Donna Allen: Hot loving mom

After that night, Kerry had trouble meeting her son's eyes. She constantly pictured how he'd looked jerking off. Her mouth would suddenly water when she remembered how his spunk had shot into the air.

Things with Elliot stayed the same. Rotten. They fucked almost every night, but for her it was always a flop. She gradually stopped complaining. She realized he wasn't going to change and more and more she gave consideration to having an affair.

One morning after Elliot had left for work and Jason for school, she moped around the house thinking about her troubles. She tried to fill her time with domestic things, but she'd never enjoyed cooking and cleaning and all the other typically feminine pursuits. The only thing she really enjoyed was shopping, and even that was beginning to bore her.

She decided to clean out some drawers that hadn't been touched in years and started with the desk she shared with Elliot. She took each of the drawers out in turn and placed them on the bed. Then she climbed onto the bed and emptied the drawer, going over all the contents before either replacing them or throwing them away.

On the bottom of the last drawer she found a large envelope. It was sealed and she didn't remember what it contained. She lifted it up to the light, but there was no way to tell what was inside without opening it.

Carefully tearing open the top, she pulled out a stack of papers and yellowed newspaper clippings. She was about to glance at the clippings, when she saw that on the bottom of the pile were about a dozen eight by ten photographs.

She pulled out the photographs and dropped the papers. The photographs were of naked women in all kinds pf obscene poses. She spread them put on the bedspread, astonished at her discovery. All the women had their legs spread and their pussies were exposed. They all had dark-haired cunts and big tits. One of the girls had a big black cigar sticking out of her gash and another had a finger up her slit.

"Jesus Christ!" she muttered as she gazed from one to the other. "The son-of-a-bitch gets off on pornography!"

She lined the pictures up and gazed at the variety of cunts and tits. At least Elliot had good taste. All the girls were gorgeous and they all had big tits. Still, why would a mature man like Elliot need pictures when he had a perfectly good wife at home?

Glancing at the newspaper clippings and the other papers, she pushed the pictures aside and tried to find a correlation between the papers and the photographs. It didn't take long. The newspaper clippings described various nightclub acts and it soon became clear that the girls in the photos were strippers in local clubs.

She wondered if Elliot used these pictures to get turned on. The envelope had been sealed, but that didn't mean anything. She pictured him rummaging through the desk every night before they went to bed. No, that was impossible. She would have seen him do it.

What amused her was how much the girls in the pictures resembled her. At least the slab went for the same type of woman. Her type. She wondered if he knew any of the girls and if he'd fucked any of them and realized suddenly that she didn't care if he had.

She put the envelope back and threw everything else back into the drawer before replacing it in the desk. She didn't care if he saw the torn envelope. He couldn't say anything to her. If he did he'd have to admit the pictures were his.

That settles it, she thought as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. If he's cheating, so can I. I've only got a few more good years and I'm not going to waste them.

She stepped into the shower and washed her hair. She let it dry while she made up her face. She didn't know what she was going to do to meet a man, but she'd think of something.

Back in her bedroom, she examined herself in the mirror. Just a slight sag to her tits. Not bad for her age. And Jason had nursed until he was two. The thought of her teenage son sucking her tits made her blush, but also brought an itch to her cunt. Anyway, for a woman over thirty who had nursed a baby for almost two years, she wasn't in bad shape.

Brushing her long dark hair, she examined the tiny network of lines at the corners of her eyes. The only place she still looked like a teenager was her pussy. Thank God for that, she thought as she stroked her cunt-muff. With the lights dim, a man would never think she was over twenty-one. Did all cats look alike at night?

When she was satisfied with her face and hair, she went to the closet and rummaged around until she found a skirt and blouse that emphasized her big tits and small waist. She decided it was time to stop living in blue jeans and vowed to go shopping and buy some new skirts. A woman should show off what she's got and maybe she was past the stage of tight jeans anyway.

She left the house at one o'clock and walked quickly down the street to the bus stop. She decided to leave her car at home. A car could be a hindrance when she was trying to meet a man.

When she was halfway down the street, she heard the sound of a bus and started running to catch it. She didn't feel like waiting a half hour for another. She was just passing the last house on the block when her heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk and she fell flat on her face.

"You okay?" a male voice said when she'd lifted herself to a sitting position.

She'd caught herself on both hands and the palms of her hands stung from the impact. She looked up, momentarily dazed, and gazed into the eyes of Lou Bradley, the owner of the nearest house.

"You okay, Kerry?" he said again, a look of concern on his craggy face. "I've been meaning to have that damn crack fixed."

"I think so," she said. "I think I hurt my ankle though."

"Here, let me help you," he said, placing his hands under her arms and lifting her to her feet.

She leaned against him, placing her aching foot on the ground and then lifting it up again. "Oh, God, I think I sprained something," she said.

"Lean on me and we'll go into the house," he said. "I'll take a look at it and put some ice on it."

He draped one of her arms around his neck and she managed to hobble on her good foot into his house.

She sat down on the living room sofa and he went to the kitchen for some ice. It had been years since she'd been in the Bradley house. She'd been friendly with Lou's wife, Grace, but Grace had died about five years ago. Now Lou kept pretty much to himself, raising their teenage son.

"This should help," he said, striding into the room and filling it with his presence.

He used a kitchen, towel wrapped around a dozen ice cubes to bring the swelling down. After a while he crouched in front of her legs and examined her ankle.

"I think it's a minor sprain," he said. "Nothing serious. You'll be as good, as new in no time."

They chatted then and he went to the kitchen for iced tea. She thought it was strange when he crouched down on the floor in front of her again and continued examining her foot and ankle.

"See, it's getting better, already," he said.

"It'd be a damn shame if anything happened to these gorgeous legs. I guess if that happened Elliot would sue the city for damages."

"I'm not sure Elliot would even notice," she said as Lou sat down next to her on the sofa.

He leered at her cleavage. "I can't believe that," he boomed in his husky voice. "Why, half the guys in the neighborhood would like to be in his shoes."

He leaned over and ran his hand over her leg. "Thank goodness you didn't break anything. Those gains are priceless."

"I'll bet you say that to all the women on the block," she said.

Kerry had never considered Lou as a possible lover. He'd seemed so preoccupied recently what with raising his son and taking care of his house. But now she gazed at him and realized he was a very sexy-looking man. He had a big chest and muscular arms and shoulders. He had a thick forest of hair peeping out of the top of his shirt and his legs looked strong through his china pants.