Now my left hand was on my mom’s belly button and my right hand was on her waist, holding her still. She was not telling or feeling anything but jus... calming me.Then I got bolder and moved a step ahead. I stopped talking and slowly kissed her cheeks. I moved my left hand over her right breast and cupped it. She started to sense that something was wrong and I started to squeeze a little.My housewife mom held my hand and was resisting. She was about to get off the bed. But I also got off the bed. The following week I had a few meetings with her, and by Friday the deal was signed and sealed. I had just made a shitload of money, with a promise of much more business in future. Totally elated, I decided to visit my favourite gay bar that evening to celebrate. With my recent hectic schedule, I had not been there in two months. Upon my arrival I encountered an acquaintance I had not seen in a while. We weren’t ever great friends, but always chatted when bumping into one other at the bar. . "Wait here. Martha'll get you something to drink," I told Mercy and then galloped up the back stairs. Missy was all in black and admiring herself in her long, French mirror, fluffing out her cream-colored lace. I stepped behind her and held her by the breasts, kissing her neck.She looked at me in the mirror. "Black becomes me, don't you think?" she said. "Don't muss my hair." Indeed," I said, turning her around and kissing her properly, bending her back and enjoying her tongue. "Course your. I had questioned my mother about the techniques she had used to avoid detection when she had been captured by Phillip and, using her training and some ideas of my own, I had done what I could to protect my 'normal' friends mentally. They each had been programmed with triggers, much like my mother had been when I first realized my powers, except theirs would trigger a shell personality that would give all indications of being meekly under the thrall of whatever telepath was controlling them..
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