Slowly, Marilyn lay back on the carpet, looking up at her son with smoldering eyes. She spread her legs wide, holding her arms up for him.But Donny di...n't go into them right away. He was staring between his mother's thighs, seeing her pink, wet cunt lips through the dark curls. His cock was jerking about and, with a low groan, he fell into his mother's arms.Marilyn pulled her son on top of her, feeling his hard cock brushing her thighs. She moved and twisted her hips until she felt the swollen. She seemed invisible to the delegates whose gobletsshe filled with wine. I watched her a little. She was a woman, but youngstill, a score years old at most. I surveyed the way the waves in herlong blond hair raised and fell as she served each guest. She was apretty girl flowering with youth but somehow she seemed sad. I wonderedabout her, what her story might be. What had brought sadness in to thisyoung life? Perhaps she had lost a loved one? Perhaps I had sent a lovedone into a futile battle. More

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