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But we interspersed soft touches, gentle caresses with the urgent mauling. It got better. If that was possible. We were Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.But we also resumed our lives. We both got up and went to work every morning – me to the job dad had got for me with one of his manufacturing clients and mom at the real estate office she'd worked at for over five years. Of course we'd make love before we left for those jobs, either before our morning shower or during it.I saw my buddies. Played sports. Went to summer parties. Mom saw her friends. Continued to do her volunteer work at the library. Life went on.But we also ended every day twisted together on the soft sheets of my parents king size bed, our bodies sweating and our chests heaving as we slowly came down from our orgasms. A mother shuddering, panting, trembling, sweating, oozing out her juices as she lay in the arms of her son.I took my mother's bum our third day back in Baltimore. Two fingers stretched her vagina as my. That she would be expected to allow any and all men to caress her body and do whatever they liked with her in the bar. At some point during these excursions she would be commanded to bring a minimum of 5 men back to the penthouse and let them fuck her ass, mouth and pussy while I watched. I was going to take her to sleazy strip bars where she would be the show in the audience. While I was spilling my guts I watched as Nora slipped a hand between her legs and started stroking her pussy thru the crotch of her panties.My mouth got quite dry and I paused to take another drink of water, when I finished my gulp I offered her the glass. She leaned forward and reached for it with her free hand, while she kept the other one firmly clasped at the juncture of her thighs. When she sat back her legs were even further apart and I could see the movement of her fingers as she stroked herself thru her panties. I licked my lips and tried to begin again. Realizing I forgot where I had left off, I.
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It’s just . . . late night.’ ‘Oh.’ He knew what ‘late night’ meant. He hung up. II. I was sitting on one side of the couch. He was sitting on the other. We hadn’t said anything since he showed up thirty minutes before. He was angry and I was hoping that maybe if we didn’t say anything, the problem might go away. It wasn’t going anywhere, of course, nailed quite securely to the floor. ‘Who was it?’ he asked finally, not looking at me, trying to keep the anger and the tears out of his voice. ‘Does it matter?’ I asked. My voice was gravel, a mixture of rock and dust, of things that were worthless and pointless and just plain fucking annoying. ‘If it didn’t, you’d say.’ He leaned back, tilting his head toward the ceiling, eyes closed. He brought his hands up, fingers massaging his temples. ‘We were broken up. I can’t really hold it against you.’ ‘You already are.’ I mumbled, leaning forward and resting my forehead against my hands. ‘You always fuck someone.’ There was an unsteady breath..

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