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Book 2 Ch. 17 - 25.

Andrew wanted to cry.

"It's all right, my love. There's more. I know there's more. What happened is a sign of your love for me."

She led him to the side of her, no, their bed. She undid the sash of his robe and let the garment fall from his shoulders. Her hands shaking now like his, unbuttoned the pajama jacket and touched his flanks, his belly, his chest. It was so broad and she loved the hair that sprouted across it. While she kissed his nipples, she touched his cock through the satin and felt the cooling dampness that was a sign of his excitement. Despite his release, his cock was still strong, bending upward slightly in its strength and desire.

She undid the tie at his waist, slipped the waist band over his tumescence and let the trousers fall. She went to her knees before her son. She lifted a foot and he raised it so his mother could remove the slipper and the pants. She did the same with his other foot.

Naked for her, Andrew put his hands under his mother's arms and gently lifted. Marilyn didn't rise. Instead, she stayed on her knees, gazing at his cock. Studied the plum-like head that was so smooth just as the rest of his cock was rough. Studied its veins, its ridges, the long scar that ran along the underside from his circumcision.

She blew warm air over his cock.

Andrew's body screamed for her hand, her lips. Marilyn offered him neither, just the caress of her breath as she enjoyed the sight of his cock. She did, however, lift her hands to his belly, felt his six pack, tickled there before rising to his pecs. She tweaked his nipples ever so slightly. Then she teased his navel with the long painted nail of her pinkie. Went back to his chest. Grasped one nipple oh so softly with her nails and rotated it gently. Blew more warmth on his pulsating cock.

He watched her. Finally she touched his cock. But not with her hands. Not with her lips. Marilyn barely grazed the head of his cock with a cheek, leaving a long smear of clear pre-cum to trail across her soft skin. Smiling, she looked up at her son so he could see how he had marked her.

He could also see the deep valley between his mother's boobs. Her nipples pressed against the lace of her negligee. They were hard and dark. Was there ever a more erotic sight? Here was a beautiful woman - his mom! - who loved him and whom he loved, in a sexy nightie that clearly showed her excitation, on her knees, ready to worship his cock.

He wanted to reach down to touch her, yet he didn't. He realized that this was his mother's game for now. Her rules. She would let him know when she was ready for him

Marilyn pursed her lips. She breathed cooler air against his testicles where they pulled tightly against the base of his shaft.

She put one hand on his ass, keeping one free to play with his nipples. Her lower hand pulled his hips forward as if she were going to finally suck him. She didn't suck him. She simply pulled his cock towards her face then let him go back. She did this repeatedly. He fucked the air in front of her. His cock approached her lips so closely he could feel the heat coming from her face.

"Umm, so hard," whispered Marilyn, glancing at her son's face. He was watching her every move, his eyes becoming more desperate.

"So hard for his lover." Pause to breathe on his cock. Tease his nipple "So hard for his mother." Again, breathe. "So fucking hard and ready to explode inside me." Still fucking the air when they both wanted his hot hard flesh to spear the damp furnace she harbored for her son.

His imagination was filled with images of his mother. As she spread herself above him and rode him cowgirl style in the very room. Maybe even in the SUV with the rear seat folded down, like his dad had told him about scoring in the family station wagon at drive-in movies. Or they spooned together and he drove his cock from behind and they could watch themselves in the mirror as they fucked. Or they lazed in front of the fire on the thick rug and he pressed his face to her pussy and she sucked his cock.

"It's what I want, darling.

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