They walked on without a pause in conversation.They had their picnic, again simple but different: soup of course but then cold chipolata sausages followed by Brie cheese and tomato sandwiches washed down with lager. Terry thanked her with a gentle kiss.In the afternoon they visited the RSPB and were led round by a delightful young woman called Annette. They arrived back at Grace’s for tea.For the first time they sat together on the sofa. Terry tried nothing on but found as time went on that Grace was edging closer and closer. She was shy about it though and it was very gradual, almost unwitting. Finally his arm went tentatively round her shoulders. She hummed softly and smiled up at him. He kissed her lips very gently. Her smile widened.“Oh, Grace,” he murmured and tightened his arm slightly. “You are a very special and beautiful girl but I don’t want to take advantage of you.”“What do you mean?”“You’re still on the rebound.”“No, Terry. Mike is over, completely and utterly. I realise. When she hugged me, it was full body contact with her crotch pressing tightly against mine, her hard nipples boring into my muscular chest. When we sat next to one another on the sofa in the evening she would press close into my side, our shoulder, hips, and thighs pressed firmly against one another. When we kissed, it was an intimate kiss on the lips, hard and long. I started reading all kinds of books on sex that winter. Books on sexual physiology. Books on sexual positions. Books on masturbation techniques. Books on sensual massage techniques. I knew that eventually I was going to have sex with my beautiful mother and I wanted to know what I was doing when it happened. It finally happened on my seventeenth birthday. My birthday had started out like most days did during the hot summer months with the two of us stretched out side by side by the pool working on our tans. Christina, I had been calling my mother by her first name ever my fourteenth birthday, was lying on her stomach.
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