The boy teaser

CHAPTER NINE

Carol dialed the Mastersons' number and waited patiently, waited for her young lover to answer the phone. She had driven by the Masterson house a few minutes earlier and had seen Joyce and Al

drive away. Joyce had waved at her as if she hadn't seen her in a while. Carol had wondered if Joyce had told her husband about their wild afternoon of lesbian fucking the day before. Carol. had thoroughly enjoyed herself, although she still needed They and his eager young innocence to make her sex life complete.

She had to talk to the boy and discover what effect the spectacle of his mother and her wild antics had on his conception of what was proper in sexual activity. She had all kinds of delicious ideas cooked up for him, ideas that she dared not mention even now, even after their weeks of abandoned sexual activity. She was beginning to have eyes for Joey's young brothers, especially 'Michael, the Mastersons' eighteen-year-old. She wondered if she could catch Michael in her tender trap and hold him as fast as she held his older brother. She heard a voice on the other end of the line, a voice other than Joey's but a youthful voice.

"Is Joey there?" she asked with a sweet voice.

"He's still at school. He's practicing his dives. He'll be back in a few minutes," the voice replied.

"Is this Michael by any chance?" Carol sang, reaching between her legs and scratching at the crotch of her dampening panties.

The boy had such a sweet and innocent voice that Carol couldn't help feeling her cunt melt with desire. She tried to imagine that the young man was with her, standing beside her while she slowly drove herself crazy by working her eager fingers over the barely concealed cunt that Joey. had learned to worship. She needed Joey now, needed

his hard dripping dick, needed his smooth gentle body, needed his glittering blue eyes, needed his youthful grin, needed his innocence, needed above all his willingness to subjugate himself to her feminine chains. But if Joey was still practicing those silly dives of his, perhaps she could interest young Michael in some of the same activities that Joey had taken to so eagerly. It was dangerous, of course, dangerous in the extreme. But that made it even more exciting. As she silently prepared herself for her onslaught, she felt the little surges of fear that had always been somehow associated with sexual pleasure since her rape by her father years before. She felt the little tuggings of fear that spurred her on to even more dangerous and wicked sexual delights.

"Yes, this is Michael," the boy's sweet young voice said. "Who's this?"

"This is Carol Chambers," Carol replied.

"Oh, hi, Miss Chambers!" the boy said.

"I wanted Joey to come over if he could and help me… move some furniture. It's much too heavy for a girl," she crooned.

"Well, he isn't here right now. Maybe I could help. I'm pretty strong," the boy said eagerly.

"That would be wonderful! There isn't really much to move. Just a few things. Are you sure you don't have anything else to do?" she asked, her cunt running with thrilling sensations.

"No, Miss Chambers. I was just watching television. There's nothing much to do around here right now. Nick and Brad are gone someplace so I can't play ball or anything. I'd be glad to help you,

Miss Chambers. When do you want me to come over?" he asked.

"I want you now! Right now!" Carol said, gasping as a hot surge raced up her twitching cunt. "I mean, I… I'd like you to come over as soon as you have time, darling," she said, hoping she hadn't scared the boy off by her seductive tone of voice.

"Sure. I'll be right over, Miss Chambers," the young kid said, a trace of hesitation in his voice.

Carol assumed that Michael had detected something unusual in the tone of her voice, something that he probably hadn't heard in a woman's voice before. He seemed like a sensitive and intelligent boy. His sensitivity made him even more desirable as far as Carol Chambers was concerned. She could hardly wait to get her hands on the kid.

Carol didn't know how to approach the boy. She knew that she would have to decide how to mount her sexual attack in a hurry. It was a short run from the Masterson house to hers. Her cunt was terribly hot and itchy. She knew that she would have to fall upon the boy like a beast of prey. She had to fuck him and she couldn't wait for preliminaries. Her hot gash positively seethed with excitement. She was working herself into a wild sexual frenzy. But it was more than mere sexual tension that spurred her on to the dizzying heights of sexual depravity; it was emotion, too. She longed to hold the trembling eighteen-year-old boy in her loving arms, longed to soothe him, longed to whisper calming words in his ear, longed

to enfold him in a comforting blanket of soft feminine flesh.

By the time Carol heard Michael's gentle tapping at her patio door, she was ready for anything her lust-crazed mind might think up. She walked seductively to the door, sliding it open and confronting the slender young boy with a lovely smile on her face..

"Come in, Michael dear," she cooed. "Are you sure you're able to do the job, darling? You're awfully young…

"The job? Yeah. I guess, Miss Chambers," Michael stumbled, not knowing what to make of the way Miss Chambers looked at him.

Michael had never in his life seen anybody look at him like that. But he had seen his mother look like that at his dad a few times. It was at those times that they had managed to get rid of him. He had a pretty good idea of what they were doing when they looked at each other like that. He had heard about fucking, and he figured that his parents screwed all the time, although they sure were secretive about it. But surely Miss Chambers couldn't be looking at him that way!

Carol led the boy into the living room, being careful to perform her cultivated wiggle of her shapely butt. She was wearing only a simple house dress at the moment, a dress that she knew she could get out of in a second or two. She wore no bra beneath her dress, only panties, which by now were moist with the free-flowing juice of her horny cunt. The way she moved beneath her thin dress she knew that not even a boy as innocent as young

Michael could ignore her womanly charms.

"Where's the furniture you want moved, Miss Chambers?" the boy asked, looking at her strangely.

"Furniture? Oh, yes, the furniture! Well, Michael, dear, you could move the settee over to this side of the room. That is, if it's not too heavy for you," she smiled, her eyes racing up and down the boy's handsome young body.

"Shucks, Miss Chambers, it's not too heavy. I can move heavier stuff than that," the boy said, apparently proud of his youthful strength.

"Yes, Michael, I can see that you're a strong boy. Someday you'll be quite a prize for some girl. You're a very good-looking boy, so handsome, so tall. You are tall for your age, you know," Carol punned, undressing the kid with her lovely mysterious eyes.

"Gosh, Miss Chambers, thanks," Michael said, his voice a bit weak.

The way Miss Chambers was looking at him was driving him nuts, scaring him in a way he'd never been scared before. It seemed that she could see through him, that she could read his mind or something. There was something about that look that struck him as naughty. He wished she wouldn't look at him that way. He quickly looked away from her and all but ran over to the settee, getting behind it and pushing it to the place she indicated. She didn't seem too concerned with the settee, and still she kept looking at him that way. His discomfort grew and grew.

"Is this all right, Miss Chambers?" Michael

asked, looking down at his feet, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

"What? Oh, yes, that's just fine, darling. You moved that so easily, Michael. I tried to move it myself and hurt my ankle dreadfully. I think I turned it in the process," Carol said, sitting on the settee and taking off her shoe.

"Me you okay?" Michael asked, looking at her foot, which she rubbed gently.

Michael thought Miss Chambers had awfully pretty feet, so soft-looking and so dainty, just like his mother's. While she rubbed her ankle, she raised her dress up past her knee. Michael couldn't help looking up her dress. He hadn't seen what was hidden under a lady's dress before. His mother never raised her dress very high, at least not when he was around. And there was something about the way Miss Chambers raised her dress that made him stare at her. It was as if she actually wanted him to look. But that was impossible!

Carol realized that she was catching the young boy's interest with the increasing exposure of her lightly tanned silken leg. She had found it easy to attract the attention of the Masterson men. They all seemed to have an innate interest in fucking. All they needed was a bit of a push in the right direction. Someone had to give them that push, Carol decided, and it might just as well be her.

She raised her dress up well past her knee, exposing more than a proper expanse of naked feminine flesh. She continued to massage her ankle, soothing a nonexistent pain. She gazed at the bay imploringly with a look that could only

evoke the deepest sympathy.

"My ankle really hurts dreadfully, Michael. Do you think you could rub it for me? You have such sensitive-looking hands. Perhaps you'll become a doctor when you grow up. Perhaps you have the healing touch, darling. Will you massage my poor ankle, Michael?" Carol asked, looking her irresistible best.

"I dunno, Miss Chambers," the frightened young lad said. "Do you really want me to?"

"Of course, dear," Carol replied. "Can't you see I'm in terrible pain? Doesn't your mother massage you when you hurt yourself?"

"Gosh no-not very often anyway!" Michael said, looking down at his feet.

"But she has done it?" Carol asked, noticing a peculiar nervousness in the young boy's manner. "What's the matter, Michael? Does it bother you to talk about being massaged? I wonder why?"

"Oh, heck, nothing, n-not really." The boy stuttered, beginning to shuffle his feet, unable to look the lovely woman in the eye.

"We'll have to get to the bottom of this later, Michael my dear. In the meantime would you please rub my foot for me? Come on now, Michael, be a gentleman. A lady in distress you know," she smiled.

Carol reached out and took the boy's trembling hand in hers. She looked deep into his eyes, eyes that betrayed the wicked thoughts that were racing through the innocent boy's own mind. She knew that his innocence, like Joey's was only due to lack of sexual experience. She could see that the kid

thought about fucking all the time. This confrontation with a sultry feminine charmer was making him terribly tense and self-conscious. She loved that look of childish self-consciousness, loved the foot-shuffling, loved the bobbing of the boy's Adam's apple, loved the quick shifting of his glittering blue eyes, loved the way he kept brushing his light-brown hair out of his eyes nervously. She had to fuck the good-looking boy, had to teach him the joys of sex just as she had taught his brother.

Carol drew the kid towards her. When he stood before her looking totally innocent and scared nearly to death, she put her hand firmly on his shoulder and pushed downward insistently. The boy resisted at first, just like a puppy. When he succumbed to the pressure of her light but insistent feminine hand and the dark hypnotizing fire in her lovely eyes, he fell to his knees before her, looking up at her beseechingly.

"Michael, my little lover, you seem afraid of me," she smiled wickedly. "There's no need to be afraid, Michael. All I want you to do is massage my sore ankle." she said, crooking her leg and holding her foot up by his face, knowing perfectly, well that he could see all the way to the crotch of her damp panties, panties which clung to the parted lips of her aroused cunt.

Michael felt more excited than he had the first time he'd gotten a hard-on, and much more afraid. Miss Chambers was so scary that he could hardly look at her, scary in a way he had never experienced before. There was so much of her all

of a sudden, so much of her that he hadn't seen before. She had big boobs swelling under the front of her dress. He hadn't even noticed that before. And she had long, soft-looking legs, legs that were even prettier than his mother's. He hadn't noticed her legs before, either. And she had that thing between her legs that all the men talked about and that he had always wanted to see. He could almost see it now. In fact, he knew that he could see it if he had the nerve to look up her dress. It was awfully dark up there, he knew, but he knew that he could get a good look at it, if only he wasn't so scared. He didn't dare let her think he was looking at her there.

"Well, aren't you going to massage my foot, darling? Or would you rather just sit there looking up my dress?" Carol said sweetly.

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" Michael cried, knowing that he had been caught peeking between the luscious lady's legs. "I wasn't! I didn't!"

"Of course you did, Michael. You looked right between my legs. You wanted to see my cunt!" she said, emphasizing her last word.

"Oh, God! I wouldn't do that! Really!" the boy sobbed.

Carol still held her foot near his handsome smooth face. She touched the side of her perfumed foot to his cheek. She saw a little tear beginning to form in his eye and wiped it away with her toe.

"Don't worry, Michael dear," she said, looking sympathetic. "It's not the end of the world, Michael, at least it doesn't have to be. Do you know what would happen if I told your mother

and father that you were looking up my dress? Do you know how terrible that is, darling? Do you know how embarrassing that would be?" she said, suddenly feeling the powerful position in which she had placed herself.

"Please don't tell Mom and Dad!" the boy cried. "They'd kill me, Miss Chambers! I didn't mean to! I didn't! I couldn't help it, Miss Chambers!"

"Yes, darling, I understand," Carol sang. "I realize that you couldn't help yourself. You're just a curious boy, like all men your age. You were curious about my twat, weren't you, Michael?"

"I guess. Jesus, I couldn't help it!" he sobbed, her dirty words making him feel awfully strange.

"I suppose you wanted to see if my cunt looked the way you'd always imagined, Michael. Have you seen pictures of a woman's cunt?" she asked, her own voice exciting her more and more by the minute.

"Pictures? God, no! Of a… a woman's…?" the boy stumbled, his eyes wide, his jaw slack.

"Of a woman's cunt. Of her cunt, Michael. C-u-n-t! Come now, my boy, we all know about cunts. Your brother has some pictures of a woman's cunt, your brother Joey. Doesn't he let you see them?" she asked, feeling wicked.

"Joey? No! I mean, I know he has 'em. But he never lets me look at the pictures. He says…" the kid began, his words tumbling out of his mouth all by themselves now.

"He says you're too young for that sort of thing?" Carol asked, still stroking the boy's face with her foot. "Of course we know that he's being

silly. Your age has nothing to do with it! You're quite old enough to take an interest in such things. Doesn't Joey want you to grow up to be interested in girls? It's so silly! I think you should be allowed to see a woman s cunt, Michael. Doesn't your mother ever let you see hers? While she's showering or getting dressed?" Carol asked.

"God, no! Mom wouldn't let me see her like that! No way!" young Michael said, soothed somewhat by the soft stroking of the woman's foot against his cheek.

"That's just terrible, Michael dear. You Masterson men would never learn anything about sex if it weren't for me. I won't tell your parents on you if you go ahead and massage my ankle like a good boy," she smiled.

Carol closed her eyes in bliss when she felt the boy's hands on her foot. His hands were a bit cold at first, attesting to his extreme nervousness. His hands grew steadily warmer, however, as he stoked the silken skin of her foot. Carol's seething cunt grew warmer, too. She had to let the kid see her twat. She had to introduce the eighteen-year-old young man to fucking.

"Michael, were you upset when I asked you about being massaged?" "Were you hun?" Carol whispered. "Is there something I should know?"

"Christ, no!" the boy gasped.

"Something tells me you're not telling the truth, darling," she said sternly. "Out with it! And if it doesn't sound like the truth, I'll get on the phone and call your mother. Imagine a boy your age looking up my dress!" she said.

"Jesus! I don't want to tell you! I don't want to tell anyone! I promised I wouldn't tell anybody!" the boy said.

"But you must tell, Michael. And keep rubbing my foot while you tell me all about this little secret. Out with it! No lies! I can tell very easily when a young man is lying to me. My, but your hands feel good…" she sighed.

"If I have to tell," the poor defenseless boy muttered, barely audibly. "I hurt myself once and Mom made it feel better. That's all," he said so quickly that Carol hardly heard him.

"My goodness, Michael, slow dawn! Where on earth did you hurt yourself? It must have been a terribly private place to cause you such embarrassment. I want to know. What happened, Michael?" she said.

"I can't tell!" the boy said, almost crying.

"Very well!" she replied, reaching for the phone on a little table near the settee.

"No, no! I'll tell! I caught my… my 'thing' in my zipper," he said, his face turning bright red.

"Your thing!" Carol laughed, unable to control herself.

When she realized how serious the confession was, she felt the dizzying tunings of depravity stirring deep inside her cunt.

"But you said your mother massaged you once when you got hurt. Are you telling me that she massaged you there?" Carol asked, sitting up suddenly, fascinated by this unexpected turn in their conversation.

"Well, I didn't want her to," the boy whispered,

as if afraid to speak out loud.

"Are you telling me that your mother rubbed your 'thing' for you when you hurt it? Joyce did that? Joyce? With all her prudish ideas about how to raise a family? When did this happen, Michael?" she asked, her pussy seething with nasty excitement.

"A couple of weeks ago," he said in a muted voice.

"Did it make you feel good, Michael? How did her hands feel when she touched you there? Were they warm? Were they soft?" Carol hissed, patting the cushion at her side, inviting the eighteen-year-old boy to sit beside her.

"Sure they were soft and warm! God, it made me feel good!" he said, suddenly realizing how deep he was sinking into a full confession.

"Did your dick get hard? Did it stick straight up? Did your nice young balls feel warm inside and tingly? Did she rub it up and down faster and faster? Did she rub it until your balls ached?" Carol asked, growing uncontrollably excited, uncontrollably lusty.

"God, yeah! But how do you know all that?" the boy gasped, staring at her with innocent amazement..

"Silly question, Michael," the lovely woman cooed. "All girls know about things like that. But your own mother! Shame on you! And shame on her! You should have someone outside your family to make you feel good that way when you hun," she smiled.

Carol reached down and put her hand in the

young boy's lap. She felt his warm cock and balls through the fairly tight denim of his pants. She began kneading the young boy's genitals with her eager fingers, looking into his eyes as she did so. The kid's eyes almost bugged out of his head when she squeezed his cock and balls. She did not relent.

"What are you doing?" Michael gasped, obviously terrified, afraid that he would respond in the only way his body could, afraid that he would respond by getting a hard-on like he had when his mother had touched his dick.

"Is this what she did to you, Michael? What a terrible thing for a mother to do to her eighteen-year-old son! And yet I can't blame her. You're so young and innocent, so warm and sweet. And your cock is getting stiff! Your eighteen-year-old dick is getting stiff under your pants! I can feel it, darling! Am I making that happen to you, little lover? Am I turning you on?" Carol asked, her fingers working slowly but insistently on the boy's covered prick.

"Don't! Gosh, Miss Chambers! Please don't do that! I might…" the excited kid begged..

"You might squirt your cum? Is that what you might do?" she asked.

"God, yes! You don't want me to do that-do you?" the boy asked.

'That's exactly what you did when your mother jacked you off, isn't it, Michael?" Carol hissed, still pumping his growing hard-on.

"She didn't jack me off! She didn't! Really! Honest to God! She just massaged me!" the boy said, begging her to believe him but knowing that

his mother had jacked him off just the way Carol was saying.

"Don't be ridiculous, dear! She got horny and went after her eighteen-year-old son! And your cock shot jizz all over her! I'll bet she felt sorry afterwards. Didn't she, Michael? Didn't she get mad at you?" Carol asked, her fragrant cunt melting between her legs with sensual fire.

"Yeah, she got mad," the boy admitted. "But it wasn't my fault. I couldn't help it! It just came out real fast. And it's gonna come out again! It's gonna happen again the same way if you keep doin' that to me!" the boy gasped, afraid of what she might do or say when he shot off.

'That's perfectly all right with me, Michael dear. I want it to happen. I want to make you feel good. Don't be afraid, honey. You can make me feel good, too, later. Just let it come!" she said, squeezing his. hard little dick inside his denim pants, squeezing and rubbing it at the same time.

The boy squirmed on the settee, his legs as stiff as a board, his arms at his sides, his fists clenched. He was fighting off his impending orgasm with all his might. But there was no fighting the lovely older woman who sat beside him, no fighting off the power of her wantonness, no fighting off the mystery of her beauty and the ability she had to make a boy her slave. He was losing in his battle and they both knew it.

Carol redoubled the speed of her rubbing up and down the boy's twitching dick. Her dress was nicked up now, her naked leg rubbing against the material of the boy's pants. She knew that the kid

could feel her warmth spreading through him, knew that he could feel the warm presence of her body so close to him, knew that he was aware of her femininity deep down inside him, aware of her always despite the confusing and sexually stirring and growing inside his tense young balls. She watched with wicked joy as his face suddenly grew twisted into a look of pleasure-pain. She knew he was coming.

"I can't help it, Miss Chambers!" he cried as he felt his hot young nuts exploding between his tense legs.

Carol felt the wetness of his ejaculated sperm spread over his crotch. The boy almost jumped to his feet when his cock chat off. She held him down and kept kneading his cock and balls. She could feel his dick jerking wildly as he came, spreading his jizz all over his underpants. She felt sorry for the boy's hard little dick, all crammed inside his pants, forced to squirt in such close quarters. She thought he should let his dick out into the open. She waited until his cock stopped shooting and let him calm down a bit before she went any further with her dirty plans.

"Wasn't that nice. Michael? A boy should feel like that all the time, especially when he's so young and sweet," Carol said, kissing the young kid on the lips. "You mustn't let your mother do things like that to-you. Let Carol do it for you, dear. I can make you feel even better than that. Do you believe me?" she asked, planting little kisses all over the boy's face between words.

Michael was ready to believe anything the

beautiful lady said, although he didn't understand how anyone could feel better than he did now. There was nothing like the feeling that went through him when his cum shot out through his cockhead. And there was nothing like the feeling that spread over him after his cock did its thing. He still couldn't believe that Miss Chambers had jacked him off. And she was still rubbing and squeezing his prick, even though his pants were wet and sticky between his legs. She was too much!

"Your pants are all wet now, darling. Wouldn't it be a good idea if you took them off?" Carol suggested, feeling his still rigid dick.

"You gotta be kiddin'!" the boy gasped, amazed at such a nasty suggestion, his head swimming with dizzying excitement.

"Just let me get your belt unbuckled, darling," she said under her breath as she knelt at his feet, attacking his belt and the snap of his denims.

Carol tugged down the boy's zipper and reached inside his pants to squeeze his wet underpants. She touched her lips to her fingers, tasting the young boy's recently ejaculated fuck juice. She felt his cock and realized that the smallish rod. was far bigger than she had suspected. She immediately felt a strong desire to teach the boy how to fuck her twitching hot cunt.

"We can't let you go home in this state, Michael. Your pants are all covered with that nasty sperm! What would your mother say if she saw you like that? I think we'd better take all your clothes off and wash them for you. I can do that myself, darling. We'll just throw them in my dryer and

have you all cleaned up in no time," Carol smiled, tugging off the eighteen-year-old's denims.

"But I don't have anything to put on," the kid said as she pulled his pants free of his shoes.

"We needn't worry about that, Michael. I've seen young men before. True, it might be just a bit embarrassing for you at first. But I think you'll get used to it. You might even like me after a while!" Carol smiled up at him as she pulled off his sopping-wet, sperm-soaked underpants.

There was little that Michael could do under the circumstances. He sat there until she had completely bared the lower portion of his hairless young body. She began unbuttoning his shirt, too. When she had opened it, she helped him out of it. She let him keep his undershirt out of pity. And besides, she thought, he looked even better that way, the white of his undershirt stopping just at the fast flattening of his groin, stopping just where same finely curled crotch hairs were beginning to sprout.

"Follow me, darling," she said, rising to her feet and carrying the boy's clothes under her arm.

Michael stood up and followed her, his hard pecker bobbing up and down as he walked stiffly after. He felt terribly naked. He knew, however, that he would follow her anywhere she might lead him.