The next thing I knew, we were in the bedroom, the one my mother was going to share with my father – or at least that was my assumption at the time....My mother and I carried on kissing, dancing towards the bed, clutching and grasping.“You love me, don’t you, Carl?”I paused when my mother said it. She was on the bed, backside against the sheet, torso angled as she leaned back, resting on both elbows and forearms. Her eyes were set right on my face, her expression unsure. “Of course,” I said,. After a few long wet ones she snuggled up to me and whispered, “You are my very best friend. Sex is fun and I’d like to share it with you. I’m already knocked up and going to hell so what difference does it make?”We were Catholic and sex was a bad sin, we’d been told, but there was always confession. She had her hand on the crotch of my pants and felt my erection. “Feels like it has grown a lot since I last saw it. I know how to make it feel good. Please?”I ask you, how could a. More

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