Ian M. Stuart

Home-Made Loving

CHAPTER ONE

Mara Fletcher woke to the song of birds outside her window. She stretched, feeling the goodness of a full night's sleep blessing her body. The sheet spilled down, exposing her large, full breasts, with the thimble-sized nipples, erect fleshy strawberries in the morning air wafting through the cabin's open window. She recalled where she was and, rising, looked out. All around, the lake washed at the island sand just a few feet from her bedroom. As far as she could see there were forests, sky, and water.

Her island! Sitting in the very center of a large lake. Secluded and nearly inaccessible. She smiled. Her man had been no dummy. Then she frowned. But he had up and left her. Dead. Killed in some sweaty, steaming jungle swamp. One more time, she had heard him say. One more time, and then we can live on easy street. One more war. That was what it had been, one more. His last. She heard the sound of running water down the hall and knew Tim, her son, was up and around. She threw the sheet back and, going to the door, opened it and went into the hallway, her plump butt-cheeks tic-tocing. Tim was in the bathroom with the door slightly ajar. She thought to call to him and then realized the water running into the basin would drown out her voice. She stepped to the door so he might hear her. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Then blood rushed to her face and she felt her loins moisten. Her son was jerking off and using the sound of water to mask his lewd movements and groans of pleasure.

He stood before the basin, his shorts down about his ankles, his legs spread. His fist was clasped about his cock, pumping it up and down, making little liquid, fleshy sounds as he reached the apex of the stroke and started down again. As his fist reached the hairy base of his prick, the large purple knob of his cock strutted and swelled, and she noticed a thin stream of clear liquid oozing from the little slit in the point of the knob. She drew a silent, shuddering breath.

Should she make a sound and let him know his activity was discovered?

Should she walk away and be silent, later to caution him about too much handwork? Her breasts swelled and the large nipples jutted until they stuck out an inch from the dark pink whorls of her slightly pebbly areolae. They hardened and trembled from the excitement of watching her teen-aged son extract pleasure from the movement of his fist up and down a very well-developed penis shaft. So many things ran through her mind fleetingly. Mike, her husband, was well endowed, with seven thick inches, huge hen-egg balls, and a staying power which had been her delight and pleasure. She had learned to lead him and stay with him, so that their climaxes happened together, a glorious coming in accord. But as she watched her son, rising now and then on his toes as the moment of his extreme explosion neared, she saw his balls were every bit as large, full and heavy, speaking of quarts of hot, spurting come to be showered into some waiting, quaking eager cunt. And his prick must be nearly as long- no, she saw it clearly for a moment. It must be longer, and the head was thicker and broader. What a cock her young son had on him. Her mouth moistened and she licked her lips as though she could taste it. She felt weak and leaned back against the hallway wall momentarily. Her cunt quivered and she felt moisture running down her thighs. God, she was hot! She hadn't had a hot, hard cock ramming up into her liquid depths for over a year now, and she was beginning to feel she would run out into the street and grab the first man she met and rape him! Unconsciously she widened her stance and one of her hands reached into her labia and began to caress the little stiff clit there, strumming it, feeling it quiver in its intense passion. She rubbed it gently and twirled it between forefinger and thumb as she watched her son jack off. He was steaming now, his hand flashing up and down his cock-shaft, making the popping liquid sounds as his juices gathered and dripped off the end of his cock into the basin of water. Then, over the sound of the water, she heard him groan. She moaned softly, her fingers digging deep into her mound. He reared up on his toes and gasped, his head thrown back. He trembled and gasped again and then, his prick held tightly in his fist, mashed deeply into the pubic whorl of his bush, he shook and came! A hot white glob of semen spurted high and onto the glass of the shaving mirror. Another! And yet another, and then the spurts diminished and became a flow. It came and came until she could hardly believe what she was seeing. He must have come a cupful of semen into the basin. He sighed and relaxed, looking tired and drained. She rose on her toes and gasped, her fingers flashing in and out of her anxious, hot cunt, and came three times, one right after the other. Before he could turn and see her, she whirled and ran on tiptoes back to her room, closing the door silently behind her. She leaned back upon it, and delved into her cunt again, draining out of the moment the last twitches of the delightful sensation of coming. There were a few more sweet, soft quivers and then it was over. She staggered to the bed and fell upon it and into a light doze. She never knew when Tim came to the door and opened it and looked in. As he looked at his nude, uncovered mother, he saw the sprawled legs, and had a close look at the pink, dewy slit out of which he had emerged. He was still nude, not meaning to have stepped entirely into the room, but seeing her asleep, he had come in.

Now, as he gazed upon her sleeping body, he noted the full tits, the nipples rosy from recent rubbing and half-erect yet, no doubt from slowly receding erotic thoughts and feelings, the dewy slit which was gaping slightly as she moaned softly and turned, moving one leg aside, opening more to his gaze. Tim had fucked a few of his girlfriends. But it was mostly on and off in a moment, with him jerking out and coming on their bellies if they weren't on the pill.

He had never yet used a rubber. One of them liked to suck him off and he loved that. Now, as he looked upon his mother's cunt, he realized it was the first grown woman's cunt he had ever seen. The bush was heavy and dark as her hair, running in an upside-down triangle to the point just below her indented navel and finishing between her plump thighs to surround and crown her pink-lipped cunt. As he looked, he began to harden. The recent jerking-off was not enough to stay his passion, and his cock hanging between his legs over his big balls lengthened, thickened, and rose, moving like an animal stirring from its sleep. He breathed deeply and stood looking and thinking how it would be to ram the long shaft of his hot cock into the wet, slick depth of that delicious cunt, and as he thought of that his cock went to half-stand and swung sideways, quivering and uncovering the purple knob slowly as the weight and lengthening forced it beyond the short prepuce. Reaching down, he took his cock in hand and slowly moved the foreskin back and forth over the swelling knob, and his cock hardened and stood at full stance, complete at eight-and-a-half inches, and thick enough that most of his girls were unable to make their fingers meet about it when they jerked him off. Slowly, toying with hot, sexual thoughts, creating visions of himself fucking her in the cunt, between those beautiful tits, and finally in the ass, his hand moved up and down the shaft. He spraddled slightly so his balls could swing freely, and then began to jack off in earnest.

She stirred on the bed and rolled onto her back, sprawling her legs and raising one thigh invitingly. He watched her tits rising and falling in her sleep and felt his loins beginning to pause, gather, and to poise, roiling at the point of exploding again. His hand was beating slowly but steadily, his cock growing harder and thicker at the same time. Her cunt was leaking clear fluid, her juices flowing as she dreamed of some sexual activity. One of her hands ran slowly down her body and came to rest at her clit, and delicately her forefinger and thumb began to rotate the little bud. He watched it grow and then harden under her fingertips caressing it, and then she began to hunch, gasping a little in her light slumber as she reached toward a small, sweet, dream-induced climax. He was about to come. Looking down he saw her panties and, seizing them, he wrapped them about his huge cock and began to beat again, the purple knob streaming clear sticky liquid out of the little slit on the point. He gasped and began to hunch into his fist. Then he came! He threw back his head, almost agonizing in the pleasure of it. Through slitted eyes he watched his mother's cunt quaking as she came again and again in her dream. She pulled up her legs and held them wide apart, as her hand reached deeply into her cunt and began to move in and out of the juicy hole. His sperm gouted out of his cock into the panties, filling them with the steaming semen. Finally it ceased flowing and he relaxed. Wiping himself and milking down to get all of the cum out of his cock, he tossed the panties to the floor where he had found them and then backed slowly and carefully out of the room. Mara raised up and looked at the door when she heard the latch dick. She hadn't been sleeping at all, but had heard the weak board in the floor beside the door creak as he entered the room, awaking her from her light doze. She had wondered what he would do and decided to fake sleep.

Through slitted eyes, the gleam of her eyes masked by her long lashes, she had thrilled again at the sight of his slowly gathering and growing hard-on, even though he had just finished jerking off. She had seen him cum all over the shaving mirror. Her heart had beat fast and hard as she watched it thicken and lengthen until she was now sure that her son had a thicker and longer cock than his father had ever had. It was white, with blue veins running underneath the skin; the knob was heart-shaped and huge, nearly big enough to fill a teacup. As his cock hardened and lengthened, the prepuce slowly slid back the shaft, unfolding down over the rim of his cockhead, until the entire knob was free and clear. As she watched him jerking off, his fist moving faster and faster, making his balls bounce against his nearly hairless thighs, she nearly gave her awakened state away by sprawling and opening her arms to him, taking him to her and fucking him until that hot sticky cum spurted deep inside her yearning cunt. But she had continued to fake sleep and had merely opened her legs wider so he could get a good look at her pink-lipped, juice-emitting cunt.

She had gasped lightly as he did, as he raised upon his tiptoes and wrapped her panties about his swollen rod and then groaned as his semen spurted again and again into the nylon cloth. She nearly fainted as she came lightly, three times, one right after the other, merely from watching him and delving upon her innermost feelings. Once the head of his cock jerked free from the cloth and a slug of his cum missed the panties and leaped across the space, landing upon her thigh. He never noticed, and when he was gone she slowly and carefully wiped it upon her fingers and then into her mouth, tasting it tenderly, savoring the sea-salt taste, the aftermath of passion-aroused maleness. When he had gone long enough, she rose and dressed, used the bathroom, pissing a hard, amber stream, making it splash and resound in the bowl. She knew he could hear her, for his room was through the wall, and she could often hear him moving around in his room while she was brushing her teeth, sitting on the stool, or dressing. Then she went to the kitchen and soon had a plate of eggs and bacon waiting for him and called him to breakfast. “Hi, Mom.” He came into the breakfast nook and seated himself at the table.