She led me to the sofa anxiously, eagerly. This time as I looked back through the doorway I saw Carla, standing in the shadow. Watching. Had I wanted ...o let her catch me or was it the soft demand from Mom she had heard. To late, I had to do this. I had to. Mom lay back on the sofa, hiking her dress up to her waist as she did so and revealing black pantyhose but no panties beneath. She held her arms out for me. "Take me Peter," she said.Groaning, I fumbled with my pants. Mom sat forward to help. But is this ok? Or is it out of bounds?I wanted to grab the phone, call her. Hear her voice, feel her tone. She was gone to her yoga class, she’d be back soon. I’d have to wait. What should I do? Delete? Deny? Come clean? Prepare supper, open a good bottle of wine, be loving. We hadn’t had sex in almost two weeks, too busy, too tired at the end of the day. Be gentle. Make love. Then talk.On the screen, thumbnails of dozens, and dozens of women saying exactly the same thing, an endless loop.. More

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