Carl Tatem: Daughter_s little friend

She felt like a kitten, rubbing herself and squirming her body this way, and color flushed in her cheeks, shuddering from the movements of her softly massaging hands. No… no… I mustn't, she warned herself, and with some difficulty, she forced herself to stop the warm stroking. She groaned and turned over on her stomach, pressing the sensitivity of her clitoris tightly into the mattress, attempting to relieve the fire that was beginning to rage there.

But her mind continued to dwell on her husband, recreating his naked body vividly, and she could almost relive the times when he had buried his hardness up in her belly, and their hotly writhing coupling on this very same bed.

Robert Murphy's penis was in view now… Big, and thickly swollen with his lust for her body, hard as iron and jutting from his muscular, Air Force trained body in open, abandoned display of his excitement. Alice quivered, telling herself to stop thinking such lewd, sickly erotic scenes, yet as she lay heavily on her vividly pulsating stomach, holding her breath, she continued to feel a strange series of involuntary sensations churning deep in her belly and loins as the prurient images filtered like a stag movie through her head. Her breasts ached and her tiny nipples grew redder and hardened like little diamond chips as she imagined her husband coming forward, crawling on the bed… her own nakedly trembling thighs spread in welcome acceptance to his enormous cock which seemed to lead his body toward her…

A tender agony of delicious fire swirled through her vagina and womb, in spite of her inner revulsion at the lewdness and clarity of the pictures she was forming in her aroused mind. Her hands, against her will, burrowed down between her body and the bed and groped at the excitedly pulsing curls of her pubic hair. Her legs scissored open, her toes dangling down over either side of the wide bed. She could feel her own moist pussy slit beneath her pubic hair palpitating hotly now against the tips of her fingers which were drawing the narrow, hair-fringed furrow open, exposing the lips of her aching cunt to the warm air. With a groan from her widely open mouth, she slowly, teasingly, sunk one of her middle fingers deep into the thin, vertically moistened opening. She held her breath, relieved for the moment, but it was only a short moment. The fire burned more intensely, demanding more to feed its lewd hunger. She slowly, carefully worked in another finger, drawing her knees under her and then raising up in a kneeling position, with her buttocks high in the night air. The squeak of the bedsprings became more violent as she hand-fucked her fingers hungrily up into the moistness of her vagina and then withdrew them… only to slide them once again in and out in a desperate imitation of her husband Robert's penis as he had once fucked her.

The images in her mind of their nakedly locked bodies drove her on, and she rocked back on her knees against her fingers, three of them now, screwing them deeper into herself. She could see her husband's huge, thickly glistening shaft ramming its way into her clasping cunt, sinking through the soft pubic curls like a greased telephone pole. Her hands became that pole, and her gasps began to match those of hers when she had been grinding her buttocks up beneath his racing body, surging her own sweating white thighs upwards into his loins in her own desperate search for orgasm. She wanted everything she had once had; she wanted to be split again by his rampaging cock; she wanted to be fucked. Oh, God, how she wished Robert was once again with her, pumping his own cum-filled penis into the hot, searing cuntal passage up between her legs. Oh God! Her fingers weren't enough as her thoughts centered on the massive rod, which had fucked her as manfully, as beautifully in days gone past, and she had to have more – but there were only her fingers. In desperation, she reached up behind and down her moon-shaped buttocks with her other hand and searched the smooth wet crevice, then wormed a finger deep into the tiny puckered opening of her anus.

"Oooooh God!" she gasped aloud as a sharp pain lanced through her bucking flesh, then stilled for a moment, only to take up the rhythm of the bedsprings again, her upper body braced against the top of her head digging into the mattress. Her full white tits hung down, their nipples brushing sensuously against the bottom sheet as they swayed heavily and excitedly beneath her slavishly kneeling body. Electric tingles of pleasure shot through her nerves as she pictured herself, legs spread wide, twisting and writhing nakedly under the handsome, muscular body of her husband. Her face colored crimson as she felt her climax approaching – rushing at her with a great roar – and she hung for a moment, teetering on the edge of release, her whole body vibrating.

And then the white hot juices of her vaginal secretions gushed warmly around her rummaging fingers, covering her hand, and running down her smoothly tensed inner thighs and legs to soak the mattress below. She could feel it rivuleting in tiny prickly streams down, and she stayed that way, her whole body quivering helplessly on her hands and knees, for some time, her buttocks still swaying in the air. She couldn't bring herself to withdraw her fingers from her still desperately clenching vagina until the last dying throbs of her explosively delicious orgasm had stilled in her flesh. At last she slithered her fingers wetly from her satiated cunt, and she rolled limply over to her side, the ever-present feeling of guilt crawling over her as it always did after her futile bouts with her conscience. She had to learn to control herself, to stop her self-manipulations… If she had caught Sandy masturbating like this, there'd have been a terrible scene… Was she so starved for sex that she couldn't subdue her carnal desires? Was there something wrong with her?

Thank God, she was alone and nobody knew… She was ashamed of her actions enough as it was. Her spent body curled into a tight, womb-like ball, and lethargy from her release flowed over her, letting sleep glide smoothly through her tortured and confused mind…

Then she heard the front door close, the sound of feet walking across the parquet floor between the entrance hall and the kitchen.

There was a slight pause… And then she heard the unmistakable sound of Sandy. Her daughter was giggling! She heard her distinctly – a tittering, girlish squeal coming through the walls. Sandy was home, and she had brought that boyfriend of hers with her! What was that Tommy Edgars doing to her to make her giggle like that?

Another peel of laughter rippled through the otherwise silent house. Alice sat up in bed stiffly, clutching the sheet to her breasts almost defensively. Whatever he was doing to her daughter out in the kitchen, she was enjoying it – perhaps too much? A tiny shock of concern passed through the lovely mother, making her spine shiver with apprehension. Could Sandy be allowing advances to be made to her? No… that was too silly to imagine. But the thought persisted, and Alice found herself imagining Sandy kissing the youth, as she had kissed Robert long, long ago before they were married. Then she recalled the other things she'd let him do to her, and suddenly she got very worried again.

Alice moved around and sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what she should do, if anything. She didn't want to make a fool of herself if nothing was wrong, and it could be perfectly innocent out there. She listened… there was quiet again, and then she heard a muffled mewling, followed by a long sigh of pleasure.

Without turning on the lamp, she groped her way through the darkness of her bedroom to the door, pressing her ear tightly against it to see if she could hear anything more. There was the unmistakable rustling of clothing and a soft kind of whimpering, but it was impossible to tell exactly from the sounds what was going on. She hesitated again, telling herself that if something were drastically wrong, Sandy would scream for help. She would certainly hear that! Her hand was frozen on the doorknob as she waited silently, unable to make up her mind what to do.