Using her other hand she runs her fingers though my hair. “Shhhh, Mommy loves you.It’s ok.” I begin to relax and fail to notice the hand rubbing...my ass is slowly spreading my cheeks apart more and more often.It’s not long before she is pressing up against my hole.For a brief moment, she stops, and when she does, in a semi doze I try to pick up my head.The hand she had used to play with my hair took hold the back of my neck and calmly guides my head back to its place of rest. She says in a sweet. I had a T shirt when I was in college that said, ‘Nuke ‘em all. Let God sort them out.” It was my favorite T shirt. It horrified people, and that’s exactly why I wore it; to raise a fuss. I didn’t actually mean that the world should be blanketed in nuclear bombs.”“I’ve never seen a woman wearing something like this,” said my daughter. “Have you?”“No,” I admitted.“If it’s a fantasy, then it’s the private kind,” she said. “But still, even if it’s just a fantasy, millions of women have it.”I sat. More

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