“Remember the warning I gave you last night, you have one week to be out of here. I better not hear that your fuck buddy has been in this house, if ...ou want to fuck him. Go to a motel like all whores do.” “Please Jim I love you, don’t leave me.” “If you love me, what were you doing fucking another man last evening?” With that he walked out. I fainted for a few minutes I think. The fact that he firmly believed that I was having an affair with Marty hurt a lot, so did his calling me a whore. I. We were eating lunch on a Sunday afternoon. I stared at my mom's tits, like I usually did. She might not be a model, but she's got the pose down perfect, 'did I leave my panties on the couch again?', with a tilted smile.I know. I know. Real children don't sexualize their parents. I'm not going to pretend understand it either, but her tits stared back! I swear. No matter where I was in a room, they followed me. Who wouldn't be suspicious? Sex and my mother were like cars for geese. She didn't. I was waiting to greet them. Mumthrew herself into my arms. "Oh darling, I am so proud of you," shecried. "To think that you have made such a success of things here inLondon; your work might not be what Dad and I had envisaged for you butyou are clearly very good at it and, if this is what you want to do, wewill back you all the way!" Of course we will son," Dad muttered in agreement, perhaps a bit lessenthusiastically than Mum!I took the two of them around the backstage area introducing them. "Er, no, er, not well at all. I er, woke up in the middle of the night."Marianne's expression grew more concerned."Oh, Simon, are you getting nightmares? You should have said something!" No! Well, I mean, sometimes, but not last night. No, I, er, I just woke up, and couldn't get back to sleep afterwards."Just then the door opened and Jennifer popped her head through."Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes. Hungry, Simon?" she asked, face innocent.Simon blushed. Marianne turned away from.
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