asked.
'God, no! Mom wouldn't let me see her like that! No way!' young Michael said, soothed somewhat by the soft stroking of the woman's foot against his cheek.
'That's just terrible, Michael dear. You Masterson men would never learn anything about sex if it weren't for me. I won't tell your parents on you if you go ahead and massage my ankle like a good boy,' she smiled.
Carol closed her eyes in bliss when she felt the boy's hands on her foot. His hands were a bit cold at first, attesting to his extreme nervousness. His hands grew steadily warmer, however, as he stoked the silken skin of her foot. Carol's seething cunt grew warmer, too. She had to let the kid see her twat. She had to introduce the eighteen-year-old young man to fucking.
'Michael, were you upset when I asked you about being massaged?' 'Were you hun?' Carol whispered. 'Is there something I should know?'
'Christ, no!' the boy gasped.
'Something tells me you're not telling the truth, darling,' she said sternly. 'Out with it! And if it doesn't sound like the truth, I'll get on the phone and call your mother. Imagine a boy your age looking up my dress!' she said.
'Jesus! I don't want to tell you! I don't want to tell anyone! I promised I wouldn't tell anybody!' the boy said.
'But you must tell, Michael. And keep rubbing my foot while you tell me all about this little secret. Out with it! No lies! I can tell very easily when a young man is lying to me. My, but your hands feel good…' she sighed.
'If I have to tell,' the poor defenseless boy muttered, barely audibly. 'I hurt myself once and Mom made it feel better. That's all,' he said so quickly that Carol hardly heard him.
'My goodness, Michael, slow dawn! Where on earth did you hurt yourself? It must have been a terribly private place to cause you such embarrassment. I want to know. What happened, Michael?' she said.
'I can't tell!' the boy said, almost crying.
'Very well!' she replied, reaching for the phone on a little table near the settee.
'No, no! I'll tell! I caught my… my 'thing' in my zipper,' he said, his face turning bright red.
'Your thing!' Carol laughed, unable to control herself.
When she realized how serious the confession was, she felt the dizzying tunings of depravity stirring deep inside her cunt.
'But you said your mother massaged you once when you got hurt. Are you telling me that she massaged you there?' Carol asked, sitting up suddenly, fascinated by this unexpected turn in their conversation.
'Well, I didn't want her to,' the boy whispered,
as if afraid to speak out loud.
'Are you telling me that your mother rubbed your 'thing' for you when you hurt it? Joyce did that? Joyce? With all her prudish ideas about how to raise a family? When did this happen, Michael?' she asked, her pussy seething with nasty excitement.
'A couple of weeks ago,' he said in a muted voice.
'Did it make you feel good, Michael? How did her hands feel when she touched you there? Were they warm? Were they soft?' Carol hissed, patting the cushion at her side, inviting the eighteen-year-old boy to sit beside her.
'Sure they were soft and warm! God, it made me feel good!' he said, suddenly realizing how deep he was sinking into a full confession.
'Did your dick get hard? Did it stick straight up? Did your nice young balls feel warm inside and tingly? Did she rub it up and down faster and faster? Did she rub it until your balls ached?' Carol asked, growing uncontrollably excited, uncontrollably lusty.
'God, yeah! But how do you know all that?' the boy gasped, staring at her with innocent amazement..
'Silly question, Michael,' the lovely woman cooed. 'All girls know about things like that. But your own mother! Shame on you! And shame on her! You should have someone outside your family to make you feel good that way when you hun,' she smiled.
Carol reached down and put her hand in the
young boy's lap. She felt his warm cock and balls through the fairly tight denim of his pants. She began kneading the young boy's genitals with her eager fingers, looking into his eyes as she did so. The kid's eyes almost bugged out of his head when she squeezed his cock and balls. She did not relent.
'What are you doing?' Michael gasped, obviously terrified, afraid that he would respond in the only way his body could, afraid that he would respond by getting a hard-on like he had when his mother had touched his dick.
'Is this what she did to you, Michael? What a terrible thing for a mother to do to her eighteen-year-old son! And yet I can't blame her. You're so young and innocent, so warm and sweet. And your cock is getting stiff! Your eighteen-year-old dick is getting stiff under your pants! I can feel it, darling! Am I making that happen to you, little lover? Am I turning you on?' Carol asked, her fingers working slowly but insistently on the boy's covered prick.
'Don't! Gosh, Miss Chambers! Please don't do that! I might…' the excited kid begged..
'You might squirt your cum? Is that what you might do?' she asked.
'God, yes! You don't want me to do that-do you?' the boy asked.
'That's exactly what you did when your mother jacked you off, isn't it, Michael?' Carol hissed, still pumping his growing hard-on.
'She didn't jack me off! She didn't! Really! Honest to God! She just massaged me!' the boy said, begging her to believe him but knowing that
his mother had jacked him off just the way Carol was saying.
'Don't be ridiculous, dear! She got horny and went after her eighteen-year-old son! And your cock shot jizz all over her! I'll bet she felt sorry afterwards. Didn't she, Michael? Didn't she get mad at you?' Carol asked, her fragrant cunt melting between her legs with sensual fire.
'Yeah, she got mad,' the boy admitted. 'But it wasn't my fault. I couldn't help it! It just came out real fast. And it's gonna come out again! It's gonna happen again the same way if you keep doin' that to me!' the boy gasped, afraid of what she might do or say when he shot off.
'That's perfectly all right with me, Michael dear. I want it to happen. I want to make you feel good. Don't be afraid, honey. You can make me feel good, too, later. Just let it come!' she said, squeezing his. hard little dick inside his denim pants, squeezing and rubbing it at the same time.
The boy squirmed on the settee, his legs as stiff as a board, his arms at his sides, his fists clenched. He was fighting off his impending orgasm with all his might. But there was no fighting the lovely older woman who sat beside him, no fighting off the power of her wantonness, no fighting off the mystery of her beauty and the ability she had to make a boy her slave. He was losing in his battle and they both knew it.
Carol redoubled the speed of her rubbing up and down the boy's twitching dick. Her dress was nicked up now, her naked leg rubbing against the material of the boy's pants. She knew that the kid
could feel her warmth spreading through him, knew that he could feel the warm presence of her body so close to him, knew that he was aware of her femininity deep down inside him, aware of her always despite the confusing and sexually stirring and growing inside his tense young balls. She watched with wicked joy as his face suddenly grew twisted into a look of pleasure-pain. She knew he was coming.
'I can't help it, Miss Chambers!' he cried as he felt his hot young nuts exploding between his tense legs.
Carol felt the wetness of his ejaculated sperm spread over his crotch. The boy almost jumped to his feet when his cock chat off. She held him down and kept kneading his cock and balls. She could feel his dick jerking wildly as he came, spreading his jizz all over his underpants. She felt sorry for the boy's hard little dick, all crammed inside his pants, forced to squirt in such close quarters. She thought he should let his dick out into the open. She waited until his cock stopped shooting and let him calm down a bit before she went any further with her dirty plans.
'Wasn't that nice. Michael? A boy should feel like that all the time, especially when he's so young and sweet,' Carol said, kissing the young kid on the lips. 'You mustn't let your mother do things like that to-you. Let Carol do it for you, dear. I can make you feel even better than that. Do you believe me?' she asked, planting little kisses all over the boy's face between words.
Michael was ready to believe anything the
beautiful lady said, although he didn't understand how anyone could feel better than he did now. There was
