Читать онлайн «Home-Made Loving»

Mara Fletcher woke to the song of birds outside her window. She stretched, feeling the goodness of a full night's sleep blessing her body. The sheet spilled down, exposing her large, full breasts, with the thimble-sized nipples, erect fleshy strawberries in the morning air wafting through the cabin's open window. She recalled where she was and, rising, looked out. All around, the lake washed at the island sand just a few feet from her bedroom. As far as she could see there were forests, sky, and water.

Her island! Sitting in the very center of a large lake. Secluded and nearly inaccessible. She smiled. Her man had been no dummy. Then she frowned. But he had up and left her. Dead. Killed in some sweaty, steaming jungle swamp. One more time, she had heard him say. One more time, and then we can live on easy street. One more war. That was what it had been, one more. His last. She heard the sound of running water down the hall and knew Tim, her son, was up and around. She threw the sheet back and, going to the door, opened it and went into the hallway, her plump butt-cheeks tic-tocing. Tim was in the bathroom with the door slightly ajar. She thought to call to him and then realized the water running into the basin would drown out her voice. She stepped to the door so he might hear her. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Then blood rushed to her face and she felt her loins moisten. Her son was jerking off and using the sound of water to mask his lewd movements and groans of pleasure.

He stood before the basin, his shorts down about his ankles, his legs spread. His fist was clasped about his cock, pumping it up and down, making little liquid, fleshy sounds as he reached the apex of the stroke and started down again. As his fist reached the hairy base of his prick, the large purple knob of his cock strutted and swelled, and she noticed a thin stream of clear liquid oozing from the little slit in the point of the knob. She drew a silent, shuddering breath.

Should she make a sound and let him know his activity was discovered?

Should she walk away and be silent, later to caution him about too much handwork? Her breasts swelled and the large nipples jutted until they stuck out an inch from the dark pink whorls of her slightly pebbly areolae. They hardened and trembled from the excitement of watching her teen-aged son extract pleasure from the movement of his fist up and down a very well-developed penis shaft. So many things ran through her mind fleetingly. Mike, her husband, was well endowed, with seven thick inches, huge hen-egg balls, and a staying power which had been her delight and pleasure. She had learned to lead him and stay with him, so that their climaxes happened together, a glorious coming in accord. But as she watched her son, rising now and then on his toes as the moment of his extreme explosion neared, she saw his balls were every bit as large, full and heavy, speaking of quarts of hot, spurting come to be showered into some waiting, quaking eager cunt. And his prick must be nearly as long- no, she saw it clearly for a moment. It must be longer, and the head was thicker and broader. What a cock her young son had on him. Her mouth moistened and she licked her lips as though she could taste it. She felt weak and leaned back against the hallway wall momentarily. Her cunt quivered and she felt moisture running down her thighs. God, she was hot! She hadn't had a hot, hard cock ramming up into her liquid depths for over a year now, and she was beginning to feel she would run out into the street and grab the first man she met and rape him! Unconsciously she widened her stance and one of her hands reached into her labia and began to caress the little stiff clit there, strumming it, feeling it quiver in its intense passion. She rubbed it gently and twirled it between forefinger and thumb as she watched her son jack off. He was steaming now, his hand flashing up and down his cock-shaft, making the popping liquid sounds as his juices gathered and dripped off the end of his cock into the basin of water. Then, over the sound of the water, she heard him groan. She moaned softly, her fingers digging deep into her mound. He reared up on his toes and gasped, his head thrown back. He trembled and gasped again and then, his prick held tightly in his fist, mashed deeply into the pubic whorl of his bush, he shook and came! A hot white glob of semen spurted high and onto the glass of the shaving mirror. Another! And yet another, and then the spurts diminished and became a flow. It came and came until she could hardly believe what she was seeing. He must have come a cupful of semen into the basin. He sighed and relaxed, looking tired and drained. She rose on her toes and gasped, her fingers flashing in and out of her anxious, hot cunt, and came three times, one right after the other. Before he could turn and see her, she whirled and ran on tiptoes back to her room, closing the door silently behind her. She leaned back upon it, and delved into her cunt again, draining out of the moment the last twitches of the delightful sensation of coming. There were a few more sweet, soft quivers and then it was over. She staggered to the bed and fell upon it and into a light doze. She never knew when Tim came to the door and opened it and looked in. As he looked at his nude, uncovered mother, he saw the sprawled legs, and had a close look at the pink, dewy slit out of which he had emerged. He was still nude, not meaning to have stepped entirely into the room, but seeing her asleep, he had come in.