Holding her under my firm grip, I began violently thrusting into her womb.“Noooo. NOOOO Deva…Stop it…..You can’t do this to me….Stop iToHHHH... It hurts…It hurts”I didn’t pay much heed to as I increased my pumping action.The room was filled with my beautiful mother’s moans and the sound of “Spluch” “spluch” as I began ramming into her..She was sobbing “ Noo…Oh god…this is a sin…Noo…With my own son….Noooooo…Don’t..do this to me beta”“Love is never a sin Maa…I love you with all my heart”Her moans. Yes, there was that other girl, but I still remembered the shy but very lovely Jenny.My parents, and especially my mother, sensed how I felt about Jenny. As mothers often do, mine must have tucked Jenny's name away wherever they store memories of their children's teenage years. Then, by unlikely chance, one day my mother happened to read the "In memoriam" column in the local paper, and showed me one of its entries...I still remember its words: "In loving memory of Genevieve Sieczka, who passed. When he was done he was a fancy lawyer and had a office right there in town with a big ole sign hangin’ with his name on it and everything. We was all real proud of him.On Saturday mornin’ we'd go in to town and lay up supplies for the month. Me and Tom would run around town lookin’ for places to play and some other boys to play with. If there was enough money left over after payin’ for the supplies we’d get ourselfs some rock candy and sit on the porch of either the general store or Jeremy’s. I couldn’t wait to touch him. From the airport, I thought I’d be a gracious hostess and took him to a classy dimly lit eatery. We took a booth in the back for a private conversation. During dinner I could not help but smile, as I was suppressing all thoughts of ravaging this man . I figure let him eat first then eat him afterwards. I chuckled at this thought. We sat side by side in a booth, our thighs lightly touching. Time ceased to exist, as we ate, spoke, and laughed. It was.