My jeans would be too tight. Plus it was too hot to wear them. I looked in my closet. As I was going though my clothes I found a summer dress I brough.... It was the short type with sleeveless arms. It buttoned up in the front. I unbuttoned it and put it on. When I finished buttoning it up, I noticed it showed my bra to much. I took it off again. I removed my bra and put the dress back on. I looked in the mirror. I really didn't need a bra. Even at thirty seven my tits were still perky. The dress. He seemed to understand.“I guess you’re my little mother-fucker now aren’t you,” I said.He frowned. “No, I’m not!”“Yeah, you are! I’m your mother, and you fucked me in the mouth didn’t you? So that makes you a mother-fucker!” I said teasing him.“Don’t call me that! I’m not a mother-fucker!” He snapped. He was getting annoyed. Which only reinvigorated me.“Mother-fucker! Mother-fucker! Mother-fucker!” I began singing just to antagonize my son.“Stop it! Don’t call me that! I can’t believe I was. More

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