Sometimes, I hated having a vivid imagination.“Susan,” Mom said brightly, “how are you? Would you care to join us?”I’m sure I turned a sickl... shade of blue. Mom gave me a quizzical look when she saw the expression on my face; a mixture of fear and anticipation.“Thanks, Beth,” Aunt Susan said as she slid into the seat to my left. “I wanted to talk to you...” She let it hang in the air for a moment. Then she brought the hammer down, “About Paul.”I was contemplating hara-kiri with a dinner. Because I am the kind of erotic author that writes what I call "feel-good" stories around the main themes of mother-son incest, cheating wives, prostituting wives, swinging wives, brother-sister incest, nymphomaniac wives and mothers, and the like (all of which I have had personal experience with) that have story-lines and story-endings that make the women that read them validate the kind of lives they lead and make them feel good about themselves as wives and mothers, I have had many. More

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