him crazy. He had to try the terrace tonight. His cock was like a bar of iron in his jeans. A fresh pair of jeans. Next time, he'd get his pants off before he jerked off.
He passed the evening in his room. He watched television on the small set he had. He thought about his mother. He looked at a few skin magazines. He liked the women when they looked like his mother. He liked it when they showed everything. At times, he imagined the wide-open cunt the girl was showing was his mother's cunt. Would she smile like that when she showed her cunt? Maybe she would. He wondered if she showed her cunt to her boyfriends. He imagined playing with her pussy, sticking two fingers inside her cunt and getting her off. The girls he dated said he had a nice touch. He knew how to rub a clit while he had his fingers in a cunt hole. Sticky fingers in a hot pussy.
Finally, he heard his mother go into her bedroom. It was late. She'd be in bed soon. She had her own bathroom connected to her bedroom. She never came in to say good night when he had his door closed. She said everyone was entitled to some privacy. Tie knew she usually turned the light out in her room thirty or forty minutes after she went lit for the night. She
watched television or she read a magazine or a book. He knew the whole routine. She was in for the night now. If he intended to use the terrace tonight, it was time to do it.
Once again, he felt guilty. Then he told himself he was going to do it. He was going to do it now. There was no use pretending. He told himself not to be chicken about it. He had to chance it. If the shade was up just an inch, he'd be able to see everything.
He started shaking as he moved to the window. He had to stop to get hold of himself. He couldn't go out there shaking like a tree. Finally, he calmed down. He carefully opened the window an inch at a time. It was a warm night. When the window was opened wide enough, he carefully eased himself over the windowsill and onto the terrace.
A black night. Just a few stars, and no moon. He realized it couldn't be more ideal. There was no reason why he couldn't pull it off if he was careful. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he crawled along the terrace to the window of her bedroom. Only a few feet. He felt as though he'd been waiting for this moment for years and years. Now he was shaking again. This time, it was anticipation. He stopped moving. He waited until he was calm again. He crawled
forward.
Then he was there, at one side of her window.
The shade was up just a crack at the bottom. Just enough to see. He moved a bit more. His heart was in his throat as he looked through the crack. He could see nearly the whole bedroom. And there she was.
She moved suddenly and he pulled back. His heart was pounding in his ears. She'd be damned angry if she ever found him at it. He hated it when she was angry. She would give him the silent treatment, not talk to him for days, until she decided to forgive him. But this would be more serious than anything he'd ever done. This would be a big thing between them if she ever found out.
It didn't matter. He was pulled toward the window again. Just on the side. His eyes at the crack between the bottom of the window shade and the bottom of the window. There she, was again. She was still wearing her robe. She had her back to him. She was doing something at her dressing table. Puttering with her jewelry. Then his breath caught in his throat as her arms moved and her robe suddenly came off. Completely off. She tossed it onto a nearby chair.
He trembled. The view was perfect. She wore
a white bra and the dark pantyhose. Her lush ass was completely revealed by the sheer nylon. Sheer all the way up. The crack of her ass was clearly visible. She kept her back towards the window. She stepped out of her mules. With a deft movement of her arms, she unhooked her bra in back and slipped it off. Then her pantyhose. Her hands were tugging at the waist, pulling the nylon down over her hips, down over her thighs. She stripped one leg at a time, her body bent, the movements quick and certain, and then she straightened up again and tossed the pantyhose onto the dressing table.
For the first time in his life, Clay saw his mother completely naked. Just the back. Her back and ass and legs. His heart beat like a drum in his chest. He wanted to see the front. He was afraid to breathe, afraid she would suddenly vanish.
Then finally she turned. She turned her body in profile to the mirror above her dressing table. She looked at the mirror. She pulled in her stomach and cupped her tits in her hands.
Her gorgeous tits! He could see her tits and part of her cunt bush. Her tits were a dream. Big and heavy, the nipples arrogant. She had a round belly, and below that was a forest of dark pussy hair.
He was crazy with excitement. Nothing had ever been so exciting for him. He watched her as she examined her figure in front of the dressing table mirror. She still had her tits in her hands. Then she released her tits and ran both hands over her belly, pushing it in. She briefly ran her fingers through her cunt bush, then moved her hands around to stroke her asscheeks.
He had a knot in his throat. He gasped as he realized he had to breathe. He watched every movement as she lifted a magazine from the dressing table, as she walked over to the bed and stretched out on the bedspread. She was a dream! The most beautiful woman in the world, naked on a bed not ten feet away.
His knees were hurting, but he was afraid to move. He didn't want to move. He didn't want anything to change. He was afraid that if he shifted his body, the whole thing would disappear. He continued watching her as she turned the pages of the magazine. She had one knee raised, the knee closest to him, and because of that, he couldn't see her cunt bush anymore. But he could see her tits, the hang of her tits and her thick nipples. His mouth watered. He told himself he'd give both arms away to get one of those tits in his mouth.
Then she raised the other knee and his eyes popped out of his head as she slipped her free hand between her thighs. Oh no, it couldn't be. But it was. He could see everything. She was playing with her pussy. Stroking it with her fingers. Then she started rubbing her cunt. He could see her hand moving up and down as she rubbed herself. Her thighs fell open. She had her thighs spread wide as she vigorously rubbed her cunt.
Finally, she put the magazine down and concentrated on her pussy. Her eyes were closed. She had a look of intense pleasure on her face. Clay cursed under his breath. He forgot all about his hurting knees. He was too excited to care about his knees. She was jerking off! It was more than he'd bargained for. Instead of just seeing her naked, he was actually getting to watch her whack off. It was crazy. His own mother! He had never thought about her that way. Not jerking off. What a turn-on. He trembled as he watched it.
Her fingers were flying now. He couldn't see much of her cunt, just her hand and wrist jerking up and down.
Then she bucked her ass and turned her head to one side. He heard her groan. She was coming. Her arm was a blur as she brought
herself off. It was maddening for him. He watched to the end of it, watched until she pulled her hand away from her cunt and rolled over on her side. She pulled at the bedspread and covered her body with it.
The youth couldn't take anymore. He crawled back to his window. He climbed into his room and lay down on his bed, gasping for breath.
CHAPTER THREE
'You must be a weight-lifter,' Barbara said. She was sitting in her office in the boutique.
The shop was closed and she had a young stud with her. His name was Ricky. A sharp young stud with muscles. In the morning, he'd delivered a load of clothes to the store and she'd flirted with him. Now he was back. They'd had a drink and, at her invitation, he was taking his clothes off.
He smiled at her as he tossed his tee-shirt
aside. 'Yeah, I work out with weights.'
'You look it. You've got a gorgeous body.' What she wanted was a quick fuck before leaving the shop. He looked capable. She sat back and watched him as he finished undressing. Finally, he was down to his white Jockey shorts. He did have a gorgeous body. Wide shoulders and strong thighs. And that lovely bulge in the front of his shorts. Lots of goodies in there. He also had a nice suntan. He couldn't be more than twenty.
She called him over. He came forward with a grin and a slight swagger. He was so sure of himself. When he
