After a moment Jerry lifted his cock from his mother's cunt, sliding off her bed. Marcy peeked, catching a glimpse of her son's cock before he closed his robe around it. It was wet, soft, with a few strands of curly hair. His balls seemed to hang very low, much lower than she would have thought on a young boy. His cock was wet with her cunt-juices, and she felt a catch in her throat as she saw it.
Jerry said nothing, turning his back to her and walking out of her room, not rushing, as if he expected her to call him back.
After he was gone, Marcy curled up in a ball, her knees drawn to her tits, feeling his come-juice seeping from her pussy, and began to cry softly.
CHAPTER THREE
Marcy tried to avoid her son for the next few days, but that was impossible.
Jerry didn't leave the house, and almost everywhere she was, so was he, looking at her. When she would turn, she would catch his eyes on her body before he turned his head away.
Filled with embarrassment, Marcy tried to analyze what had happened, trying to understand why she had allowed her son to fuck her, why Jerry had even wanted to fuck her, his mother. She found no answers. Her response to him had surprised her as much as letting him fuck her.
Marcy dressed in ways that concealed her body, not wanting to tempt her son into a hard-on. But it did no good. She noticed his cock bulging almost constantly. She wondered if he was jerking it off, thinking about how it had felt inside her cunt, fucking her. For the first time in her life, Marcy was thinking about sex almost day and night. It was new to her, all these thoughts of hard cock and her wet cunt, how it had felt with her son's cock in her cunt. And, to her horror, she was thinking in just those terms… cock, cunt, pussy, fuck and prick.
If being embarrassed about fucking her son wasn't enough to torment her, Susan had started calling her often. Susan never used to call her at all, except to say when she would pick up Jerry for his weekend visits.