I lay with Steven still inside me. From down the hall came the sounds of my son and his girlfriend—Steven’s two closest friends. Their laughter had already turned to stifled moans. “Steven,” I whispered, troubled, “Do they use protection?” “You mean, like we do. Mrs Jamason?” He pushed deeper, so the warmth of his release enveloped my womb. My voice caught. “I mean, when they fuck. Yes.” “We don’t talk about them anymore....

He had seen many naked women before me. Young, tight, beautiful bodies on screens, beyond his reach. I am flesh, his first. Where those girls shave bare, curly dark hair shrouds me, now sticky with his seed. I walk to the window, exposed, vulnerable. Silver streaks mar my hips and belly. Gifts from four children who made me who I am, a MILF. His eyes follow, devour me. I turn to let him see. Not just a picture, but realit...

I beaned him with a pitch on his first at bat in my kitchen. He stole second in the jacuzzi before I could pick him off. A wild throw on his birthday sent him to third base. A line drive up the middle let him score on his graduation night. The rest of the summer, we stopped counting; it was a home run derby.