M. DeSantis - Her Foxy Mom

Maybe, she thought, there would come a time when any good mother would ask her that of her daughter out of genuine concern. She could picture it:

"Are you feeling okay, Jane?"

"I'm okay, Mom."

"Are you sure? Let me look at you." And then after examining her daughter's appearance, a good mother would ask," Jane, have you been getting your share lately?"

And if her daughter admitted she hadn't been, her mother would admonish her to go out and find a man with a good stiff dick. Maybe turn over the keys to the bedroom for the night.

Charlene sighed again. That time hadn't come – yet. Though she suspected that it did really happen that way in at least a few households.

But not her own. Not yet, at least.

She finished her coffee and got ready for school.

By happy coincidence, that was the day of the teacher's meeting at her school – and therefore all of the classes for the afternoon were called off.

It fit in perfectly with Charlene's scheme.

She met Sal in the usual place – outside the Sixty-eighth Street entrance to the IRT.

"Hi, Charly," he said brightly, kissing her lightly on the cheek and slipping one arm about her. They made a striking couple. Sal was tall and well-built and handsome, with dark, curly hair that almost covered his ears. He squeezed her to him. It was the same, as always.

So far. But what Sal didn't know was what she had in mind for him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Not much. What're you doing this afternoon?"

"Nothing in particular. Got something in mind?"

You don't know the half of it. "Oh, I thought we might go back to my house and just fall out. There might be a good movie on cable TV."

"Suits me." They went into the station and boarded a train to Thirty-third Street, then disembarked and walked to, Charlene's apartment building. They'd done this before and always had ended up watching cable television movies or playing Scrabble. Occasionally, they'd gotten down to it and once that had led to some pretty heavy messing around. But when Charlene had put her hand on the bulge in his pants, Sal had suddenly gotten scared and backed off. He was afraid her mother might find them. Or something.

She'd whacked off till her pussy was sore that night.

"I'll be right back," she said when they.got inside the apartment. "Going to get out of these and into something a little more comfortable. Be at home."

In her own room, she quickly stripped off her school clothes and pulled on a sashed blouse that reached almost to her knees, a pair of black panties and nothing else. She tied a loose knot in the sash so that the sides hugged in just enough to accentuate her trim waist and the soft, gentle flare of her adolescent hips – not to mention the bold, impudent thrust of her twin mounds of quivering, creamy tit flesh.

This time, when she came flouncing down the stairs, there was someone to appreciate it.

Sal looked like his eyeballs were going to roll right out of his head.

"What are you looking at?" Charlene demanded sharply.

"Y-y-y-y-" he stammered.

"Sounds like?" she teased, putting on as though they were playing charades.

Sal stopped, took a deep breath – and then another. Finally, he said, "Charlene, I can see… everything."

She sidled up close to him, slung her arms up over his shoulders and around his neck and pressed the full length of her lovely body to his. She could feel the potent bulge of his cock through his trousers growing down his thigh.

"Complaints?" she whispered, slipping her fingers up through the hair on the back of his head. She let her eyelids half-close, gave her hips a little twist so that her out-thrust little pubic mound would move against his thigh. His eyes were momentarily distant – and then became fearful.

And still, he'd made no move to take advantage of her blatant offer.

Charlene pulled his head down, meeting his still-stammering lips with her own. Her mouth was open in moist, yielding invitation and as soon as the first contact was made, she let her tongue slither out and in between his teeth. His tongue jerked back at her touch, as though burned – but she pursued him.

Within moments, their tongues were dueling on the playing field of their wetly joined mouths. She could feel his dick swelling still harder, throbbing even more insistently within the confines of his regulation jeans. His arms tightened about her back, crushing the luscious swells of her breasts fiercely against his chest.

But then, Sal suddenly pulled his mouth from hers, averting his face.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"We – we shouldn't be doing this," he breathed.

"Shouldn't be – " She stopped, caught her breath "And why not?"

"Because we're liable to get carried away." Sal answered.

"And what's wrong with that?" she demanded.

"Because I-you-"

"Spit it out!"

"Because you're a virgin."

"I don't want to be a virgin," she said carefully. Suddenly, she understood. One of her girlfriend's had told her that she'd lost a boyfriend who wouldn't fuck her because she'd told him she was a virgin. She'd simply let her next man assume she wasn't – until the bloody evidence afterwards told him.

"Charlene!" Sal gasped.

Obviously, she thought, Sal didn't want what he perceived to be the responsibilities and ties of popping a girl's cherry.

Only one thing to do.

Charlene slipped one hand down over his thigh until her fingers had closed about the rigid, pulsating lump of his penis within his pants. Sal gasped and yanked her fingers away from him. "Don't!"

"But why -"

"Because you're a -"

"Maybe I don't want to be," she said. "And maybe I'm not."

His jaw fell. "But you said -"

She went into her act. "I'm sorry, Sal, but I – " She raised her eyes and met his gaze. "I lied."

"You lied? You? I don't believe it!"

"It's true," she said. "I-I don't like to talk about it because it was… against my will."

"You were raped?"

Was it her imagination or did his cock really give an extra spasm?

"When I was thirteen," she continued, improvising effectively. "No one knows except Mom and me – and you, now. Not even Daddy knows."

"Cripes," he whispered.

She was sure: he was more excited. She let her hand slip back down his leg, insinuating it between them. She slowly covered the swollen bar of his prick flesh and gently increased the pressure of her fingers on it. She could see the reaction in the slowly changing expression on his face.

"Why are you telling me now?" he managed to ask.

"Because you'd never have gotten around to making love to me otherwise – and I want you to."

"You want me to?" he asked, as though he were unable to believe what she'd said.

"Yes," she hissed – and tightened her finger grip powerfully about his cock.

Sal groaned, flinched, eyes closing.

"Yes, Sal, I do," she murmured. "Take me!"

"Oh, cripes, cripes," he groaned – but still made no move to do as she'd asked.

So Charlene literally took matters into her own hands. She moved her fingers deftly and his zipper was open. She reached inside with one hand and got her fingers into his briefs. A moment of quick, desperate fumbling and she had his aching cock out into the open air.

And in her cool hand.

"Do you want me to tell you about it?" she asked.

He didn't even ask her what "it" was. He knew. "Yeah," he said. "Tell me."

She wrapped her fingers about the stiff bar of dick flesh, savoring its heat and the steel behind the velvety softness. His cock was a good six inches long and thicker than the handle of her hairbrush dildo. The knob was purpled with blood and his shaft thickened just slightly before disappearing down into the mass of coarse, wary hair matting over the base of his groin. His balls were tight and full with pent-up semen.