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Starched button-down off white shirts with breast pocket protectors filled with ink pens, sharpened number 2 pencils and a slide rule.They all wore deck-shoes, and that felt odd to me; 55 miles to the ocean and all these academic looking old men are wearing deck shoes.Off in the distance, a bell clanged. Down the street a horn tootled.Like puppets, the locals folded their newspapers, reached under the table, retrieved a white hardhat with some foreign writing fore and numbers aft, stood and filed out the front door of the restaurant.A white school bus type bus stopped at the side steps, the men filed onboard, flashing a wallet badge as they passed the armed driver and took a seat, starting at the back and filling the seats on both sides as the bus idled. The driver stood, picked up a chart, and started checking the seating.When he got to the middle he stopped, gave the two old men seated there a look. He cleared his throatThey jumped up, exchanged seats, and sat back down. The driver. "She froze like a stone."I'm trying to tell you it wasn't your fault. It was mine." No, I was..." I'm going to prove it to you. Right here. Right now." I let my grip relax, and the slightly bloody thistle fell to the floor. I looked into my mother's eyes. They were grayer than the blue I had always attributed to them. They were beautiful."Can you feel this?" I let myself relax and looked deep. My half hard cock jerked. I thought about her lips, how full they were. I thought of them trembling. I thought of her tongue glistening with slick spittle. "Mother can you feel your mouth come alive?"She caught her breath.I imagined her mouth moving closer to the turgid flesh within my trousers. I imagined drool, just a drop, leaking out as she unzipped me with her teeth. I could see her mouth, full like a tulip, embracing my humble stone that prayed upon its pillar.Her tongue pushed out and licked her lips. Mother's pupils turned to pinpoints."Tell me, mother. Tell me." I urged her."No, th-this.
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