“Please, Justin. I’ll do whatever you want,” she whispered through sobs and tears apparently trying to sound sexy. “Please, let me make it up ...o you,” she continued, as she pressed her mouth to my neck and slid one hand down to my crotch. The tears against my skin gave an interesting sensation, and no matter how mad I was, the heat of her mouth on my neck and her hand massaging my dick through my shorts got me rock-hard almost right away. She felt me growing harder in her hand, and sensed and. Even if the things are bad, they aren't always the fault of the person they're said to, or said by. My son and I shared some things tonight, that I wasn't ready to share before. It hurt both of us to say them and hear them, but it's a good hurt, that helps us grow, not the kind that forces apart, but the kind that brings together. I love you all, but I'll never share them with anyone but my son, and I doubt he'll share them even with his wife."I'd always thought of my mother as strong, even. More

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