Then she added, “What else did I tell you?”“Nothing other than she played with your pussy at the table. I know when you got home your pussy was ... swamp,” I said with a laugh and saw my mother blush.“Are you mad?” she asked.“Not at all. Hey, what eighteen-year-old guy would get mad at a gorgeous woman lusting after his lover? Remember all us guys think with our cocks.”“Humm,” she said, looking at me strangely.“What?” I said.“I don’t know if I should mention this, but I guess ... well,” she said. You know that it can’t last, fear that it won’t. This is just a phase, no slave gets treated this well, at least not long term. You have been taught that Masters are very controlling and unpredictable. You know better than to allow yourself to feel such comfort, but for the moment you indulge yourself in the pleasure of the soft towel caressing your skin, gliding over your breasts, down your tummy, over your hips with such slow and deliberate movements. You feel me pick up your leg as I run. More

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