Christine gathered her handbag and turned to the pair. “We're just gonna walk down to the service station to get some smokes. You two love-birds wan...t anything?”They both answered in the negative. I could see Mandy’s hand had moved up to rest on Matt’s thigh. My imprisoned cock throbbed again.“Okay,” Christine replied. She sent the pair a grin and playfully added: “We won’t be long, but we don’t wanna get back and find you two lovebirds steaming up our couch! Use the damned spare bedroom, okay?”. I was 22 and it was as if I had stopped growing, stopped maturing, I had the breasts of a girl mid puberty with 3/4" nipples that made me wet when they rubbed against my shirt, so I used sellotape to keep them down, like a man with an erection pushing it between his thighs to hide his excitement for a girl he wants badly.If I pulled my hair back I looked seven years younger, if I wore it in a ponytail, I was tomboyish, in bunches, I was ripe for plucking and even old men could go without. He'd really enjoyed his time with his mother on this visit to Cornwall. He couldn't explain the difference in their relationship on this trip, but something seemed to have changed between them. She seemed to be treating him more like a man than her young son. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was, but there was just something different. And he liked that difference! They somehow seemed closer now. And away from home, she had become a different woman. A woman, he sickly thought. Not. The saw warned... well you get the idea. I couldn't stand it and escaped as only a true TV can - I ran into the bedroom and got dressed.At least I tried to. I couldn't help myself; I had to see what those little tags on the clothes said. My bra warned me to wash in cold water and hand dry. My girdle warned me that prolonged squeezing of my abdomen could lead to faintness, intestinal problems and funny marks on my skin. My pantyhose could cause strangled calves if worn too long. Boy was I glad.