You were going to just ask if you could have a snack, but just as you were about to push on the door that was left ajar, you decide to peek in first instead.  With the door open a few inches, you could clearly see mommy standing there, her back to you, as she unzips her dress.  You see her pink panties, her pink garter belt.  As she slides her dress off her shoulders it puddles around her feet; she steps out of it, and walks over to her vanity. The sight of her sitting there, brushing out her hair is having an unexpected effect on you.  You feel the, as of late, familiar swelling in your pants as you can’t seem to tear your eyes away.  The blood rushes to your face – leaving you flushed; the blood also rushes to another part of your anatomy, filling your head with thoughts you thought not possible…at least not about your mom. You don’t know why, but you find your hand reaching down and touching what your mommy embarrassingly stills calls “Mr. Winky.”  He approves of the attention you give it, and seems to demand more…more as it throbs and pulsates with a mind and need of its own, like a newborn baby demanding attention from its mommy. You are lost in your own rhythms, as you don’t notice your mommy catching the image of you in the mirror in front of her – the image of you touching yourself uncontrollably yet a bit awkwardly, revealing the instinct to stroke, but lacking in the execution to truly satisfy. She simply continues to brush her hair as she quietly but firmly commands you to come in.   Her soft order disrupts you and your activity, as the flush on your face is renewed.  She doesn’t try to cover herself up, but simply smiles when she turns around to look at you. With her hands crossed in front and resting them on her knees, she says, “You enjoy what you see” – it was a statement not a question. You try and feign ignorance, but your mommy – the one that had once held you as a baby, changed your diapers and nursed you at her bosom, knows you all to well.  With a wave of her hand and a soft chuckle, she stands up, takes your hand in hers and leads you to her bed.  Your heart races; your eyes linger on your mommy’s panties, her bra, her garter belt, her silky stockings; she touches you where your hand once was and continues where you had left off. “It’s all right dear; I know all about such things…let me teach you….” Care to help me finish my little fantasy?  Give me a call and we can do so together. Gina 1.888.430.2010