Catherine had lost her own cherry when she was quite young.

She hadn't regretted it in the slightest. Far from it. She was glad to get rid of the damned thing. It had happened in the back seat of a convertible with a boy who could hardly believe it when she let him go all the way. He had been a virgin, too. Catherine hadn't liked him very much, really – he just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

She had decided that morning that it was time to get fucked.

The boy had called and asked for a date a few minutes after she had made that decision.

So he got to fuck her.

After that, Catherine fucked every boy and man that took her out, usually on the first date. If she liked him or found him particularly attractive or exciting, she sucked his cock, as well. Then she met Robert, and her promiscuous period ended.

But she looked back fondly on those days. She identified with her daughter, who was now in those formative years. Lucky Joanne! Catherine imagined her in the car with her date.

What was his name? Johnny something. Johnny Watson, that was it. Not that his name mattered at all. Catherine wondered if he was a virgin. He was a good-looking teenager.

Catherine found herself fantasizing more and more about young boys lately. When she was a teenager, she had preferred older men. Now that she was in her thirties, the thought of fucking a teenage boy drove her wild. She would have loved to seduce a sexy teenaged boy. Preferably a virgin.

Catherine tingled at the thought.

He would be horny, desperate for pussy, yet innocent. She could leach him all about fucking, running the gamut of sexual couplings, introducing him to lust and love.

She figured she would take his cock in her mouth, first. She would suck him off.