by Dee Luscious
First there was Caitlin Cassady. I met her in my sophomore year, and she was my first real girlfriend. We shared our first kiss, held hands, and did all the usual cutesy boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. After a few months, things had gotten really serious and we were talking about taking things to the next level. But then her father took things to the next level with his secretary, and her mother left him and moved out of state, taking Caitlin with her. Caitlin and I tried to stay in touch online, but after a while it fizzled out and Caitlin found another boyfriend. So much for long distance relationships.
Then there was Valerie Walker. She was a busty cheerleader with fiery red hair that I met at a friend's house party. We were both a little drunk and horny as hell. Things were getting pretty hot and heavy, when Valerie decide she was tired of groping and tongue kissing and wanted some real action. We went into the basement for a little privacy, as much privacy as you can get at a party like this anyway, and Valerie got on her knees in front of me and began fumbling with my zipper.
“Wanna see my best trick?” she slurred.
“Yeah!” I slurred back enthusiastically.
I had heard enough locker room talk to know what Valerie's “best trick” was. I was finally going to lose my virginity, and to the hottest cheerleader in high school too! This was going to be awesome!
Just then the three beers, two jungle juices, and four tequila shots that Valerie had drunk, decided they were tired of living in her stomach and would be happier being deposited forcefully on the front of my jeans. After half an hour of unsuccessfully trying to clean off my pants, I left the bathroom to find Valerie asleep on the basement sofa. It was just as well. I wasn't in the mood anymore anyway.
Finally, there was the aforementioned camp out. Skinny dipping with drunk naked girls? How could I not score? But now Mr. Beecher needs his porch painted. More bad luck.
But wait! There might be a way around this! I could do a rush job. Just do basic sanding, slap the primer down quickly, maybe even get away with just one coat of paint. I could be done in a couple of days. The Beecher's probably wouldn't notice, and I could still make the camp out! It could work...
“And don't do a rush job!” my mother called through the kitchen window. “Take your time and do it right. You know how important this is.”
“I will,” I sighed.
“Dinner is almost ready,” she said. “Come inside and help me set the table. Your father will be home any minute.”
I headed inside. I had had enough bad luck for one day. Maybe tomorrow would be better.
***
My heart sank as I pulled into the Beecher's driveway. Their house was big. Playboy mansion big. It looked like something out of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous”. Hell, the garage was larger than my house! And a covered porch ran around the whole damn thing.
There was no way. It's impossible. I couldn't paint this porch in a week. I would be lucky if I got it done in a month! There was no camp out, beer, or skinny dipping girls in my future.
But then my optimism kicked in. That same irrational optimism that made me think I had a chance with Caitlin Cassady, Valerie Walker, and the girls at the lake. I could do this! It was only Monday. The camp out wasn't until the weekend. That gave me five days. If I worked my ass off, I could probably get the whole porch prepped and sanded today. I could lay down the primer coat tomorrow. It was early summer, but it was already hot as hell, so it would dry fast. Then I could start painting. How many coats would it take? Two? Better make it three, just to be safe. I could lay the first coat down on Wednesday, let it dry, do the second on Thursday, the third on Friday, and then get over here early on Saturday to do any final touch ups the Beecher's wanted done. Then I could rush home, get cleaned up, and drive out to the lake. With any luck, I would get there before the party got into full swing.
I hurriedly unpacked the painting supplies from my car and attacked the porch with renewed enthusiasm. The scraping and sanding was slow, sweaty work, but two hours later, I had finished the front and side porch. The day had gone from hot to unbearable, and my tee shirt was soaked with sweat. I pulled it off and stood in the shade of the back porch, catching my breath.
The Beecher's back yard was the size of a football field and their pool looked like it had been ripped right out of a tropical resort. A row of reclining beach chairs, each with its own colorful umbrella, lined the edge of the pool. The pool itself was outfitted with two diving boards, a tube slide, and had a fully stocked bar built into the shallow end! The bright blue water shimmered in the sunlight and I had to resist the urge to strip off my pants and do a cannonball right into the middle of it. The Beechers probably wouldn't appreciate that. Mom and Dad would be even less amused.
I shook my head, and getting down on my hands and knees, began to sand the back porch. There would be plenty of water in the Lake and it would be filled with naked girls, if I could just get this job done in time...
“Well, you must be Michael.”
I looked up, startled. Before me stood a woman in sunglasses and a dazzling white bikini. Long jet black hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her evenly tanned skin sparkled in the sunlight, making her whole body look like it was made of gold. Her bikini top struggled to contain her enormous bulging breasts and the strings from her thong dug into her wide voluptuous hips.
Was this Mrs. Beecher? Damn, the woman was a living breathing MILF!
Suddenly I realized that I hadn't answered her. I was just on my knees, staring.
“Y-yeah, that's me!” I stammered.
Mrs. Beecher lowered her sunglasses to get a better look at me, revealing piercing blue eyes.
“I'm Amanda Beecher,” she said with a smile. “When your mother called and said she was sending her son over to paint the porch, I assumed you would be a boy, not a grown man,” she purred.
“Yeah, I -I guess so,” I replied, aware of how stupid I was sounding, “I just graduated.”
“Oh my,” Mrs. Beecher replied, her smile widening, “You really are a man now, aren't you?”
“My daughter Madison, just graduated too. Do you know her?” she asked.
Oh, I knew Madison Beecher all right. A typical stuck up rich girl who never went anywhere without an entourage of her pathetic friends constantly sucking up to her in the hopes of being invited to one of her extravagant parties. I shared a couple of classes with Madison, but she had never given me so much as a sidelong glance. Madison liked her boys rich or popular, and I was neither.
“Sure, I know Madison,” I lied. “We took Algebra and History together.”
“Really?” Mrs. Beecher replied, raising an eyebrow. “I'm surprised she hasn't mentioned you to me before.”
A sly look came over her face.
“Maybe she wants to keep you all to herself,” she said with a laugh.
I laughed too, weakly. I wasn't sure what else to do.
“Oh look at me!” she said suddenly, “You're trying to work and here I am wasting your time with idle chit-chat. I'm such a naughty girl sometimes.”
“It-it's no problem, really!” I blurted out.
“Don't get too hot, Michael,” she said, flashing me a grin and raising her sunglasses.
“...working, I mean.”
I didn't answer. I was still kneeling on the porch, watching mesmerized, as Mrs. Beecher sauntered toward the pool. Her full broad hips swung from side to side like a pendulum, and the flimsy white triangle that made up her thong did little to conceal her perfectly sculpted bubble butt. Her ample ass cheeks gleamed in the sunlight like two golden globes, jiggling hypnotically with every step she took. Mrs. Beecher glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled. I quickly looked down, but it was too late. I knew she had seen me staring at her.
That was when I noticed the bulge in the front of my pants. I was having a raging erection! My balls were on fire and my dick was so hard I could have pounded nails with it! How long had it been like that? Had Mrs. Beecher seen it? Damn!
I shot a fur
tive look at the pool and froze. Mrs. Beecher was lying on her stomach on a reclining beach chair. She was topless. Her bikini top lay in a bright white pile on the ground next to her. Her head was turned toward me and her lips were curled into a bemused smile. She was still wearing her sunglasses, making it impossible to tell whether she was looking at me or not. I could see the side of her bare breast, bulging out from beneath her.
My cock surged, and for a heart-stopping second I thought I was going to cum in my pants, but I didn't. Quickly looking away, I gathered up my tools and hurried around the corner of the house. Maybe it was a good idea to sand the other side porch first. I could always finish the back porch later. Tomorrow, even. There was still plenty of time...
***
I felt nervous and even a little excited as I pulled into the Beecher's driveway the next morning. I rounded the corner of the house with my painting supplies, wondering what might be waiting for me in the back. But nothing was waiting for me. The back yard was empty. I sighed, unsure if I was disappointed or relieved.
But there was no time to think about it. Today was going to be a real scorcher. I could tell. It wasn't even noon yet, and already the heat waves were rippling up from the driveway. Time to get to work.
The sun was still high in the sky when I decided to take a breather in the shade of the Beecher's back porch. I sat down heavily on the steps leading to the back yard and looked at my watch. Three hours had passed, but the rest of the sanding had been finished and I had already laid the primer coat down on the front and side porches. I was back on schedule.
The air was hot and still. My gaze wandered aimlessly from the placid pool to the row of empty beach chairs. My encounter with Mrs. Beecher yesterday felt strangely unreal, more like a wet dream than something that had actually happened. But had it really happened that way? Her voice turning low and seductive when she talked about me being a grown man? The naughty double entendres dripping from every sentence? That sexy way she walked to the pool? Had Mrs. Beecher tried to seduce me? Or was it all just an out of control MILF fantasy from the overactive imagination of a horny 19 year old?
The sliding glass doors rumbled open behind me, jarring me from my thoughts. I felt a wave of cool, air conditioned air wash over me.
“Oh, there you are,” said a familiar voice.
I turned quickly to see Mrs. Beecher standing in the open doorway. She was wrapped in what appeared to be a silky red bathrobe. I shot a quick glance at my crotch to make sure there weren't any unexpected bulges before getting to my feet.
“Hello, Mrs. Beecher,” I said, feeling my heart beating a little faster.
“You're looking very hot today, Michael,” she said, her voice taking on a low, sultry tone.
My breath caught in my throat and for a minute I struggled to answer.
“I-I do?” I managed to croak.
“Yes,” she replied, ignoring my awkwardness, “you've been working so hard and it's so frightfully hot out today. I would feel just terrible if you came down with heatstroke. Why don't you come inside for a while and cool off?”
“In-in the house?” I stammered, a little incredulously. The thought of me entering the Beecher's house seemed almost as forbidden as the other thoughts that had been swirling inside my head.
“Well, of course,” she laughed, “Where else would I be talking about?”
“Oh, yeah...” I answered, sheepishly.
Mrs. Beecher turned and went into the house and I followed her, stopping in the doorway to check the bottoms of my shoes for wet primer.
“It's alright, Michael,” she said, laughing as she handed me a tall glass of ice water. “This isn't a museum, you know.”
She could have fooled me. The massive rooms filled with expensive art with shiny tile floors made the place look more like a museum than a house. I sat down cautiously on an overstuffed chair, trying not to bump against any of the expensive looking knickknacks that sat on the end table next to me. Mrs. Beecher settled down in a nearby chair and watched me with the hint of a smile pursed on her lips. I finished my drink quickly and got up to leave.
“Could you do something for me, Michael?” Amanda asked suddenly.
“S-sure” I replied uncertainly.
“The light has gone out in my bathroom and I need to take a shower. I would change the bulb myself, but these ceilings are so beastly high that I can't reach it without a ladder and I don't dare try to climb that rickety thing by myself. Would you be a dear and change it for me? You seem so... capable.”
“I would be happy to,” I said brightly.
Changing a light bulb wouldn't take long and it might even earn Dad some points with Mr. Beecher.
“You're a life saver!” Mrs. Beecher exclaimed. “Follow me, and I'll show you where it is.”
I followed her up a carpeted stairway, trying not to notice how tightly her robe clung to her ample ass. She led me through a spacious bedroom with a large brass bed, and into a bathroom with a high vaulted ceiling. A tall aluminum step ladder stood beneath a burned out lamp. A new bulb sat on a marble washbowl. Mrs. Beecher held the ladder steady as I climbed the stairs.
“Mmm...” I heard Mrs. Beecher purr as I reached the top of the ladder.
I glanced down and saw Amanda looking up at me with an amused smile on her face. With a shock, I suddenly remembered that I wasn't wearing underpants and that I had on loose shorts. Mrs. Beecher was looking up the leg of my pants and could see everything! I felt my face turning red as I fumbled to get the burned out bulb out of the lamp. To make matters worse, the excitement was making me hard and I could feel my dick crawling up my stomach!
I somehow managed to get the burned bulb out and Amanda handed me a new one. I took it, hoping she didn't notice the tent forming in the front of my pants. I replaced the bulb and hurriedly made my way down the ladder. But Mrs. Beecher had placed her hand on the rung of the ladder so that my erection would slide down her hand as I descended. I felt my dick grow another inch as it touched her hand.
“Do I make you horny, Michael?” Amanda asked.
I couldn't answer. I just swallowed hard and nodded.
“Would you like to take your clothes off for me?” she asked.
I didn't respond. I stood there like a statue, my heart pounding in my ears.
“If you take off your clothes, I'll take off my robe,” Mrs. Beecher said, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
I took off my T-shirt and shorts and stood naked in front of her, my cock hard as a flagpole.
Mrs. Beecher licked her lips and smiled. She slowly unfastened her robe and let it fall into the empty tub behind her. She leaned forward a little, letting her enormous breasts dangle in front of her, her nipples already hard. She spread her legs to reveal her glistening pussy in all its glory.
“Do I make you want to touch yourself, Michael?” she asked.
“Y-yes,” I stammered, “Very much!”
I grabbed my raging cock and began to pull it gently. A surge of pleasure raced through my body. My ball were aching for relief. I began stroking faster. I closed my eyes and moaned as I felt the orgasm approaching.
“It's making me hot to see you so horny for me,” she said, her voice low and husky. “I want you to cum in front of me, Michael. I want you to spray your seed all over the floor. Do it now, Michael! I want to see how nicely you can spray!”
My cock bucked in my hands as jets of semen burst from my swollen tip. I had never come that hard before! My ejaculation sprayed on the bathroom floor in long white streaks. A final jerk from my penis sent a spurt of cum flying through the air and splattered on Mrs. Beecher's breast. Amanda took her mammoth breast in one hand and lifting it to her lips, licked up my seed with her tongue.
“Tasty,” she said with a malicious smile.
She stood up and kissed me, taking hold of my flaccid penis. She looked me straight in the eyes as she gently began stroking my cock. I could feel my dick hardening in her hand.
“Let's go to the bedr
oom,” she said.
I followed her, my cock still in her hand.
When we got into her room, she pushed me back onto the bed. She climbed on top of me and began kissing my neck, then my chest, and then took one of my nipples in her mouth. She bit it gently and my erection began throbbing. She slowly worked her way down my torso until she reached my dick, which was rock hard on my stomach. She let her tongue run down the length of my shaft and took my balls I her mouth. Then she licked the insides of my thighs, moving down my legs, and finally began sucking on my toes. I felt a thrill race through my body and I began to masturbate. But Amanda grabbed my hands, pulling them away from my cock.
“Not yet, Michael,” she said, “I want it somewhere else. Just hold on for now.”
She climbed back to the head of the bed and knelt over me, placing her legs on either side of my head. She slowly lowered herself until her pussy was mere inches from my face.
“Taste me, Michael,” she said breathlessly. “I want to feel your tongue inside of me!”
Mrs. Beecher moaned as my tongue explored the wet folds of her clitoris. I felt her legs clench around my head as I thrust my tongue inside her.
“That's it, Michael!” she cried. “Keep licking! I'm going to cum!”
Wet warmth filled my mouth as her fluids began streaming from her cunt. I licked them up frantically as I felt the orgasm rock her body.
“That's enough,” she gasped as she rolled off and collapsed on the bed beside me. “I want you to fuck me, Michael. I want you to fuck me hard!”
She spread her legs and I lined up my pulsating cock with her sopping pussy. This is it! I was going to put my dick in a real cunt! I had wanted to lose my virginity, but I had never dreamed I would be losing it to my Dad's boss's wife!
Mrs. Beecher moaned in ecstasy as I plunged my full length into her waiting pussy.
“Oh Michael,” she groaned, “you're stretching me wider than the Grand Canyon!”