Chapter 8

The funny thing about it was that her mother didn't actually seem to be avoiding her. In fact, when Charlene thought about it carefully, she realized that during the course of the twenty-four hours since they'd shared Tim's cock events had simply conspired to keep mother and daughter from conference -- or confrontation -- on the matter.

And the more Charlene thought about it, the more she suspected that cooperation rather than confrontation would result from such a conference.

Still, the fact of the matter was that her mother and she still hadn't exchanged so much as a single word on the matter. Both her intuition and her mind told her that her mother was far from angry over the incident. Rather, Charlene got the distinct feeling that, like herself, her mother was relatively pleased over the way things had begun to turn out. Charlene was coming to realize that she had a streak of voyeurism within her -- and that it was evidently inherited from her mother.

But there was a fly in the ointment. Her mother certainly could have stayed home after work that evening, affording the two of them an opportunity to sit and discuss the entire affair.

Instead, her mother had chosen to go out on a date. And Charlene had more than a suspicion that her escort was none other than Derek.

After that incident last week, too! she fumed.

It made no sense to her -- unless her mother was really stuck on Derek. But then she should have been all the angrier. In which case she would have forgiven him only if she was really hung up on him.

Mom -- in love again?

Derek was a terrific fuck -- and Charlene would more than willingly attest to that fact -- but for someone with whom to settle down in a long-term relationship?

"No way," she said out loud to the empty living room around her. Shaking her head, Charlene flipped on the remote-control of the big color TV console and peeled back the foil from her TV dinner and dug in.

Hours later, the sky outside her bedroom window was dark. Charlene stared out, wondering if a preliminary thunderclap had awakened her.

But then she heard a loud shriek -- followed by raucous laughter.

They're back!

And they were making a hell of a din -- loud enough to be audible throughout the apartment, through the closed door of her own bedroom and through her sleep.

They must be drunk, she told herself, turning over and seeking sleep again. But the noise from the lower level of the sprawling duplex apartment continued unabated.

After about a half-hour, Charlene decided to investigate. She slipped out of the bed and stood naked in the darkened bedroom, listening to the music from downstairs. Then she pulled on her lightweight dressing gown -- the one that was nearly transparent -- slipped her feet into her slippers and left the bedroom.

Her luscious, overdeveloped young tits bobbled firmly as she walked down the stairs. Every step closer to the source of the noise -- it seemed to be coming from the living room -- made the individual sounds more audible.

And those individual sounds inflamed her imagination.

"Go on, Liz -- shake that thing!" Derek's voice called.

What the hell is going on?

Another few steps closer -- and Charlene could hear her mother humming.

The evening's selection seemed to be The Stripper. It hadn't been chosen without reason, either.

Oh, for crying out loud!

"Whoooo -- EEE! Do it to it, Liz baby!" Derek whooped.

Charlene peered cautiously around the door jamb.

Liz was in the center of the living room floor, clad only in sheer hose, panties and bra. Various and sundry other items of her clothing were scattered around the living room, much of it on the floor at Derek's feet. He sat on the sofa. On the end table beside him were two old-fashioned glasses about half-full -- or half-empty -- with a dark, smoky liquid. Charlene remembered that both Derek and her mother favored Scotch.

"Da-da-dahhhh! Da-dadee-dahhh! Da-da-dahhh -- da-da-da-da-aaa --"

Her mother was shimmying, shaking, bumping and grinding through an invisible circle in the center of the living room, delivering a little extra flip of the hips in Derek's direction at appropriate times within the dance.

Charlene watched her mother reaching her arms behind her back, stretching her fingers far up to reach the clasps of her bra strap.

"Yeah! Yeah! Take it off, baby!" Derek yipped. He took another long pull on one of the glasses.

Liz brought her arms back in front of her, the bra loosened but still holding to her breasts. Liz had given Charlene her creamy complexion. Her breasts, so large and full, so ripe and mature -- yet still without a trace of a sag to them -- were snowy hillocks within the black lace cups of the brassiere.

Now she was hunching her shoulders, causing her tits to press towards one another within the cups of her bra -- and the bra itself was beginning to slide forward off her shoulders and down her arms. She put her hands on her own thighs, just above her knees, and bent towards Derek. She was bent almost halfway to the floor and then she began shaking her upper body rapidly, back and forth, from side to side.

Within her ever-loosening brassiere, her tits were bobbling and rippling. Her nipples were stiffly swollen with excitement -- and, Charlene suspected, liquor -- and stood out like scarlet spikes within the black lace of the bra cups. Bit by bit, the bra was sliding off her. The unhooked straps flapped loosely behind her, smacking against her ribs beneath her shoulders.

"Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-daaaaaAHH! Da-da-dada --"

On the last, long Daaaaaaa!, Liz suddenly straightened, arms going wide. She shivered her shoulders, her tits bouncing with as much energy as any tassel twirler's -- and then the bra cups had slid completely away from them, revealing her jugs in all of their quivering, shimmering glorious delight to Derek's smoldering eyes.

Her arms came down, her hands came together. The bra slid down her arms, riding on the shoulder strap. She raised it high over her head in one hand and swung it like some kind of sexy pennant.

"Da-da-da-da-dedede-da-da-da-DAAAAA! Da-dadaaaah-de-"

She was bumping and grinding her mature hips with abandon, now, her furry pubic mound jutting forward beneath the tight panties on every downbeat, jerking it sharply towards Derek with such quick staccato strength that her tits went flopping wildly on her chest.

And as Charlene watched, she realized that her mother really wasn't half bad when it came to exotic dancing -- not bad at all.

"What a stripper -- uh! -- I would have made, eh?"

"You sure would have, LIZ! Hooooo-boy!"

"I'd have 'em beatin' the meat in the front rows!"

"Yeah, shake it -- SHAKE IT!" He clapped his hands raucously.

"Da-da-da-da-da-deDAH!" Now she was bending at the waist, arms stretched straight in front of her and shoulders shaking. Her tits hung low when she did that -- hung low and quivered, vibrated, the hard points of her nipples describing miniature circles in the air. And at the same time, she was working closer and closer to Derek -- until finally she was shaking her tits before Derek at face level.

It was a temptation he was unable to resist. He reached out with both hands, palms upturned, and cupped the hanging masses of her creamy, warm flesh in his fingers, hefting and supporting the luxuriant masses of sensitive tit flesh.

Liz looked up at him without straightening, leaned forward and reached out to touch the tip of her tongue to his lips. "Later, lover, later," she husked to him.

Even from where she stood, Charlene could see Derek's dick bulge give an extra jerk at the brazen promise in her tone.

Derek bent his own head forward, lifting her tits to his lips and gently kissing each in turn. Then he gave them a last, loving squeeze and released her breasts.

Liz smiled vampishly and backed slowly off, still shaking her tits as she straightened.

Derek began rubbing the extended swelling of his prick, trapped within the material of his right trouser leg.

Now Liz no longer bothered accompanying her dance with any pretense at music -- not even humming. Now she concentrated on the movements of her body, intending to arouse -- that, and nothing else.

Slowly, her gyrations became less hectic, less frenetic. Now she drew out every undulation of her hips, every tasty shiver of her bare shoulders, every delicious shake of her naked tits.

Liz pulled her legs close together, then crossed her arms across her heaving breasts and put her hands on her shoulders crosswise. Demurely, she lowered her head, eyes closed. The Reluctant Virgin.

But her eyes opened, and her hands began sliding down over her lovely body. Down over her own upper arms, her forearms, and then her hands were slipping down over her bikini-panty-clad hips, across the brief, bare expanse of pale, cool upper thigh flesh to the sheer tops of her black stockings. Her palms flat against the nylon-clad flanks, her fingers splayed, she drew her hands slowly, caressingly upward.

Her hands came up to her hips. There her fingers accentuated the curve of her pelvic bones, the soft promise of her womanly hips. Then higher, resuming their journey, her hands found and traced the neat indentation of her trim waist.

His fingers were moving more rapidly across the throbbing lump in his pants now. Derek was plainly getting turned on.

Even Charlene herself, as yet undiscovered, observing the entire demonstration, found herself responding to what she was seeing.

Now Liz's hands were coming up over her ribs, slowly sliding to the front of her torso so they could cup beneath the ripe, swelling curves of her firm tits. Her breasts were flawless in their form, the tone of the mounded flesh perfect. Her fingers emphasized that perfection, just the tips grazing over the smooth, silken skin. She pressed her fingers together then, cupping her breasts.

Now she smiled softly down at her own tits, discovering, examining and approving them -- as if all for the first time. Her fingers began to undulate, gently fondling the sensitive flesh. Her nipples, already stiffened, seemed to swell even more with hot blood. They looked to Charlene as if they were going to pop right off her big breasts with the pent-up pressure within them at any moment.

Her thumbs slowly separated from the other fingers, then her hands moved upwards. She caught the turgid points in her finger grip and ever so lightly tugged at her nipples. Then she began rolling them, tweaking them, squeezing them, pulling them so that the nozzles of her nipples themselves were drawn out and the aureole flesh about their bases puckered outward.

Liz slowly looked up, her expression one of steadily growing lust -- and, somehow, of amazement, as if she'd never suspected she could become so utterly and wantonly turned on.

Now the movements of her hands were becoming more ambitious. Her fingers released the aching points of her nipples and she began rubbing her breasts, massaging them with ever more powerful circular motions. Her breasts flowed and rippled with the touch, again emphasizing their size and firm texture.

And all the while she was looking straight at Derek -- whose hand was furiously massaging his cock's rigid length through his trouser leg. He'd slumped forward on the couch till he was barely resting on the edge, his legs sprawled wide open and the big bulge of his scrotum clearly visible through the taut material. He found her staring at him -- and she reacted by parting her lush lips slightly and running the tip of her tongue over them in the most suggestive way she could.

Liz continued rubbing her tits with one hand -- but the other slid south, heading down over her slightly mounded belly, her flat abdomen and slipping beneath the waistband of her black panties. That caused the waistband to slide down and reveal just the uppermost fringes of her soft, downy, curly pubic mat.

Within the crotch of the panties, the movements of her fingers were clearly outlined by the tight material. She was rubbing her pussy lips, inside and out, rubbing her labia and slowly zeroing in on the taut nodule of her clitoris. It was easy to tell when she reached the tip of her clit: her reaction gave her away. Her thighs shook, her knees seemed to weaken, her breasts and belly heaved and her eyes squeezed ecstatically shut.

Then she really turned it on.

Slowly, Liz turned her back on the couch. Charlene, from her angle, could see what Liz was doing but she could easily imagine the effect the sudden, concealing shift in attitude was having on Derek. All he'd be able to see was the firm roundness of her mother's creamy ass cheeks quivering and shaking beneath the abbreviated lace of the panties, the quaking of her mother's shapely thighs and legs, the play of muscle tensions through her hunched shoulders and back -- and occasionally, the bulging of the crotch of the panties between her mother's legs as Liz's fingers probed ever lower to the entrance of her wet channel.

Simultaneously, her mother withdrew the hand from her panties and lowered her other hand from its tit massage. She slipped just the outstretched fingertips beneath the waistband on the outer swelling of her hips. Then, slowly swaying her luscious hips from side to side, she pushed her flimsy panties lower. They moved down off her hips, down over her thighs, down, down, down, revealing the full glory of her rich ass cheeks and the tangle of dark curls shadowing the juncture of her thighs.

Her arms were straight, her shoulders slumped, her panties and rolled band of black about her legs -- and then Liz began bending forward, away from Derek, at the waist. The panties pushed still lower. Her legs, pressed tightly together, drew taut as she bent. Her ass thrust towards his widening eyes. And the pink lips of her hair- surrounded cunt swung slowly into view.

Her panties were around her ankles and her bare feet, her stockinged legs a dusky shadowed expanse of sleek flesh -- and from between the pale skin at the tops of her thighs, there was the wetly glistening pinkness of her swollen cunt lips.

Charlene looked back to Derek to see his reaction to the lascivious display -- and found that he'd unzipped his pants and worked the rigid length of his fully erected cock out of his fly. If anything, it seemed larger than ever to her and as she watched it, she was quite sure she could see it literally pulsing and palpitating. His dick was swelling and jerking like an animal with the scent of food in its nose -- and the food was peering back at it from between her mother's thighs!

Derek had one fist wrapped securely about his blood-engorged shaft and his hand was moving up and down over it.

Again, Charlene turned her eyes towards her mother -- and found that she was putting the final touch on it. As she watched, Liz was slowly working her legs apart. Somehow she'd gotten the panties completely off her and they lay on the floor precisely beneath her slick twat like a shadow of her pubic hair.

Her ankles spread farther and farther apart. Charlene even imagined she could actually hear the wet sucking sound as her mother's cunt lips separated and finally gaped open in brazen invitation. Her hands were still on her ankles and Liz's upper body was bent very low. Her tits swung heavily down towards her chin, almost touching her own shoulders and her dark hair hung down to touch the carpet.

Liz brought her hands up along the insides of her dark stockinged legs till her fingers were at the very tops of her thighs. Her thumbs moved almost idly back and forth, rubbing the sensitive, nerve-covered outer edges of her pussy lips.

"Come here, lover," she whispered.

Like a man in a trance, Derek slid off the couch and onto his knees. He shuffled forward, eyes fixed on the pink gash of Liz's cunt. He bent a bit lower as he came closer -- and then he was pressing his lips to the backs of her rounded thighs. Adoringly, he kissed his way higher, approaching the meal he so hungrily craved. And all the time, he maintained his tight-fisted grip on his cock, moving his hand faster and faster on it.

He pulled his head back from her, stared into the depths of her twat -- and then plunged his face forward, burying his mouth and nose against her damp grotto.

Liz moaned, deep down in her throat. Her hands went flat onto the floor in front of her for support. She groaned again and then began grinding her pussy back into Derek's avidly licking and sucking mouth. Her leg muscles tensed and relaxed repeatedly, her ass cheeks clenched, and unclenched and her hips shivered. Even from where she stood at the edge of the living room doorway, Charlene could hear Derek's slurping and sucking.

"Fill me up, now, lover," Liz hissed from her position upside down through her legs.

Derek plunged his tongue far up her pussy one more time, then raised his head enough to lavish a long, sloppy stroke over the newly exposed pucker of her anus between her spread ass cheeks -- and then climbed to his feet behind her. His prick brushed against the inside of her thighs.

"Yes! Hurry up! Hurry and get that cock inside me, dammit!"

But Derek had been tantalized and had decided to return the favor. Now it was his turn. Gripping his prick shaft now between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, he pressed the head of his dong against Liz's swollen labia, then began rubbing it. Swiveling his hips as he had that first night when Charlene had covertly observed the two of them fucking each other's brains out, he was giving her pussy lips the most exquisite of all massages -- with the velvety flesh at the tip of his prick.

"Ple-ee-ee-ease!" Liz grunted. "Please hurry!" There was a note of pleading in her sensuously lowered voice.

Derek lowered his aim slightly and began moving his hips back and forth. His cock was so stiff that it pressed upwards against her vulva and clitoris. The stiffened prong's broad upper back rubbed along the sensitive, nerve-covered female flesh, and Liz's hips bucked and shuddered with the pleasures of the sensations.