“That’s wimpy,” I voted.We’d been here before ... intellectually. Was it to be the dance? Or were we going to push the envelope? What would sh... do now? It wasn’t an exercise of the intellect. She knew that.Standing suddenly, she slid her hands up along her thighs, hooking her thumbs into the elastic of the white, brief panties she was wearing. I could only see the sides of her thighs and hips and the white of the panties’ waistband where she’d hooked them. The crotch remained hidden.Between. " Well, then that was good, right? Wasn't that what you wanted?" Yes, and no. I had wanted him to be more interested, of course ... for years. But it took me totally by surprise coming about the way it did. And the other thing was..." What, Mom?" Your father really, really liked what I was writing about. For some reason, he loved the idea of a mother getting turned on by her teenage son. He couldn't stop talking about it, wanting to play out the fantasy. At first I loved it. I'm ashamed to. More

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