He slowly strolled to the kitchen to find his mother, leaning over the kitchen sink her impressive bust submerged in the sink's water, soaking through...her top."Hey honey! I was just washing the dishes" she shouts, turning around revealing her wet tank top, no bar, her nipples seeping through the drenched top. "I've got to run out for a few chores," she blushes, "I'll be back tonight." Slowly she approaches Max, her bust wobbles with each step, leaning over to kiss Max's cheek. His mother Rae. My mouth dried, and my balls began to tighten. From the first entry, it was clear that this was Craig’ ‘very personal’ diary, where he wrote down all his most private thoughts, and experiences. But the most exciting thing, to me, was the extent to which Stacey figured in these sexual fantasies.Stacey had told me that, from a very early age, she and her brother used to creep into each other’s beds at night, for mutual comfort, when one or other of them had been on the wrong end of the strict. Oh, nuts! MAYBE this happened."Hey, Michelle, I want to ask you something."I was deep into one of those novels where a big hairy Scot was distressing a damsel no end when my husband produced this remark. Since talk of any sort is not one of his big things, I swam up to answer."Yeah?"I'm always gracious when people interrupt my reading."I wanted to ask you," he said, "if those romance things you read all the time are sexy."Now as far as I know--and I ought to know if anybody does, right?--sex is. “Good for you. If you ever stop back in this area, I’ll buy you a drink,” she suggested.“I don’t drink, but I might stop in for a glass of iced tea,” I suggested.“I’ll buy some tea bags just in case,” she offered.“You do that little lady,” I said it in my way overdone fake southern drawl. “Well, we got to get on the road.”With that I stepped onto the top of the scooter and sat down. Yes, it was a lot like riding a dining room chair down the road at fifty miles and hour. It was my first scooter.
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