Bob was trembling with excitement as he crept toward the bathroom door. Now that the water was running, he felt safe. He knelt and peered through the keyhole, and nearly fell over backwards.
Mrs. Blumfeldt was playing with her pussy! He strained to see more, and his cock slid down his pantleg. Jeez, he was finally seeing it! A real cunt! A red, wet, thick-lipped pussy surrounded by thick, dark curls. He’d never seen anything so exciting.
As the horny older woman rubbed her cunt, her huge tits jumped and quivered in their brief cups. The vast amount of tit-flesh trembling above the black material of her bra fascinated the boy almost as much as her exposed cunt. But his eyes kept returning to her hairy cunt and the red pussylips that she was stirring so enthusiastically.
Until now, Bob hadn’t really believed that women played with themselves as vigorously and excitedly as boys did. Wow! He couldn’t help wondering if his mother rubbed her cunt like that, too. The thought made his cock lurch in his pants. He remembered how much hairier his mother’s cunt had looked when he’d pecked under the table, and he tried to imagine her like this, playing with her bare pussy while he watched.
“Oh, Jeez!” he muttered, watching wide eyed as Mrs. Blumfeldt shoved two fingers into her pussy. She threw her head back and groaned, and Bob saw the pudgy pink folds surrounding her knuckles turn a deeper shade of pink. Her ass was jogging up and down as her fingers worked like pistons.
In his excitement Bob pressed too close to the keyhole and the door swung open with a loud squeaking of old hinges. Horrified, the boy grabbed for the doorknob, but it was too late.
“Bob!” Martha screamed, jumping up and pulling her fingers out of her slippery cunt. They were gripping with shiny juice. Her panties snapped back into place and became even more transparent as they soaked up her pussyjuice.
“I-I…” Bob stammered, his face growing pale as the blood drained from it.
“So,” Martha cried angrily. “So! You like to peek into bathrooms, do you? Wait till your mother hears, about this!”
“Don’t tell her!” Bob pleaded. Tears formed in his eyes. “Please! She’ll kill me! Please, I won’t do it again!”
“Well – no! You’ve got to be punished! You’ve been a very bad boy!”
Martha broke off and a disbelieving expression replaced her anger. The boy’s prick was still at least half-hard despite his fear, and it was halfway down his thigh, down his tight pantleg! And it was so huge.
Martha’s lust, already near the boiling point when Bob had so suddenly interrupted her fantasy, came to life again.
“You’ve got to be punished, but… I suppose I don’t have to tell Ann this time. But you’ve got to be punished. How do you think I felt when you stumbled in like that? You embarrassed me terribly, Bob. Now, what kind of punishment do you think you deserve?”
“Uhhh, I-I don’t know,” the boy said weakly.
Terrified as he was he couldn’t help staring at Mrs. Blumfeldt’s body. Her creamy tits shook as she moved her arms for emphasis, plump, milky thighs, crossed by garter straps leading to her black stockings, framed her nearly transparent panty crotch. Bob knew what that tiny bit of black nylon was concealing so poorly, and he’d never forget, no matter how severe the punishment.
wpDiscuz