‘Fran, I’m so sorry,’ I said guiltily. ‘You must have been so miserable and confused.’ She looked surprised. ‘Confused, yes, you’re righ... about that, but not miserable,’ she replied. ‘At least, not at first. To begin with I thought it was just a mix-up.’ And so Fran told me her tale. As I briefed her on the report that day in the office she had been surprised to find that her natural sympathy for my bereavement grew into an unaccountable and almost irresistible urge to throw her arms around me. ..I'd even jacked to thoughts of my Mom from time-to-time. But there was a certain amount of appropriate guilt that came with each of these fantasies. I hadn't emerged completely uns**thed from my Mom's (now obviously bullshit) puritanical attitudes towards sex. They were fucking. I could hear the bedstead thumping against the wall. Aunt Jenny is fucking Mommy Judy. Mommy, not Mother or Mom or Judith. Mommy. I stood up and walked out of my room, padding down the hall, cock bobbing, to my. More

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