Wearing a lovely sundress, her feet in low heeled sandals, she started from the bedroom. At the door she paused and frowned. She didn't have a bra on, nor panties. She started to turn back into the room, then a giggle burst from her.

"Fuck it," she whispered.

And she giggled again.

"That's right, fuck it!"

Singing softly, she went to the kitchen and prepared a cup of instant coffee. Karen hated instant coffee, but she didn't want to brew up a full pot and waste it. Brett, she noticed, had left the house.

She felt a mild sense of depression, but it lifted quickly. Sitting in the living room, on the couch where she had seen her son fucking Sally, she drank her coffee and spoke aloud to

herself.

"You damned old beast," she said to her stomach. "I'll show you. I'll have fun, too. You're not going to control me, damn you."

She was sure her cunt quivered.

She thought she could still feel her son's cock inside her cunt, deeply. She felt as if the lips were still stretched about his prick, and, too, she felt his prick throbbing in her. Karen wiggled her ass into the cushion, a smile on her face.

The beast, she realized, was not inside her stomach at all, but there between her long legs. The beast was her cunt. That insatiable, tormenting beast was her pussy. It was her cunt demanding satisfaction, demanding a hard cock, demanding a fuck.

But knowing this didn't help Karen at all. Her happy mood changed and she felt ashamed of herself. Brett would never love her again, never want to see her again, never want to touch her. He wouldn't want to be seen in public with her.

She didn't blame him.

She had acted shamelessly with him. She had exposed her cunt and begged him to fuck her. He was probably with his friends laughing about it now, laughing at her, his own mother. Or with Sally, telling the exquisitely cute girl