Chapter 8: Elizabeth and Ryan

So there I was, sitting on the toilet, wiping my pussy dry after a relaxing pee. Except that once I was dry, I didn't stop wiping. Instead I was savoring the gentle touch of tissue against my sensitive pink lips. It took only a few seconds for me to realize that I was no longer cleaning myself up, I was masturbating.

I had never realized how much fucking I really need. I mean, Artie can take care of me pretty well, and regularly, even though by now I'm pretty sure that he's fucking that air-head secretary of his, the one whose bra size is bigger than her IQ score. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind burying my head in between those boobs myself, but I don't remember enough baby talk to get through to her.

Still, even with Michael and the kids, if you can call them kids, all that extra stuff wasn't satisfying enough for me. It was rather like a narcotic, making me crave even more and more cock. Plus pussy, of course. On the other hand, I was afraid to venture too far; I didn't want to be known as a slut. It's really a small town. So who was available?

Ryan, of course; I smiled out loud as I thought of him. If my Ginny can fuck him, so can I. The only problem was that he and Ernie are tied at the hip; one is almost never without the other. Unfortunately, I can't send Ernie on another trip to Las Vegas with Artie. First of all, Ernie no longer needs a prostitute to lose his cherry, and secondly, I didn't feel like giving Artie free rein to fuck around with anything in a skirt.

Maybe Ginny could help me. Ryan certainly has the ability to get away from Ernie to see her whenever they want.

"Hi, Ginny, it's me."

"Hi, Mom, what's up?"

"I need your help, honey. It's about, er, Ryan."

"Jeez, Mom, are you going through your second childhood? First Ernie, then Michael, now you want to try Ryan? Not that I blame you, certainly."

"Well, I did give you the go-ahead on Ernie, didn't I?"

"You're right, of course. What do you want me to do?"

"I want to be there next time he comes over, and then you disappear."

"He'll figure it out immediately."

"So what? Do you think it'll scare him away?"

"Of course not; he'll be as hard as a piece of iron."

"Good."

And so it came to pass that on the following Sunday afternoon I was at my daughter's apartment. My dress was casual; slacks and a blouse. Since I had no doubt about how I wanted the day to progress, I hadn't worn any panties, although my bra, visible through the translucent blouse, kept a semblance of propriety. I was sitting in the living room, at one end of the couch, when Ryan rang the bell. As my daughter opened the door, he leaned forward as though to kiss Ginny, then saw me and backed off, his face reddening.

"Hi, Ginny. Er, hello, Mrs. Underwood."

"I think you're old enough to call me Elizabeth now, Ryan."

"Er, OK."

Ginny bent and kissed Ryan on the cheek. "I have to go out for a while, Ryan. Why don't you stay here and keep my Mom company?"

The young man had the most perplexed look on his face.

"Don't worry, Ryan. My Mom knows everything there is to know. Enjoy yourself." With that she walked out, intending as arranged to spend the afternoon walking the local Mall. Her specific goal was to buy herself a present from me, some crotch-less panties. Ryan stood there with his brain trying to sort it all out, trying to figure what 'everything' meant, starting to hope that it meant really 'everything'.

"Have a seat, Ryan." I watched him think, trying to decide whether to sit on the chair or at the other end of the couch. His good fortune finally sank in, and he sat on the couch. The silence was thick; he decided to be the one to break it.

"How are you, Mrs... er, Elizabeth?" I ignored the question.

"Ginny tells me that you're a virile young man."

He blushed, shrugged.

"How do you do with the girls, Ryan?"

"OK, I guess." He looked confused. Did I not know 'everything'?

"Do you have much experience with women older than you?"

He just turned beet red; he had no answer.

"Any as old as me?"

Again silence, but this time his eyes widened like saucers.

"Let's have a look at what you've got." With that, I leaned over to his end of the couch, put my hand on his zipper and expertly pulled it down. His pants expanded before my eyes even though my hand was not yet through the opening. I fumbled inside, feeling his growing piece of flesh fighting its way toward the opening in his shorts.

"Why don't you open this damn belt, Ryan? Your jeans are in the way."

He cooperated, of course, and when the belt and buttons were no longer an obstacle, I removed his jeans and under shorts in a single pull, exposing the instrument of my planned pleasure. Not as fat as my son Ernie's, still it was clearly a formidable plaything. Ignoring his cock, I reached down to fondle his balls, to an audible gasp and a visible drop of pre-cum. I wiped it off with the back of my finger and put it to my mouth.

Ryan was terrified for the moment; he hadn't yet started the grin of lust, although he clearly knew how the afternoon was meant to be spent. I could tell that there would be little if any conversation from him for a while.

Leaving Ryan sitting on the couch, I stood and began to open my blouse. I watched his face but he didn't look back at me; instead, his eyes were locked on to my chest. He began to lick his lips as my functional white bra came into view. The blouse fell to the floor. There was an audible gasp when I unhooked the front-closing bra and shrugged it off my shoulders. My puckered nipples stood at attention; they had been hard for hours.

I reached to pull Ryan up to me. He came willingly but stopped part way, his knees bent so that his mouth could suckle on a breast while a hand squeezed its twin. I pulled him straight up and stepped back; the movement of my hands brought his eyes to my slacks.

My hands at my belt communicated what he should have guessed; that I was about to remove my slacks. I smiled inwardly at the anticipation of his reaction once he saw that I was naked down there. As expected, his eyebrows shot up and his eyes opened to their fullest at the sight of my neatly trimmed bush. It wasn't as bald as the pussy that Ginny, my cradle-snatching daughter, his 'regular', displayed but his cock and his mind didn't care.