"Ohhhhh noooo, ohhhh noooo!" I groaned burying my tongue in his asshole,hiding my face in embarrassment. Muffling my cries as the huge, firmshit started sliding out.I knew there was nothing I could do!"You nasty. Dirty little sissy!" He yanked at my hair roughly, pullingmy face up and slapped me hard across the face. The hot sting surprisedme and I relaxed for an instant.With my concentration broken I felt the hot bulge quickly grow betweenmy legs.I remembered.I could finally picture the cute little girl in the department storebegging her mother to take her to the bathroom. First she crossed herlegs and then a few minutes later I noticed the little stream run downher legs, wetting her stockings and pooling under her pretty shoes. Shestarted to cry and her mother still ignored her. Time after time thelittle girl asked and time after time the mother ignored her. Finallythe girl stamped her feet and tugged her mother's sleeve and said, "It'stoo late." I watched mesmerized as the little. Mom took the roll of cloth she’d carried out of the bathroom and draped it over the upraised flaps of a box of last-minute odds and ends in the back seat. “I had to wash out my nightgown,” she said. “Mike, would you please keep an eye on it so that it doesn’t blow away, and turn it so that it dries evenly?”I remember nothing about the drive. I was so completely locked into my mind, trying to restructure my whole picture of reality, that, for all intents and purposes, nothing outside of me existed. The relationship between my mother and me had changed, and I didn’t know what to do with that change. I sensed a war between notions of right and wrong and my own pleasure and desire.I was curious about the sex act itself, what it felt like to Mom, how she was put together, how the whole thing worked. I wanted to know why. I wanted to tell Mom that I loved her. I wanted to touch her arm, stroke her thigh. I wanted to fuck her again, but I wanted it to be open, acknowledged. I wanted to talk..
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