a new piece to my mothers
puzzle....
rather frank and bewildering conversations.

this one regarding ***...
one will admit....
very disconcerting over a breakfast of muesli and cheerio's

her  " your father enjoyed ***, me not as much, i often
just lay there and let him get on with it...it was over quickly enough"

me  reeling internally,
you must understand my mother, the epitome of the straitlaced woman,
sent me to the doctor,
with a group of my peers for 'the talk'.

"oh, um...did you see the whales"

her  " he never forced me tho, he was polite not just any good at it all fumbling and grunting...i don't think
i orgasmed once"

me   * dumbstruck

her*  " after he left, i only had *** once more,
it was so much better...
it was as much about me,
as him.
i orgasmed then...
it was nice.....
but he was married."

me .... who?

her " i suppose it doesn't matter now.
mr clement, bob,
he used to bring the rabbits
and vegies from the farm.

me  "oh.... him" remembering a short statured,  swarthy man
with a kind nature...
and big hands

her  "after that...
i did for myself,
much easier allround..
*** is important in a marriage....good for communicating.
you and ben,
seem to do alright .......

me  " thanks for breakky
mum must get on."

i am so very sure,
i don't want to discuss
my sexlife, as good and rich as it may be.....
with my up till now, prudish
85 year old mother...

even if she,
finally,
wants to talk to me,
about ***..

just way too....disconcerting.