I'm s-s-s-so sorry." It's all right." I lied, because it did hurt. "I'm sorry, too, but it is what it is. At least we can still hug sometimes, can't w...?" Of course." Thank you," I whispered through my own tears, squeezing her to me. After another long, teary hug we got untangled and I did the quick version of my morning routine while Missy snuffled, wiped her tears, tossed my bed back together, and gave her face a quick wash. Then we tumbled down the stairs to scarf down plates of Mom's French. I tried not to look at my almost naked mom but was impossible. At forty-three years of age she was a very attractive woman; 120 pounds, long muscular legs and an almost flat belly, a consequence of a three times a week workout. Her breasts, after bearing three c***dren, weren't exactly firm but were still good for her age, crowned by two large light-brown areolas and long, thin nipples. The soaking panties revealed a large dark shadow underneath. To my surprise I found myself enjoying the sight. More

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