“It’s more like… a social contract.”“A what?”“A social contract,” I repeated in Mandarin. “If I’m there they want me to eat the fo...d there.”“Oh,” she said simply. “Seems dumb. They didn’t make the food, some pimply minimum wage-earner did. Peh.” She walked off as if the conversation was over. That was as close as it ever came to understanding with Mother.With her out of the way, I walked over to the living room couch and sat down. “You’re an asshole,” I began with a grin. “My day? Oh, you know.. And she waited.Looking up at her, he knew. She wanted this too.He stood up. They were inches apart and facing each other. Bill's mind was racing. He knew what was about to happen was wrong but he couldn't help himself. Their eyes still held. Slowly he began to lower his head and as he did so he saw her lips trembling as she raised her face to await him.With his lips next to hers, he whispered, "Baby, I don't know. I ... My god, Carrie ... I ... Do you know..."As if to assure her father, Carrie. Abby sat on Brad’s bed then laid her head on his pillow. She looked up at the ceiling, imagining the countless numbers of times they’ll fuck in the future. Brad didn’t waste any time getting his computer up and running in his new bedroom.“It’ll sure be nice having my own bathroom. When Diane and Brenda would come home, I had to practically make an appointment to use the bathroom, plus with Mom and Vicky around,” he joked. “My sisters would tease me by leaving the bathroom door open just enough. I could still feel my tongue inside my mother’s mouth. I could still feel my hands on my mother’s bare boobs. It felt so real, I could not believe it was just a dream. It was so intense, I could still feel her skin rubbing against mine. All I could do was lie on my bed, still in my wet boxers, as I tried recollecting the dream.My mother, in her green cotton nighty, sat on my lap, her face facing mine, and the thin spaghetti straps, on the right side of her nighty, conveniently untied, to have.