Between A Mother And A Son free porn video

John Donato got out of the cab and looked at the simple house that he had called home for all of his 18 years until going off to college last fall. The house looked smaller, in fact the whole neighborhood looked smaller than it had a few months ago.

That was a product of spending time in Denver and then coming home to little old Troy, New York, a old industrial town no match for a major city in any way except in his heart. John had gone to school out there, because of a scholarship he won, but he was home here.

In the house was Mom, the love of John's life. Her husband, John's father, had died too young, leaving Mary Donato all alone. John didn't want to go to school so far away from his mother, but as she told him, the opportunity was too good to pass up.

So he left Mom behind, all alone in the house built for 3. Mary Donato worked at a dry cleaners nearby and then went home, ate, slept and went back to work. That's the way working class people did things. She would be home now though, John knew, but she would be surprised to see him because he wasn't expected until next week.

When he slipped in the house, Mom was at the stove making soup and humming some tune that John didn't know, probably one by Jerry Vale or Mario Lanza or some other guy John wasn't familiar with, and his heart skipped a beat when she saw her wearing one of her old house-dresses, one of the sleeveless ones that showcased her beautifully shaped arms, which were slightly plump but still nicely toned with the bronze tone of her skin reflecting her Italian heritage.

John coughed, making his mother jump, but when she saw him she screamed out and ran to him, crying and carrying on like she always did when she got excited. After about 5 minutes she finally calmed down enough to sit at the table a talk to her son, grilling him about school and college, and even though the talked every week on the phone, she needed to hear it all again.

As John looked as his mother carrying on, all he could think was how much he loved her. Loved her like a son loves his mother and also in another way. A way that, if she knew, would probably make her faint or worse.

What would she think if he knew that if her son had a choice to go to bed with any woman in the world, he would choose her? He had gone to bed with 3 girls in his life so far, and they were nice enough in their own ways but they all had the same flaw. They weren't Mom.

***

"So Johnny," my Mom said after giving me the third degree about school and making sure that I was indeed hitting the books as hard as I had promised. "You still have that girlfriend out there? The one you told me about?"

"Uh - no," I said. "Didn't work out."

"You know that Teresa Benvenuti - she's still around," Mom said.

"Over and done," I said about a past flame who had been my second lover. "Her father is still alive, isn't he? He's a widower. Why don't you get together with him?"

"Ah, my time has come and gone," Mom said. "I'm happy as I am."

I doubted that, I thought as I looked over the table at my mother, who was pushing 50 but still looked nice to me. A little bit chubby, I supposed, but not certainly not fat, and a hell of a figure.

"I remember that dress," I said, referring to the green and red striped house dress that I recalled her wearing several years ago but had disappeared. "I thought you must have thrown it out."

"Probably should, but I didn't think anybody would be seeing me here today," Mom said. "Little snug. Maybe I'll dump it after today."

"No, don't," I said. "I love it. You look sexy in it."

"Oh, you k**der," Mom scoffed.

"I'm serious," I said. "I always told you that you look nice in dresses without sleeves. You've got sexy arms and you used to wear things like that all the time, but then you stopped."

"That's when your father was still around," Mom said. "I wore them for him. After he passed - eh - between that and your friends..."

"My friends? What about my friends?"

"Let's not get into that," Mom said. "When does soccer start?"

"Forget soccer. What were you talking about?"

"I know how they used to tease you about me," Mom said, and when I started to protest she cut me off. "The names they used to call me, and then the one time I heard you got in a fight over it."

"What - you mean?" I said, finally realizing what Mom was talking about. "Oh, that asshole?"

"Johnny! The mouth."

"Sorry but he was," I responded. "Gene Savoca was an idiot. Why would you care what somebody like that thought?"

"Him? No, I didn't care about what some snot-nosed k** thought, but I didn't want you to get harassed over it," Mom said. "Besides, I did it for your father because he liked me that way."

What Mom was talking about was was the fact that unlike most of the women in the neighborhood, my mother didn't shave her armpits. Even though this was an Italian part of the city, most of the women had adopted the ways of this country by 1966, and one of the rituals involved women removing the hair from their legs and under their arms.

My Mom didn't, even though she was born in this country, arriving when she was 3, but I didn't know that my father was the reason. That might account for the fact that it turned me on as well. Used to, and still did. I wasn't the only one because my friend Tony Lanni admitted to me once that he thought Gene Savoca was an idiot and besides, he used to masturbate thinking about my Mom and her armpits. Join the club, I could have told him.

Anyway, this moron Gene Savoca, who didn't like me any more than I liked him, used to bug me about Mom's armpit hair. A couple other guys made cracks once or twice but then let it go. Not Gene. He kept going, calling her Hairy Mary and telling me that my mother looked like she had Cassius Clay in a headlock, so one day I popped him one in the mouth even though he was bigger than me.

I didn't know Mom had heard about that, but at least after that he shut up about my mother. That was one thing we all usually kept away from was mother bashing, and besides even though she was my Mom she was the best looking mother in the neighborhood.

"Now that your friends don't come around I suppose I don't have to hide myself any more," she said with a laugh, and that pissed me off to think that Mom stopped wearing those dresses because of that.

"You never had to hide," I said. "You're gorgeous just as you are."

That wasn't what I wanted to say. I wanted to say that I had a raging hard-on ever since I got home, and I admit that a good part of that came from me truly loving her, in addition to the fact that she had a beautiful complexion with full red lips, and that she had an incredible pair of breasts that seemed as large and full as Sophia Loren's.

Much of my arousal came from seeing that she hadn't followed the herd though, and the few glimpses I got when she raised her arms revealed that those round hollows were still untouched by a razor and were every bit as hairy as I remembered them being.

As I was thinking those thoughts, as if on cue Mom chose that moment to scratch the back of her head, affording me a couple seconds of heaven as I got to stare at the wild jet black jungle of hair under her arm.

Mom caught me staring at her armpit, but unlike times in the past when she would lower her arm right away if she caught be leering, this time she didn't, and if I didn't know better I would have sworn she did that to tease me.

Mom went back to her soup when she realized the had forgotten about it, and as the scent of Minestrone filled my nostrils I looked at my Mom from the rear. What a body she had, and while she would never wear a bikini even if she could swim, she could probably get away with it.

As I stared at her legs, which were very curvy and only a little plump, I wished she wasn't wearing those little white socks like she always did. I remembered that the times I had seen her legs bare I recalled that she had a little hair growing on the insides of her calves. Not very much, certainly nothing like her underarms, which were profusely hairy by any standard, so that made me wonder whether she had a lot of hair between her legs.

In my mind I pictured her with a really large and thick bush, which was alright by me because although none of the three girls I had seen in person turned out to be as furry as I had hoped, the really hairy ones that I had seen pictures off turned me on, and that reminded me that I still had a magazine in my dresser that had inspired me many times, and I suspected I would be using it later tonight, if I lasted that long that is.

44-28-46. That was my mental appraisal of my Mom as I undressed her while she stirred soup. The hips and waist were only guesses, but I knew the top measurement was accurate from many years of looking at her bras, and the cup size was D, which gave you an idea of what a sick pup I was to know this stuff.

"Gonna put my stuff away," I announced while Mom still had her back to me, and that made it easier to slither out of the room without her seeing the bulge in my pants.

***

After dinner I helped Mom clean up the kitchen before announcing I was tired and retreating to my bedroom. After locking the door behind me I dug out my old favorite magazine and climbed onto my bed to acquaint myself with some of my old fantasy girlfriends.

As I looked through the dog eared magazine it struck me about what Mom had said about my late father. This was his magazine that I had grabbed when we went through the attic after he passed away, keeping it for my own enjoyment.

It was titled European Delights, and while it might have been considered pornographic by the standards of 1966, it was relatively tame. All of the women were fully naked, but there was no sex of any kind. No men at all, just women. Naked women and most posing very innocently.

Most of them hand their arms raised, either straight up or with their hands behind the neck, and the majority of the women were unshaven. No wonder Dad had this magazine, and to think that he wanted Mom to look natural like these women was erotic to me.

Some of these women were probably as pretty as Mom, but very few of them had as much armpit hair as Mom. Even I didn't, I mused, remembering how Mom had accidentally posed for me earlier, giving me a memory that I would never forget, and wished that somehow I could have let my fingers stroke those thick dense bushes to see if the hair was as soft as it appeared to be.

I went to my favorite picture, one where the woman had similar features as my mother, with large breasts that were about the same size as I pictured my Mom to have, although this lady had only little sprays of hair under her arms. It was inevitable what was to happen next.

Digging a sock out of the loose mismatched collection in the back of the drawer, I dropped my pajamas and slid the sock over my cock before getting back onto the bed. I didn't invent this, but after my friend Tony explained it to me, it made sense. No mess to clean up after you came, and then you sneak them in the wash with the rest of the clothes.

As I slowly humped the mattress, pretending that it was me on top of Mom while I ground myself into the bedding, I wondered whether I was like Dad in another way. I know Mom always said I looked a lot like him when he was my age, but I wonder whether I had inherited some of his other features.

Thinking about my Dad's cock was creepy in a way, but I was thinking more about those nights long ago when I would hear noises in the bedroom. Was he built like me? If so, I was grateful because I guess I have a big one.

I don't think I ever saw a guy with a hard-on besides myself, so I didn't know, but the girls that had seen it seemed impressed, and in glancing around the locker rooms I did seem to be a little bigger than most of the other guys soft.

I'm about 8" erect, and that wasn't me measuring it but my old girl Teresa, who was curious enough to fetch a ruler one time. She said that I was the biggest one she ever had, and apparently she had seen a few of them, so thanks Dad was all I could think.

I was about to cum, but as I did my eyes closed, blocking the vision of the lady in the magazine so I could concentrate on the vision of Mom - innocent Mom in the kitchen showing me her natural beauty, and while I didn't fill the sock after I stopped cumming, it sure felt like it.

***

After I pulled off the sock I went to bed but sleep wouldn't come. After laying there a while I decided to go take a leak and maybe get a drink of water. As I went down the hall I noticed that the kitchen was dark, as was the rest of the house, but the light was on in my Mom's room.

I went down the hall, stopping just short of the doorway, and when I peeked in Mom was sitting at her little table with the makeup mirror on it. Mom was humming a song while brushing her hair, and I remembered her saying that she brushed her air 100 times or something, and when I saw her I prayed she had just started.

Mom was wearing a old white nightgown, and while it wasn't anything stylish or sexy by itself, what it revealed was amazing. I didn't dare breathe but just stood there and watched the most erotic thing I had ever seen.

The nightie was sleeveless, and the armholes were large and hung down, which exposed a whole lot of the side of Mom's left breast. Without a bra Mom's breasts looked like torpedoes, and I could make out the darkness of her nipples through the fabric.

Mom switched hands with the brush then, to her left hand, and now with her arm raised high as she ran the brush through her wavy black hair, my cock forgot that it just had cum not long ago and turned to blue steel in my pajamas.

What I would give for a camera, I though as a marveled at this intimate view of Mom. With the armhole of the nightie so low, I could see the entire thicket that sprouted from under her arm after she raised it, the bottom past of which at been shielded by the dress earlier.

"Oh Johnny!" Mom said as she became aware of my presence, grabbing a bathrobe she was sitting on and wrapping it over her chest. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Sorry," I said as I leaned back in hopes that Mom hadn't seen the bulge in my pajamas. "I heard you singing."

"Hard to remember that I'm not alone now," Mom said. "Lucky I wasn't sitting her naked like I do sometimes."

Bad luck, I thought, because seeing my Mom naked would have probably made my cock tear through the fabric of my pajama bottoms.

"I'll try to keep my singing down," Mom said.

"No, don't," I said. "It makes me feel like I'm home again. You sing pretty."

"I don't know about that," Mom said, and after she made sure the robe was covering her side and her chest she went back to brushing.

"You still brush 100 times?" I asked.

"Oh, you remember that?" Mom said and then laughed. "Lost count, now I have to start again."

I was in heaven, and it was like Mom was flaunting her armpits at me, as crazy as it seemed, and so I stayed there staring.

"Getting a little gray," Mom said.

"I didn't notice."

"If you look close you can see it," Mom said. "Right at the top here at the part. Come see."

I walked over at stood behind Mom, looking down at a few strands of grey that had appeared with the passing of time, but my eyes were focused elsewhere, at Mom's big breasts jutting out against the nightie and at those incredible tufts of thick black hair that seemed to explode from her armpits as she raised her arms again, only this time she didn't have the brush in her hands.

"I miss you so much Johnny," Mom said, looking up at me as she put her hands on my hips, and now I knew she was posing for me. "I love the way you look at me now. Not like a boy looks at his mother but as a man looks at a woman. I miss that. Do you understand?"

All I understood was that I had trying to stay behind the back of the chair so Mom didn't see my erection, but what she was saying - was she actually saying this?

I put my hands on her upraised elbows, looking at the make-up mirror in front of us, and now Mom was looking that way too. We were watching each other, and then Mom was nodding yes as my hands went down those smooth and shapely biceps.

Mom sighed as my fingernails went from the smoothness into the hair that started on the inside of her arm, and then they were raking through the lush forest that I longed to touch, and it was every bit as soft and luxurious as I had fantasized it would be.

"Just like your father," Mom said, and she almost sang the words as my fingers reached the end of the hair, her body writhing as I brought my hands back through. "You feel just like he did."

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," I gasped, kissing the top of Mom's head.

"Yes I do," Mom said. "Part of me kept saying don't encourage him - it's not right, but..."

I was already kneeling beside Mom as she spoke, and she stopped talking when I buried my face into Mom's armpit jungle, licking, chewing while my hand grabbed her breasts through the nightie, and although I might have looked crazy, neither of us were laughing.

Mom's nipple felt as big and as hard as a bullet through the nylon, and the aroma of Mom's armpit was making my head spin. A faint trace of floral soap blended with the natural musk of a woman - no hint of deodorant for a reason I would find out later - was a most powerful aphrodisiac.

But now Mom was pulling my face out from under her arm and telling me to stand up, and when I did she clawed at my pajama bottoms, yanking them down and grabbing my cock which sprang up at her. When she saw my cock she started crying as she put her lips on the dripping tip before sliding her mouth down.

I was cumming before her mouth got halfway down, and she didn't pull away when I cried out a warning. Instead, she drank it down while stroking the part of my cock her lips couldn't reach with one hand while milking my balls with the other.

Mom was never more beautiful than that moment, tears rolling down those big brown eyes while she kept sucking on me even after I was limp and spent, and then she looked up at me with trickles of my cum oozing out of the corners of her mouth.

I reached down under Mom's arms, not accidentally, and helped her to her feet, and mouth only reluctantly let go of my cock as I helped her rise.

"Was that good for you Johnny?" she asked, and after I told her they was the greatest few moments of my life, I asked her why she was crying.

"In part because I have sinned, but also because you remind me so much of your father," Mom explained. "Does that bother you - if I say that?"

"The way you touched me," Mom continued after I assured her I considered it a compliment. "It was just like he used to, and then when I saw your manhood - he was large just like you - and his curved a little to the right as well. Except for you being snipped - we were told that was what was done in this country - you're just so much like him you could be his double."

"I want you Mom," I mumbled as I looked down at her, and although Mom averted her eyes she didn't say no when I added, "I want you like Dad had you."

Instead she nodded, and after sitting down and turning off the lights of the make-up mirror, simply raised her arms, affording me another unfettered look at her lush armpits, but it was a signal for me to lift her nightie up and over her head, like a c***d would, although there was nothing remotely c***d-like about her body.

As she rose, my cock was already starting to come back to life and I enjoyed my first look at Mom naked. While there may have been some little signs that this woman was nearing a half-century old, the fact was that no woman had a right to look so good at her age.

Her breasts were more like torpeodos, the huge tits showing little sag despite their immense size, and her auroelas were large, crimson and slightly oval in shape. Her nipples, thick fat pegs that I had suckled on as a babe, seemed to be twitching and begging for me to relive those days of nearly two decades ago.

I heard Mom moan as I stepped back and took her with me. When the back of my legs hit the bed I sat down, leaving Mom's breasts just the perfect height for me to nurse on. Mom's groans were loud in my ear as I sucked on her breasts, going back and forth while her hand cradled my head to her bosom while softly encouraging me to keep going.

"So nice Johnny," Mom sighed while she ran her fingers through my scalp.

Sweat was pouring down my forehead and into my eyes, a reflection of not only the warmth of the room but of the heat we were radiating together, and from the jungle of hair that was exposed with Mom's upraised arm I saw a trickle of sweat trickle down her side and over her lush hip.

I eased Mom onto the bed and spread her legs, affording me a delightful view of her thickly haired sex, which was hidden under the dense forest which overflowed her delta, spilling onto the insides of her thighs and way down between her legs.

My head went down and I buried my face into the black thicket, and while Mom's pussy might have not been visible it was easy to find because her opening was dripping wet and the scent that filled my senses was that of a woman in heat. That aroma and that taste made my entire body shudder as I began to lick away, snorting like an a****l.

I didn't care how I sounded, because as Mom's plump and shapely legs kicked above my shoulders, I was in another world. Years of wanting this made the moment even more special, and I was actually glad that I had been made to wait.

You see, I was not a virgin, and when I recall my early amateurish attempts at lovemaking I cringe, but I was glad that Mom would not be subjected to that. She deserved to have an artist make love to her, and while I wasn't that good, I was a lot better that I had been before with Teresa.

Pulling my face out from her sex, I crawled up between Mom's thighs while she looked at me with glazed eyes. Our eyes never left each other as I rubbed the head of my cock up and down Mom's opening before easing the tip in.

I had been with a virgin once, but Mom was every bit as tight as she had been, and it was obvious that while Mom wanted it, I was hurting her so I backed off a bit, rubbing my dick head around her clit while Mom writhed in the bedding. Photos http://exe.io/UaxgqyGs

"Please Johnny," Mom was moaning. "Put it in me."

This time when I pushed the head of my cock inside of her - maybe Mom had relaxed or something - but whatever the reason, it was a little less tight so I eased further in. Slipping a tiny bit more of me in with each little push, I looked down and saw only about half of my cock still outside of the thick bush.

"That's good Johnny," Mom was mumbling, her head rolling back and forth while she clawed at my biceps. "So good."

It was good - too good - because I had to look over Mom's face and up to the headboard. Not only was Mom's voice exciting me, but simply looking at her was almost enough to make me cum way too fast. I wanted to last, at least long enough for her to cum before I came myself, so I kept slowly moving the end of my cock in and out while thinking of anything except what I was doing.

"More Johnny," Mom was saying, her fingernails digging into my arms. "Give me more of your big thing. Please... omigod! Harder... faster."

I was fighting a losing battle and I knew it. Thinking about anything besides Mom - soccer games and fishing trips - nothing was working. I did as Mom asked, thrusting hard and fast into her. She was getting all I had, and I felt myself about to cum when Mom lifted her upper torso up from the bedding, her eyes rolled back in her head while she let out the most blood curdling scream I ever heard.

My cock felt like it was being crushed while her pussy contracted savagely around it, and I had to fight to keep from being forced out of her vice-like sex while Mom bit into my collarbone hard. Again and again my cock got hammered while I shot my seed deep into her womb, and when Mom finally fell back into the bedding I was still spurting.

"Johnny," Mom gasped as I eased down onto her. "You're so good to me. Thank you."

I was good to her? She had just given me what I had dreamed about for as long as I good remember, and I was just happy to have lasted long enough to experience making my mother orgasm. The fact that half the neighborhood probably heard her cum was only now dawning on me, but Mom didn't care.

"Nice to be able to let it out like that," Mom said after I eased down next to her. "When you were down the hall Dad used to stuff things in my mouth to try to keep me quiet."

Mom was examining what would become a bruise on my collarbone, apologizing for giving me a battle scar that I would enjoy wearing until it faded, but I brought my mouth up to her full red lips to silence her. Kissing Mom like this was nearly as incredible as making love had been, and Mom was one hell of a kisser.

Mom fell back onto the bedding, exhaling loudly while putting her hands behind her head, giving me a naughty grin as she watched my eyes follow her movements. Her breasts lost little with her on her back, although the huge natural jugs did fall back into themselves a bit.

"Hope I don't smell," Mom said as I toyed with her damp armpit hair, and while the perfume that was released with my playing was nothing you could buy in a store, it was far from unpleasant. "Dad - he used to hate me to wear deodorant because he said it burned her tongue. I wasn't sure what to do - wasn't sure that this was even going to happen"

"You smell and taste delicious," I said as I kissed the musky jungle. "And even though I don't know who seduced who, I'm loving every second.

"You're your father's son alright," Mom said, her eyes watering up as she probably thought back to days gone by. "You're going to make some girl a lucky woman some day."

"I've got the woman I want right now," I said as I licked around the perimeter of her enormous areola, making the fat nipple come back to life.

"Your father - he was never a one and done man," she sighed as she felt my cock begin to stiffen against her hip while I suckled on her breasts. "And you already made the cum twice."

"It's early yet," I said, not mentioning that I had also jerked off before, and as I looked down at my semen oozing out of Mom's pussy, the milky white looking stark against the rich black hair, it turned out that my suggestion was correct.

I think we must have fallen asleep just before the sun came up, and although Mom claimed that she wouldn't be able to walk in the morning, she was up well before me. When I staggered out to the kitchen, led by the scent of bacon frying and Mom singing, she looked radiant.

"Morning beautiful," I said as I stumbled toward her, and it was no lie, because although she was only wearing a bathrobe and had no make-up on, she glowed.

"A naked man in my kitchen!" Mom said as I kissed her neck. "Never had that before."

"This can wait," I said of the bacon she had put on towels to drain, and then I was lifting her up and putting her butt on the counter while she laughed.

"I took a shower," Mom said.

"I want to make you take another," I said as I kissed her. "Ignore my scent."

"You smell like a man," Mom said, first tickling me under the arms and then lifting my hand and burying her face under my arm, giving me an unexpected thrill as I experienced what it felt like for Mom when I played with her like that.

"Oh geez!" I groaned while Mom sucked and licked my armpit before emerging giggling.

"How you like it?" Mom cackled as she observed my reaction. "It don't bother you that your mother has more hair under her arms than you do?"

"Not a bit," I said happily. "You're in a good mood, especially since you were never much of a morning person."

"That's what you get when you please your woman. You get a happy lady," Mom said. "Now get me down."

"Not yet," I said as I opened the bottom of her robe, delighted that there was nothing underneath the robe except for a dense forest of hair.

"Omigod!" Mom muttered as I buried my face in the thicket, but she was also easing closer to the edge of the counter and running her hands through my scalp.

A few minutes later Mom was howling again, having knocked over some Tupperware from the counter while her thighs slammed over my ears, only slightly muffling her cries as she came, and she finally had to pull my head out from her furry grotto.

"Your bacon is getting cold," Mom said as I looked at her wet opening, my cock stiff as a board. "And I'm awful sore down there. Four times last night was a lot for a old lady."

"Let me just put it in a little," I said, but Mom was adamant.

"Eat! You're a growing boy," Mom said, jumping down from the counter and insisting I take a plate of pancakes and bacon over to the table. "You don't have to get dressed. Just don't get syrup on your dingus."

"I'll be careful," I said as I tore into the breakfast, the idea of me eating naked at the kitchen table as crazy as the way Mom was looking at me, her eyes focused on my cock.

"I'm stuffed," I said as I pushed back from the table, and when Mom asked me if I was sure, I assured her that I couldn't eat another bite.

"Good boy," Mom said as she went down to her knees in front of me and took my cock in her hand, and although I had lost most of my hard-on while eating, I was stiff again after Mom's lips went to work.

She looked like Sophia Loren as her head bobbed up and down, going way down most of the length of my cock and peeking up at me with a twinkle in her eye, or at least as much like Sophia Loren as a woman in a bathrobe kneeling on well-worn linoleum in the kitchen of a working class house in Troy, New York could manage.

"I love you so much, Mom," I remember saying as my orgasm neared, and as her mouth bobbed up and down faster and her palm kneaded my balls, I cried out that I was cumming.

"Mmm... your sap tastes so sweet," Mom said as her tongue caught a trickle of cum that tried to sneak out of the corner of her mouth after I finally finished shooting.

"I think I'll take that shower now," I said as Mom got up to her feet.

"Up to you," Mom said. "I kinda like you the way you are now. Maybe we could take a shower together later, if you give me a reason to sweat that is."

"I thought you said you were sore," I said.

"You got a tongue," Mom said. "And I bet you could make me forget about being sore after a while. Didn't feel like getting dressed today anyway."

"Mom!" I giggled as she started walking toward the bedroom, letting the bathrobe slide off her shoulders and she gave me an incredible view of her lush form from behind, her full and shapely buttocks hardly jiggling a bit as she headed toward the bedroom.

"Your fault Johnny," Mom said over her shoulder as I got up from the table and followed her down the hall. "You got me feeling like a k** again, so now you got to deal with it. Unless you're not up to the job that is."

I was up to it, that much I proved that day, and over the course of my winter break from school I lost track of the number of times we made love. Every position and everything that two people can do to each other, we did, and in every room of the house as well.

Our relationship changed forever after that, and to this day, with apologies to my wife who I love dearly, I have never experienced any woman who could equal the love of my life, my Mom.