M. DeSantis - Her Foxy Mom

"Oh, Mom?"

"Yes, dear."

"I don't know if I remembered to mention it to you, but Derek and I fucked each other silly last week. In your bed."

"Oh, that's nice, dear. I hope you didn't make a mess of the bed linens."

"No, Mom."

"That's good." Her mother continues paging through the magazine.

"Something funny?"

Derek's voice brought her mind back to the moment. "Oh, no," she said quickly, wiping the smile from her face. "Why don't you sit back and get comfortable?"

"Yeah, sure – and uh, why don't you, too?"

She made as if to sit next to him – thoroughly enjoying the panic in his face – and then walked to the other side of the low-slung coffee table and sat in the matching love seat there.

Derek seemed to bye relaxing just a little bit. "Charlene," he began slowly, as though picking his words with the utmost care, "there's something I – cripes!"

The word was torn from him by what Charlene was doing – and exhibiting. She'd sat comfortably back in the love seat and calmly proceeded to cross her legs. The miniskirt, already indecently short, crawled up to somewhere in the vicinity of her hipbones – leaving her just this side of naked from the crotch down.

"Why, what in the world is the matter with you, Derek?" she asked, as if she hadn't the faintest idea.

"Why, you're – you – but I can see -"

"You can see what?" she cooed.

"Your, uh – you're showing me your pussy!" he finally blurted.

"So?" she demanded. "It's not as if you've never seen it before or kissed it – or licked it – or sucked it – or fucked it – or -"

"That was last week!"

"It's not exactly repulsing you, now, is it?" she teased, staring fixedly – and pointedly – at the throbbing lump at the crotch of his pants.

He didn't have an answer for that one.

Charlene raised her eyes to his and slowly uncrossed her long legs. She kicked off the flat thongs she'd been wearing and then raised her legs up and folded them till she was sitting cross-legged on the love seat. Her sweet little slit stared at Derek from across the low coffee table. Fringed with light, downy red hairs, the lips themselves glistening with the dew of her arousal, her gash looked like it was on fire – a firebox.

"Don't you like it now?" she asked.

Derek swallowed nosily. "Cripes," he breathed, leaning forward without consciously willing it to get a closer look. "Cripes," he repeated.

"Wouldn't you like to come on over here and say hello to my puss?" she asked, as if it were somehow dissociated from her.

"Jeez, yes," he whispered, lips dry.

"My puss sure has missed you," she continued, slipping one hand down over her trim waist to find and trace the flare of her nubile hips. The hand moved down to her thighs – and then she trailed one wellmanicured fingernail up over the sensitive flesh of her upper, inner thigh until it reached the flat crease where the thigh joined her crotch. There that single digit moved forlornly up and down, lightly caressing the outer edge of her swelling labia as if to console it. "You have no idea how badly my little puss has missed you. Why don't you want to come over here and kiss puss hello?"

Derek started to stand – and then caught himself. What if her mother came in while he was kissing her puss hello?

"Aw, poor little puss," Charlene crooned, looking down at her wideopen crotch. "All your hopes up and then he chickened out. Poor, poor little puss. I'll see if I can help puss a little bit."

And she proceeded to "help puss a little bit."

First, Charlene began tracing the end of that single fingertip around and around over the outermost edge of her fully swollen pussy lips. As she did so, the ache in her tits seemed to grow, become more severe, more demanding. She simply couldn't help bringing one hand up to rub the twin mounds of firm young flesh. She took a nipple between thumb and forefinger, tweaking the starting little spike through the material of her tanktop.

There was no way she could suppress the little twitch of her taut young hips.

She raised her eyes to see Derek's reaction. For all she could tell by looking at him, he might have been in a seizure. He didn't seem to be moving. He just sat there, staring at that single lonesome finger moving around and over the lips of her slit. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths beneath the little Izod alligator on his sport shirt and his prick rose and fell in sharp little jerks within the suddenly confining material of his pants.

Charlene began to spread her cunt lips, dipping just the tip of that finger inside barely far enough inside to wet it – and then lifted her finger to her lips. She sucked on that finger – but not until she'd first licked it with long, slow, sensuous wrigglings of her tongue

… as if it were a cock.

Derek groaned.

She did it again, this time thrusting the finger all the way inside and moving it around inside her. Her eyes closed at the feel of it and she could hear Derek's breath rasping through his teeth. She was getting even more turned on, knowing he was watching. Charlene had whacked herself off before – to be sure, almost daily since she'd turned eleven – but it had never given her so much pleasure. Knowing Derek was watching, knowing it was getting to him, only intensified the pleasure and excitement of it for her.

She worked that solitary finger in and out of her clutching pussy rapidly. Every time she thrust it inside, the heel of her thumb came up hard and flat against her clitoris, sending an additional shock of pleasure coursing through her body.

She forced her eyes open. Charlene saw Derek staring at her cunt, leaning forward so far he appeared on the verge of toppling forward onto the coffee table.

"Wouldn't you like to kiss puss?" she whispered to him, drawing out the sibilants till they were a soft, susurant hissss… as in kisssss.

He groaned again.

"Poor Derek," she said to her slash as she pulled the finger back till just the tip was still inside it. "We've given him a terrible hard-on. That isn't very nice now, is it, puss? Of course not. We wouldn't want Derek to think we were cock-teasers. He might never kiss and lick and suck and fuck puss again if he thought that."

She yanked the fingertip from her twat suddenly. It came out with a definite popping sound. She placed both hands on her hips.

"We have to do something for Derek."

Charlene got to her feet and strode quickly over to stand in front of Derek. The backs of her calves were pressing against the coffee table's edge. "Now you just sit back there, Derek," she said firmly, placing her hands on his broad shoulders and pushing him back on the love seat," and we'll take care of this little problem we've given you. After all, you must have a problem." She stared straight down at his cock bulge within his pants. "After all, you must have a problem -you're all swollen."

With the lithe grace of a fit seventeen-year-old, Charlene got to her knees. Her calves were beneath the coffee table and her hands were at the waist of his trousers. Her fingers moved deftly, despite her inexperience at such things, despite her eagerness. In a moment, his pants were opened and she was reaching inside the slit of his highfashion, blue-and-red striped briefs to find the long, thick, heavy length of his meat.

Derek watched, slack-jawed, as she thrust her hand into his groin and gurgled when Charlene's cool fingers began caressing and gripping his prick. He knew he should stop her, force her to cease and desist. But he couldn't make his lips move to say the words, couldn't bring his hands to grasp her wrist and pull her hand away from his achingly hard erection, couldn't make himself twist and shift away from her exquisite touch.

"C'mon, Derek," she whispered, her breath coming faster with anticipation of what was to come, "you have to help out some, too. Lift up now."