But never on the surface like it was now. Fucking Covid.It dawned on me that she was very much having that effect because of the words I’d just encouraged as suitably the type I need to - complete a scenario.“What if we did it? Phone sex?”I nearly fainted.I swear there were interchanging images of my mom like in some crappy Cinemax soft porn for goobers, “Ohhh Barnabus… would you like to have a real good look at me? These, perhaps?” And my mom would be squeezing her boobs together and plattering them up like Eggs Benedict. What the fuck is going on?Eventually I managed to shake my head out of it.“What did you just say?” Dumbly, I asked her.“Phone sex? Maybe I can not be Me?”Bizarre. Did she not just repeat some version of what I’d thought I heard her say before?“What are you talking about?”“I’m not always a mom. I mean, I could be a voice on the other end of a phone. If you want me to be. Maybe.”While I sat there and thought about it my dick went into overdrive. Bronco Billy.. I heard her promise people cocaine, acid and e with an almost panicked demeanour, and again I felt a protective surge. As I got closer she obviously mistook me for someone she had made such a promise to earlier, yelling at me, “Hold on! I just need to make a few calls, I’ll get it for you.” I opened my mouth to explain but she was already on the phone, explaining to someone why it just wasn’t good enough that he couldn’t bring a couple of tabs round, whether he was at the other side of the country or not.I stood there dumbfounded and a little stoned for what must have been 20 minutes as gradually the room emptied around me and her voice became more shrill and anguished. Eventually she either hung up or was hung up on. Her shoulders and head slumped in fatigue and disappointment, as neither of us realised that we were the only two left in the room. When she recovered from her little argument she looked up at me, puzzled. I realised I has been staring at her face the entire time, and.
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