Chapter 2
"Candles, Chinese food, lights reflecting off the lake, what could be more beautiful?" Kip said as they were finishing their evening meal.
Lots of things, Susan thought to herself, lots of things. She just smiled and poured more wine for herself and her son. All day long her mind had been on him. On his body. On his cock. She wanted to touch it. That was all, nothing more, she just wanted to touch it. Somehow it would make her fulfilled, complete. Just to place her long soft fingers on it and caress it.
"What do you think?" Kip said.
"What?" Susan looked up. "I was lost in thought, I'm sorry!"
"I was wondering if we could take a vacation before I have to go off to college," Kip said, sipping his wine. "I know you and Dad had been just about every place but the moon, but well, I've been stuck in the wilds of Vermont and . . . "
"Darling, yes, of course. Anywhere you like! That's a promise!" Susan proposed a toast, winked at him, and drank up.
"I'd really like to go to San Francisco, I think!" Kip blurted out.
Susan almost laughed out loud. "I expected you to say Paris or Athens or some far enchanting place, and you want to go to San Francisco!"
"Chris says it's the most wonderful city in the whole country, bar none! He's from there and he's not going to get to go home till Christmas because of the summer course he's taking at Yale."
"Who's Chris?" Susan asked.
"Christopher Brady, my best friend. You met him, remember?"
Susan remembered the boy. He was dark and handsome, a year older than her son. "Yes, but we hardly got the chance to say two words to each other."
"You will, someday," Kip said, getting up from the table. He walked to the balcony overlooking the entire city and stood leaning over the railing.
Susan joined him. She looked at him from behind, marveled at how strong and healthy he looked in his tight white pants. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his muscles and shoulders gleamed in the moonlight. Susan was radiant. Her hair had been given a bit of a curl that afternoon and it hung in soft rings over her beautiful face, outlining it like a beautiful frame surrounding an exquisite painting. Her long flowing dress hid her body from view, but anyone would know there was a treasure beneath it. She could be sexy in a mink coat or a burlap bag. And Kip was beginning to really notice it.
They stood there and talked about the past, the new friendship they felt, the closeness they felt after all the years of being separated.
"I imagine you miss your girl friends back East," Susan remarked softly.
"Well, I didn't have many. No one special, if that's what you mean. I was awfully busy at school, did some sports, too, but I was never a jock." Kip poured another glass of wine for himself.
Susan looked out over the lake. "I suppose you're anxious to meet some girls here. It's going to be a long hot summer."
"Well, you know, I'm as horny and sexual as any other kid of eighteen, oops, sorry, not till next month, but I'm not dying to find anyone. I'm pretty happy here with you." Kip looked into her eyes. He was only being honest. Nevertheless, in the back of his mind floated the thoughts he had dreamt in the afternoon. He didn't want to tell her he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he didn't want to tell her he had always liked older women. He just let her know he was happy being with her.
"And I love you," Susan said, kissing him on the cheek.
The wine, the good food, the talk, it all had an effect; they were both sleepy. Susan wished Kip sweet dreams and went off to bed. Kip stayed up for a while yet, writing a letter to his friend Chris. He needed to tell someone about the afternoon, about what he had thought, and Chris was the only one he could tell. He was his only real friend, the only person he could be completely honest with. So he told him, not in great detail, but enough to let him know what it was all about and he asked Chris what he thought of the situation.
After he finished the letter, he had one more glass of wine and went to his room. He closed the door and pulled his drapes shut. Susan heard his door open again as he went to the bathroom, then she heard the toilet flush and the tap water running, and finally, " 'Nite, Mom!" as he went to his room.
Susan was reading a book, relaxing on the bed in her soft, almost transparent nightgown. Her breasts heaved the book up and down. The dark of her crotch could be seen through the material and the flowers embroidered on it danced in her thick pubic hairs. She was reading and then she was not. For her mind was only on her son. And what he had said. And how he looked. And what she wanted to do to him. Touch him, that was all. A quivering deep inside her thighs told her she would never fall asleep. She lay there for what seemed like hours, thinking, dreaming, rubbing her beautiful tits and spreading her legs, then contracting them and feeling the material brush lightly over her cunt. Finally she couldn't stand it any longer. She got up and opened the door to the hallway.
Kip couldn't sleep either. He tossed and turned, under the covers, on top of the covers, walked, around, fell back to the bed. He was spread out there, bare naked on the big bed, his legs spread as he played with his burning penis. He wanted one thing, the thing he had thought about in the bathroom, the thing he had written to Chris about. He wanted his mother to watch him jack off! He remembered Chris telling him once that his mom had caught him and three other boys jerking off behind the garage and she gave him a good beating. Kip wouldn't mind to have HIS mother catch him. He somehow thought she'd like it.
His eyes were shut and his right hand was on his stomach, inches from the tip of his cock, when he heard a creaking sound in the hall. His cock jumped. Mother! She was out there. He kept his eyes shut through it all. He never saw it, never saw her. He just felt it. The door handle turned and his door opened a crack. Susan looked in and stopped dead. There was his huge cock, outlined only by the dim moonlight streaming in from behind the drapes. She looked at it for a long time, as she had that afternoon, and then looked at his face. He was asleep. Or was he? Susan opened the door farther. Kip didn't move. He was asleep.
She stepped into the room and stopped at the foot of her son's bed. His legs were spread before her. She could see the dark outline of the young man's hairy balls snuggled silently between his legs. Susan almost stopped breathing as her mind raced. What was she doing? She almost couldn't believe she had mustered up the nerve to enter the room, but she was there and she didn't want to leave. All she wanted to do was touch it. That's all, just feel it with her fingertips. She thought she must be crazy, standing there over her grown nude boy, knowing that he would probably wake up if she touched him. But nothing was rational anymore. She was a woman, a young hungry sensual woman, before she was a mother. And all the drive in that woman, her head, her beautiful lips, her swollen breasts, her magnificent hips, her hot, juicy cunt, her shapely legs . . . every bit of her was focused toward the naked hunk of masculinity in front of her. She stood there, in bliss, watching the boy's cock as it softened a bit and settled against his stomach.
Kip's head was bursting. He could hear her breathing and smell her faint perfume. He sensed her presence with every pore in his body, but he would not open his eyes. In a moment the fear left him and his mind started to imagine things-his mother stroking him, his mother cupping his balls in her beautiful small hands, his mother climbing onto the bed, kneeling on either side of his face, slowly moving down, her beautiful dripping cunt approaching his face, his nose, his lips, his tongue.
As he thought of his mother's beautiful tight throbbing cunt being lowered to his lips, his cock rose higher than ever. It was ready to burst. His scrotum tightened and pulled up as the penis lifted itself into the air. His mother's cunt, he thought, kissing it, eating it, sliding his tongue deep inside her, tasting the sweet honey that would pour from it.
Susan felt her legs give way as she watched the boy's throbbing young cock rise. It begged for her, wanted her, compelled her, and she moved to the side of the bed. Kip was still asleep and she wondered what he was dreaming. She slowly unbuttoned her nightgown and in one quick motion placed her numb hand on the mound between her legs. It was wet already. The finger found the protruding clitoris and held firmly against it. She reached out her other hand, over the bed, afraid but knowing there was nothing else she could do at that point. She sat gently and quietly on the bed next to the beautiful boy.
Kip's mind ran rampant; he was licking her cunt, kissing beneath it, licking her ass, biting, sucking, begging her to come in his mouth. She pulled away, her knees on his arms, begging for it.
His cock was standing on end, bursting. Susan held her breath, pushed her finger deep into her cunt, and let just two fingers touch the tip of his penis. She grasped. It was hot. It felt silky and soft. It felt hard. She ran her fingertips up and down it, gently touching his balls.
She pushed three fingers inside her vagina, rushing them in and out now, quickly, silently. Her hand opened above the penis, stopped for a moment as she felt herself beginning to pour into her other hand, and clasped her fingers and palm around the gigantic cock. It shot! Come burst forth in a long, steady stream. She didn't move her hand, didn't move the boy's penis. Her fingers were frozen around it and the come poured down, like a mountain top covered with fresh snow.
Mother! Mother! Come! Come! Kip saw the cunt above him dripping onto his face. His mother screamed and she shook and brought her body down over his face and was silent. Kip felt the release in his balls as the hand remained tightly clasped around his aching cock.
Susan watched it closely, withdrawing her other hand from her own spent cunt, and waited until the flow was over. Then she lifted her hand, carefully unwrapping her fingers in the sticky hot come, and pulled it away. She looked at it, tasted it just slightly with a flick of her tongue, then wiped it against her nightgown. She looked at the boy. He was still asleep. She thought, that's what you really call a wet dream, Kip! She smiled and stood up. There was a happy, peaceful smile on her son's face as she left the room.