The look in Mom’s eyes was telling me to let her in. As I allowed a gap to form between my top and bottom lips, I felt mom’s tongue slide into my ...outh. Now it was looking for my own tongue. I felt a bolt of electricity roam through my entire body as the tips of our tongues touched. At the same time, I became aware of a hardening within my pants. Jeez, I was french kissing my own mom, and getting a hard-on as well. It was at that point that civilised morals gave way to a****l nature. I became. I just want to take off that powder blue sweater and touch the breasts I know are bare underneath. And kiss her neck, smell her hair. I look up and see the artist watching me. I can feel her pencil on the back of my neck as she draws. Is she drawing me? The woman on the lawn? She stares at me looking at her for a few seconds, appraising me, then goes back to drawing, looking at the strawberry blonde. I start to breathe again, feeling her drawing on my neck. My neck is how my husband first. More

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