Rex Taylor - Mother lover

Gwen looked around her typing table, searching vainly for her cigarettes. All she could find was an empty pack which she had crumpled earlier in the evening. "Are my cigarettes on the table, Chris?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence inside the living room.

He looked at the coffee table before him and shook his head. Gwen stood up, and he had to repress a whistle of appreciation at the smooth action of her legs. They were just as long, just as shapely as Cathy's, though her mother was built on a slightly more voluptuous frame, with bigger tits and an ass that was, if anything, just a bit nicer than Cathy's.

She walked across the room and he followed her

with his eyes, drinking in her every movement. "I had a fresh pack somewhere," she said almost inaudibly. "Where did I put them?" And then- "Oh, there they are!" and she went to the end table right beside where Chris was sitting.

Gwen bent over to pick up her package of Winstons, and as she did, her ass poked high and round into the air in such a way and in such a position that Chris couldn't help but stare at it. He closed his eyes for an instant and opened them again to find that vision of shapeliness still there, and so he took this as a divine beneficence. He reached out with one hand and smoothed it over the curve of her nearest buttcheek, testing the texture of her nylon shorts, feeling the warmth of the ass which they covered.

Gwen's eyes opened in surprise at Chris' laying-on of hands, and they opened even wider when she felt him slide a finger through her crotch, rubbing her from asshole to perineum to cunt through the thin barrier of her nylon shorts. She stood up slowly, straightening her back, and she put a cigarette between her lips very carefully, lighting it before she turned to look at Chris.

"Uh…" she began, startled to note that his finger was still touching her warm crotch. His hand dropped when she made the sound, and he looked up at her innocently, with a smile that was almost sweet, ingenuous even. And Gwen didn't know what to say. He was young enough to be her own son, and if she flared out at him in anger for daring to feel her up, she might stunt his sexual development irremediably.

Besides, she thought, what should she have expected? He was young, obviously he had sexual desires, and she was an older woman, admittedly, but an older woman wit a body that was still first-rate. It was a classic situation.

Good God, she thought, look at the way I'm dressed, too! No bra, clingy knit top which, thank the Lord, isn't quite see-through, and shorts that look like I was born wearing them. And I guess I must have given him a pretty good shot when I bent over. Obviously he thinks I'm trying to seduce him. The poor guy was probably scared half to death right now.

I wonder what she's gonna do, Chris thought idly. She didn't scream or anything. And she hasn't told me to get the hell out.

He looked at Gwen and she looked at him, neither of them saying a word. Chris broke the impasse. He stood up, saying, "It really is getting late. I should be going home. My dad will think I've piled the car up somewhere."

Gwen nodded, chewing absentmindedly on her lower lip. She hoped she'd done the right thing. It was so important that a young boy, making his first sexual overtures, be treated carefully-neither encouraged nor turned off completely, and she couldn't know yet if she had reacted correctly to his exploratory touching. Sometimes she wished she'd had a son as well as a daughter-it would have given her much better insight on child psychology.

"Well," she said, "good night, Chris," and she followed him to the door.

"Good night, Mrs. Corby," he called as he went around the front of his car. "Tell Cathy I'll see her sometime soon."

"I'll be sure to do that" Gwen replied, her heart beating with a rap-tap-tap of justification. Possibly-no, probably-she had handled the little incident in a calm adult fashion that would not leave permanent scars on Chris' psyche.

"I don't give a shit," Cathy growled across the breakfast table.

Gwen regretted her daughter's tendency to use gutter language, but in modern America even twelve-year-old virgins with prim angelic faces habitually spoke like truck drivers, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could, however, remind Cathy of her manners. "I was just telling you what he said, not ordering you to give him a hearty welcome. And really, Cathy, he seems to be a very nice boy."

"He's a grade-A asshole," Cathy replied bluntly.

Gwen finished her morning coffee and got up from the table. Her cigarettes were once again in the living room, and she went to fetch them. Bending to get the pack of Winstons from the coffee table, she looked towards the sofa and saw something that should not have been there. "Oh, my," she called, "I'm afraid your young friend lost his wallet last night." Gwen picked it up, dislodging the wallet from its wedged-in position between the back of the sofa and the cushion. "Do you want to take it by his place?" she suggested, at the same time flipping it open to check the driver's license and other identifications inside, simply to make sure that it did indeed belong to Chris, though it could have been the property of no other person.

"No, I don't want to take his goddamned wallet to him!" Cathy yelled, accidentally spooning an extra portion of sugar into her tea. She put the cup to her lips and tasted it, grimacing at the unexpected super sweetness.

"Never mind," Gwen called back in a voice that was suddenly very hoarse and choked-off. "I have to go out. I'll take it myself."

Cathy heard the front door slam shut, and she dashed into the living room. Gwen was already

getting into her VW outside. "You gonna be gone long?" Cathy asked, but her mother didn't hear or, if she did hear, did not answer. The engine started up and Gwen backed down to the highway, taking off in a speedy lunge of automotive power that would have drawn cheers at any drag strip in the country. Cathy shrugged and went back inside. She poured out the too-sweet tea and fixed herself a fresh cup which she made sure to close with the proper amount of sugar.

There was a knock at the front door, and she put down her cup.

Chris was standing on the porch, looking through the screen door. "Hi," he said, "I think I left my-"

"You did, but it isn't here now. Gwen left with it a few minutes ago. She said she was gonna stop by your place."

"Oh, was that her in the blue Volks? I thought it was. She mustn't have seen me when I waved."

"Probably not," Cathy agreed. "If you hurry, maybe you can catch her."

"It's not that important, if she's planning on leaving the wallet at our house."

Cathy made a half-turn. She was wearing only a thin robe, and she realized that it wasn't entirely pulled shut, so he must have had one last look at her goodies through the screen door. Tough shit. "Look," she told him, "why don't you run along now? I have to take a bath."

"Going somewhere?"

"Swimming with Jen, this afternoon."

"Why take a bath if you're going swimming?"

"Why do you need to know? You don't own me. What's the matter, anyway? Is that bitch Penny out of heat already? I supposed you'd be off humping her this morning."

"Cathy, listen!" He took hold of the door

handle and pulled it open, standing framed in the doorway.

"If you come inside, you'll be trespassing," she warned him. "I have every right to shoot you. It's the unwritten law."

"The unwritten law is all about husbands being able to shoot guys who screw their wives."

"Too bad Penny isn't married," she snapped.

He came inside, shutting the door behind him. "So shoot me," he said.

"I don't have a gun. But if you're still here when I finish my bath, I'll call the cops."

"They'll have to come over from the mainland on the ferry like everyone else. And by then it'll be too late;"