Sheila buried her fingers in the folds of her juicy cunt, moving them inside herself as she writhed in lusty heat. She imagined feeling Terry's nervous yet eager lips grazing the lips of her pussy. She imagined reaching between her lithe legs and spreading her cunt open for him, imagined herself leaning backwards and opening her dripping pussy for her young son. She imagined his eyes when he looked up at her in amazement. She imagined putting her warm hand on his head and moving his face closer and closer to her downy twat.
Sheila could feel her son's tongue moving against the sensitive lips of her tasty twat, could feel the boy's hot breath against her love-mound.
It was as if her son were with her in the shower as she played with the lips of her cunt, bringing herself closer and closer to a mind-bending flash of liquid fulfillment. She imagined her son's hands on her naked tits as he reached up from his kneeling position and felt her tits, felt the very tits that had nourished him.
Sheila imagined her son licking wildly at her cunt, imagined his tongue working fast and furiously between the gaping lips of her hot pussy. She imagined him chewing gently but greedily on the hot wet flesh of her excited twat.
Sheila's dripping cunt tingled and burned with lusty fire, a fire that could not be extinguished even by the cascades of water that still ran down between her legs. She imagined her son rising at her command and inserting his arching erection between the lips of her musky twat. She imagined his cock in her cunt, imagined it splitting her belly with its enormous size. She imagined the hard blood-filled cock sawing in and out of her cunt, imagined it moving faster and faster the hornier her son became.
The hot-assed woman could feel her twat moistening as her imagination ran away with her. Her sucking cunt grabbed the fingers that she had stuffed inside it. By now she had inserted her entire hand into her pussy.
She made a fist inside her cunt-hole and twisted her hand inside her. She gasped when she felt her knuckles rubbing against her inner flesh, driving her wilder and wilder. Tingling, tugging, surging sensations flooded her quivering cunt.
The image of her son was so real, so warm, so full of life that it was as if her twat were tightening around a real cock, a cock as thick as her wrist, a cock with a bulging head as big as her fist.
Imagining her son fucking her with a passion, Sheila began jabbing her fist in and out of her cunt, kindling a raging fire between her silken thighs. Her cunt slurped noisily as she fist-fucked herself. She knew that she could make herself go off wildly at any second.
But it was not enough somehow. It was not enough to bring herself off by masturbation now that she had experienced a real fucking and sucking again after going without it for three years. Her cunt still ached from the wild fucking she had had in the theater.
Her body still remembered the painful experience. And yet the experience had taught her that it was real fucking that she needed. She was almost grateful to the rapists for bringing her so shockingly back to the real world of hot fucking. There would be no more sterile masturbation for her. Nothing could satisfy her now but the son she loved.
She had to have him and she had to have him now. She would act while her cunt was still hot for him. She would act in spite of the taboo of her lust. Nothing was beyond her now.
Pulling her hand out of her pussy with a loud slurp, Sheila left the shower and dried her naked body. Teetering on the brink of a cunt-melting orgasm, the horny woman tiptoed down the hall toward her sixteen-year-old boy's room, her brain filled with images of fucking and sucking.
The light was off in Terry's room. She hoped he was asleep. As she stood outside his room, she realized that she had no idea in the world how to approach her son. She also realized now that she had no choice but to try, no matter how depraved her act would be, no matter how uncertain the outcome.
Sheila trembled when she put her hand on the doorknob and pushed it open ever so quietly. Terry was sleeping soundly, and no wonder. When she remembered that the boy had probably been fucking Wendy all night, Sheila's heart skipped a beat.
It was no wonder that the boy looked so smooth and quiet as he lay there bathed in the moonlight that filtered in through his open window. Terry's night of fucking had not been nearly as exhausting as Sheila's. And yet she still burned with a sex-fire that kept her wide awake and sensitive to every sensation, every sound, every scent, every sight.
She drifted to the side of the boy's bed and looked down at him.
She was overcome with love and passion for her long-neglected son. He was so handsome lying there, his naked body covered only by a thin white sheet. He lay on his back, his sheet down around his waist, his chest and arms exposed to her admiring gaze. She had never had the opportunity to look at her son so closely before, at least not in the years since he had developed into young manhood.
The horny mother feasted her eyes on the boy's youthful body, drinking in the smoothness of his swelling muscles, the rippling muscles of his hard stomach, the look of peace on his boyish face. He looked so innocent lying there that it was hard for Sheila to believe that only hours before he was fucking Wendy like the young stud he really was.
Sheila stood there in her son's room and stared at him with fucking and sucking on her mind. Her cunt was damp with dew, damp with feminine passion. She had to touch him.
She bent toward him silently, her full luscious tits jiggling slightly. She reached out, and her warm hand grazed his tiny brown nipples. Her hand dropped lightly on the muscles of his chest.
She dared to let her exploring hand travel down over his chest to his smooth stomach. She shivered when she traced a circle around his navel. She thrilled to the feel of the slight sprinkling of hair that grew just below his belly button and grew slightly thicker until it disappeared beneath his sheet.
Wild inside, Sheila's fingers sneaked beneath her son's sheet. She trembled when she felt the warm flesh of his lower belly, trembled still more when she felt him stir slightly. She dared not wake him. What would he think of her if he caught her feeling him up? She was his mother, not his girl friend! It would be too great a shock for the boy.
She drew her hand away quickly and started to leave the room, her heart racing wildly.
She was about to leave the room when something drew her back. Terry's flesh was too warm to resist. He was much too young and handsome. She couldn't simply walk away from him now, couldn't give up her depraved plan.
She almost ran to the side of the bed, falling to her knees and hoping beyond hope that he would remain blissfully unaware of the terrible things she was about to do to him.
Holding her breath, Sheila drew the sheet down over Terry's sleeping body, exposing more and more of his naked body. She sucked in her breath when she saw the nest of his sex-hair. She gasped when she saw the thick root of his prick. She dropped the sheet around his naked tanned thighs when she saw the full length of his prick.
It was even bigger than it had looked on the beach through her binoculars, even more beautiful. It was no wonder, she thought, that Wendy ate his cock up so greedily. She had to touch his prick! But did she dare? Did she dare touch her own son's naked dick? Surely he would wake up. And if he did wake up, what could she possibly say or do?