"I haven't, either," Janice replied, lifting her head to look at Susan. "But I liked it! Oh, golly, I loved having my pussy sucked!"

Susan stood up, smoothing her skirt. She looked around at the pasture, wondering what in the world had come over her. She had picked up men before and fucked them eagerly – but never a girl.

Janice seemed in no hurry to pull her jeans on. She got out of the car and stood in the sun, feeling glorious. Susan looked at her, taking in the beauty of this sweet girl as she stood there in her panties, her tits exposed to the sun. Again, Susan thought of Stevie, her son. The image of him fucking this lovely little girl made her tingle with excitement.

Susan sat on the seat of the car, her feet on the ground. Janice came to her, and she pulled the girl between her knees and held her tight ass in her hands, looking at her sweet face. When Janice leaned down and kissed her lips, she returned it.

"I don't even know your name," she murmured. "I'm Susan Morris."

Janice looked at her dark eyes for a moment, then said shyly: "I'm Janice Henderson. I wish you were my mother."

It was a strange thing to say, and Susan asked her about it.

"I don't have a mother," Janice said. "I live with my father. I don't even remember my mother."

Susan felt pity for the girl, but she also felt something else. She wanted to mother the girl, but she wanted more than that; she wanted her sexually, too. She pulled Janice to her.

"I wish I was your mother, too, darling," she whispered, nuzzling the girl's small tits.

"We could play with each other's cunt all the time, then," Janice said with a giggle.

Susan pulled away and looked into those smoldering blue eyes. "I have a son your age. Would you like to meet him?"

"When? Could I meet him now! Oh, I'd love to know your son!"