Rex Taylor - Mother lover

"Go away!" Cathy yelled, and she tried to run. Her legs were rubber and she merely stumbled, staggering at first, then dropping to her knees upon the sand. Before she could pick herself up, Jennifer was kneeling at her side, offering a smile and a hand. "Leave me alone," Cathy mumbled. "I don't want you around."

"Come on," Jennifer wheedled, touching Cathy's shoulder. "There's no harm done."

"Screw you, too," Cathy told her. "I just want to be by myself for a while. Go away."

"It's no good being alone," Jennifer countered. "Not when you have friends." Her fingers trailed down Cathy's arm, and the blonde girl could feel them, warm, almost electric, through the flannel of the oversized shirt she wore. And then her hand was cuddled gently inside Jennifer's and the

red-haired teenager was moving closer.

"Knock it off," Cathy said, her tongue growing thicker so that her words were an almost indistinguishable mutter. "I know what you're after, and you can't have it."

"You're too suspicious, Cathy. I just want you to feel better. That's all."

"Sure-just like you made Chris feel better." Cathy tried to squirm away, but there was no strength in her body.

"Came off it," Jennifer said commandingly. "You're making too much out of nothing. So you saw your boy friend balling Penny. And so you saw me adding my two cents' worth. It didn't mean anything. Besides-it was your fault in the first place. If you hadn't jerked off Penny's guy, none of it would have happened."

"I didn't jerk him off! He flopped onto me and-"

"And you got your hand on his cock and made him shoot his wad. Penny was only getting what was due her. Besides, I heard her tell Chris not to shoot off inside her, so he'd have wasted his load anyway. I just popped in to give them both a little assistance. C'mon, Cathy. Be liberal. Be modem. It's what the sexual revolution is all about in the first place. Chris never gave you exclusive rights to his body, did he?"

Cathy wriggled on the sand, her head turned away from Jennifer's coaxing voice. She knew now that she was about three-quarters drunk, and the alcohol seemed to have a reserve of potency building inside her body that would put her over the line very soon.

Jennifer's head moved closer, and she took Cathy's chin in her hand, pulling the uneasy girl's face around. "Let's kiss and make up," she suggested in the faintest whisper of a voice,

bringing her lips in to seal the bargain.

Cathy winced at the first touch of Jennifer's mouth upon her own, at the wet warmth of the open lips which sucked at hers, and she whined wordlessly as her taste buds picked up the unmistakable fragrance of male jizz in Jennifer's kiss. No wonder-Chris had fountained his load into Jennifer's sucking mouth and his surplus had coated her lips and chin-and now, in a sense, Cathy was receiving it for her own, through an intermediary. She hated the idea! She wanted to break away, to run, to hide, but she couldn't. There seemed to be no power at all in her young body now, and she was but a plastic toy in Jennifer's hands. "Please," she tried to say. "I don't want to." But Jennifer's white, capped teeth were chewing ever so gently on Cathy's lower lip, and now Jennifer had her arms around Cathy's body, hugging her tight, imprinting Cathy with the contours of her own frame, and the two girls lay in a tangle of twined arms and legs. Cathy moved her arms, intending to push Jennifer away, but she realized to her own shock that she was instead embracing the red-haired girl, hugging her in return, and that her teeth were parting to allow Jennifer's tongue entrance.

I'm drunk, Cathy told herself. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. That's it. I've let the booze overcome my morality. Of course! It was such an obvious explanation. She closed her eyes and began to suck Jennifer's tongue as though it were a cock plumbing the wetness of her mouth.

Jennifer's full boobs, nestling inside her blouse free and unsupported, brushed again and again upon Cathy's halter-covered tits, and their bare legs wrapped tantalizingly as they rolled upon the sand, kissing, embracing. Another moment drifted by, and now it was Cathy's tongue that was seeking its way into Jennifer's mouth, finding itself accepted happily.

Cathy closed her eyes, kissing and being kissed, touching and being touched, and it no longer mattered that she could blame her situation upon Demon Drink. Explanations and justifications were of no importance whatsoever now, with Cathy high from liquor and sex alike, finding a new intoxication in the heady combination.

She made a soft cooing sound as she felt Jennifer's fingers intruding through the cut-off legs, seeking the hairy bulge of Cathy's pussy. The fingers made contact, tugging and curling among the abundant locks of pussy fur, and they slid irresistibly onto the lips of Cathy's snatch, parting the pink gateway, slipping inside. Cathy tightened her thighs upon Jen's hand, wetting those fingers with her free-flowing juices, and she moaned as the fingers stole farther and farther into the honeyed treasure of her cunt. Her own hands went to the buttons of Jennifer's blouse, undoing them, flinging the shirt front open, taking hold of the full-sized tits inside.

And now Cathy was rolling on the ground, seeking the position of power, using her body to pin down a perfectly willing Jennifer, pausing for one fleeting second to wonder at the strangeness of it all.

Cathy had never, never ever, done anything like this before-not even at boarding schools where girl/girl love was almost as common as eating supper in the dining hall. In her days of nervous virginity, she had sometimes stopped outside a closed door in a dorm hallway to listen to the sounds of female passion seeping out of a darkened room, and her chaste, frightened body had reacted in a variety of ways. For one thing, her nipples had grown pebble-stiff as she eavesdropped, and there

had often been the telltale weakness of the knees and dampening in the crotch that she now realized were the unmistakable signs of her sexual arousal. And once, when she was thirteen, there had been a roommate-a girl named Valerie-who seemed to take some delight in touching Cathy, in the demure brushing of fingers across skin or hair.

That had been a nerve-racking experience indeed, for Cathy, though virginal, was not quite innocent. She knew what Valerie's apparently neutral caresses had meant, and she had been scared silly. Afraid, yes, that Valerie might tire of subtle means and institute a forthright campaign of seduction, but afraid, too, that she might respond willingly.

Her own ambiguity on the matter filled her with the most dread. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed having Valerie brush her hair or tease it into stunning coiffures that never went outside the walls of their shared quarters. And the feather-light touch of Valerie's fingers and hands had been sensual and provocative, imparting much the same feeling that Cathy sometimes had when she stood naked in a shower room full of girls after gym class, surreptitiously watching them, comparing their bodies with her own, wondering if they had the same sensitivity in their budding boobs that she had, wondering if their pussies also grew moist and warm upon occasion-so moist and warm that only the application of fingers and hands could return them to normality.

And at those times she wondered, too, what it would be like to lay hands upon one of those other girls, to test with her own fingers the rubbery stiffness of nipples, the degree of heat transmitted by a thinly flossed cunt mound. She knew that it was wrong, that it was immoral, that it was a perversion of normal sex, but she also recalled the

muffled moans and sighs she had heard coming from other girls' rooms, and she could not explain to herself how something so obviously satisfactory to its participants could also be sinful.