She pulled back, and blinked at me.“Pat!” she said, as if she had just realized it was me. Who did she think she was hugging?Everybody else was ch...attering, and getting into the ice cream, so nobody noticed my mother molest me, or almost molest me. They were all trying at once to talk about the solution to the problem with the pictures. Finally Randi, who was the least drunk of them all, except for Tabby, who was only allowed a few sips, grabbed my shirt and pulled.“Come on,” she said. “I’ll. It will do fine. The room is cold but my clothes are nowhere to be found, probably downstairs. I sit down and start writing. How to write about it? I don’t really know. I am a writer but nothing has trained me for this. I don’t even have the vocabulary. Penis, vagina, coitus, copulate all sound so clinical. I want my words to be magical, not medical. Should I say fuck instead? Fuck. An honest Anglo-Saxon word. Fuck[,] frig[,] fiddle[,] all good words. But what of the genitalia. Prick or penis,. He couldn't help but dream of having those socked legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked a lesson or 10 into her.There was Jenna, the definition of a blonde sex toy, with huge tits to rival that of his mothers', with her sexy 40DD-24-29 body, long mid-back golden blonde hair that looked almost perfectly fake like any pornstars. It didn't help that she was wearing her cheerleading turtleneck and a skirt that gave glimpses of her yellow panties.Just as he was leaving school, crossing by the. .." Looking forward?" she blurted back at him. "I'm worried, Bert." He glanced over to her in the passenger's seat. He saw her bite her lower lip, and there was definitely a tremble in her voice. Her eyes were glistening with tears."Worried? What about, Mavis?" It's nothing," she replied and fell silent anew. They drove for another mile before she spoke again. "It's everything, Bert. I haven't been—intimate—since before Phil passed away. I thought I'd gotten used to not having that. This will.