As long as she had her son's cock inside her, as far as it would go, she was happy. Up to now he'd fucked her every afternoon when he got home from sc...ool. But now that school was out for the summer, he began fucking her in the morning too, right after his father left for work. Sometimes they stayed in bed most of the day, fucking. They didn't do that often, though. She had housework to do, and shopping to be done. And the laundry. Jamie helped her with all of that, giving her more time to do. We did love him and in his way, his very own way, we think he loved us. We knew, somehow, he loved Mom and died, slowly, without her. He loved us but we were not Mom.We had a milk cow and from age six I milked. The milk probably saved our lives. When Bessie died we were thirteen. I walked ten miles to the Aaronson farm and in the dark of the night stole one of their hundreds of milk cows. We named her Bessie — we thought all milk cows were named Bessie."Cindy! Don't ever; don't ever let Bessie. More

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