Adjusting the crotch of her panties over her cunt, smoothing down her skirt, she left his room. She felt good, better than she had in days. In one way, she had enjoyed a fuck with her son, she felt. Second-hand, but very good, just the same.

It was later, after dinner, when Ted had finished his shower and gone off to bed that Peggy fully understood what she had done, and the strength of her orgasm. She tried to find shame or guilt in her actions, but there was none. As she prepared for bed, she thought how silly she was being. She wondered how many other mothers were going through what she was, if any of them had done what she did. It was kind of stupid, she told herself as she slipped into a gown and then beneath the cool sheets of her bed. Stupid because here she was, wanting what her son had, wanting it badly, finger-fucking herself and fantasizing about him – and all the time her son was in there, pounding on his cock frantically.

Two people, each wanting and needing the same thing, but perhaps in a different way. She needed hard cock because her cunt demanded it, and Ted needed pussy because his juices were hot and young and flowing. He needed some pussy as badly as she needed hard cock, but in a different way. Why did things work so strangely? Why did her son have to hide nad jack off, wanting some pretty girl with a hot cunt, and why did she have to stay in her own room, desperate for cock, almost any cock?

Because, she told herself, mothers don't fuck their sons, you hot-assed bitch!

But Peggy wanted to fuck Ted.

Ted might love it, she told herself. Ted might want the same things she dreamed of, but was unable to experience. Ted might be eager to fuck her. But on the other hand, he might be just like his father.

How could she find out if Ted would fuck her?

CHAPTER TWO

"I just hope you can understand, Peggy," Arlene said as she sipped her coffee.