Chapter 6

By the time she reached the safety of the quiet beach house Sheila had managed to regain some semblance of self-control after her terrible ordeal. Her experience had been not only a physical ordeal but an emotional one as well. Not only had she suffered physical torment at the hands of the brutal rapists, but her image of herself had suffered too.

In the years since her divorce, Sheila had considered herself too good for the many men who had lusted after her, had considered herself apart from them. All men were bastards, and she had had no intention of submitting herself to their desires.

Little had she suspected that even she could succumb to the powerful urges of her long-denied desires. She had of course been forced to submit to the desires of the brutal men in the theater, but she had entered the place of her own free will and she had to admit that she had enjoyed, in a strange way, the depravity of the situation. Her sex-life had taken a new turn.

She had allowed herself to spy on her son for several days of course, had even allowed herself to admit that she loved the boy in a way no woman dared to love her son. She had even climaxed while Terry and Wendy fucked together on the beach.

But she had lusted after her handsome young son from afar, from the safety of distance. But now she had allowed herself to be sucked into the whirlpool of sexual activity of the most depraved kind imaginable. She had sucked a young boy's cock, had allowed several horny men to fuck her and use her wickedly. Although the men had filled her with revulsion, she still longed for the body-racking orgasm that had been so close in the theater.

Now that she had experienced real fucking and sucking again after so long without it, she knew that her attraction toward her son would pull her to him until she had what she so desperately wanted, until she had him in a wild night of incestuous fucking and sucking.

She knew that it was inevitable now, this union with her only son. It was only a matter of time now. She was powerless to fight the lust she felt for him. She only hoped that she could make him understand, hoped that she could make him want her as desperately as she wanted him.

The lights were off in the house when she reached home. Not wanting to disturb Terry, not wanting him to see her in such a state of disorder, Sheila tiptoed up to her room. She saw that it was after three in the morning. She wanted to fall into bed and sleep for days, but she was covered with the dried sperm of a dozen men.

She had to wash away the last traces of the brutal monsters, had to wash them out of her mind as well. She stripped off her tattered cum- splattered clothes and threw them in a hamper. Tomorrow she would burn them.

Sheila walked naked down the hall to the bathroom, being very careful not to wake her son, whose room was only a short way down the hall from hers. She stepped into a hot shower and luxuriated in the softening warmth of the spray. She lathered herself freely and finally felt clean again after her night of shame and torment. Things didn't look nearly as bad now. Her bruises would go away. The itch in her recently violated cunt was quite another matter.

Sheila couldn't resist dipping her sudsy hands between her slippery-wet legs and stroking the hot gash that had been getting her into so much trouble lately. She could still remember the feel of a hard thick cock buried deep in her hot twat, could still feel the animal warmth of it between her legs, could still feel it rubbing hard against her turgid little clitoris. Her clit was as hot as a tiny flame burning between the lips of her moist cunt.

She touched her clit. She shivered when she felt the tip of her own finger against the flesh of her super-sensitive clit. She had to do it. She had to make herself flash, had to make her cunt burn with the rushing heat of her orgasm.

Leaning back against the cold shower wall, she abandoned herself to the dark desires that drove her wild. She closed her eyes and imagined that her son was in the shower with her. She imagined that her horny son stood before her, holding his long hard cock in his hand, offering his cock to her, offering his body for her pleasure.

She imagined herself falling to her knees and taking Terry's enormous smooth erection in both hands, running her fingers all over the slippery shaft. She imagined herself looking up at him and smiling her sexiest smile, imagined seeing his boyish grin spreading over his face as he watched his mother stroke his hard-on. She imagined herself running her thumb from the root of his cock to the head, making a drop of pre-cum fluid ooze from the eye-slit. She imagined herself bending toward the boy and pursing her wet lips, imagined herself pressing those wet warm lips against the dripping head of her son's cock.

Sheila's eager fingers worked faster and faster against the silken flesh of her cunt as she imagined all the wild things she could do with Terry.

She imagined rubbing a washcloth against her son's furry groin, making a cloud of suds around his jutting cock. She imagined taking his balls in her wet hands, squeezing them, kneading them gently, weighing the sperm-filled eggs, making her son groan with excitement. She imagined feeling the boy's strong young body become suddenly hard when she plunged down over his bulging cock, somehow managing to get his huge cock-head into her pretty mouth. She imagined sucking Terry's throbbing cock deep into her throat, imagined feeling his dripping cock-head swelling against her tonsils.

Pressing her clit between her fingers, her legs shaking, Sheila imagined sucking her son until his eyes widened with lusty excitement. She imagined feeling his rod swell suddenly in her throat, imagined feeling his sperm swelling in his balls, threatening to explode as her tongue flew over the head of his sensitive rod. She imagined pulling her head back and off his cock at the last second, delaying his orgasm, making him wince with pleasure-pain. She imagined hearing a wet plop when her sucking lips pulled free of her son's penis, imagined hearing a painful gasp escape the boy's lips.

Sheila rubbed her thumb against her clitoris until she could almost see stars. Moisture ran from the raggedy lips of her cunt as she imagined the maddening things she could do for her son, and the maddening things he could do for her. She imagined standing up as soon as his erection had snapped up against his hard stomach. She imagined standing before the boy naked and wet, imagined her tits streaming with warm water, imagined rivers of water running from the furry tuft of her cunt.

Sheila imagined herself lifting her wet tits and offering them to her sixteen-year-old son, imagined her nipples stiffening with excitement as the boy ogled her tits. She imagined the boy rubbing a soapy wash-cloth over her naked tits at her suggestion, imagined great clouds of suds running down between the bulging fleshy globes of her tits. She imagined him running his strong young hands over her tits until she trembled inside.

As the fire in her twat continued to rage, Sheila imagined the boy burying his handsome face in the suds that ran down her slightly outcurved naked belly. She imagined feeling her son's tongue flicking over her naked flesh. She imagined feeling his face moving down to her wet thighs, coming closer and closer to the wet hair of her love-mound. She imagined herself whispering sweetly as her son fell to his knees on the shower floor. She imagined herself reassuring the boy, reassuring him that she really wanted him to lick and suck her dripping cunt.

Sheila buried her fingers in the folds of her juicy cunt, moving them inside herself as she writhed in lusty heat. She imagined feeling Terry's nervous yet eager lips grazing the lips of her pussy. She imagined reaching between her lithe legs and spreading her cunt open for him, imagined herself leaning backwards and opening her dripping pussy for her young son. She imagined his eyes when he looked up at her in amazement. She imagined putting her warm hand on his head and moving his face closer and closer to her downy twat.

Sheila could feel her son's tongue moving against the sensitive lips of her tasty twat, could feel the boy's hot breath against her love-mound.

It was as if her son were with her in the shower as she played with the lips of her cunt, bringing herself closer and closer to a mind- bending flash of liquid fulfillment. She imagined her son's hands on her naked tits as he reached up from his kneeling position and felt her tits, felt the very tits that had nourished him.

Sheila imagined her son licking wildly at her cunt, imagined his tongue working fast and furiously between the gaping lips of her hot pussy. She imagined him chewing gently but greedily on the hot wet flesh of her excited twat.

Sheila's dripping cunt tingled and burned with lusty fire, a fire that could not be extinguished even by the cascades of water that still ran down between her legs. She imagined her son rising at her command and inserting his arching erection between the lips of her musky twat. She imagined his cock in her cunt, imagined it splitting her belly with its enormous size. She imagined the hard blood-filled cock sawing in and out of her cunt, imagined it moving faster and faster the hornier her son became.

The hot-assed woman could feel her twat moistening as her imagination ran away with her. Her sucking cunt grabbed the fingers that she had stuffed inside it. By now she had inserted her entire hand into her pussy.

She made a fist inside her cunt-hole and twisted her hand inside her. She gasped when she felt her knuckles rubbing against her inner flesh, driving her wilder and wilder. Tingling, tugging, surging sensations flooded her quivering cunt.

The image of her son was so real, so warm, so full of life that it was as if her twat were tightening around a real cock, a cock as thick as her wrist, a cock with a bulging head as big as her fist.

Imagining her son fucking her with a passion, Sheila began jabbing her fist in and out of her cunt, kindling a raging fire between her silken thighs. Her cunt slurped noisily as she fist-fucked herself. She knew that she could make herself go off wildly at any second.

But it was not enough somehow. It was not enough to bring herself off by masturbation now that she had experienced a real fucking and sucking again after going without it for three years. Her cunt still ached from the wild fucking she had had in the theater.

Her body still remembered the painful experience. And yet the experience had taught her that it was real fucking that she needed. She was almost grateful to the rapists for bringing her so shockingly back to the real world of hot fucking. There would be no more sterile masturbation for her. Nothing could satisfy her now but the son she loved.

She had to have him and she had to have him now. She would act while her cunt was still hot for him. She would act in spite of the taboo of her lust. Nothing was beyond her now.

Pulling her hand out of her pussy with a loud slurp, Sheila left the shower and dried her naked body. Teetering on the brink of a cunt- melting orgasm, the horny woman tiptoed down the hall toward her sixteen-year-old boy's room, her brain filled with images of fucking and sucking.

The light was off in Terry's room. She hoped he was asleep. As she stood outside his room, she realized that she had no idea in the world how to approach her son. She also realized now that she had no choice but to try, no matter how depraved her act would be, no matter how uncertain the outcome.

Sheila trembled when she put her hand on the doorknob and pushed it open ever so quietly. Terry was sleeping soundly, and no wonder. When she remembered that the boy had probably been fucking Wendy all night, Sheila's heart skipped a beat.