It had seen better days: its lettering -- The Saddam-American Oil Consortium -- could scarcely be read. Everything in the trailer was small and dirty... the knotty pine furniture covered haphazardly with empty screw holes and strange Swedish names. On a "Gooddog" table, on a white plastic cover were seven little plastic plates, and on each plate a little plastic spoon; moreover, there were seven little plastic knives and forks, and seven unopened beer cans. Against the wall stood seven little. She inhaled it in and her breath caught a little in her chest, and she felt her pussy moisten. She quickly lowered her head so Carl couldn't see her blush, and strolled quickly into her room just across the hall. In the privacy of her bedroom she undid her robe and paused. She had a strong desire to masturbate, but she felt a little guilty, with her son right in the next room. What if he heard? In a way she wanted him to hear, wanted him to think of her as a sexual being... She reluctantly. More

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