"He's old enough," Karen said. "You just haven't been paying attention."

"But Karen," Susan said, "that would be like fucking your own son. You've known Robert and me for five years. Shame on you."

"What's so shameful about it?" Karen replied, taking one of Susan's cigarettes. "I've considered Tom, too. I mean, look at that kid. He's getting pretty big, and you can bet he's got a nice cock on him."

"You're horrible!"

"Not at all, baby," Karen said, blowing smoke. "Why go hunting when I can have it tight in my own house?"

"You wouldn't," Susan whispered.

"I've certainly thought about it," Karen said, looking at her son. "I saw him just the other day in the shower, and his cock sure looked good to inc. No, I'm not kidding at all… I don't think."

Susan made no reply. She lit a cigarette, noticing her fingers were shaking. Surely Karen wouldn't fuck her own son. But she might fuck Robert. Susan drew a mental picture of her son, his cock very hard, stabbing it into Karen's dark haired cunt. She was surprised at the sudden boiling sensation between her thighs.

She quickly changed the subject. Karen was gazing at her with her dark eyes, eyes that held a strange expression in them. They looked hot, excited, and… Susan wasn't sure. She stood there, holding the unopened bottle of beer, gazing back with her own blue eyes. She felt a shiver ripple through her body, a shiver of anticipation, of desire.

She watched Karen's face come closer, and she felt frozen to the floor. Her legs started to tremble and she felt weak.

Then Karen had her moist, warm lips against hers. Susan whimpered as the woman kissed her, and her eyes closed. She felt Karen's hands caressing up and down her bare arms, and then she fell Karen's arching, pointed tits pressing against her own.

Karen drew back. "Oh, baby, baby!" she murmured softly, looking directly into Susan's eyes. "I've never done anything like this in my life, but somehow I…" And again she closed her lips against Susan's mouth.