As I was laughing at some Bostonian who didn’t know who Henry VIII's father was (the most obvious answer is the right one), Virginia trots on in...the door, home from school. We share idle chatter about our day. By now I’m watching the news about a rapist whose sketch bears a striking resemblance to the anchor man, and Virginia says she would like to use the TV. I don’t want to give it up. She lunges at the remote, which then turns into a friendly wrestling match. I’m struggling to get. And from my point of view, we were a normal family and my parents had a normal marriage. A regular suburban household.I don't know when my fascination and lust for my parent started, therefore I like to think it had always been there, smoldering beneath my consciousness since I was born. She wasn't just 'mom', she was a woman, the one woman in my world that I compared all others too - physically, emotionally and mentally. I've never hid my love for her and she had returned it without pause in. My hand slid up to her calf and I was rewarded with a stroke from the riding crop she always kept by her. Kept by her that is whenever she had a male in her charge. On the wall behind her was a big framed picture. It showed Fiona and her sister on each side of a group of six naked men. All the men were posed with full erections and all wore close fitting lycra hoods in the Duchess's racing colours. I knew the hoods were Lycra as I was the one on the left with my number on the side of it. I was. With that we took a few moments to get naked. As he slid his jeans and briefs down in one motion his hard cock sprung free. I must admit to always being impressed by his virility. I laid back on the bed and he climbed on top of me positioning his cock just above my face. I grabbed it and licked up and down the underside and took him into my mouth. He was returning the favor and I was at full attention. She went around to join him and started rubbing my balls.Then sensation was incredible. I.