Together, we made 6 babies before my husband’s untimely demise. As of now, I am a mother of 16 children (all mine, none adopted). But with yoga and ...ym, I have managed to keep myself in shape.I was doing the laundry one fine morning when I noticed semen spots on my eldest son’s underwear. The smell of his juice was intoxicating. It brought back the memories of the fucking sessions I used to have with my husband. My beloved was such a bull in bed. He had the stamina to go on for. ." My lips kept moving but no sound was coming out.I'm a we'll-spoken, articulate person, but I don't handle confrontation well. My thoughts sort of freeze up on me sometimes, like some of those chat boxes on the internet.He gestured slightly with the cigar at the yellow legal pad in my lap, "Write these down. Juices, we already said that one. And add 'dancing.'" Dancing," I mumbled as I wrote."No more 'dancing eyes,' or 'our tongues danced together this and that' shit."Sounds like a fucking. More

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