I know that there's an animalistic amount of tingling that goes on in anticipation of a guy and a girl and a boat anchored out on a dark bay."Mom, can...I talk to you about a delicate subject?" I had to ask Mom. Mom, whom I trusted. I asked a few girls at school, but you never know who's got an agenda, even Key. I knew that Key was no prude. She and Hutch, well, frequently, she said, and enthusiastically, too, but I wanted to ask the most trusted of sources: Mom."Yes, dear one, you may." I get. However, there was a conspicuously too much makeup, too much lace and smooth stocking. Here was reality: it seeped in through the shape of her face, the elongation of her thighs, everything that lacked realness or was conveniently hidden. I figured she must have been very beautiful once.I thought about what it would be like to be with this mature older woman. I imagined holding her hands, kissing her breasts. I thought about the feel of her skin and the suppleness of her lips. I projected what. More

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