I reset the parallax adapter and handed it back. “Don’t use the regular view finder with this lens,” I told her. “Frame your photos by looking...through this little thing on top,” I said, pointing to the bulbous parallax adapter. Jillian thanked me, asked my name, and wanted to know about my life in San Francisco. Most of all, she was fascinated by the old wooden view-camera with its red-leather bellows, polished brass lens and panoply of shinny metal fittings. It was a family heirloom that to me. Lyn and I just kept on feeling and kissing us. Mom acted like she was in a trance and slowly laid down beside us to watch. Now we were getting someplace with mom. She was showing her arousement. Her breathing. Her pink face. Her twitch in her legs were all the signs Lyn and I saw that let us know. Lyn whispered very quietly in my ear: (Moms hot…tee hee.) We hadnt intended for this to happen, but Lyn and I were enjoying this little show we were doing for mom&hellip, a little to much. Putting. More

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