It had suited them both to pretend that it had never happened, though Eileen could do nothing to erase the memory from her mind. She found that she could hardly look at Hank, who had been standing in as her regular lover ever since her husband had died three years ago, without comparing him to young Jack. Hank did not stand up very well under the comparison but at least he was available. And he was not her son, either. Thus Eileen could admit him into her bed and grind out her hungers against his hard, wiry body without suffering those strong pangs of guilt which she had felt after that episode with Jack.

"Huh?" she blurted out, suddenly realizing that Hank had been talking to her while he was shoving his cock in and out of her cunt. "Oh, yeah, I'm getting there; just keep working it in and out like that. God, you're like a fucking stud-horse tonight! Oh, that cock, it's tearing my cunt apart!"

She sensed from the abrupt tightening of his muscles that he was nearing the bursting point and she hurried to catch up. It wasn't difficult for her to catch up with him since she had an unusual ability to excite herself through dwelling on mental images. She merely concentrated on seeing her son's bulging, lust-swollen prick and felt her cunt and breasts come alive with amazing rapidity. She gave a low, throaty moan and threw herself back at Hank and gripped him tightly between her long, powerful thighs. Many hours spent in the saddle had strengthened her legs' muscles and she could now almost control a man solely through using her legs and leverage.

He groaned as she squeezed her thighs together and forced him out of her cunt until only the head was lodged in the taut, muscle-rimmed opening. "God, you're tearing my cock off!"

"Make it come!" she grunted, weaving her hips in a frantic circle and clenching her stomach muscles to make her cunt grip him even more tightly. "Make it come, damn you! I want to feel you come!"