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I am not the best with girls. “Hey it was kind of busy in here today, huh?” I asked with a smile while shaking my head. “Yeah, it was intense. I can’t wait to go home and take a hot shower.” Just the thought of seeing Emily in the shower was tantalizing to the senses. She is about 5’6, and 120 pounds with red hair that is dyed in the roots blonde. She has smaller tits and a nice ass, both of which complement her thinness. It was hard not to fantasize in front of her. “Hey, I’m almost done here. Wanna’ go get some coffee or something?” I asked as I finished closing the lids over the food, and walked out to turn the lights off. “Sure! I could use it. I have some homework to catch-up on.” We got changed in the locker rooms, and headed outside to our cars. The whole time I could not stop think about her luscious body, and how I want to tap it. It was such a hard fight for me because I sort of liked this other girl that was becoming close to me. “Where are we going?” she asked. "He pulled out his phone and brought up a photo of a woman - not me, but could be sort of. DAMN! There was some kind of genome juju going on. The really odd and scary thing was that I had a secret yen for my son to make love to me. He never would. He was dead, war, Iraq, IED, at 23. Afterwards I found the stuff he had written on his computer he left behind at home. Fantasies of sex with me, his mother.I read of his deep love, his wish to demonstrate it physically to me. His words spoke of a respect for me that had kept his desire secret unto death. But it didn't follow him to the grave. It lived on in his lurid writings on the hard-drive and in the driving lust it sparked in my loins for my son's hard-on. Now that he was gone, it seemed almost a double loss as the lover he might have become to me. Now we could never know that joy. But through reading his fantasies I was able at least to masturbate dreaming of my boy fucking me. Then I began to create my own "what if" dreams of incest..
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