She had found it terribly difficult to enjoy sex with the many men who lusted after her, although she had managed to admit them to her bedroom and to her cunt. But something always made her hold back. She had orgasms, sometimes even came close to enjoying herself when fucking a horny admirer. But there was always fear lurking somewhere in her mind, fear of the hairy, struggling, sweating man who had raped her so brutally.
Lately she had begun to fear men even more. As her lovers approached the age of her father that terrible night, she began to see hint in them, began to imagine the same disgusting motivations in them that she had seen in her father that night. She began to feel used, began to feel they saw her merely as a cunt, a hole to fuck, and it was this nagging suspicion that made her cool toward men, at least in recent months. She recognized this fear as the shadow of the man who had broken her young hymen so brutally. But merely recognizing the fear for what it was and escaping it were entirely different things.
Carol refused to believe that there was anything deeply wrong with her psychologically. Such admissions were foreign to her. She was a stubborn
and strong woman emotionally. She could weather any emotional storm and come out in one piece. She had done it before and she could do it again. But the storm that was brewing inside her this time was to be too much even for her. It would make her life topsy-turvy and throw her into whirlpools of sexual exploration that would make even Carol's free-thinking mind swim.
Carol was beginning to feel herself attracted to young men, men between the ages of Eighteen and nineteen. It was an attraction that she had forced herself to accept as part of her emotional makeup, even though she knew and had known all along that such attractions were taboo. She had noticed this attraction years ago. Now that her fear of men her own age was increasing, she found her attraction toward young men increasing apace. She didn't entirely understand the deep emotions that drove her, but she recognized them as powerful forces in her life. Something told her that -a new episode in her sex life was about to open.
It was the tenderness, the innocence of young men that made her cunt hot. She felt a deep hunger within her, a hunger for their bodies and souls. She knew that they would not hurt her, knew that their motivations were less aggressive, knew that she would be the aggressive one in any relationship she started with a young boy. She knew that she would feel safe with a boy, safe and free to give her all in the hot fucking that she craved.
Young men were everywhere around her, it seemed. The more she grew to crave the love and
dedication of a young boy the more she noticed them.11 around her. She had never married, fearing entrapment in an endless cycle of distrust and increasing unhappiness. But her friends had married and their sons were a constant temptation for her.
There was little Joey next door. At least he had been little Joey, until recently he had begun to develop into young manhood. But he was still little Joey as far as Carol was concerned. She was powerfully attracted to the boy. He was a bit shy and retiring, just the kind of trait that made her cunt melt inside. He was very good-looking, almost pretty in a boyish sort of way. She loved to watch the boy swimming in her pool. He had brothers, too, Nick and Brad, twins of nineteen. Joey was only nineteen, but he showed signs of developing sexually far faster than usual in a boy that young.
Carol had found herself staring at the kid recently. The Mastersons didn't have a pool of their own and she had opened hers to her favorite young men. She had caught herself looking between the boy's hairless young legs, trying to determine the size of the cock and balls that nestled there under his tight trunks. Just thinking about the boy's developing young genitals and what hot fun she could have with them made her dizzy with excitement. She had found herself dwelling on such thoughts more and more lately. She began to look upon every boy she saw as a prospective fuck. It was a constant torture for her.
Carol knew perfectly well that. lust for young men was one thing that would not be tolerated in
a woman of thirty-five. Such activities were taboo, although she knew perfectly well that some women lusted after young men and got away with it. She was hip enough to realize that people got away with all sorts of things behind closed doors. And yet the taboo had held her back. She knew that it would not hold her back much longer. Her cunt was simply too powerful an influence on her actions.
She had always been very responsive sexually. She was known as a hot-assed woman among the men who had fucked her, and even then she had held back due to her fear of them, although none of them had realized it. Her twat had been blazing lately, blazing with lust for the cocks of young men. She felt the heat even now as she reclined in her chaise, a heat more intense than the heat of the summer sun, a heat so intense that it transcended the state of confusion that made her thoughts confused and had made her. remember her father and her rape, a heat that made her cunt chum and froth wildly.
She began to writhe inside. Her hand was drawn between her lovely long and silken legs, drawn to the swelling lips of her cunt. She put her warm hand over her cunt, feeling the heat through, the skimpy bikini that covered her twat. She couldn't resist rubbing her box, couldn't resist responding to the powerful sexual urge that stained her hot, moistening pussy.
She began stroking her thighs, massaging them until her flesh tingled. Her hand went back to her barely concealed snatch. She rubbed the mound of
her cunt with a gentle circular motion. Then she sneaked her fingers up under her bikini, pushing the material away until she could feel the naked lips of her Nat. She stroked her gash for a while, feeling the ever-increasing surges of pleasure that coursed through her.
Finger-fucking was the only way in which she had found true sexual fulfillment. She hated to do such things to herself, not because she thought there was anything morally wrong with it but because it was such a pale excuse for the ecstasy she knew she would feel if she had a boy's cock inside her cunt instead of her own fingers. And yet even diddling was better than having a straining, powerful, hulking animal between her naked legs, pounding into her cunt with the wildness and greed that made her sick inside.
She found the tiny turgid little bud of her sensitive clitoris and began scratching at it gently with the tip of her fingernail. With each touch of her nail, her horniness increased. She ran her fingers through the nest of light-blonde hair that covered her cunt, imagining that her fingers were the exploring and trembling finger of lacy or one of the many young men she knew. Her other hand fell to her cunt, too, her fingers sneaking in under the material of her bikini from the other side.
With both hands she spread open the lips of her trembling, excited snatch, feeling the juices of her passion covering her fingers with musky dew. She wished she were opening the lips of her pussy for one of the young men she wanted to fuck so badly, wished she were exposing her cunt obscenely,
making them tremble in the presence of her lovely naked body, making them stir deep in their young hairless balls with passion for her.
She closed her eyes and imagined Joey as he would look standing beside her wearing his tight swim trunks and staring between her legs at her wet cunt. She tried to imagine the look of amazement on his sensitive face. She tried to imagine how his nineteen-year-old cock would begin to swell and lengthen inside his trunks. She imagined herself reaching out to touch him between the legs, imagined herself feeling the hardening rod that rested hot and heavy between his slender young legs. She imagined the look of fright on his face as she let him know of her long-hidden desire to fuck him.