The scent of his hair on the pillow, the smell of sweat and skin on the sheets, the tinge of his essence on her own body, it was enough to drive anyon... out of their mind. Would she see him again? She was sure there would be another time. The torment of the whole mystery was that she could never really tell him goodbye. In his presence she had to be cold-hearted. It was self-preservation. He never took her seriously, he just expected her to always be there. It was enough to make her feel hollow. He watched his mother began to buck and gyrate in the harness. His eyes fastened on hers and he began to stroke himself again. Beverly found she couldn’t look away, and she saw, with horror and far too much pleasure mixed with it, that Jim’s strokes and thrusts were matching her cries and bucks. She felt her orgasm approaching and cried out for her son to look away, to stop, to please just stop. He did not. As Beverly reached her summit, so did Jim, and as she came she felt his come hit her. More

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