I sat across from him, listening and watching.
Assessing.
My oldest had grown from a six-pound, eleven-ounce newborn into a six-foot and “more to go” man-child. His uni-brow needed maintenance. There was a shadow of hair under his bottom lip and above his upper.
His hands engulfed mine as he held them. He looked at me with those thickly-lashed brown eyes, twinkling and pleading.
“Mom, that’s not sex!” said my fifteen-year old son with exasperation.
Really? Why would oral sex, something seen as so intimate, almost more so than sexual intercourse in my own and earlier generations, be seen so casually by my son’s?