The door creaked open, and my mother stood there. In the dim light coming from the hallway I could see that she was wearing a short nightie, and I had...no idea what she wanted. "Mark, are you asleep?" she whispered. "No, Mom," I said. "I'm just laying here, listening to the thunder in the distance." She sat on the edge of the bed. "I've always liked summer thunderstorms at night," she said. "It reminds me of all those old spooky movies your father and I used to watch together." My father had. As he sat sat on his couch, I walked over to him, nervous and shaking, and spilled my water all over his lap. Just like I had imagined, he stood up in shock and also just like I imagined in instinctively fell to my knees before him. My hands trembled as I began to towel him off as I apologized. My heart was pounding as I moved my hand to his crotch. He tried to stop me, saying it’s not necessary and to stop, but I couldn’t. I had to touch his cock or at least try. As if in slow motion, my hand. More

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