Carol didn't know what to do.

She couldn't take her hand from her cunt and she couldn't close her eyes, nor could she turn her head. She couldn't stop staring at his cock, her son's cock. She wasn't breathing and for what seemed a long time she was absolutely still with her finger up her cunt.

Then her breath came out in a loud, long hissing sound.

Her hand jerked from her cunt, and she shoved her dress down swiftly, dropping her feet to the floor. She tucked her skirt between her thighs, sitting upright and finally getting her eyes off her son's cock.

But her son, now that the spell was broken, made a giggling sound. He felt his cock was sticking out of his shorts, but he didn't try to stuff it back into them. He stood there, watching his mother. Her knees and half her long, enticing thighs were still showing to him, and that was where he looked.

Young, inquisitive, Roger felt he now had the right to touch his mother. He had seen her touching herself, feeling her own cunt and he felt he could do it too.

He moved around the coffee table and sat next to his mother. Carol felt his hip and thigh against hers. She kept her head turned away from him, her hands clawed shyly in her lap. She still couldn't talk and sat stiff and shaking. In Roger's young mind he felt his mother was tying to tell him something. To his way of thinking, she had shown herself deliberately to him, teasing him, her way of asking him to touch her and feel her up. The fact that she was his mother made it all the more exciting to him. He and his cousin, Ginger, had played around, like boys and girls will, but he had never fucked Ginger. Ginger was willing, very much so, yet was afraid to try.

Roger knew what a cunt looked like. Ginger's cunt was soft and pretty and wet most of the time. He enjoyed touching and feeling, putting his finger in the tight heat. He liked it when Ginger would stroke his hard-on and play with his balls.