“Ed, please leave,” I said. “Why? Mom,” he whispered. I felt his other hand on my thighs and he was slowly lifting my skirt. “Ed, No!” I ...aid in anticipation. “Why do you always avoid me Mom?” he asked. “Because you are my son,” I told him. “And what about when you came to my room that night? I was your son at that time too,” he said and I went in flashback. He was sixteen and half when I lost my mind, and one night I went to his room. He asked me what I was doing when I slid my hands in his. It felt so strange to touch myself there and not feel the light coat of downy softness my husband loved to stroke. But he wasn't there so it was up to me. My middle finger on my right hand started to flick across the clit I knew so well. A shudder went through me as my hand worked, slowly at first, than faster, until my finger slipped lower, leaving the ball of my hand to rub the clitoris. My finger had slipped inside me, pushing higher, trying to reach that place that hubby always touched. As. More

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