Peter Jensen: The boyfriend_s Dad

Yet her mind still dwelt on her child. She was thinking how Tamera would one day make a good wife for a man, and that no matter how lonely and sad she felt when her daughter left, it was selfish not to allow her to be with boys her own age. When the right man came along, Carla was certain that Tamera would give herself in marital relations totally and completely, just as she herself had done with Arnold. As I may yet do again…

The thought of her own secret sexual desires made Carla blush with shame, but as she gazed down at her own naked body, she had to admit that she still had much to offer a man. I've a good shape… and if I'm lucky I'll be able to please another man with the same intensity and passion as I offered Arnold. Until then, I'll hold myself in reserve, just as if I were a virgin again…

Her flaxen blonde hair was longer than her daughter's and she experimentally let it fall down over her shoulders and curl provocatively around the ruby nipples of her cream-white breasts. God, I still look very brazen and sensual that way… then shame-faced at her thoughts, she swept her hair back up again and raised her arms over her head, stretching her breasts and loins taut, in a classic nude pose. She stood that way for a long moment, letting her eyes scan the lovely smooth flesh of her torso, having to admire in honest appraisal the flat surface of her abdomen and the tiny dimple of her navel, then the soft fluffy hair of her pubic triangle, golden and very fine. She could see the pink lips of her vagina and the tip of her clitoris peeking shyly out from the soft puffy slit of her cunt in almost childlike innocence. Pirouetting lightly, she examined the dimpled roundness of her smoothly curving buttocks and the rippling muscles in the back of her slim, tapered thighs.

Self-consciously, she wrenched her prurient thoughts away from her physical being and turned off the tap water. The tub was full now, and she stepped into it, feeling the soothing tepidness of the water banish the fetid heat of the day. She slowly sank down, relaxing, nearly contented at last as she lay with her head touching the rear lip of the porcelain. As usual in moments of relaxation, she thought about Arnold.

Arnold had been a rangy man, lean, hard-muscled and tan, alive and virile every moment Carla had known him, and the love the two had shared had had the intensity of a forest fire. She hadn't cared that he'd been an underpaid salesman, unable to afford the finest of luxuries for her, or even that they'd had to scrimp and save for some of the necessities. She was proud of him, feasting in his sensuality and his animal eyes, his hands, his mouth, his penis… Why did he have to be called up? Why did the Army have to have one of their silly little alerts and make all of the Reserves come running, and then… Carla stifled a small sob, thinking of what must have happened when the munitions explosion had taken her husband from her forever. No more Arnold, no more hands or mouth or eyes or that wonderful iron-hard, life-giving penis…

She fondly remembered the last night they'd made love, when in their innocence they'd thought it was only going to be a parting of a few days or weeks – and even then the pain had been acute. Arnold had been naked, as she had been, and he straddled her thighs on the same bed that was now only a few feet on the other side of the door. He'd kissed her as his excitedly erect cock rubbed against her quivering, wetly aching pussy… She'd spread her legs for him, her desire building…

Carla lay in the water, shocked at her thoughts – and yet, she couldn't help shutting her eyes and dreaming of his virile, hard penis. Holding her breath, she felt a strange series of small involuntary sensations of arousal churning through her loins as she allowed the lewd images to filter hazily through her mind.

His buttocks moved so that his penis would slide up and down in the trembling little valley of her slowly moistening cunt, and then her fingers reached out and touched it, teasing the stretched foreskin back and forth, making him groan with similar delight to the warm, pulsating sensations he was building up down between her thighs…

And it was as if Carla could feel it happening all over again. She opened her eyes and looked at her breasts and saw the nipples were turgid, jutting up from the gently floating globes of her breasts like mountain peaks on lonely Pacific atolls. A tender aching began between her legs, in spite of the revulsion she felt at what she was thinking. She moved her hand from the side of the tub, her guilt slightly assuaged by the knowledge that she was completely alone with her sinful reveries, her stomach alive with tiny fluttering shocks as exciting images poured through her body. She moved her hand because she couldn't control it and touched her breasts, the contact of her fingers intensifying the throbbing in her vagina. Her entire being quivered in the warmth of the bath water.

Arnold was once more on top of her naked body, only lower now, his breath hot in her ear, his sensuously throbbing cock just inside the warm, straining lips of her vaginal opening. She was straining harder toward him, her inner thighs and buttocks rigid as he slipped the tip of his blood-swollen penis inside her cunt, her womb dilating open wider so she could take his full length all the way, deep… deep inside her aching belly…

A wave of rising shame made Carla momentarily halt in her fantasizing, but there was no use deluding herself. She was aroused, highly aroused, and she was alone. If only Arnold was there for her to love, for she needed release badly – desperately. It was wrong, it was sick, and yet, oh God… She continued to massage her breasts as she slowly capitulated to the physical urgency which was surging like a tidal wave of desire through her belly and loins. Only the reassuring knowledge that she was alone was left, that and the waves of her remembered embraces with Arnold that night so long ago blotted out the guilt of masturbation…

"Yes, darling… take me… take me…" Arnold's fevered whispers reverberated through the brain of the hotly writhing young woman. She could feel his nakedness upon hers once again, pressing her breasts flat and crushing the breath from her as his cock wormed forcefully up into her waiting cunt. "Milk me, darling… Ohhhhh!"

Carla arched her back, straining her hips up off the tub bottom, her stomach and the moisture-drenched curls of her pubic mound out of the water. She braced her body by pressing the soles of her feet on the sides, lifting her left leg and hooking it on the outer rim. She cupped the creamy naked globes of her breasts in her long slim fingers, kneading their hardening flesh and causing lewd whirlpools of soaring passion to seethe deep inside her belly, as her eyes drew to the now open fluted edges of her trembling cunt down between her legs. She couldn't… she mustn't…

They were moving together now, harder and faster with increasingly savage strokings and pumpings, building to an explosion of ecstasy. She felt herself grow taut, her desperately straining cunt-lips locked hotly around his lunging penis like tiny hungry lips around a lollipop.

She couldn't stand it any longer. Her right hand dropped between her wide-splayed thighs, and she squirmed her middle finger into the soft moist flesh, the generated passions so very soft, so very wonderful. She manipulated the hairline inner lips until she felt them swell with blood, and her clitoris tingled as her index finger came into searing contact with it. She gasped in total abandonment and delight as she thrashed the bath water and squeezed her breast, her hand rubbing across her sensitively aroused cunt faster and faster. Nothing existed for her in that moment except the delirious dreams of her lover, as her mind and body raced to mutual climaxes…