ComLike Father, Like SonI was nine when my mother died. I was hardly old enough to understandwhat "breast cancer" was. I remember her growing weaker...and weaker. Iremember her losing her hair. She still looked beautiful to me evenwithout hair. At first, she wore a wig, then as she grew worse, a longfloral scarf. In the weeks before she passed, I am not sure who lookedworse, my dad or my mom. When she passed, we both grieved. But I knowthere was a part of both of us that was relieved. . Cara seemed to recognize that I'd surrendered to the situation as she glanced up at me to see the look of enjoyment on my face. She reached for my hand and placed it on top of her head, putting her hand back on top of mine and pushing down, showing me that she wanted me controlling her mouth on my cock. This was a new experience for me and I experimented for a while, holding her so that just the glans of my cock was in her mouth and then going deep into her mouth to see what she could tolerate.. More

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