”“Yes, but . . .” I leaned toward her and whispered in her ear as conspiratorially as she had earlier, “what if you might want to suck on it ... little? You wouldn’t want any artificial ingredients, on your hot-dog would you?”Mom leaned back, and laughed loudly. “Don’t tempt me, you mischievous young man! Still, that would be a fun way to wet your flute, with my saliva.”“Not the same, spit’s too watery. Here’s a way to tell. I withdrew my fingers from her nether cavity, and buttered one. They kicked off their boots and padded through the hallway to the kitchen to see Stan sitting on a chair with his young daughter Sandy on his lap and over by the counter Becky pouring lemonade from a pitcher into glasses. A charming family domestic scene other than Becky was completely naked with two phones which were humming a hypnotic tone on the counter alongside her.“Here’s your drink Sir,” she said in a voice that sounded slightly robotic. Don moved towards her and as he did so began to. More

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