Morvessa was still squatting. But it wasn't her body that felt the heaviest— it was her mind.
In front of her, Lilith—the woman who once called her name like calling her own daughter— was sucking the flesh shaft of the man Lilith herself called her son.
And it didn't look disgusting.
Why?
Why didn't she feel the revulsion her ancestors taught her when she saw Lilith's lips circling that shaft?
Why did her body slightly tremble when she heard those wet sucking sounds?
'Sucking a meat shaft is supposed to be disgusting, unnecessary… isn't it enough just to insert it into the vaginal hole?'
That's what she had heard from her mother, and grandmother, and the high-winged elders.
But now?
Her eyes couldn't look away.
Lilith's lips were so soft, moving up and down with sacred grace, and Morvessa could see her tongue—dancing around the head of that flesh like a brush painting abstract art on a blank canvas.
She should've felt disgusted.
She should've looked down.
