("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
Jessica's Mom - 1
by Cathy (razzmatazz454@yahoo.com)
***
Tom's single-mother girlfriend tells him that her ten
year old daughter was spying on them the night before.
Their reactions to this are explored. (MF/f, ped, inc,
voy)
***
Chapter 1 - The Restaurant
"I know she was watching us," Cathy said quietly as I
reached across the table and filled her glass with
wine. It was a Red Zinfandel – Ravenswood Vinter's
Blend – and complimented our Italian meal perfectly.
The restaurant we had chosen was one of our favorites.
Not only because the food was incredible and the price
reasonable – but because the atmosphere was both
romantic and quiet. The tables were spread out and
provided privacy for intimate little conversations. Our
conversations here were always intimate and sexual. The
food – the wine – the conversation – it was all a kind
of sensual foreplay.
Cathy and I had been together for almost six months
now. Our sex was incredible – not only because of our
mutual obsession with it, but because we had been able
to share our deepest, most secret desires and fantasies
with each other. The "she" Cathy was talking about was
her ten year-old daughter, Jessica.
Jessica was an energetic, charismatic, flirtatious
cutie with long auburn hair and a mischievous grin. I
had grown very fond of Jessica in the time we'd been
together, and Cathy seemed to enjoy watching our
father/daughter-like relationship grow.
"She was watching us? What makes you think so?" I
asked, recalling the previous night's lovemaking. It
had started out as watching TV after Jessica had gone
to bed. Her bedroom connects to the family room, where
we happened to be, but we kept the volume turned down
low so as not to disturb her. Normally, we would have
watched TV from Cathy's bedroom. But not last night.
We'd started getting frisky, and one thing lead to
another, until Cathy pulled me by the hand, down onto
the carpeted floor. It was so kinky to slowly take each
other's clothes off under the soft illumination of the
TV, trying to be as quiet as possible, being sneaky
like teenagers trying not to get caught, in plain sight
of her daughter's bedroom door. The risk of being
discovered added a certain sexy tension to it all. I
wasn't positive we were really going to take it all the
way until Cathy pulled my underwear down and off my
legs, then leaned forward with a smile, to take me into
her mouth.
I ended up lying on my back with Cathy riding my cock.
I love that position, being able to reach up and
fondler her breasts, rolling her erect nipples in my
fingers (which drives her crazy) and then suckle them
while she leans over me. The feeling of my cock sliding
in and out of her juicy pussy while my mouth sucks on
her nipple like a baby suckling his mother – it never
fails to bring me to an intense orgasm. Cathy knows
this, by the way. She also knows about my incestuous
fantasies – and even likes to play along sometimes.
Often as I'm sucking on her nipple, thrusting my cock
violently upward into her, she'll whisper things like
"That's it baby – fuck Mommy – fuck your Mommy nice and
hard." Of course, she knows that this will immediately
send me over the edge. She tends to do it just as she's
ready to climax and we have these amazing simultaneous
orgasms.
The previous night, however, she had not done this. I
remember thinking that she was sitting up on my cock
much higher than usual – which was fine by me. I just
wanted her to enjoy herself. And as I played with her
nipples, she ground her pussy hard against me, closed
her eyes, and moaned out loud.
Then she leaned back with a shudder and grasped my
thighs behind her. I slid my hands to her waist, to
help guide her rhythm. She threw her long hair back,
thrusting her chest out into the air, and rode me with
an almost trance-like concentration. It was wild. Her
pelvis pumped against me in wide sweeping arcs until
she had this amazingly intense climax, trembling and
quaking in a way I had never seen, swept away with
particularly frenzied passion. And now I was about to
find out the reason why.
"I saw her watching us," Cathy said, looking at me
intensely.
I took a deep drink of the Zinfandel.
"I looked over at the door of her room and it was
cracked open. It was dark, but Tom, I saw her. She was
watching."
"Really?" I said with keen interest. "You mean, like,
right in the middle of… while were making love?" I felt
an immediate stirring in my pants. Her ten year old
daughter had been watching us fuck. For real. Holy
shit.
"Yes." She said, looking down at her wine.
"Hmm. Well, how do you feel about that?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure." She fidgeted in her seat
a bit. I could tell she was a little embarrassed to
tell me about it. But also excited. She must have some
seriously mixed feelings, I thought. On the one hand,
it had obviously turned her on. A lot. But on the other
hand, she wanted to be protective of her daughter,
wanting to provide a wholesome and healthy image for
her.
Heck, for the first two months of our relationship, she
wouldn't even let me hold her hand or kiss good night
when Jessica was around. And I knew that she had gone
to great lengths to conceal the fact that she was
sexually active during the two years before we met,
following her divorce; never letting any man show
physical affection of any kind in front of Jessica, or
letting on they were more that just 'friends'. She once
even told me she'd even made a man climb out the window
when Jessica knocked on her bedroom door late at night,
rather than get 'caught' with him there.
I was the first man she let her daughter think of as
her 'boyfriend' following her divorce; the first man
she'd kiss in front of Jessica; the first man to openly
spend the night. She wanted to be a good, upstanding
example for her daughter. A neat and orderly house.
Active in the girl scouts. Clean and folded towels.
Church every Sunday. Involvement in the P.T.A.
But as protective as she was, once I officially became
her 'boyfriend' there was this strange element of risk-
taking that Cathy sometimes seemed to gravitate toward.
Twice, we'd had sex on the living room sofa after
Jessica had gone to bed, and once on the kitchen
counter when she could easily have gotten up for a
glass of milk or something, and walked right in on us.
Another time, when camping, she started sucking me off
in the tent, excitedly having to hurry because Jessica
was due to return from her stroll at any moment. And
there were several times she began teasingly fiddling
with my cock under the covers, making me hard, while
the three of us lie in her king sized bed to watch a
video.
And a couple months ago, Jessica knocked on Cathy's
bedroom door in the middle of the night, saying she
didn't fell good. I got up and unlocked it, but told
her to go back to bed, 'cause her mom was sleeping.
Jessica complained about it, and Cathy took her side
and got sort of mad at me for not letting her in, and
decided that from now on, we would leave her bedroom
door unlocked.
I didn't think that was such a great idea, but she's
the mom, so she won, of course. And the young girl did
indeed come into to crawl in bed with us on several
occasions. Never while we were actually making love,
thank goodness. But one time, we were both stark naked
under the covers when she came slipping in with a
'tummy ache'. But Cathy seemed to think nothing of it,
and simply cuddled with her for a while, then sent her
back to bed.
Cathy thought it was sweet the way Jessica always
jumped up into my arms so eagerly to kiss me hello or
goodnight, wrapping her lanky legs around me, clinging
her little body against mine. Nor did she seem to mind
when Jessica sometimes ran around the house wearing
nothing but a tee shirt which came down below her
bottom, but was pantiless beneath. I thought that was
rather inappropriate, but said nothing. Heck. If her
own mother didn't mind, then why should I?
Jessica also loves being the center of attention, and
regularly performs little shows and dance routines for
us while we clap and watch and praise her. But a few
weeks ago I was dumbfounded when she began dancing for
us wearing just the tee. She began giggling and
twirling around excitedly, lifting her arms high over
her head, so the tee would rise high enough to reveal
that she wasn't wearing underpants. I couldn't believe
it.
She was clearly doing it on purpose, getting a childish
exhibitionistic thrill by letting me see her naked
little bottom and pantiless muff, calling out, "Tom!
Look!" as she spun around quickly so the hem would rise
up high. Cathy was right there, and never said a word.
She had to have noticed what Jessica was doing. She had
to. But she just laughed at her daughter's silly antics
like always.
It made me terrifically nervous at first, but then I
figured once again: what the heck. If her mother
doesn't mind, then why should I, and went ahead and
looked, and clapped, and laughed, right along with
Cathy. I looked at the tiny bumps on Jessica's chest
pushing up through the tee shirt as she danced, the
slender bare legs, the swirling hair, the grinding
little ten year old pelvis as she danced like Brittney
Speers for us.
Encouraged, Jessica became more and more daring. I
guess she interpreted her mother's reaction-- or lack
of it-- as permission, just like I did. And I watched
in near shock as she turned her back to us and swayed
her firm little fanny back and forth while she danced,
and began sensuously lifting the tee up higher. Then
higher. Then higher still, all the way up to her waste.
The little girl's stark naked bubble-butt was in clear
and sustained view, accentuated by the rich tan line on
her flawless young skin. Her beautiful, crisp ass crack
framed by those round, firm, tight, perfect little
nudie buns. I tried not to stare with mouth agape, as
she slowly turned to face us, still sensuously swaying
her pantiless pelvis, still holding the tee shirt up,
so we could see her from the front, and get a good long
look at her puffy-lipped, hairless little slit.
"Look what I can do," she said, lifting the tee up
higher still, all the way to her ribs, to show us her
flat tummy, and the belly dancing move she'd seen on
MTV. Jessica looked directly into my eyes, and smiled
with pouty seductiveness, like she'd seen the sexy
girls on TV do. Then she looked sideways at herself in
the sliding glass door's reflection, watching herself
with an erotic thrill burning in her eyes, watching her
own naked pelvis grinding in the open air, as she
openly displayed herself to her mother and me.
And Cathy never said a word to discourage her, but
rather took my arm and laughed while we watched her
sweet daughter brazenly exposing herself. The only
comments she ever made about it, later, was a teasing
reference to how fast I came that night. She never said
it was explicitly due to her daughter's dance, but I
knew that's what she meant. It crossed my mind to
mention that she had cum mighty quickly herself, but
let it pass.
But perhaps the most daring, and at-the-edge thing
Cathy and I had ever done happened just last week. We
were reading Jessica to sleep, as is our routine,
sitting on the carpet, leaning against the wall outside
her cracked-open door, so she could hear the story from
her bed. It was a Mary Kate and Ashley book. Jessica's
favorite. We'd had a bit of wine, and got a little
frisky, and I started touching Cathy's naked legs while
she read.
Jessica couldn't see us, since we were outside her
door, and I figured she was probably asleep by now,
anyway. And it obviously turned Cathy on, so I got more
and more daring, and ended up sliding my hand down
between her thighs, and up her nighty. She shuddered
and gave me a very sexy smile, so I took it further,
and started rubbing her pussy, then moved her panties
to the side for direct access, while she tried her best
to just keep on reading.
It was remarkably erotic to watch her struggle to read
the words off the page with glazed eyes, biting her
lower lip, while feeling the warm wetness gushing
within her squirming cunt. When I pressed my finger
inside her, she lurched a little, but managed not to
stop.
We tried to be sneaky about it, but could Jessica guess
what was going on from the little pants and halting
quivers in Cathy's voice? I didn't know. But I nearly
fell over when she finally passed the book to me with a
smile and whispered "Your turn", and lowered her head
into my lap, fished out my erect cock, and began
sucking me off while I read out loud.
I remember being rather impressed with myself at my
ability to read in a smooth and normal voice while
feeling her wonderful lips slide up and down my shaft.
At least, that is, until I realized at one point that
I'd just read the same paragraph four or five times in
a row.
Neither of us actually had orgasms sitting right
outside her daughter's door, but once we went to bed,
Cathy's moans and orgasmic encouragements were much
louder than usual. I felt absolutely certain she was
secretly hoping that young Jessica could hear. That was
last week.
And then, last night. Fucking right in the family room
in full view of Jessica's bedroom door. 'Damn!' I
thought. The top of my head had been turned partly
toward the door, so I hadn't even thought to crane my
neck to see that it had opened. Cathy was more or less
facing it, so I figured that would be her job to
monitor if we were about to be interrupted. I mean,
she's her mother, after all.
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized
that she had indeed seen the door open, yet didn't view
it as an interruption. Instead, she straddled me even
higher and threw her hair back out of the way. She
didn't try to conceal what we were doing. She tried to
reveal it; purposely thrusting her naked chest and
pelvis forward for Jessica to see; reveling in the
exhibitionist thrill of feeling my cock up inside her,
while being spied on by her sweet daughter.
Well, I figured once again: if Jessica's own mother
didn't mind, then why should I? Let's have some fun
with it, I thought.
"Hmmm," I said to her, sipping my wine, and shifting
position in the restaurant's chair. "I guess I can see
how you might not be exactly sure how you feel about it
now, after the fact. But let me ask you this: How did
you feel about it at the time? What did it feel like to
know she was watching?"
She looked up at me with a small smile, remembering. We
both knew this was something of an unfair question. Her
state of intense arousal made the answer obvious
enough: it had turned her on like crazy, and we both
knew it.
And I had a pretty good idea why it had excited her so
profoundly to be seen having sex by her young daughter.
She'd shared her own childhood story with me. I knew
Cathy had an ongoing erotic fascination with Jessica's
sexual curiosity because she related so closely to it.
Because she, herself, had been very sexual as a little
girl.
She talked about it often, during intimate
conversations. Cathy was molested as a child. And that
experience never left her. She seemed fascinated by it,
almost obsessed, as though it somehow determined who
she was inside, and she often dwelt on those memories,
as if seeking some sort of answer.
The first time Cathy told me about being molested, she
was lying in my arms in a naked sexual afterglow,
perhaps three weeks into our relationship. I cradled
her in my arms and we drifted into pillow talk, and the
subject of our first sexual experiences came up. She
was hesitant at first, and seemed a little embarrassed
to talk about it. But then, as if shamefully confessing
past sins, she told me she'd been only eight years old.
I tried to say that it was okay, that all kids play
doctor and stuff, to which she answered, it wasn't
playing doctor. It had been with her mother's
boyfriend. She had been molested by her mother's
boyfriend on an ongoing basis, starting at the age of
eight.
I remember immediately going into 'good-listener' mode
when she told me this, prepared to be a supportive,
comforting shoulder to cry on; to let her cathartically
express her pain at how she'd been tragically
victimized. But as her story unfolded, it soon became
evident that as a child she had not viewed herself as a
victim at all. She had not only allowed herself to be
molested, but had enjoyed it enough to actively present
herself to her molester for more, eagerly seeking out
his erotic attentions.
She seemed to be nervously gauging my reaction to her
story as she told it, alert and attentive to my
responses as she nervously embellished and supplied
details and explanations. Would I be judgmental and
condemning? Would I seem disgusted by the whole sordid
experience? But I simply held her lovingly and
listened, giving her plenty of open space to reveal
whatever she chose. And she continued her tale, almost
as if trying to shock me with her secrets.
There had not been just a single molester, but three.
Between the ages of eight and eleven she'd been sexual
with three different grown men. Two were her mother's
boyfriends, and one was a neighbor.
As sympathetically understanding as I was trying to be,
as Cathy told me of all this, and it became clear
between-the-lines what a willing and enthusiastic
little participant she must have been, I was mortified
when my penis started to swell into a full blown
erection at the images she was bringing to my mind. I
tried desperately to squelch this erection with panicky
thoughts of baseball statistics, but my cock grew rigid
of its own accord. And since we were lying there naked
together, there was no way I could possibly conceal it.
I thought she would dump me for sure. Single mothers
don't usually abide men who get aroused by stories of
child abuse. But when Cathy saw my erection, instead of
storming from my apartment in a horrified tizzy, like I
feared, she astonished me by reaching down and taking
it gently into her hand. She began stroking it slowly,
while continuing to tell her tale of things the three
different men had done to her as a girl.
To my utter amazement, she seemed almost as relieved by
my erection as I was by her reaction to it. It seemed
to please her, as though it showed acceptance, that I
was not judging her negatively for her past, or
revolted by it. It seemed to free her, somehow, to
allow her to open up about these erotic and forbidden
things without restraint. She could bare her soul in a
way she'd never been able to do with her ex-husband, or
anyone other than her therapists.
And as she told me of the childhood experiences she'd
had, her naked body pressed closer and closer to mine,
until finally her pussy was rubbing right up against my
leg while she whispered the naughty things she'd done
as a child.
From our very first encounter, it was clear that both
Cathy and I very much enjoyed heightening our arousal
through sexy talk and pornographic whispers. But she
grew particularly turned on by telling me details about
how the first one had snuck into her bedroom and
fondled her while she pretended to sleep; or how the
second man put his hands under her lacy white Sunday
School dress and fingered her while she sat in his lap;
or how the third had snuck feels of her little bottom
and titties during a tickle fight, and how she began
grabbing at the front of his pants in giggling
retaliation, feeling his erection, rubbing it, until
finally, he let her unzip him so she could play with it
in the flesh. It took the first man two months to
convince her to take his cock into her little mouth.
The second two "didn't have to ask".
And as her tale continued, she stroked my penis with
ever increasing vigor, and it grew clear to me how
deeply she relished these kinky childhood memories, but
had always felt she had to keep them shamefully secret,
and bottled up. So the fact that they turned me on—just
as they turned her on-- relieved that embarrassment,
making us in a sense, kindred spirits. Until finally,
she became so carried away by reliving all of this with
me, and the fact that I accepted her arousal, matching
it with my own, that her head slid down my chest and
stomach, and she whispered, "Tell me the truth. Would
you let me do this… if I was nine?" She began sucking
me off.
I felt a profound sense of release, as I heard myself
openly admit the truth: "Yes. Oh God, yes!"
I felt my own psychic barriers fall away at my
confession; a confession I was making to myself,
perhaps for the first time, as much as to her. Would I
really let a nine year old girl suck me off? Yes. Given
the opportunity. Deep down inside I knew… I probably
would.
Even though I had just cum inside her; heedless of our
mingled juices coating my cock; with all the true-story
images of Cathy being molested as a little girl dancing
fresh in my mind; I closed my eyes, pretended she was
nine years old, and came hard while she sucked. She
swallowed it all with little child-like moans of
encouragement.
And when the frenzy subsided, she lay quietly for many
long minutes, continuing to softly nurse while it grew
soft in her mouth. I petted her hair lovingly and felt
myself drifting off to sleep. She crawled up into my
arms and pulled the blankets over us. In the twilight
of slumber, I barely heard her whisper softly in my
ear, "I know it was supposed to be wrong. But I loved
it. It didn't seem wrong. It felt soooo good. I
remember. I loved it. It was me. I wanted them to."
When I awoke, she was sleeping, her head resting on my
shoulder, her thumb in her mouth.
And thus began our process of truly opening up to each
other and sharing our deepest, most secret fantasies.
Such as my incestuous desire for my aunts and mother
when I was a young boy, and even how sexually
attractive I find little girls and young teens, and
sometimes masturbate thinking about them— fantasies
that I had never shared with anyone, for fear of harsh
judgement. But Cathy did not condemn me for my
forbidden fantasies, but positively loved them, because
they matched her own so closely.
As the weeks and months progressed, we explored our
secret inner lives with unbridled lust and ever
increasing honesty. Opening more and more to each
other. Growing closer and closer; more and more
trusting. Until Cathy finally shared her ultimate,
deepest, most forbidden fantasy – one she'd never
admitted to anyone – that of her daughter Jessica
having the same experiences she'd had.
She told me she often secretly fantasized about this;
about her own daughter being molested by grown men. She
said she was very ashamed about this fantasy, but she
just couldn't deny that it got her more excited and
made her cum harder and quicker than any other.
It's not that she actually wanted Jessica to be
molested. But she certainly harbored an intense fetish
about her own daughter's underage sexuality. She was
fascinated by the idea of Jessica being a sexual
creature, as though that aspect of her nature made them
more… I don't know… more connected, somehow.
Thus, it was not difficult to understand why spotting
young Jessica spying on us while we made love last
night had aroused her so intensely.
Cathy sipped her wine, and idly scratched the
restaurant's white tablecloth with a long nail,
considering my question. How did it feel knowing
Jessica was watching us? After a moment a wry smile
crossed her lips. She looked up at me and said, "Well,
how do you think it made me feel? I mean, I guess I
knew it was taking a risk doing it in the family room
like that. But to actually see her watching…" Her
sentence trailed off. I recalled her dramatic, almost
exaggerated pelvic motions, her quivering pussy
clamping my cock like a vice, milking every last drop
of cum from my balls.
"It turned you on like hell, didn't it? You were glad
she was watching." I didn't say that so much as a
question, but as a fact.
After brief hesitation she admitted with a whisper,
"Yes."
"I've never seen you cum quite like that," I said with
a wry smile. "I was kind of wondering what was up." My
cock was now growing quite hard as I pictured young
Jessica standing at her bedroom door watching us fuck.
I tried to imagine what she must have seen, and
wondered what her reaction to it must have been. Did it
turn the little girl on? I bet it did. My cock grew
even harder. I wanted to take the conversation further.
I wanted to explore it. I wanted Cathy to know I
thought it was ok, by accepting its erotic aspect as
definitive. I decided to go for it, to engage the
subject with sensuous lust rather than parental
concern. Heck, I figured. If she thought it was sexy,
who am I to disagree? I stepped right across the line
of propriety and asked, "Do you think she was playing
with herself? While she watched us?"
"I don't know," Cathy said, rolling the pasta with her
fork, a small smile lingering on the corner of her
mouth.
"Would you have been? When you were a kid? If you'd
been her?"
Cathy looked up at me, her smile broadening into a sly
grin. "Of course I would," she said with a sexy
chuckle. Her nipples were stiffening noticeably beneath
her thin dress.
"Mmmm." I took another sip of wine and asked, "Did it
turn you on to know she was looking at my cock?"
She scrunched her mouth up a little in thought, trying
to hold back her smile. "I don't know if she could see
it. Not for sure. I was already on top of you when I
noticed her."
"So you don't know if she saw what you were doing…
before you got on top? How you made me hard with your
mouth?"
"No." She toyed with her pasta some more.
"But deep down, you hope she saw that, don't you? Her
watching you suck me turns you on. Doesn't it? Tell me
the truth."
She shifted her position slightly, with an erotic gleam
in her eye. "That would be… very sexy. Yes."
"Are you wet right now thinking about it?" I asked
bluntly.
Cathy now laughed as she took another long, slow drink
of the wine. It was the end of the bottle and we were
both feeling good. I just smiled at her. I knew the
answer. Her nipples stood out noticeably, fully erects
and pressing through the fabric.
"Definitely," she confessed with a broad grin. She
looked so beautiful just then. So incredibly alluring.
"And that lovely cock of yours is hard as a rock right
now, isn't it?" she added.
"Oh yeah," I said.
Her hand moved under the table and onto my lap. "Ooo.
It is."
Just then, a teenaged busboy of about fifteen came up
to top off our already full water glasses. Bad timing,
I thought. Cathy squeezed me once before removing her
hand. I don't think the busboy saw this overt act of
public sex play, but I am absolutely certain that it
was the sight of her erect, protruding nipples that had
drawn him like a magnet to our table for a closer look.
The young boy was trying not to stare too obviously at
her breasts, but gave an embarrassed apology when my
glass overflowed.
"That's okay," I said. "We were just leaving." Cathy
folded her hands together on the table and smiled at
him as he awkwardly wiped up the spill. He was new. A
relative of Tony, the owner, just learning the ropes at
his first job, I guessed. Probably working under the
table, as a favor to his mother, trying teach him some
responsibility. His eyes kept darting rather obviously
to Cathy's swollen tits, with their sensuously erect
nipples. He was trying to be subtle, but failed
miserably. I felt a sexy twinge of pride to be with
her.
Cathy does indeed have lovely breasts, and I could tell
that she was well aware of the boy's distracted
interest in them, the way his wide eyes kept glancing
in obvious fascination. And I sensed that she was also
rather pleased with herself to have this sexy effect on
him.
I decided to have some fun with the boy. I looked at
him and smiled. "They're nice aren't they?" When he
looked at me, I looked at her breasts, then back at
him, to more clearly indicate my meaning.
He practically jumped when I said this, knowing he'd
been caught, blushed furiously, and quickly finished
mopping the spill and hurried away, almost knocking
over a tray in the process.
Cathy laughed and hit me in the arm playfully when he'd
gone. "You're terrible!"
I smiled slyly. "Who? Me?" I looked at her breasts.
"But they are nice." If anything, her nipples were even
more erect than before. I put my arm around her and
scootched closer, nuzzling her neck and whispered,
"He'll be thinking about you tonight, when he
masturbates. You know that, don't you?" I kissed her
neck, but resisted the impulse to place my hand
squarely on a swollen tit, right there in public. "Does
that turn you on? To know that young boy will be
stroking his cock while fanaticizing about you? About
undressing you, and kissing you all over? And feeling
your boobs?" I kissed below her ear. "That he'll
imagine fucking you when he cums?"
"That is a sexy thought," she whispered back, a smile
forming on her lips. "Would it turn you on if I
fantasized about that, too?"
"About the young boy fucking you? Yes. That would
definitely turn me on."
I kissed her neck, then pulled back to look into her
eyes. "But there's something else that would turn me on
even more." I slipped a Viagra pill from my pocket, bit
off half, and washed it down with the water he'd
brought. It's not that I needed it, really, but if
you've never tried it, you really should. It's amazing
the rock hard endurance it gives you. And taking the
Viagra had become sort of a ritual signal for us that
the next item on the agenda was an intense session of
unbridled and passionate sex.
Then I grinned at her, pulled out my billfold and threw
enough cash on the table to cover our meal and a
generous tip for Megan, our favorite waitress.
"Come on," I said standing and chugging down the last
of my wine, not caring who may see the erect bulge in
my trousers. I took Cathy by the hand, and helped her
up from the table.
"Going so soon?" she asked – knowing that something was
up. "No after dinner cigarette?"
"Not tonight." I answered, leading her from the
restaurant.
Continued in part 2...
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Kristen's collection - Directory 35