The next morning he hardly dared to look at his mother. He knew something about her. Something he was too ashamed to even think of. And still he did. ...he thought of his mother engaged in - sex was almost... it was almost revolting! And still. The inner image of her prone on the bed, thighs wide spread and Tom pounding his cock in and out of her... he shied away from the word cunt but the word refused to leave him alone. And she liked it too, judging from her shrieking and randy laughter! To his. My horse was eager for a drink and I was ready to stand and look around for a moment. The flowers in the garden were a mix of many different types. All carefully blended to make a delicate carpet of color that gave off the most tantalizing aroma that you can imagine. The woman worked in her garden with all the pride, skill, and love of a master craftsman. And that's exactly what she was. "Your garden is lovely," I said. She smiled and asked "What brings you to my humble home so far in. Like kissing, plush rose petals. I looked her up and down in my drunk and horny stupor. She was breathing heavily, her neck and collar bone leading to her chest. Perky breasts rose and fell as I leered at them greedily. Her petite frame tightly coiled from my advances. She looked fresh and alive, the exact opposite of the tired woman in the other room. I finally roved back up to her eyes which had a mix of fear and confusion. She saw me staring, and she was unsure of what to do next. So I made. ‘Don’t turn around.’ He told her. She froze where she stood. He stepped in close behind her, breathing in deeply, inhaling her heady scent. His body only centimetres away from her own, he could feel the heat generated between them. He raised his hand and brushed it lightly along her shoulder as he gently took hold of her hair and pushed it to the side, exposing the little purple tattoo on the back of her neck. Rick felt her shiver under his touch. He began to stroke it lightly with his finger.