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"My, my," she said. "What a gorgeous piece of furniture! Way too nice to hide under a pile of coats, though. Maybe your bed would be better."
We went next door to my room. She immediately strolled over to the built-in bookshelf and browsed through the titles.
"You do have a taste for the erotic," she said, and turning towards me, added: "But I doubt your mother would want her business colleagues to know about her son's dirty mind."
"You're right, I suppose."
"Does your mother ever come in her? Does she know what you read?"
"She's never talked to me about it. But I know she borrows my books. I'm pretty anal. I've got them organized alphabetically and by subject."
"Have you noticed if she has any... special interests?"
"Girls," I said.
"Is she a lesbian?"
"She's never brought a woman home. But at night sometimes while I'm lying in bed, I hear her making herself come, and I have a pretty good idea what book she's reading."
Marsha sat on the edge of my bed. "Does that excite you? Listening to your mother play with her pussy?"
"Yes," I said. "Very much. Especially when her breathing speeds up and she starts moaning. Man, I get so turned-on. I picture her pussy..."
"Have you ever seen your mother's pussy, Joe?"
"She never wears anything under her bathrobe, so when she walks around or sits downs, I catch a glimpse of the hair on her twat."
"What does the hair on her twat look like?"
"Dark and thick...luxurious, I guess you'd say."
"Are you picturing it now, Joe?"
"I can't believe I'm telling you this... Yes, I'm picturing her pussy. Just like when I jerk off, with her in the next room. I try to imagine what her pussy looks like inside - the hole, the clit... Imagining her fingers rubbing and pinching her clit drives me nuts, but I jerk off slowly so we can cum at the same time."
Marsha was staring at the bulge in my pants. "I'd love to see your cock," she said. "Can I help you undress?"
Without waiting for an answer she rose, stripped me of my shirt, unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans and unzipped my fly. Then she stopped for a few seconds to gaze at my crotch before slipping my pants all the way off.
"It's been a long time since I undressed a boy... and even longer since I've sucked a young cock," she said. "Would you like to take off your underpants or have me pull them down?"
I felt an irresistible, almost infantile urge to give myself up to her. "I wish you'd do it," I said.
She removed my underpants, pressed them to her face, and smelled the crotch and seat before tossing them aside.
On both knees now, she licked my balls as if she were devouring an ice cream before it melted on a hot summer day, and then took my cock in her mouth and massaged it so firmly and deeply that I felt as if my whole body was smaller than her tongue.
She paused: "I'm oral," she said. "That's probably what attracted me to catering."
After she giggled, she moistened her middle finger with saliva, reached behind me and lubricated my asshole. Then she moistened her finger again and began slowly rubbing and penetrating, until at the precise moment that my sphincter relaxed, she slid her finger all the way in and began gently fucking my ass.
I instinctively moved my hips as if were a girl and my asshole a willing pussy, and when my thrusting matched the rhythm of Marsha's finger-fucking, with no hands, she gobbled my cock into her mouth and resumed her powerful sucking.
I was close to cumming and she probably sensed it, because she released my cock from her mouth, looked up at my face and asked if I wanted her naked.
"You must have read my mind," I said. "Yes, I want you naked. I want to see your tits and nipples, and I want to watch you play with your pussy... Were you playing with your pussy when you read my story? Your skirt was bunched up around your thighs. I got hard thinking that what I wrote made you masturbate."
"I did, Joe.