Her face a study in concentration, as she wiped away the blood and my tears.My mother ... again.I was older, but still of indeterminate age. Her face ...lashed into my mind. She was dressed for an outing, waiting at the front door for my father to pick her up and take her out. There was a tendril of memory, floating at the back of my mind, of a babysitter and my unhappiness at having this particular sitter stay with me.The still picture of my mother was engraved into my memory, because, instead. Whether by design or accident, Mike's little game had created a sexual tension that had reached bursting point. In seconds, we were all naked or nearly so. I went to Selma and led her to a sofa where I took my time sliding the white silk knickers down her thighs. She leaned back, widened her legs and gently pulled my head into the warm, musky nest between them. I licked, lapped and probed, felt her bottom rise from the sofa and heard the sigh as she let the orgasm overtake her. She knelt and. More

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