And, Marcy felt as if her son was looking right through her clothing, seeing her naked, stripped bare. Usually, after her bath at night, she would wrap herself in a robe before going to bed, but now she bathed and jumped into bed without seeing her son.

She was in bed now, and Jerry came to her door. He stood there looking in at her. Marcy was propped up in bed, a book open. She enjoyed reading herself to sleep at night. She looked up at her son, and Jerry shuffled his feet, apparently not knowing how to approach her. Marcy had always tucked him into bed before, kissing his forehead before she retired. But for the past two nights, she had not.

"Mother, why don't you fuck me in anymore?" Jerry asked, looking as if he was about to cry.

Affection for her son filled her, and she closed her book. Patting the side of her bed, she said softly, "I'm sorry, baby. I guess I've got a lot on my mind lately. Come in and sit down for a while, okay?"

Jerry came over and sat on the edge of her bed. His hair was still damp from his shower. He wore his robe, belted at the waist, but it opened over his young, muscular thighs. Marcy found herself fighting to keep from looking at them. There was a quivering in her stomach similar to the thrill she had felt, with Susan.

"Want to tell me about your weekend?" she urged softly.

Jerry was turning to face her, his eyes falling on his mother's titties. At first Marcy didn't know why, and then she discovered the sheet had slipped down, and although she wore a gown, the brown pucker of her stiff nipple showed through the lace. With a flush on her face, she pulled the sheet to her chin.

"I don't wanna visit with Dad anymore," he said.

"But why not, honey?"

"He's never home, and he breaks his promises with me."