Two hours later, she was surprised to discover that she had finished reading the book, even though it was still fairly early in the evening. She wasn't tired and the idea of a hot, relaxing bath sounded good so she got undressed hurriedly while the tub was filling with warm water. When they had had the house remodeled, she had ordered a large, square, sunken tub installed in her bathroom and it was the one thing in the house that she considered her very own. She would often relax in the large tub for long periods of time and that evening it was like a security blanket to her. She thought the warm water would dull her senses so that she could sleep peacefully through the night.
Walking back into the bathroom after undressing, Margaret Stover glanced at her naked reflection in the full-length mirror on one wall. She couldn't help comparing her body to the young redhead's body she had seen that same after noon. Margaret guessed the girl must have been around nineteen and she was in her middle forties. Yet, Margaret thought her body was every bit as sexy as the redhead's figure had been. She studied her form in the mirror and was pleased by the fact that she had no fat whatsoever to distort her figure. Her titties were very large and jutting and they were the size of well-rounded melons and still youthful-looking. They stood up pert and proud and she couldn't resist touching the large nipples that capped them like pink berries responding to her touch by hardening slightly. Margaret was quickly reminded again of the obscene spectacle she had seen earlier.
She dropped her hands from her boobies and ran them down the long curve of her waist. Her belly was white and flat and near the lower part was a light covering of black hair that tapered out to the triangle of her fuzzy pussy hair. Margaret turned her back to the mirror and turning to look over her shoulder, she momentarily studied the round shape of her asscheeks. The white moons were like firm globes that stuck out slightly and Margaret was more fascinated by them at that moment than she could ever recall having been. She thought her overall appearance was intoxicating especially since her hair was long and raven and she remembered the girl her son was fucking had long hair also. The girl had looked really sensuous and Margaret wondered if it hadn't been because of the girl's slave-like bent-over position. She spread her legs apart and bending over, looked back between her legs at her reflection. Her position caused the mounds of her asscheeks to spread apart slightly and she could see the pink hairless area of her tight puckered shithole. Just below it were the sparse, hair-covered lips of her cunt and Margaret could clearly see the drops of moisture formed at the opening of her fuckhole. The thought of a long prick driving into her pussy while a finger worked in her asshole flashed into her mind and Margaret quickly straightened up and crossed the floor to the Roman tub. It was nearly filled with water and she reached to turn off the valves while she tried once more to put the obscene images out of her mind.
Stepping down into the warm water, Margaret stood still for a moment then slowly lowered herself into the clear water until only her head remained above the surface. The warm water surrounding her body did not dull her senses as she had anticipated but rather it made her more aware of all her sexual parts. She looked at the triangle of semidarkness formed by her black pussy hair through the moving water and it seemed to dance seductively before her eyes, her hand moved toward the blue-black hair and she ran her \ fingers across the surface of her awakened cunt. It had been over a year since she had ever given fucking a passing thought, but what she had watched this afternoon at the cocktail lounge had set off something in her twat that she didn't realize existed until then. It was like a flash of heat through the pit of her womb and the hot, itchy feeling refused to depart.
Very gently, Margaret pressed her finger into the hair-lined screw box formed by the lips of her pussy and she felt the electric sensation jolt through her gash as she had that afternoon when her finger had touched her excited love button. She had never known that the little clitty could be so sensitive or give her so much pleasure. If the lewd spectacle she had witnessed had been between someone other than her son, Margaret probably would have recoiled at the sheer obscenity of the act but she couldn't equate anything her son did with lasciviousness. The obvious enjoyment of their fuck sessions made Margaret feel that she must have been missing something even though she had always taken fucking lightly in the past. Her body was responsive to her own touch and she saw no reason why it shouldn't respond even more to someone else. She couldn't consciously admit to herself that the someone else she was thinking about might be her own flesh and blood, Brett, Junior.
Continuing the massaging of her excited nerve nub in the soft hair-lined folds of her cunny with more vigorous strokes, Margaret felt the burning in her pussy grow more and more intense. The moistened walls of her raging cunt seemed to be tingling out a message to her brain that begged for a fleshy fuckstick to be screwed up through them. Her mind seemed to become somehow a part of the pink twat flesh between her inner thighs and the urgent need to be fulfilled became overwhelming. In her mind's eye she was seeing Brett, Junior's passion-hardened prick fucking in and out of the redhead's wet cunt and her finger almost instinctively moved down to the opening of her newly discovered fuckhole. Margaret pushed her middle finger up inside the tight, seldom screwed channel down between her thighs until she was unable to reach further and it felt good, but not good enough. Frustrated, Margaret added another finger and she gradually began to finger-fuck them both in and out of her flooding pussy. It did nothing but stir up the fire in her panting cunt to greater intensity and she was maddened by not being able to reach the mysterious orgasm she had seen the redhead attain beneath the plowing prick of her son that afternoon at the bar.
Keeping the two fingers of her right hand in her gently clasping fuckhole, Margaret tested the nail of her left-hand forefinger against her thumb. It was softened by the warm water of the bath and she moved her hand under the firm globe of her asscheeks. She drew her legs up bending her knees so that she could have greater access to the space between her inner thighs and pulling the crevice of her white ass apart she probed her left forefinger against the tight restricting ring of her shithole.
The warm water surrounding her slender finger made the entry easier than she had expected it to be and she slowly worked her finger into her tight, clasping asshole. It was slightly painful at first, but after a moment, Margaret became excited by the perverted presence of her finger in her ass. She pushed it in to the second knuckle and she was surprised that she could feel her other fingers in her pussy through the thin partition of flesh which separated the two fuck passages. Still recalling the furious screwing she had witnessed earlier, Margaret began to finger-fuck herself with mutual rhythms in her two fuckholes. The unnatural presence of her finger in her pooper seemed to heighten the effect of the fucking fingers in her pussy and she worked them ferociously in an attempt to stop the burning itchiness in her cunt.
Andrew Hewitt had been thinking about Margaret Stover a great deal since he had learned the night before that Brett Stover, Sr. didn't care a fig about her. Andrew thought that Margaret was not only physically attractive, but sexually appealing as well. He couldn't help wondering if she were really as frigid as Stover had implied. So when he left Margaret's husband alone with his daughter-in-law, he decided to find Margaret himself and talk to her at least, to find out personally about her. He reasoned that since her husband wasn't interested in Margaret, he should have no serious objections to it if he did a little personal research into Margaret Stover. It should not endanger his job in the least. Then too, Andrew figured that Brett Stover was in no position to object, considering just what he was doing with his own son's young wife at this very moment.