She was no hippy, she was merely utterly independent.That evening, we’d had a wonderful meal. Venison, from a deer Tessa had shot herself, slowly ca...seroled with wine, rosemary, onions and redcurrants until it was as tender as you can imagine. We’d got a bit drunk, as always. We laughed and talked until midnight when Glenda and I went to bed. I lay beside Glenda, listening to her familiar sounds, the little snuffles as she tried to sleep, the way her breathing became more regular as she drifted. "Meet me in the wine cellar at 12:15 is that understood?” she asked, like she would when she was laying down the law when I lived at home. "Yes, Mom," I agreed, still unable to fathom the reality I was currently living. "Good," Mom smiled as the song ended. Pulling me in for a hug, her breasts firmly pressed into me, she whispered, "Now don't you be late son." Before I could respond she was gone, and the massive tent in my pants was no longer obscured by mom. I quickly moved to a table and. More

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