“You don’t want to be my slut?” I enquired, my finger stopping deep inside her wet box.Her breathing was getting heavier and she pleaded, “Cur...is, I can’t. I have resisted for so long.”Suddenly confused, I asked, very curious, “Resisted what for so long?”“Being a slut,” she moaned, as she moved her ass back and forth trying to fuck herself with my finger.“But you fuck Miranda,” I pointed out.“Yes, but I am in charge in our relationship. She is my slut,” my Mom explained.I pulled my finger. “But you’ve done them,” she insisted.“Yes,” he said. “Now, go to bed!”She got up, and started out. Then she came back.“Good night,” she said, leaning down to kiss him again.This time, when his hands molded themselves to her breasts, she didn’t jerk back.She just licked his tongue with her own.Months passed. Sherry still needed him, though not quite as often. Being pregnant wasn’t as much fun as she had thought it would be. Her stomach was upset a lot, and her ankles swelled. Still, there was. More

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