Well, I don't think it's my bruise that's on your mind," I said. Mom/Lorraine gasped, turned red, and looked down. "I'm not a bad girl, Marty... Hones......" "No one's saying you are," I assured her, putting my hand on her shoulder. She looked up at me and smiled. "Thank you." "Have you, ummm, ever seen, you know, actually seen one?" "Oh, no! Not me!" She sputtered, turning red again. "I'm sorry, I lied. That's not true. I, ummm, saw my brother's... And, oh, boy, this is embarrassing, I, ummm,. ‘College drinking wound. Sometimes I don’t know when to stop.’ ‘Funny, I have that same problem.’ As does my hand. Her lips find mine. Her own hand mimics mine, wrapping softly around my cock, stroking it in time to our kisses. Long, deep, without tongue. Before long her hand and the feeling of her beside me have shaken off the last effects of the cool water, and I’m ready. Ready is the wrong word. I ache for her. My mouth waters. My cock hardens and stands as rigid as my muscles are taut for. More

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