Once out of my room, she loosened up considerably. We would sit and I would read her a passage. Then she would take me through it line by line and get...me to see what the poet was trying to say. I'm not entirely stupid, and I eventually began to understand. Still, why couldn't they just say what they mean?I began to see why when she read me some passages. The words flowed off her tongue and danced among the leaves blowing in the icy wind around us. I could feel the rhythms of the horse' hoofs,. When she did look, she acted as if it was no big deal and I should hurry up and get over my juvenile fetish.But I was immune to any cure. The following Saturday at breakfast, after a week of clandestine exposures, I waited until Dad left the kitchen. As soon as I heard him going up the stairs, I pushed my pajamas down to free my hard cock and smiled at Mom, hardly able to wait for her to see. She finally looked, though I was sure she knew the second I had let loose.“For crying out loud, Brent.. More

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