She continued downward until she was kneeling on the boards. I released her nipples and stood, towering over her nude, trembling figure."Why are you h...re, girl?" I asked."I wrote to you..." she began."I know what you wrote!" I told her, bending to slap the side of one breast. Even with her skin color the imprint of my hand was clear on the flesh. "Now tell me why the rebellious child of a repressive father would come to someone who promises to be even more repressive for instruction about sex.". He put them away in a cabinet.“Gladys sure liked to bake.”“In her day, that was the only way to have cookies, cake, or a pie. In our day, almost no one baked anymore. You could go to the store and purchase pies, cakes and cookies that were ‘homemade’ and cut into different sizes. When I was divorced, I used to buy little individual servings of chocolate cake and half pies. I quit buying those mass produced ‘brand name’ cookies and started buying the store made cookies.”“I think my wife did the. More

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