Chapter 1
Myra Hawkins entered her living room, plopped herself down on the sofa next to her son, and affectionately ruffled his curly hair. "Anxious?" she asked, placing her bare arm around his shoulders.
Mark swallowed hard as his mother's huge tits bobbled freely and then settled down. In her tight sweater she reminded him of a movie star of the 1940's—big tits that stuck out like they were on a shelf, tight sweater ... He was suddenly extremely conscious that her soft, warm hip and thigh were pressed against him. He felt himself blush, and worried that his prick would get hard right in front of her.
"Maybe a little," he admitted.
"Just think," Myra teased, "tomorrow you'll be a year older." She smiled mischievously. "You'll have to give up your comic books, your baseball cards, and your models, and start thinking of finishing school and getting married."
"Aw, come on, Mom," Mark grinned. "Listen, can I have something to drink for my birthday, huh?"
"Why, of course! We'll have lots to drink. Soda, chocolate milk, fruit juice—"
"You know what I mean, Mom," Mark said. "Come on, can I?"
"We'll see," Myra said. "Now go wash up for supper. Your father's got to get back to the office in another hour."
"Again?" Mark said with obvious disgust. "What's he working on now?"
"I'm not sure, something to do with cooling engines for fuel efficiency."
"Huh! Same stuff he's been talkin' about for a year," Mark grumbled, heading for the bathroom.
Myra agreed with her son—more than agreed with him, in fact. She and Bob had argued many times about his increasing absences from home. And when he returned, he was always so tired. They were even fucking less often, something she'd thought would never happen. Bob loved fucking, as did she, and Myra couldn't understand his recent indifference to her body.
They were fucking less and arguing more. Myra put at least a bit of the blame on sexual tension. She'd been masturbating almost every night for the last few months, but she was sure Bob was too tired to even pound his prick in private. If he was masturbating, it was probably not more than once every week or so, she thought, frowning.
All through supper Mark thought about his birthday. It was less than half a day away, now, and he could hardly wait. His father spent so little time with them, Mark was really looking forward to tomorrow. Even on weekends, it seemed that his father always had to go to the office or take a trip out of town. And the boy knew that his mother often cried herself to sleep at night, for he'd heard her.
Things just seemed to get worse instead of better, and Mark was hoping that tomorrow's party might help things change. He. couldn't understand why his father stayed away from home so much. Mark knew that if he had the chance, he'd sleep with his mother all day long! She was the prettiest and sexiest woman he'd ever seen, and her dark brown hair and wide, cat-like eyes reminded him a bit of an actress he'd seen in an old musical. Mitzi Gaynor, that was her name, only Mitzi's tits weren't as huge as his mother's, and she was probably a lot older, now, too.
Mark knew that most tits as big as his mom's sagged with their own weight. But Myra's stuck out like volleyballs, firm and thrusting, and very, very round—not pear-shaped or egg-shaped, but round and big like volleyballs. He'd never seen her naked, but he remembered the way she'd looked at the beach this summer. She'd worn a two-piece bathing suit, and the upper curves of her tits had billowed over the top, twin piles of dazzling white flesh that shimmered as she walked.
Myra's waist was small, too, but her hips and ass were wide and full. Mark remembered how they'd gone jogging on the sand, and he'd let her get ahead of him so he could watch her chubby ass cheeks wobbling and rolling. He'd seen the same loose, but firm motion when she was working around the house, proving she didn't wear a girdle. Sometimes he suspected that his mother didn't even bother with panties, either, but he never got the chance to find out one way or the other.
Now that he was a teenager, Mark thought it was past time that he see a naked girl. He was tired of jerking off four and five times a day, and couldn't wait until he was able to find a steady fuck like the older guys.
Fifty minutes later Mark was looking at his mother over her plate as his father stood up to leave. There was still food on his plate, and desert hadn't been served. And it was his favorite, too, Mark thought, and he wasn't even staying to taste it!
"Do you have to go so soon?" Myra asked, wincing inwardly as she heard herself. She must have asked her husband that same question more than a thousand times in the last four years.
"Of course," Bob said. "If I don't do it, it won't get done." He gave her quick kiss on her forehead. "Don't wait up for me. See you, Mark."
"So long, Dad."
Well, Myra thought, that's that. Another lonely night. Another night of diddle-twat with Widow Thumb and her four daughters. Already she could feel the familiar warm itch between her plump thighs. The tight crotch of her panties was holding her bulging cunt more lovingly than Bob has in months, she thought angrily. She suddenly jumped up from the table, making her tits jiggle like jellyfish under her sweater.
Mark stared at her. He knew she was about to burst into tears and was leaving so he wouldn't see. The boy watched her hips sway as she hurried into her bedroom. Jeez, if only he could hold her when she was like this, if only he could get his hands on her tits and ass, he knew he could make her feel a lot better.
When Myra reached her bedroom she locked the door and hurriedly stripped. As her big bra fell her globular tits bounced free and, as she peeled down her panties, they swayed pendulously. She. kicked her panties away, spread her legs and looked at herself in the full-length door mirror.
She was still young, still attractive. What was it that kept her husband away from home? Just his job? She looked at her heavy, thrusting tits and then cupped them. Her areolas were exceptionally huge, and a plum red, but they were just the right size for her big white tits. Her nipples were thick and stiff, nearly an inch long, and as she touched them lightly the fire in her weeping cunt was fanned into new life.
As the self-pitying mother watched her fingers in the mirror, she wondered if doing something like this in front of Bob would help. Or was he too old, too tired, too jaded? He's no longer a teenager, she thought, everything excites them! Thinking of teenagers brought Mark to her mind, and she couldn't help smiling at the thought of his walking in on her.
His eyes would pop right out of his head, Myra giggled silently, watching her fingers approach the thick curls of her wet cunt. The pink folds hung, glistening, anxiously awaiting her touch, their plump weight pushing out of the dark bush. Two slender fingers stroked them, parted them, then slipped up into her seething tunnel, beginning to pump. Myra rotated her ass and moaned low in her throat as her thumb slowly massaged her protruding clit, making her pant.
"Ahhhh," she sighed, slipping a third finger into her cunthole.
It felt so good! Her head hung and her eyes were half-closed as she fantasized about Bob's love-making. They'd settled into a routine long ago. He would begin by rubbing and stroking her shoulders and back, and then work his way down to the sensitive mounds of her ass. After thoroughly squeezing and massaging her ass cheeks, he would kiss and lick them, then tongue her ass crack and follow it down to her cunthole. By then she was more than ready, first for his fingers and then for his cock, and he'd turn her over and slip his prick in quickly, fucking her hard and fast.
"Uhhh-h-h-h!" Myra groaned, hunching her hips toward her sliding fingers. Cunt juice was running down her knuckles and dripping onto the floor as her pussy flowered open and accepted the third finger.
She looked around her room, seeking something to use as a cock substitute. She dismissed perfume bottles, her hair brush, and some small ivory statues of Chinese princesses and monks. She wanted something big, something that would really give her hot cunt a workout. Then she saw it—Bob's emergency flashlight! It was a huge, four-battery piece of ridged metal with a big, flaring knob that would keep the fat cylinder from disappearing inside her.
She grabbed it and shivered. It was cold, but her cunt would soon warm it. Holding the flared end, she brought the other to the wet, pouting lips of her hungry pussy and pushed.
"Oh!" she gasped as the cold, metallic dildo sank into her mushy tunnel. She moved it in and out, sinking it deeper each time, and her wet, pink folds smacked and sucked loudly at it. She softly massaged her protruding clit with the first finger of her free hand, coaxing her climax as she began to move her hips.
Myra was hunched forward a little as she fucked herself with the flashlight, and her huge tits swayed gently back and forth. The hot, musky aroma of her cunt filled her nostrils and excited her. Her ass cheeks quivered, her hips swung, and the plump folds of her pussy clung tightly to the ridged metal sides of the imitation cock.
Myra's cunt felt like a time bomb, slowly ticking its way toward detonation. Tick tock, tick tock, fuck in, fuck out . . . She knew that time was running out and that she was going to cum, going ... to ... cum!
"Ah! Ohmigod! Ohhhh-h-h-h, oh! Oh!" Myra gasped loudly, shuddering as her hips pumped violently at the flashlight.
Mark's ear hurt from being pressed so hard against his mother's bedroom door, but it didn't ache half as much as the long, fat cock in his fist. What his eyes weren't able to see, his imagination was more than willing to sup-ply, so he fucked his fist while listening to the strangely exciting sighs and groans of his mother's masturbation. As he caught the hot jets of jism in his cupping palm, the boy wished he was able to make his mother groan like that every night. He knew he wanted to do more than play with himself, and he was sure she wanted more than that, too.
It just wasn't fair that the both of them had to cum alone, he thought.
As Bob drove to the office his thoughts were, as always, on the girl he'd seen in the convent yard a few days ago.
Ever since his early twenties, he'd had a favorite daydream: kidnapping an innocent young virgin and keeping her a captive, teaching her what it meant to be a woman, and making her enjoy it in spite of herself. As the years passed, this daydream grew more and more elaborate, and more and more he searched for ways to make it come true.
She'd been standing in the yard, he remembered, a wispy little teenaged girl wearing the cloths of a novice. But those clothes did little to hide the huge tits threatening to burst free. They were forties, at least, he guessed and were incredibly pointed for their size, even taking into account the molding of a bra. The girl was short, no more than five feet tall, and her waist was small, giving her breasts the impression of even greater size. Bob's mouth had watered and his cock had stiffened at first sight.
Of course, her tits alone wouldn't have fired his imagination in such a way, but her doll-like face with its brown, very large eyes and full, pouty lips endowed her with an irresistible innocent sexuality. Bob was hooked and for the past two days he had been planning how to make his dreams come true. He was, somehow, going to make her a slave to her orgasms, orgasms brought on by him, until she was not only willing, but anxious for his visits!
Little work was accomplished in his office that night, and when Bob returned home Myra was already asleep. Her nipples lifted and darkened the sheet, but he never gave them a glance. His mind was too filled with the thought of seeing the girl tomorrow morning. He was sure he would, for almost every morning she was the one supervising the grade-school orphans as they played. Sometimes Bob would park his car and anticipate the leaping of her massive tits as she chased some giggling boy or girl.
His dreams that night began when he was still awake and able to steer them in the direc-tion he wished. He saw his dream-girl standing waiting for him, her arms outstretched and her milk-white tits swaying slightly as she stepped toward him. His cock stiffened under the sheet, but he kept his hand away from it. He was saving his thick cum for the day his dream-girl opened her legs to him. And with that thought, he drifted off into a deep sleep.
When Myra woke the next morning, the first thing she saw was Bob's hard-on tenting the sheet. She felt her pussy grow warm and tingly, and reached out and slowly drew the sheet from her husband's body. She eyed his hard cock and full balls, then took the thick shaft in a loose grip. Its heat made her palm sweaty, and she became even more excited. She was so horny she couldn't resist throwing one leg over his waist and lowering her dripping cunt onto his bulging cock knob.
"Ahhhh," she sighed happily as the fat bulb entered her steaming pussy. She felt the elastic rim of her cunt-mouth clamp down on his prick.
Gently, slowly, Myra lowered her throbbing cunt onto his hard-on until her ass cheeks touched his balls. She wanted to jump up and down and bring herself off quickly, but she knew Bob would wake up if she did. Controlling herself, she bounced up and down with slow, steady movements, her big tits jumping and rolling in time to her fucking. Her big nipples were standing out long and hard and Myra's fingers began rolling them.
"Ummph ..." Bob mumbled.
Myra panicked. He was waking! Frantic for her cum, she began really pounding her cunt on his cock.
"Umph . . . ?" Bob opened his eyes and sat up quickly. Looking down, he saw that his cock had disappeared in the hairy juncture of his wife's thighs. He turned quickly sideways and rolled her off.
"Jeez! Myra!" Bob said, "Look at the time! Shit, I'm going to be late!"
"But you never fuck me any more!"
"Shit, is that all you think about? I'm working my ass off for you and the kid, can't you control that cunt of yours?"
"I-I couldn't help it. I saw your stiff cock, and all I could think of was how long I've gone without it!" She spread her legs wide. "Remember this, Bob?" she said, spreading her cuntlips with her fingers. "It's burning up for you. I'm dying for a little loving, Bob. Please!"
"Oh, shit! Here, if you've got to get off that bad . . . " He grabbed her hand and forced it between her legs.
"Oh! No, you can't . . . Ahhhhh!" Bob briskly forced her fingers to fly back and forth over her wet clit. She was already so close to coming that she couldn't hold back her orgasm. She closed her eyes and cried as her clit blazed and her orgasm rushed through her cunt.
"There," he said, throwing her limp hand back on the bed. "Now you know what to do when you can't control yourself!" And he stalked out of the room and into the bathroom.
When Bob reached the bathroom he began to feel guilty and ashamed of his actions. Myra was right, he had been neglecting her, but only because he didn't want her to know he couldn't get it up for her any more. She just didn't excite him like she used to. He knew it wasn't her fault, but his. He knew he wasn't being fair to her. He still loved her!
He thought about returning to his bedroom and apologizing. But then he turned his thoughts to the girl at the convent. She was the one he wanted more than anything else in the world.