Then my mother walked in. She was wearing a white loose button-down blouse open wide almost half way down her stomach (no bra) and a black skirt with ...an stockings. She came into the room, leaned over the dresser and moved the blouse aside to reveal her left breast. She fondled it, teasing my dad (and, unknowingly, Brian too), bringing it to her lips to lick the nipple. Her right hand stroked her body stopping to rub her pussy through the skirt and to pinch her right nipple through the material. But we'll work on your battered self confidence another time." She sighed. "Now, I think we should have this conversation another time, too." No, Pookie, it's all right. As long as I'm not getting a 'Dear Warren' speech, it's OK." You'll never get that one again, I promise. Anyhow, we did it, as you know. And I liked it. And if I told you I never wanted to do it again, I'd be lying." OK. I can handle that. But, can I ask, what did you like? Is there anything I should be doing, that you like. More

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