Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

The End Of Fosters Part 1	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Views: 2535 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer: Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

Chapter 4: The “P-Word”
Sometimes when Frankie was lonely or depressed, she went onto his Instagraph page. She told herself it was just to be sure he was doing OK. She wasn’t obsessed with him, she told herself. But as a friend she needed to know how he was doing…
She needed to know
She needed…

There were lots of pics of his mom and her new boyfriend Julio. She seemed happy, they seemed happy. She certainly looked tan and fit and Julio couldn’t take his eyes off of her or at least it seemed that way.
There were a few pics of Terrance. His acne had healed but had left scars on his cheeks and forehead. He smiled in a few of the images, though it looked forced. She didn’t hold anything against Mac’s tormentor and maybe that school had helped him. Maybe… The last picture showed him in uniform, evidently, he had enlisted on his 18^th birthday. Maybe that would be good for him. She hoped so.
There were a lot of pics of girls and boys, classmates probably. One especially… her name was Cher. Big blue eyes, big full lips, big fake blonde hair, big tits, big everything. Dark tanned skin.
Cher was the opposite of Frankie in every curve and color.
There weren’t many pics of Mac outside of crowd scenes with his friends… except for one.
Mac in jeans, barefoot, shirtless, standing on a dock. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and chest. She remembered those arms as skinny, the small compact body, the soft sweet weight of him on top of her. The square shaped head and mass of brown hair. Cher is a blurred figure in the background in a tiny yellow bikini.
Frankie remembered her hands running through his soft hair… smelling his musky, sweaty, healthy boy scent.
Mac was 14, almost 15 now and had obviously hit a growth spurt. He was taller than his brother and most of his friends in the pics.
He had filled out.
She didn’t know this Mac at all.
He wasn’t really smiling in any of the pictures, though he didn’t seem unhappy.
Frankie never smiled either, though she did seem…
“The P-Word”, Frankie didn’t lust after children. She liked some kids, though there were a lot of pure stinkers who passed through Foster’s dropping off the Imaginary Friends they no longer had a need for… or they had outgrown.
Mac had been different from the start. A naturally sweet kid, caring, serious but with a spark of playfulness that had melted her heart.
“The P-Word”. She never intended to have sex with him. How could she?
He had come to her in tears. He had been badly beaten by his brother. His eye was swollen and his lower lip was split. Terrance had beaten him up in the school yard, pulled his pants down in front of his friends. Their mother had passed it off, promised to punish Terrance, grounded him for the hundredth time… “as if that ever did any good.” She was trying the best she could to handle a son who was out of control. Unfortunately, her best was at the expense of her younger son.
Where could Mac go except to the one person who loved him wholly and without reservation?
Frankie held him in her arms and rocked him until his tears faded. His tears on her shirt. Her tears… As she crooned to the boy, it just felt so natural to the young woman to want to hold him closer, even if that meant opening her blouse, removing it and holding him to her chest, her breasts. He could hear her heartbeat… beating for him.
She had no right to do that… but it felt right.
He held her tightly, head pressed against her breasts, how natural it felt as he kissed her nipples. She lay back, clutching him desperately. One small sturdy hand on her left breast. Squeezing, molding the strong supple tit-flesh. Exploring the soft gentle reality of her body. His mouth now locked on her other nipple. Feeling with his tongue and lips as the nipple hardened and perked up in his mouth. Sucking gently, sucking hard. He bit gently and she arched her back and hugged him tighter.
She moaned and let him explore.
Time passed…
It was only supposed to be that one time. An accident of the moment.

Of course, it happened again. This time because Frankie’s best friend from school had died in a stupid, careless car accident. Mac had heard about the accident and cut school to come and see her. He comforted her. They touched each other in more places this time. Her face against his naked chest as he stroked her hair and kissed her close eyelids.
It became a thing, their secret thing. Frankie topless in her room. Kisses. No one knew. No one could know! If Madame Foster suspected, she kept their secret.
More time passed…
It seemed natural to go to the next level, though she never thought of it that way. Mac naked, shy… so shy about his body, though he knew that she had seen him naked many times, after sugar rushes. Sugar rushes often began or ended with Mac stripping off, though he didn’t remember doing it when he came down off of the high.
Or did he? Fact is Frankie was always there when Mac exposed himself.
But now, there was no sugar as an excuse. And it was her idea anyway. Their idea. Sitting on the side of her bed, her hand on his penis, the other around his shoulder. Mouths locked together. Her hand. He came for the first time under her gentle but insistent rubbing. Stroking. But that wasn’t enough, that first time. Her cum slickened hand continued to rub and explore. His smooth sensitive ball sack under her gentle digits till he came again in a massive explosion that fountained, blasted cum across their bodies.
She laughed at the embarrassed expression on his face. He blushed bright red! She gently licked a trail of cum off his cheek. He kissed her again.
Calling it a “hand-job” seems crass, dirty. It was an expression of her love… or that’s what she told herself.

Next time. She kissed his prick, his dick, his penis. Calling it a “blow-job” cheapened it for her. It was love, just love. And when he wanted to show his love for her?
She giggled, let him pull off her panties and spread her legs into a V-shape in the air and let him see what a woman’s body was all about. She pulled her feet almost to her ears. She had never done that for any other lover. She was very limber.
His breath tickled the coarse red curls around the fleshy cleft. He marveled at the crest of dark pink skin between her thighs. The sweet musk as she pulled back on the flap of skin to expose the soft moist white pearl atop the whorls of pink wet flesh. It gleamed softly in the light of the candles she had placed around her bed. How could he resist kissing it? Tasting. Savoring her juices.
He remembered the expression on her face the first time she had licked the cum, his cum off her hand. He knew it matched his own expression now as she coated his face with the white foam of her excitement. He slathered his face, licked his lips and dove back in for second helpings.
She guided him to her secret places, teeth and tongue and lips driving her to the edge. Fingers exploring, opening her.
Forbidden love.
Love.
Then the first and last time.

She knew he was leaving. The decision had been made weeks ago by his mother and no amount of argument, pleading or tears by him was going to change anything. His mother felt that the time Mac was spending at Foster’s was affecting the deteriorating relationship between her sons. But she was a good enough person to allow Mac some time alone to say goodbye to everyone at Foster’s.
She had spoken some ugly words to Frankie and the Madame which she later regretted… having no idea about what Frankie and Mac’s relationship had become…
He said goodbye to the Madame and she kissed him on the head told him to be a good boy and went to her room. If there were tears on the old wrinkled face, no one dared acknowledge them. As Mr. Harriman often said, “The Madame never cries. She is beyond such things.”
Mr. Harriman “harumphed” and wished “Master Mac good cheer, safe journeys” and ushered him out of his office because of the demands of work. Mac heard the old rabbit crying behind the closed door.
The Imaginary Friends had lesser reactions. Each one had said goodbye at some time or other to their original children/creators. They were sad for losing Mac. Being around children was what Imaginary Friends craved and Mac was fun! They would miss him. But they knew that children always left in the end.
Bloo and Goo refused to see Mac, they were hiding in one of the tunnels under the house and refused to come out. Bloo never saw his boy again, but would eventually be adopted into a new family.
Goo does not come into this story.

Mac knocked on Frankie’s door and waited for the gentle “Come in.” It was part of the ritual. He always knocked politely. The difference this time was a sniff before the words. “Come in.”
Mac entered and locked the door.
Sad. Surprised. He had never seen her in a nightie before. In panties and bra, yes. Naked, yes. They had showered together a few times and had seen her covered with soap. He had covered her with suds and had loved their slick wet hands on each other… but she had never worn this before.
The nightie was a green mist covering her entire body and leaving nothing to his imagination.
“I wore it special… for you… to say goodbye.”
It was 2:00 PM. They had an hour and a half before his mother and Terrance would come to pick him up.
They had never actually made love before. “Penetration…” That was a line she had promised never to cross. They had crossed every other line, crossed them so often the lines were rubbed out.
Time to erase that last line. Ninety minutes.
Plenty of time.

Frankie had been a different person back them. The Madame’s death was months away in an unsuspected future.
That was the dream Frankie wanted to have. To relieve those last days bittersweet days. She wanted to dream about that first/last time together and the green nightie which lay forgotten on the floor of her bedroom… when she made passionate love to a boy that she shouldn’t have touched, but he had touched her heart and body.
She wanted nothing more than to relive that precious moment when he knelt below her, his hard sweet cock in his hand… knowing what he was supposed to do and no idea how to start. She wanted that moment again when he began rubbing that stiff cock head on her labia lips, afraid and anxious as she waited for him to make up his mind to do what they both wanted, needed. Then the moment of ecstasy as he leaned into her, joined her, became part of her. Inside her… outside of him. Joined.
More than anything else, she wanted to dream about that moment they shared a single connected body.
That moment when he fucked her and she fucked him.
But that wasn’t the dream she had.

Disclaimer: Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The End Of Fosters Part 1