Kathy's heart thumped with wild excitement as she found herself alone in the big, sprawling house, and she found herself pretending that the house was hers. For some reason she got the urge to rip off all her clothes and run around the house naked, to scamper naked up the stairs and slide down the smooth, polished banister like a young girl. It was the same urge she used to get as a teenager when some young stud would take her out of town to some secluded wooded spot to fuck her. She would tear off all her clothes and make him chase her until it tackled her, felled her, and rammed her between the legs. Those had been the days! Unfortunately, those days had ended the day she and Otto Finn had started going steady. Since that day she hadn't been fucked by any cock but his – if what Otto did could even be called fucking!
As much as she felt like taking off all her clothes, Kathy didn't dare do so. What if Lois Chapman had forgot something and returned home to discover her new housekeeper running around the house naked? What if the man of the house, Fred Chapman, came home? Or Randy? She'd be fired before she even got started. She compromised her desire by kicking off her shoes and doing the dishes barefoot. Going barefoot was a liberating feeling, one that gave her a tingle between the cuntlips in the same way that going naked did.
When she finished the dishes, Kathy decided to explore the house, to see what kind of job she'd got herself into – also because she was nosey, and dying to see what kind of private life the richest family in the neighborhood lived. She knew she could learn a lot about a family's private life by snooping around its home.
To her relief, the downstairs, including the master bedroom, hardly needed cleaning. Even the bed was made. A little dusting, a little vacuuming, a little polishing each day and she'd be done with the downstairs, earning a very generous salary for only minimal work. She'd have to do laundry a few days each week, but she could handle that.
The upstairs included a game room, a library, the upstairs bathroom, two guest bedrooms, and Randy's bedroom. All the rooms except the bathroom and Randy's bedroom were clean. The bathroom and Randy's bedroom were pig pens, literally pig sties. Kathy couldn't believe these two rooms exited in a house so otherwise perfect. They looked like battlegrounds, and they smelled of unwashed teenage male. Lois Chapman's wasn't lying when she said that her career was everything to her. It was apparent that she'd neglected totally the discipline of her only son. She wondered whether Lois Chapman had peeked into Randy's room anytime recent, like within the last five years.
Kathy tiptoed into the boy's bedroom carefully, not knowing what she might step on or trip over among the clutter. She was tempted to hold her nose at first, but in seconds she was used to the sweaty male scent, which reminded her of some of the boys who'd fucked her in high school. Her heart thumped, each pulsation sending tingles through her cunt. She was turned on by being in the boy's bedroom, and she found herself being turned on more and more by the teen.
Randy was a handsome boy, Kathy had to admit. She'd first noticed him years ago as he'd skate boarded past her house in nothing by a pair of scanty cutoffs and his head of blond hair bouncing and waving in the breeze. Even as a young boy he'd had a kind of animal sensuality that had turned Kathy on despite her self. As she'd watched Randy Chapman grow up, as she'd watched his muscles grow and his height increase, she'd found herself wanting to see him naked. At times she'd had sexual daydreams about him, daydreams she'd forced out of her mind. He was, after all, a teenage boy, and she was, after all, a married woman.
Kathy caught her toe in some clothing and looked down to see the pouch of Randy Chapman's jockstrap draped over her foot. She raised her foot and plucked the jockstrap off her toe. Her hands trembled. She lifted the jock to her nose and sniffed it. The scent of unwashed teenage balls nearly knocked her over. Her cunt contracted hard. She dropped the jockstrap as if it were poison.
What am I doing! she thought, and looked behind herself to see if anybody was watching. Nobody. She'd expected to see Lois Chapman standing there, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. She saw nobody. The house was dead silent.
She went to the bed, lifted away the top sheet. The sheet underneath was covered with yellow stains. The scent of dried cum and stale sweat hit Kathy like a hot wind.
"My God!" she whispered, unable to believe what she was seeing.
Apparently, the sheet hadn't been washed in months. Apparently, it was the boy's job to take care of his bedroom and bathroom, and it was obvious he did neither. Now she was sure Lois Chapman hadn't looked into her son's bedroom in recent years. The sheet was soiled with dozens, maybe hundreds of dried cum stains.
Kathy didn't know what to do. She didn't know if she dared change the boy's bed and clean up his room. It would be like performing a major overhaul, and she feared the boy might not like it. She spotted the edge of a magazine sticking out from under the mattress and pulled it out. Her eyes nearly popped nut. She'd heard about porn magazines, but she'd never seen one.
On the cover a naked woman with wide-spread legs was being crotch-licked by a man. Inside the magazine, women sucked men's cocks, women fucked men's cocks, women smiled as cum splashed in their faces.
"I don't believe it!" Kathy muttered, pouring through the magazine. She reached down, groped under her skirt, and squeezed her cunt through her panties. The crotch of her panties was sopping wet.
She found other porn magazines under the mattress, a few dozen of them. Some of the things the magazines depicted Kathy had only heard whispered about. She couldn't believe that Randy Chapman, son of the richest parents in the neighborhood, looked at such filth. She couldn't believe that he could possibly have soiled his bedsheet with so many loads of cum. The sheet was actually stiff with dried cum, as if it had been starched. The boy had to be a sex maniac.
Kathy spotted a school picture of the boy among the clutter on his dresser. She picked it up, gazing into the seductive blue eyes under the blond bangs. The boy was a knockout, as she'd used to say about the boys in her high school. The boy turned her on. She wanted him. God did she want him!
She found herself pulling off her clothing – her dress, her bra, her panties. Her tits had swollen hugely, her cherries large, purplish, and bumpy, her nipples like hard fingertips. Pussyjuice dribbled from between her furry, swollen cuntlips and trickled down the insides of her thighs. She fell on her back an Randy's bed, rolling in the smell of him, his picture in one hand, her other hand jabbing between her legs.
"Oh, Randy, fuck me!" she moaned. "Give it to me, baby!"
She kicked her legs up in the air and pointed her toes. She arched her back and rocked her hips, thrusting her tits up high, rubbing them against the phantom chest of the phantom teenage boy.
"I want you!" she growled.
She didn't care anymore that she was married to Otto and had promised to be faithful to him forever. He'd never satisfied her anyway. Not once in their fifteen years of marriage had he ever satisfied her. She was thirty-three, an attractive woman at the peak of her sexual need, and married to a man who had never given her an orgasm, married to a man who used her a few minutes each morning as a sex toy, as no more than a receptacle for his cum, married to man who cared about his own quick pleasure and nothing about giving her pleasure.
Randy would fuck me good, she thought. Randy would fuck me for an hour if I wanted it, all day if I wanted it. Randy loves to fuck, I can tell that. And I know he knows how. He must know all about sex after studying all these magazines.
She snatched the boy's jockstrap off the floor from where it had fallen next to the bed. She draped the mesh crotch over her nose like an oxygen mask. The scent of teenage nuts whirled through her head, getting her high and drunk, dazed and dizzy. Her fingers knifed in her clutching, juicing pussy. Her toes clutched simultaneously with her cunt. Pussycream frothed out of her and dribbled down her asscrack like hot spit, dribbled down farther, getting the bedsheet slippery under her ass. She wondered if the boy would smell her on his bedsheet when he got into bed tonight.
"Ohhh, Randy, I want you!" she moaned, kissing the picture of the cocky, blue-eyed mouth. Each smack of her lips sent throbbing fuck-pleasure through her cunt. She pressed the spit-wet picture to her nipples, letting the boy suck her tits. "Do you like these tits, stud? I bet you've never sucked tits like these, baby! I bet you've never fucked a cunt like mine!"
In high school she'd had a reputation for being a sexual tigress. The boys had raved about her as much as the girls had raved about Otto Finn. But the stories about her had been true. The stories about Otto had been lies. The girls had made up all the stories. Otto had never fucked any of them. He'd taken them out, but he'd never fucked them. The only female Otto had ever fucked in his life was Kathy. He didn't deserve her, he'd never deserved her.
"Ohhh, Randy, you big beautiful hunk!" Kathy flipped over onto her belly, rubbing her tits against the mattress, kissing Randy's picture. Her back was arched and her ass up in the air as she continued reaming out her pussy with her stiff fingers. Cunt juice drenched her hand. She rubbed her fingers madly against her clit.
She sat up, churning her cunt on her jerking fingers, bouncing up and down and pretending to ride the boy's stiff, vertical cock as she straddled his lap. Her tits flapped. How many boys had she fucked like this in the old days in the front seat of their cars, her hot tits bouncing in their faces, their dripping tongues lapping at her excited nipples? Scores. She'd fucked scores of boys before she'd married Otto.
She imagined the boy moaning, grunting, his big blue eyes nearly popping out of his head as she tightened her cunt and bore down on his cock.
"Ohhhh yes!" moaned, imagining the teens big cock sliding in her cunt. He had a big cock, that was for sure. Unless he stuffed his cutoffs with a grapefruit, he had one hell oft big cock coiled like a cobra inside them. It was the kind of prick she'd imagined Otto as having. "You got a big cock, baby – a big, fucking cock on a big, fucking boy!"
Her heart raced. She panted fiercely, sweat beading on her forehead, sweat dripping from her nose. She hadn't masturbated with such enthusiasm and pleasure in years, maybe never. Her tits bounced like water-filled balloons. Her cunt tightened rhythmically around her jamming, twisting fingers.
She licked the photograph of Randy Chapman and snatched up his jockstrap again and inhaled the scent of his hunky teen balls. The fuck-tension surged through her ass hole and cunt and her loins erupted with spasms. Flashes of white light popped behind her eyeballs.
"I'm coming!" she moaned. "Ohhh, Randy, shoot it in me! Squirt it in my coming cunt! Ohhh, baby!"
She rotated her ass, churning her cunt on her grinding, ramming fingers, juicing hot pussycream in her hand. Randy's picture fell to the mattress as she pressed his jockstrap hard to her mouth and gnawed on the ball-flavored mesh.
When it was over, Kathy pulled the jockstrap away from her mouth. Something was caught between her teeth and she extracted it, holding it up to the light. It was a blonde hair from Randy Chapman's balls. She pulled her right hand, dripping with pussy-froth, away from her cunt.
What am I doing? she thought. What have I done? She glanced at the open bedroom door, once again expecting to see one of the Chapmans watching her.
Nobody was there. In the silence of the big house her heart sounded like a wildly pounding bass drum to her. She eased herself off the bed, pussycream dribbling down her legs like hot syrup. After drying the pussyjuice stain on Randy Chapman's bed with a hair drier, she fled for home.