His excitement rising he turned to face his own Mother, hung as Bessy, her arms held secure above her head, her smooth silk covered body his to strike... her expectant face fixed on his, knowing full-well she could expect no quarter from this eager young man, her son her own flesh and blood, who was now so sexually charged, so hyped up and so near and yet so far away in his fantasy world that he was as an automaton. She became aware he was speaking, asking her where first he was to strike her. We would have sex five or six times a week, sometimes three times a day. Everything from long languid afternoons of massage and foreplay to quickies in public places. Once at a baseball game she sat on my lap in a tactically parted wrap around skirt. On another, we fuck like mink, buck naked, on the altar of a Catholic church under renovation.( Another story in and of itself.) We were standing in line on the sharply rising steps of our favorite disreputable Chinese restaurant when I heard an. More

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