Richard slumped over his mother's body, gasping, struggling to breathe.
Sandy rested her head on the back of the couch, panting. Her body still burned with that delicious feeling and her cunt seemed to retain its grip on his slowly softening cock.
After awhile, she murmured. "Take it out now, darling. Let's go to bed now… together."
CHAPTER THREE
It was almost noon, and Sandy stood on the highest part of the ladder. She was scraping at paint on the garage, getting the building ready for fresh painting.
She wore a dress, deliberately, because her son stood at the base of the ladder, looking up. She wished she had not worn panties because Richard loved to see her cunt, her rounded ass. But she knew that he also liked seeing her in panties. They had gone to bed the night before and spent half of it fucking once again.
It had been decided between them that since neither felt shame, that they had found each other erotic, there would be many ways in which they could excite each other.
It was one of the reasons Sandy was on the ladder now instead of her son. She stood with her feet about half a foot apart, letting him just see the lacy crotch of her panties. Her cunt pulsated, and her mind certainly wasn't on scraping paint. She looked down at her son, grinning, noticing his cock pressing at his jeans.
"You like the view, huh?" she asked.
"It's beautiful, Mom."
"If that bulge in your pants is any indication," she replied, "you can always look under my dress."
She arched her ass back a bit, giving her son a nice look.
"You're getting my panties wet," she giggled. "Can you see?"
He nodded, his eyes bright. "Just getting back at you for making my cock hard," he said.
"Why don't you climb up here and do something about it?"