She wondered if her son would be one of them.

She smiled at the thought.

She would enjoy watching him going through the rites of spring with a pretty little thing. She would enjoy watching him very closely, but on the other hand, she didn't want him to suffer the way she remembered it at his age. Boys, it seemed, suffered more than girls. But that was wrong, Peggy knew. She had suffered horribly, wanting one of those young hard cocks in her pussy, fucking her hard and deep. She had used her own hands and fingers often enough, and suspected most of her girlfriends had, too. Those times she had jacked boys off, her little cunt would boil with need, drenched her panties. A few times, she actually came, although she never let the boys know that. After jacking them off, she would wipe her hand on anything handy, but spend the rest of the day smelling of her hand, her fingers. The scent excited her, kept her in a state of delicious arousal for hours.

Then she married.

Everything was turned loose, and she found out just how hot she really was.

Peggy became insatiable, fucking her husband almost into exhaustion. At first, he seemed happy with what the had, then he began to turn away, complaining of tiredness, and eventually accusing her of being a nympho. That wasn't true, Peggy felt. She just loved the hardness of a cock fucking in and out of her cunt. It was true, however, that she could fuck all day and night. Her fantasies were wild and glorious, and she had made a mistake when she told her husband of them.

He was packed and gone in a short time, saying Peggy was a pervert, a nasty woman, a deviant, and he wanted no more to do with her.