my-son-became-my-husband-fuckedstory

Mom and son find the truth

“I can’t tell you,” Gail whispered. Gail paced faster, then faster across my kitchen floor. “Then don’t,” I laughed and pretended to get up from the kitchenette. “Sit right back down there, Miss Cynthia, Cyndy Ghaworski!” she whispered. “Why the whispering?” I used a mock loud whisper. This had to be serious. She never used my full name. AND—she never, ever used my maiden name. I could think of only a handful of times she had done so since we were small girls in elementary school. “I can’t … I can’t tell you.” “THAT, you already said,” I countered, I…