But was it a mistake? That I wasn't so sure of. Since then Mom had been her normal self. She looked at me the same, talked with me the same, joked wit... me the same. She was normal as far as I could tell. I shrugged. "Vinnie...?" The sound of my name dispelled my trance-like state. I blinked, focusing on my mother who was standing before me, hips cocked, a white towel hanging from her left shoulder. Christ, the woman exuded sex. I swallowed, resisting the urge to push her. My left testicle hung lower than the right, as always, adding to the intimidating, unrefined look of my manhood.I had been keeping my wiry, salt-and-pepper pubic hair trimmed back ever since I had initiated Christina's "punishments," in order to make my cock seem larger still. Every added sense of size contributed to Christina's alarm upon its almost ritualistic presentation, and every bit of size contrast whenever I laid it against her underaged, nearly hairless pudendum lifted me to new. More

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