I liked the parts where she said she was still my mother, but I just…I could really only think about the parts where she said she loved me, the part...of returning her love. So I just sat there thinking, my mom patiently staying silent just rubbing my knees gently, not rushing me at all, it was nice. Heh to be honest I knew my answer to the question she hadn’t technically asked, the second she was done speaking, I knew I was going to kiss her and I knew I wanted to be with her again, but I stood. It germinated and sprouted in our pillow talk over the next several months. Then on a business trip to New York City, I picked up a couple of issues of the popular "swinger magazines" filling one shelf of a sleazy store in the Times Square area. "Select" and "Choice", I think were their titles. That was the major medium for meeting others with similar urges before the internet.We pored over the ads from others traveling ahead of us on the path to this exciting ruination. They didn't seem to be. More

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