She worked her panties down over her rounded ass-cheeks until they were far enough down that she could pull one leg free. She spread her thighs wide apart, relishing her abandon as she recklessly skewered her fingers in and out of her aroused pussy.

The smile of the blond-haired boy leapt into her mind. She remembered how his shyness had touched her. He obviously had felt embarrassed about the feelings that looking at her provoked. Her own excitement had embarrassed Martha then. But, looking back on it, she felt only the naked desire. She could imagine that such an untouched boy would be the perfect lover. He would do all the things she wished Frank would do, but knew he would never do.

She could imagine the awe the boy would feel if she let him touch her breast or her pussy. The thought of his trembling admiration made her cunt spew forth moisture. She worked her fingers more harshly. She shoved them as deep as she could get them into her cunt. She reached inside her blouse, inside her bra and pinched her nipple. She pinched it as hard as Frank did in the throes of passion, but this time she felt no contradictory signal of shame. She did not have to worry now that Frank was using her body disrespectfully and belittling her because she responded so readily. When she taught of the boy, she did not feel the guilt and confusion she felt when she had sex with her husband.

She thought of the boy, of both boys, as purity, as romance, as innocence and youth. She could not imagine that they would ever look at a woman as a mere object for their self-indulgent lusts.

She stared at the TV set, but she did not see the picture projected there. She saw the blond boy. She saw his big blue eyes wide with wonder as he watched her stroke her pussy to wet distraction. With the alcohol pulsing through her veins, distorting her thoughts, Martha reveled in the depraved thought of playing with herself in front of the inexperienced boy.