E. Make - Maidenhood Lost

He also has his father's taste for bosomy women, she smiled as she paused to admire the jutting forms of her own breasts before her dresser mirror.

And Kari was definitely well endowed with the attributes that would draw the eye of any second-story man. She could easily visualize her son's hands moving over those melon-like orbs of flesh. She could see the sparkling delight in his dark brown eyes as he leaned to kiss and suck at one of Kari's stiff, young nipples.

Suddenly her thoughts jolted her. She should be reacting totally differently. Instead of that protective feeling she had thought she would feel at this moment, she found the thought of her son balling the young blonde sexy, very sexy!

You ought to be ashamed of yourself, she reprimanded herself. But she only smiled as she pulled off her dress and undergarments, then lay naked on top of the bed. I wonder if Neal inherited his father's abilities to please a woman?

Kari didn't seem to be wearing any traces of disappointment, she remembered the girl's smiling face. She glanced up to the ceiling, seeing the blonde naked and lying on her back on the living room floor. She was posed with thighs wide, exposing the moist cleft of her young pussy. Neal, as naked as the girl, stood above her, his young cock shafted from his hairy groin, jerking and twitching with its youthful vitality. And at the very tip of his swollen glans welled a clear drop of preseminal fluid.

While she watched through her mind's eye, her son slowly drifted to his knees. The blonde reached up and lovingly caressed the rigid pole of his manhood. She tugged lightly at his prick, easing him atop her. Her eager fingers guided the turgid crown of sex toward the waiting lips of her willing cunt.

Stop it! she ordered herself, rolling to her side. You're back home now. You've got to get sex off you mind!

She closed her eyes and held them tightly closed for several seconds, erasing the last vestiges of her vision. She had no right even to imagine her son's sexual activities. He was a young man now. What Neal did was his business, not hers.

Her eyes opened and she stared at herself in the dresser's mirror. Her thirty-eight years didn't show on the supple, naked woman she gazed at. She admitted there was a slight sag to the ball-like shapes of her breasts that hadn't been there ten years ago. But there wasn't half as much droop to her tits as with all the young girls who ran around braless today. In fact, the slight pendulous drift of her breasts seemed to make them that much more bouncy and swaying. They were still firm and proud and their dark nipples still were uptilted.

She had kept her figure too. Unlike many of the women her age, she had carefully watched the calories and maintained a schedule of light exercise to work off any excess weight. Her stomach was taut and flat. And her legs were still shapely. It was a body that could still attract young men. Jeff had proven that. He had thought she was no more than twenty-five. She wondered what he would have done if he had realized she was thirteen years older than him.

Still the body of a young woman, she repeated to herself, still the desires of a young woman.

As she admired her own lithe form in the mirror, her imagination began to work again. Naked, his young body brown from the summer sun, her son stood there at the side of the bed. He didn't speak but gazed down, his eyes loving over her bare flesh. Hunger, sexual hunger burned in his eyes.

"I want you, Neal," she whispered softly. "I want you inside me."

She reached out and cupped the dangling hose of his sex. He came to life beneath her fingertips. She watched him thicken, pulsing and throbbing, the fat head of his young cock jerking upward so that she stared directly into its slitted mouth. Tenderly, her hand gripped that rigid shaft stroking up and down as she reveled in its warm hardness.

Still without a word, but with that little twisted smile on his lips, her son edged himself beside her on the bed. He didn't need to speak, his hands said everything as they palmed under the shimmering domes of her breasts. Gently his finger's circled the half-bowls of flesh.

She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she lost herself in the soothing caresses of his hands. Warmth welled within those twin balls of aroused flesh. His touch seemed to make them swell bigger and bigger with an aching need. Then his mouth was there, his laving tongue and sucking lips tending to those desires. All the time his palms and fingers never stopped in their marvelous manipulations.

As she writhed there, her crooning sighs singing out the deep satisfaction of his actions, one of his hands drifted downward over the fluttering flesh of her belly. His fingertips paused as they reached the silken strands of her yearning pussy. He was unsure, she realized. But her own hand directed his lower so that he lightly stroked the trembling knoll of her sex.

His fingers taunted there ever so close, yet so far from the need-ridden channel of her body. He squeezed and rubbed, his massaging hand stirring a flood of womanly fluids within her. She moaned softly, her pelvis moving up and down on it in accord.

An inquisitive finger finally wedged between the pouting lips of her labia. Inward it wiggled working through the scalloped folds of her inner lips and into the burning heat of her vagina. He twisted and turned the digit, impaling her belly, swirling it over the throbbing walls of her cunt. Then he easily pumped it in and out of the sexual well of her body.

But she didn't want that teasing finger. She wanted him.

Gently tugging at his adamantine rod, she summoned him. He came, easing between her spread thighs and sliding atop the voluptuous bed her body presented for him.

His weight pressed her into the mattress. It was far from an uncomfortable feeling. She liked the feel of a man atop her as she lay on her back, her legs opened to receive the rigid offering of his cock.

Expertly, her hand guided his glans into the waiting gash of her cunt. He sagged it into her in one quick thrust of his hips. Up it plunged, cramming its way into the caressing liquid warmth of her cunt. She squeezed down around him, relishing the marvelous, virile feel of him.

Her hands ran up his back, savoring the young, tense muscles of his body. There was power there, youthful power gathered within him, ready to explode at any minute.

And when it did, her body responded. Her pelvis arched and fell with each deep-grinding stroke of his pistoning cock. He rammed it into her, feeding her inch upon inch of his magnificent cock. He threw his hips into her, cramming her hot hole of desire with rigid dick.

Harder and harder he poled into the worshipping furrow of her pussy. She moaned out for him, pleading with him to give it to her even harder, even deeper. His young buttocks, as hard as boulders, jerked up and down in a pounding rhythm as he strived to oblige her every wish.

She was skewered, impaled by her son's cock and she loved it. She existed for that pistoning prod and nothing else. She was his, her whole body open to him, willing to provide for his every need. She couldn't get enough of his poling prick, She couldn't get enough of her son.

Deeper and deeper his cock slammed up into the humid recesses of her lust channel. She opened her body and accepted him. Her thighs throbbed. Her vagina ached. Her whole body centered on that never-ceasing, in-out sluicing of his sex.

She was close, so close…

No! she shouted to herself. The vision in the mirror evaporated; Neal's hunching body shimmered and faded, leaving only her own reflection.

She stared at herself, her body flushing with guilt. One of her hands had crept between her thighs. Her index finger was firmly entrenched in the soggy wetness of her cunt. Even as she watched, she moved that finger in and out of her body in a desperate attempt to relieve the mounting lusts she held.