Tommy frigged up and down on his cock shaft, his grip light, his palm just skimming on the tube. His balls lay heavy in his other upright palm. But despite the huge load he had built up, the youth seemed in no desperate hurry to drain it off. Jenny supposed that her son was a young man who enjoyed his hand-jobs and liked to linger over them.

His handsome face was twisted into a grimace, eyes squinting, lips drawn back from his square white teeth. He was concentrating on the task at hand, rather like a diamond cutter about to strike a valuable stone.

As her fist brushed up and down, he humped, his ass pumping in and out so that he was fucking through his hand. His balls swung out below his cock-stalk when he released them.

He pulled up to his cock-head and, squeezing the shaft, rubbed the edge of his thumb against the sensitive point where his fat knob flared out from his prick.

When he tightened his grip and began to frig himself more vigorously but still restraining himself and keeping to the slow, steady rhythm that would make it last.

As his hand drew up his cock-stalk, his foreskin rolled over the ledge of his cock-head like a fleshy carpet and as he pumped back toward his balls, he skinned that meaty slab out, unsheathed and throbbing.

His cock-head was pulsing in and out.

Jenny was squirming with unbridled desire as she stared through the spy glass, yearning for that hard, hot teenaged cock-meat. Her mind was an incestuous inferno and her imagination was working overtime.

It would be too embarrassing to simply approach him for he was, after all, her son.

The depraved woman was searching for ways to satisfy he taboo passions in some secret fashion, forming schemes for the seduction of her son devious designs that would fulfill her frenzied longing without revealing her identity. She toyed with the idea of a disguise and played with plans of a heated encounter in total darkness.