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From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} When Opportunity Jiggles (Fm oral) {Kellis}
Date: Wed, 1 Nov 2000 05:10:04 -0500
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When Opportunity Jiggles
a Short Story by Kellis
Copyright (C) October, 2000, Kellis
The good feeling was just rising when the splash distracted him.
Sam looked up from a fascinated contemplation of his glans penis,
too sensitive for him to rub directly, now expanding and becoming
rosy as the pleasure swelled within it, in time to see a large,
bluish-gray bird rise out of the water, throwing sparkling
droplets in all directions, flapping its wings furiously, while a
silvery fish -- a big perch? -- squirmed in its beak.
His hand froze. That's a kingfisher, he thought automatically,
resuming his wrist flexion as the bird flapped away. But again
his attention was distracted.
Directly across the narrow cove from his sun-drenched bank loomed
the Helmhold boat house. Boatless for many years, it was a small
rickety building perched on an even more rickety dock, paint
peeling, water doors long gone, ramp mostly rotted away.
Unwarranted motion in the gloom of its interior had belatedly
registered on Sam's beguiled consciousness.
He did not recognize what he saw until the woman partly raised
her torso. She had been lying on what remained of the sloping
ramp, legs bent down at the knees and spread wide on either side
of the still intact keel guide. He would have thought she was
naked at first, including bare feet, had he understood
immediately. When she rose on an elbow, he saw the summer dress,
actually a jumper, gathered about her waist. She was a woman
approaching middle age, thickly pubed and plump-bellied with
cellulite and a pronounced network of veins in her thighs. A
bare arm with attached hand lay over her right groin, holding
something inside her -- something large enough to spread the
puffy red labia. One sunbeam slanted through a hole in the roof
above her to spotlight the gripping fingers and red lips.
Her glance immediately locked with his across the distance of
perhaps 50 feet. He saw short brown hair and a face of wide,
staring eyes above plump cheeks and mouth fallen open in an O,
unaware that he had reproduced her expression exactly. He also
duplicated her mode of attire, absent clothing below the waist:
bare feet, bare testicles under the hand that partly obscured him
but fully revealed its purpose, with an old T-shirt his only
garment. His pants lay on the grass beside him. A small mound
of pink denoted the location of her panties beside one foot.
He knew her. This was Mrs. Helmhold, Gail's mother. She had
been present on Sunday's picnic with the people just around the
lake shore. Sam had hardly noticed her before, though he had
avidly studied her daughter. Gail, however, thought of Sam only
as a "nerdy thing," and had told him so only yesterday.
What was the woman doing? Curiosity overcame embarrassment. Was
she actually poking something into her cunt? Unconsciously he
resumed his slow strokes. Though he had not meant thereby to
offer any signal, the distant woman reacted as if it had. The
shadows on her hand began to change in a slow rhythm. Whatever
the thing was, she was pushing it in and out of herself in the
glare of the lone sunbeam. His lips parted again in fascination
at the fleshly undulations thus revealed.
His hand moved faster as the pleasure reappeared. The woman sat
up straighter, watching him with matching intensity. Her hand
kept pace with his, the flesh of her thighs jiggling. One of her
jumper straps fell down her arm, exposing a heavy breast with a
large, dark nipple, jiggling even wilder than her thighs.
He stared in fascination, feeling his imminent climax. He arched
his back, pointing his organ directly across the cove, and
whipped it furiously. The first powerful spurt arced out almost
to the water's edge, followed shortly by another. Almost giddy
with the pleasure of it, increased somehow by the female
observer, he heard the beat of blood in his ears -- and a
distinct contralto moan from across the water. Refocussing on
her, he saw her fall back onto the ramp, both legs extended
straight to either side, her hand frozen again. Slackening his
own pace, he heard the moan repeated. Slowly her feet sagged and
the hand came away from her pubes, bearing a thing of gray
plastic, vaguely penis shaped, surprisingly long -- at least
twice the length of Sam's organ, which so far only one other lad
in school had matched. Most of it had been inside her!
Sam rolled up to his knees, reaching for his pants, but his eye
was fixed across the cove. What would she do now? She lay still
for long seconds, legs splayed, vaginal lips closed, exhibiting
now only an undifferentiated mass of wiry dark hair. Then she
sat up completely, calmly pulling the front of her jumper to her
knees, and stared over the water at Sam, presently risen on his
knees, pants suspended from one hand, penis still dripping.
Embarrassment flooded him suddenly. He felt heat on his face and
whirled away from her to step into his pants. He fled to the
path, turning to look back only when he was in the woods.
Through the leaves of a bush he could see her standing now, legs
still astride the keel guide, looking after him. She was bare of
arm and shoulder except for the straps of her jumper. She held
pink panties in one hand, the plastic thing in the other. He
took a sudden breath when he realized that she was smiling.
* * * *
"Mom, what's with the Helmholds?"
Sam had shown up for his lunchtime sandwich and cola. His
mother, sitting at last before her own sandwich, cocked him a
speculative eyebrow and smiled. "I know they have a daughter
your age with them."
"She's a year older," he countered.
"Well, 15, 14, is that so bad? I saw her talking to you at the
picnic. You're about the same size."
"It's the wrong way, Mom. If I was 15 and she was 14, then --
But what do you know about the family?"
"Not much. We've only met them a few times. The girl's mother --
Claire, isn't she, Joe? -- seems nice enough."
Sam's father looked up from his novel. "Nice enough for what?
Talk at the marina this morning was that they've separated."
"Separated?"
"Phil said his wife said Claire told her she came to the lake to
get away from 'that bastard.'"
"John, please!" the woman cautioned, tilting her head toward Sam.
"Sorry, son," the man said insincerely, then shrugged. "I'm just
the reporter."
"The gossip monger, you mean," retorted the women.
He grinned. "That, too."
"She's invited to the canasta game this afternoon." The woman
smiled at the boy. "Stick around if you want to meet her."
His father chuckled. "Especially if you want to see how the
daughter will look in 20 years."
"Joe," demanded the woman indignantly, "are you saying I resemble
my mother of 20 years ago?"
He looked her over appraisingly and leered. "Of course. But
your mother is _still_ a beautiful woman!"
* * * *
Though it meant refusing his dad's coveted offer of fishing from
the boat, Sam made it his business to be on the cabin porch, face
washed and hair freshly combed, as the women began arriving. He
sat with his now mocasined feet up on the rail, his father's
novel -- something by somebody named Kriller, entitled _Sexive_,
which sounded interesting but wasn't -- open as misdirection in
his lap.
Claire Helmhold was in the second car. He watched her come up
the walk: now in a different jumper and a frilly blouse, hose
and low shoes, with reddened upper lips and the wrinkles he had
seen around her eyes smoothed out somehow. Her hair was drawn
back in a large gold clip. She was hippy and busty: a lot of
woman, he saw, with an unexpectedly narrow waist. He looked up
and found her eyes upon his, lingering, though her face betrayed
nothing.
When they were introduced, she smiled graciously and said, "I've
heard of Sam. You seem to be the only interesting young man on
the lake this summer."
To his embarrassment, his mother immediately added, "See, I told
you Gail wasn't so unapproachable."
He managed to shake his head. "I don't think she agrees with her
mother."
The woman laughed, eerily the same contralto tone he had heard
earlier. "What does she know? She's only a kid."
He saw something more than a twinkle in the big brown eyes
staring into his own. Unconsciously he licked his lips. Her
eyes narrowed. She leaned down and patted his hand. "A closer
look might be called for. Do you spend much time by the lake,
Sam?"
Her eyes were direct. They had last locked with his as he was
spurting seminal fluid toward them. He had to gasp, getting a
whiff of her cologne and something else. "Ah, ah ..."
She continued, "But you're not a fisherman, are you?"
His mother rescued him. "Not like his father. Claire Helmhold,
have you met Elly Coggins?"
He remained on the porch when the women went inside. He could
hear their voices through the screened window. Claire's
contralto sounded often, reminding him of her earlier cries. He
felt of himself, reaching up under the book and both sets of
shorts. Though he had been told of bathing with his mother as a
very small boy, Claire's was the first mature female equipment he
could remember seeing. He went over the vision again and again,
imagining the fat lips closing over him instead of her gray toy,
and soon came close to climax. But he restrained himself,
wondering how he could contrive to perform before her again.
She had smiled! With that thought he had to remove his hand and
sit still, panting slightly.
Just in time. An explosion of voices announced the end of a
hand. The screen door swung open and someone heavy emerged
behind him. Busy repositioning the open book, he did not look up
at first. A scented hand with long pink nails fell languidly on
his shoulder. "What are you reading, Sam?"
The contralto and the cologne made the hand's owner unmistakable.
Taking a breath, he turned the book over to expose the opened
pages. "_Sexive_?" she murmured. "And have you found the good
parts?"
She bent further, extending her hand to his lap. He had a
glimpse of pale round skin, swelling almost out of her blouse.
Then her hand grasped the book, fingers sliding between the spine
and Sam's cloth covered but stiff erection. It seemed that she
fumbled the book just a bit before lifting it. The backs of her
fingers pressed his turgid flesh firmly. She laughed throatily
and murmured, "Perhaps you _have_ found them!"
A moment later she added, "No, this passage is just another of
Kriller's polemics against Capitalism." She chuckled and asked
very quietly, "Are you truly reading, Sam, or just thinking about
me?"
He turned his head up with a start. Her face was just above his
own. Her heavy makeup was obvious at this distance, but he
hardly noticed. Her eyes were twinkling, reddened lips turned up
in a quirky smile. She formed a kiss with her lips and
whispered, so low he barely heard her above the whistling birds
and voices floating through the screen, "Come to the back window
just after it gets full dark."
He opened his mouth to ask _whose_ back window, but she laughed
merrily. "Here, try this part. I think it better suits a young
man." She took his hand and closed the book over his forefinger
before raising up and turning away to another pair of women
seeking the fresh air.
"What's he reading, Claire?"
He heard her chuckle. "I'm not the kind who kisses and tells.
Do you recommend Martha's punch?"
They retreated into the cabin. He looked curiously at the
passage under his finger and read, "I stood over her, still
pumping, my feet in her armpits, spunk falling onto her forehead,
her nose, her cheeks, into her eyes and her slurping mouth. She
blinked rapidly, thrusting out a greedy tongue, demanding more ..."
* * * *
_The_ back window? The Helmhold cabin sported _three_ back
windows! At late dusk he positioned himself in the woods where,
by shifting his head from one leafy gap to the next, he could
watch all three. The rooms inside all were dark, however, though
he could hear unintelligible feminine voices from the other side
of the house, apparently the porch.
At almost full dark, when the stars were beginning to appear
above his bush, lights flashed over the trees and a car
approached on the gravel drive toward the building. It stopped,
motor idling. Louder voices arose. He distinctly hear a
contralto declaration: "I remind you, Edward, her curfew is
midnight!" A door slammed immediately afterwards and the car
roared away, taking its noise and light.
So Gail was dating Edward Long, 16 and the greatly envied
possessor of a limited driving license! Sam gritted his teeth.
After it turned onto the paved highway and sped up around the
curve, the car noise faded away. The night was very quiet. The
birds had settled down, even the geese on the lake. Only a few
crickets chirped. He heard a thump, then another: footsteps
within the building. He straightened up attentively.
Bright light shone suddenly in the left-most window, revealing
the woman standing at the door, her hand on the wall switch.
Again she was wearing only the blouse-less brown jumper. She
regarded the window speculatively a moment before crossing the
room, throwing her face into shadow. At the window her hand did
something with an audible snap. She had unhooked the screen! A
moment later the observer saw a line of light between its frame
and the sill: she had partly pushed it out. She turned back
toward the wall. The room was plunged into darkness.
He slipped through the bushes in a rush, pausing before the
window. "Ms. Helmhold!" he called in a loud whisper.
He heard a thrilling contralto chuckle followed by words spoken
normally, though perhaps softer than everyday. "So you did come!
I wondered if you would."
"I had to," he said simply.
Again she chuckled. "I know you did." In the starlight,
brighter here away from the trees, he saw the window screen swing
out above him. She continued, "See those cinder blocks? I piled
them there this afternoon. Think you can climb them?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am!"
"Then come on in. And tonight call me Claire."
She took him under the arms and with surprising strength helped
him over the sill. For a moment he stood close enough for his
chest to touch the projection of one of her breasts. The odor of
flowers that he had smelled on her hand was much stronger,
underlain by the musty smell of a cabin unused most of the year.
"Sit beside me on the bed," she suggested, guiding his arm. They
sat on the edge of a soft bed, hips and outer thighs in contact,
her arm behind him. He was very conscious of her breast pressing
his arm to his side. "We could sit on the deck under the stars,"
she continued, "but for the mosquitoes. I hope you weren't in
the woods long enough for them to find you."
"They hardly ever bother me," he said.
"Lucky you! They bit my friend the other day so bad that blood
ran down her legs -- through her hose, at that! Of course it was
a cloudy day... Sam -- may I call you that?"
"It's my name."
"I want to talk to you about ... about what happened this
morning."
He took a breath but otherwise held still, hands crossed in his
lap. After a moment she said, "Why did you pick that spot?"
"Because it's out of sight of all the cabins. And I could hear
anybody coming."
"And the sun shines right on you there. Aren't you afraid of
sunburn?"
He thought about it. "It never lasts that long."
She chuckled. "I guess not. Do you often come there?"
"We've only been here a week. It was my third time."
"Did you ... please yourself the other times, too?"
He hesitated, at last admitting, "Yes. It's a good place for
it. Was."
"'Was,'" she echoed. "Oh, I believe it still is. What do you
think about when you do yourself?"
"Bringing a girl there."
She chuckled. "Why not in her bedroom, away from the mosquitoes
and sunburn?"
"Because her mother might hear us. As to that, you could've got
sunburned just as easy as me."
"What? I was in the boat house."
"But its roof is full of holes. The sun was shining right on ..."
"Really? Right on my cunny?"
He cast his eyes around at her. She was a gray shadow beside
him, notable more for a feeling of warmth and moisture than
sight, but he was able to pick out the glitter of her eyes. "And
on your hand. And that ... gray thing."
"It's called a vibrator."
"A what?"
"The lonely woman's consolation."
"You were using it to ..."
"Say whatever you wish, Sam."
He took a breath. "You were fucking yourself with it."
"And what did you think of that?" Her voice sounded amused.
"I wished ..." His voice fell almost to a whisper. "That it was
me."
She sniffed, but her arm tightened around his back. "I know you
did, Sam. I wished it was you, too."
"You did?"
"But I want to ask you ... I was there before you. You can be
sure I checked the far bank before I lay back! When you saw me
there, why did you just go ahead and not leave?"
"Saw you? I never saw you. Maybe the sunbeam moved to you while
I was ... doing it."
"Or maybe I moved to get more comfortable. That splash, the bird
diving -- that's when you looked up, isn't it, the same as I?"
"Yes."
"But you kept on jacking."
"And you kept fucking yourself."
She sighed. "And then you came. Your ejaculation was lovely,
Sam."
He grinned. "'Lovely?'"
"The very first one arced out almost to the water, a long white
streak. If I had felt that it would have driven me wild. In a
way I did feel it. I came, too."
"I heard you."
She shivered slightly and took a deep breath. "And here you are.
Take your clothes off, Sam. I assure you, my mother cannot hear
us."
After removing his sneakers, he stood up and pulled off the
remainder. A rustle beside him and a touching of elbows
suggested that she was doing the same. A different odor entered
his nostrils, musky, faintly similar to frying bacon. His mouth
watered.
Her hand ran from his shoulder, down his arm to his own hand,
which she drew to her breast, or so he surmised from the fleshy
softness and the lumpiness in his palm. Daring, he ran his other
hand down her smooth torso to the lush pubic hair and found the
fat lips that had so fascinated him in the morning.
"Just a little higher, Sam."
A lump? Ah yes, the clitoris. She twitched as he rubbed it. He
gasped as her hand closed on his painfully hard erection.
"I know how to treat a very young man," she said.
For a moment he didn't understand what she meant to do, until an
evocative warm wetness with a hint of something hard and sharp
behind it replaced the hand on his organ. Then it dawned on him:
she was sucking his dick! Suddenly he was possessed of an
overwhelming lasciviousness. His juices seemed to boil.
"I'm ab-about to come," he stuttered.
She released him momentarily to say, "Of course."
"C-can I watch?"
She chuckled, releasing him again. "I wouldn't mind, except
these windows have no curtains."
"There's nobody else in the woods. I checked."
"Yes, I suppose you did. All right." He heard a bare footstep.
With a click the overhead bulb relit. His eyes widened on the
expanse of very female flesh that stood beside the door. His
mouth fell open. Her eyes twinkled. "Your first naked woman,
Sam?"
"In playboy ... But you're real!"
"I sure am."
She came to him and dropped to her knees, apparently the position
she had just quit. She took his scrotum in one hand and looked
up at him. "You have a nice cock, Sam."
"It's not as big as some," he found himself saying.
"Don't let any of your friends tell you it's too little," she
advised. "It's plenty big enough. Do you know how far back in a
cunny the womb sits?"
"N-no."
She grasped his organ about half-way back from the glans and
tilted it up toward his face. "About that far, and that's as
much as any man really needs."
"Oh. Are you sure?"
She laughed. "Don't you think I ought to be sure?"
"B-but ..."
"Go ahead, Sam. You can say anything to me."
"Then is that as far as it can go _in_?"
She smiled in amusement. "We'll test that in a few minutes.
Just now we must take care of your urgent problem. Lean back a
little. Watching cuts both ways, you know. You want to watch
what my face does to you and I want to watch what I do to your
face."
He failed to appreciate that point but obeyed her anyway as her
mouth first enclosed his crimson head -- what an indescribable
thrill! -- then slid slowly down his shaft. Other sensations
impacted the glans: the parting of flesh along with increasing
compression, whose cause was evident from the hollows forming in
her cheeks, but mostly a wet roughness against the sensitive
underside, apparently her tongue. Or the rear of it. Further
and further down the shaft she slid until her nose was buried in
his hair. But her eyes rolled back enough to keep contact with
his.
His dick was gone! Her plump lips had even included the fringes
of hair. With a helpless groan he felt the first spurt of semen
escaped him. Her eyes widened briefly, then twinkled, still
locked on his. Most of the pressure departed as she withdrew an
inch or two, curling her lips away from contact, though still
touching lightly with palate and tongue. A second groan and
squirt followed the first, then a third. He heard wet drops
falling on the hardwood floor and looking down, saw white bubbles
escape her mouth on both sides of his organ.
His knees weakened and with a longer groan he fell backward onto
the bed. She let him go but rose to her feet to stand over him.
When his vision steadied, he saw her watching him with a fond
smile and a wet chin from which a white string dangled between
her breasts. One of her hands was tucked between her legs.
"Your first blow job, Sammy?" she asked tenderly.
"Yes!" he managed to gasp.
"No need to ask if you liked it, is there?"
He felt a perverted fascination. "How does it taste?"
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I can't believe you never tasted
it."
"I mean, how does it taste to you?"
She chuckled. "You want to know if I like it. The answer is,
yes, but not for the taste. Do you understand, Sammy?"
He nodded slowly.
"Good. Then I want you to do something for me, also not for the
taste." She sniffed. "Though my husband once claimed to like
it." She put a knee on the bed, from there rolling onto her back
beside him. Immediately he raised on an elbow, turned partly
upon her, grasped her large, mature breasts, one in each hand,
and bent to suck an erect nipple whose areola was nearly wide as
his face.
Smiling, she let him proceed for several seconds before
suggesting, "That's not what I meant, Sam."
He raised up. "What, then?"
She spread her legs wide apart, one passing under his body.
"Haven't you heard, Sammy, that girls like oral sex, too?"
For a moment he seemed puzzled.
She frowned. "Don't they teach anything in sex-ed these days?"
He nodded. "They show a cartoon of a dick in a pussy. In
Hygiene."
She snorted. "'Hygiene!' This is no cartoon, Sam. It needs
your tongue right where you found that lump a little while ago."
"Oh." Willingly he crawled down her body and knelt between her
legs. Her odor was powerful, a combination of many things
obviously including urine. Though it was repulsive, he had heard
many rave of this bouquet and pushed ahead, pressing his tongue
between the fat lips and finding the lump, now perhaps larger
than it had seemed earlier.
"That's the spot, Sammy. Spread your tongue wider. Lick it, not
too hard at first. When I start to feel it, lick harder."
He obeyed, noting first a diminishment in the disagreeableness of
the odor. To his surprise it began to remind him faintly of
vanilla. When would she start to feel it?
"You never did this before, did you, Sammy?"
He shook his head without withdrawing. He wanted to say, so I'm
not very good but I can learn.
As if she heard him, she added, "But it's all right. It's
feeling good, and if you keep coming to see me, I'll show you how
to do it best. Wouldn't you like to put in a few fingers, too?"
A few what? He almost froze with surprise.
She chuckled deep in her throat. "Too bad they can't make a man
with a cock for a chin."
The mental image of that made him laugh, which made him choke.
He raised up, coughing and covering his wet mouth. When he had
recovered, she took his hand in both of hers and formed all four
fingers into a close parallel bunch. "Like this, Sammy. Pretend
they're an extension of your chin."
He studied her for a moment before resuming. She was very wet
now, drooling slightly onto the bedcover. His bunched fingers
parted the fat lips, offering a glimpse of the glittering crimson
interior.
"Go ahead, Sammy," she urged, turning her mound a bit higher.
He plunged his fingers into her, up to the knuckles, and bent to
lift the clitoris with his tongue.
"In and out," she directed. A moment later her hips began to
twist up and down as he imagined they might during intercourse.
"Oh, good, Sammy! _Now_ you can lick hard!"
Her flavor now was almost sweet. He drove his tongue against her
mercilessly. Her cool thighs closed suddenly on his head and her
hips plunged violently. Dimly he could hear unintelligible
sounds from her. Her body went suddenly rigid as his tongue
lashed her at his maximum speed.
Roughly her hands caught his head and forced him away. "Oh, my
god!" she cried, panting and twisting her whole body. Her legs
separated so far that her hips creaked. Her eyes glared at him.
She gasped, "What in the world are you waiting for?"
She must mean ... He crawled up her body and penetrated her
effortlessly and completely. She grunted as he fell upon her
breasts but caught him around the shoulders and pulled him down
the harder. Her legs rose up and clasped his hips. "Oh, yes!"
she cried. "Oh, god, I've waited for you, Sammy!" Her hips
rolled to match the rhythm of his thrusts. To his surprise
something inside her gripped him.
So this was sex! Nothing he had ever heard prepared him for the
thrill of it. No other pleasure of his experience was even in
the same league. His whole body tingled. The woman's limbs
closed tighter. She was still making sounds, soft contralto
screams, no longer meaningful. She felt like a furnace beneath
him. His hands, which had born a little of his weight, went to
clasp her buttocks instead. He drove into her deeply and
strongly as he could.
And climaxed again, far sooner than he had ever before achieved a
second orgasm. His ejaculation evoked a louder scream from her
and a sudden relaxation, even before he had quit spurting. To
him it seemed that she had become warm mush. The grip of arms,
legs and sphincters vanished.
He spread his hands beside her and raised up slightly, studying
her in concern. Her chest heaved beneath him as she gasped for
breath, but shortly her eyes fluttered open.
"Are you okay ... Claire?" he asked, daring to use her name for
the first time.
Her hand, fallen lax at her side, came up and caressed the back
of his head. She smiled dreamily. "Yes, sweet Sammy, thanks to
you."
She heaved a great sigh and stretched under him, hands colliding
with the head board of the bed. When she relaxed, she grinned at
him. "Your first fuck, Sammy?"
He nodded dumbly.
"What did you think?"
"It was great."
"'Great!'" she repeated scornfully but smiled to remove the
string. "It was heaven and you know it!"
He nodded with wide eyes. "It was heaven."
"That was _it_, Sammy. Pleasure doesn't get sharper than that."
He grinned slightly. "I couldn't stand it if it did."
"Well said! None of us could. Now would you mind rolling over?
Your weight is wonderful _before_ I come!"
"I want to do it again."
"Do you think you can?"
"Oh, yes." To demonstrate he thrust within her briefly.
She smiled. "I remember a young man's virility. Sammy, if I let
you have your way, I won't be able to walk for a week. I'll be
pretty sore now, I expect. Do you have any idea how long it's
been since I had a fucking like that? No, of course you don't,
and I shouldn't tell such stories, should I?"
But he was curious. "That's not the way everyone does it?"
"That's the way everyone _wants_ to do it!" She sighed. "I
really hate to ask you, but it would be best if you got off me."
He had no sooner withdrawn and laid beside her than she rose up
from the bed. She went to a closet, took out a robe to wrap
around herself and turned to regard him speculatively. "Would
you like a coke?"
"Oh, I would." He sat up. "I'll help you."
"No. You stay here. People can see into the kitchen from the
road."
He lay back as she went out, pulling the door closed behind her.
He grasped his softening penis between thumb and forefinger,
turning the moist head up toward his face. The thought of where
it had recently been thrilled him and firmed it again: in a
female mouth, then her cunt, into both as far is it could go. He
chuckled, realizing that he had failed to note the maximum depth,
despite his earlier concern. Apparently his wasn't long enough
to plumb either.
He felt good. He felt manly. He had fucked someone: a woman,
too; not a young girl. Unconsciously he threw out his chest,
smiling fatuously. He could imagine the envious faces on Harry
and Cord when he told them, the tale fleshed out with detail
enough to dispel all doubts.
That was his pose, penis in fist, when the woman opened the door
with her foot, a coke bottle in each hand. He straightened up
with a touch of embarrassment. She laughed indulgently. "Proud
of yourself, Sammy? Well, why not?"
She came into the room, kicking the door shut, and resumed her
seat on the bed, handing him one of the bottles. She grinned at
him and held hers up. "I like your choice in drinks, too. You
don't feel bad in the morning."
She regarded him while taking a swig. When she lowered the
bottle, she said, "I know you feel good. I just wish you didn't
have to brag about it, but that's too much to hope for, isn't
it?"
His eyes widened.
She laughed. "Just what you were planning to do, eh?"
"How did you know?"
"I told you: I know all about very young men."
"How? Were you very popular when you went to school?"
"No, not so popular. I know because I raised four younger
brothers. I was mother, sister and good friend to them." She
studied him, adding with a slight smile, "And sometimes their
lover."
"You mean ..."
She shook her head and said dryly, "Apparently I like to brag,
too. Drink up, Sammy, and tell me if you'd like to do this
again."
His eyes enlarged. "Oh, yeah!"
She chuckled. "No doubt about that answer! If you mean that,
then you have a reason not to brag, at least as long as you and I
stay at the lake. Surely you see that if you brag, word will get
around." She chuckled nervously. "I might even get arrested."
"Arrested?"
"Like that schoolteacher in the Midwest who let a fourteen year
old impregnate her, then foolishly admitted he was the father.
It's called statutory rape."
"Because I'm under 16?"
"Exactly."
"But ... But, Claire ..."
"I know, but you've got to remember that the law doesn't care
about our feelings. So if you brag and I get arrested, we won't
be allowed together again."
He declared solemnly, "I'll never do _anything_ to get you in
trouble."
"That's a sweet promise. What's your curfew?"
He shrugged. "I don't have one this year, but I'm not supposed
to stay out all night without permission."
"But you could sneak out, couldn't you?"
He grinned. "It's easy -- if I get back before breakfast."
She nodded. "My brothers enjoyed that, too. How long will you
be here at the lake?"
"Almost two more weeks."
"Only two weeks?"
"How about you?"
"Oh, Gail and I'll be here the rest of the summer. Do you enjoy
chores, Sam?"
"No!"
She chuckled. "I suppose not. But think about this. I don't
have a man around here and several things need mending. Would
you be willing to come and work on them once in a while" -- she
leered at him -- "except when Gail is off with her friends?"
He studied her over his coke bottle. When he took it down he was
grinning. "I sure would!"
"I'll even pay you a little money. You know, if we do things
right, if you act businesslike around your parents, they might
let you stay with me after they leave, at least for a while.
What would you say to that?"
"Oh, wow!"
She nodded, grinning. "That's what I hoped you'd say."
"They'll think I'm after Gail."
She shook her head. "You can try, but I'm afraid my daughter is
the original prissy little -- There I go again. She does take
after her father, that son of a bitch!" She added thoughtfully,
cocking her head, "Still, I could get her to accept you if you
really wanted it."
He knew the answer to that one. "I want you."
She pulled him against her and kissed his nose. "You're a smart
lad, Sammy." Her hand fell to his half-flaccid organ. "And I
intend to teach this pretty thing how to make a woman _faint_
with pleasure."
"Wow!" he said again, reaching into her robe for a swinging
breast. Concurrently her hand slipped between his legs and
gently rolled the lumps in his scrotum. He flinched.
"Does this hurt, Sammy?"
"Almost."
"Good answer. I'll show you how to get the most from them, too.
I can make you come twice without loosing the feeling."
"You can?"
She sighed. "When I get through with you, you'll make some lucky
girl a very fine lover, though I regret to say that only we older
women are likely to appreciate you."
"You're not old!"
She smiled. "Yes, I am, dear, but thank you for denying it."
"What about your husband, Claire?"
"Forget him. He and I are separated. I'm staying here out of
his way until I can get a divorce."
He looked at her wonderingly. "How could he not love you?"
Her face brightened and she hugged him again. "You precious
lad!" She kissed him fully for the first time. Tentatively he
put out his tongue. She chuckled and sucked it into her mouth.
He had done this once with a girl in his class. Now with a few
strokes the woman showed him how tongues could tease each other
with stimulating effect.
But her mouth soon enclosed his other head. He lay back,
watching her face bob and her lips conform to his shape. When he
warned her that his pleasure was rising, she lay back for her own
turn. He crawled between her legs and bent to her vulva, but her
hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"You don't need to do that this time, Sammy. Besides, it's after
eleven. Come up on me and let's have a good, old-fashioned
standard fuck."
Her use of that word and the keen interest on her face made him
tingle. Soon he was riding her as before.
"Go ahead, Sammy, hold me by the butt."
"Won't I be too heavy?"
"I told you: not as long as I'm coming. And I'm about to start."
He was glad to have his tentative judgment confirmed: the
flushed face, the shivering body, the inarticulate cries, the
thing inside her that gripped him, the stiffening torso, finally
the gasping relaxation only to resume shivering -- indeed she was
_coming_, on and on, over and over.
His own climax, third of the evening, fourth of the day, built
slowly but surely. When it arrived he rolled off her without
being urged and fell beside her, gasping for breath. She pulled
his head onto her sweating breast. Her hand brushed hair off his
forehead while she kissed his eyes and nose.
After awhile she whispered, "It's almost midnight."
He jerked awake and sat up. "G-god, I'm sorry, Claire."
She smiled. "It's all right. But you probably had better go.
Edward's afraid of me. He'll have her home on time.
"Speak to your folks about working for me. Say we talked across
the cove this morning. In a way we did, you know -- the most
important part. But whatever happens, come back here again
tomorrow night just at full dark. Will you do that?"
"Oh, yes, Claire. I'll do anything for you."
"I know you will, you sweet lad." She kissed him again.
He went out the front door after she had turned off all lights in
the house and after a final long kiss while his hands roamed her
lush body under the robe. With his erection pulled high under
his shorts he went skipping happily down the long flight of
wooden steps to the driveway. The starlight was barely enough to
discern the next few steps. Fortunately it was enough to show
him a figure seated near the bottom in time to avoid falling over
it.
"Be careful, you clumsy nerd!" warned a querulous feminine voice.
"Gail?" He paused beside her. "You're home already?"
"No. This is her twin sister waiting for you to quit fucking
Mama."
He reeled away from her into a bush. She chuckled. "I take it
back. You're not a nerd. You're a mother-fucker. And a clumsy
one at that."
"Why ..." He took a breath. "Why didn't you come on up?"
"And interrupt Mama when she's coming off like a string of
firecrackers? She'd kill me."
"How long have you been out here?"
"I don't know. What time is it? According to Eddie's clock it
was 11:18 when he put me out on the drive."
"He did what?"
"We had a fight. I made him put me out down there. He insisted
on fucking me up the ass."
The words actually shocked him. Slowly he sank down beside the
girl on the edge of the step. "He wanted what?"
She chuckled sourly. "You know what I mean. Haven't you fucked
Mama up the ass yet? Well, don't worry, you will."
"I don't think so... I will?"
"And every other way she can think of, and she knows them all.
If you haven't done it yet, it's because she wants to break you
in slowly."
"Gail ... You've been sitting down here for 40 minutes?"
"If it's midnight, I guess so. I heard her when I was walking up
the steps so I went around and looked in that back window. Sure
enough, you were banging the meat into her. If Eddie hadn't
already fucked me twice I might've stayed to watch, but I didn't
want to wet my finger." She slapped her leg. "Damned
mosquitoes!"
"You'd better go on in. She's expecting you."
The girl laughed. "You think that matters? When she told Eddie
about a curfew, I figured she had one waiting in the bushes.
That was _your_ curfew, pal. She's smart enough to set herself a
limit so her young studs won't kill her."
"You mean ..."
"To her a cock is the same as a needle of heroin to a lot of
people."
"Like an ... addiction?"
"Oh, yeah!" The girl laughed harshly. "A - dick - shun! Except
she does everything to one _but_ shun it."
He thought over her words, saying at last in a low tone, "What
you're saying is, I'm not her first ... kid."
"Huh! She's forty years old. She's been fucking kids longer
than _I've_ known her. Young guys hang out at our place in town
all winter, and they're not after me."
"Why not?"
She grunted. "I'm not into mother-fuckers."
Again he thought for awhile. "Why are you telling me all this,
Gail?"
"I don't know." Suddenly the girl stood up. "In fact, Mama and
I hate each other as much as we love each other, but I don't want
to change anything. She lets me fuck who I want to. Of course,
if she was gone I could still fuck anybody I wanted to. Maybe I
hope you'll go to the cops and holler rape."
"Good god, Gail!"
"Hey, that's good! The three Gs: 'Good god, Gail!'"
He leaned close and sniffed her. He smelled the trace of ammonia
and was a moment remembering what it meant.
"You can't smell anything," she asserted. "I'm on a snort."
An idea occurred to him. "Does she have another kid seeing her
_here_?"
"No. I don't think so. We've only been here a week so far. But
I think she's trying to snare one. This morning I heard her
screech, 'There he is!' She jumped up and ran down to the lake
with her vibrator, like she was meeting somebody, but she came
back by herself."
He took a deep breath. "I want to keep on seeing her, Gail.
You're not going to ..."
He could barely detect her grin in the starlight. "You can't
tell what I'm going to do. Hell, _I_ can't even tell!"
"You won't mess me up, will you?"
"What's it worth to you?"
He gritted his teeth. "What do you want?"
"Nothing _you've_ got!"
"Yeah. You made that plain the other day."
"Of course ..." The girl paused, then continued thoughtfully,
"you were sure fucking the juice out of her! Maybe I'll take a
sample."
Her hand closed on the front of his shorts. He almost flinched
away. She giggled. "Not tonight, Sam, my man! Eddie has shot
me full at both ends. But if you want to keep your hot cooze,
you'd better make me come when I crook my finger."
He clenched his fists as her laughter receded up the staircase.
END
kellis@dhp.com
Stories Gratis at http://www.dhp.com/files/Authors/kellis/www
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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