She drew her knees up, resting her chin on them, gazing down at his cock. The way his cock and balls hung out of his open fly excited her. She could see the wetness of her cunt on the cloth of his fly, and smiled to herself. She felt the need for more, satisfied but not satisfied. Fucking her son, coming so hard for the first time in her life without using her own fingers, it was like a door swinging wide-open, inviting her to enter into the world she knew was there, but had never found.

Frank lay on his back, staring up. He wondered if he should stuff his cock and balls back into his pants, or leave them out this way. He just didn't know what his mother wanted him to do. He felt almost ashamed of lying there with his cock soft. He wouldn't feel ashamed if it was hard, he felt. But what could a guy do with a soft cock besides take a piss? Girls liked cocks that wore hard, he figured. And his mother was a girl, wasn't she? Didn't she just fuck him? He wanted to talk to her, ask if he could fuck her again. But he lay still, his young body shaking.

Linda gazed at her son. He wore a T-shirt, but it was halfway up his chest now. She saw his belly button just above the waist of his jeans. But she gazed at his cock and balls more than anything else. His prick was wet with the juices of her cunt, and his balls, looking so small right now, were wet, too. Her palms tingled with the urge to caress them, to feel them. She resisted the urge, understanding her son's sudden shyness.

"Frank," she said, her voice a low whisper. "Did I frighten you?"

For a moment he didn't reply, then he nodded his head. "A little, Mom."

"Are you still frightened?"

"Not very much," he said.

"Do you want to know what made me do that?"

"If you want to tell me," he replied.

"I saw you earlier," Linda told him. "I saw what you and Peggy were doing. I saw your Uncle Brett on the floor, too, watching you."