Phil sighed, folded his arms behind his head and said nothing. His body was lean and beautifully muscled, naked except for a towel covering his crotch.

Karen knew that in a minute she was going to have to lift that towel to wash his prick, and the prospect both frightened her and made her tremendously horny. Little did her son know how stiff her nipples were, how hot and juicy her pussy felt with its overflow of fuck cream. Deep down inside she knew that she was finally going to give in to the shameful desire of fucking her own boy.

She'd always managed to suppress the wanton craving in the past, venting her incestuous lust with studs like Ricky. But neither of her sons had ever had an injury like this, either.

It happened to Phil the other day in football practice, a muscle spasm in his lumbar erectors that made it impossible for him to walk without intense pain. Such spasms weren't serious, and the team physician had promised that Phil would be back on his feet in a week if he just stayed in bed.

But that meant that Karen had to stay home and do everything for him in the meantime, from bringing him his meals to giving him a sponge bath. It was only noon now, and she knew no one else would be home for many hours. The circumstances were so unavoidably good for her youngest son's seduction.

She continued to wash his body diligently, soaping and rinsing his thighs, chest, arms, shoulders and hard muscular stomach. Then there was nothing to do but lift the edge of the towel. Phil blushed as soon as she touched it.

"I… I think I can do that, Mom," he said, and tried to reach for the washrag. But instantly his face contorted with pain, and he had to let his head fall back to the pillow.

"Don't be such a little warrior, darling," Karen chided, taking the sponge from him.

"You can't move, and that's all there is to it. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I am your mother, you know."