Kathy Andrews Collection

by Kathy Andrews

  She was reminded of when she was a young girl, not much older than Ted. She had been a hot little piece, she thought with a smile.

  Everyone seemed to know she was hot, too. At least the boys in her school. There must have been something about her, her appearance, her expression, that told them she had one hot little ass on her. At the time, she wasn’t sure what told them, and even now, wasn’t entirely sure. Eyes would follow her everywhere, watching her tight little ass sway, the flash of long, slender thigh, or the swelling shape of her sprouting little tits. Peggy had wanted cock then, wanted it badly. Yet, for some reason she couldn’t understand, she remained a virgin until she married. A virgin, at least, when it came to her cunt.

  She had certainly jacked off enough boys in cars, or inside darkened movie theaters, and once or twice behind a building. The boys always wanted more, much more, from her. But Peggy refused, getting them off with her hand when they became almost uncontrollable. Jacking boys off had been fun, though…

  She moved to the window, looking out at the bright spring day. The grass was green, and flowers were blooming. It was a beautiful day, one that promised an early summer. It was weather for shorts, for bikinis, the beach or the mountains. Soon, the sweet, pretty girls would be running around wearing almost nothing, and the boys following, like little pussy dogs in heat, tongues hanging out and cocks upright with hardness. They would all play their little games, then the boys would find someplace to jack off, maybe brag about whose little panties they had gotten into. Most of it was lies, of course, but most boys had to be that way.

  She wondered if her son would be one of them.

  She smiled at the thought.

  She would enjoy watching him going through the rites of spring with a pretty little thing. She would enjoy watching him very closely, but on the other hand, she didn’t want him to suffer the way she remembered it at his age. Boys, it seemed, suffered more than girls. But that was wrong, Peggy knew. She had suffered horribly, wanting one of those young hard cocks in her pussy, fucking her hard and deep. She had used her own hands and fingers often enough, and suspected most of her girlfriends had, too. Those times she had jacked boys off, her little cunt would boil with need, drenched her panties. A few times, she actually came, although she never let the boys know that. After jacking them off, she would wipe her hand on anything handy, but spend the rest of the day smelling of her hand, her fingers. The scent excited her, kept her in a state of delicious arousal for hours.

  Then she married.

  Everything was turned loose, and she found out just how hot she really was.

  Peggy became insatiable, fucking her husband almost into exhaustion. At first, he seemed happy with what the had, then he began to turn away, complaining of tiredness, and eventually accusing her of being a nympho. That wasn’t true, Peggy felt. She just loved the hardness of a cock fucking in and out of her cunt. It was true, however, that she could fuck all day and night. Her fantasies were wild and glorious, and she had made a mistake when she told her husband of them.

  He was packed and gone in a short time, saying Peggy was a pervert, a nasty woman, a deviant, and he wanted no more to do with her.

  Hurt, she withdrew into herself, depressed most of the time. She thought her husband could be right, that something was wrong with her. Maybe she was a pervert, a nasty woman. It took years before she managed to come to terms with herself, accept what she wanted, without guilt.

  The only problem was, she was afraid of a close relationship with a man. She was afraid of being hurt again.

  Years had gone by, and in all that time Peggy had held her burning hungers inside, suffering with them, doing what she could about it in privacy. Her fingers were a poor substitute for a cock, but it was all she had.

  And now, Ted was jacking off.

  He was in his room, right now, pounding on his young cock. She was sure of it. She had seen him go in, close his door, and that had been half an hour ago. Ted seldom closed his bedroom door, even at night. With his door closed, the only thing he could be doing was jerking on his cock.

  The urge to sneak up to the door and listen was strong. She could imagine what her ex-husband would say if he knew what was going on in her mind right now. Yet, she wanted to listen to her son as he ran his fist up and down his hard cock, listen to his breathing, his gasps of self-induced pleasure when he squirted.

  She turned from the window, lifting her hands to her thrusting tits. Curling her fingers over the firmness, she squeezed, bringing a soft moan from her throat. Sliding her hand inside her blouse, she pushed her fingers into her bra and felt the silky skin of one tit. Her cunt throbbed inside her panties, becoming moist as her cunt started bulging. She ran her other hand down her flat stomach, pushing her palm between her legs, feeling the moist heat of her cunt through wispy panties and skirt. She twisted her ass gently, lifting her head and closing her eyes, imagining how her son would look right now. Would he be on his back across his bed, his cock out of his pants, or would he have his pants shoved to his knees? Maybe he was standing up, or kneeling, or doubling over. Every position she imagined Ted in sent a burning tingle through her cunt.

  Inching her skirt up, she pushed her hand against the slight bulge of her panties, feeling the wetness on the crotch. Spreading her feet on the floor, she began to rub at her pussy, making soft mewls of pleasure.

  A mild orgasm sent a shivering spasm through her body.

  Fast, too fast, she thought.

  She cupped her cunt, squeezing it, trying to bring on those sweet, hot ripples again. But it didn’t work this time. Disappointed, she straightened her skirt and adjusted her blouse. Her face flushed slightly, Ted noticed he as he came into the living room. But by then, Peggy was presentable. She gave her a son a smile, a very small smile, and her gaze dropped to the front of his pants, briefly.

  “Are you getting hungry, honey?” she asked, for lack of anything else to say.

  “It’s too early, Mom,” he replied. “Besides, I gotta meet Henry down on the corner.”

  Henry was her nephew, her sister’s son. Ted and Henry had almost grown up together. They were the best of friends, as well as cousins. Arlene, Peggy’s sister, had gone through a divorce, too, but it had not been as traumatic as Peggy’s. In fact, Arlene was now married to a good man, even if he did travel all the time. Still, he earned a good salary and took very good care of Arlene and Henry.

  She was reminded about a lunch date with her sister the next day. Arlene had something, she had said, very important to talk over with her, wanting Peggy’s advice.

  She watched her son leave, banging the door behind him. She had told him a hundred times not to bang the door, but it no longer bothered her. He was just a young, exuberant boy, filled with more energy than he could wear off. She watched him pedal off down the street, then turned from the window.

  Immediately, she went to his room.

  She had been right.

  He had been jacking off.

  The evidence was there.

  A warm puddle of cum was on his sheet, and Peggy stood at the side of his bed, staring down at it. The sheets had always been moist before, as if he had tried to clean up after himself. But this time, he had not.

  Peggy began to shake, her legs rubbery, as she gazed down at her son’s jism. She balled her hands tightly, pressing them at her hips. She knew what she was going to do, and the very idea of it caused a ripple of wicked sensation roll along her flesh. This was her son… the juice of his young, hot balls.

  Had he left his cum there deliberately, wanting her to find it?

  Peggy leaned over, moving a hand toward the small puddle of cum. She ran her fingertip through it, feeling the slippery warmth. Her cunt began to pulsate, become wet again. Lifting her hand, she smelled, and her breath caught when her cunt suddenly sucked inward with tightness, her clit becoming inflamed.

  She rubbed her wet finger on her bottom lip, and mewled softly. Her pink tongue slipped out slowly, and she tasted her lip. Pe
ggy’s eyes closed with dreamy desire as she licked lightly at her wet finger, tasting her son’s cum. With a soft cry, she plunged the finger into her mouth and sucked it, pretending it was his cock. Then, with a sob of unrestrained delight, she jerked her skirt up and shoved her hand into her wispy pantes, her fingers drumming upon her sensitive clit. She lamed ever and shoved her tongue into the puddle cum, licking it up, tasting it, savoring and swallowing softly. She spread her thighs and stuffed two fingers into her cunt fucking it in and out as she neared her mouth against his sheet, sucking and licking at the cock cream her son had left there.

  “Ooooohh,” she whimpered, her pussy grabbing at her fingers as a hard, hot orgasm rippled through it. She pushed her face into the wetness as her cunt sucked and pulled at her fingers, her ass clenching with the power of her orgasm.

  By the time her orgasm faded, her lower face was smeared with boy-cum. She stood up, her face radiant, her cunt still pulsating around her buried fingers. The orgasm had been strong, very strong. It was the strongest she had had in a long time.

  And she wanted more.

  With a soft squeal, she climbed onto her son’s bed, squatting above the moist place. She pulled the crotch of her skimpy panties to one side, exposing her pussy. She lifted the sheet and rubbed the wetness at her cunt, working the sheet inside. She moaned softly as she stiffened her finger with the sheet around it, and began to fingerfuck herself that way. She pretended her finger was her son’s cock, the wetness the sheet his spurting cum.

  Using two hands at her cunt now, Peggy rammed one finger in and out of her cunt, the fingers of the other hand twisting and rubbing at her distended clit. She rocked her ass about, squealing softly with ecstasy.

  “Ooooh, fuck it, baby, fuck it!” she whispered. “Fuck that cunt, honey! Ram it to me! Ohhh, yes, baby, fuck that hot, wet cunt!”

  She screamed, biting at her tongue to muffle the sound. Her cunt seemed to pull her sheet wrapped finger deeper inside. The spasms were very tight, gripping her finger in rippling contraction. She cried out time and again until a series of orgasms began to calm. She was weak, very weak, and remained squatting there, but with her sheet-wrapped finger out of her cunt now. Her tits felt very swollen, her nipples extremely sensitive.

  After a short rest, she climbed from Ted’s bed. Her legs trembled weakly as she looked down at the sheet. The wetness was spreading larger now. She grinned to herself, thinking she would leave the sheet where it was. Perhaps Ted would see what she had done.

  Adjusting the crotch of her panties over her cunt, smoothing down her skirt, she left his room. She felt good, better than she had in days. In one way, she had enjoyed a fuck with her son, she felt. Second-hand, but very good, just the same.

  It was later, after dinner, when Ted had finished his shower and gone off to bed that Peggy fully understood what she had done, and the strength of her orgasm. She tried to find shame or guilt in her actions, but there was none. As she prepared for bed, she thought how silly she was being. She wondered how many other mothers were going through what she was, if any of them had done what she did. It was kind of stupid, she told herself as she slipped into a gown and then beneath the cool sheets of her bed. Stupid because here she was, wanting what her son had, wanting it badly, fingerfucking herself and fantasizing about him — and all the time her son was in there, pounding on his cock frantically.

  Two people, each wanting and needing the same thing, but perhaps in a different way. She needed hard cock because her cunt demanded it, and Ted needed pussy because his juices were hot and young and flowing. He needed some pussy as badly as she needed hard cock, but in a different way. Why did things work so strangely? Why did her son have to hide nad jack off, wanting some pretty girl with a hot cunt, and why did she have to stay in her own room, desperate for cock, almost any cock?

  Because, she told herself, mothers don’t fuck their sons, you hotassed bitch!

  But Peggy wanted to fuck Ted.

  Ted might love it, she told herself. Ted might want the same things she dreamed of, but was unable to experience. Ted might be eager to fuck her. But on the other hand, he might be just like his father.

  How could she find out if Ted would fuck her?

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I just hope you can understand, Peggy,” Arlene said as she sipped her coffee.

  She was sitting across from Peggy in the small cafe, the remains of their light lunch on the table. Peggy wasn’t really surprised at what her sister had to say, but she had not expected it. Arlene was not one to confess, especially anything concerning her marriage. There were two years difference between Peggy and Arlene, with Arlene the youngest. They had never been really close, as many sisters were. Once or twice, as teenagers, they had come close to discussing their feelings, but two years was a huge difference during the teenage years. Peggy, being thirty-two now, had been the most surprised of all when Arlene married at eighteen. She had not thought her sister would marry that young.

  “I miss my husband,” Arlene said, putting her coffee cup down. “He’s gone so much. I thought, you being single all these years, you would understand more than anyone else.”

  “Understand what, Arlene?” Peggy asked. Arlene became nervous, fidgeting in her chair, looking down, then around the small place, but never directly at Peggy. “It’s kind of hard to talk about. I thought you’d be the best one, more understanding.”

  “Just say it,” Peggy urged. “I’ve never seen you so nervous, or blushing so much.”

  “Well, it is a little embarrassing,” Arlene said in a soft, almost shy voice. “The fact is… well, Peggy, I’m not getting enough!”

  “Enough what?” Peggy asked.

  “Oh, Peggy, you know!”

  “I do?” Peggy asked, puzzled. “Arlene, stop talking in circles and tell me what it is. Maybe I can help. But I won’t know until you tell me what the problem is. Is it some female problem, Arlene?”

  “You could say that,” her sister replied.

  “Have you discussed it with your husband?”

  “I can’t,” Arlene answered. “He’s gone most of the time, you know that.”

  “Come on, talk about it,” Peggy said. “Maybe it’s something I can help you with.”

  “I doubt that,” Arlene said. “You’re not a… man.”

  “You’re saying a man might be able to help you?”

  Arlene’s eyes became moist, and a tear rolled down one smooth cheek. Peggy watched her clench her hands tightly. Peggy placed her warm palm over her sister’s fist, concerned.

  “I think we better go someplace else,” Peggy said softly. “This appears serious, and needs a private place.”

  Peggy paid for the lunch and convinced Arlene to leave her car there and ride with her. She felt concerned for her sister as she drove home. Arlene leaned against her door and sobbed softly all the way.

  Peggy pulled into the drive of her own home, seeing the garage door up and her son’s bicycle gone. That was best, because Arlene didn’t want to see anyone, not in her present condition. Peggy held her sister’s hand as they entered the house, and didn’t resist when Peggy had her sit on the couch. Peggy perched on the coffee table, facing her sister.

  “Now, tell me about it, Arlene,” she insisted in a gentle voice.

  “Oh, Peggy!” Arlene sobbed. “I don’t understand it, myself. With my first husband, I enjoyed… I mean, I always had… God, this is so shameful!”

  Peggy waited, knowing her sister would eventually tell her what it was.

  Arlene sobbed into her hands for a while. She was dressed in a becoming sheath, with slits up both sides of the skirt. Her flawlessly shaped tits were cupped tightly, their contours exposed. Peggy noticed the creaminess of Arlene’s thigh.

  “Okay,” Arlene said, swallowing her sobs as she lifted her shoulders with determination. “The fact is, Peggy, I’ve not had one… you know, orgasm, since I’ve been married.”

  “You haven’t?” Peggy asked, surprised.

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nbsp; Arlene shook her head, her wheat-blonde hair dancing gently on her shoulders. “Not once, with my present husband. I had them all time with my first husband, but now I never have them. It’s driving me out of my mind, Peggy, and I don’t know what to do.”

  Peggy didn’t, either.

  She and Arlene had never enjoyed intimate talks before, especially about sex. She wasn’t sure how to answer her sister.

  “I get these crazy, wild ideas in my head,” Arlene went on. “I mean some really weird fantasies I never used to have them, but being married to my present husband, well… I don’t come, and these fantasies are in my head and I’m about to… oh, Peggy, what’s wrong with me?”

  Peggy leaned forward and held her sobbing sister in her arms. She caressed and stroked her back, her arms. She held Arlene’s head against her tits, feeling the shudders go through her slim body. She had not known Arlene was so sensual, so hot-blooded. This was a revelation.

  “I’ve always wanted, needed, sex, Peggy,” Arlene mumbled against her sister’s tits. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been out of my mind with desire. That’s why I married at eighteen. I know I surprised you and a few others, but that was why I did it. All those boys at school, wanting to do it to me, always kissing me and feeling me and they’d get so hard and put my hand on their… down there, and I’d find it in my hand and I’d be pumping them and trying to keep their hands from under my dress and… ohhhh, Peggy, I loved it! I loved holding them and jerking them and making them come. And all the time, I was about to melt with heat and…”

  Peggy pushed her sister away, looking into her tormented face, tears streaming from her beautiful eyes. She held Arlene by her shoulders, looking hard, searching for herself in those eyes.

  “I think I understand, Arlene,” she said softly. “I’m sure I understand now.”

  “No, you don’t!” Arlene wailed. “It isn’t just that I can’t seem to come anymore, ft’s… it’s something else, too.”