What if...He sat down and picked up his pencil.Thirty minutes later he laid the pencil down, undressed, put on his robe, and went to find his mother. ...he was in the living room, wearing her robe. This time it didn't bother Robby to see her in it."I'm done." he said. "We can paint now."She got up and stretched. The robe was tied tightly, but her breasts thrust out, pushing the silk toward him. "What did you write your poem about?" she asked, as she began walking toward the studio."The woman." he. His mind woke instantly, and he was alert in a moment. ‘What the hell?’ Thought the bull, and he waited, breathing level, still listening intently. ‘There’s no way… It can’t be her!’ But after several agonizing minutes, the disbelieving bovine felt that hand brush again, and the touch of fingers, stealing like wind across his member. As they touched him, the bull barely restrained a deep blush, feeling the heat pushing toward his cheeks, and his member stirred rapidly, beginning to harden. He. More

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