Waiting for me to finish my shower, to come to you, to pay attention to you, to worship you. Your legs vibrate with anticipation, your tight jeans ru...bing against your smoothly shaved pussy and ass, no panties to protect your sensitive areas from the rough seams. Your nipples are hard, painfully hard, brushing against the white cotton tank top you were told to wear. You can smell the heat from your sex, the wetness of your body, both from your own recent shower and your building excitement. . III can’t pinpoint an exact moment when the attraction between me and Mom became mutual. As I think back on it, it was more of a series of episodes, each one building on the last. It was 1997 and Connecticut was experiencing its hottest June in fifty years. I was back home for summer after having just completed my second year at college. I’d spent the year playing wing for my college water polo team, the UCLA Bruins, and I was determined to spend next season playing center forward. For. More

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