A Fathers trash is a Son’s treasure |
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Introduction: I’m writing this experience as to what men are capable of and circumstances possible… All I’m about to write happened while I slept and dreamt of my sleeping mother next to me. She wore a night dress that was just above the knee, our backs against each other and warmth pressing against my behind.. I still ask myself was it the heat or the flesh of her well proportioned behind against my back? The story is pure fiction and fantasy. |