When she saw him gaze at young girls her teeth gritted. Jealous! Even Lily. Well, Lily was a sweetheart and Kit loved her but when the girl's velvety sloe eyes beamed at Sonny, Kit loved her less. And Lily knew it.
Kit had always adored the boy. She doted on him, pampered him, and these past days her gaze had lingered on the sleek hardness of his supple young body, which was mostly bare in this hot weather. Even worse, he thriftily wore last year's shorts, which were too tight and emphasized his genital bulge.
Kit slid two fingers up her seething cunt, thumbed her clit, and began hipping into the manual pressure.
Soon she was panting. Orgasm had always been easy for her to achieve. With a lusty man she often came five or six times to his single ejaculation. Yes, her troubles had stemmed from too ready a cunt. She did not blame Harry for having divorced her. When she was younger she had been unable to resist the blandishments of almost any man nervy enough to back her into a corner and shove a hand in between her legs. At parties, Harry had three times caught her in a bedroom, her legs wrapped around a man's waist.
This morning when she got up she had again peeped into Sonny's room and saw his cock stiffen as he thrashed through an erotic dream.
It was long, rigid, fat-knobbed. A beautiful fuck-tool!
Well, it had gone far enough. She had taken the first step toward sanity by pushing him at Lily. The girl was so hot for him that her legs bowed when he came in sight. Kit felt certain that he would be able to fuck her. And thus he would fall in love with Lily, and see his mother clearly, as an older person, as a mother less needed than before.
She had purposely excited him by making him remove her bra, and letting him see her breasts, intending to get him so horny that he would tumble Lily without further thought.
Kit's hips were wrenching through long, hard jerks. She raised up off the toilet seat, spreading her thighs, rotating her ass. Cuntal convulsions sucked at her fingers. Vaginal juices had begun drooling down her ass.
Her face caught fire. She panted, surging up to the first plateau of orgasm.
She had to get a man!
At the moment only one stud interested her, Don Whitlaw, a guy at the office. He was tall and angular, rather like Sonny. His hair bleached out under the summer sun. Yes, like Sonny's.
But there was something unsettled, overly boyish about Don. And his wife, Myra, was a puzzle.
One night at an office party the three had been drinking together and Kit had felt Myra's hand caressing her behind, even fingering between her asscheeks.
Before she got over the shock of the lesbian pass, other people had joined the group, separating them. She had moved away but not before glimpsing the lust in Myra's eyes.
Perhaps resentment for the woman had helped her decide to seduce Don. And this afternoon at the office she would organize it.
She simply had to get a cock up her cunt.
Her whole body whipped now. Rapidly finger-fucking herself, frantically thumbing her clitoris, she moaned into a full-fledged come, a teeth-gnashing, seething, juice-squirting orgasm.
She pictured Sonny climbing into the cradle of Lily's thighs and spearing into her slit.
The thought tore her inside. But it had to be that way, and she had to get Don Whitlaw in bed.
She lowered to the bathroom mat, knelt, moaning as she gushed over the peak of her come.
On the back porch, Sonny hesitated. He could not go to Lily's with his cock sticking out a foot.
His back lawn was shaded by big maple trees. Lily's yard, adjoining it, used to be like this but her father had cut down the trees to make room for the greenhouse, a glittering expanse of glass bigger than the house to which it was attached. The greenhouse was Mr. Folsom's hobby and also an extra source of income. During the day he worked as an accountant.
When Sonny's erection had eased somewhat, he angled toward the gap in the knee-high hedge that separated the two properties. He moved slowly, ruminating on Kit's actions. Darn it, she could have unhooked that bra herself in two seconds. Then, she could have hidden her breasts when she asked him to kiss her goodbye.
It seemed like she had meant to get him hot and bothered, and then had pushed him at Lily. Did she want him to make it with Lily?
His cock was still throbbing when he opened the greenhouse door and moved into smothering, steamy heat. He passed down an aisle between waist-high benches that bore flats of African violets, which Lily's father grew in batches of five and ten thousand to sell wholesale to shopping centers and roadside markets.
Not seeing Lily, he guessed she was in the house. But in the central aisle he glimpsed her crouched down between the benches, squatting on her heels, shoving clumps of plants into a broken flat.
She did not see him.
Her dark bangs were glossy with sweat. Her habitual work costume was a t-shirt and a blue denim skirt. No undies. Her jutting titties were reproduced on the cotton material by circular smudges from brushing against dirty things around the greenhouse. Every surface was coated with powdery florists' earth and mold. The smudges looked like targets because her nipples were dirtiest.
"Lily," he said.
Her head jerked up, startled. Dark, velvety eyes flashed.
"Oh, shit!" she cried. "You scared me."
"Looks like a fiat came apart."
"Yeah, the bottom wasn't nailed right. Help me."
He sat on his heels facing her. They carefully gathered up clods of florists' earth on which tiny green leaves were clustered, African violets only a few weeks from seed.
He eyed Lily's sun-bronzed, heart-shaped face. It wasn't as pretty as his mother's. That is, it was more lean and hard of chin. Though, Mother had once called Lily's eyes magnificent, and they were, very dark and large and lustrous. Still, he never viewed Lily that way, like sizing up a pretty girl on the street. He knew her too well and mostly saw her like this, working, not dressed up to show herself off. Her t-shirt armpits were dark with sweat but less dirty than her titties, because they stuck out so and squashed against every box or plant flat that she carried.
Lily wasted no time on frills. She wore her hair in bangs that needed only combing to set right. She viewed undies as an unnecessary bother. He could see up her pulled-back skirt to the dark furriness of her pussy.
He avoided looking at it. His cock was throbbing again.
When they had replaced the last clump of seedlings, they carefully lifted the flat, together slipping their hands underneath to hold the loose bottom boards, raised it to the bench, and shoved it in alongside the other flats.
Lily knuckled sweaty hair away from her eyes. She raised an arm and smelled under it.
"Phew! I stink."
Sonny had turned away to hide the stiffness in his shorts.
She said, "I've done enough for today. Want some lemonade? I'm going to shower off the stink."
"Okay."
He led the way to the house, which connected through the open kitchen door. Inside he turned to the refrigerator. Lily went to the bathroom.
Shortly he heard the shower spattering.
He poured two glasses of lemonade, thinking, Kit said I should kiss Lily, that she would love it. Well, he completely trusted his mother's judgments. She was never wrong except about things like baseball. She couldn't tell a strike from a ball until the umpire called it. Sometimes they went evenings to the park when outfits like Moose and Elk played charity games. Lily's father pitched for Moose and Kit always watched him instead of the ball. She had a thing for Mr. Folsom but he was turned off women. His wife, Lily's mother, had bankrupted him. He had kicked her out long ago but he was still paying off her debts.
His eyes got hot when Kit was around him but he never did anything.