My frenzied fingers dug into your thighs to inflict suffering as you were making me suffer, assuring myself that you were real, and not another dream....I felt your spongy head open me, enter me, and then, maddeningly pause. Michael! I tried to thrust back, to engulf you before it was too late. But your hands were too strong. And then it was just too much. The icy sliver in my anus, your erection pulsing in my furrow, your breathless whisperings in my ear... the tension snapped, and I came and. She nodded her head and said to him, "Yes my son, you have become a man, and I am proud that you are my son." He stopped and looked at her and softly spoke, not the Cheyenne language as they been, but in the English language that was the language of his birth. "I am very proud that you are my mother. I have never shown you the respect that you deserve. I never understood the things that you had to do to care for us. I only saw how the people treated you and us, and I hated you for that. My. More

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