With that, she drew back and sat down in her chair, leaving Elliott thoroughly befuddled, and with his stiffening cock pressing against his jeans.

"Would you be a dear and dish the food up, sweetie? I'm still pretty sore." His mother nodded towards her midsection as she tenderly rubbed her stomach.

"Sure, Mom." Elliott rose from his seat and did as his mother asked. He spooned the stew into a couple of bowls and brought them to the table. "Would you like something to drink?"

"A glass of milk would be nice. My throat's still a little raw too," his mother replied, her brightly-painted fingernails tracing along the smooth skin...