Kathy Andrews - Show me more, mom!

Leaning back on the couch, Wendy listened to the shower, imagining her son there, naked, beautiful, soapy with lather. Tony was such a handsome young boy, tall like his father, with dark hair and flashing brown eyes. He was strong, and played football in school. He was a good student, but she had to make him study at times.

She rested a hand on her tit, gently massaging it. She had taken a long bath earlier, and she was naked under her robe. Closing her eyes, she tried to see her son in the shower, to see his young, hard ass, his cock and balls. She could only fantasize about them; she had not seen her son naked for many, many years. Sliding her hand into her robe, she fingered a stiff nipple, making it tingle deliciously. With a soft moan, she slipped her other hand into the folds of her robe, sliding her fingers through the soft blonde hair of her cunt. She toyed with the silky curls, pulling at them gently, feeling the lips of her cunt and clit respond.

She wondered if Tony had ever touched a girl, played with a juicy slit, rubbed a knotted clit. She wondered if he enjoyed the feel of a hot, soft pussy with juices seeping from it. She wondered if he had special girl at school, a girl that let him feel her body, play with it, maybe even fuck her. She didn't believe her son had ever fucked a girl, but perhaps he had felt one. There were always pretty girls hanging around the football players, squealing and laughing and flirting. If a boy was as good on the football field as her son was, he had no problem getting an eager girl behind the bleachers or some other private place.

Wendy didn't feel any jealousy about her son playing with a willing girl. She felt more excited by the possibility than anything else. The very idea that her son was getting his cock up some tight, young cunt excited her very much.

She parted her robe and looked down at her body. Her legs were still very long, still very creamy and satiny smooth. The blonde hair on her pussy was a bit darker than her head, forming a lovely triangle, thick toward the center, thinner as it spread toward her hips. Her stomach was just as flat as it had been years ago, her waist narrow. She had a deeply dimpled belly button, a belly button that had been filled with come-juice often by her father after the first incident.

She gazed down her body remembering once more how her father had always come into the bathroom when she was there, never saying a word, but taking his cock out and jacking off before her, while she finger-fucked herself with vigorous strokes. She always came at least twice, often three times, to her father's single discharge.

The second time he had come to her was the following night. Wendy had made sure her father knew where she was going by giving him a hot glance, then a slight twist of her little ass. When he came to her, she was naked and standing in the stall, the curtains open, waiting breathlessly. Her father had entered, closing the door, and looked at her beautiful young nakedness, opening his pants. He had pulled out his cock, and while Wendy stared at its swelling cock, he lowered his pants to his ankles. His heavy, hairy balls fascinated her. She longed to feel them, to cuddle them and squeeze. But she never touched his balls or his cock, not in those first days.

She had opened her legs wantonly and played with her pussy while he stood before her, watching, jacking off as he had the night before. He pushed the wet slit of his cock to her belly button, and worked his fist back and forth. Wendy could see her father's balls swing back and forth as he jerked his cock, and now and then they would brush the bact of her hand as she rammed her fingers into her cunt. Wendy experience two very strong orgasms that night before her father came, holding the slit of his cock into her belly button. The creamy liquids of his cock spurted into her belly button, coming until her stomach was drenched by come juice, and it ran to her pussy. Wendy had peeled the lips of her smooth cunt open as much as possible, feeling her father's come-juice run over her hard, throbbing clit and hand.

She began to moan softly now as she stretched on the couch, spreading her legs a little to run her palm up and down the slit of her hairy cunt, her mind remembering all those exciting times with her father.

Later, he had taken her small hand and placed it around his cock and held her wrist, mow big her fist back and forth. The hard heat of her father's cock burned her palm, and she came without touching her cunt that time. And again her father had come over her small stomach. When it was over, he kissed the top of her head and pulled his pants up, leaving her without a word.

During those little games they played, her father had watched her grow, saw the first silky hairs sprout on her sugary cunt, watched her little titties swell into mouth-watering shapes, with luscious pink nipples. He had watched her fine ass take form that would give a hard-on to many men later on in her life. He had watched Wendy grow from a gangling little girl to a cock stiffening teenager. And never did he fuck her.

He jacked off on her stomach, filling her belly button, more often letting Wendy jack him off. And he never touched her body, not her tits, not her legs, not her ass, not her cunt. Even after Wendy began to date, to take a boy's cock into her cunt in the back seat of a car, her father never fucked her, never touched her, but let her jack him off three and four times a week, something Wendy was more than happy to do for him.

But if her father was satisfied with that, Wendy was not.

She wanted to fuck him, to feel her father's cock inside her cunt, moving in and out. She wanted her father to grab her hot little ass and ram his thick, long cock up her cunt and fuck her silly. She never told him, and he never attempted it. They jacked off in near silence, with the only words coming from Wendy. "Daddy…" Nothing else.

When she finished high school, she was still jacking her father off, always while she was in the shower. But by then, she had enjoyed the attentions of two steady boyfriends, boys who would thrill her and excite her in the back seat of a car, fucking her to orgasm after orgasm. But all the time they were between her long legs, pounding frantically into her eager teenaged cunt, to Wendy it was her father… her father's cock that created that terrific feeling, her father's cock that squirted and flooded her hungry cunt with hot juices, her father's balls that bounced off her twisting, churning little teenaged ass. It was always her father's hands that removed her panda, lifted her dress. It was always her father's mouth that sucked and licked and pulled at her tingling tits.

Then when she married, her fantasies turned toward her husband. She no longer fantasized about her father until her husband had introduced her to cock-sucking. The first time her husband pushed his cock into her mouth, Wendy had not protested; she accepted it just as eagerly as she had accepted jacking off with her father. However, it did make her start to fantasize about her father again, imagining it was his cock she was sucking, and that it was his come-juice that sprayed her throat. The fantasy of sucking on her father's cock worked just as well as it had when she imagined his cock fucking her cunt. She had come hard and long as her husband flooded her mouth, her throat working to swallow the hot, burning juices.

Realizing her husband preferred her wet mouth to her wet cunt, Wendy gladly sucked him off every time he wanted it. But it wasn't his cock she sucked; it was her father's cock. She never told her husband about her fantasies, and when he drove over the cliff that rainy night, he had died, never knowing what was in her mind all those years.

Now her husband was gone, but her father was still living alone in the same house she grown up in. He was a widower, but still able to take care of himself, living in a decent retirement. She called in often, spoke for hours on the phone, concerned if he needed anything. But they never mentioned the things they had done when she was young. Her father had not said anything during those times, and he said nothing about them now. Nor did Wendy. It was something they simply didn't talk about.