Nell Morrow - Her Peak Of Passion

As Jo reached down to cup his buttocks and hold his tightly to her, Tim lay still for a moment. Then, unable to hold himself back any longer, he began suddenly to move in jerking strokes, swiftly increasing his motions, building and building until his straining pelvis moved powerfully against her belly with each urgent forward thrust of his body. Beneath him, Jo arched and gyrated her naked ass-cheeks in frenzied abandon, mewling out her pleasure and want in the obscene tirade.

"Yes, yes. Fuck me, Tim. Fuck me harder! Fuck me deeper!"

Now her hands jerked wildly at his squirming buttocks. Now they danced up and down his back. Now her fingernails clawed like a cat's at the skin of his spine. Then she moved lower to again seize the white mounds of his buttocks, to cup them tightly and put his blood-swollen cock deeper and deeper into the aching depths of her lewdly surrendered pussy.

And as her climax gradually approached, Jo felt the devastating waves of ecstasy sweeping like wind over her voluptuously thrashing body. "Oh God," she moaned. "Oh God! It's good! I'm going to come. I'm going to! I'm commmmming, commmmming!"

Now Jo gave up at last, surrendered completely to the surreal pleasure of the moment, feeling the warm orgasmic wetness seep forth abundantly in her loins, bathing her throbbing cuntal passage with slickening moisture.

At almost the same instant she felt the terrible tension increase in the young boy's body as Tim zoomed to his own explosively shattering climax, arching his buttocks up one last time and then plunging his spurting penis so deeply it seemed to fill every inch of her wildly spasming cuntal orifice.

"I'm coming too!" he groaned. "I'm coming too, Miss Daniels!" A deep shudder shook the boy's body as though to match her own continued bucking undulations as his warm seminal fluids spurted forth to unite with the pungent, searing wetness deep inside her vagina.

The impassioned couple clung to one another for a long and unforgettable moment. Then with a last deep sigh of contentment, young Tim let his body go slack, and he rolled-hardly more than half conscious now-from the still quivering figure of Jo Daniels. Giving out with a little gasp of remorse at the loss of contact with his body, Jo purred softly and distantly, "Oh, Tim. Oh my dear Tim." Then she closed her eyes. Her breasts heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Those last few moments she'd completely forgotten to breathe.

Jo knew somehow… dimly… vaguely… that Tim was putting his clothes back on. She knew he would be gone in a few minutes. She could understand that now he would want to be alone. He would need some time to think, to adjust to his new status. She opened her eyes for a moment, gazing at him blearily, then she closed them again. She almost slept. It seemed she was just drifting off when she heard the click as the door was closed.

It was only then that reality returned. She sat up suddenly, staring across the room at the door that had shut behind the young boy she'd just corrupted and violated. A small teardrop filling each of her eyes, she gazed silently after him. They spilled lightly down her cheeks as she lowered her head, looking down almost in disbelief at her own obscene nakedness, realizing the seriousness of what she'd done. She was astonished, ashamed, almost sick-yet satisfied as she'd rarely been in her life.

She'd fallen asleep again, not long after Tim's departure, right there where she lay naked on the couch.

When she aroused herself she felt satisfied, but then the guilt flooded through her body. It was the old story, she told herself. In the heat of passion a person will forget all that they're ever taught; all their moral code disappears, then afterwards they feel remorse.

In her training as a psychologist she knew all about this. Oh, she had counseled so many students at the university in this particular subject. But who would counsel her? She knew it was not normal, her desire for young boys. Yet, really she could see no wrong in it. Why then should she feel so much guilt?

She pondered the question for days.

There had to be a solution, but there seemed to be none. She began losing sleep.

The first really visible signs of her imminent collapse appeared on Tuesday. She should have recognized them immediately. By Wednesday it should have been apparent to Jo that she had a serious problem to deal with. The respite her secretly lusting flesh had been granted as a result of her interlude with Tim had ended. On a purely physical level, her need had returned. Her body, satisfied once, demanded satisfaction again. And as translated from her body to her mind, this need was manifested in the fantasies. The fantasies returned, they were with her always, even more vivid and perverse and devastating than before.

She would lie naked on her back on the couch, just as she had that first night. Also naked, kneeling over her, Tim would gaze hungrily down at the open invitation of her cunt. Gently, so gently, he would place his hands on the quivering flesh of her white inner thighs, his thumbs on the sensitive edges of her moistened cuntal lips. He would draw them slowly open, revealing gradually the inner treasures of her pussy, completely exposing the little rosy bud of her clitoris.

The agony of waiting would be almost more than she could bear. Then he would lower his head slowly toward her belly. He would slide down on the couch, his face between her thighs.

Suddenly his tongue would flick outward and into lewdly tantalizing contact with the tiny throbbing protuberance there between her exposed pussy-lips. He would lick it, just as that one night he had licked the hard buds of her little nipples. He would kindle again those flames that had consumed her…

Just thinking about it was enough to fully arouse her. The lurid visions were with Jo where ever she went now. At work she would drift away. Something would startle her and snap her back, and she wondered shamefully if anything in her expression had hinted at what was going on inside her. At night, sitting alone in her apartment, afraid to even go out, she suffered hysterically. Her sleep was a series of erotic dreams.

By Thursday a week had passed and she was almost going out of her mind. By Friday evening she could stand it no longer. She started to masturbate; then she changed her mind. She decided in her frenzy, to do something she had never done in all her years. She would go out to a restaurant or maybe even a bar. She would see if she could get herself picked up by a man.

Jo put on her most daring miniskirt and a thin sleeveless sweater. She wore no brassiere, and the material clung almost lewdly to her breast around the little visible protrusions of her nipples. She wore no nylons, just a pair of sandals on her feet. Beneath the short skirt she wore her skimpiest, sexiest lace panties. She applied her perfume generously. She let her hair hang loose and free over her bare shoulders. Before leaving her apartment she had a generous drink of her whiskey. Then she went out, got into her car, and drove toward the main drag that ran alongside the local college campus. She was trying to decide where she should go as she stopped at a red light. She was sure she would have her best chance at a bar several blocks down the street, a place frequented primarily by the college faculty and graduate students, with a few fraternity members on occasion. Then, waiting for the light to turn, Jo's eyes widened as she saw the long-haired, bespectacled boy standing in the crosswalk before her, staring dazedly through the windshield at her.

It was Tim, and, recognizing him, Jo realized that it was only natural enough that she should find him here. It was eight-thirty; the restaurant where he worked was just up the street. It couldn't have worked out more perfectly if she had planned it herself. She hadn't planned it! She hadn't even thought about it, not even subconsciously. It was an accident. A coincidence. An evil twist of fate.