Ian Stuart: Home-Made Loving

During the past sixteen years of their married life, he had made a fortune. Most of it went into gilt-edged securities, certificates of deposits, and land deals that brought in a fabulous income for them.

He had bought this little island in the middle of the Ozarks, a home in Key West, a villa in France, and a townhouse in New Rochelle. Still he went to the little wars. One last one, he said, and that was it.

Only he had been captured, taken to trial, sentenced and executed before a firing squad. The entire world watched. Every leading newspaper and news magazine wrote about him. But they never once knew he was married with a wife and son who agonized throughout it all, and had finally sought peace and healing solitude in the hidden seclusion of the Ozark estate with its island in the middle of a huge lake and the completely furnished modern cabin. Within six months all the holdings had reverted to Mara, according to the sharing instruments drawn up by Mike's lawyer. Now he rested in a grave at the highest point of the island. The U.S. government had begged for the body and had finally gotten it shipped to the States. They had worked with her closely and she had had him placed in the grave where he would have wanted to be, on his island in the middle of the lake. She sighed. A year. And All that time she had not had a man. Mike would understand that. He knew her sensuality, her need for deeply charged sex, delving her cunt to the deepest point. That she loved sex in any form and could take it in whatever way her partner wished. She squirmed as she thought of it and her breath came quickly. “Hey, Mom,”

Tim called from the beach. She raised up and waved to him. “Come on down, Mom. Let's go in awhile. I'll race you to the float.” He pointed to the small diving float bobbing on the small waves about fifty yards from the shore. “Okay. Let me get my cap.” She rose and waved to him. Going into the house she found the cap, used the bathroom, and then returned to the patio. She left the house open, for they were the only ones on the island. Once past the grassy lawn of the cabin, she trotted down the sloping path toward the beach where he waded knee-deep. She drew a deep, shuddering breath as she noticed the hugeness of the knot at his crotch. Oh, to feel a big cock like that sliding sweetly and smoothly in and out of her slick, hot cunt! It would be heavenly! “Ready, Mom?” He grinned at her, poised for the rush into the water and then the swimming dash to the float.

“You are going to get yourself beaten this time, laddie,” she said and, without answering his challenge, she dived into the water and struck out for the float. With a yell of pleasure Tim plunged after her and they raced side by side. Then Tim pulled ahead, ducking his head and reaching for his stroke until he arrived at the float a body-length before her. As she arrived and seized the edge of the float, she looked up at him, laughing, and then realized his eyes were not on her face but upon her tits. The bikini halter was tiny, just covering the nipples, and one had slipped. She glanced down to see the large nipple jutting from the cold water, reaching out an inch from her breast. Her son was looking at it, and she saw the bulge in his suit grow larger and twitch. “Hey, I'm growing out of my clothes,” she said, and moved the tiny patch of cloth over the protruding bit of excited flesh. He reached down and gave her a hand up and they sat side by side on the float. “Mom.” His voice was low and he kept his head down. She glanced and saw his crotch bulge between the white thighs twitch as life moved through it.

“What, hon?” He was silent a moment and then a deep thrill, a sexual experience, ran through her body. He raised his eyes to her, big and blue, innocent in expression and yet pleading. Reaching over he put his palm around the breast nearest him. Squeezing gently until the nipple nosed his palm, he said hoarsely, “Mom, let me see your tits! I want to see them the worst thing in the world!”

She shivered, and the tremor of her body, the goose-bumps on the flesh of her arms and legs, were not caused by the chill of the wind or the temperature of the water. Sexual desire raced through her and she trembled as she heard the request of the teenager beside her on the float. “Tim… Timmy…” “Please, Mom. I have never seen a grown woman's tits. I have seen some girls that had little nubs, but that wasn't anything like you.” The bulge in his crotch was so huge that the cloth protruded outward. So hard was he that the shape of the knob of his rampant cock was outlined by the cloth. She could hardly restrain herself from reaching out and encircling the mouthwatering bulge and caressing it through the fabric of his trunks. “It-it isn't right for a son and a mother to do such things,” she whispered. “Mom, I have read where mothers and sons take showers together so the son will know about a woman's body before he gets married, and the same with a daughter and her father.”

She shivered, thinking of it. How it would feel to have soft, warm water pounding down upon them, while the huge cock pressed against her belly. “That doesn't make it right, Tim,” she insisted. She had shifted toward him and the thin cloth that covered her nipples gapped again and he could see the pebbly flesh about them, and the long hardness of them thrusting upward. He turned on his side, not trying to hide his erection, and now the head of his huge cock was almost escaping above the waistband of his trunks. He grunted with the thrill that raced through him as his cock hardened more and the sexual fire raced through his body. “Please, Mom, I just gotta see them.

What would it hurt? There's no one to watch us. We're out here alone, miles and miles of trees and hills between us and anyone else. You know that.” His hand was beginning to knead her breast now. One finger hooked about the little patch of cloth and tugged downward, and his eyes bulged as the shape of her tit began to be revealed. She shook with the intensity of her feelings, and her desire to cast herself into the arms of her son. Finally, forcibly seizing control, she sat up and looked about, staring around the lake. Then she reached back of her and unhooked the bra, letting it fall forward, lying back as she did so. It was loose now, and still retaining hold of it, he gently tugged and then gasped. It slid down to her belly, and lay there, two tiny bits of cloth, her breasts were fully and completely bared to the sun and to him. He stared at them for a long, long time. Then timidly he reached up and cupped a slim hand about her left tit, squeezing it gently, rolling it in his palm, then taking the nipple in his forefinger and thumb and squeezing it gently, tugging upward, until he was holding it outward from her tit, an inch or more and as thick as a thimble. She was breathing hard, her eyes closed, feeling the thrill of a male hand manipulating her tits again after a full year without it. There was more to come, she knew-there had to be now. The reddened knob of his cock thrust above the waistband of his trunks now, and she noticed it throbbing with his excitement.

“You are so uncomfortable,” she told him gently. “Why not slip your trunks off? A young boy gets so excited when he does what you are doing.” Without further invitation, he skinned the trunks down, and his rampant cock swung out and up, slapping against his sweaty belly with a wet, snapping sound. As he returned to playing with her tits, rolling and palming them, squeezing them, tugging at the darkened, quivering nipples, she kept her eyes upon his throbbing prick and thought how it would feel slipping deep into her juicy cunt, or deep into her slurping throat. She had seen only one other cock as big as this of her young son and she recalled it now vividly. It had belonged to her Uncle Benny. One summer he had stayed at her home while he worked, saving money to go to college. He was twenty and she was just beginning to develop, and had been instructed by a girlfriend recently fucked by her brother all about how the big cock could slip way up into your body and make you almost faint as it erupted with hot, slick cum again and again. One afternoon, when all were away from the house but she and her uncle, she went to his bedroom to take some ironed shirts into him. He had taken a shower and was standing nude before his mirror, whistling softly and combing his hair. He did not see her at first, and she stood and stared, bug-eyed at the long, thick cock that swung out from his belly, half-hard, with a big, ruby head completely skinned back. Then he had seen her and turned.