"Ahh!" she breathed out. Thrusting her hips hand and slow. Her mouth close to his, both open, hers exhaling long in pleasure, his letting out a wounde... wail. Joined in the wonderful moment that seemed to stretch on and on. The rapist and the raped. The victim and the perpetrator. The owner and the slave.His face firmly held in her hands, the boy finally stopped his bawling. He didn't look any happier however. Broken. Frightened. And so, so vulnerable."Beautiful!" she whispered. Then gave his. "We were... uh, playing a game." Truth or Dare?" Mom asked.What the hell is this, I wondered?"How'd you know?" I asked, perplexed once again by my mother's seeming omniscience."I didn't, but it's what came to mind. Probably because that's what I'd do in the same situation." She paused and then went on, "You and Jean explore 'your situation' anymore?"Our 'situation.' I was embarrassed. Even though we'd had an open, heart-to-heart conversation about sex, Mom and me, I still found it difficult to. More

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