Well, in a way, I don't care. I know it's the truth and whether you believe it or not doesn't make any difference to me. All I can say is I know my mo...her and you don't.Looking back to when it happened, I was a real tease, I mean, boy-tease, cock-tease. When my boobs started to develop around ten, making little mounds with nice, pink nipples on top, I would stand countless hours in front of my full-length mirror looking at them as I rubbed them and pinched my nipples to make them grow.I would. Everyone kept telling him that he could make a lot more money if he started making his own wine, but he didn't want the hassle. His favorite time was winter when there wasn't much to do. I'd come home on the school bus from Healdsburg of an afternoon, and he would be sitting on the front porch fidgeting with one of his ever present briar pipes and gazing over the vineyards at peace with life and with himself. He neither needed nor wanted the added complexity (and inherent laws!) of owning a. As he moved I caught a glimpse of what looked like a knife in his right hand."You are bleeding!" I heard my mother's voice. I looked up at the man's face and saw dark bloody trail from his forehead down to his lip and chin. His collar was drenched in blood too.Mom took a step and the man raised the knife to intimidate her."Its ok" my mother whispered. "I am a nurse". She moved towards him again and put her hand on his face."Don't try anything funny bitch." the man snarled pulling back. " or the. 'I get this lovely warm feeling. I feel a great ache for you between my legs.'What could a guy do. I stood and moved to where she sat. I bent down and kissed her. Her lips stuck to mine like a magnet as I massaged an ample breast through the fabric of her dress.I could feel her nipple getting hard. Taking her hand I pulled her to her feet and, kissing her again, I raised the hem of her dress and slipped my fingers under the gusset of her panties. Pushing my fingers into her slit I.