Nell Morrow

Her Peak Of Passion

Chapter 1

Jo Daniels became conscious of the damp feeling at her crotch, turning cooler now in the night air coming through the open door of the patio. She bent over to look between her legs. A wet stain loomed accusingly there, and she hurried through the room on into her bedroom.

She undid her pants and peeled them away from her middle. Holding them up she looked again, as if fascinated by what she had done in them. She caught the heady scent of her honey on them, and somehow the pants drew close to her nose so that she could take the dizzying fragrance deep into her senses. She glimpsed at herself in the big mirror in the room, and shame washed over her again. She snatched the pants down, as if hiding her activities from herself, and glared at her image as if challenging it.

She had seen a young boy as she was coming home, and she had followed him to where he lived. He reminded her so much of Mario. It was as if Mario had never aged as she had. It had been ten years since that night with Mario, ten long, and most times, miserable years. When her parents had discovered what she had done, they had sent her off to a very strict convent. She had turned twenty-one while working many hours a day for her master's degree, then on for her doctorate in psychology. She had lost herself in her studies and research and had pushed sex out of her mind.

Now at twenty-eight, she found it all coming back as if it had been held in check all these years by a dam. Finally the dam had burst loose, and now she was being flooded with desire.

But, and she shuddered at the thought, men her own age or even older, didn't do a thing for her. It had to be a boy, any boy, as long as he was under eighteen. The younger the better. So far she had only pictured a sexual affair with a young boy. But, as her fantasies grew, so did her desires, and she became frightened of herself and what she might do if she had the opportunity.

That boy this afternoon, oh he reminded her so much of Mario.

Now, as she looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes started roving over the reflection of her form, flicking up and down her smooth legs, tracing the flaring curve of her firm asscheeks inside the nylon panties. She could see the way the skimpy material bunched at the little shelf where her round buttocks tucked under and joined the tops of her thighs. And she could see the way the skimpy nylon dipped into the deep cleft between the fresh, saucy globes.

As if taunting herself with her own wickedness, Jo turned her hips slightly until she saw the curving apex of her cunt. The blue panties were nearly black in a wide oval splotch right over her twat. She saw the thin material clinging wetly to her puffy cuntlips. There was a fine line running up the center of the wet patch where the nylon had dipped between the lips and exposed her slit. A few golden curls peeped out from under the leg bands of her panties and glistened damply.

Jo gasped at her reflection and then forced herself to hold still under the scrutiny. Her pelvis made a forward motion as she remembered the young boy and his resemblance to her long lost Mario. Now her thighs turned outward slightly in open invitation to a closer inspection.

In a moment she was trying to visualize her own pussy being stuffed full of the boy's cock. In and out, in and out, and now she was rocking with the motion of it. The dark spot seemed to grow a little bigger, and then it began to glisten as a fresh surge of water from her spring came trickling forth.