When I got to the kitchen, she was there, her back turned to me, cleaning one of the kitchen counters with a sponge. She was bent over only a little, but it was enough to show off a lot of the back of her thighs. I felt the familiar pressure in my pants as my excitement grew.

I put the empty tray and plates on the kitchen island and kept walking toward mom. She didn't turn to me; she seemed intent on what she was doing. I was aware of my chest rising and falling with sharp, short breaths; my body shivered with an overwhelming sense of need and purpose....