Disclaimer:

This is a work of Fiction written solely to entertain.

Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also, all characters are 18 years or older.

Story:

Tara Johnson leaned against the window sill and watched her guests chatting on the wide porch of the lodge. They're older than I am, she thought, but they still know how to have fun. So what's wrong with me? Tara was only forty-three, but she felt like a very old woman. The only spark of life, she realized gloomily, was in her cunt which, in spite of all her efforts, persisted in thinking of itself as young. Right now it was creaming heavily, aching for fulfillment, even after twenty years of abstinence. Damn it all, how long would it take before she was released from this unwanted lust? She hated men, never wanted a man in her life again, but her unruly body defied her cool, calculating mind.

Tara tried to turn her thoughts away from herself, to concentrate on her current crop of guests. There were only three of them, four if you counted the dog. It was just the beginning of the tourist season, early June, but by August her Canadian fishing resort would be overflowing with guests, overweight and out-of-condition city people trying to recapture some feeling for Nature. Her three guests today were typical. Clyde and Becky Simmons, a middle-aged couple from Portland, Oregon were doing their best to acquire a tan, but only succeeded in passing from wormy white to sunburned red. Harold Davis, a shy bachelor of around forty-five, showed a little more sense, exposing himself to the sun only gradually, but even in full fishing gear he looked clumsy and inexpert, betraying his urban habits. Right now his dog Rags was taking a crap right in the middle of the carefully tended front lawn which sloped gracefully from lodge to lake. Tara resisted the impulse to throw her shoe at the mutt—Mustn't insult the guests!

With a sigh she turned away from the window and started across the large handsome main room of the lodge; time to get to the kitchen and start lunch for the guests. She was only halfway across the room when the big oak door opened and a stranger stepped inside. Tara gawked. Whoever he was, he hadn't made a reservation. What the hell was he doing here, fifty miles from the nearest town? She and the stranger approached each other cautiously, and Tara found herself staring impolitely but irresistibly.

The stranger was a young man, not even a man, really, he looked to be no more than eighteen or nineteen at the most. And he was incredibly handsome. Tara couldn't help but notice. Tall for his age, a little taller than she was, his young body was already taking on adult and virile characteristics—broadening shoulder, trim waist and hips, firmly muscled arms and legs. He had a nice tan, attractive features, naturally light blond hair which was long and modish. She liked the way his firm limbs showed beneath tight blue jeans and blue work shirt. What a handsome kid! The little girls at his school must cream their panties every time they see him, Tara thought with amusement. But it wouldn't do for her to gawk like that. She was old enough to be his mother.

"Hello," she said, adopting a formal smile of welcome. "What can I do for you?"

The boy was staring just as rudely as she had.

His voice cracked a little as he replied. "Are you Miss Tara Johnson?"

"Yes," she said, amused by his shyness, "I'm Miss Johnson, I own this lodge. Were you looking for a room?"

The boy reddened and said timidly, "I guess you wouldn't know me. I'm Vince... Mother."

Mother! Tara went stiff with shock. It just couldn't be! And yet the name "Vince," the uncanny resemblance, now that she noticed it, to the man she had once loved...

It all came back to her in a flash, the events of twenty years before which she had tried so hard to bury and forget. She fought against the memory, but it rushed over her, bringing back that former life she had rejected, her life as a complete and fulfilled female.

Born and raised in a very small town, Tara had dreamed throughout her adolescence of getting away to the city, leading a glamorous and exciting life. She was ashamed of the fact that her mother kept chickens in the back yard, ashamed that her father was only a worker in a pulp mill. She wanted to rise above her origins, to be beautiful and famous, maybe even a movie star. Well, she didn't make it to Hollywood, but she did make it as far as Seattle, and while she never became an actress, she did become a damned good stenographer. She might even have become a private secretary to a company president, a successful career girl, if she hadn't met Todd Adams.

Tara was twenty-three then, doing well in her profession and happy, she thought, to be living alone in her small city apartment, doing just as she pleased with her time and money. She dated occasionally, but she was not interested in marriage, certainly not yet. She'd seen what happened to her own mother, who'd married at twenty one, had seven kids, and become an old woman by the time she was thirty. That life was not for Tara. She had every intention of remaining free, having fun, enjoying her youth. But all her wise intentions were forgotten when Todd came into her life. The moment she saw him, she felt an irresistible physical attraction, and as their acquaintance grew, she knew she was powerless to resist this man.

They had met when they literally ran into each other outside a department store in downtown Seattle. Tara was emerging from the store in a hurry, her arms piled so high with packages that she could hardly see where she was going. The next thing she knew, she had sat down hard on the sidewalk, her packages flying in all directions. Looming over her, still standing but swaying from the impact of their collision, was the most attractive man she'd ever seen in her life. She only briefly noted his good looks, however, because she was angry.

"Thanks a lot!" she snapped, attempting to rise. She gave a little squeak of pain. God, it felt like something was broken!

The young man was full of concern. "Here, let me help you!" he cried, extending a hand and helping her slowly to her feet. "I'm terribly sorry! It was all my fault! Are you hurt?"

"I don't know," said Tara grimly. "Is it possible to break your ass?"

They both started laughing. "Well, I'm not a doctor," he said and grinned, "but I'd be glad to examine it."

"I bet you would!" chuckled Tara. "Wait, let me move around a little." She took a few steps gingerly, and decided she'd live. "I guess it's intact."

"I hope so!" he exclaimed. "It's too pretty to break!"

Tara blushed, but to her relief he turned away and began gathering up her scattered packages. He wouldn't let her carry them. "I'd like to make amends," he said. "Let me give you a ride home, then take you to dinner."

Tara debated. She hesitated to go out with a total stranger, but on the other hand, he was so pleasant, so polite, and so damned good-looking! Tall, muscular, blond, blue-eyed, only a little older than she was—he was almost the incarnation of her girlish fantasies. Small and dark herself, Tara felt, in this case, that opposites attract very much.

"Well, all right," she said, "but I hope we don't have to do a lot of sitting."

He grinned, making her head swim. "I know a nice quiet place where we can stand up at the bar and have sandwiches."

"Perfect," said Tara, rubbing her sore buttocks.

"By the way," he said, steering her toward his car, "my name's Todd Adams."

"Tara Johnson," she said.

Tara enjoyed herself immensely that evening, in spite of her injuries. After three martinis she didn't feel much pain, and Todd was very amusing, a lot of fun to be with. Never in her life had she felt so powerfully attracted to a man. Before, she had always been able to maintain her self-possession, and she had never been tempted to go too far with a date. Certainly she had normal urges, but she had been able to control them. Now she told herself to be very careful: Todd Adams might be the one man she couldn't resist. But as the night wore on, as she drank more, she felt her resistance melting dangerously.

He took her home around midnight, and Tara allowed him to take her key and open the door of her apartment for her. After that, it seemed impolite to refuse him a nightcap. She mixed two Scotches and handed one to Todd, who had made himself comfortable on the sofa.

"Pardon me if I stand up," she smiled.

"Oh, Christ, are you still sore?" he said. "I hate myself."

"You shouldn't," replied Tara. "It was really my fault. All those packages, I couldn't see where I was going. Anyhow, nothing's broken, I'm sure of that. I'll just have one hell of a bruise for a few days."

"Why don't you let the good doctor examine it?" he leered, using a heavy German accent.

Tara laughed, but she felt alarmed. Here was the pitch, but how would she respond? She felt herself going warm and giddy all over, wanting him like she'd wanted no other man, yet she hesitated to take the risk. Since up to now she'd had no intention of fucking, she used no contraceptives and had none available. Really, it was too risky. She simply couldn't afford to get knocked up. Yet she found herself aching for his touch.

"No thank you, Herr Doctor," she said and grinned. "I think I'll recover without medical help. I could use a little sympathy, though."

He was off the sofa, strolling over to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Tara," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her.

Tara felt her whole body boil as their lips met and his tongue slipped into her mouth. She managed to set her drink on the mantel, then put her arms around his broad shoulders, feeling the firmness of his body through his suit jacket. Oh, God, what a man, she thought feverishly. If ever I gave in to anybody, he'd be the one! But she resisted the idea. It was foolish, risky, and he was almost a stranger. Todd's exploring hands found her large firm breasts, caressing them gently, and Tara felt her pussy creaming. God, how she wanted him!

Looking back on it later, she realized how cool he'd played it. He didn't rush her, didn't try to force the scene. Somehow he sensed her hesitation, and instead of pawing her or trying to remove her clothes, he instead broke the kiss, took her hand, and led her to the sofa. He handed her her drink and picked up his own, being careful not to sit too close to her.

"Are you afraid of men?" he asked gently.

"No," said Tara, her trembling voice belying her statement, "at least I don't think so"

“If you don’t want to, then I can wait.”

Tara was thrilled. He understood, he respected her. Impulsively she leaned over and kissed him quickly. "Thank you, Todd, There aren't many guys like you around any more. Most of them want only one thing."

He laughed. "Now what could that be?"

Tara laughed, too, feeling perfectly at ease with him. She didn't resist when he moved closer and put his arm around her again, and she didn't hesitate to murmur her excitement when he kissed her, using his tongue skillfully in her mouth. She realized vaguely that she was drunk, that she was perilously close to losing control of herself, but she didn't care. He was so attractive, so pleasant, and the way he held her was so exciting. Todd's hands deftly worked on the buttons of her dress, on the hook of her bra, and Tara felt cool air rushing over her bare breasts, then his warm hands kneading and caressing the soft white flesh. Blushing a little, she opened her eyes and looked down at herself.

Tara had always been secretly proud of her tits. They weren't grotesquely huge, but they were quite large and firm and perfectly shaped, the nipples dainty and strawberry pink. She felt proud now as Todd wonderingly cupped and caressed them.

"Beautiful, beautiful," he murmured, bending low to kiss the creamy flesh. He flicked out his tongue and deftly lashed the pink nipples. Tara gave a little gasp of excitement. No one had ever done that to her before, and it felt great. Encouraged by her obvious pleasure, Todd sucked one rosy nipple into his mouth and began sucking it. To her astonishment, Tara felt intense excitement. Her pussy creamed, wetting the crotch of her panties, and she dug her nails into Todd's shoulders. Oh, shit, she'd have to stop creaming like that, or there'd be a stain on the back of her skirt when she stood up—What if he notices? It would be embarrassing. Yet she just couldn't bear to push him away, it felt so good. He sucked the other nipple, too, and Tara sighed and felt her vaginal juices soaking through her slip and dress onto the sofa. Oh, hell, she thought dizzily, why worry about it? Why not just enjoy? She vaguely sensed that she would never again encounter a lover like Todd. "Tara!" His voice was husky and excited. He eased her down on her back, slowly and gently raised her skirt, then began easing down her panties.

Tara was filled with sudden alarm. 'Todd, no!" She gently pushed at his shoulders.

"Take it easy, honey," he crooned, "don't worry. I'm not going to do anything. Just give you a little pleasure, that's all.."

Tara never knew why she trusted him, but she did. With a sigh, she sank back on the sofa and let him remove her panties. He briefly hovered over her small silky black snatch, and then dipped his head downward. Tara gasped as she felt his hot slick tongue-tip on the ultra-sensitive flesh of her clitoris. No one had ever done that to her, either, and it felt marvelous. Moaning, she instinctively opened her legs wider, giving him room to work. His expert tongue flicked and circled her clit, snaked through the delicate pink folds of her labia, and teased the creaming mouth of her cunt.

"Todd!" Her voice was as hoarse and eager as his. "Oh, darling, it feels so nice..."

He thrust his stiff tongue deep into her vagina. Tara yelped—while it was not painful, it was strange and a little frightening. Sensing her alarm, Todd worked gently and carefully, snaking his tongue slowly but insistently in and out of her tight little tunnel. In a few moments, Tara was enjoying it enormously. She writhed, moaned, and creamed all over his face, delighted and unashamed. But just as she was on the verge of her very first cum, Todd withdrew his tongue leaving her to squirm and squeal in frustration.

"Oh, Todd!" she whined. "Don't stop!"

"I know, baby, I know," he whispered, bending to kiss her. "But I can do better than that. I can make it a lot more fun. Here."

He suddenly straddled her chest, without actually sitting on her, unzipped his pants, and drew out his erect cock. Tara gawked at it. Todd seemed to sense that she needed time to get over her timidity, time to see what he was like. He sat quite still, letting his stiff, bloated cock wag before her wide dark eyes, not urging her into any particular response. Tara stared at his dick, which, in her experience, was a little larger than average but no monster. He was circumcised, the purplish head of his cock completely naked and exposed, and a large white drop of cream was bubbling from the dark hole of the glans. Tara reached out and smeared the hot cream all over the slick head of his prick. Todd shuddered a little with pleasure but otherwise remained motionless. Tara curled her fingers around the tight hot shaft, felt its silky flesh, and knew with complete conviction that she wanted him to put it inside her. This was it, her moment to become a woman in every sense of the word.

"Todd," she moaned, "do it. I want you..."

He sighed deeply, his gamble having paid off, but he didn't cease to be gentle. He kissed her lingeringly, then eased down on her, getting his long legs between her yielding thighs. Holding her close, still kissing and nuzzling her cheeks and neck, he pressed the fat creaming tip of his cock into the tiny moist indentation of her cuntal mouth. Tara trembled but did not panic. He pushed gently, gradually, and she whimpered as she felt him sliding his cock into her. It wasn't as painful as she'd expected, perhaps because he was being so careful. In a few moments, to her wonder, she felt the whole thick length of his meat, the tip butting her womb. It was a breathtakingly tight fit, but she loved it.

'Tara!" He kissed her quickly. "Does it hurt? If so, I'll pull out."

"No, no!" she whispered, pulling him tight against her. "It's good, Todd! Do it! Fuck me!"

Only then did Todd's iron self-control fail him. Lodged deliciously tight in her cunt, achingly horny, he could no longer repress the urge to hump her furiously, to fuck her without mercy. Panting, he began to slam his long fat cock in and out of her cunt, seizing her shapely ass to pull her pelvis up against his own, getting deeper and deeper into her. Tara wailed with pain, but he didn't hear her. She sensed what was happening, sensed that now he was operating with his balls, not his brain, and she resigned herself to it. After all, she could only expect so much from him. He was a man, he had a man's needs. She clamped her teeth shut, stifled her exclamations of pain, not wanting to spoil it for him. And to her wonder, the more she concentrated on giving him pleasure, the more she enjoyed it herself. The pain faded, and she felt fierce pleasure in his thunderous thrusts, actually wanted him to stretch and tear and work his dick ever deeper into her.

"Oh, Todd, oh, oh, OHHHHHHH!!" Tara wailed without shame as her first orgasm suddenly washed over her. So this was how it felt to cum! God, she could never get enough to it!

'Tara! AAAGGGHHHH!!" Todd, too, was cumming, his seed spurting hot and abundant in her cunt...

After that, she could never refuse him, and in another month she was pregnant. Todd, who up to that point had been unfailingly kind and gentle, went into a frenzy of rage.

"You stupid little cunt!" he shouted. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you had no protection? I could've used a rubber, at least! Of all the lame-brained stunts!"

Tara stared at him in horror. The man she loved desperately, had turned into a cruel, hostile stranger. "But, Todd," she sobbed, "I thought you knew! Please don't be like this! We love each other, we can get married—"

"Are you kidding?" he sneered. "You can't be that innocent, baby! I'm not looking for a wife, not for a long time yet! I just wanted to get into your pants." And with that, he walked out of her life.

Unfortunately, Tara believed he would return, and so she waited too long to have an abortion. Todd did not return, and she was forced to have the baby. During the months of pregnancy, she became a changed woman, hard and bitter and cynical. Now that she knew what men were like, now that she knew the truth about "love," she would never let a man into her life again. That kind of pain she didn't need. Nor did she need a baby. It was hard enough for a woman to earn a decent living without the added burden of an illegitimate child.

Without regret, Tara gave her newborn son up for adoption. She met the new parents, who seemed to be an ordinary and pleasant couple, and learned that they would name the child Vince. And then she left town. Seattle had too many painful associations for her then, and she longed to get away from people, to be alone. With her savings, she traveled to Canada and purchased a small decrepit fishing resort. Over the years she built it up into a highly profitable business. She was wealthy, free, independent—but was she content? Except for the nagging sexual desire which still plagued her, she believed she was happy enough.

But now, in the space of a moment, her life was completely changed. Without warning, her son Vince had come back into her life, bringing unwelcome memories and responsibilities. Why had he come? Why, in God's name, did he have to bear his uncanny resemblance to Todd Adams, the one great passion of her life? Tara stared at the boy and felt frightened.

"Mother?" He looked pleadingly at her. He was innocent, he couldn't know all the terrible things she knew. It wasn't right to refuse him, to hurt him.

She held out her arms. "Vince, darling." He rushed to her, embraced her, but still Tara was afraid.

“Come on, I'll find you a room. You can have a warm bath and get some rest."

The boy followed her obediently up the wide main staircase of the lodge to the second floor. At this time of year there were plenty of vacant rooms, and Tara chose a large one with a double bed and a breathtaking view of the mountains.

While Vince showered, she put fresh linens on the bed and plumped up the pillows. She was glad he was tired, that he had agreed to take a nap. She needed time to collect her thoughts. Never had she dreamed she would see her son again, and she was completely unprepared for this strange event.

Vince emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his lower torso. Again Tara could not help admiring his body, so young and firm and well shaped. She had no doubt that as he grew, he'd become even handsomer, probably even better looking than his father, Todd Adams, if that were possible. She sighed to herself. Would he repeat his father's history, taking advantage of his good looks to seduce adoring girls, then dropping them when they ceased to excite him? Not if she had anything to do with it! But wait, she told herself, I don't even know his plans yet, or why he's here. I shouldn't start thinking like a mother.

"You'll need pajamas," she said. "I have quite a collection of clothes that various people have left here over the years. If you'll wait a minute—"

"Oh, never mind," smiled Vince, starting to unwrap the towel, "I sleep naked always." He dropped the towel to the floor and, in the fleeting moment before he climbed into bed, Tara had an unobstructed view of his body, and of his full-grown prick flopping between his thighs. She couldn't help gawking, and she was glad he didn't notice. He seemed completely unselfconscious about the whole episode.

"Well, get some sleep, then," she said. "I have a lot of work to do, getting lunch and dinner for the guests, but when I'm finished, we can talk."

"Right," Vince muttered, already falling asleep. The poor kid was played out. Tara arranged the covers around him and tiptoed out of the room.

Later she could not have told what she cooked for lunch or what her guests had talked about at the table. Whatever she'd served them, they'd liked it, and the conversation was brisk, but Tara, who ate with them, was oblivious to it all, lost in her own thoughts. If Vince hadn't been so obviously exhausted, she would have questioned him, but as it was, she was completely in the dark. Why had he come to her? What did he want from her? Indeed, how had he even found out about her? When she had given him up for adoption, the new parents had expressed their intention of keeping his birth a secret, never telling him that he wasn't truly their own child. Tara was dying to know how and why their plans had changed. She had a frightening thought: What if Vince had run away? Wouldn't she be in trouble if she didn't return him to his adoptive parents? Well, no use getting all worked up about it now. Later, when Vince had rested, she would get the whole story from him and decide what to do. She only prayed that he hadn't come with the intention of living with her, expecting her to take up the role of mother after a lapse of eighteen years. No way, sonny, she thought.

I don't intend to get emotionally involved with anybody, ever again, not a lover or a husband or even a son. If it's a parent he's seeking, let him find Todd Adams! She smiled at the thought. Wherever he was, Todd would be around forty four now, but no doubt just as devastatingly handsome as ever, still seducing young girls. It would serve him right if a teenage son suddenly appeared on the scene!

When lunch was over, Tara absentmindedly cleared the table, rinsed the dishes, and put them in the dishwasher. Out the kitchen window she saw shy Harold Davis setting off in a rowboat for another afternoon of solitary fishing, and she noticed Becky Simmons lying on a blanket in her bathing suit in a vain attempt to turn her sunburn into a tan. Becky was wearing a bikini, Tara noted with distaste and disapproval: bikinis were revealing enough on young girls, but Becky must be pushing fifty and was flabby and overweight, not a very pretty sight. I wouldn't have the gall, thought Tara. Even at forty four she considered herself a little too slack and plump to appear in any sort of bathing suit. Her figure was still attractive, but it lacked the firmness of youth. It had been years, in any case, since she'd dressed to please a man. Day in and day out her invariable costume was a blue jeans, and cotton shirt, and she didn't give a flying fuck what anybody thought about it.

When she had finished tidying up the kitchen, Tara started through the main room of the lodge, intending to check her supplies in the storeroom—when suddenly, out of a shadowy corner, someone leaped at her and enveloped her from behind in a crushing bear hug. With the breath knocked out of her, she couldn't even scream, but she struggled frantically to get loose.

"Take it easy, honey!" The voice sounded somehow familiar, and it was scented with beer. "I ain't gonna hurt you!"

Twisting her neck, Tara looked up into the beefy red face of her guest, Clyde Simmons. His watery blue eyes were twinkling with lust, and as he held her close against him, she felt the rigid line of his erect cock against her buttocks. His big hairy hands ran over her body, seeking her plump tits, cupping and molding them. He was licking his lips.

With an exclamation of disgust, Tara jabbed him in the gut with her elbow. Clyde gasped and bent double, letting her go, and she jumped away to a safe distance.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" she spat. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself, or I'll tell your wife! If you think I run the lodge to provide that kind of service, you can leave right now. I certainly don't mind losing YOUR business!"

She walked away, leaving Clyde groaning with pain on the floor.

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