Finally, much to her relief, she stopped. But Rick kept holding her knees spread apart.

"Ritchy, let me…"

He released her, and she closed her legs. She couldn't look at him now, but she knew he was grinning at her. Getting up, she had trouble smoothing her dress, still trying to do so when she walked out of the kitchen.

Roxie entered her bedroom. She stood in the center of the room, hands wringing as she tried to come to grips with herself.

It had been bad enough last night to lose control and practically rape her son, and then to be so helpless this morning that she had let him fuck her again.

But why she had begun pissing right there in the kitchen as her son watched confused her more than ever.

Removing her clothes, she stepped into her shower and adjusted the water to a stinging spray.

Later, in a fresh sun-dress, she sat on her bed, thinking hard about what had happened, finding no answers.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up, drawing upon every ounce of courage she had. Then she left her room, determined to face her son.

He was in the living room, holding her panties.

"Ritchy," she said in a low, nervous voice, hands folded in front of her body like a shy little girl. "I think you and I have to talk."

Rich held her panties up, grinning at her. "Mom, I didn't know you wore such pretty panties. What are we gonna talk about?"

She trembled. "About what's happened between us."

"If you wanna talk about it, Mom, that's okay with me," he said, dropping the panties on the couch. "But I'd rather do it than talk."

Chapter 3

Roxie wanted to run away. The way her son looked at her was embarrassing. He seemed to stare right through her clothing. He seemed so much different, acting bolder with her than before. But then, she thought, hadn't she just given him that right?