Marcy twisted her hips, her knees parting, as she strained her convulsing own into Susan's hot hand. Her skin was high on her slim thighs now, almost at her hips. She shot her hand down and placed it on the back of Susan's and pushed hard, very hard. Her clit throbbed in a way she could hardly remember, and the fuck-juices soaked her panties and Susan's palm.

"I'm ready to…"

Marcy gasped, jerking at Susan's hand and shoving her skirt down swiftly. Her face was on fire with embarrassment as she tried to smooth her skirt.

Susan, also gasping, jerked her hand away from Marcy's cunt.

Jerry stood in the hall entrance, staring at them with big eyes, his overnight bag in his hand. He had seen his mother's legs wide open, seen them kissing, and seen Susan's hand pushing against his mother's cunt.

"Oh, God!" Marcy sobbed, burying her face into her hands, shame flooding her from head to toe.

"You're ready to go?" Susan asked him, her voice shaking.

"I guess so," Jerry said in a nervous voice.

Marcy pulled herself together, her hands folded in her lap. Maybe her son had not seen what they had been doing, she told herself. But she could tell by her son's eyes that he had.

"Kiss me, honey," she said, her voice quivering. "And go with your stepmother. Have a good weekend, and don't come back too late Sunday."

CHAPTER TWO

She sat on the couch and watched her son leave with Susan.

Marcy's mind was spinning, and her confusion only made it worse.

Marcy found her son watching her often, his eyes strangely hot.

When he returned late Sunday, she couldn't find the courage to stay up and listen to his weekend activities. All she heard this time was that his father was seldom home while he was there.

The next day, and the following one, Jerry didn't want to go out and play, and Marcy wondered if he was getting ill, or if something had happened over the weekend. She wanted to question him, about Susan, but didn't know how to go about it.