About two hours later there was a soft rapping on the door. It was mom."Mike, can I talk to you honey; I'm sorry I yelled at you; come and talk to me ...lease," she begged."Let's go sit in the lounge room and talk ok?"I unlocked my bedroom door and went into the lounge room. She was sitting on the couch and was obviously drunk. Her makeup had run down her cheeks, her hair was dishevelled and her skirt had ridden up exposing the darker band of her control-top pantyhose on the top of her thighs.. (A few weeks later)I ordered a beer and scanned the crowd, seeing a lot of pretty young girls. Many smiled at me invitingly. I smiled back, but returned my attention to my beer. My head's wired differently, I know I'm strange. Single girls don't interest me. I look for the older women with wedding rings on their left hands. None of my friends have this obsession. But I can't help myself. Since that first time with Suzanne, the only thing that excites me is fucking women who belong to other men.. More

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