Now if all this sounds sickeningly goody-goody and boring beyond endurance, let me tell you that there was another side to it. My mother loved to have...fun. She had a delightful sense of humor and we played all kinds of tricks on each other. We laughed as much as we talked sometimes. And we wrestled around and romped like a pair of carefree kids, even as I grew older. I cannot emphasize enough that being with Mom was just a sheer delight, and I had no desire to be out of her company any more. He was trusting her to keep her eyes closed.He was trusting her to accept his admiration.He was trusting her to feel his desire for her.She laid on the bed, naked, excited, wet, wanting, needing, desiring, and trusting.The touch began on the side of her face.A gentle stroke down her jawline. Was he using his finger? A feather? His breath?She could not determine the sensation, other than it was a light caress that felt like a suffocating weight of desire on her soul. She trembled as her body. More

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