I was sore all over. Every inch of my body ached. My throat was raw and the edges of my lips cracked from being overstretched. I limped slightly and it hurt to remain sitting in the same position for too long, making it nearly impossible to work. The pounding Klay's cock dealt out last night was taking its toll, not helped by the fact I had been kept up, and working hard, all night. Worst of all, however, was the heavy feeling in my stomach. Out from under the direct spell of lust, the guilt was setting in hard. I kept picturing Alvin's face, watching as his mother had debased herself, allowing his worst enemy to use her body for his sexual pleasure. It would be traumatic enough to witness your mother having sex under normal circumstances, but to see her be a cockslave to your tormentor, devoid of thought, chasing pleasure through whatever abuse he dealt out had to be devastating. I couldn't believe what I had done. I was the worst mother. I couldn't do this again. I sat in my office, fidgeting with my phone. I knew what I had to do, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. As much anguish as I wallowed in, physically and mentally, I couldn't help but crave the pleasure I had felt last night. Part of the horrifying memories were the string of body wracking orgasms Klay's cock had driven me too. Finally, I overcame my selfish desire and typed out a quick text.