Kathy Andrews Collection, page 635
“Just right,” Laurie said.
“But only if I can chaperon this orgy shit,” Janet said. “There won’t be any fucking and cocksucking going on in this house unless it’s chaperoned. After all, teenagers can get into all sorts of fucking messes if there isn’t someone around to watch them.”
“Why, you hotassed cocksucker!” Jack said. “You’re going to get fucked in that round ass just for that!”
Janet turned her creamy ass to him, shoving it out tantalizingly. “What are you waiting for?”
As Jack plunged his cock into Janet’s asshole, Ray moved to her daughter.
THE END
LB-1392 CAMPING WITH MOM
CHAPTER ONE
Liz Jefferies tucked her hands beneath the bottom of the faded blue sweatshirt she wore. She pulled upward, easing it over her head and arms, then tossing it atop the granite boulder beside her. She smiled, feeling a rush of excitement.
Hooking her arms behind her back, her fingers found the clasp to her white bra and freed it. The confining halter slipped forward, the heavy mounds of her breasts spilling out and doing a lively little jostling dance.
Her hands slid under the twin, pillow-like tits, massaging away the redness left by the bra. She wasn’t used to wearing the bra and it felt so damn good to be free of the thing — if only for a few moments. She had slipped away from the others for an evening swim.
She glanced to her chest, her smile widening. They were still attractive breasts, firm and rounded with just a bit of a pendulous swing to them. Not at all the breasts one would expect on a woman who had nursed two children. But then, Liz Jefferies’ body wasn’t that of a woman in her early forties. She had seen to that. She was proud of her body and had taken care of it during the twenty-two years of marriage and twenty years of motherhood. She appeared no more than thirty, no longer a girl, but a mature, attractive woman. But what was better — she felt like a woman of thirty.
With a toss of her head, she sent a cascade of fiery red hair, still untouched by cosmetic aids, back over her slightly-freckled shoulders. Releasing the weighty globes of her breasts, she reached down and popped the snap to her jeans, then dragged the zipper down its metallic track.
Sucking in a deep lungful of the crisp mountain air, she slipped her fingers under the tops of her jeans and the elastic band of her panties. She wiggled her hips a bit and shimmied free of her clothing. Completely naked, she stood alone beside the edge of a mountain pool deep within the forests of the Northwest. It was exhilarating. Her whole body felt alive.
She grinned, suddenly wishing her husband Jason were with her. She felt sexy and what better place to make love than here amid the fertile wildness of the forest. Next time she discovered such a secluded pool, she would see that Jason was with her — or perhaps they could slip off tonight when the others were asleep, and revisit this one.
Below her, reflected in the water, another grinning woman stared up to her. For a moment or two, Liz stood there, admiring the supple sleekness of her nakedness. The flatness of her stomach, the long shapely contours of her legs, the womanly knoll of her shaven pubis — all reasons why after their years of marriage, she and Jason were still lovers.
Stretching out a toe, she tested the water, shattering the mirror-like image in a series of ripples. The water was cool, but not cold. Without hesitating, she stepped into the pool, immersing her bare body in its soothing waters.
Despite her earlier protests, she was glad she had given in to her husband and agreed to this wilderness trek. Even with the long hours of hiking each day, she was enjoying every minute of their summer vacation.
She kicked out toward the center of the pool and rolled over to float on her back. However, she did wish it were just Jason and her and their children, and not Mona and her family along on this mountain trip.
Children! She shook her head and laughed aloud. Bret was twenty, a junior in college, and Linda was eighteen, ready to begin her own college education this fall. Neither could be described as children any more. She had to be careful about calling them that. She remembered how much it had irritated her when her own mother had done it.
Still, she wished Mona and her family weren’t here. Not that she minded Mona or her son Phil or even her stepdaughter Karen. There was something about all three of them that made them the type of people one enjoyed being around. Frank, Mona’s husband, was a different story.
Liz wasn’t sure exactly what it was about Frank that put her off, but the man made her feel uncomfortable. He was so straight, so uptight. Mr. Middle Class Conservative, that was Frank, she decided. If there were any member of their group that put a damper on things, it was Frank. It was as though he was afraid to let himself go, afraid to enjoy their vacation. Why Mona had ever selected him to fill the vacancy left by Tom’s death in Vietnam, Liz would never understand. Perhaps Mona needed the security; Frank was a hard worker and a good provider.
But he wasn’t Tom, not by a long shot. Tom was Liz’s one regret in her life. She and Jason had shared an open marriage for more than half their life together. Yet, she had never been able to approach Tom. It had been a mistake, she knew that now. She and Tom had been close — yes, loved each other. Neither had ever been able to admit that then — the times were different, people afraid to display their feelings for one another. And then, Tom had been Jason’s sister’s husband. No matter what the reasons, it was too late now — it was a loss that could never be filled.
Liz’s thoughts returned to Frank. He was attractive enough for a sexual partner, but he would probably freak out if he ever learned about Jason’s and her marriage. Knowing Frank, he would probably refuse to let Mona and the children see them ever again. That had to be avoided. Jason and his younger sister had always been close. Closer than most siblings in that Jason had raised Mona after their parents’ death in an auto accident.
Still, it would be amusing to watch Frank’s stone face shatter in moral horror if she should walk up and proposition him for a little extra-marital hanky-panky. She laughed again, rolling over to swim the length of the mountain pool.
Phil Stivers’ groin was afire, aching with need. The eighteen-year-old youth had wandered away from the rest of the group for a bit of privacy. He had seen his Aunt Liz slip away from the camp and followed her, hoping to talk with the woman. The two of them had always gotten along well — and she was cool, both she and Uncle Jason were in with the times, without having to try to act young.
All he had wanted to do was talk. He never expected this!
His dark, young eyes devoured the supple nakedness of his aunt. He had never really seen her as a woman before, but now it would be impossible to see her as anything else. Aunt Liz was beautiful!
He glared at the big balls of her tits. He wished his hands were massaging those luscious looking mounds rather than hers. And the pinkness of her pink nipples, standing stiff and hard in the coolness of the evening — his lips and tongue hungered to possess those tempting morsels of flesh.
His cock stiffened, straining against the tightness of his jeans. Aunt Liz turned a bit, glancing over her shoulder as if checking to see if she were alone. His eyes drifted over the sleek smoothness of her stomach, homing in on the most private part of her body.
She shaved!
Aunt Liz shaved her pussy!
He had read about women doing that, and he had seen pictures in magazines of women with shaven cunts. But he had never seen one — not for real — not in the flesh. His balls did all sorts of wild flip-flops.
Phil stifled a moan of disappointment when his aunt turned back to the pool, denying him a further view of her sex. His hand reached down and squeezed the swollen length of his prick. His eyes caressed the oval-shaped cheeks of her ass, as she bent over and tested the water. It was the ass of a woman, full and rounded.
He sucked in his breath. Aunt Liz was a woman, all woman, not one of the million girls who filled the world around him. There was nothing girlish about her. Her body was so damn beautiful; it sent throbbing aches of desire through his young body, just standing there behind the trunk of an old oak, watching her. He had had girls before — Mary Jane in the back seat of their family car — Sally, that night of the senior prom out behind the country club. But Phil Stivers had never had a woman.
Aunt Liz walked out into the pool, the water climbing up the taut length of her legs. She did a little spring and pushed out to the center of the pond. When she rolled onto her back, the alluring forms of her tits stood atop her chest, wet and shining, like shimmering domes. At their crests, her nipples still stood, stiffly pointing to the sky.
Just to be able to touch her. To feel his fingers move over the pinkness of her body. That would be enough — even if the touch was no more than a fleeting second or two.
It was then Phil decided to strip and join his skinny-dipping aunt.
He peeled away his clothes and slipped into the pool before Liz noticed his presence.
“Phil!” She looked surprised to see him, but not shocked. “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer, but swam out to join her.
“Phil?” she said again, uncertainty in her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“You,” he said, coming beside her. “I saw you from up there.” He pointed to a stand of oaks above the pool. “I wanted you.”
Those last three words slipped over his tongue before he realized what he was saying. He hadn’t meant to be that brash. He didn’t want to frighten her off, to scare her into leaving.
But if Liz was frightened, she didn’t show it. Her eyes, green and sparkling like emeralds, widened a bit; then she smiled. It was a gentle smile, a smile of understanding.
“Phil…”
“You’re beautiful,” he blurted out, confidence growing within him. “I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful!”
He moved closer, the nakedness of his young body brushing against her bare skin. Liz fought to suppress a thrilling tremble that rose within her. He was so young, so virile. The thought of taking him as a lover was exciting. The boy had inherited Tom’s looks and physique. It would be a lie to deny she found him attractive.
But she was his aunt.
“Phil…” she fumbled for her words. She did not want to hurt him. “Phil, thank you, that was a nice compliment. But, Phil, I’m your aunt. And I’m so much…”
“Older than me?” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. You’re still beautiful.”
She smiled again, fighting against the natural urges of her own body. It would be easy if I didn’t feel so sexy, she thought. Her feet found the bottom of the pool and she began to walk to the bank and her clothes.
“Please don’t leave,” Phil said behind her. He reached out and took her hand.
“Phil, do you realize…” She turned back to him. It was a mistake. The water was below her chest. Her breasts, glistening with moisture, were exposed to his eyes.
Before she could finish her sentence, her nephew’s hand rose and lightly touched one of the bulging mounds. A shudder of desire raced through her body. Without thinking she moaned softly.
He smiled, stepping closer. His hand tightened its hold on her vulnerably bare tit.
“You feel good.” His voice was deep and husky with want. “So smooth and soft.”
She knew she should turn and leave. But she didn’t. Instead she moaned again when his fingertips found the plump, stiff form of her nipple. He toyed with it, drawing circles around the pink halo of flesh surrounding it.
He pressed closer. The thickened crown of his prick touched a bare thigh. He didn’t move, but stood there, his aroused cock throbbing against her leg. She shivered, not in fear or repulsion — but in desire.
“Phil,” she began again. But the sudden squeezing of his caressing hand cut off whatever words she intended to speak. His exploring fingers dug firmly into the ball of her breast, kneading the pliant flesh.
“Kiss me,” he whispered, inching closer to her. “Kiss me, Aunt Liz.”
With increased vigor, his hand worked her heavy mound of titflesh. Summery waves of sexual heat coursed through her on a direct line to the pulsing channel of her sex. She did as he said. She leaned forward and kissed her nephew.
Their lips met, pressing against one another. Then his mouth opened and his tongue flicked out, taunting her to open her mouth to him. She did, accepting the deep thrust of the youth’s tongue.
He was pressed firmly against her now, as though he realized she would offer no more protests. His hand released hers, then drifted downward to skim a thigh and ease between her legs. Almost on their own accord, her thighs opened to him, allowing his hand to cup the shaven rise of her pubis. She moaned around his mouthful of tongue, as his hand clamped firmly over the bulge of her cunt.
She forgot all thoughts of trying to prevent him from exploring her body. Instead, her arms encircled his waist, tensing at the boulder-hard contours of his young buttocks, her own tongue eventually snaking into his mouth to probe and taunt.
An inquisitive finger slid between the cleft of her loins, finding the open and willing tunnel of her cunt. Upward his digit moved, invading her body. She moaned again under the wanton rise of passion filling her.
His finger twisted and stroked a moment, then was joined by another of his taunting fingers. Standing there, waist deep in the water, she took his two fingers, groaning with mounting desire.
“You want it, don’t you?” He smiled when they parted. “You want it as much as I do.”
His fingers drove all the way to their third knuckles, as if to emphasize his words. She nodded, unable to speak as she gasped with his forceful invasion. He pumped into her, finger fucking her pussy with decided relish.
“But not here,” she managed to say.
Suddenly, he pulled from her cunt, his other hand releasing the hold on her tit. “There, by those trees.”
Taking her hand once again, he led her from the water. The place he selected was a small grassy clearing hidden behind a low hedge-like growth of bushes — secluded and just right for two bodies.
Without speaking, she lowered herself to the grass, laying on her back, thighs open to him. Her nephew stood above her for a moment obviously enjoying the unashamed nakedness of her body. At the same time, her eyes roved over him, homing in on the turgid pole of cock jutting from his groin. She had been wrong in thinking of him as a boy earlier — Phil was every inch a man.
Raising her arms, she beckoned to him. He answered with a pleased smile and came to her, sliding atop the luxury of her supine body. His hands covered her bulging tits and his mouth met hers.
Simultaneously, she reached down, wedging a hand between their cores. She found the stalk of his sex and squeezed. He did a little aroused twitch atop her and moaned.
Her fingers caressed the swollen firmness of his youthful length, reveling in its virile feel, its urgent throbs. It felt so long and hard — so ready to enter the aching slit of her sex.
Expertly, she guided him to the slightly-pouting lips of her labia, nestling his cockhead within those thick lips. With an excited tremor of desire, his hips bucked forward. In one thrust, he skewered into her, burying himself within the moist harbor of her pussy.
She felt every bit as good as he had imagined. Hot and tight, his aunt’s cunt stretched around the swollen length of his cock. Her pelvis undulated beneath him, washing the clingy folds of her pussy around him, bathing his bone-hard rod in the luxury of her body.
He wanted to just lay, feeling her beneath him, soaking in the liquid warmth of her womanly core, but his body was fired with lust. His hips inched upward. His prick slithered from the molten deeps of her cunt. Then he slammed back, drilling to the hilt. The woman under him, his aunt, groaned with pleasure beneath the fleshy impact.
“Yes,” she whispered when his pelvis rose once again. “Yes, that’s it. Fuck me!”
His balls jumped. Fuck me! She had asked him to fuck her. It was the sexiest thing he had ever heard. Cool Aunt Liz had asked him to ball her. He had never imagined her using that word, let alone begging him to do it.
His hands squeezed into the pliable domes of her breasts, as though using them for handles. His hips plunged down. His cock, jerking with excitement, rammed into the welcoming gash of her shaven pussy.
She groaned. He felt so damn good. Swollen and long, his young prick tunneled deeply into the mouth of her belly. He filled her, packed her to the brim. Thrills of lustful want blasted through her wanton body. If it wasn’t enough that this her latest lover was so young, there was the wicked taste of forbidden fruit in their union. This was not just some youthful sexual partner — this was her nephew.
As tight as possible, she squeezed down on his shafting length. She made the channel of her cunt a fleshy vise, igniting a pleasurable friction over each inch of his prick. His groans rose to mingle with hers.
Deep and hard, he drove into her. She had men who knew more about how to please a woman, but very few could match his vigor. In and out he poled, plummeting and probing the hot socket of her cunt. He was like a rutting stag and she was the vessel of his lust. She accepted and welcomed each forceful lunge of his penetrating cock. She worked her own pelvis, accommodating his wants and needs, giving herself completely to him.
Harder and harder, he pumped into her aching pussy. She felt the juices of arousal flowing within her, lubricating the fleshy piston that reamed her so marvelously. Up and down her hips hunched, matching each of his ravaging strokes.
Their bodies slapped together, just wet from the water and moistened by their own sweat. They worked together, each trying to satisfy, yet take as much as possible from the other.
Her thighs pulsed with a glowing heat. She groaned in disbelief. Already her body raced toward its release of lust and desire. With reckless abandon she threw her pelvis upward, deepening the angle of his penetration. Hotter and hotter the fires of need burned within the core of her body.
