Chapter 1

Freddy, the paperboy, a highschool freshman, a gangly youth with a shock of unruly brown hair, stood awkwardly inside Marge’s doorway. His eyes, wide and innocent, darted nervously around the room, trying to avoid the sight of Marge, his customer, her ample form barely concealed by a thin bath towel. The towel, damp and clinging, did little to hide the swell of her breasts, those magnificent 34Hs that had been the subject of many a furtive fantasy during his paper route. And then there was the glimpse, fleeting yet undeniable, of her smooth, shaved pussy, a sight that sent a jolt of electricity through his adolescent loins.

Marge was bent over her coffee table, rummaging through her enormous purse for a five-dollar bill. Being bent over, she inadvertently offered Freddy a deep view down the cleavage of her bosom, a sight that made his breath catch in his throat. He felt a blush creep up his neck, a wave of heat engulfing his cheeks. He averted his gaze, focusing on the floral wallpaper, the faded rug, anything but the vision of Marge practically offering herself to him. His mind, however, was a whirlwind of forbidden thoughts, images of her naked body superimposed on the mundane objects of her living room. He felt a stirring in his pants, a tightening that was both alarming and exhilarating. He was just a boy, a paperboy, and she was a grown woman, a wife, a mother. But the sight of her, her body so generously displayed, had awakened something within him, a primal urge that he couldn’t ignore.

Finally, she looked up in frustration. ‘I can’t find any money at all,’ she exclaimed, her voice laced with a hint of panic. She saw Freddy’s eyes were frozen on her cleavage, and a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. She quickly straightened up, clutching the towel tighter around her body, but it was too late. The image was already seared into Freddy’s mind, a forbidden fruit that would forever haunt his dreams and fuel his fantasies.

“Come on, Freddy. What say you? do you want a good look at my tits for a week’s paper subscription?” She pulled down the towel enough for him to see the brown of her nipples.

Freddy’s eyes widened, his mouth agape. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, couldn’t believe what she was offering. Marge, his customer, his friend’s mom, was standing before him, half-naked, her magnificent breasts practically spilling out of the towel. His cock throbbed in his pants, a hard, insistent pressure that threatened to burst through his zipper.

He wanted to say yes, wanted to devour those tits with his eyes, wanted to bury his face in their soft flesh. But a flicker of hesitation, a shred of decency, held him back. He was just a kid, a paperboy, and she was a grown woman, a mother. This was wrong, forbidden, dangerous.

But the temptation was too strong, the allure of her nakedness too powerful to resist. He licked his lips, his voice a hoarse whisper. Yes, he breathed, his eyes locked on her exposed flesh. Yes, I want to see.

Marge smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips. Good boy, she purred, her voice husky with desire. Come closer.

Freddy took a hesitant step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of her breast. A jolt of electricity shot through him, igniting a fire in his loins.

Marge moaned softly, her body swaying towards him. She lowered the towel further, revealing the full glory of her tits, their nipples hard and erect, begging for his attention. Freddy’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes drinking in the sight, his mind reeling with forbidden thoughts.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her nipple, his tongue tentatively tracing its outline. Marge gasped, her body arching against his touch, her fingers tangling in his hair. She pulled him closer, her mouth finding his, their tongues entwining in a dance of forbidden pleasure.

The room spun, the world outside fading into a distant blur. All that mattered was the feel of her body against his, the taste of her lips, the scent of her arousal. He was lost in a sea of sensation, drowning in the forbidden depths of her desire.

Marge tugged up on Freddy’s T-shirt. She threw it to the floor. Marge leaned down and pulled Freddy’s nipple into her mouth and bit it. He groaned with the pain. She dragged her long fingernail over his other nipple. “Do you like that, Baby?” she hissed. “Tell me what you want?”