"No, Mom, it's true," he insisted. "Can I look at you?"

"All you want," she replied.

Marty opened the top of her dress. Her bra snapped open in front, and she lay with her arms outstretched above her head, watching her son as he learned how to unhook it. Her tits came spilling free, and Marty stared at them with something like awe in his young eyes.

Joan's tits stood up proud and firm, rounded and satiny to the touch. Her nipples, a light-brown color, were still very rigid.

"Can I touch them?" he asked.

"You can touch me anywhere you want, honey," she said in a soft voice. "You can do anything you want with me… anything at all."

Marty began fondling his mother's tits, experimenting by pulling and twisting her sensitive nipples. Joan felt the excitement of her son, and it served to make her excited, too, her cunt beginning to throb and pulsate again. But she stayed still and allowed her youngest son to learn, to probe, to feel and know her body, touching her where he wanted. He gazed closely at her cunt, leaning over and peering between her spread thighs. He felt his mother's cunt, examined her clit, and probed into her pussy. He ran his hands about her smooth thighs, through the thick curls of her cunt hair. He leaned down and swirled his tongue about a nipple, then took it into his lips and sucked. Joan's tits tingled with the wet heat of his mouth.

By the time Marty had satisfied his curiosity, his cock was straining hard, and he wanted to fuck her again. The piss hole was slippery, seeping clear thick fluids.

Joan laughed at his eagerness, pulling him on top of her and wrapping her hot thighs about his hips. His cock was moving into her always-ready cunt.

She had been right – Marty had been more than eager to fuck her.

Now, perhaps, Eric…

CHAPTER THREE