It was useless; there was no way out for me. Only the acceptance of who I was and who he was. I couldn’t be without him, I needed him desperately, i... my thoughts, my mind; I needed his text messages, his calls on Skype, his smile and his hands, his body, his cock. It was a lovely and desperate condition I was in. How had I ended up so hooked? It was still a mind-blowing question for me. I was an adult, functioning, serious, slightly turned on when reading BDSM stories and intrigued by how. I rationalised that he was probably still sleeping and wasn't even aware of his close proximity to me or thought that I was sleeping also. Mark then d****d his hand over my breast. It was done innocently and in his sleep. I should have moved it away, I should have turned over, got out of bed, done something, anything to stop what was happening. But I couldn't, something in me refused to separate myself from my son. It felt nice, it felt warm, and it felt secure lying with him like this. Lying. More

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