bound to need physical love, and you might as well have it at home instead of with strangers.'
She looked at Peter. 'Who's this friend you spoke to?'
Peter grinned. 'We promised not to tell. Mom. Our friend told us some secrete so there's nothing to worry about. Our friend won't talk to anybody.'
Donny stroked the full flesh of his mother's breast through the flimsy fabric of her peignoir. 'You'll do it then, Mom? Can we count on making love to you whenever we want to? Geeze, I'm getting excited just thinking about it.'
'Well right now, it's time to feed you two. Let me wash up and you can both do the same. I'll fix pancakes this morning and you two fix the juice and set the table for me, okay?'
'Yeah Mom, we'll really need a big breakfast today. I'm starving,' Peter said as he jumped out of bed and embraced his mother. 'Gosh Mom, you're really pretty. I never seen nicer tits, even on women in magazines.'
His reference and language caused Polly to blush, but his hand on the breast that Donny had not been stroking brought heat to her loins.
My God, she thought, can this really happen to me? A little while ago I was a widow and only mildly aware of my frustrations and only mildly curious about a new neighbor. Here I am now, the lover of two teenagers who are my own sons, and my body's on fire to have them again right now.
CHAPTER FOUR
Polly didn't allow herself to think about what had happened in the boys' room. They ate excitedly and carried on a running commentary about their plans for the day, and as soon as they finished, they jumped up, quickly grabbed their beach gear and left. As Donny pecked her on the cheek his hand caressed her full, soft breast through her robe, and then he was gone out the door behind Peter.
She was startled at the casual way they had handled a situation that was so packed with emotion for her.
After setting her house in order, Polly showered and did her hair and make up. While brushing her lovely auburn hair in front of the bathroom full-length mirror, she looked at her nude form. She still had a lovely body, although no longer as lithe and supple as she had had when she first met Ben. The lovely, slightly pouting breasts had been firmer and poked their pink nipples proudly into the air. Her hips were slimmer too. Now her stomach had a slight swell below her navel and her thighs had thickened a little. She was still a beautiful woman for her thirty-seven years, though. Her luxurious auburn hair and green eyes were her crowning glory.
Ben had met her while she'd been trying to break into modeling. He was a photographer then for an agency she was working for. She modeled lingerie and swim attire, her body then being too robust and healthy and her breasts too large to qualify her as an emaciated high-style model.
She and Ben instantly fell in love and soon she was living with him. It was frowned upon by most people then, but neither of them had a family of their own, and they simply didn't care what the world thought. Ben was also a man who didn't want his wife to work, but since she was still determined to make it in the modeling field, she refused to marry him and forsake her career ambitions. They had compromised, and it had been a good arrangement for the both of them.
Three years later she discovered she was pregnant. Ben had quit photographing fashion models and had become a recognized expert in news coverage with his cameras. After talking it over they realized they both wanted a family and marriage had followed. Polly quit posing and settled down to await the birth of their baby.
When the doctor told her that she'd had two healthy boys that were mirror images of each other, she was in seventh heaven. Ben had nearly killed himself celebrating with his cronies.
Five years later they bought land south of San Francisco, on the beach, and a year later moved into their own home.
Ben traveled a great deal as a news photographer, but he made a point of spending as much time as possible with his family. He and Polly had developed a very active and diversified sex life during their single days living together, and having a family didn't change their habits any. Neither was inhibited about discussing with the other, some fantasy or desire. They had experimented with many forms of giving mutual pleasure. One thing always remained the same though, and that was that Polly was most excited and turned on when subjected to dominance. Ben learned to treat her with a loving yet masterful manner during their private moments. Polly reveled in submitting to his demands. He tied her up and taunted her with passion and threats of degradation. She squirmed when she thought of the ways she'd slavishly served him and in the end had her own body ravished and completely loved by her husband. He always had her dress in flowing gowns with sheet peignoirs and nylons with a garter belt. High-heeled pumps added to the allure of her graceful and supply figure. Oral attention was lavished on every part of Ben's body, and then after a full orgasm, he would reverse the rolls and drive her out of her mind with passion and lust. She was often placed in a particularly lewd position and tied securely. Ben would then tease her and build her body's passion to the boiling point before finally satisfying her with an orgasm that would usually leave her semiconscious. Afterwards, they would lay in each others arms and tenderly love each other while the sounds of the surf and the ocean breezes would finally lull them into deep sleep.
Polly remembered one night when the boys had reached their tenth birthdays, and Polly remarked to Ben how their small sex organs were beginning to really develop. Ben held her and slowly created a fantasy for her in which she was being ravished by her two husky sons while he sat and directed them. Polly had been a bit uncomfortable at first, but as Ben warmed to the subject, she had grown more passionate and finally, while he sank his hardened shaft into her soaked cunt, she'd moaned out to her fantasy lovers all of the sexual acts she yearned for them to commit with her. Ben had gone wild with lust and pounded her prone body for half the night. She remembered him shooting his come into her many times that night, and each time she experienced a mind- staggering orgasm of her own.
Those strange and forbidden fantasies hadn't been talked about again. Ben had been killed two months later in a plane crash.
If it hadn't been for the quiet loving strength of the boys, Polly would have probably lost her mind to the overwhelming grief. It was almost a year before she regained her full composure, but then things had settled down to a comfortable boredom that helped heal her broken heart and shattered mind.
Polly and the boys had been well provided for, and she had been contacted by some of Ben's old friends in the news services and now did occasional fashion consultant jobs for the yearly shows. She traveled only once or twice a year to Europe to update her material, and while gone, a local woman took care of the boys. Her personal life had been celibate until this morning.
She dated very infrequently, and then ft was usually tied in with an assignment or with an old friend who might happen by. She'd met Stephen Lark on the beach one morning while walking. His warm and undemanding nature made him easy to be with. They'd dined together a few times, but he'd always refrained from mentioning his personal life. He had told her that his wife had left him five years earlier, and he'd taken complete charge of their daughter, Sandy. Polly knew that he'd been a college professor some years ago, but that after having written a successful book on one of his field trips, he'd abandoned the academic life for the free and easy life of a world traveler and writer. She also knew that they did a great deal of traveling in their spacious boat. They had a lovely house they rented year round, on the beach, but spent more time on the boat. Steve said he maintained it to give Sandy a feeling of permanence somewhere in the world.
Sandy was a lovely, fifteen-year-old blonde, like her father. Her shape was lovely, and her healthy body was a joy to watch, either running on the beach or astride one of the horses they rented, as she'd seen them earlier that morning. Sandy had been quietly polite to her, and a trifle wistful when she'd looked at Polly and the boys. Her deep-blue eyes had looked sad when she heard of the family activities that Polly and the boys always had going. Polly had invited her to the house a few times, but Sandy had never accepted an invitation. She always excused herself by saying that her father needed her to help with his work. Polly knew that Sandy was tutored by her father, and she demonstrated a keen and inquiring mind. Polly realized that her traveling had probably broadened her as much as the tutoring.
The thoughts of Sandy and her father brought the image of her sons to her mind. The sight of their
