Aunt Peg’s Visit

Introduction:
AUNT PEG’S VISIT
Looking at my mother and her younger sister, it was hard to imagine that
they were separated in age by ten years. My aunt, recently divorced from
her very successful and work-addicted attorney husband, was an
exceptionally youthful-appearing 34-years-old woman. My mother, soon to
be 44, had the same tawny hair and blue eyes, the same slim feminine figure,
toned by tennis and aerobics. The family resemblance was striking. That
they were sisters was not questioned, but that they were ten-years apart was
remarkable.
We’d picked up Aunt Peg at the United Terminal at SFO this morning.
While my aunt and my mother were emotionally close, they’d not had the
chance to spend much time together in recent years, each pursuing separate
careers on opposite sides of the country. In some abstract way, mostly from
snapshots, I knew Aunt Peg as a good-looking woman but I wasn’t prepared
for the vivacious lady who walked with us to the Baggage Claim area. After
the crushing greeting Mom and Aunt Peg gave each other in the Arrivals
Area, she’d turned to me and, grabbing both my hands, held them out and
looked me up and down frankly for a moment before saying, “Billy! God,
you’re a grown-up man!”
I heard my mother comment, almost as an aside, “They rarely ever grow
*smaller*.”
Draping one arm over my shoulder and sliding the other under my arm,
she gave me a full-body hug . . . a long one. I was acutely aware of her
body. I could feel her breasts against my chest and her pelvis against mine. I
looked over her shoulder and saw my mother watching us with a broad,
approving smile on her face. If Mom only knew! She’d probably not be so
approving if she could read my mind. My thoughts were anything but
innocent. Quite the contrary, my thoughts were mostly lewd and lascivious.
Looking into my mom’s eyes – as I felt the slim body of her younger sister,
a near-carbon copy – I was remembering that I had been secretly turned on
by my mother for several years and this was the closest I’d come to feeling
her body.
Embarrassed at the sudden lurch in my groin at feeling my aunt’s body, I
pulled back. Aunt Peg held to me a moment longer and almost stumbled
forward when I stepped away. I could feel the heat in my face and hoped
that neither of them would notice my blush or my tumescence. Jezz . . . this
was my deep, dark secret and my body was betraying me.
Mom and Aunt Peg were beaming at each other and appeared not to
notice my discomfort. Yet, I knew my mom. She missed little, but in her
kindness and sensitivity, often chose to ignore it for the moment. Later,
however, she’d let me know that she’d noted whatever it was I was wishing
she hadn’t noticed. She always shared with me her thoughts and insights,
both of herself and me, and always in a gentle, loving manner and never with
moral judgement. She was a particularly accepting woman who loved me
without qualification. Still, I was capable of being embarrassed at my own
thoughts. They’d turned to a strong sexual interest in Mom in the past few
years, ever since I was fifteen or so. And now, with the added closeness of
these weeks of vacation before my last year of college, I was even more
aware of her.
In the five or six years since their divorce, I’d spent time with both my
parents without need to choose between them. Because my dad traveled so
much, there was never any debate where I’d stay finishing high school or,
more recently, college. Mom’s house was the natural choice. We became
good friends . . . even buddies. Our relationship changed. It matured. She
had gradually shared much of the emotional feelings about my dad. It was
clear that she still loved him on some levels, but had come to accept their
diverging paths. She dated infrequently . . . obviously, her choice.
I was aware that Mom accepted my sexuality as well as her own in a
forthright manner that I didn’t think my buddies had experienced with their
mothers. For instance, when I first started having wet-dreams, I was
mortified that she’d find out, but it was inevitable. She didn’t ignore the
soiled sheets and pretend nothing was going on. Rather, she found ways to
let me know that she knew and that it was normal. I can’t recall how she did
it, but in oblique ways she let me know that it was a desirable masculine
trait. Once, holding up a cum-stained sheet, she smiled at me and said,
“Aren’t you lucky?” I didn’t really know what she meant, but I got the
message that it was okay to have sexy dreams. And another time, picking
up the Jockeys that I’d forgotten, she fingered the stiff crotch and observed,
“I understand, Billy. I used to have the same problem.” That gave me a
jolt! What problem had she had?
I’d been aware of her sexy body since I was a young teenager. The years
we’d spent alone together had allowed a growing intimacy. My interest and
her increasing casualness provided many opportunities for me to “check her
out.” While I’d never seen her completely naked, I had seen almost all of
her body at one time or another. It never ceased to thrill me, but I could
never talk about it with my friends, and I’d die of shame if I thought she
knew. Despite her openness and nonjudgmental stance, I remained guilty
about my licentious desires. I hadn’t, and couldn’t, talk about my thoughts
with Mom. But when Aunt Peg arrived, several years of suppressed
imagery came boiling to my conscious. I was simultaneously thrilled at the
vague possibilities and horrified at my “dirty mind.”
“Aunt Peg . . . ,” I started to say at the same time my mom said, “Peg . .
.” We both stopped, waited and then laughed. I nodded to my mom to go
ahead, but Aunt Peg spoke first:
“Billy . . . may I call you Billy? . . . I’d be much more comfortable if you
called me Peg or even Peggy. Right now I don’t want to be an aunt . . . I
don’t want to be all grown up. I just want to hang out with you guys and let
you take care of me. Okay?”
“Sure, Aunt P . . . uh . . . Peggy,” I replied as Mom took her arm and
added, “My sweet sister, Peggy . . . we’d be delighted to take care of you.
You’ve no idea how Billy and I have been looking forward to your staying
with us. Our house is bigger than we need and with Billy home for the
summer and me at work each day, you can keep each other company. Can’t
she, Billy?”
Not waiting for a reply, Peg grabbed my arm and off we walked, three
abreast, to the Baggage Claim. “Abreast” is an apt description. Hugging
my right arm against her, I was keenly aware of the swell of Peg’s breast
against me. Her summer dress outlined her breasts and nipples, plainly
visible as they moved to her stride. As she turned her head to talk to Mom,
I dropped my glance into the loose top of her dress and saw flashes of the
upper swell of her right breast and the lacy, scanty cup of her bra. The strap
must have inserted on the side of the cup, for I could see a flash of areola
when she burst into laughter at some comment of Mom’s.
“Well . . . do you *want* to, Billy?” Peg’s voice brought me back to the
moment and I looked up to see both of them looking expectantly at me.
Peg and Mom both smiled at my discomfort, for my staring down the front
of Peg’s dress had been blatant. I was caught, red faced. This was going to
be a long summer.
“I said,” Peg continued, “would you like to baby sit me this afternoon?
Mary – that was my mother’s name, Mary – Mary says the hot tub’s been
fixed and I’d just like to kick back. But I don’t want to be alone. Will you
stay with me my first day?”
I’d already broken a tennis date with a friend when I had heard we were
going to pick up Aunt Peg. “You bet,” I replied, “I’d been expecting that
we’d visit this afternoon and . . .” looking up at the sunny California sky,
“with weather like this, the sun deck calls out to us!”
“That’s my son,” Mom said. “You can count on his enthusiasm when it
comes to soaking up UV.”
Looking across Peg at Mom, I was again struck by the resemblance of
these two women. They both looked younger than their ages and so good
looking my chest swelled with pride. I imagined every guy in the place was
envious of me.
After we’d loaded Peg’s numerous bags in the car, both in the trunk and
the front seat, I asked her, “What do you carry for a weekend . . . a single
steamer trunk?”
“Quit whining, big boy! I thought I was invited out for the whole
summer? Bikinis take up a lot of room!”
“I can sure tell that you and Mom are sisters! Remind me not to travel
with both of you at once, won’t you?”
The ride back from SFO, down I-280, was fast and pleasant. Glancing
over my right shoulder from time to time, I watched Mom and Peg in
animated conversation that was punctuated with frequent laughs and
squealing outbursts. Catching my eye in the rear-view mirror, Peg smiled
and gave me a broad wink when Mom said, “I hope you two don’t argue the
way we used to.”
“C’mon, Mary . . . you just remember me as a little kid. I’m *much*
easier than I used to be,” Peg protested.
I thought I heard Mom murmur something like, “If you’re any *easier*,
Billy’s in for it.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Oh, nothin’, you nosey kid,” Mom spoke up.
“Your Mom’s referring to my . . . uh, several relationships since the
divorce,” and turning to my mother, she said, “Isn’t that right?”
Mom appeared flustered for a moment, a rare phenomenon and then
apologized in a rush, “Oh, Peg! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I mean, that
was cruel of me and I’m truly sorry.” Then to me, “Billy, I’m ashamed of
myself. Your aunt’s a grown woman . . . not my kid sister anymore . . . and
she has a right to live her life any way she chooses. Whatever it sounded
like, I didn’t mean it that way. I love her and whatever she does is okay
with me.”
That last, I think, was directed more toward Peg than me, but I chimed
in anyway: “I’m really glad you’re so young. It’ll be like having a big sister.”
What “relationships” I wondered.
The moment of tension had passed and the last leg of the 45-minute trip
from the airport was made in a relaxed silence. As we drove up the
driveway to our home in the hills behind Stanford University, I spoke for the
first time in the last little while: “You’ll really like our home, Peg. I know
you’ve seen pictures, but they can’t capture the beauty and peace of the
place . . . huh, Mom?”
Before she could answer, we entered the circular drive in front of our
long, ranch-style redwood house framed by a couple of huge redwood trees.
Tami, the half-lab, adolescent hound came bounding out to greet us. “The
biggest danger of Tami is that she’ll slobber you to death,” I cautioned as we
all piled out.
Peg, screening her eyes, looked at the surrounding hills. While we’re
located on less than ten acres, the adjacent open-space lands to the south
gave the illusion that our place went on forever. “Nice digs,” she observed.
Mom gave Peg a hug and a peck on the cheek and explained again, “I’m
sorry to hug and run, but I’ve got a hot deal cookin’ and I need to be at the
office, especially today and probably tomorrow. Forgive me, won’t you?
Billy, you take care of your new ‘sister’, hear?”
We both waved her off and then I turned to Peg and said, “Well, it’s just
you and me, kid!”
“All right! Let’s get the luggage in and where’s that hot tub?”
We both made several trips and piled Peg’s bags in one of the guest
rooms closest to our rooms. Mom has the big master bed room and I have
a smaller room, down the hall, separated from her’s by a walk-in closet and,
next to that, the master bath. Actually, I shared the master bath with Mom,
even though there was a second bath on this floor and a third upstairs in the
guest wing of the house.
“You can use any of the bathrooms, Peg. Just make yourself at home.”
Looking right, then left, with a quizzical expression, Peg said, “Just point
me, Billy! I’ve gotta take a leak.”
How blunt, I thought. Nothing shy about this girl. My mother might
have asked to use the restroom, but I’d never heard a woman profess a
desire to ‘take a leak’. There was something honest, unpretentious, earthy
and even sexy about Peg wanting to take a leak. Raising both hands
and pointing in opposite directions, I said, “Your choice.”
“Be right with you,” she said as she ran off to the master bath. Then
louder, “Tell me again. How long have you and your mom been in this
house?”
“More than ten years,” I shouted, expecting to hear the bathroom door
slam.
Over the sound of her peeing, she said, “Would you give me a tour of
the place? In a minute that is,” she added, laughing.
In my mind’s eye, I could see her next door, just on the other side of that
wall. She flushed and then washed her hands, adding, “Let me change first,
okay? I showered this morning, but it seems like yesterday.”
She rounded the corner and walked into my bedroom where I’d been
looking, unseeing, out the window, listening to the bathroom sounds she
had made. Bending, she looked between the blinds into the sunny,
south-facing canyon and said, “Golly, every direction has a nice view!”
Again, I was aware of the touch of her breast on the back of my arm and
glancing at her, my heart stopped. Bent slightly at the waist, her dress had
fallen away and I had an unobstructed view of her bra-clad breasts. Zap!
My mind disengaged and for the second time, Peg caught me looking down
her dress.
Laying a hand on my arm she said, “I’m pleased that you like me, Billy!”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was impolite of me.”
“Billy, Billy, Billy! I may be your aunt, but I feel more like your big
sister, and we’re going to be living together for months, right?”
I nodded, dumbly and she went on, “Well, you’re probably going to see
more than this, so let’s just agree not to get embarrassed with each other.
Okay?”
“Gee, Peg . . . ,” I faltered and then didn’t know what to say.
“Can we be frank with each other? She asked, turning to look at me.
Motioning her to the seat by the window, I sat on the end of the bed and
said, “Sounds serious.”
Throwing her head back and shaking her tawny hair, exactly like Mom
does when she’s dismissing the importance of something, Peg replied,
laughing, “Well, only a little serious, guy. Actually, it’s more about me.
When I came out here I knew I’d talk with you about it . . . just came up
sooner than I planned is all.”
I hated “serious” conversations. I always felt as if the other shoe was
going to drop. One of the scariest things is when someone says, “I want to
talk with you later.” More often, it’s nothing of consequence, or they want
to thank me for something, or ask some trivial question . . . but my mind
makes it into a big deal. With more calm than I felt, I replied, “Shoot.”
Peg slipped off her shoes and pulled one foot under her other knee, then
leaned back in the chair, looking at me. She started, “Mary tells me that
you’re a very mature, levelheaded guy and that she trusts you with
everything. That right?”
I detected no direction to this conversation, but it seemed safe to reply,
“I think I’m level headed. How mature I am is arguable. Whether Mom
trusts me with *everything* . . . why, I don’t know.”
She leaned forward and wrapped her hands around her bent knee,
balanced for a moment, and then slowly allowed herself to rock back in the
chair, still holding her knee; this pulled her leg up and suddenly I could see
high up on one thigh. The late-afternoon son, which had me in shadow,
illuminated her legs and lower body. Shit! How could I listen to her and
not stare under her dress?
“No matter. I *do* know my sister and I trust her judgement. She told
me I could trust you, so I do. That’s it. Okay?”
“Okay with me, but what’s that got to do with anything? I’m not certain
where this is headed.”
Peg hit her thigh with her fist and said, “Rats! I’m beating around the
bush and making this into something it isn’t . . . in any event, it’s no big deal.
I’ll get on with it.”
Pulling her leg up again and rocking back allowed her summer dress,
already short, to fall back into her lap, showing off even more of her thighs.
Another inch or two, I thought, and I’d see her panties.
“Did you know that our parents – your grandparents – were occasional
nudists?”
“Yeah. Mom mentioned to me that when she was a kid she got to go to
some camp with them but I thought they didn’t do it very much later on.”
“Yes, that’s right . . . but when I asked – years later – if I could try it
out, they said, ‘Sure, go ahead. We think you’ll like it.’ And I did,” she
added in a rush.
“Did? Try the camp, you mean?”
“No. I didn’t go to the camp, but I did start sunbathing in the nude in
our backyard by the pool. It was a very private place.”
Still not getting it, I said, “So?”
“So, I never stopped. I still like to sunbathe in the nude. In fact, I like
to spend a lot of my time around the house with no clothes. Mary knows
about it . . . she always has . . . and when I asked her about you . . . whether
it would upset you . . . that’s when she told me you were mature. Are you?”
Cripes no, I thought to myself. “Uh, yeah . . . I’m okay with it . . . with
anything . . . but,” and here I trailed off, leaving unsaid the vision I had of
myself, crouched over, hiding a boner that I knew would jump out if I saw
any naked girls . . . particularly her.
“Billy, what’s the ‘but’ you left hanging out there? But what?”
She unhooked her legs and then re-hooked them the other way,
momentarily lifting and parting her legs . . . giving me a clear but brief flash
of bikini panties. Printed on my visual cortex was the flower print of the
panties as they disappeared under her butt.
Using her ploy, I countered, “Can I be frank with *you*?” I wasn’t at all
sure what I’d be frank about, but it served to turn off the heat for a moment.
Or so I thought.
With an impish grin, she challenged me: “It’s about sex, isn’t it? That’s
okay. I’m cool with it. You can talk with me,” she answered in four
separate bursts and then smiled at me as if to say, “Gotcha!”
“No! I mean, yes . . . well . . . kinda. I mean, I wanna be open, but I’ve
never talked about this stuff before.” I looked at her for a clue. She just
nodded and smiled again.
“You see, I don’t mind if you . . . ah . . . sunbathe without any clothes . .
. but I’m afraid that you . . . uh . . . you’d be upset with me . . . if . . . ,” I
stalled again.
“You’re afraid I’d be upset if you got an erection, huh? Is that it?”
“Well, sure . . . it’d happen, I know . . . and then I’d have to . . . well, you
know.”
“I hope it would happen! I’d be upset if you didn’t respond to me, Billy.”
Then, tilting her head, she paused and then softly asked, “And then you’d
have to what? Jack off?”
I could believe she said that! How’d she know? It may have been my
red face, or perhaps the furtive look in my eyes, looking for a way out . . . I
don’t know, but thank goodness, she didn’t leave me hanging. Reaching out,
as if to touch me sympathetically, she said, “Don’t worry about it. All guys
think that’s what’s going to happen, but it’ll go away, I promise.”
Still embarrassed, I retorted, “Yeah. A lot you know!”
“Billy, it’s okay with me. Really. It’s just okay if it does or if it doesn’t.
I understand.”
What was going on here? I couldn’t believe this line of conversation.
Here I was, talking about my woodie with my aunt, my mother’s look-alike,
as if were the most natural thing in the world. And all the time I’m
scrunching down, further and further . . . both to hide my boner as well as to
try to see under her dress. My mouth was dry and my heart was pounding
in my throat and I was never so horny in my life. And she was telling me it
was okay. Hah!
Peg suddenly dropped her foot to the floor and, sitting up, jammed her
skirt between her legs. “Anyway, it’s important for me that you know who I
am and that I am honest with you. We’re both human. Moreover, we’re
both adults and we know how to act properly, don’t we?”
Suddenly I could see the humor in it and I replied, “My head knows how
to be a proper adult, but my body doesn’t always listen. But if you’re okay
with that, then I’ll try to be too.”
With a tone of finality she said, “Good! I’m going to put a few things
away and then you promised me a sunny California afternoon on the deck if
I remember.”
“You change and I’ll uncover the hot tub. It’s already hot, so I’ll turn on
the Jacuzzi jets.”
Having something to do helped calm me a little. By the time I’d set up
the chairs and uncovered the hot tub, Peg stepped out on the deck wearing
a shortie terry-cloth robe. Her bare thighs flashed as she walked toward me.
She smiled and with erotic slowness, began to loosen her belt. As the belt
dropped, she held the front of the robe together for a moment before
turning away. She stepped into the tub and, in the same motion, dropped
the robe to the deck. For a brief two seconds, I saw her bare back, the
narrow waist and a surprising flare of her hips for such a slim girl. More as
an after image, I saw the cheeks of her ass as she slipped into the bubbling
water.
Submerged to her neck, she turned and appraised me. Unsmiling, she
looked me up and down. I felt good about my chest and shoulders; I’d
received those parts of me as my father’s genetic gift. But I felt my legs
were too skinny . . . another genetic inheritance. Still, all those
considerations faded at the thought of taking my clothes off right in front of
Peg. You see, what was really bothering me was my dick . . . or how I felt
about my dick. I thought it was either too small – when it was soft – or
shamefully too-erect when hard. I just couldn’t win.
Sweeping her arm through the water in a welcoming gesture, Peg said,
“C’mon Billy. Join me. Please. I don’t want to soak all alone . . . and you
promised.” The last bit was said with a petulant, little-girl tone.
“Okay, okay, okay. Just a minute, will ya?”
Turning my back, I slipped out of my jeans and undershorts as I thought,
“Shit! Why didn’t I take my shirt off first . . . now she’ll be looking at my
bare ass!”
In a sing-song, little-girl voice, Peg chanted, “I see Billy’s bu-ut, I see
Billy’s bu-ut.”
Once again, she broke the tension of my embarrassment and I laughed at
myself. Stripping off my shirt, I swung around and stepped into the tub,
watching Peg watch me. Sure enough, her eyes were focused on my
hard-on as I sat in the stream of bubbles from the Jacuzzi. Then she looked
into my eyes and said, “Nice!”
I decided to take the offense and said, “Speaking of nice butts . . .”
Her smile was dazzling as she responded, “Well, thank you, kind sir.”
“Tell me, Peg . . . what is it? I mean, what is it about being naked that
you like? Do you like to show your body to people . . . to a guy? Or is it
that you like to look at other people?”
The water was a little too hot for me, so I sat on a higher step, partially
out of the water. Glancing down, I could see through the swirling bubbles.
My cock appeared and disappeared, often looking distorted.
“It is a little too hot, isn’t it?” Peg agreed and slid up to the same step
across from me. The water and bubbles ran off her breasts and I could see
her entire front. She had no tan lines around her full breasts and her nipples
were erect and dark. As they had at the airport, they swayed slightly as she
ran her hand over the water. My proper upbringing wanted me to look
away, politely . . . while my libido had quite another agenda. Score one for
the libido. I stared.
She continued, “Both actually. I mean, I like to look at other people and
I get a real thrill when I know someone’s looking at me . . . at my tits for
instance . . . like you’re looking. Like ’em?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods? Like ’em? That’s not nearly strong
enough.”
“Oh goodie! I’m so glad we can be buddies and we can share our inside
stuff with each other. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to have sex or
anything, but I really like that you like me, that you . . . uh . . . like my tits.”
“Peg, I can talk with Mom about anything . . . or *almost* anything.
But I’ve never had a girl that would be open with me about . . . well, about
sexual things. If I sound awkward, it’s because I am.”
“Bob, we’re going to be together all summer. Let’s agree that we can
talk with each other about anything . . . about everything . . . okay? No
judgement?”
“Well, if you’re not put off by my . . . my erection . . . then I’d just love
to talk with you about . . . girls’ bodies and about . . . sex. I must have
about a million questions.”
“Yeah-yeah-yeah . . . me too. I mean, I was able to talk with my
ex-husband about a lot of things, but there were some things that he got
embarrassed about . . . and that made me embarrassed. Know what I
mean?”
“It works the other way for me, too. What I mean is . . . because you’re
not embarrassed by me or our conversation, then I’m not. Like that?”
“Sure. Just like that. For instance, I always wanted to examine Paul’s
dick. Oh, he’d let me look at it a little, I guess, but I think he always was a
little put off and that spoiled it for me. Even more, I wanted to show him
my . . . what shall I call it . . . my pussy? Yeah, my pussy! I wanted to
show it to him but he really didn’t want to look at it. I could tell.” She
paused and then added a little sadly, “I think he thought it was ugly.”
“What a jerk!” That was about the gravest putdown I could think of. “I
love pussies,” I declared, with a fervor usually reserved for the ‘niners.
“When I was a lot younger, there was a girl next door and she let me . . .” I
caught myself. With eyes wide, I put the pulp of my fingers across my lips
and said, “Oops. Don’t mean to tell tales out of school.”
Laughing, Peg said, “Yeah. Me too. Only the guy next door was
younger than me! Like you.”
In some silent synchronicity, we sat looking at each other. The swishing
hum of the Jacuzzi was the only sound. I reached over and punched the Off
button and watched the bubbles disappear, revealing Peg’s belly and the
juncture of her thighs. Through the clearing water, I could see her pubic
hair, light brown in color and trimmed to a broad vertical swatch. I couldn’t
see the lips of her sex . . . just her mons. Again, I could feel my heart beat
and my dick started to hurt it was so hard.
Peg whispered, “Billy, wanna see?”
Looking up into her eyes, not certain what she was asking, I nodded
dumbly.
She stood up and the water drained off her belly and thighs. She opened
her stance and I could see the water running off her pubic hair and pussy
lips. It was like she was peeing in the water. Her lips were bare! She’d
shaved the hair from her lips. They looked like the little girl’s next door had
looked.
Now it was my turn. “Nice!” I observed, looking directly between her
legs.
In a breathy voice she replied, “Thanks,” as she sat on the edge of the
tub. She lifted one foot to the edge of the tub and rested her cheek on her
knee as she swung the other knee away, completely opening her sex to my
stare. The lips of her pussy opened as her legs spread and for the first time
in my life I could see the mysterious coral tissue of a pussy. The outer lips
were tanned and clean shaven. The inner lips were more delicate and pink,
connected in a hood at the top of her slit. Her clit was barely seen at first,
but when she reached down and pulled her lips up and open with the
inverted-V of the second and third fingers of her right hand, her clit
suddenly looked larger and very pink.
“This is my pussy, Billy. Have you ever seen one . . . I mean on a
grown-up woman?”
“No. Well, yes . . . but only in pictures. God! You’re beautiful!”
Unthinking, I began stroking my dick as I stared at her, entranced.
Peg bent over, looking between her own splayed legs and with the
forefinger of her left hand, she traced a touch from between the cheeks of
her butt up to the exposed clit. Touching the nubbin of her clitoris, she
shuddered and softly moaned. “I think a girl’s pussy – or do you call it a
cunt? – anyway, I think that a girl’s pussy is so intimate. You know . . . you
can see *into* a girl . . . there’s something about seeing into someone that is
so private. And it is that intimacy that just thrills me. Know what I mean?”
She’d buried the tip of one finger in her cunt, up to the middle knuckle,
and was slowly stirring. She continued, “It’d be like you bending over and
showing me your ass hole, Billy . . . or more like you opening up your ass
hole and showing me the pink inside.”
She shuddered again and said, “Oooh, that makes me shiver!”
By this time I was standing close to her, a little bent, looking at her
finger move through the slit of her bare pussy as I was fisting my cock . . .
masturbating without even knowing it. Without knowing it that is, until I
was suddenly on the brink of cuming . . . then I knew it!
I couldn’t move . . . and I couldn’t stop. I was going to shoot and I just
couldn’t stop. Looking up into her eyes I grunted, “Gotta cum . . . gonna
cum!”
“Yes! On me. Cum on me, Billy. Me too. Right on my pussy. Right
on my cunt. On my asshole . . . oh, cum, cum, cum for me, please . . .
PLEASE!” I could hear her voice as it ran on, almost guttural and I could
hear the slapping sounds of my right hand on my cock. I could see her
hands . . . the left finger fucking herself deeply and the right thumb
strumming her clit. Her words ran together and became a crescendo scream
as I shot ropy bursts of white, thick cum over her hands and pubic hair and
the lips of her open pussy. My orgasm was so intense, it almost hurt in its
pleasure. My legs were weak and my head was dizzy. I couldn’t stand any
more and fell back into the tub.
My next awareness was Peg’s voice saying, “Oh, Billy. That was
wonderful. That was so hot. You can’t know how much I needed that.
Thank you, thank you . . . oh yes, thank you!”
Lifting her hand, she looked at her fingers and then licked the puddles of
cum off her wrist and the back of her hand as she looked into my eyes. “I
love the taste of cum!”
A jolt of searing fear went through me. Peg and my mother were such
close friends, Peg would tell Mom and then . . . God, I’d be in deep shit. I
asked, “You gonna tell mom about this? Oh, please don’t tell her. What’ll
she think?”
With a nasty little laugh, Peg said, “Billy, your mom knows more about
you than you think. She *knew* we were going to do this . . . she’d already
given me the okay. Said it’d be good for you. Your mom’s a hot lady, don’t
you know?”

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