Lisa trembled. A few yards in front of her stood Mike.

Mike couldn't see her – he didn't know his mother was anywhere around.

Lisa had come upon her son by accident. She had not followed him from the picnic site deliberately. She had simply taken the same trail he had. Her mind was on other things… cock, cock and her itching cunt.

Her cunt had been itching from the time they started out before noon for the picnic. It had been itching for cock. Lisa loved fucking. She had always loved to fuck. She could no longer remember when she had first felt a beautiful, hard, throbbing cock sliding into her cunt. It was a myth, to her, about a girl or boy always remembering that first fuck.

She couldn't.

She just remembered the ecstasy of a thick prick stretching her pussy, filling it, fucking deeply.

But as much as she loved fucking, she had never been unfaithful to her husband when he was alive. He had been plenty for her. He had kept that burning need between her thighs very well satisfied.

But he wasn't alive now.

He had been dead for over a year.

But Lisa had not been dead.

She had spent a short time in mourning, then turned to other men. Although she enjoyed fucking them, she was always left unsatisfied, as if something was empty inside her. She would come. Lisa always came and easily, the man didn't have to work her up to orgasms. Lisa could come just thinking about a hard cock sliding into her wet, tight cunt. Sometimes she would come sitting in the strangest places, like the dentist's office. Once she thought of a hard cock, dripping and ready, she would come.

She was troubled because she always had that empty feeling after a rousing session of fucking in a motel room with some eager man.