Amateur Photography

She lifted the paper out of his mouth. Steve panted. The muscles at the base of his cock were contracting involuntarily, causing it to slap against Barbara's stomach. "Lemme go. Please don't make me cum. Don't do it. I'm sorry."

"Don't be a liar as well as a pervert, dear. Look at this. The second I take my hand off your penis, it starts rubbing itself against my belly. Pathetic. Just think of it as a favor, my boy. Why, in this state, if you didn't cum, something might get seriously backed up."

Mrs. Hamilton was wasting time – just what he needed. He kept one ear out for the backfiring sound. It was getting louder. Maybe he could keep her talking. "Gee, Mrs. Hamilton, I didn't think about that. Good thing you're around to keep things in order, huh?"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, dear." She knelt up from the railing.

"Uh, wait, how 'bout that weather we're having, Mrs. H? Pretty nice, huh?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Has all the blood left your brain?"

"No, just trying to have a little, uh, you know, chat. Us being neighbors and– oh no!" She had moved back to her original position, her hand returning to his erection. He tried to close his eyes again, but Mrs. Hamilton looked absolutely delicious in her bikini. Every one of her luscious curves was either out in the open or attempting to burst forth from thin white material. Her breasts jiggled as her stroking accelerated. A few droplets of pre-cum had landed on her stomach while she taunted him. They left a slick, shiny trail down from her bellybutton to her bikini bottoms. That residue clung to the contours of her body, emphasizing her shape even more. It seemed to point down toward that treasure contained within her bottoms, as if he needed to be reminded of what he so desired.

"Looks like you're ready. Are you ready, Steve? Are you ready to make a mess in mommy's panties?" She pulled the panties up over his hard-on. Now that Barbara's hands had left his shaft, it was free to twitch and jerk inside the panties. The soft, gentle feeling of the lace against his skin nearly enough to set him off at this point. Barbara's hand crept into the undergarment. It held his penis still. Her thumb slowly traced a line up the underside of his shaft while the lace wrapped around and caressed his head. Her other hand reached in and fondled his balls.

The backfiring and rattling reached a crescendo, slowed to a hum, and then stopped. He had done it. No matter what happened, Barbara had no time to escape. And she didn't even seem cognizant of the fact that his mother was in the driveway.

"Stupid oranges," muttered Steve's mother as the fruit worked its way through a hole in the grocery bag. She put her bags on the ground and started collecting them.

Steve knew his time was almost up. He cursed silently. Where the hell was his mother? Maybe that wasn't her car at all. Maybe she had gone to check the mail, idly flipping through bills and fliers while her son was being framed for perversion in her own bedroom.

He wriggled underneath Barbara in a last-ditch effort to get free, but her weight kept him pinned and her legs forced down and in to keep his hands stuck. His movement, however, did have the effect of pushing his erection even harder against the lace and Barbara's hands. Every one of his muscles contracted. He had hit the point of no return – holding it in could only prolong the brief time before the inevitable explosion for a few more seconds.

If he was going to cum, he might as well make one last attempt to get a peek at Mrs. Hamilton. "I can hear Mom's car in the driveway. Take off that top now, or I scream for her," he said, gritting his teeth.

She laughed. "You just never give up, do you?"

He drew in a deep breath. "Mom!" his voice cracked, dampening the scream. The pressure kept building, forcing his muscles to the breaking point. "Mo– oh shit!"

He looked down in horror to see a tiny damp circle form and begin to spread over the lace. Barbara gave his cock a squeeze. "Yes, that's it, shoot for me, boy. Right into mom's panties."

The next big squirt sent chills running through him. The dark spot grew ever bigger to his dismay. Once the third spasm tore through him, though, he lost all sense of his impending doom. Mrs. Hamilton was beaming at him and Marilyn was shooting her sultry smile his way. The two women he desired most were there with him, showing off their bodies for his pleasure while he shot the biggest load of his life into his mother's panties. He laughed as the spasms grew and waned in intensity.

As the last few spurts trickled out, he whispered, "Yes, that's it, Marilyn." His muscles went limp at last. "You minx."

"Huh, perverted and impolite," said Barbara as she stood up. "I get you off and you thank Ms. Monroe?"

He panted, a sense of terror creeping back in to replace his post-orgasm glow. Barbara picked up his camera and pointed it at him. "Smile!" The flash went off, but Steve was on the receiving end this time. He saw himself in the photo. On one side was his profile. On the other, he faced the camera holding a sign that read, "Steven Malone. 6/29/59. Pervert."

"Oh dear, you made a mess of yourself," said Barbara. She grabbed the centerfold and pressed it onto his stomach, where streaks of cum had escaped from the panties. Once it had been soaked up, she leaned the paper against the bars. "There, all better."

Barbara donned her sunglasses and sun hat once again and stuck her cigarette holder back in the waistband of her bottoms. "Ta-ta, Stevie." She walked out the door.

"Mom?" Steve whimpered. What had happened to her?

Steve's mom jiggled the door handle. "Stupid keys." After a brief struggle, she got the door open. Barbara stood in the middle of the living room.

"Barbara, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, hello, Sally. I just borrowed your son's camera for a quick moment and I was looking to return it. The door was open so I came in." She looked down. "Oh, he left a note. 'Look upstairs.'"

"Well, look upstairs, then." Sally put down her bags. "And for God's sake, Barbara, cover up. That outfit may be acceptable at your house, but not here."

Sally tossed a throw blanket from the sofa at Barbara. "Nothing personal, Barb, just the rules of the house."

"All right, Sally." She smiled and then walked upstairs.

Meanwhile, Steve had been attempting to save Marilyn. Globs of semen were spattered across the top of the centerfold. They dripped down, causing the ink to run. Steve blew at the paper, trying to dry or divert the globs. The liquid continued to trickle down despite his efforts. White goo dripped onto Marilyn's head and then soaked into her breasts.

"Oh, Marilyn," Steve whispered as Barbara appeared in the doorway, holding the throw blanket at her side.

"Uh, Sally, you might want to see this," she called out. Steve groaned. That one last breath caused the gooey centerfold to fall forward onto his face.