I remember, though vaguely that suddenly my father had walked out of the family and we two; my sister Sylvia Peters and I, Henry Peters were left with...our mom. I remember; almost with same vagueness that my mother was a very social woman. She suddenly made sure that almost all of the 11---12 houses in the street knew, who she was. The neighbors and even some non-neighbors started to visit our home at odd times. The ladies would come and they would sit with my mom in the TV lounge mostly for. The patron entered as an actor—stage-right."Good afternoon, Mr. O'Connor. How are you this day?"The older man deposited his trench coat on a hook mounted on the wall and claimed a barstool. He was overdressed for the bar in a gray suit. Muttonchops framed his round face. His red, wavy hair was thinning and threads of gray were woven throughout what remained."Ah, Boy-o, ye know I need a whiskey. A shot o' Corby's, if ye please—an' a chaser." Been to Dooley's wake? I went early— before I had to. There was no undue pressure. Our cunts almost nuzzled against our thighs until I felt myself tightening and I knew she was too. We clung to each other and that was when, with soft, gentle sighs, we both climaxed together or as close as together as makes no difference. We didn’t stop. It was like we’d found our rhythm and, disengaging a bit, she guided my hand down to her cunt and, when she was satisfied I was deep enough inside her, her lovely, long finger was back inside me and we didn’t kiss. ‘He’s probably out with the guys again,’ the twenty-two year old whispered to herself. Then Maria had an idea. Maybe he was in the bed room right now waiting to get between the sheets. Her heart raced and her red lipsticked mouth flipped into a smile. Maria swished her hair once more and headed towards the bedroom. She took off her heels to make the voyage quieter. The door was closed, and from what she could see from the crack along the floor, the lights were off. Maria took a breath and got.
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