At the moment she didn't care if someone saw her. She wanted someone to watch her, to see her play with her hot cunt and stroke it and rub it. She wanted someone to see how hot she was, how lewd, how wanton, she felt. She wanted to act on a stage, naked, playing with her slender, but curvy body as men and women watched, getting turned on by her.

She rubbed and twisted at her clit, her hands inside her panties, working a finger of her other hand into her cunt. She bunched her ass on the seat of the car, moaning softly in her self-induced ecstasy. She wanted her son to come back and watch her to see her as she made herself come, to stare at her finger darting in and out of her pussy, watch his cock harden with excitement.

The sudden orgasm exploded around her fingers and she sighed, biting her bottom lip to hold back the scream of rapture.

When her orgasm was over, she stood up weakly, and smoothed the stained skirt over her legs. Slamming the car door, she entered the house. She was disappointed that no one had seen her. Still, it had been exciting to sit there finger-fucking herself, with the possibility of someone walking by and looking at her, or better yet, her son coming back and catching her at it.

Billy was watching television, and a quick glance at the front of his shorts told her he no longer had a hard-on. She stood there at the door between the living room and the kitchen, watching her son.

He confirmed that he knew she was there when he said, not looking up at her but staring at the television, "You're very pretty, too, Mom."

"Too?" she asked. "I don't understand."

"That girl," he said, his voice sounding funny. "You know, where we got the drinks. You're even prettier than she is."