I knew this only triggered my sons fascination for my pussy. Until that time it was only something you put your 'thing' in to get off, or to lick, jus... because it made me feel good.Today I have heard it's called something like 'fist-fucking', but at that time it was only a game for us. They would take turns pushing their hands inside of me, sometimes as deep as halfway up to their elbows. I can't say I really got any pleasure out of it, more than feeling myself very stuffed, something I. We had parted with nothing resolved. I had entered more honestly into the school social life, although it had been rather late for that. I had discovered that I didn't like kissing or petting with other boys, and that drawing the line was much harder with them.Bob had signed up for a third summer of road construction. His brief interim at home had included as much time together as before, but most of it had been spent in recrimination. He had said that he had stopped having sex. I'd told him. More

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