’ I said as I tied the boat to a limb that protruded upwards from a log along the shoreline. Log jams are as common place as stumps and grass along ...he river. Shouldering my BPS and survival bag we began a stealth ascent into the dense woods. Hopes were to slowly come out the otherside of this tiny, thin stripped Island and stumble upon a flock of Ducks taking advantage of the southern hospitality of the river. The fine art of walking quiet with a big dog and rubber waders with gear across dry. Instead of peeping at my classmates' panties, I turned my attention to my mother's panties. Whenever she walked up the staircase in our house, I would be underneath it. Discretely peeping up her knee length skirts. Besides that, I suddenly developed a habit of dropping my spoon at the dining table. Sometimes if I was lucky, I would even manage to catch glimpses of pubic hair curling out from the sides of her panties. From all these, I managed to find out that my mother wore only cotton briefs. More

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