Chapter 1
Dorothy Miller gasped and felt her heart suddenly begin to pound faster. She had just stepped out onto the sun deck of the cottage she had rented for the next two weeks, expecting to take in a beautiful view of the lake and mountains. Instead, her eyes locked on the open window of her son's bedroom and the unexpected sight of her sixteen-year-old boy standing naked before his dresser mirror. He was blow-drying his hair, unaware of her presence. All at once, she was trembling, weak-kneed, and sexually aroused.
Since her husband's death, a little over two years ago, she had found herself strangely attracted to her son. And now, staring at his naked back brought her to such an aroused state, she was involuntarily rubbing her groin against the sun deck railing, trying to contain the itch that was building between her legs. Mine! she heard a voice in her head say. That handsome young man is mine. At the same time, guilt and shame flushed through her mind, creating havoc in an already dizzy head.
Dottie's fingers ached to touch the firm, tight skin of her son's buttocks, knowing instinctively that she could bring him the most delicious sensations he had ever known. She stared at the white mounds of flesh with a hunger she had never known before. In her mind, the fantasy grew more vivid, and she could hear Steven moan with delight as her hands kneaded the firm balls of meat, while a stray finger toyed teasingly with the sensitive little buttonhole hidden deep in the crevice.
"What's so bad about that?" Dottie asked, trying to put an end to the guilt that was tormenting her and ruining the complete enjoyment of the fantasy. "I just want to please him ... and make him happy!" But the dampness seeping into the crotch of her panties caused serious doubts about only wanting it for his pleasure.
Then Steven turned and moved out of view. Dottie was disappointed with the loss, but still continued the fantasy. She imagined the delight that would have been hers if he had turned in her direction so she could view the front of his naked body. Her mind furnished the picture momentarily, then faded away, leaving her frustrated. What's wrong with me? she asked, trying to put an end to the lust she felt. But her aroused body refused to let her forget. The moisture had penetrated her white shorts and there was a visible spot slowly spreading in the material.
It was strange, she thought, that in all the years she had been married, sex had played a rather unimportant role in her life. Now that her husband was gone, she constantly longed to express herself sexually ... and only with Steven! She was confused and frustrated. And seeing Steve naked like this only made matters worse.
"Aren't you coming to the beach with us?" Nancy's voice cut into Dottie's dreamlike thoughts.
"Huh?" Dottie gulped, feeling as though her daughter had actually caught her in the act she was visualizing. "Oh ... no. I think I'll straighten things up and finish unpacking." Though still flushed with desire, Dottie was pleased with herself for the quick recovery and reasonable excuse. She knew she couldn't walk down to the beach with them-not with a clearly visible dampness in the crotch.
"Steve and I are just going to take a quick dip ... to see how the lake compares with swimming in the ocean."
"Don't you think that bikini is a bit...?" Dottie stopped in mid-sentence when her daughter's pretty face twisted into a frowned expression. She just couldn't keep from being overprotective, she realized. At seventeen, Nancy was so beautifully developed she reminded Dottie of some sex-kitten in the movies. She even admitted being a little jealous of her daughter's long blond hair and big blue eyes.
"Please, Mom. We've gone over this a thousand times," Nancy moaned. "It's really a very modest bikini ... you'll see ... wait till you see what the other girls are wearing.... You're just so ... so ..."
"Old-fashioned?" Dottie grinned, letting Nancy know she had won the point without further argument.
"You said it, Mom, not me," Nancy smiled, her pale blue eyes twinkling now and her voluptuous body squirming with anticipation and anxious to see the reaction she would get at the beach. "We won't be gone long.... Then maybe we can take a ride into town."
Dorothy just nodded, aware that her heart was still pounding furiously and the hardened nipples of her aching breasts were trying to force their way through the material of her bra and sweater. She was grateful for Nancy's quick departure from the sun deck and let out a sigh of relief as the girl disappeared through the door.
The guilty, nervous feeling she was experiencing reminded Dottie of the time her mother had almost caught her with her panties down. She and the little boy next door had been playing doctor and he had just finished taking her temperature, using his finger as an imaginary rectal thermometer. They were only about five years old, she recalled, but the thrill of it was still vivid; especially the excitement that raged through her body as she lowered her panties to let him see and touch that sensitive, never exposed flesh back there. She didn't know at the time that he was going to poke his finger in the little hole, but she did not complain when he did. She knew it was wrong, but it was such a delightful experience. And years later, when she was a mother, she would catch Nancy at the same game ... and then Steven. Why had she been so stern with them, when she knew how much she had enjoyed it herself? She also wondered if she hadn't been too strict with the children when it came to teaching them modesty. They seemed to be fanatical about it now, not even letting their own mother see them undressed. And she resented that!
As soon as she heard the front door slam, Dottie moved on still trembling legs toward the door of the cabin. She wondered if Steve or Nancy would notice that she had changed her clothes again, after just putting them on. I'll tell them I changed into slacks for the ride to town, she told herself, anxious to get to the privacy of her bedroom.
Dottie peeled off her sweater quickly and released her aching breasts from the confines of the bra. That alone caused her to sigh with relief. The nipples were rock-hard and quivering. She padded across the room to the full-length mirror that hung on the inside of the open closet door.
"Not bad for a thirty-six-year-old mother of two," she said softly, cupping the full, firm orbs with trembling hands. "They don't sag ... like some women my age ... mmmm ... I'll bet Steve would love to , . ." She couldn't bear to hear herself say it. Instead she slipped out of the white shorts, made a three-quarter turn, and eyed the mirror as she slid the pink panties down over the white globes of her derriere. "Now there's a sight little boys, big boys, and old men would appreciate!"
Dottie continued to lower the thin garment, using a coy, teasing slowness, as though doing it for someone else's benefit. She was thankful now for the damp crotch and the excuse it gave her to undress like this. Excuse? she heard herself ask. Why do I need an excuse? Why do I torment myself by trying to rationalize every move? She was infuriated with her own shortcomings. And when the face in the mirror seemed to be staring at her with contempt, Dottie decided it was time to put an end to the torment. To hell with it! she declared with a new determination. Its about time I started enjoying myself! Suddenly she felt bold and confident. Now the reflection reminded her of Nancy-there was a twinkle in her eyes and her body squirmed eagerly. The fact that her daughter was blond and blue-eyed didn't matter. She was just as happy with shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes, she decided.
Dottie's right hand slid from her breast, down her flat stomach, and over her hip to the smooth white skin of her buttocks. Her eyes were fixed on the image in the mirror, watching with fascination as the hand rubbed the perfectly matched globes of flesh with a sensual, circling motion. She knew what was coming, but pretended she didn't. The middle finger curled and slithered up the deep crease, sending chills up her spine. In her mind, it was the little boy next door exploring her flesh, making it tingle with every touch. Her left hand continued to squeeze the aching breast, and that seemed filled with a forbidden thrill she remembered from her childhood. As always, during these moments of mixed fantasy and reality, she wished she could pretend it was Steven playing with her. She was stopped by the fact that she couldn't imagine a realistic plan of bringing her son to this point. And some connection with reality was necessary to make it believable enough to excite her. After so many years of preaching modesty to the boy, she couldn't expect him to suddenly believe it was right to see and touch her naked flesh.
Now Dottie concentrated on bringing herself to the longed-for orgasm. After several teasing strokes with her finger in the deep crack, she searched for the sensitive opening. The little bud sucked itself inward at the first touch. And when she tried to insert the tip of her finger in the little opening, the sharp edge of her fingernail pricked the tender lips, hurting enough to convince her she couldn't accomplish what the boy next door had done so easily and painlessly. Then without hesitating, she dropped her left hand and combed her fingers through the damp triangle of hair between her legs. The middle finger of that hand slithered through the panting lips of her vagina, bringing her to the peak of excitement. By using the middle fingers of both hands-one tapping gently on her anus, while the other toyed with her clitoris-Dottie quickly brought on the much needed orgasm. She wanted to scream out with delight, but bit her lip for fear someone would hear the painful cry.
After the flush of relief the orgasm gave her, a dull ache of loneliness set in. She wanted Steve desperately now, she told herself. She wanted to be kissed and held tight, and to share her happiness with him.
"Yes," she breathed softly. "I must share my happiness with Steven. He deserves itl And I'll teach him all the things a boy his age should know about sex ... instead of just letting him pick it up on the street.... All I need is a plan ... a way to get around the modesty I taught him... without disillusioning him...."
Convinced that what she was going to do was in Steven's best interest and not her own, Dottie pulled on a robe and rushed to the bathroom to shower. In her mind, she envisioned a series of instructions that would help develop the boy's confidence in dealing with girls and teach him some of the secrets of pleasing them. It was all going to be innocent, she kept telling herself. Any reward she got out of the encounters would be incidental. And by the time she finished showering, Dorothy Miller actually believed it.