It was a country cottage with warm orange andyellow light coming from the windows and a Christmas tree outside thedoor. A single set of footprints in...the snow went up the garden path tothe door and across the top were the words; A Christmas Hearth Warm withLove. She had signed it at the bottom not inside in the normal mannerand written; Happy Christmas and Welcome Home, Charlie." I threw therope to him and sat on the side of the dinghy, buried my face in myhands and started to cry.I was. " He chuckled nervously. "All the time?" "Sure." It felt surreal confessing this to my son. I always kept my self-pleasuring habits strictly private, and never spoke of them to anyone - not even my husband. "Everyone does it. Even moms masturbate from time to time." I gave him a wink. He looked shocked. "But...you're married," he stammered. "True..." I knew what he was getting at, but I was hoping to draw him out. "I mean, well, I figured that was something people did only because they didn't. More

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