'Come to me,' she said, 'come come, come to me. I want you.'The slightly cooler breeze of the onset of rain crept in through the patio doors, circling...her, enveloping her, and waking her from her waking dreamy sleep.'You are here,' she whispered to the silence, to the nothing there. Barefoot and free of all other material forms, her slenderness on show to the world - if it should happen to be watching - she stood in the doorway. She glanced to the clock on the sideboard - a parting gift from. More." said his mother.He got up and went to his room, where he tried to think about his homework assignment. How could he possibly write a poem when all he could think about was his mother's body? The curve of her breasts, with their up-looking nipples, looking like tiny ski jumps or something.He stiffened. Wait a minute ... what if...He sat down and picked up his pencil.Thirty minutes later he laid the pencil down, undressed, put on his robe, and went to find his mother. She was in the living. More

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