I press my head against my mother"s shoulder, and hold her tightly as my young aching body heaves and suddenly shoots the sperm with frightening power...into her. But I feel my mother"s soft, heavy breasts against my chest and her strong, slender thighs around me and I know I"m safe. So is my sperm in her womb where the first, thick, pearly-white jet of it now wetly splatters, making her shudder.It feels like coming back home under the glorious shining light of the mysterious moon...Mom is. .. well its just the old ‘in-n-out’. It’s like riding a bike, once you’ve mastered how to ride a bike you can hop on a Harley, a Ducati, or a Honda and ride (pardon the pun) with at least a modicum of satisfaction regardless of the make and model of your ride. Women and men’s physical parts fit together in a fairly finite number of ways. Tab A into slot B and so on. The unique, ever-changing, and ever-challenging part to our coming together (pardon the pun) isn’t the physical - it’s the mental.. I could smell my fear. I could feel some part of my dying because I knew I was a fag now. I felt confused. That more than anything else, and guilty. All the anger I'd felt towards those three bullies had turned to guilt somehow, because part of me knew I hadn't tried hard enough to get away. I hadn't fought hard enough. I'd given in too easily, like a real fag would.And then I swallowed my first real mouthful of cum. I didn't plan to, it just happened. Like bad luck or good timing. I had to. She must have ordered something, but this was like getting a surprise present she grinned happily. The plain white box was about the size of a cigar box, and she frowned looking for a label of some sort to show where it had come from. Sliding the lid off the box, she found a card and a sheet of glow in the dark stickers in the shape of stars. She remembered having some when she was a little girl. Her father had fashioned them into constellations for her that told of her favourite fairy tales..