She was a strawberry blonde with beautiful, empty green eyes, copiously freckled, with that pale skin that only burns, doesn’t tan. She wore a dowdy... pink embroidered sweater, a knee-length beige skirt and opaque pantyhose, an ensemble fit for the hippest octogenarian. A valiant effort but not quite enough to suppress her ample curvature. She told me of her sinful past. She said her earliest memory of “it” was seeing a certain actress in a very steamy film role. It sent her into a trembling. She started crying now and came over to me telling me over and over how sorry she was that this happened. I cried some also, not knowing what had happened. Mom slid her shorts back on, then her bra. I pulled my pajamas up, but I was still poking them big time.Mom told me to sit down next to her as we needed to talk about what happened. I sat next to her. She told me that this must never be told to anyone, even my father. She was not going to tell anyone either. I asked her about why I. More

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