At which point I realised she wasn’t going to walk round the house (I use the back door, usually) and scooped her up in my arms. She was light as a ...eather.The house was quite warm anyway, though I hadn’t left the heating on full. I sat her at the kitchen table, still wrapped in the space blanket, but I turned on the oven and got out a tin of tomato soup, that being the quickest thing I could think of, and dumped it into a saucepan.She was watching me with those enormous dark eyes, and. I tried to laugh out her question. But her face showed she was serious with her question. I fumbled for words “Anjali, what are you saying? Are you joking? How can you ask such a thing??”. She replied “No, I am serious”. “Have you gone mad”, I asked. “How can you do sex with your own son”. Even while I was saying this, the visuals of me having sex with my boy child started playing in my mind; however I tried to get rid of it. I squeezed my legs together when I felt my pussy melting. She said. More

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