She imagined taking her son's cock into her mouth, feeling the searing head crowding her tongue, the smooth prickhead probing the back of her throat.
Carol had come so many times during the late evening, she had been unable to keep track of the wild delicious convulsions.
She sat on the couch, her feet propped up on the low coffee table. It was not yet noon and she had nothing to do. Roger was in his room, finally getting it cleaned up.
Carol leaned back, letting her mind go through her fantasy of the night before again. She closed her eyes to savor it, to see her mental pictures in full clarity. Her dress was slightly above her knees, and her cunt was beginning to pulsate in that ever-so-delicious way. She felt her clit swell and throb, and then the tip, that sensitive tip, was pressing against the tight crotch of her nylon panties. She twisted her ass slightly on the cushions, making a soft whimper as her cunt burned wetly, her tits becoming tight and full.
She didn't see her son enter the room.
Roger had dressed in a pair of faded, Levi's cut-offs his chest bare. He saw his mother leaning back, her eyes closed. She had her hands resting on the couch near her hips, fingers balled tightly. He gazed at his mother's tits as they rose and fell, then his eyes moved down her body.
He noticed his mother's hips were moving, grinding in a slow manner. She had her feet slightly apart and he gazed at her rounded knees. There was a nice tingle in his young balls, and he wanted desperately to see more of his mother's body.
Moving very quietly, he stood on the other side of the coffee table, leaning down and trying to peer between his mothers knees.
Carol, deep into her fantasy concerning her son, had no idea Roger was there. She moaned softly as her cunt burned, twitched, and parted her feet about a foot.
Roger's eyes blazed as he saw up between his mother's thighs. He looked at the creamy, soft inner flesh then noticed a dark shadow high up. That was her panties, he knew, and her cunt was right there hidden by that thin band of cloth. His cock began to harden inside his cut-offs, and he struggled to hold his increasingly harsh breathing quiet.
Carol opened her feet a little more, and Roger fought hard to be silent. He was now looking at the crotch of his mother's nylon panties clearly, seeing the bulge they made over her pussy. His cock was in full hardness, pressing painfully at his shorts. His balls felt full, loaded, and very hard.
With her eyes still closed, her breathing louder, Carol inched her skirt up her thighs.
Roger stared, hard, not breathing because of his intense excitement. He stood upright now, still able to see between his mother's thighs. His cock pressed outward, outlined in hardness, the swollen, smooth prick head poking just past the stringy fringe, exposing itself. He stared with steaming excitement as his mother pulled her skirt higher and higher. Then he almost gasped aloud before he could stop it. He was staring at her panties fully exposed now.
Carol moved her right hand, crossing over her hip bone, then worked her fingers teasingly downward. Roger's eyes followed his mother's hand, his eyes bulging and hot, his breath caught inside his throat. He saw his mother touch herself between her long thighs, and she rubbed very lightly with the tip of one finger, Carol drew the fingertip up and down the bulge of her panties, tracing the slit of her cunt from bottom to top, her hips arching upward as she moaned in self-induced pleasure. A soft whimper followed the moan, and then she whispered a name.
"Roger!"
At first Roger wasn't sure his mother had used his name, but when she whispered it once more, slightly louder, he heard it distinctly. And while she called out his name, she rubbed her palm up and down her crotch, pressing at her cunt.
Carol was seeing, in her mind, behind her closed eyes, her son's cock, up and very hard, throbbing and dripping. She breathed deeply, her tight tits lifting inside her blouse. She pressed the tip of her middle finger against the tight crotch of her panties, pushing the cloth into her cunt. Roger saw the dark curls of his mother's blonde cunt hair on the sides of her panties and his balls felt a sharp stab of pain.
Carol's eyes fluttered open.
She froze.
She was staring at her son, or rather, at the swollen head of his cock that now poked from the fringe of his shorts. Her finger was inside her cunt to the first knuckle, and she was frozen in this position, lewdly, unable to take her eyes from Roger's prick.
Roger, too, felt immobilized. He knew his mother had opened her eyes, but like her, he couldn't move either. He didn't want to move. His cock jerked up and down, half outside his shorts. His piss hole flared open, dripping a clear liquid.
Carol didn't know what to do.
She couldn't take her hand from her cunt and she couldn't close her eyes, nor could she turn her head. She couldn't stop staring at his cock, her son's cock. She wasn't breathing and for what seemed a long time she was absolutely still with her finger up her cunt.
Then her breath came out in a loud, long hissing sound.
Her hand jerked from her cunt, and she shoved her dress down swiftly, dropping her feet to the floor. She tucked her skirt between her thighs, sitting upright and finally getting her eyes off her son's cock.
But her son, now that the spell was broken, made a giggling sound. He felt his cock was sticking out of his shorts, but he didn't try to stuff it back into them. He stood there, watching his mother. Her knees and half her long, enticing thighs were still showing to him, and that was where he looked.
Young, inquisitive, Roger felt he now had the right to touch his mother. He had seen her touching herself, feeling her own cunt and he felt he could do it too.
He moved around the coffee table and sat next to his mother. Carol felt his hip and thigh against hers. She kept her head turned away from him, her hands clawed shyly in her lap. She still couldn't talk and sat stiff and shaking. In Roger's young mind he felt his mother was tying to tell him something. To his way of thinking, she had shown herself deliberately to him, teasing him, her way of asking him to touch her and feel her up. The fact that she was his mother made it all the more exciting to him. He and his cousin, Ginger, had played around, like boys and girls will, but he had never fucked Ginger. Ginger was willing, very much so, yet was afraid to try.
Roger knew what a cunt looked like. Ginger's cunt was soft and pretty and wet most of the time. He enjoyed touching and feeling, putting his finger in the tight heat. He liked it when Ginger would stroke his hard-on and play with his balls.
Carol felt her son's hand touch her thigh.
She jerked, but remained sitting there, her head still turned away from him. She was blushing furiously, pressing her clasped hands into her lap. She couldn't tell her son to move his hand, couldn't tell him because her throat was dry and constricted and the words wouldn't come. She felt him move his hand from just above her knee up her thigh, to the hem of her hiked-up skirt. When she felt his fingers sliding beneath her skirt, she began to tremble visibly.
Roger pushed his hand underneath his mother's skirt, his cock still sticking out of his shorts. When he couldn't shove his hand any farther because of her hands pressing down, he pulled her hands apart. Carol didn't resist. She couldn't resist.
Again Roger pushed his hand under her skirt. When he shoved his fingers between her thighs, Carol finally made a sound. It was a soft, low whimper. Roger felt the heat of his mother's cunt burning through her panties, then the curls of hair, and paused.
He lifted his other hand, and Carol swallowed when she felt it on her tit. She closed her eyes, her head remaining turned away, pink with shame and expectant ecstasy. Roger squeezed his mother's tit and quickly darted the fingers of his other hand between her thighs. Carol felt his fingertip at her straining clitoris, and her legs, of their own volition, parted.