Heather Brown - Mom_s boy hunger

He was so young. Couldn't have been more than eighteen. And here I was old enough to be his mother. Lord, my own children were his age.

Why was I doing this? It was insane. Respectable women don't do things like this with the young boys they hire to cut the grass.

But his cock was so big. I'd noticed it right away in the crotch of his tight jeans when he'd come to the door politely asking if I wanted the lawn mowed. I just couldn't stop myself from seducing him.

My cunt had been itching for days, without me really admitting it to myself. Frustration had been building. And then, there on the front porch with sandy hair, freckles and a smile, was the unexpected answer to my dilemma. I knew he was the solution the instant I saw that throbbing bulge in his pants.

I'd immediately agreed to his offer to work in my yard. Then, while he was out there pushing the mower under the hot sun, I'd made my move.

I went outside and watched him work for a few moments, noting the healthy sweat that trickled from his handsome face and stuck his T-shirt to his muscular back. Even at seventeen he was a hunk.

I knew I wanted him. Had to have him. Would do anything.

I walked over to where he was toiling. "You look hot," I said. "Why don't you take your shirt off?"

He mumbled something and then drew the soggy cotton over his head. I had to suppress a gasp at the sight of his bare chest. The scent of male flesh had, never turned me on so.

When he went back to work, I sat on the steps and watched his rippling muscles play against each other. With the sweat drenching his skin, his sinews were glistening. He looked as powerful as a jungle cat. After waiting a few minutes, I got up and approached him again. There was no way I could leave this magnificent specimen alone.

"Why don't you take a break?" I suggested. "Come in the house and have something to drink. I'll fix you some lemonade."

"Okay," he shrugged. "I was getting kind of beat. The weatherman says the temperature is going to set a record today."

Once I had him inside the house, I situated him on the couch while I went into the kitchen to prepare the promised lemonade. It was when I was mixing it in the pitcher that I got the idea of dumping about a pint of vodka into it.

"Say," he said enthusiastically after a couple of gasses of the concoction, "this stuff is great. You make great lemonade, Mrs., uh.. ."

"Lawrence, Mrs. Lawrence. But you can call me Betty. What do they call you?"

"Well, my real name is Horace," he replied with embarrassment. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Buzz."

"Buzz it is," I reassured him. "You're certainly no Horace."

"Thanks a lot, Mrs., uh

"Betty," I reminded him. "Betty."

"Will you have some more lemonade, Buzz?" I smiled.

"Sure," he beamed. "I think I could drink the whole pitcher."

"Please do. After all, I made it just for you."

Within ten minutes all of the lemonade-and the vodka contained therein-was gone. To my delight my teenage gardener was laughing and flushed.

Stumbling over his words. Drunk. And vulnerable. "Hadn't I better get back to work, Betty?" he asked.

"Oh, take your time," I replied. "You still look kind of bushed. Why don't I sit down on the couch next to you and you can tell me a little about yourself. I always like to know a little something about the boys who work for me.

Before he could think about it, I had walked across the room and slipped down beside him. Our thighs were pressing and I could feel how strong he was.

"Are you active in any sports, Buzz?" I started the interrogation innocently enough.

"Yeah," he smiled proudly. "Basketball."

"You don't seem that tall," I cooed, rubbing his leg.

"Well, I'm a guard. You don't have to be too tall to play that position."

"Do you score a lot of points?"

"I averaged fifteen last season."

"Do you mind me rubbing your leg?" I abruptly changed the subject.

"Uh, no-no," he boyishly stammered. "It feels good."

"Would you like to rub my leg, Buzz?"

"C-could I? I-I mean, do you think it would be all right?"

"It would be perfect."

Then I Pulled up the hem of my skirt to show him it would be. When he hesitated I gently seized his wrist and plopped his hand on my exposed xx.

His rubbing was kind of hesitant, so I decided to give him a little encouragement. "Would you like to go higher, Buzz?"

"I-I beg your pardon," "Betty," I-firmly insisted. "You-you re sure you don't mind, Betty?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't, Buzz."

To emphasize my eagerness, I lifted my skirt even higher. The crotch of my panties was now showing it was damp.

Buzz's fingers began to trek up the inside of my thighs. A tingling sensation was rippling through me, making my pussy even wetter and causing my womb to spasm. I was orgasming just from his mere touch.

He stopped his digital probe just short of my snatch. While, on the one hand I appreciated his politeness, on the other hand, I was disappointed he wasn't more aggressive. I had already made up my mind that I was going to fuck him, and the fact that he wasn't as determined as irritating.

"Would you like to feel my cunt, Buzz?" I came right out with it. "I'll play with your cock if you

Nice boy that he was, he was struck dumb, of course. This suited me just fine because it gave me the opportunity to completely capture the initiative. If I had to rape him to get his cock in my pussy, I'd do it.

Guiding his fingers into the well of my crotch, I used my free hand to unzip his fly. To my delight Buzz wasn't wearing any underwear. His cock came springing out like the blade of a knife. God, it was hard!

The instant his exposed hard-on had thrown all pretense asunder, Buzz gouged his fingertips into my snatch. Pushing the panties into my crack, he began vigorously feeling me up the way he might some date in his carat the drive-in movie.

"I could get naked," I played my ace in the hole. "Then you could take off your pants and make love to me.

"You mean, f-f-fu"

"Yes, Buzz, fuck me," I sweetly smiled. "I'd love to feel your big cock in my tight cunt. We could go into my bedroom and do it on the bed. I'd wrap my legs around you and give you the ride of your life."

Drunkenness destroys the inhibitions of even the most decent people. And Buzz was as drunk a young man as he was a decent one. Under the circumstances, I had made him an offer he couldn't refuse.

I led him to the bedroom by the hand. Then, when we got there, I quickly shucked my clothes. His eyes practically bugged out of his head at the sight of my glistening twat and heaving tits.

"I'll take off your pants for you," I said. "I don't want anybody touching that big cock of yours except me."

While he stood there mute, I undid the waist and pulled the jeans down his legs. Then, as he stepped out of the pants, I smeared his prick and nuts with kisses, unable to refrain from orally caressing them.

When I had tasted enough cock and balls to hold me, I jumped up on the bed. There I flopped on my back and spread my legs. The reek from my open cunt made my nostrils flare. This was the first time in my life I'd ever been so horny I cold actually smell myself.

"Get up on the bed with me," I took advantage of my seniority to command.

As though he were my robot, Buzz complied. He was so obedient. I knew I could make him do anything to me that I wanted-nothing like my damned husband.

Buzz's eyes bulged at the sight of my open cunt, and his mouth watered. Best of all, though, an anticipatory pearl of cum appeared at the tip of his dick. I chuckled to myself, knowing there was plenty more jizz where that came from and that I was going to get it all.