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Slowly a tracked troop carrier emerged from the gorge, its troops waving back to those by the road. A second then a third, followed by more carriers emerging.Shaun bent over the side of the truck, “Order Bobby’s jeeps to attack, Ken.”He saw Ken muttering into the microphone, before looking back over to the gorge. Five troop carriers were now spread along the road, with the last one that towed the command post just emerging.He focused the glasses on the dip in the road about a mile away; he knew the jeeps would be lined up below that in line astern formation.He saw them slowly appear over the dip, the lead driver of the troop carriers would he knew have a problem making out what it was approaching him through the heat haze thrown up by the road and the dust.Too late he realised his danger as the Jeeps leapt forward, the first opened fire with its 50 calibre machine gun. The armour piercing bullets were tearing through the thin metal sides of the carrier like tissue paper, as each Jeep. If you understand a part of what I wrote above you may be empathetic enough to understand my situation. Then again you may curse me for being a weak willed fool. Or perhaps even the lowest of sluts.Read on and you shall discover the ails of my life.I can not blame my son you see - as we both are tortured by the same desires. Yet in him, there is no pretence at morals or of right and wrong. Given just a moments weakness on my part I doubt it not that he would plunge himself into my body wearing only a content smile of the conquerer.Oh how I longed to see that look upon him.When my son Robert was younger, he and I had a wonderful loving relationship. We were more like pals than a mother and her child. Hugs and kisses were frequent as was innocent wrestling and playing games and toys. We were a family, the two of us - his father having left me before Robert was born.It was the week before my son's sixteenth birthday that our relationship changed. He came home well past midnight and I.
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