She was about to remove the hairbrush and try to get some sleep when the door sprang open. For a long moment she couldn't even react. Her oldest son, Mike, stood there, his mouth hanging opens his eyes glued to the area between her thighs.

"Mother!" the boy finally, said, flushing beet-red. "I… I thought you… that is, I heard you scream and… and…"

His melodic baritone spluttered to a halt, and he took a step backward, hitting the doorjamb. He swallowed hard, and tore his eyes away from his mother's cunt, and looked at her shocked expression. Again he tried to speak, but only a rattle escaped his lips.

"Mike," Gina finally gasped, "I thought you were out with Betty."

"She… she stood me up," her son replied, feeling ridiculous. Here he was carrying on a conversation with his mother while she lay there naked, and a hairbrush up her cunt! "I… I'm sorry," he added. "I guess I should have knocked."

The thoughts that raced through Gina's mind were more shocking than what had happened. She suddenly saw her son in a new light. He wasn't the baby she had diapered eighteen years ago, not the little boy who came to her with scraped knees. He was a man, a powerfully built, handsome man. No small wonder the girls were all over him. That Betty must be some kind of idiot, she thought. She stood that up?

He was over six feet tall, taller even than his father, and the shock of raven-black hair that curled around his angular face set off the flashing, chocolate-brown eyes to full advantage. Years of football had made his body taut and muscular. Her eyes dropped to the thick bulge in his jeans, and she wondered if he had taken after his father in that department.