“I’m going to . XXNX Good!’ I said with the same tone as when he had played a difficult selection on the piano. But that is what was going on for nearly a month. You have a lot of goo, for your mother. My son was taking liberties, but I was letting him with laizze-faire, as I lay lazily there. Anyway, that’s how I became a mother-tucker. I was glad to see it wasn’t a bubble bath. It wasn’t the last time we tucked, tupped, and two-timed dad. Then she whispered, “Lower.” I move my hands to her slightly poochy tum, not daring to go where I wished with all my hard-on she meant. I had now become rigid in the groin, the effect of my awareness of mother as a sexual being, surfacing to my consciousness.
