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Mother enlists daughter.

"

Mom drew in a sharp breath, catching a tiny cry in her throat as she did. Her eyes grew glassy.

"The times we've been together, I've never felt closer to you or more loved by you. I did do things-tricky things-to make you want to stay and help me, but it was always because I loved being with you and being loved by you. I'm sorry."

She nodded, her eyes and lips pinching together in sadness.

I went on. "But, I screwed up. I know that...that not teaching me about sex anymore and helping...I know it doesn't mean that you don't love me."

She wiped her eyes, sobbing.

I hugged her and whispered into her ear. "I'm your boy. You're my Mom. Nothing can change that. I promise you: you'll never lose me, and I'll love you forever."

Mom let out a sharp, short cry. It seemed involuntary. It was a high pitched, plaintive burst. Following it, she clutched me in her arms and wept on my shoulder. She sobbed, telling me she loved me, and she cried, "Oh, my baby, my sweet, sweet, baby."

It wasn't comfortable, hugging someone laying in bed on her side while I was on my knees beside the mattress. Mom broke the hug to wipe her eyes.

Laying there on her side, weeping, I climbed in next to her, to hold her.

When I settled behind her, I wrapped my arm around her tummy. She enfolded my arm in hers, and I kissed the back of her head.

Mom said, "Here." She slid her comforter from under me and threw it over the both of us.

I was glad at what I'd done-content at my words and actions. I'd done the right thing.

I felt good.

Then, I felt something else.

I was in my boxers, and I felt the warm, smooth skin on the back of her thighs on the front of mine. She must be in panties, I thought.

I pinched my eyes shut: No. Do not think about it.

Instead, I thought about my father, and how he'd left us all out of guilt. I thought about how Mom must have decided, in her mind, that I had been about to do the same thing to her. No wonder she freaked.

Soon, she was no longer crying.

But, my struggle was far from over. She made a minute adjustment to her position, and it resulted in her bottom nestling into my groin.

It was time to go. I pulled my arm free of hers and began to sit up. "Let you sleep," I whispered

"Hold me just a little longer," she pleaded.

I laid back down on my side; Mom reset herself. Again, I felt the soft flesh of her bottom-through her panties and my boxers-on my penis.

This was trouble. I struggled not to think about our position.

It didn't matter. My penis began to inflate against her, so I drew back my hips, breaking contact.

Mom sighed and she reached behind her head, scooped up the entire pile of her hair and brought it to her front. I stared in the darkness at the smooth curvature of her nape and how it sloped toward her shoulder. Mom released my arm and clutched it again, drawing it slightly higher on her chest. I felt the underside of one of her breasts on my forearm.

My erection surged to the halfway point, and, to my alarm, grew through the hole in the front of my boxers. I was exposed.

Mom breathed softly.

I looked at her neck, bare and smooth. Her hair smelled like summer berries. I felt the gentle pressure of her breast on my arm. I let my mind imagine Mom's beautiful butt. I remembered its sweeping curves, its mass, and the beauty of the cream-colored skin that cover it, shining. I remembered touching it the very first time, placing my hands on her bottom. The urge to put my lips on it had been irresistible. Then, after I'd kissed it, I couldn't help but think how I wanted to see more, how I squeezed her flesh into my fingers, at first, to feel the softness, but then I did it again to see inside. I glimpsed her tight pink spot, and for whatever reason, I had wanted it.

I dwelled on these images, feeling my erection complete itself. It shot out from me, through the hole in my shorts, hovering and throbbing. It felt good to be so hard and ready. It pointed, I knew, right at those two creamy-white spheres packed tautly into her silky panties.

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