When she leans in to lay closer to you, she realizes what you’d hoped you could hide: your erection. It’s always been this way, your desire for her. She sits back, apologizing. You try to change the subject. You ask her to tell you a story, the way she used to. She smirks, rolls her eyes. "Aren’t you a little old for that?…Alright then, a story…" She begins her tale…about a queen and her prince, and how lonely the Queen became without her king. How she sought solace and comfort with the prince. In her chambers, one cold night. Your mother is reaching forward, towards your still rock hard cock. She’s massaging you through your jeans, telling you her story as she begins to lose her composure, biting her lips and stroking you…"Please, sweetie, come here…I need you!"