He lifted her to where she was sitting on the counter as she reached to unbutton his shirt. They had only spoken a handful of words to each other yet ...o more were necessary. They could each feel the heat coming off the other's skin. He ran his hands up her thighs and up under her skirt, feeling where her thigh-highs ended and his hands came in contact with bare skin. It was hot to his touch, and he rubbed the insides of her thighs, teasing her and making her tremble. She pushed his shirt back. She was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt, her customary loungewear over the past few years. Her sweat pants fit like a glove on her thick thighs and round, bubbly butt. I was tempted to rip them down her body right then and take her from behind. This was the dichotomy of my mind at that moment: wanting to make nice, sweet love to my mother, but also wanting to passionately and hardly penetrate every last one of her orifices.Finally finishing in the refrigerator, my mother stood up and noticed. More

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