Hopefully, young Tristan would take pity on his poor, horny Aunt and say nothing to his mother.She had just exited her suite, dressed in sandals, Capr... pants, and a relatively low-cut blouse, when she heard a honk from the steps below. It was a smiling Tristan, perched atop his shiny Italian scooter.Oh dear, thought Doris. But before she could offer a word of apology for the night before, Tristan launched into his plans to take her along the coast to a lovely seaside restaurant for lunch. Grace. The levels of my husbands, and my own, sexuality reversed, in the final years leading to our divorce, that my desires were fertile and his own were... well, bordering on marital neglect.Something had happened to me, caused me to sit back down. Fascination that my twenty-eight year-old son was getting an erection by the weight of his mothers own bottom! It was almost a grand provocative joke - one that I could could never share or even express to another living soul.My eyes turned and I looked. More

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