'Once a week?' she enquired, noticing his cock moving against the sheet.'Uh, sometimes more,' he confessed in a shamed whisper. Yeah, a hell of a lot more, thought Helen. More like five times a day to judge from the sticky tissues in his waste bin.'What were you thinking about just now when I came in the door?' No answer. Helen stroked her son's arm soothingly and leaned closer saying in a concerned coaxing voice, 'Were you thinking about me?' Her robe was now open enough at the neck for her son to see both slightly swaying breasts with their hard nipples.'Uh-huh,' Eric half grunted, looking down at the sheets, his face crimson.'Look at me Eric,' Helen said quietly. He didn't move and, taking his chin in her hand, she tilted his face up to hers, noticing how his eyes lingered on her tits, and said in a firmer tone, 'Look at your mother when she's talking to you.' Eric couldn't hold her gaze and as his eyes moved away she tightened her grip. His eyes darted back to hers, a hint of fear. We ordered more drinks and had a couple of interesting hours together in the bar, however without any sexual innuendo whatsoever. Just like three lifelong friends who had just met each other. It got late, and around midnight I decided to call it a night and told them I would be going back to my hotel, the usual bla bla, it had been a long day, meetings again tomorrow, etc. Martina told Paul she also really wanted to go to their hotel, and asked me where I was staying. Our hotels were quite close and we decided to share a cab. Their hotel was first, and when we stopped, Paul and I had the usual argument about who would pay the taxi, I insisted I would as I still had to go for another 10 minutes, Paul insisted as well, and we went back and forth, laughing as we did. Martina also thought it was funny and at a certain moment said that as a compromise I could pay the taxi, if they could offer me a last drink on the road in their hotel room. Not wanting to be a spoil sport, I agreed and.
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