Frank Brown: Hot bed housekeeper

Kathy spotted a school picture of the boy among the clutter on his dresser. She picked it up, gazing into the seductive blue eyes under the blond bangs. The boy was a knockout, as she'd used to say about the boys in her high school. The boy turned her on. She wanted him. God did she want him!

She found herself pulling off her clothing – her dress, her bra, her panties. Her tits had swollen hugely, her cherries large, purplish, and bumpy, her nipples like hard fingertips. Pussyjuice dribbled from between her furry, swollen cuntlips and trickled down the insides of her thighs. She fell on her back an Randy's bed, rolling in the smell of him, his picture in one hand, her other hand jabbing between her legs.

"Oh, Randy, fuck me!" she moaned. "Give it to me, baby!"

She kicked her legs up in the air and pointed her toes. She arched her back and rocked her hips, thrusting her tits up high, rubbing them against the phantom chest of the phantom teenage boy.

"I want you!" she growled.

She didn't care anymore that she was married to Otto and had promised to be faithful to him forever. He'd never satisfied her anyway. Not once in their fifteen years of marriage had he ever satisfied her. She was thirty-three, an attractive woman at the peak of her sexual need, and married to a man who had never given her an orgasm, married to a man who used her a few minutes each morning as a sex toy, as no more than a receptacle for his cum, married to man who cared about his own quick pleasure and nothing about giving her pleasure.

Randy would fuck me good, she thought. Randy would fuck me for an hour if I wanted it, all day if I wanted it. Randy loves to fuck, I can tell that. And I know he knows how. He must know all about sex after studying all these magazines.

She snatched the boy's jockstrap off the floor from where it had fallen next to the bed. She draped the mesh crotch over her nose like an oxygen mask. The scent of teenage nuts whirled through her head, getting her high and drunk, dazed and dizzy. Her fingers knifed in her clutching, juicing pussy. Her toes clutched simultaneously with her cunt. Pussycream frothed out of her and dribbled down her asscrack like hot spit, dribbled down farther, getting the bedsheet slippery under her ass. She wondered if the boy would smell her on his bedsheet when he got into bed tonight.

"Ohhh, Randy, I want you!" she moaned, kissing the picture of the cocky, blue-eyed mouth. Each smack of her lips sent throbbing fuck-pleasure through her cunt. She pressed the spit-wet picture to her nipples, letting the boy suck her tits. "Do you like these tits, stud? I bet you've never sucked tits like these, baby! I bet you've never fucked a cunt like mine!"

In high school she'd had a reputation for being a sexual tigress. The boys had raved about her as much as the girls had raved about Otto Finn. But the stories about her had been true. The stories about Otto had been lies. The girls had made up all the stories. Otto had never fucked any of them. He'd taken them out, but he'd never fucked them. The only female Otto had ever fucked in his life was Kathy. He didn't deserve her, he'd never deserved her.

"Ohhh, Randy, you big beautiful hunk!" Kathy flipped over onto her belly, rubbing her tits against the mattress, kissing Randy's picture. Her back was arched and her ass up in the air as she continued reaming out her pussy with her stiff fingers. Cunt juice drenched her hand. She rubbed her fingers madly against her clit.

She sat up, churning her cunt on her jerking fingers, bouncing up and down and pretending to ride the boy's stiff, vertical cock as she straddled his lap. Her tits flapped. How many boys had she fucked like this in the old days in the front seat of their cars, her hot tits bouncing in their faces, their dripping tongues lapping at her excited nipples? Scores. She'd fucked scores of boys before she'd married Otto.

She imagined the boy moaning, grunting, his big blue eyes nearly popping out of his head as she tightened her cunt and bore down on his cock.

"Ohhhh yes!" moaned, imagining the teens big cock sliding in her cunt. He had a big cock, that was for sure. Unless he stuffed his cutoffs with a grapefruit, he had one hell oft big cock coiled like a cobra inside them. It was the kind of prick she'd imagined Otto as having. "You got a big cock, baby – a big, fucking cock on a big, fucking boy!"

Her heart raced. She panted fiercely, sweat beading on her forehead, sweat dripping from her nose. She hadn't masturbated with such enthusiasm and pleasure in years, maybe never. Her tits bounced like water-filled balloons. Her cunt tightened rhythmically around her jamming, twisting fingers.

She licked the photograph of Randy Chapman and snatched up his jockstrap again and inhaled the scent of his hunky teen balls. The fuck-tension surged through her ass hole and cunt and her loins erupted with spasms. Flashes of white light popped behind her eyeballs.

"I'm coming!" she moaned. "Ohhh, Randy, shoot it in me! Squirt it in my coming cunt! Ohhh, baby!"

She rotated her ass, churning her cunt on her grinding, ramming fingers, juicing hot pussycream in her hand. Randy's picture fell to the mattress as she pressed his jockstrap hard to her mouth and gnawed on the ball-flavored mesh.

When it was over, Kathy pulled the jockstrap away from her mouth. Something was caught between her teeth and she extracted it, holding it up to the light. It was a blonde hair from Randy Chapman's balls. She pulled her right hand, dripping with pussy-froth, away from her cunt.

What am I doing? she thought. What have I done? She glanced at the open bedroom door, once again expecting to see one of the Chapmans watching her.

Nobody was there. In the silence of the big house her heart sounded like a wildly pounding bass drum to her. She eased herself off the bed, pussycream dribbling down her legs like hot syrup. After drying the pussyjuice stain on Randy Chapman's bed with a hair drier, she fled for home.

Her cunt aching with need after Otto's usual two-minute pre-work fuck, Otto's cum sticky between her unsatisfied cuntlips, Kathy arrived at the Chapman residence at nine the next morning. She let herself in through the front door and went directly to the kitchen, where she found a bunch of dishes to be washed. She decided to wash them later.

Next, she went to the master bedroom and found the bed unmade and some dirty clothes left on the floor for washing. She would make the bed, wash the clothes, and clean up the downstairs, too – but later. She had something else on her mind at the moment. Her cunt craved release. She kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot up the plushly carpeted stairway to the second floor, ready for another jerk off session in Randy Chapman's bed.

Approaching the bedroom, she was startled to hear some noise, and her heart almost stopped. In her horny state, she'd never paused to consider that maybe she wasn't alone in the house. It hadn't occurred to her that Randy himself might still be home on this sunny summer morning. Ten feet from his open bedroom door, she froze, listening, ready to retreat and flee back down the stairs if need be. Then she heard Randy Chapman's voice.

"Ohhhhh yeahhhhhh! Ahhh fuck!"

Her heart slamming against her breastbone, Kathy crept toward the door. She had to take a peek. She couldn't control herself. From the shadowed hallway, she leaned forward and peered into the bedroom.

Randy Chapman, his deeply tanned body naked as a jaybird, lay face-down on his bed, his ass rising and falling as he humped. Under him lay a life-size sex-doll, a female manikin of flesh-colored rubber, complete with silky brunette hair and long eyelashes. The doll's legs were spread, and the boy was tucking his cock in and out of her gaping, fur-lined cunt.