It’s a slow, subtle movement. We could spend hours this way. That doesn’t matter because none of this serious anyhow. The phone rings. After the f...fth or sixth ring, you smile ruefully, kiss me, and move to pick it up. It’s a girlfriend and, from the tone of your voice, I know this will not be a short conversation. You sprawl out on the bed, the handset clamped to your ear. I have a vision of you at sixteen, kicking your heels and soaking up the school gossip. Giggling and picking at the. "Hmmm, nice. Your mother was not exaggerating."I let out an incontrollable moan. Trying to replicate her aggressiveness, I reached her pantyhose covered crotch. She explained, "Sorry, if I would have known I would be entertaining guests, I would have worn stockings...for easier access."I let out another moan. I looked at Mom, who was smiling perversely.There was a moment of silence, as we each had our hands on the other's private parts through our clothing.The silence was broken when Miranda. More

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