In my fantasy, I walked naked down the hallway, passing my fourteen-year-old daughter Jenny’s room. My breasts bouncing, my hips swaying, my pussy b...rning. I reached my son’s room, opening his door slowly, carefully. I didn’t want to wake him up. Yet. I was such a wicked mommy. I crossed to the room. He slumbered in the dark, covered by his blankets, lying on his back. He slept without a shirt, and I could see a part of his muscular chest.I reached his bed, pulling down the blankets. Imagining. Eileen told me to turn over on my stomach before I could pull my pants all the way off. I was then lying on her bed, on my stomach, with my pants and underwear wrapped around my feet. SLAP! “What the fuck!” I yelled. “That’s not a sound, it’s a verb.” “No,” she shot back, “Look it up in OED. It’s a noun as well. Like in the sound of the water slapping up against the bow of a ship.” She continued slapping my bare ass with hard whacks of her open hand. WHACK, WHACK! “You can call it a verb. More

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