Kathy Andrews - Show me more, mom!

Finally, she rolled from him, breathing harshly. Then she sat up and looked at the gleaming juices between her tits and on his stomach. Tony was still breathing hard, his smooth chest lifting and falling. His face was coated with her cunt juices, and he was grinning as if he had accomplished something no one else ever had.

Running her hand over her tits, through his come-juice, Wendy licked her palm and fingers. She giggled.

"It tastes so good," she purred. "Even if you did come all over my tits, it tastes as good as if you came in my mouth."

"You're nasty, Mom," Tony laughed.

"Oh, you better believe I am!" She grinned wickedly. "I can be real nasty when I'm in the mood."

She leaned over her son and lapped at the juice on his stomach. His cock had softened by now, and she touched the tip of her tongue to the small piss-hole, making her son jerk.

"We don't need a cloth," she said, running her tongue through the juices on his flesh. "I can use my tongue like a cloth, see?"

She licked up the juices on his stomach, swirling her tongue through them, swallowing. She licked all over his stomach, dipping into his belly button where come-juice had pooled.

"See what I mean?" she laughed wantonly, her lips glistening.

"I see," he laughed with her. "But how are you going to lick your tits clean, Mom?"

"I'm not," she said. "I can't lick my own tits. But I can do this."

She cleaned her tits with her hands, then licked them.

"That's what I mean… you're nasty," Tony laughed.

"I can get much nastier," she purred, fondling his empty balls.

Wendy began to dwell on the things she and her father had done when she was young. The more she thought about it, the more unfair it had seemed to her. She was sure her father had been very frustrated, despite the many times he had jacked off onto her stomach, or the times she had taken his thick, long cock in her little hand and jerked him off.

No man could be satisfied for long with a hand-job, Wendy felt.

There might be a few, but she had no interest in a man that wanted only a hand-job. A cock, hard and ready, belonged inside a hot, wet cunt, or a greedy mouth. She smiled, and added: or a tight asshole.

She bathed for a long time while her son was off at his football practice again. She loved hot water, the feel of a soft, fragrant soap on her skin. Her skin was so smooth and satiny, and she wanted to keep it that way for as long as she could. She knew her son would eventually start looking at the creamy-fleshed young girls soon enough, and she also knew when it happened, she would be unable to compete with those tight, curvy bodies. But until her son lost interest in her body, she was going to keep it as pliable and exciting as she could.

Drying herself, she slipped into a fresh pair of bikini panties, white ones with delicate pink roses along the front. Sliding a tight skirt over her hips, she zipped it then slipped her arms into a lacy blouse. She looked as good as any tight assed teenaged girl, she was pleased to see in her mirror. For the time being, her tits still stood high and firm, and her ass protruded delicious ly. The slit of her skirt showed an expanse of smooth, slim thigh. Stepping into heels, she then applied a faint coat of lipstick, using no other makeup. She brushed her long hair until it gleamed. Wendy didn't think older women were attractive with long hair, but she had a few years to go before she was in that class, she told herself.

Knowing her son would not be home for a couple of hours, she drove to her father's house for a short visit. She had not seen him in a couple of months, and felt guilty about it. Even though still young, he had time on his hands. He had retired too early, he kept complaining, but when Wendy suggested he find work, he refused, saying no one wanted a man his age. Now, he worked in his flower garden behind the house, growing prize-winning roses.

She found her father in the flower garden. He was sitting on his heels, weeding and fertilizing.

"Daddy," she said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "I've been worried about you. I had to visit."

"Worried about me?" he asked, his eyes twinkling up at his daughter. "Why worry about me?"

Wendy saw his still-handsome face, and felt love for him. She stood at his side, rubbing her hands through his hair, amazed that there was no sign of gray yet. His hands were dirty from his work, so he didn't touch her.

"Not worried, really," she said. "Just concerned."

"Where's that boy of yours?"

"Where else? Football practice."

"He's getting big, isn't he?" her father said. "You better keep a close eye on him, Wendy. One of those cute little girls is going to grab him one of these days."

"Keep an eye on him?" she teased. "I'd rather let him have fun."

"Oh?"

Her father looked up at her, his eyes taking in the thrust of her tits, seeing the dark peaks of her nipples, then down at her flat stomach and rounded hips. His eyes paused on the bit of flesh that was exposed by the slit of her skirt.

"You know how boys are," she said, pleased that he was looking at her body after all this time. "They get horny, Daddy."

"It's not just boys that get horny," he said softly.

"Daddy, why don't you marry again?"

"I don't want to," he replied.

"Then get a girlfriend."

"I don't want a girlfriend, either," he said, turning back to his roses. "Too much trouble. Once you take them out a time or two, the next thing you know, they're moving in with you, and there it is. A man can end up with a wife before he knows what happened."

Wendy squatted at his side. She knew it was a provocative squat, but that was her intention. She didn't keep her knees closed. The skirt fell away from her thigh, almost to her hip. She watched her father trying to avoid looking at her now.

"Daddy," she said softly, "Is there anything… anything at all, that I can do for you?"

She saw his shoulder shake, and placed her hand on it.

"I'll do anything you need, Daddy," she went on softly, a suggestive tone in her voice.

"Maybe you should be the one to marry again, Wendy," he replied after a time. "Maybe you're getting a little horny, yourself."

"No, Daddy." She smiled. "I'm okay."

She caressed his shoulder through his shirt, feeling him tremble.

"Daddy, how do you cope?" she asked. "I mean, I know you're a sensual man. What are you doing for sex?"

Her father shook as his breathing increased, but he poked at the soil and didn't look at her, not answer her.

"You're not… you know, playing with yourself, are you?"

"That was a long time ago, Wendy," he said, his voice very low.

"I know when it was, Daddy," she purred, rubbing his back.

"But to answer your question…" He didn't finish. He had turned to look at her, and saw between her thighs. He saw the crotch of his daughter's panties, saw them puffed out with her cunt. He drew in a deep breath, and stared openly, feeling his cock swell in his pants.

Wendy ran her other hand up her father's thigh, slowly. She stopped before her fingers touched his obviously hard cock. "Daddy… I'm a big girl now."

"I know," he whispered, staring between her thighs.

"And I need more then masturbation now," she went on. "Remember those times you came on my stomach?"

"Wendy, that was a long time…"

"Daddy, it was fun," she said, working her fingers higher on his thigh. "I loved doing those things with you, and you know I did. I never once felt ashamed of it, or of you."

"Wendy…"

Her fingers touched his cock through his pants, and he stopped breathing. She spread her knees wider.

"See how big I am now, Daddy?" she murmured huskily. "I have hair now, Daddy, and nice tits too. I've got a son and no husband. But I don't want a husband, either. You don't want a girlfriend and I don't want a boyfriend. What are we to do, Daddy? We still get horny, don't we?"