Part Two – Sylvia Gets Out of Her Rut
“Goddammit, Neil, I’m coming in!”
“Mom, I’m almost done! Hold on!”
“Nonsense! You said that five minutes ago!”
Sylvia had banged on the door enough. Not only was she angry at her son for hogging the shower yet again, the frustration of last night’s dreams lingered on.
Fuck this shit.
She burst into the steamy bathroom and pulled the shower curtain aside, exposing her wet, naked son. Her mind clouded by emotion and need, she suddenly realized the result of her emotional impulse and ended up seeing more of her son than she intended.
Dammit, what am I doing?
His fully erect cock bobbed up and down as he reacted to the surprise intrusion. Sylvia couldn’t help but look.
God, my kid has some nice equipment, and so help me it’s ready for action.
In a heartbeat, Neil whirled away from her, reaching back to grab a towel and wrap it around himself.
“Mom, no!” Neil wailed. “What are you doing?”
“Getting your ass out of the shower is what I’m doing,” Sylvia said forcefully. Still, she couldn’t help but savor the sight of her son’s wet, nude body. “Now GO!”
Jesus Christ, he’s completely naked! Such a handsome boy, and such a nice cock. Now I know what it looks like, for better or for worse. Dammit, now I gotta masturbate before going to work!
Neil retreated, whimpering in protest and embarrassed beyond belief, but his mother didn’t care. Disrobing, she stepped into the shower, again water surrounding her feet. She looked down.
More of his cum in the drain, I see.
She bent over, digging the fresh glop out of the drain screen, rubbing the sticky goo between her index and forefinger. A grin forced its way onto her face.
So beautiful to behold, my boy's cum. It looks so clean, fresh, and pure. Pearlescent. And nourishing, I’ll bet.
Another impulse overtook her and she popped her son’s ejaculate in her mouth. Sylvia’s lips smacked as she licked her fingers. Her skin blazed hot with both arousal and shame at the action. She swirled the cum around her mouth, like a fine Burgundy, tasting it and marveling at its consistency.
God, Sylvia, you filthy woman. But I love cum in my mouth, even if I have to resort to tasting my own son's.
But there was no going back with her, no spitting it out. Never in her life had she spat out a man’s seed and she wasn’t about to start now. With the spray of the showerhead hitting her breasts, she pondered for a second longer.
Mmmm…a familiar taste. I want more, but isn’t tasting my son’s cum incest by proxy?
With a gulp, she swallowed all of it with a naughty smile, knowing she had crossed a small barrier.
As it should be. He’ll never know.
Sylvia managed to wash up and masturbate herself to completion, mouth agape, panting with release as she pressed her face against the tiles before flying out of the house to work. With a firm grip on the Falcon’s steering wheel, she kept a close eye on traffic, the aftertaste of her son’s cum still in her mouth. She couldn’t stop debating whether or not her simple act constituted an unnatural relationship with her boy.
“Coffee, dear?” Bobbie asked, smirking at Sylvia’s disheveled appearance.
"Yes, Bobbie." She pushed her hair back, shaking her head somewhat as if to brush away the mental cobwebs. "Thank you a million times."
Bobbie smiled. “Anything for you, honey.”
That comment made Sylvia take pause, but like the cobwebs, she also brushed it away.
Sylvia, stop letting your horniness misinterpret her words. She’s just a good friend getting coffee for you.
She sat at her desk, sipping the steaming, hot liquid and gathering herself together, trying not to look over to Bobbie sitting at her own desk only ten feet away. This particular morning, Bobbie wore a tasteful silk blouse with a dark paisley pattern, one that may have been just a little too snug. Sylvia marveled at how the straining buttons managed to hold tight under the pressure of her impressive bounty.
I’d love to meet those tits in person someday and see if my dreams are accurate. Fuck, I don’t care if it’s right or wrong.
She looked up one more time to her friend and, like her son the night before, their eyes met. Bobbie smiled, briefly returning the gaze, then returned to her papers. Sylvia shook her head unconsciously, slightly embarrassed but happy and warm.
Jesus, what is going on here?
Hours oozed by sluggishly until the sun reached its peak, although inside the office, far from a window, the only indicator was a large electric clock on the wall. At lunchtime, Bobbie pulled Sylvia away from her desk.
“Let me show you something.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
The two women took the elevator to the seventh floor of the nine-story office building. When the doors opened, they stepped out into the middle of a long, vacant hallway.
“Come with me,” Bobbie said, taking Sylvia by the arm.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Be patient, girlfriend.”
They walked the length of the hallway, silent except for the sound of their shoes on the marble floor, passing opaque windows and closed doors on either side until they reached the end and a large window that looked down on the parking lot below. Turning, Bobbie put her arm around Sylvia's waist as they both looked back down the corridor.
“Since the typing school relocated to the Glen Cove Shopping Mall last year, this floor has been just about empty as can be,” Bobbie smiled. “Nothing left but an old, deaf jeweler in his tiny office, probably napping most of the time.” She pointed to the window on the far, opposite end. “L. Strunk Jeweler” was stenciled in archaic, black lettering on the time-worn glass.
“Okay.” Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “So?”
“One word,” Bobbie smiled, mischief in her eyes. “Privacy.”
Sylvia thought she knew where her friend was going with this but wasn't one-hundred-percent positive.
“Spell it out for me.” Now it was Sylvia who had mischief in her eyes. She felt like a child sneaking around where she shouldn’t be, and it made her slightly giddy.
"Honey, over the years, I've visited every ladies' room in this building to get some privacy, if you know what I mean."
Sylvia nodded as her friend continued.
“Each bathroom has a certain amount of traffic. Some more, some less.”
“Okay.”
Bobbie led Sylvia to a large, ornate door with a sign above it marked “Ladies”. At one time the sign had been internally lit, but either the bulb had blown out, or the power to it had been shut off.
“Come.” Bobbie pushed the door open, pulling Sylvia close behind.
Beyond the door lay a tiny entryway that opened to the right, proceeding to an attractive, Art Deco-style bathroom. Dark, wood-paneled stalls lined one side of the room while regal beige sinks topped with artful chrome fixtures lined the other. A ribbon of decorous, connected mirrors occupied the area above the sinks, which made the room look larger than it really was. The bathroom was obviously designed and built for a high-end clientele of decades past.
Sylvia sniffed, crinkling her nose from the mustiness in the air. By all appearances, the area hadn’t been used recently.
“Wow, I didn’t know this was here.” Sylvia heard her voice echo from the tiles. “It’s much nicer than the ladies’ room on our floor.”
Bobbie stood next to her and slightly behind, her hand returning to Sylvia’s waist.
“I’ve known about this for a long time,” Bobbie said in a hushed tone, as if in reverence of the quiet space. “I’m guessing this little hideaway has remained unaltered since they erected the building back in the twenties. It was used quite a lot when the typing school was active, but now…”
Bobbie stood so close, Sylvia could feel her friend’s breath on her neck, making that warm feeling return. Aside from her son’s hugs, human contact was something she didn’t experience often.
I like when she puts her hand on my waist. So casual, but so satisfying.
Like most things built with pride, then neglected over the years, the bathroom exuded a faded glamor, like some beauty queen passed her prime – a few sags, lines, and wrinkles, but still holding an appeal, an echo of what was. Attractive, colorful tilework covered the walls, and elaborate light fixtures hung from above. High, opaque windows covered with years of grime lined the far wall. Sylvia noticed a large brown water stain in a dark corner of the plastered ceiling.
“There’s more.”
Bobbie led her by the hand to another door in the far left-hand corner of the bathroom. Dressing Room was crudely stenciled in black over the old, flaking battleship-gray paint. She turned the rusted knob and pushed to reveal another chamber festooned with dusty cobwebs in the corners of the high ceiling.
“These haven’t been used for god knows how long,” Bobbie said. “At least not for dressing.”
It was Sylvia who snorted this time as her friend gave her a sidelong glance. Full windows lined the right wall, their dirty panes allowing dull light to filter into the space. Sylvia couldn’t help but sigh as Bobbie once again squeezed her waist.
God, this touching is getting me hot.
The room contained three compartments to the left, a pair of louvered half-doors fronting each one. Bobbie pushed one of the stiff, creaking doors aside to reveal a tiny dressing room with a minuscule table built into the wall, a stool tucked underneath. Hooks for hanging wardrobes protruded from either side.
“The whole floor was once a television station,” Bobbie said. “Matter of fact, it was the city’s first experimental station after the war. Some local guy with money saw the future and got a head start on it.”
“How do you know all this?” Reciprocating Bobbie’s gesture, Sylvia boldly placed her hand around her friend’s hip, pulling their bodies together. There was no resistance.
If she can do it, then so can I. Damn, this feels good.
“The public library, girlfriend.” Bobbie turned to her friend, smiling. Their noses almost touched. “Sometimes things get lonesome when I’m at home by myself. I need to get out and do something.” Bobbie gazed deeply into Sylvia’s eyes.
If I moved just one inch forward, our lips would meet.
But Sylvia refrained from acting on that particular impulse. Still, she felt a familiar throbbing in her pussy. Bobbie led her by the hand to another grimy door at the opposite end of the room.
“God, this is like a maze,” Sylvia brushed a cobweb aside.
“And the piece de resistance.” Bobbie pushed the door open with a flourish, reaching to the side to flip a pair of light switches. After several seconds of buzzing, several fluorescent tubes ensconced in more ornate fixtures popped and flickered to life, creating a gentle, yellow glow from above.
“Oh, my!” Sylvia whispered.
Before them, was a decent-sized room, dotted with several ragged but comfortable-looking black-and-white Naugahyde reclining chairs and a sofa on the opposite wall. It was lined with mirrors, just like the bathroom. In the center was a long, solid wooden table on sturdy legs. A large, empty clay pot in the corner suggested there had once been some type of decorative foliage. For a moment, all Sylvia could hear was her heart beating and the hum of the lights. Her lips curled upward in a girlish grin.
This would be a great place to make out.
She squeezed her friend’s hand. Bobbie squeezed back.
“This is what used to be the green room, where people would relax when not performing.”
“Looks like it used to be pretty posh back in the day,” Sylvia said, feeling her friend’s breasts pressing against her side.
“I started to make use of it for my lunchtime diversion.” Bobbie’s eyes turned to look at the side of Sylvia’s face.
“You mean?” Sylvia turned to meet her friend’s gaze. Bobbie smiled and nodded.
“Yep.”
Sweet Jesus! She’s taken me to the place where she masturbates!
“Let me explain the point of this long, drawn-out tour,” Bobbie said. “Here, sit down.”
Sylvia obeyed, slipping into one of the easy chairs, and looking up at her friend.
“This door…” Bobbie pointed to a large, wooden door on the opposite side of the room, “…is locked. On the other side is the main hallway.” She looked at Sylvia, her hands on her hips. “Never in all of my time here, since the Eisenhower administration, have I seen this door opened. As a matter of fact, I don’t know if anyone has the key to it.”
Bobbie slid into another easy chair several feet from Sylvia, slightly facing her.
"This is the result of years of study," Bobbie said facetiously, raising an eyebrow. She held her index finger in the air. "When anyone enters the bathroom, and that's seldom these days, I feel the change in air pressure. It's subtle but noticeable. If it's quiet enough, you can actually hear the air whistle underneath the dressing room door."
“You’ve spent a lot of time up here.” Sylvia noticed one of the buttons on her friend’s blouse had popped open. She wondered if it was intentional.
“Yes, honey, I have.” Bobbie smiled, her eyes gleaming. “Anyway, once someone enters the bathroom, they have to make it through the dressing room to get into here.”
Sylvia kept pace with Bobbie’s reasoning and completed her friend’s line of thought.
“So you would have enough time to get decent before someone came in here.”
“Exactly!” Bobbie nodded, touching her nose.
“Oh, my!” Sylvia repeated herself, an impish grin on her face. Unconsciously, she started rubbing her hands up and down the insides of her thighs.
“Oh, my, indeed! I can take care of business and not worry about getting caught.”
"Oh, Jesus," Sylvia giggled. "It's so naughty but so perfect!"
“Isn’t it?” Bobbie’s gaze lingered on her friend’s face.
Heat rose in Sylvia’s cheeks and she realized her hands were up under her skirt, busy rubbing the insides of her pantyhose-encased thighs. All of the touching and talk of masturbation had made Sylvia horny as hell and feeling bold.
“Well, what do we do now?” she asked.
There was a moment of silence as the women eyed each another. It dawned on Bobbie that things had accelerated faster than expected and, in an attempt to defuse the situation, she started backpedaling.
“Oh, Sylvia, honey, I didn’t mean we had to...”
“Why not?” Sylvia interrupted, realizing the tables had turned, at least for a moment, and she was leading the situation. “You’ve gone to all the trouble to show me this little hideaway.”
“Oh, my God.” Bobbie shuddered, eyes pleading.
Sylvia wondered if the look meant her friend was trying to find a way out, or if she wanted them to masturbate together all along. This moment would either push their relationship to the next level or break it apart. Bobbie finally relented, her voice quivering.
“I’m game,” she squeaked.
With those words, Sylvia spread her legs on the comfortable chair, her hands drawing up her thighs to cup her pussy. “We can stop anytime you want,” she said, popping open a few buttons on her blouse. Her friend did the same.
“I’m not backing down, sweetheart.” Bobbie’s voice steadied itself as her confidence started to return. She pulled her top open to reveal a magical valley of flesh.
Breathing audibly by now, both women felt the silent, stale air pressing in on them. They both slipped one hand into their panties while the other hand disappeared underneath their blouses. Within moments, they were lost in the mutual bliss of self-pleasure, mouths agape, as they tried not to look at each other.
Sylvia closed her eyes and, tugging on her sensitive nipple, blurred her fingers against her erect clit. She filled her head with images, her son in the shower, his cute butt and bobbing cock, the prince from her romance novel, then at last Bobbie. She envisioned Bobbie’s bra falling loose and those immense breasts tumbling out to be caressed and suckled.
Oh, God, I’d love to suck those tits all day long.
With Bobbie’s panting in the background, Sylvia slipped deeper and deeper into her fantasy world. The sensation in her pussy increased as she worked her way toward orgasm.
Oh, Bobbie, honey, let me suck those tits. Let me suck them, then suck mine! Oh, please!
Sylvia sank deeper and deeper into erotic bliss. Her lips started moving, random whispers falling out. She moved closer to the edge, her finger now slipping deep inside her wetness. Suddenly, coherent words popped out of her mouth.
“Oh, God! Those big, sweet tits!” she yelped. Her words echoed from the walls.
The sound of her own voice jolted her out of her reverie. Sylvia opened her eyes to see Bobbie gazing at her. She didn’t stop masturbating. She wasn’t going to let that slip destroy the pleasure she was giving herself.
Also teetering on the edge, Bobbie let out a big, beautiful smile. She tugged at her bra, and the next moment, her big tit flopped out for Sylvia to behold.
She gazed at Bobbie’s luscious breast, her mouth agape, her pussy about to burst. It was exactly as she envisioned, with its big, dark areola and unspeakably huge, pointed nipple.
"Uh-huh! Uh-huh!" Sylvia managed to gasp, nodding her head, eyes wide.
The next moment, Bobbie’s face contorted, her body jerking as she climaxed. Still, she never broke her gaze from Sylvia’s eyes.
The next moment, Sylvia followed suit, her body spasming as both women fought to keep from crying out. Bobbie nodded her head, the smile returning to her face as both women massaged out wave after wave of pleasure.
“Goddamnit, honey!” Bobbie rasped. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
All Sylvia could do is let out a loud sigh, savoring the elation of sweet release.
Jesus fucking Christ, that was incredible, but what have we done?
For several minutes, their hands remained on their pussies, fingers dipping into their slick, wet vaginas, as they luxuriated in sweet afterglow. It was Sylvia who withdrew her hand first. Boldly, she licked her juices from her fingers, keeping watch on Bobbie as her friend followed suit.
Goddamn, this is so kinky. But I want to do it...
