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Archive name: taken.txt (F/m, 1st, reluc, smoking fet)
Authors name: Ken Poulmann (kpoulmann@earthlink.net)
Story title : Taken in Her John
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2001. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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TAKEN IN HER JOHN (F/m, 1st, reluc, smoking fetish)
By Ken Poulmann (kpoulmann@earthlink.net)
***
Brief Description:
"She had been my sitter on similar occasions, but never
did I fathom that this 53 year-old-woman would take my
virginity. In all fairness, it was I who instigated all
of this. With my adolescent hormones raging, I
masturbated whenever and wherever I could get away with
it.... in her guest bedroom, in the bathroom, etc. Like
any normal (or, so I thought) juvenile boy my curiosity
got the best of me until I'd even snatched a pair of
Sandra's panties to sniff as I jerked off."
***
My parents left town on a getaway cruise so they asked
one of our neighbors, Sandra Polisi, to put me up at her
place for the duration. An attractive divorcee for her
53 years, Mrs. Polisi originally hailed from Texas as
was apparent by her heavy, southern accent. Her elder,
"Barbara Walters" looks were complimented by Italian-
black hair. For as long as I can remember she wore it in
a style reminiscent of one of those dated, beehive
coifs.
She had sat me on similar occasions, but never did I
fathom that this woman would take my virginity.... much
less in the positively perverse way in which she had! In
all fairness, it was I who instigated all of this. With
my adolescent hormones raging, I masturbated whenever
and wherever I could get away with it.... in her guest
bedroom, in the bathroom, etc. Like any normal (or, so I
thought) juvenile boy my curiosity got the best of me
until I'd even snatched a pair of Sandra's panties to
sniff as I jerked off.
Unbeknownst to me, Sandra heard my telltale moans
emanating from her john throughout the week. I was
equally unaware that she found her panties stashed
beneath my pillow before leaving for work on that
fateful Friday morning.
I spent the school day with a perpetual hard-on.
Afterwards, I made a beeline to Sandra's place to unload
the sperm in my bloated balls. I entered the front door
expecting her to be home from the office by then,
preparing supper as usual. I traipsed down the hall and
heard the radio tuned to the easy-listening station that
she adored. The instant I reached the bathroom doorway I
got the shock of my life!
THERE WAS MRS. POLISI HUNKERED ON THE COMMODE WITH HER
BUSINESS SKIRT HIKED ABOUT HER WAIST.... AWAITING MY
ARRIVAL! HER ONE ELBOW RESTED ON HER KNEE, LIMP-WRISTING
A CIGARETTE UP IN MID-AIR, WHILE SLOWLY FRIGGING HER
BUSHY QUIM WITH HER FREE HAND!
She beckoned me inside for "a little chat," so I
sauntered into the john on queasy legs until I was
stationed between her splayed-open loins. The fishy
aroma wafting from her mound combined with her musty
smoke, causing a taboo aura to permeate the room. As
Sandra tersely crushed out her cigarette, I shifted
uneasily. She lit a fresh Winston 100 and proceeded to
exhale in her Dallas drawl, "NOW, YOUNG'UN, JUST WHAT
WERE MY DRAWERS DEWIN' IN YER BED?"
I stood frozen and unable to speak. Partially due to
embarrassment, and, due in part to the vision before my
adolescent eyes. SHE WAS MASTURBATING! I gawked between
Sandra's statuesque loins and was both enamored and
afraid by what I saw. I hadn't even petted with a girl
my own age yet.... and there I was catching my very
first glimpse of A MATURE WOMAN'S VAGINA in heat! Each
time her delving fingers slowly emerged; they were
covered with frothy discharge.
My gaze shifted to the spent Kotex she'd left draped
over the seat rim. From sex-ed class, I'd barely known
what a Kotex was used for. It was evident that it wasn't
her period. I can only surmise that she was so aroused
deciding my fate that a maxi-pad was necessary to sop up
her copious love juice. Her Kotex was absolutely
saturated! The lathery puddle in the middle of that
napkin mesmerized me!
What's more---THAT CIGARETTE! I was unexplainably
aroused by Sandra's rather skulking, seductive drags! To
this day, I still can't pinpoint why. Perhaps I was just
at such an impressionable age. All the while I fidgeted
uneasily, my dick swelled into a full-fledged erection
simply from her sultry smoking.
I was jostled from my little reverie when Sandra
proclaimed that she overheard me "dewin' the dirty
diddle" right there in her john. She wanted to know
once-and-for-all why I had possession of her briefs?
Glowing beet-red, I broke down and meekly stammered,
"Nothin', Mrs. Polisi---Just smellin' them." She knew
full well what I had been doing with them behind her
back. Feigning surprise, however, she shot back,
"SMELLIN' 'EM??! NOW, WHAT KIND OF A NAUGHTY LITTLE MAN
GOES 'ROUND SMELLIN' GIRLS' UNDIES, HHHHMMMMM??!"
Adding fuel to the fire, Sandra lifted on her reading
glasses and spotted the thick bulge sprouting in my
crotch. After drawing in on her Winston, she mused,
"JUST A LOOK AT YEW, MISTER....YER CARTIN' A BONER IN
THERE FER ME, RIGHT NOW, AREN'T'CHA??!"
I squirmed and tried to conceal the telltale tent in my
crotch with my hands. In a childish effort to divert the
blame, I blurted without thinking, "I can't help it,
Mrs. Polisi! Your smokin's making me hard!"
WRONG THING TO SAY! She initially gave me a puzzled
look, but then, caught on in a flash. Pulling a fresh
Winston from her pack in a seductive fashion, she lip-
dangled it and lit up with a provocative pout.
With that, she brushed aside my hands and proceeded to
unbuckle my jeans. Believe you me, I was in a state of
shock and disbelief! This fifty something woman was
pantsing me! I tried to scoot away but she tugged me
back in place, and scolded, "STAY PUT, MISTER! WE'LL SEE
HOW HORNY Y'ALL BE WHEN I'M A THROUGH WITH YEW!"
As my Bugle Boys dropped around my ankles in a rumpled
heap, I pleaded like a kid who was caught in the cookie
jar, "EEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW---MRS. POLISI---NNNNNNNOOOOOO!"
With that Winston wickedly up-tilted in the corner of
her mouth, Sandra knowingly winked at me and hooked her
fingers into my elastic waistband. My mouth just gaped
open as she eased down my jockeys. I mean, the words
lumped up in my throat and I was mortified!
Lo and behold---out sproinged my 8 inch erection in all
its glory! Ogling the massive pink pole that bobbed and
weaved in front of her, she exclaimed through her
cigarette-clenching lips, "KENNETH POULMANN---SUCH A
SAUSAGE!"
I whimpered and squirmed skittishly as this 53-year-old
neighbor raked her long nails down my tender shaft.
Following a teasing drag on her cigarette, Mrs. Polisi
cupped my sparsely covered balls in her moist palm. With
another knowing wink, she exhaled in her doting coo,
"BET'CHA THEM NUTS ARE A FULL OF 'KENNY KREAM',
HHHHMM??!"
She striped my pants completely off and scooted me
around until my butt faced her. I craned my neck to the
side and looked in the full-length mirror adorning the
bathroom wall. As she peeled my pert tush apart with her
thumbs, I had no option but to watch her leering back at
me with that Winston dangling from her lips. I cringed
at the thought of an elder female ogling my teenage
brownie for the very first time, as she teased, "TCH-
TCH-TCH...YER MOMMA SURE GAVE YEW A SWEET LITTLE
POOPER!"
Making matters worse, Mrs. Polisi released one cheek and
saucily smoked her Winston. She then leaned forward and
nestled her nose on my bunghole. My bent knees wobbled
as her steamy breath flowed across the surface of my
poohole when she began to sniff it! I let forth another
series of whimpering protests, and she re-emerged from
my squirming butt to inhale her Winston 100. She
couldn't resist taunting even further, by exhaling in
her cigarette-raspy voice, "GOODNESS SAKES....YER LIL'
OL' BUMMER EVEN SMELLS YUMMY!"
If I'd known then the kind of humiliating ordeal that
she'd concocted I would have stayed at school. Mrs.
Polisi spun me again until I faced the vanity mirror
next to the commode. Retrieving her spent Kotex from the
seat, she deposited it in my palm and had me hoist it up
to my nose. With that, I was instructed to smell it and
jack off in her fist for her viewing pleasure!
All of this because I'd taken her panties???! I wove
back and forth on my bowed legs, and pleaded as if my
life depended upon it, "I CAN'T DO IT IN FRONT OF YOU,
MRS. POLISI! PPPUUULLLEEEZZZEEE---I WON'T DO IT
ANYMORE!"
Despite my scathing embarrassment, I succumbed to
Sandra's lewd wishes after she fisted my cock with her
manicured fingers and threatened to inform my parents of
my panty pilfering. When my butt slowly began rocking to
and fro, she tacitly nodded her approval. I timidly
cradled her sodden pad against my nose and whiffed in.
My senses were inundated with her tangy, tuna-like
scent. It was so much stronger than the crusted cream
that I smelled on her panties! I bucked uncontrollably,
blubbering and blurting, "EEEEEWWWWWW---MRS. POLISI!
EEEEEWWWWNNNN, GOOEY KOTEX!"
Mrs. Polisi pensively inhaled her cigarette and observed
my randy reaction with decadent delight. Peering at me
in the vanity mirror, she coaxed in her Texas twang,
"THAT'S IT---SNIFF THAT JAM PAD! SHOW ME HOW Y'ALL TOSS
YOUR TOOL! SMELL MY SANDRA SOUP, YOUNG'UN!"
It became quite evident that this woman had some rather
kinky fetishes of her own. She seemed a little more than
preoccupied with "names and cuisine." I mean, each time
I whiffed in her heady fragrance, she introduced even
smuttier parlance to my adolescent vocabulary, "YEAH'AH-
--JUST SMELL THAT SNATCH STEW!
THAT'S IT, SNIFF MY POLISI PASTE---SMELL ME GOOD! WHIP
YER WEINER ON THE TOILET SEAT!"
There was something oh-so-matronly about the way that
she poised her Winston Long up at her side, next to
those half-frame eyeglasses. In the process, Sandra
clicked her thumbnail against her pinky nail and
returned my moping gaze, while tempting, "THAT'S RIGHT-
--SMELL THAT SANDRA SAUCE! Y'ALL LIKE IT---LIKE MY CUNT
CUSTARD???! YEAH'AH---SNIFF MY WOMAN WINE!"
Minutes later, Mrs. Polisi lip-dangled her ever present
Winston in the corner of her mouth and used her free
hand to resume masturbating herself. Heaping more shame
on me, she demanded that I reprise my adolescent
ramblings and masturbate "to the beat" with her. Again,
my begging and apologies were all for naught. Her
reflection in the mirror boasted pure determination, as
she frigged off and insisted, "C'MON, SING IT FER
ME....OOOOOOOOOOO, SMELLY KOTEX!"
The longer Mrs. Polisi leered up over her glasses with
that Winston up-tilted in her lips, the more I felt like
a supplicant before her majestic "throne." Wearing a
forlorn frown, I resigned myself to do her bidding.
Recalling the juvenile rhymes my pals and I had bandied
about, I whined and jacked off in tandem with her, "BEAT
THE MEAT....JUICY SCREW! EEEEEEEWWWWWWWNNNNNNN BOY,
THAT'S NASTY!"
Sandra radiated UNADULTERATED LUST as she returned my
doe-eyed gaze and kept tilting her eyes down to her own
rhythmically plunging fingers. It was a blatant attempt
to seduce me in the seediest fashion, knowing that I
couldn't take my eyes off her drooling poon pot.
Matching her stroke-for-stroke, I was utterly ashamed
that she'd discovered just how ripe and randy I was for
a 14-year-old. On the other hand, Sandra was elated each
time I chanted like a choirboy to the cadence of our
mutual masturbation, "STROKE MY POLE...CREAM 'ER HOLE!
EEEEWWWNN BOY, THAT'S NASTY! SHOOT THE GOO...SPLASH 'ER
GASH! EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWNNNNNNN, GOOEY PUSSY!"
About 10 minutes into this tawdry task, the first pangs
of orgasm welled up in my overheated testicles.
Overwrought with the mortifying prospect of sperming off
in front of her, I halted abruptly and whinnied,
"NNNNNNNOOOOOOO---MRS. POLISI---DON'T---I'M GONNA
SQUIRT!"
How I wished I'd never mentioned her smoking! Sandra
relinquished my throbbing pecker and left me teetering
to light up yet another Winston. In the process, she
knowingly muttered through her cigarette-clutching lips,
"WHAT'ZA MATTER, LITTLE MAN---FIXIN' TA SPUNK??! Y'ALL
WANNA SPEND WITH ME, HHHMMMM....WANNA CUM??!"
(Believe it or not, I was so inexperienced that I had no
idea as to what the words "SPUNK" and "CUM" meant! As I
already alluded, I only knew teen words such as,
"CREAMING, JUICING, SQUIRTING, SPERMING," etc.)
Setting aside her lighter, Mrs. Polisi lip-dangled her
Winston and caressed my testicles like a velvety milking
machine. She encircled my cock helmet with merely her
thumb and forefinger and corkscrewed them around the
ultra-sensitive skin on my dick head. I tipped back and
forth on my high-topped Nikes, fraught and guilt-ridden
about ejaculating in the presence of a female for the
first time in my entire life!
My mouth felt like dry cotton, as I pleaded between
gulps, "I'M SORRY, MRS. POLISI! DON'T, YOU'RE MAKIN' ME
JUICE! PPPUUULLEEEEZZZ, MRS. POLISI! NNNNOOOOOO, IT'S
NASTY!"
At that very moment, something caught my ear and remains
embedded in my psyche to this very day. A song lilted
from the stereo as I tried desperately to stave off my
cum. I've come to equate this particular song, "The
Hustle," with the deep embarrassment that I felt during
my virgin orgasm.
It was to the tune of this song that I became more and
more despondent about ejaculating in her presence. As
Mrs. Polisi fondled her thumb and forefinger around my
penis in slow, torturous motion, the churning sperm in
my balls produced an excruciating itch. She just kept
raising her eyebrows in that knowing look and coerced in
her Texas twang, "Y'ALL CUN DEW IT, YOUNG'UN---SPILL YER
SYRUP! THAT'S RIGHT, SAY YER SORRY....FIRE THAT EGGNOG!"
You talk about ROBBING THE CRADLE! THERE I WAS IN THAT
BOW-LEGGED LITTLE SQUAT, A HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN WITH A
WOMAN'S SPENT KOTEX SADDLED BENEATH MY HOSE....AND SHE
WANTED ME TO "APOLOGIZE" BY "SPENDING" IN HER VERY
PRESENCE!
When the molten lava suddenly erupted from my trembling
cock, my loins went taut and I squinted into the mirror,
ever so afraid to witness what was about to happen. To
this very day I can still hear the lyrics of "The
Hustle" echoing through my mind, while I wore a slack-
jawed mask of remorse, and bawled, "AWWWWWNNNN----
MRS.POLISI! OOOoooo-OOOOoooo-OOOoooo--OOOooo---OOOoooo,
do it!"
As that first ropy volley arced forth, Sandra's eyes
nearly popped from their sockets! When my pearly semen
splooshed upon her mirror, she drawled incredulously,
"GOOD GAWD, MISTER---YER PISSIN' THAT GRAVY!"
With each stringy glob that jettisoned from my flesh
fountain, I felt guiltier than the moment before. As
another refrain of "The Hustle" punctuated the room, I
cringed at the sight of my chastity clinging like webs
of gluey yarn on the mirror. At that age, I was clueless
as to how a female should react to a male's orgasm. Our
neighbor alternately scolded and then mollycoddled
through her cigarette-clenching lips, "THAT'S IT, YEW
LITTLE SNOT---POP THAT WAD! SHOW ME HOW YEW BEEN
DROPPIN' YER LOADS IN HERE! THAT'S A GOOD BOY---WHIZZ
YER KENNY KREAM! OOOoooo-OOOOoooo-OOOoooo--OOOooo---
OOOoooo, do it!"
By then, I was reduced to a pitiful slouch. With each
indignant twist of her hand, Mrs. Polisi's costume
bracelets jingled on her slender wrist. To this very day
I'm still haunted by the image of this woman glowering
up over those half-framed glasses with that towering
beehive hairdo crowning her features! Serving after
serving of my "gravy" spewed forth, as she admonished
amidst the tune playing on her stereo, "THAT'S THE WAY--
-HOSE THAT HONEY! DRAIN THEM BALLS FER ME! I SAID, DRAIN
'EM, MISTER! SPUNK FER ME, YOUNG'UN---SPRAY IT ALL OUT!
Do The Hustle! Do The Hustle! Do The Hustle!"
When my climax finally subsided, I was left gasping and
doubled over in that naughty squat. Lingering over the
remainder of her smoke, Mrs. Polisi perused the amount
of "syrup" I dowsed upon her mirror. She just couldn't
resist goading me about the size of my load, as she
wheezed, "MY-OH-MY-OH-MY---YEW HORNY LITTLE SNOT---SUCH
A SPUNKIN'!"
Moreover, she remarked on my turgid erection. "JEEZUZ!,"
Sandra crowed, "Y'ALL STILL GOT A BONER??!" I blushed
with a fresh dose of embarrassment and sheepishly
stuttered the only explanation I could, "I N-N-N-NEVER
DUN ANYTHING WITH A GIRL BEFORE, MRS. POLISI."
Once again, that was perhaps the last thing that I
should have said! With confirmation that a pure virgin
was in her midst, Sandra indulged her most obscene
desires. She knelt me down between her lush loins and
decreed, "IT'S 'BOUT TIME YEW HAD A GOOD HOT FUCKIN',
BUSTER!"
I couldn't believe my own ears! Just the night before I
had been fantasizing about getting into a girl's
panties---and now---I was on the cusp of sexual
intercourse with A FIFTY SOMETHING WOMAN! As she scooted
to the edge of the commode and drew me close, all sorts
of fearful thoughts raced through my mind. I was
absolutely clueless about inserting my love pole in a
girl my age.... let alone a woman old enough to be my
mother!
I knelt there cowering as Sandra took hold of my dick
helmet and wedged it against her steamy, oozing vulva.
As she guided my chaste member into the depths of her
seething tunnel it felt as if I was sinking into a vat
of simmering molasses! I whimpered and moaned when her
frothy, feminine fluid squirted down the root of my
shaft as I entered her innermost womb.
As she paused to light yet another Winston, Sandra
insisted I smell her Kotex all over again. Clamping her
hand on one of my butt cheeks, she began fucking me in
and out. For those first few moments, she was content to
savor her cigarette and lazily sashay me back and forth
like a limp rag doll. She radiated an eerie persona of
"DOMINANT WOMANHOOD." In a strange sort of way I felt
cuckold by the way her business skirt scalloped down
both sides of the commode. In stark contrast, I was
sequestered between her patent leather high heels,
lethargically humping in only my shirt, socks and Nikes.
A while into our illicit fornication, however, I was
initiated into a vulgar routine that Mrs. Polisi
performed whenever she had her way with me from that day
forward. A favorite tune of hers had begun playing on
the stereo this time, entitled, "More, More, More."
There were two distinct pauses after the phrase, "More,
More, More." In unison to these beats Sandra thrust me
and uttered the words, "FUCK-FUCK." Strange as the
following seems, she got a rise from sort of taunting me
in this manner. In fact, each time she tried to keep up
with these half beats she slurred the words until they
sounded more like, "FUH-FUCK!"
Mrs. Polisi began singing her salacious rendition of
this tune right there in the midst of our fuck! Of
course, she really didn't "sing" it. Instead, she
muttered it in her drawling monotone, and slowly screwed
me in and out to the rhythm and the beat:
"MORE, MORE, MORE.... FUH-FUCK! HOW DO YA LIKE IT....
HOW DO YA LIKE IT? MORE, MORE, MORE...FUH-FUCK! HOW DO
YA LIKE IT.... HOW DO YA LIKE IT? MORE, MORE, MORE...
FUH-FUCK! HOW DO YA LIKE IT.... HOW DO YA LIKE YER F-U-
C-K?" OOOOOOOoooooo.... HOW DO YA LIKE MY POON?
OOOOOOooooooo... HOW DO YA LIKE YER SCREW!"
I felt thoroughly sissified by the way this long-time
neighbor of ours was administering my very first fuck.
More and more, Sandra seemed to alternately mollycoddle
me one instant, and then, discipline me the next. One
moment she'd raise her eyebrows and wink provocatively,
as if mothering, "OOOOOOOOOOO, OUR LITTLE MAN'S FUCKIN!"
The next instant she'd fix her gaze over her reading
glasses and sternly draw in on her Winston.
Mid-way through this song Sandra whipped her cigarette
into the side of her mouth and grappled both my butt
cheeks. Adding further emphasis she drilled me in and
out of her that much harder, and scowled, "DEW YER DUTY,
MISTER---START A HUMPIN'!"
As I intimated, I was a neophyte when it came to coitus.
Armed only with my intuition, I pistoned my groin back
and forth to the tempo of "MORE, MORE, MORE." I averted
my eyes to the side to escape her leering looks, but she
followed suit and glanced at me in the mirror. She
enjoyed the way that I sulked as she peered up over her
reading glasses in an almost authoritarian fashion. Her
nails dug into my pouncing rump and she double-time
fucked me during these maraca beats....heaping
additional guilt upon me by uttering the forbidden
nature of our act over and over again: "MORE, MORE,
MORE...FUH-FUCK! HOW DO YA LIKE IT... HOW DO YA LIKE IT?
MORE, MORE, MORE...FUH-FUCK! HOW DO YA LIKE IT...HOW DO
YA LIKE YER H-U-M-P?"
Almost 20 minutes into my debut fuck, I wailed out
warnings of my impending cum. Overcome with the shame of
depositing my semen into a previously married woman, I
halted abruptly in mid-stroke and begged for a reprieve.
To my chagrin, she'd have none of it! Hell-bent on
capturing my virgin cargo, Sandra plowed me in and out
at a whorish pace and grunted, "C'MON, MISTER---POP THAT
CHERRY! GIT A GOIN'---DROP YER LOAD---DROP IT!"
I had no option but to take off galloping like a bucking
bronco, causing Sandra's svelte butt to smack the toilet
seat up and down once again on the commode. Clouds of
bluish smoke billowed from her Winston-slinging lips, as
she growled, "FLUSH THE SLUSH, YOUNG MAN! C'MON---GIMME
YER BABY MAKER! SQUIRT THAT BOY BROTH!"
Ensnared in her wanton embrace, my nose enmeshed itself
in her beehive coif. When my chastity finally exploded
from my rod, I turned towards the vanity mirror and was
greeted by Mrs. Polisi's matronly features, as I
stuttered and sobbed, "EEEEWWWWWW, I'M SORRY---MRS.
POLISI, DON'T MAKE ME GOOSH! IT'S SQUIRTIN'---MRS.
POLISI---EEEWWWWNNN I'M S-O-R-R-Y!"
Unprepared for the torrential downpour that deluged her
innermost womb, Sandra bellowed though her cigarette-
clenching lips, "CHRISSAKES, POULMANN---YER A KNOCKIN'
ME UP!"
There were two distinct aspects about my virgin
consummation that I'll never, ever forget for as long as
I live. I was forced to swim in the intoxicating
combination of her VO-5 hairspray and Emeraude perfume
when my nose entwined itself in Mrs. Polisi's hairdo.
Secondly, I shivered at the sensation of my face
pressing into her make up-caked, hollow cheekbones. I
felt just as squeamish by the way that her silvery
eyeglass chain drooped against my flushed cheeks.
How the rest of the neighbors clear around the cul-de-
sac hadn't heard our taboo mating calls is beyond me.
Each time my virgin jism splashed into her marshy
sleeve, the entire bathroom resounded with my high-
pitched squeals and Mrs. Polisi's Texas twang: "THAT'S
IT---MAKE YER MOMMA PROUD, YOUNG'UN---KNOCK ME UP!
IIIICCCHHHHHHH---I'M SORRY, MRS. POLISI---I'M TRYIN'!
KEEP A GOIN'---POP THAT CHERRY IN ME---KEEP A CUMMIN'!
I'M SORRY, MRS. POLISI---I'M JUICING----I'M S-O-R-R-Y!
THAT'S YER DUTY---DUMP YER BOY BUTTER IN THERE'AH,
BUSTER! I'M DOIN' IT, MRS. POLISI---EEEEWWWWWWW, I'M
SQUIRTING!"
After she'd managed to siphon me completely dry, I
collapsed upon her shoulder---utterly vanquished and
humiliated. While Sandra basked in the afterglow of her
forbidden conquest, the john was felled by a deafening
silence---broken only by the soft sucking and rushing of
her breath as she finished her smoke. She kept me
imprisoned between her mature loins as the syrupy
combination of my creamy chastity and her thick feminine
discharges drizzled out and soaked my teenage balls. It
was as if she wanted me to languish in her swampy vagina
so I'd always remember just who it was who plucked my
cherry.
She wasn't through with me, not by a long shot!
For the remainder of that weekend until my parents
returned, Sandra used me to satiate her womanly desires.
And, did she e-v-e-r have an awesome libido for a fifty
something lady! I wasn't even granted a respite for
supper until after she escorted me to the inner sanctum
of her boudoir to have her way with me all over again.
She was so anxious to administer my second fuck that
Sandra hadn't even bothered to disrobe. She merely
kicked off her high heels and trussed up her skirt,
before lounging back on her bed in all her spread-eagle
splendor. Within moments, I found myself prostrated on
her bed resplendent in my shirt, socks and sneakers....
hovering between Mrs. Polisi's up-bent legs in the act
of "dutiful humping." Propping her head up on the
pillows, she folded one arm over the other, smoking her
Winstons in her increasingly judicial fashion. By this
juncture she appeared to be meting out discipline by
decreeing that I was going to "dew my duty" even if it
took all night. (As an aside, I hadn't a clue as to what
she meant when she kept referring to "dew your duty.")
During our second fuck, Mrs. Polisi's bedroom
reverberated with all the trappings of a hotel bridal
suite. The rickety squeaking of her bedsprings and the
rhythmic thumping of the headboard against the wall
spelled ULTRA-FORBIDDEN, OLDER WOMAN-TO-YOUNGER BOY SEX!
In the midst of all of this yet another of Mrs. Polisi's
favorite songs played on the radio, "Rock The Boat," by
The Hues Corporation.
That tune had no sooner begun and she found herself
clutching onto my butt globes and "fucking to the beat"
all over again. Against the easy listening staccato of
"Rock The Boat," she droned through her cigarette-
dangling lips, leaving me to moan obediently: "THAT'S
RIGHT, KENNETH---STUD ME LIKE THE BIG BOYS DEW! YES,
MAMN---I WILL, MRS. POLISI! EEEEEWWWWNN, YES MAMN! Rock
The Boat...Don't Tip The Boat Over! HIDE THAT SALAMI,
YOUNG'UN! YEA'AH, KEEP A FUCKIN'! YES MAMN, I AM! I'M
SORRY, MRS POLISI! YES MAMN! Rock The Boat...Oooohh-Ooh-
Ooh-Ooohh-Oohh-Oooohhh!"
Even before I squealed out fears of my liquid release,
the glum look on my face tipped Sandra off to my
approaching orgasm. She screwed me in and out as if she
truly were a schoolmarm "tutoring a student in the facts
of life." She got a kick from my woeful expression when
she slithered my cock head to her engorged vulva....only
to force me back downward with an assertive thrust on my
hips. I had no recourse but to watch her peering up over
those half-frame glasses, which rested perpetually on
the lower bridge of her nose. Coupled with her beehive
hairdo and swizzling cigarette, she looked increasingly
like a school disciplinarian!
And so, for the second time in my adolescent life this
older woman had welcomed my teenage sperm into her more
"experienced" womb. My cum tends to sling out and has
the consistency of ropy egg whites. Once again, Mrs.
Polisi obviously felt the egg-like texture of the
boyhood I spurted into her innermost womanhood. Her
mound lurched and undulated as she took my second cherry
load with the anxiousness of a spinster who finally got
married, complete with her Winston dancing in the corner
of her dour lips!
To my dismay, she again insisted that I warble out my
adolescent litany. Between The Hues Corporation's song,
Mrs. Polisi's rutting rants, and my pathetic whines, it
truly sounded as if she was indeed a depraved teacher
intent on impregnating herself with a student's jism:
"MAKE ME A MOMMA, BUSTER--SPUNK IT IN ME! PUMP 'ER
UP...FILL 'ER MUFF! EEEEEEEEWWWWWWNNNNN BOY, WE'RE
FUCKIN'! Rock The Boat...Don't Tip The Boat Over! DEW IT
LIKE THE BIG BOYS, KENNETH----SPILL IT IN ME!"
Try as I may, I can't find the words to convey the
mortifying shame that washed over me during those
precious few moments. My humiliation was compounded
because of the vice-like grip Sandra held on my pouncing
groin, causing my elbows to crumple until I was again
cheek-to-cheek with this woman. As before, my flaring
nostrils were forced to retreat into her hairspray
encrusted do. Once more, I found myself drowning in the
aromas that I equated to those of an older, once-married
woman....EMERAUDE PERFUME, VO-5 HAIRSPRAY, MATURE MUSKY
CUNT, and STALE CIGARETTES! The more I became entangled
in her hive coif, the more my voice was muffled as I
obediently finished our "dirty duet": "Rock The
Boat...Don't Rock The Boat, Baby! YER GONNA KNOCK ME UP
IF IT TAKES ALL NIGHT, YOUNG'UN! STICK 'ER SLOT...MAKE
'ER HOT! EEEEEEEWWWWWNNNNNN BOY, I'M GOOSHING! Y'ALL CUN
DEW IT, LITTLE MAN....MAKE A BABY IN THERE'AH! Rock The
Boat...Don't Tip The Boat Over!"
In short, that was only the beginning! One can surmise
what transpired the rest of the night and over the
course of the weekend. While having her way with me, she
had me "servicing her" in ways that would probably shock
even the most experienced brothel madam. The rest will
have to wait until I finish penning the next
installment.
I'd love to receive feedback from any of you "forty
something" or "fifty something" gals who harbor secret,
unfulfilled fantasies such as these. My ultimate desire
is to re-enact my virgin fuck on the commode, at the
hands of another "elder smoker" the likes of Mrs.
Polisi.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 16