I became limp under a man. The farm my husband’s grandfather had first sown, had become half sty. Her mother, Mary, allowed her to trade with us, their corn, for our squashes and sometimes a ham. She’s a bad influence, Hory. His cock pulled within and pushed, not moving far however. I entered my home with some reservation. His nose wrinkled at the foul air. Once more, I was torn between escaping my son and helping him. My head hid a plank and my vision spun. Regis yelled, “There was a Yankee in my bed, last night! Inside me, I expected him to begin plundering. His finger sought to replace mine. “You’re smiling, Ma. I guessed my soul was small. We were merely women. My body enveloping his man flesh must have filled his soul with sensation. His body rocked me. Once more, he stiffened, his thrusts ended, and he let the moment linger. “Ma, you let me. When a man spoke, I listened. I bet your mama sucked Yankee cock to get those pigs.
