Chapter 2

“Fuck, yeah ... Max ... that IS your name, isn’t it? Max ... fucking ... Edam ... oh, fuck ... yes! That ... fucking ... tongue!” Katrina screamed as she felt me rimming her with abandon.

Well, what could I say ... seeing an ass as delectable as hers in front of me, there was no way that I would pass up the chance to lick it. It was deliciously smooth, sleek ... slick with her sweat. It was clear that she removed her butt hair, too, which was a nice touch in my book. I devoured that booty for as long as I could drag it out, not wanting to stop just yet. Katrina now cussed, moaned, screamed, whimpered, and grunted as she felt every lick across her crack and buns.

When my new guardian or whatever finally collapsed in a quivering hot mess, goosebumps all along her skin, I pulled her up for a kiss. What I got instead was the mother of all makeouts. She so hungrily sucked face with me that I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began for a moment there. She grabbed my tush and held each cheek in her hands as well, squeezing my bottom for the sheer thrill of it.

“Oh ... my God ... oh, my God! You’re such a natural ... such raw talent in bed ... with practice, you can be so much better ... and plenty of practice you shall have! Max, honey, I gotta keep you around! I’ll never hold you against your will, of course, though right now, you have no place to go. Still, what do you say ... to ... me ... um ... adopting you? Legally, I mean. I would so fucking love to be your new mommy, you know!” Katrina put that idea out there, much to my shock.

“You’d need to contact Mom ... but then, you need to do that, anyway. A few loose-ends to tie up, such as my possessions back home ... my old home ... and medical records, so you know what, if any hereditary diseases I might contract. And you’d need to get established with the school as my legal guardian, if nothing else, so you could sign my report cards and things like that,” I told her.

“Yes, and I have to finish up keeping my end of the pact ... putting money in her account, same with your sisters, of course. They’ll be a lot better off ... for a while. For drug pushers, they blow through funds very fast ... probably using too much of their own product. Ecstasy ... that was their mistake. They should sell stuff that they’d never want to use. Like crack or something. Meth. Or steroids. Not a party, rave kind girl of drug.

“But, yeah, I want to be able to get us out of legal limbo, you know. I want to be able to meet teachers as your mother and have them get used to thinking of me as such. They might wonder why you look so... , “ Katrina struggled for words for once, but I knew why.

“Jewish? It’s okay, I know what I am and how I look. And I AM half-Jewish. Dad is a Mizrahi Jew. Not ashamed of that fact. They’re a bit more obvious than their Ashkenazic brethren, of course. Aside from your hair color, you look very Dutch, of course. Then again, there are some Dutch brunettes, aren’t there, even in the Old Country?” I chuckled.

“Famke Janssen, for instance?” Katrina recalled one of the best Bond girls ever, who played the Georgian femme fatale Xenia Onatopp from Goldeneye.

“Yeah, you kinda resemble her in some ways,” I told her, making her blush.

“That’s high praise and I’ll definitely take it! So ... how about it, then? Want to be a Mama’s Boy? Trust me, I’ll have more to offer you than just apron strings. For one thing, half of the time I cook in the nude, anyway. And when I do wear aprons, there’s typically nothing else on me. I like the Jane March look in the kitchen, you know ... from Color of Night with her and Bruce Willis,” my hostess now urged me, clearly eager to get a legal claim to me or something.

“Hey, why not? Mom doesn’t have much use for me. Chrissy and Carrie are all she cares about, anyway. Such goy names, both of them! Dad got his way with my name, but not with the girls. That’s because I’m a junior. Maximilian Edam, Junior. My father came over from Iraq, of course. In 1970, no less. Just two years after the Baathists took over.