May, my mother hadbecome a frequent fantasy while i masturbated which i did quiteoften. Noticing the soiled (dried cum!) hand towels coming from myroo... during laundry my mother commented to me, "looks like you maybe needing more hand towels young man," as she looked at me and smiled. My mothers statement had me wondering if she knew i waswhacking off, not that it mattered. Well, I got the answer to thatone day when i overheard a telephone conversation between my momand my aunt June. "Yes. The doctors tell her I am dying, it’s only a matter of time, a few hours, a day, soon. My skin is hardened, a crust; in some places only blackened cinder remains, but I feel no pain.A week passes, yet I still live! It is a dark, cool night. I feel cramped and yearn to stretch. I move. First one arm, then the other. All the movements are accompanied by soft popping sounds. Last I open my eyes; I see!I lay in a white hospital bed, the moonlight pours through French windows placed just beyond the. More

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