This is a complete re-write of this classic narrative, especially the second half concerning Beth. It reflects the world we're living in now.
The District Attorney's Office in Santa Clara County employs over 600 people. It's comprised of functional units, ranging from the Asset Forfeiture Unit to the Victims Services Unit. We have already met Lucy's close friend, literally a bosom buddy, Marsha. Marsha is assigned to the Victim Services Unit.
Irene works in the Real Estate Fraud Unit. Irene has been a widow for 15 years, her husband having been killed in the Middle East. Irene holds an important position since home prices in Silicon Valley have skyrocketed. Moreover, fraud is rampant, especially with unscrupulous real estate brokers.
A senior citizen recently had her home up for sale and the home sold for $1.5 million in San Jose. The unscrupulous agent had the woman's furniture destroyed -- with a chain saw -- so the woman could move out as quickly as possible. The 3000 sq. ft. home was literally torn apart. The buyers -- an Indian couple -- had made an offer but the seller had not accepted the offer. There was no contract. The broker clearly deserved to do some prison time. Irene was assisting in this travesty along with the woman's attorneys.
When Irene told Lucy the lurid details, Lucy was shocked. Lucy is an attorney and works closely with the DA's office. Her next question was, "How is Kevin?" Kevin is Irene's nephew, staying with her while he attends San Jose State University. Kevin's mother, Beth, lives in San Diego.
Irene was thirty-eight and her nephew, Kevin, was nineteen. She recognized that she was old enough to be his mother. She was, in fact, like a second mother to him while he attended the university.
Irene's main interest, besides working for the DA in combatting corruption, was in seducing her nephew, Kevin. He was handsome, medium height with a muscular physique. He was on the wrestling team at State. For a fleeting moment she told herself it was a sin against nature. But fuck that, she wanted to get into his pants!
Irene felt she couldn't help herself. She was caught up in the web of her own lust, and Kevin seemed the answer to a maiden's prayer. She'd been a widow nearly eleven years, and during all that time she'd had no more than a few very brief and very unsatisfactory affairs. When Kevin had come to live with her a few months earlier, she had found herself attracted to him. She was wet all the time.
The hour was at hand, as they say. In the afternoon, Kevin would return home from class. She wanted to implement her devious plan of seduction and maybe mess up his life for good. She felt helpless, but the inevitability of it was clear. She suspected that from the first day he had arrived, Kevin had thought about fucking her. He didn't deal in probabilities. He was going to fuck her.
She could see the look in his eyes, the way he eye-balled her body, and most times she could detect the outline of his swollen cock in the crotch of his tight pants.
She imagined him fucking some college girl, visualizing him doing it to some permissive sorority slut. Fuck that! She wanted his sausage up HER ass. You're never too old for a butt fuck. He was looking at her like she was an 'all you can eat' whore. Would he think she was too old? Not from the way he stared at her tits and ass! She could hear him beating off at night.
Irene's pussy quivered nostalgically when she thought of all the wonderful times she had with her husband. He had been good in bed. Philip had taught her all the joys of sucking and fucking. She was multi-orgasmic with Philip. Before he had been killed by a roadside bomb, she had worshipped his deliciously large cock. She suspected Kevin was as well-hung as Philip had been. She moaned softly as she pictured the boy's cock and balls, an immense tube of flesh, just waiting for her to open her legs. She could almost taste his cock.
Kevin had already met a few girls. Irene knew that. What she hoped for was his interest in a woman in her 30's. A woman at that age has been fucked hundreds of times, she's used every conceivable trick to get herself off, from humping the bed post, to jamming dildoes, vibrators, and cucumbers up her snatch. Her pussy has been washed over and over, perfumed, and oiled with Bert's Bees. It's been fingered, teased, and diddled. Most important, a woman's mind may pray to Jesus one hour a week; the rest of the time she's orgasmic and as horny as fuck!
She opened her sheer nightgown and ran her hands over her heavy tits. Every man who had ever seen her naked told her she had a body built like a brick shithouse. It reminded her of that old Army expression. They all went wild over her tits. Her pear-shaped boobs were big and heavy, with long dark nipples and a slight droop that made them look like ripe mangoes. They were big enough so that when she was really turned on, playing with herself, she could lift a tit and suck a nipple into her mouth. She loved doing that. There was something terribly erotic about it. When her husband had been alive, she turned him on by sucking her tits. Besides his cock, that is ...
Next to her tits, the part of her body Irene was most proud of was her ass. She had a gorgeous firm ass, big enough to attract a second look from any man, but not too big to look bad in clothes. Since her career as an paralegal required her to dress conservatively, the beauty of her luscious ass was usually hidden by a dress or skirt.
Kevin was really the only male in a long time to see her ass in a pair of tight short-shorts she wore around the house. Short enough to barely cover the cheeks of her butt. The thought of Kevin's hands on her firm semiglobes made her shiver.
Opening her legs, she ran both hands along the insides of her thighs and up to her pussy. She could see how her thick cunt lips were swollen. She teased herself by touching the hairy labia of her pussy with her fingertips. Just a touch, no more! She did not want to masturbate too much -- she wanted to save something for Kevin. Fuck, she's not kidding anyone. She could masturbate all day long and still be horny!
If her plan succeeded, they would have the whole weekend together. Not to mention the distant future. She wondered if she ought to dress up for him. Why not? she thought. He was like a lover, wasn't he? She should try on some of the frilly things she had, some of the sexy lingerie she hadn't worn in years. Her size was about the same.
She'd seen some of the magazines Kevin had in his room -- the women wore thigh-high stockings and garter belts. Kevin's eyes would pop out when he saw her dressed up like that. She'd be discreet, of course. She'd have her sexy under things covered up by her semi-transparent robe; she could pretend to be little Miss Innocence.
Moving quickly to her bedroom, Irene fished out a black see-through bra and panty set, a black garter belt, and sheer black stockings. She giggled to herself as she laid them out on the bed. She wondered if Kevin ever imagined her dressed up like those women in his magazines. Her husband had been a garter-belt freak. She had always enjoyed turning him on with vintage underwear. She even owned a corset.
Removing her robe, she slipped into her sexy black underwear. Just having the filmy things on her body made her feel slutty. The bra, in particular, had a special construction that made her tits look deliciously lewd. The bikini panties did no more than hide her pubic bush and the crack of her ass. The under swells of her ass-cheeks were clearly visible. The sheer black stockings turned her legs into lovely erotic pillars.
When she stepped into a pair of mules with three-inch heels, the seductive ensemble was complete. She thought she should wear tan stockings, which provided more of a 60's look. It was definitely more erotic. Black made her look cheap. Too whorish. She wanted a bit of innocence. She liked that. It made her look like someone out of a 40's peep show.
Putting on her robe again, she returned to the living room just in time to hear Kevin's key in the door.
She quickly arranged herself on the sofa, taking a few deep breaths, with her robe parted to show the white skin of one creamy thigh above the top of her stocking. There was a magazine -- Scientific American -- lying on the coffee table. She picked it up and pretended to read it.
"Hi, Aunt Irene ," Kevin said. He noticed what she was reading, hardly matching what she was wearing. He usually regarded his aunt as a bit slutty, but reminded himself not to be too critical. He tried not to smile at the contrast -- a slutty vixen reading Scientific American.
"Hello, darling," Irene replied. She caught his hot glance at the opening of her robe and blushed. For a moment she wondered if she'd be able to go through with her plan to seduce him. She imagined his thick young cock angled up from his groin; it gave her incentive not to give up. She was going to have Kevin.
He went off to his room, but then returned a few minutes later. Maybe he jerked off. Maybe he got a condom. There was a glint in his eyes. Her thigh was still uncovered, and now he stared at it boldly. Pretending she did not notice his glance, she seductively crossed her legs to let him see more. She had chucked the magazine under the sofa.
Although only nineteen, Kevin had an eye for beauty. He had a small stack of girlie magazines. Not like Cosmopolitan; that wasn't a girlie magazine. You don't whack off to Cosmo, unless you've slipped a few beaver shots between the pages. When he'd first came to live with her, he'd been thrilled to see how sexy she was. He hadn't seen her since he'd been in middle school. Now he was involved in band practice and working out at the gym. Masturbation for him was only to keep the edge off. That's for middle aged guys whose wives are shrills. You could drink Viagra cocktails all you want, but if your wife is a nag, forget it.
