Kathy Andrews: Finally with mom

The evidence was there.

A warm puddle of cum was on his sheet, and Peggy stood at the side of his bed, staring down at it. The sheets had always been moist before, as if he had tried to clean up after himself. But this time, he had not.

Peggy began to shake, her legs rubbery, as she gazed down at her son's jism. She balled her hands tightly, pressing them at her hips. She knew what she was going to do, and the very idea of it caused a ripple of wicked sensation roll along her flesh. This was her son… the juice of his young, hot balls.

Had he left his cum there deliberately, wanting her to find it?

Peggy leaned over, moving a hand toward the small puddle of cum. She ran her fingertip through it, feeling the slippery warmth. Her cunt began to pulsate, become wet again. Lifting her hand, she smelled, and her breath caught when her cunt suddenly sucked inward with tightness, her clit becoming inflamed.

She rubbed her wet finger on her bottom lip, and mewled softly. Her pink tongue slipped out slowly, and she tasted her lip. Peggy's eyes closed with dreamy desire as she licked lightly at her wet finger, tasting her son's cum. With a soft cry, she plunged the finger into her mouth and sucked it, pretending it was his cock. Then, with a sob of unrestrained delight, she jerked her skirt up and shoved her hand into her wispy pantes, her fingers drumming upon her sensitive clit. She lamed ever and shoved her tongue into the puddle cum, licking it up, tasting it, savoring and swallowing softly. She spread her thighs and stuffed two fingers into her cunt fucking it in and out as she neared her mouth against his sheet, sucking and licking at the cock cream her son had left there.

"Ooooohh," she whimpered, her pussy grabbing at her fingers as a hard, hot orgasm rippled through it. She pushed her face into the wetness as her cunt sucked and pulled at her fingers, her ass clenching with the power of her orgasm.

By the time her orgasm faded, her lower face was smeared with boy-cum. She stood up, her face radiant, her cunt still pulsating around her buried fingers. The orgasm had been strong, very strong. It was the strongest she had had in a long time.

And she wanted more.

With a soft squeal, she climbed onto her son's bed, squatting above the moist place. She pulled the crotch of her skimpy panties to one side, exposing her pussy. She lifted the sheet and rubbed the wetness at her cunt, working the sheet inside. She moaned softly as she stiffened her finger with the sheet around it, and began to finger-fuck herself that way. She pretended her finger was her son's cock, the wetness the sheet his spurting cum.

Using two hands at her cunt now, Peggy rammed one finger in and out of her cunt, the fingers of the other hand twisting and rubbing at her distended clit. She rocked her ass about, squealing softly with ecstasy.

"Ooooh, fuck it, baby, fuck it!" she whispered. "Fuck that cunt, honey! Ram it to me! Ohhh, yes, baby, fuck that hot, wet cunt!"

She screamed, biting at her tongue to muffle the sound. Her cunt seemed to pull her sheet wrapped finger deeper inside. The spasms were very tight, gripping her finger in rippling contraction. She cried out time and again until a series of orgasms began to calm. She was weak, very weak, and remained squatting there, but with her sheet-wrapped finger out of her cunt now. Her tits felt very swollen, her nipples extremely sensitive.

After a short rest, she climbed from Ted's bed. Her legs trembled weakly as she looked down at the sheet. The wetness was spreading larger now. She grinned to herself, thinking she would leave the sheet where it was. Perhaps Ted would see what she had done.

Adjusting the crotch of her panties over her cunt, smoothing down her skirt, she left his room. She felt good, better than she had in days. In one way, she had enjoyed a fuck with her son, she felt. Second-hand, but very good, just the same.

It was later, after dinner, when Ted had finished his shower and gone off to bed that Peggy fully understood what she had done, and the strength of her orgasm. She tried to find shame or guilt in her actions, but there was none. As she prepared for bed, she thought how silly she was being. She wondered how many other mothers were going through what she was, if any of them had done what she did. It was kind of stupid, she told herself as she slipped into a gown and then beneath the cool sheets of her bed. Stupid because here she was, wanting what her son had, wanting it badly, finger-fucking herself and fantasizing about him – and all the time her son was in there, pounding on his cock frantically.

Two people, each wanting and needing the same thing, but perhaps in a different way. She needed hard cock because her cunt demanded it, and Ted needed pussy because his juices were hot and young and flowing. He needed some pussy as badly as she needed hard cock, but in a different way. Why did things work so strangely? Why did her son have to hide nad jack off, wanting some pretty girl with a hot cunt, and why did she have to stay in her own room, desperate for cock, almost any cock?

Because, she told herself, mothers don't fuck their sons, you hot-assed bitch!

But Peggy wanted to fuck Ted.

Ted might love it, she told herself. Ted might want the same things she dreamed of, but was unable to experience. Ted might be eager to fuck her. But on the other hand, he might be just like his father.

How could she find out if Ted would fuck her?

"I just hope you can understand, Peggy," Arlene said as she sipped her coffee.

She was sitting across from Peggy in the small cafe, the remains of their light lunch on the table. Peggy wasn't really surprised at what her sister had to say, but she had not expected it. Arlene was not one to confess, especially anything concerning her marriage. There were two years difference between Peggy and Arlene, with Arlene the youngest. They had never been really close, as many sisters were. Once or twice, as teenagers, they had come close to discussing their feelings, but two years was a huge difference during the teenage years. Peggy, being thirty-two now, had been the most surprised of all when Arlene married at eighteen. She had not thought her sister would marry that young.

"I miss my husband," Arlene said, putting her coffee cup down. "He's gone so much. I thought, you being single all these years, you would understand more than anyone else."

"Understand what, Arlene?" Peggy asked. Arlene became nervous, fidgeting in her chair, looking down, then around the small place, but never directly at Peggy. "It's kind of hard to talk about. I thought you'd be the best one, more understanding."

"Just say it," Peggy urged. "I've never seen you so nervous, or blushing so much."

"Well, it is a little embarrassing," Arlene said in a soft, almost shy voice. "The fact is… well, Peggy, I'm not getting enough!"

"Enough what?" Peggy asked.

"Oh, Peggy, you know!"

"I do?" Peggy asked, puzzled. "Arlene, stop talking in circles and tell me what it is. Maybe I can help. But I won't know until you tell me what the problem is. Is it some female problem, Arlene?"

"You could say that," her sister replied.

"Have you discussed it with your husband?"

"I can't," Arlene answered. "He's gone most of the time, you know that."

"Come on, talk about it," Peggy said. "Maybe it's something I can help you with."

"I doubt that," Arlene said. "You're not a… man."

"You're saying a man might be able to help you?"

Arlene's eyes became moist, and a tear rolled down one smooth cheek. Peggy watched her clench her hands tightly. Peggy placed her warm palm over her sister's fist, concerned.

"I think we better go someplace else," Peggy said softly. "This appears serious, and needs a private place."