Ray Todd: Naughty like mom

Absently licking her lips, she was startled by the strange, but rather pleasant taste of his semen. She had expected the thick, sticky fluid to have a vile, filthy taste, but to her surprise, it was quite pleasant.

"Now take me home," she snapped when she had finished cleaning the mess.

"Why get so damned up-tight," he argued. "Lots of chicks suck off their guys."

"Well I'm not sucking you or anyone else off," she glared. "Now take me home."

"What's so fuckin' wrong with suckin' a guy off?" he sighed, turning the key in the ignition.

"If a blow-job is what you want, go find another babe," she sobbed, "but keep that filthy cock away from my mouth."

When Lance stopped the car in front of Robin's house, she jumped out and slammed the door, not bothering to say good night. She heard the noise and boisterous laughter from her parent's party, and, in no mood to face the guests, Robin walked around the house to the garden. It was early and she was too upset to sleep, so she lay on the cool grass next to the patio. She didn't understand how Lance could have been so disgustingly crude with her. If he expected her to suck on his Goddamned prick, she was never going out with him again.

Diane Clayton, Robin's mother, was the life of the party, as usual. Her beauty and boundless energy always put her at center stage at any gathering. Tonight was no exception, and Diane loved the attention she was receiving from the male guests. Having used the summer heat for an excuse, she was not wearing hose, preferring to expose her smooth thighs beneath her short, black skirt. She loved the way men glanced at her legs as she moved around the room.

She was particularly pleased with the attention she was receiving from big Charlie Crawford. He was a sales representative for a manufacturing firm and spent most of his time on the road. His wife, Arline, was one of Diane's best friends, but because of Charlie's job, Diane had never known him very well. Over morning coffee Arline had often confided in Diane about his sexual prowess. She had once laughingly told Diane that with his sexual skill, she was certain that he had plenty of women on the road, but as long as he was such a fantastic performer at home, she didn't really care.

Diane wished she could say the same about Bob. She even wished that Bob had a string of women, if only to keep him away from her. The one blight of their two years of marriage was Bob's ineptness of making love. Diane was an extremely sexy person, and Bob's inadequate performance in bed was driving her crazy. She longed to feel a big, virile cock shooting a hot load into her hungry fuckhole.

As always, when Diane was drinking, she was getting horny. While talking to the male guests, she playfully touched their arms and hands, or when moving around, she would lightly brush her tits against a man.

Tonight, she was particularly pleased at the way Charlie Crawford's eyes followed her around the room. The way he looked at her sent hot tingles through her itching pussy. She had a wild desire to suck that big cock that Arline had told her so much about. God how she would love to have him fire a big torrent of his tangy cum-juice into her mouth.

When the stereo began playing a slow melody from the big band era, she staggered unsteadily across the room toward Charlie.

"Hi Charlie," she smiled at him. "Do you want my hod?"

"What?" he grinned, not knowing quite what she meant.

"D'ya wanta hold my horny little body, and pretend we're dancing," she giggled suggestively.

This time he knew what she wanted, and gently took her into his arms. Subtly arching her hips forward, she rotated her cunt against his crotch. Leaning her head back and smiling up into his eyes, her pelvis pushed harder, grinding her pussy even tighter against him. His hand resting low on her back, he drew the arched girl closer, returning the pressure with his own groin. Dancing slowly in the corner of the room, their genitals were pressed together.

"You're a neat dancer," she smiled, rotating her pussy against the hard bulge that she felt growing in his crotch.

"Yeah," he grinned. "If this is called dancing."

"What would you call it?" she teased.

"I don't know," Charlie laughed. "If I think of something, I'll tell you."

"Why not call it fucking," she whispered into his ear.

Diane felt his cock lurch when she uttered the nasty word. Their conversation came to an end when other couples joined them on the floor. Holding each other closely in their arms, they danced in silence, their excited genitals grinding against each other.

Bob, who was sitting with Arline Crawford, watched the couple as he talked. It was obvious to him what Diane and Charlie were doing, but he was powerless to stop it. He was fully aware of his inability to sexually satisfy his wife and had purposely overlooked some discreet affairs she'd had during their two years of marriage. Loving her tremendously, he felt their relationship was perfect, except for sex. He painfully overlooked her little adventures rather than lose her.

It was painful to watch Diane offering another man the same joys that she denied him. He was gad that Arline's back was turned, sparing her the torture he was going through.

When the music stopped, the horny couple joined Bob and Diane. Watching his wife's flushed face and glazed eyes as the two couples talked, Bob could tell how sexually excited his wife was. How he wished he were capable of lighting such a fire in her body.

Half drunk and crazed with the sexual excitement that Charlie Crawford had ignited in her loins, Diane could think of nothing but that big cock that she'd felt lurching in his pants. As the evening wore on, the desire became more intense than she could bear. Her body felt like it had turned to butter, and the itching sensation in her pussy was driving her wild.

Feeling almost faint, Diane went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Standing by the sink, she heard someone enter the room. Turning, she saw Charlie Crawford's big frame looming above her.

Taking her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to her eagerly parted lips. Their tongues locked sensuously in a deep kiss, they writhed their loins together with a desperate madness. Rotating her pussy against his crotch, Diane felt his stiff cock.

She had never been so horny in her life, and a sticky stream of cuntal juice was dripping out of her inflamed cunt and running down her thigh. Her tongue slurping deep in his mouth, Diane frantically ground her juicy cunt against his cock. God, how she wanted to feel and touch it.

"Diane," he gasped. "Can we spend an afternoon together in a motel?"

"God, yes," she sobbed. "Any time. Any time. Just call me."

Thrilled that she was going to spend an afternoon in bed with Charlie, she still had a wild desire to fondle his big prick now. She began tearing at his belt and zipper so she could release his throbbing shaft from the confines of his stretched pants. Glancing through the slightly opened kitchen door, Diane saw her husband was deeply engrossed in a conversation.

"Come out here," she whispered, taking Charlie by the hand and leading him onto the darkened patio.

Slipping into the shadows, she backed him against the wall, only three or four feet away from where Robin was lying on the lawn. The girl was partially concealed by a low shrub, making it almost impossible for them to notice her.

Robin was about to announce her presence, when she saw Charlie Crawford's pants drop to his ankles, revealing his cock.

"God, Charlie," she heard her mother gasp. "That's a beautiful, big cock."

Robin stared in disbelief as she watched her mother sliding his velvety foreskin up and down over his cockhead. It was too late now to announce her presence, so Robin remained perfectly still, her heart pounding in her throat.