In the long mirror, I watched as Brad piled his long cock into Kurt’s firm, round ass, while Kurt’s blond tuft of hair bobbed between my tensing thighs. Brad’s hips slammed into Kurt’s buttocks and his hands slipped around to stroke Kurt’s hard, flexing abs.
His fingers drew lines along Kurt’s rippling muscles, drawing little gasps and sighs from them both. Each time the tension grew in Kurt, his hands moved wider over my thighs, under my buttocks, along the length of my folds and my soaking slit, and his tongue reached deeper into me, pulling gasps and moans from my own stretched and flexing throat.
Brad’s hand slipped farther down, and took a hold of Kurt’s cock, stroking its head, rubbing the shaft, caressing the balls. Kurt moaned loudly into my hot puss, and the tingling vibration gave me another wave. I seized his hair, and clamped his head into me, his lips onto me, his tongue inside me as hard as I could.
As Kurt moaned and writhed, I thought of Brad’s long, bent dick, reaming and steaming into Kurt’s soft, pink little virgin ass. And I thought about how that long, bent dick would feel if it plunged into my deep, wet crevasse. How that curve would press up inside me. It couldn’t be better than Kurt’s eager, nimble, wet tongue, but it would be different.
Kurt’s moan became a low, steady, keening groan. He stared up from between my thighs, and across my billowing breasts and Brad let out an, “OH!”
And I said, “Kurt, yes, Kurt.”
And Brad shouted, “Yes, Kurt, go on, Kurt,” as he began to shake, starting the tremble that would swell into a risking peak.
Kurt began to come, too, and I felt the steady shake of a volcano, starting where Kurt’s mouth was mashed into my throbbing sex, and pulsing out, deeper and wider, and flashing and splashing through me, and we all came. I shook and I tingled in buckets and waves, as the charge shot through me and through me. And we came and we came.
Brad and Kurt fell on me, and took a breast apiece for comforters, and we lay together, in the steamy afternoon funk.
While Kurt went to the kitchen to get us all some cooling drinks, Brad’s eyes took a good long look over my body. With soft towels, oil and moisturizer, we stroked each other.
The way he tended and appreciated my body brought up sensations that were like distant echoes. We wiped and pampered each other. He said, “You’ve got a pretty hot body, Mrs. Harper.”
I said, “You’re quite the hottie yourself, Brad.” His fingers were idling on my thigh, and my nipples were waking up. I reached down to see how that bendy cock was doing. It started to come alive as soon as my hand got near. He looked in my eyes, and the tips of our tongues met. His hand became more purposeful on my thigh, traced the top, stroked its way to the back.
My hips rose to get more of him. His cock was lying along my soft inner thigh, and lengthening toward my puss. I lifted my leg, and our tongues worked together. Or lips drew closer, and our breath panted into each other.
I stroked his long cock, and it became harder still. Our mouths closed on each other’s and my hand drew the head of Brad’s cock to the edge of my wetness and heat. I parted my legs wider, and put my hands on his ass to pull him closer. The tip of him was pushing into my lips now, and I gasped, then moaned as he pressed the length of it into me.
His hands circled my breasts, coaxing and teasing and he rose to his knees, my wide-open legs and ass between his thighs. Slowly, he drove into me and the further he sat up, the more his cock rubbed near my g-spot. I grabbed his face and pulled his hair and pressed down onto him, sucking, pulling him in as far as I could. He slowed, and I moaned.
I saw Kurt by the door, drinks in hand, looking a little lost. I said, “Kurt, don’t be left out,” and Brad said, “Come on, guy.”
I waved my arm to him. Hesitantly he came near, but his fat cock was pointing toward me, and plainly enthusiastic. My hand reached up for it, half erect and so lovely, and I brought it tenderly to my lips, brought its purple shiny head into my mouth as Brad sweetly fucked me.
As soon as my lips closed around Kurt’s shaft, everything sped up. Kurt was looking from me to Brad, and when I enclosed his cock in my lips, ran my tongue along the bottom of it, slipped my warm, wet welcome along his stiffening shaft, his eyes rolled and he let out a long sigh.
He swelled and his precum tasted slick, dark, and delicious trickling toward my throat. My pussy sucked hungrily on the ridges of Brad’s firm, pulsing prick as it fucked me, deeper, deeper, and harder. My breasts bounced and Kurt reached down to them. I hugged Kurt to me, tight in my arms, and I wrapped Brad between my tightening, quivering thighs.
We all were going for it. Kurt stuck his cock in my mouth as far and as hard as he could, as far as I could take it. I sucked greedily on it, and as it filled my mouth, Brad filled my wet, thundering pussy.
Brad held my ass in his hands and he slid that long, hard shaft into me and up me, slamming shockwaves of sensation from deep down inside me, to ripple and rush all over and through me. My throat strained and my chest burned, my nipples stung. Kurt tensed and pushed his cock harder into my wet, hungry mouth as the shaft pumped hot, sweet, sticky cum into my throat.
As Kurt moaned and sighed and came into my mouth, Brad slammed all the way up to his balls into my puss. Brad hosed hot jizz into me, until it oozed and dribbled out with my juices onto his hips and mine. Brad moaned, and I shouted, my mouth still jammed with Kurt’s cock.
We all came and hugged, and squeezed and shouted and squirted until we emptied ourselves all over each other.
Later, Kurt said, “I still didn’t finish the pool, Mrs. Harper.”
And Brad said, “That’s partly my fault. Maybe I should come back and help you with it tomorrow.”
Chapter 2
OYS, MEN IN THEIR TWENTIES, around that age, they seemed to be on a cusp. Transitioning. Not from boys to men, not quite. Still both. Dangerous and innocent, at the same time. In a way, it seemed to reflect how I felt myself.
I never discussed my newfound appetite with any of my friends. Partly, I guess I was afraid that they might judge me but, in the end, I didn’t really care if they did.
There was no way I was going to lure or coerce anybody into anything. Kurt and Brad knew what they were doing. But for me, helping to bring them together, that did seem like a gift.
No, my adventures were taking me somewhere. Somewhere new. In myself, as much as anything. I hadn’t ever experienced such simple, uncomplicated relationships before.
Or, truly, anything with quite that same charge as I got seeing the look on Kurt’s face when he was intimately bound to me, and at the same time, Brad reamed him mercilessly. The storm of emotion that gathered and then rained, that was unlike anything I had ever felt before.
Kurt told me that he kept in touch with Brad, although I didn’t see too much more of him. I would have been happy to, but it was okay.
I ran into the two of them in a coffee bar. They both admitted to me that they had played up their inexperience.
“Just a little, maybe,” Kurt said with that shy look. “Not to try and trick you. It was just, I don’t know, it was fun. It made it more exciting.”
Brad nodded. “It was hot.” Oh, that grin. My God, if you could bottle that, every woman in the world would want to bathe in it and they wouldn’t care what they had to pay.
All that summer, Kurt thrilled me with tales of their adventures, together and separately, and whenever they had plans, he told me those, too. They were often planning gatherings; pool parties, warehouse weekend dance events—Brad soon became quite the local promoter— and Kurt always hinted that I might like to ’come along.’
If I said I wasn’t tempted, I wouldn’t really be telling the truth. More than tempted, really. One hot, sultry weekend in particular, I remember lying in the dark, under fine cotton sheets, thinking about what the boys would be getting up to. Imagining it. Very specifically and in detail.
The images played in my mind like shadows on the wall and they chased any chance of sleep far away.
>
Yes, often I wished I had been there with them. But I knew that was not my path.
Matt was a big, shy, brown-haired, hazel-eyed hunk, barely contained in a white t-shirt and faded jeans. I noticed his graceful walk in the mall when a group of young girls’ heads turned to watch him pass.
They watched his luscious ass, and I loved the open, easy smile that he spread when he spotted me watching him. I asked if he would help me carry my shopping home and put it away, and he very kindly agreed, so I gave him the tiny Victoria’s Secret bag to carry and he followed me like a lamb.
As he slipped into my car, he said, “Is this all of your shopping, Mrs. Harper?”
“Should I get more, Matt?” He smiled and opened the bag to look at the flimsy little pink panties. His eyes travelled up my thighs and made them quiver.
A jolt of anticipation shot through me as he looked in my eyes and said, “No, Mrs. Harper. I don’t guess you need much more.” And he watched me as I drove, his eyes on the rise of my stomach, my thighs as I worked the pedals, my breasts–they usually do get themselves noticed. From the corner of my eye, I noticed that he watched my long neck and my eyes, too, as I swept my hair away. And he watched my mouth. I wet my lips.
Back at the house, as we got out of the car, the TV antenna guy I’d met the day before was working on the roof of the house next door. I saw Matt’s eyes widen as he caught sight of him. That gave me all kinds of thrilling and hugely inappropriate ideas. Inside, I settled Matt on the sunny patio with a cold drink and said, “I never really know if lingerie like that is going to suit me.”
He gulped and looked me up and down. For all my years, I don’t think I look too shabby. Matt seemed to agree because finally, his voice was quite low when he said, “I think they should look pretty fine on you, Mrs. Harper.”
My stomach fluttered and my mouth was dry, but I really wanted to ask him. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. And he’d probably just laugh at me. But I asked him, with my heart in my mouth, “If I put them on, Matt, would you tell me if they look okay?” I waited for his answer, wishing that I hadn’t been such an idiot. My stomach did somersaults and knotted and twisted. What the fuck was I doing?
This rangy, beautiful lad had the eye of all the girls in the mall. He wasn’t going to want to spend this fine, sunny afternoon with an older woman getting freaky all over his hot young bones. While I was trying to think of a credible way to brush it off, Matt’s voice came back, thick in his throat and his smile broadened. “Mrs. Harper, I would love to tell you how you look in those little, pink frilly panties.”
Relieved and excited, I leaned over to give him a little kiss. “Matt, you’re so nice.”
He put his hand on my throat under my ear and his hand trembled as he held me and looked in my eyes. My breath was heavy and my tongue slipped out to moisten my lips. My eyelids lowered as I looked down at his strong, cleft chin and his wide, full lips, then back into his hazel eyes. They shone as he said, “Oh, I’m not so very nice, Mrs. Harper.”
And I said, “Well, that is good news, Matt.”
I left him with a beer while I changed into the little panties. A long, soft, cream silk gown and a pair of tan heels set them off, with a dangly necklace and some Yves Saint-Laurent fragrance.
Stepping out on the patio, the breeze caught my thin robe and showed Matt a lot more of my tan than I had intended. Pulling the robe back together, I giggled nervously, like it was something silly and nonsexual. Looking up at Matt, his eyes were wide and his lip was curling.
I said, “Matt, I can’t believe I’m even asking you to tell me how these panties look. I saw the way that you stirred the girls in the mall. I bet you kindle little flames in a lot of girls.”
Matt frowned, as his eyes traced up and down my body. Every time they found a curve or a slope to linger on, they scurried away, only to be transfixed by another part of me. He said, “Girls around my age, they’re sweet and all, but I mean, I just don’t go for all the silly stuff that they’re into. It makes me mad, all those little games they play and the dumb boy bands they listen to.”
“Oh? What kinds of girls do you like, Matt?”
“Well… Mrs. Harper, I’m just not really all that into girls at all.”
My chest felt tight and my arms tingled. My knees felt a little weak. I said, “Do you prefer boys, Matt?”
His eyes were on my thighs. They wandered up to where the robe was open. Then they shot up to my breasts, then away to meet me eye to eye, but they ran again as he spoke, “I do like boys, Mrs. Harper, yes,” With a struggle, his eyes found their way back to mine, and they smoldered. “And women, Mrs. Harper. I like beautiful, elegant women.” I smiled.
“Like you.” He said.
There it was. Now he could look in my eyes, at least for a moment.
“So, how do the panties look on me, Matt?”
“Show me again, Mrs. Harper.” His eyes narrowed now, and his nostrils flared, “Please. Show me your panties now.”
As I slowly crossed the patio, my thighs trembled as I let the robe fall open. I said,
“They’re quite damp now, Matt.” He sniffed the air as I got close, standing over him, his rangy frame gorgeously disarranged on the chair.
“May I breathe your scent, Mrs. Harper?” I held his head gently, my fingers curling in his soft hair as he leaned in to take in the curling perfume of my aching, juicy sex. I felt the air cool as he drew it into his nose and mouth. I felt the warmth between my thighs as he sighed.
I felt the firm clasp of his hands on my buttocks as he extended his tongue for the first taste. My hips tilted as my clit buzzed in the pink panties and ached for him to cool it with his mouth.
His fingers stroked my thighs and his tongue, soft, cool, and mobile, licked the outside of my panties, bringing a buzzing pulse to the length of my swelling lips. My juice was flowing warm and fluid. His breath was hot as he murmured, “Oh, you taste fine, Mrs. Harper.”
I trembled all over and I was fighting for control, as I said, “Let’s see how you taste, Matt,” and I reached for his belt.
Matt moaned, “Oh, Mrs. Harper!” as I pulled his zipper down, and again as I pulled his pants down to set his thick, red cock springing free. My hand couldn’t get all the way around it, so I used both hands to give it a friendly, teasing stroke, from the head slowly down to his balls. It was veiny and dark and red and beautiful.
Matt moaned again, louder this time, “Oh, Mrs. Harper,” His eyes were wide and wild as I leant in to lick him, from his tight balls to his superb purple crown and, just as my wet lips got around his head, and my wet little tongue tasted the precum on the underside of his gorgeous shaft, he shouted and cum pumped into my mouth, onto my face, it shot onto my breasts and in my hair.
His cock spouted like a burst waterpipe and I chased wildly to catch the delicious, salty spunk with my mouth and my tongue. As the white lava started to fly, Matt shouted, “Oh, no. No. Mrs. Harper, I’m so sorry.”
I saw the anguish all over his face and I said, “Matt, it’s lovely. Come for me.” I stroked him and licked him and sucked him, anything to keep him coming and keep that heavenly look of complete raging abandon on his sweet face.
“Yes, Matt, YES!”
“Mrs. Harper, OMIGOD, Mrs. Harper, Oh, GOD!”
“Yes Matt, Yes! More, come ON!” and he did. That huge cock pumped and pulsed and squirted and shot, and Matt moaned and he groaned in an exquisite mix of ecstasy and agony. I kissed and licked him, and I spoke softly to reassure him. I nuzzled him and caressed him.
When he was calmer, he said, “I’m so, so sorry, Mrs. Harper.”
My eyes gleamed as I told him, “Matt, a woman loves nothing, nothing more than to be appreciated.”
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