His head averted out the window now, he raised his drink lazily to his lips and rubbed his hand on his flat, tanned belly, running his fingers carelessly down to the soft dark pubic hair that covered his groin. In another almost lazy movement, he coursed his finger over his softened cock that still looked huge as it was and squeezed it tentatively, then more firmly. She watched the fleshy organ pulse out and grow in his hand, but he let it go, stretching slightly, then settled his hand on his thighs. His mother shuddered nervously and again turned to leave. She decided she better forget telling him about what had gone on, at least right now. But in spite of herself, her eyes remained fixed on his body. They drew her back, lighting on the harmonious lines of his muscled shoulders and arms lying on his stomach and thigh and on the half-erect blood-gorging length of his lusty cock that must have been six inches long in that state alone. He sipped again from his drink and ran his hand over his relaxed thigh in another casual movement that was provocative to Liz. She must leave! She must go! This was her own son, she thought.

Suddenly she began to understand her feelings more clearly in this moment that was mixed with fright and wanton desire. She realized she was attracted to her own son, but still she found no will to exercise, to help her leave the edge of the porch. Kevin lifted up one leg and scratched his knee. The soft sac of his testicles softly cradled on the cushion beneath his slightly flexing asscheeks, and she could see the base of his long thick instrument rise up from the nest of sparse hair surrounding it.

What could she do? Since she couldn't move away, she turned decisively into the room and stood next to the bed. He looked up at her casually as though he were laid out on the couch in the living room in his Sunday suit reading the funnies.