Chapter 3
After half an hour, Joyce finally felt relaxed enough to shift and squirm in irritation. It had taken her what had seemed like a century to work up enough courage to strip naked and stretch out for a sunbath in the well-screened backyard. After fifteen minutes, she'd begun really to enjoy the sensuous feeling of the sun on her bare skin. Now there was a lump in the grass that was poking her in her left shoulder blade, refusing to let her doze off in peace. Rolling over with a grunt, she pulled the corner of the towel down and tried to find what was digging into her. She pulled on the lump of grass, then tried to pound it down with the heel of her hand. Nothing worked. With a weary sigh, she got up and dragged the towel over a foot.
This time when she stretched out, there was a painful lump right under her left buttock. She sighed. It had started out to be such a nice, peaceful, quiet Saturday. Jason was off playing baseball, Paul was off playing tennis-or screwing Patty Conklin, or both. Judy had gone off to do whatever she did with her current boy friend. Joyce had been left wonderfully alone. Paul had seemed a little upset that she wasn't taking her usual leisurely Saturday shopping trip, but had tried not to show it. Joyce knew he was mad, because it cramped his style with Patty, which gave Joyce some slight satisfaction.
Now the lumps in the grass were intruding on her own pleasure. Joyce debated moving the towel again, then thought of the thin foam rubber camping mattresses stored in the attic. They were the ideal solution, but she always had a horrible time with the attic ladder. She could never get it to swing down from the trap door. She sighed.
Then she cocked an ear. There was silence except for a bee buzzing. Then she heard the doorbell. She frowned and tried to ignore it. She didn't want to answer it.
Whoever was there certainly wasn't patient. They leaned on the button, and the bell began to shrill incessantly.
"All right, all right, all right," Joyce grumbled, reaching for her short beach robe and slipping it on. Usually she wore it over her bathing suit. Now the terry cloth felt scratchy against her bare nipples as she fastened the belt and hurried through the house. "I'm coming," she called out irritably as the endless, mind-scrambling noise went on and on.
She jerked the door open and the youth who'd been leaning on the button jerked his hand away and staggered back a step. "Ooops, I'm sorry, Mrs. Kirkland," he apologized. "I didn't expect you to be here."
Joyce's temper was a bit short. "Just who did you expect to answer that racket, George?" It was Judy's current flame.
"I'm sorry," George apologized again, his voice cracking. "I thought Judy was here, down in the playroom, and I wasn't sure she could hear the bell. I won't disturb you, Mrs. Kirkland. I'm sorry."
"Wait!" Joyce felt suddenly contrite. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap at you."
"Oh, that's all right," George assured her, nervously swinging his arms and backing away.
"No, no it's not. Please, don't run away."
George stopped. "Well, if Judy's not here, it's kind of silly for me to stay."
"I thought Judy was with you," Joyce noted. "Why don't you come in? I imagine she'll be home soon. There's no reason you shouldn't wait here."
"Well, maybe," George agreed reluctantly.
Joyce stepped aside to let him past her, and was suddenly conscious of her nudity under the very short robe, and the heat of George's healthy young body. "Where is Judy? Playing tennis?"
"Oh, no," George answered quickly. "She went off with your husband and Patty and Patty's father."
"Oh?" Joyce tried to keep her voice steady as a chill clamped down on her heart.
"Yeah. We ran into them at the tennis courts, and Judy just ignored me like I wasn't there. I thought maybe they'd come here or something."
"No, they didn't even call here," Joyce answered thoughtfully. "You say the four of them left together?"
"Yeah. They all went off together, real friendly-like." George looked miserable. "Judy didn't even know I was there, she was so busy nuzzling up to Mister Conklin. Oh, I guess I shouldn't have said that."
Joyce's suspicion hardened into certainty. "That's all right," she said softly. How many people was Paul going to drag down? God, now his own daughter was involved in his infidelities. Or was she? She probably just had a schoolgirl crush on Mark Conklin.
Then Joyce thought of something else, and subtle excitement stirred inside her. If her husband had a young girl, why shouldn't she have a young boy?
"I guess I'd better be going," George said again. "No, wait," Joyce said, thinking quickly. "Before you go, could you do me a favor?"
"Uh, yeah, sure. What?"
"There's something in the attic I need, and I can never get the ladder down. I guess I'm too short, or too light, or something. You're pretty good-sized. I'm sure you could get it down."
"Sure," the youth agreed, flattered.
Joyce led him upstairs to the second floor and pointed to the trap door in the ceiling. "You grab that string and pull. The door's supposed to swing right down, but I guess it sticks or something." She wiped suddenly sweaty palms on her robe.
George raised his arm to judge the jump, then leaped easily and grabbed the string. It stretched ominously; then there was a muffled groan and the door yielded, swinging the ladder down into the hall.
Joyce pushed past George. "Could you steady this, please?" she asked. She felt him move up behind her and saw his hands grip the ladder on either side of her. Then she started up, incredibly aware of her total lack of clothes under the short robe. Her cheeks flamed as she climbed to the attic. She heard George gulp as she paused at the top of the ladder, reaching up for the string to the light. Reaching over her head lifted the hem of her robe and she felt cool air high on her thighs. She shifted her feet as if to improve her balance, spreading them as far apart as the ladder would permit.
"don't let the ladder go," she cautioned. "Otherwise it'll fold up on me or something." It wasn't true.
"O ... okay," George agreed, his voice cracking.
Joyce spotted a mattress and leaned over from her waist to reach it. She reached out with both arms, and knew the robe was riding high up on her naked ass from the pose. Dragging the mattress along, she turned, easing it past her and down to George. "Just toss it on the floor behind you."
She turned around, putting her back to the ladder, and managed to loosen her belt while George was busy with the mattress. "Steady the ladder," she ordered, starting down slowly. There was a delicious-looking lump in the youth's pants.
Three steps from the bottom of the ladder, Joyce felt the back of the robe catch on something. Facing away from the ladder the way she was, her hands reaching back to its rails, her body was arching toward George. He was still steadying the ladder, his hands on either side of her.
Joyce took another step down and felt the robe rising, baring her ass. The next step, and the front of her robe was pulling open and rising above her crotch.
"Don't let go," she cautioned in a voice suddenly husky and quivering. She slid her hands down to grip George's wrists. She was inside the circle of his arms.
One last step, and the robe pulled completely open. George's eyes bugged out and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. Joyce shrugged the robe back off her shoulders and let it slide down her arms. Letting go of George, she pulled her arms out of her sleeves. Then she threw her arms around George's neck and brought her lips down on his in a ferocious, devouring kiss.
For a second the teen-ager froze, stunned. Then he was responding. He let go of the ladder and wrapped his arms around Joyce.
Joyce bore him backward and down onto the mattress. The two of them landed in a tangled knot, Joyce on top. Unwrapping her arms from around him and pushing up, she straddled his thighs. She let him fondle her breasts while she reached for his fly and managed to get his pants open and pry his cock out. He was hot and ready, and so was she. Lifting herself, she skewered herself on his marvelous, huge, hard shaft, driving it up into her pussy.
"Oh, wow," Joyce sighed, lying down on top of him, relishing the feel of his massive shaft in her cunt. It had been almost two weeks since she'd had something in her pussy. She squirmed and pumped and her pleasure increased immensely. She screwed herself on the youth eagerly, driving herself up toward an orgasm as quickly as possible.
It wasn't quickly enough. She felt his cock pulse inside and squirmed frantically, then squeezed her vagina down on him as she felt his semen shooting deep into her cunt. She hovered close to her own orgasm, but didn't quite make it as she felt George filling her cunt with cum. Fighting her disappointment, she concentrated on giving George all the pleasure she could, driving her body against his thrusting one as his climax slowly began to fade.
"Oh, wow," George moaned softly. "Oh, my gosh, Mrs. Kirkland, I'm sorry. Oh, golly."
"MMMmmm," Joyce purred, feigning more satisfaction than she felt. She had to keep the boy from panicking and running away. The day was yet young. "It's all right, George, really it is."
"It is?" George's voice shattered on the rising note.
"Is it ever," Joyce sighed.
"Oh, okay. Wow. You're really something, Mrs. Kirkland."
Joyce squirmed slightly and felt the boy's cock swell slightly inside her. "So are you, George ... so are you."
"Am I really? Gosh, thanks, Mrs. Kirkland."
Joyce decided the youngster's enthusiasm was a bit cloying. "Don't say anything," she suggested in a sexy whisper. "Just move in me real slow."
"You mean like this?" George asked. He began to pump his cock in and out of her.
"Oh, yesss," Joyce hissed happily.
Lying in the middle of the hall, she savored the feel of George's cock sliding in and out of the hot sheath of her cunt. His powers of recovery were astonishing, a tribute to youth. Joyce felt him growing rapidly in her, pushing deeper and deeper with every stroke. Her arms under his shoulders, she laid her head on his chest and savored every hot inch of him as he slid in and out. She felt his cum being pumped out to form a pasty coating between them. Her nipples were little bumps against his hard chest. Squirming, Joyce ground her tits against his muscles.
With marvelous youthful vigor, he was driving her upward more quickly now, lifting her closer and closer to her own peak. She could somehow sense that he was nearing another orgasm, and prayed he wouldn't come too soon. He began to pant in time with his pumping.
Joyce let her hips begin to shift and move, to squirm and grind. Bumping her pelvis forward, Joyce ground her clitoris between them, and succeeded in lifting herself still closer to the peak she wanted.
George's moves began to become a little frantic. Joyce eased her own squirming and managed to slow the teen-ager without discouraging him. "We've got lots of time," she told him softly.
"Sorry."
"Just hold me and move real easy," she instructed. She was pleased with the way he responded to her directions.
George resumed his slow, steady pumping, and Joyce thought she was going to die with pleasure. She hadn't felt anything like this in a long time. Youth indeed had its advantages. There was impatience, but there was stamina. There was inexperience, but there was enthusiasm. Joyce soared up and up and up as George pumped and pumped and pumped at her. She began to come, her body convulsing and burning up with pleasure, and George just kept right on pumping and pumping and pumping.
Joyce thought he was going to go on forever. Her own orgasm kept right on going, an endless river of lava pouring through her veins. She was being cremated with pleasure. It was the most eternal climax of her entire life.
It was actually only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Joyce was nearly delirious when she finally felt George approaching his climax. Wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tightly, she managed to contract her cunt tightly around his cock. Through the roaring flames of her own climax she felt the youth pouring his second load of semen deep into her cunt. Hanging on for dear life, she milked him dry. Then, with a mutual sigh, they both let their muscles sag limp.
"Oh, wow!" George sighed at last.
Joyce rolled off the youngster, feeling his cock slide out of her. "That was very good," she purred, stroking his chest.
"Was it really?"
"Very good," she praised him.
"I've never done anything like that before," he said hesitantly.
"I guess you'll have something to write in your diary tonight, won't you?" Joyce joked.
"Aw, I don't keep a diary," George snorted, taking her seriously.
"No, I guess guys don't."
"But I'll never forget this," George assured her hastily. "Honest I won't."
"I have no doubt about that," Joyce replied confidently.
"I mean, like, you're really something," George said enthusiastically. "You're outta sight."
"Is that good?" Joyce asked innocently, flattered.
"I mean, like you're the most!"
"Thank you, George." Joyce felt very content and confident.
George was resting on one elbow, looking her up and down. "You got a body as good as your daughter's," he said admiringly.
Joyce was thrilled. That was what she wanted to hear, that she could compete successfully with a teen-ager. "Really?"
"Better even," George added. "She's a little skinny."
"She's a little young," Joyce noted charitably. "But then, I guess I'm a little old," she said, fishing.
"Shucks, no," George argued. "You aren't old, Mrs. Kirkland. You're not old at all. You're ... you're mature."
Joyce wasn't sure she liked that word, but let it pass.
"I mean, like you're really stacked," George went on. "But you don't sag at all." He cupped one of her breasts.
"Have you seen so many women naked?" Joyce teased.
"Gosh, no, just in pictures. You're the first one I've seen naked, except for my mom," George reported. "But like the women in the magazines, the ones with big boobs, they're all saggy."
"What about your mother? Is she saggy?"
"Aw, she's fat," George snorted. "She's not like you at all. You're real trim and ... sexy, too."
"So are you. Would you like to take a shower?"
"I guess I could use one, huh?" George asked, embarrassed.
"So could I," Joyce assured him, getting gracefully to her feet. "Let's get the attic closed up and the mattress out of the hall. Then we can wash each other down, okay?"
"Okay!" George bounded enthusiastically to his feet.
A few minutes later they were crowded together in the shower. Joyce decided that maybe the Japanese tradition of community baths wasn't a bad idea at all. She'd shared showers with two different people recently and loved it.
"I wonder what happened to Judy," George said. "It's be kind of embarrassing if she showed up right now."
"I don't think you need to worry about that," Joyce assured him, soaping his chest, heading for his limp cock. She wrapped her soapy fingers around it, relishing its gristly feel and getting it to grow rapidly.
"I've got more important things to think about, huh?"
"You sure do," Joyce agreed. His shaft was already almost as hard as she'd seen it. She was astonished at his recuperative powers. "You could wash my breasts."
"Oh, sure." George hastily took the soap from her.
Joyce tipped her head back and savored the slick, soapy feel of his hands on her soft breasts. Closing her eyes, she let her fingers tell her all about his cock-hot, hard, slick with lather. She felt her breasts swelling from the attention he was giving them. It was marvelous to feel so young and wanted.
"Oh, golly, we're gonna do it again, aren't we?" George asked innocently. "Of course we are."
"Right here?" he squeaked. "Why not?"
"But how?"
"This way," she said, sliding his finger down to her pussy. "First, do this to me." She guided his finger into her cunt, thrilled at the way he bored it deep into her hot, wet channel.
"But I'm gonna ... do it too soon," George announced, worried.
"No, you won't," Joyce assured him, still smearing the slick, soapy lather all over his shaft. "I won't let you." She soaped his balls, fondling them gently.
"Oh, golly," George sighed.
"Don't forget to do me," she reminded him.
"Sorry." He pumped his finger in and out of her cunt.
"Do this, too," she directed, guiding his thumb to the button of her clitoris.
"This?" he asked, grinding his thumb on the sensitive button as if he were squashing a bug.
"Wow, yes," Joyce squealed at the explosive sensation. She was still tickling and petting his cock and balls.
Standing under the steaming spray, they teased each other mercilessly, until Joyce was afraid she was going to die from pleasure. She managed somehow to keep George at an agonizing peak of excitement but without letting him come. The stamina of the youngster was astonishing.
"Geez, I'm starting to hurt," George moaned at last.
"We don't want that, do we?"
"Gosh, no," he agreed.
"I know a sure cure for it," she noted, drawing him closer. "Think you can take my weight?"
"Sure," George answered confidently. "You're light."
She turned him so he could brace his back against the wall. "Here I come." She jumped and managed to wrap her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. He slipped along the wall a little, but managed to stay on his feet.
"You'll have to push your cock into me," she grunted, hugging herself close to him.
"Like this?" She felt him reaching under her, then felt the head of his cock poke her.
"A little more toward you," she directed. "That's it."
She let herself slip down on him, and felt his cock slide smoothly up into her. George cupped his hands around her buttocks, and she was amazed at the sensation this caused. She hadn't expected that feeling at all. Closing her eyes, she hung on the youngster, water pounding against her back while she savored the feel of her buttocks being spread apart, and the feeling of his cock in her oozing cunt.
"I can't stay like this forever," George grunted.
"Oops, sorry," Joyce apologized. "Think we can make it this way?"
"I ... think ... so," George grunted.
Joyce somehow managed to lift herself, then let herself back down on his hot shaft. "Oh, wow, you're good."
It didn't take much for her to be soaring up to a marvelous peak again. She squirmed on him, using her arms and the help he gave her from her ass to lift herself. A few short strokes and she was coming in a rush. She tightened her cunt around his cock and felt him pumping his cum into her. They clung together under the hot spray, and savored their wild orgasms.
Then she felt George collapsing under her and hastily unwrapped her legs, taking her weight off him before he slid down to the floor. His cock, sagging rapidly, levered out of her, giving her clitoris a wild whipping as she dropped to her feet. Then she snuggled against him and they held each other up as they fought for breath.
"That was wild," George groaned. "You're too much."
"You're just enough," Joyce answered. "Any more, and I couldn't take you."
"Thanks," George said gratefully.
"Now, let's finish our shower," Joyce suggested. "Before the hot water runs out."
"Yeah. I've gotta be getting home before my mother starts to worry about me."
"Does she worry much about you?" Joyce asked.
"Aw, you know how mothers are," George snorted, rinsing off the soap.
"Yes, I guess I do," Joyce giggled. "I'm one, too, you know."
"Funny, you don't seem like one, but I guess you are," George agreed. "Uh, Mrs. Kirkland?"
"What, George?" Joyce suddenly realized their relationship had shifted back to adult-child.
"Uh, about Judy...."
"I don't think there's any reason she should know about us," Joyce assured him.
"I guess it would be kind of grim if she did," George agreed. "But that's not what I meant. If she left me like she did today, do you think I should depend on her?"
Joyce thought this over, and decided that limited honest was only fair. "If I were you, George, I'd find myself another girl. Judy's very nice, but I think maybe you're ready for a more ... experienced girl."
George's face lit up. "Yeah, I guess maybe you're right. Gee, thanks, Mrs. Kirkland."
"My pleasure," she assured him. Though, after today, Joyce wasn't so sure about Judy's lack of experience. Even so, it seemed the right approach to take.
George stopped by the front door, then turned to Joyce hesitantly. "Could I ... uh ... see you again, Mrs. Kirkland?"
Joyce thought it over. "Maybe. Why don't you call me?"
"Okay. Could you open your robe again? You're so pretty." George blushed.
Joyce was incredibly flattered. She quickly undid the robe and spread it wide. She posed for the youth, who was thrilled as his eyes raked over her.
"Thanks," George sighed. "And maybe I'll call you, if I get the chance before I have to go to camp."
"I'd like that, George."
"See you, Mrs. Kirkland." He bounced down the steps.
Joyce closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She felt reassured, warm, wonderful, and incredibly full of cum. Then she thought of Judy and frowned. What was happening with her daughter anyway? If Judy and Paul and Patty, and Patty's father had stuck together, there wasn't much doubt. In his search for his own youth, Paul didn't seem to be leaving any stone unturned. And evidently Mark was joining in the search.
Joyce analyzed her feelings curiously. Strangely, she felt no qualms about Judy's losing her virginity, or becoming promiscuous. Joyce herself had had a fairly strict upbringing. She'd saved her virginity for her husband on her wedding night, and it hadn't done anything at all to insure her marriage. All it had done was deny her what might have been valuable experience.
Joyce thought about her other child, Jason. Paul seemed to be losing interest in his son, almost as if he regarded the boy as evidence of his age.
Joyce found that thinking about Jason gave her a peculiar feeling of warmth. She wondered if he was still a virgin. She assumed he was, since he was only fourteen. As she wandered back to her sunbath, Joyce pondered one possibility for a few moments, then tried to discard it. She couldn't. She found the idea of taking her son's virginity extremely exciting and interesting. Her cunt felt empty and anxious as she stretched out in the sun.