The Love Shared (Part 7)
I was screwed. In more ways than one of course, but screwed none the less. I glanced at the clock on Mom’s bedside table, it was six-forty five which meant only one thing. Time to get up. I turned my head and looked at her, she was beautiful. Her hair was spread over the pillow as if it were laid out for a photograph. She was blissfully asleep still and I really didn’t want to wake her. I felt her stockings rub up against my leg as she moved, they were the one item of lingerie that had remained on her body last night. I don’t even know what time we finished with one another. It was the second night in a row that we had shared the same bed, and for the second morning …