Jenny caught me up in there as I was devouring a bacon sandwich and a strong coffee. She ordered a coffee then sat down too.“Don’t you want any to...st or anything with it?” I prompted her.“Shit no, I’m far too fragile, what the hell was I drinking that got me this bad?”“Before, or after those half dozen malt whiskies in that last pub?”I laughed. She groaned and held her head in both hands.“My God, no wonder I was pissed, I didn’t make a real arsehole of myself did I?“No, you were ok in the Pub,. Well, how did I feel right then? Since I had fist begun toendure my mother's preparations earlier in the day there had been a mixof embarrassment, curiosity, and abject terror. That had been graduallyreplaced since I first saw myself in the mirror with a felling of... notarousal, that was the wrong word. I was a sixteen year old, and I feltthat at the slightest provocation. No , this was a feeling that Icouldn't describe at the time, but now recognize as wholeness. I feltright, I felt. My other hand roamed my bare chest, my nipples, my tummy.I felt up my ass through the undies, packed so pert and tight that I had to jut it lewdly back to prod a tickling finger between my cheeks to my puckerhole. My hands groped inside to jerk my rod, while two of my fingers wriggled into my hole. My grunting didn't last. "Fuck fuck fuck," I came in hot globs down my hand and inside of Mommy's panties, spilling from the top and onto her carpet, until I finished ass-riding my hand and collapsed. Oh my, but she was a great fuck, and there she was dressed in white. I wonder what's she told her hubby about her past, nothing if she got any sense. I had stopped on impulse, but now I had seen her again, things had changed. I drove home, had a shower and put on my best suit, ready to go to the reception. I still had an hour to kill, so from the back of the wardrobe I fished out a shoebox containing my stash of photographs. It wasn't hard to find a picture of Clare, at least half of them were.
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