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Alice, My Best Friend's Mother
by The Tall Man (tallman034@aol.com)

***

A young boy's first sexual experience is with his best 
friend's mother. (Fm-teen, ped, 1st)

***

I invite you to read this simple story without 
hurrying; try to enjoy a little of the youthful 
nostalgia I have tried to create, before racing to the 
climax, so to speak. Whether the whole pleases you or 
not, intelligent and sensible comments and discussion 
will always be welcome, preferably not of the 
'anonymous' kind. 

All characters in this story are over 18 years old.

Part One – Spring

"The first time..."

When you're a normal, healthy male teenager, big, fit 
and strong like I was then, you could justify, at least 
to yourself, thinking that you were probably 
indestructible and that you would live forever. In that 
period of your youth, two things are important: sport 
and sex. Everything else is a serious hindrance, 
getting in the way of these two key preoccupations of 
eighteen year old adolescent lives. School studies, 
home chores, errands, nothing counts like the 
enthusiastic, committed and energetic use, misuse and 
abuse of your fast-growing and changing body, and of 
course, its attachments.

Sport for me and my best friend Terry was running, 
jumping, standing still. It was hedonistic. Pushing our 
bodies to the limits of skill, endurance and then 
exhaustion, trying to prove, somehow without realising 
it, our inherent indestructibility. It was soccer, 
cricket, tennis, athletics and more. Terry was Bobby 
Moore and I was Gordon Banks. Then I was Ron Clarke and 
he was Mohammed Gammoudi battling out the Tokyo 1964 
Olympic 10,000 metres final. Then we were someone else, 
world class sprinters, tennis men. 

It rained, it snowed, the sun shone; we didn't care 
what the weather was like. We were out there, thrashing 
our bodies and our limitless sporting imaginations. We 
were kicking around our much-used, rain-soaked leather 
football, which hurt when we headed for goal, 
especially when we felt its razor sharp knotted lace on 
the forehead. Or ripping layers of skin off our knees, 
bums and thighs on frozen turf when we fell tackling 
each other for ball possession. Or running around the 
school grass track, stopwatch in hand, dry mouthed and 
sweating under the hot sun of summer afternoons, shirts 
off, burning our young shoulders. 

Only the end of daylight on the sports field at the end 
of the day, the insistence of our parents, or the 
inevitable call from our bellies to fill up our 
reserves of energy dragged us away from these physical 
devotions; that was sport, for my pal Terry and me.

Sex was imagination and masturbation.

Terry I were inseparable after I helped him out of a 
one-sided school yard fight. He was not as physically 
developed as me, and needed a big hand when he was set 
upon by a group of half a dozen boys one day after 
school. We were roughly the same age, but I hardly knew 
Terry before then, since we didn't share the same class 
– he was brighter than me and had been elevated to a 
higher grade. 

I don't recall why the scrap began at all, maybe 
something to do with jealousy or just a nonsense 
argument that got out of hand; but I heard the rumpus 
and saw a howling crowd of school kids forming a circle 
around the action. When I saw the boots going in, poor 
Terry lying on the ground trying to make himself into a 
ball and protect what you might call his 'lower 
stomach', I simply reacted spontaneously to the 
unfairness of the attack, and waded in and thumped a 
couple of the most active and cowardly boys. 

I was tall and quite wide for my age, and with solid 
early adolescent muscles. I was not quite Cassius Clay, 
and my wild punches fell on raised arms, but my bravado 
brought things to a quick conclusion. If the boy-thugs 
had all turned on me at once, I may have finished up as 
another battered human football on the ground with 
Terry. As it happened, the speed and ferocity of my 
timely intervention was enough to make the others 
simply back off. 

There was an eyeball to eyeball standoff that lasted 
all of half a minute, then suddenly the fray was over 
and the threat, and the crowd of onlookers melted away. 
I saw resentment, but genuine fear in the eyes of the 
enemy; I guess that's the power of aggressive surprise, 
the rapid commando force. I helped Terry get up and 
limp his way home, got smiling warm thanks plus tea and 
tinned salmon sandwiches from his mother, and from that 
day on, Terry and I were pals. 

Though very different to each other in many ways, we 
began to share all our spare time together after school 
and as time went by, during weekends and holidays at 
the insistence of Terry's mother. I think she saw how 
well we got on together, and was pleased that he had 
such a close pal, with plenty of interests in common. 
Otherwise he may have finished up a loner.

Terry was ginger haired, small and lightweight, freckly 
and had what you might say, a 'pug nose'. He didn't 
look strong from an athletic point of view, but was 
wiry and tenacious as a fox terrier in any competitive 
situation. I was dark haired, taller and heavier, so in 
a fifty-fifty challenge for a football I usually 
prevailed. But running was Terry's real strength. 

I was a good jumper and thrower, and could beat him 
easily over short sprint distances, but in anything 
longer than 440 yards, the longer the better, Terry was 
a winner. He ran upright, with a short but rapid stride 
and interminable stamina. And in soccer, I was the 
goalkeeper to Terry's nippy inside-left guile, ball 
control and penalty taking. We enjoyed each other's 
competitiveness, whatever the event. We were best pals, 
and we never had a cross word, right up to the day he 
died.

Our friendship grew and grew. Soon, I started spending 
the happiest of weekends and holidays at Terry's home. 
He lived with his mother in a bought house. 'Bought' 
meant semi-detached, bay windows, no rent to pay. A 
small rose bed and driveway at the front with a car on 
it, a Morris 1000, and a big, lawned garden behind. And 
inside, carpets everywhere, classy, heavy furniture, a 
television. Later they got a telephone. You appreciate 
a house like that, when all you've been used to in your 
life is a terraced house rented from the council, with 
no garden front or back. We had no television and no 
car either at our house, until I was much older. 

I was happy, living there with my mum and dad and my 
younger sister Carol in our council owned house, but 
our style of living was just not in the same class by a 
long way as that of Terry and his mum. My parents were 
of what you would call modest means, working class. 
Both manual workers, their education unfinished, 
obliged to leave school early to earn money and 
supplement their parents' budgets until they met each 
other and got married. Now, making all the various ends 
meet for their own family on their irregular and meagre 
wages, was a constant challenge. And they wanted Carol 
and me to have a better schooling than they had 
enjoyed, so all that made it tougher on their pockets. 
We were happy, and we got by, that's all I could say 
about those days. 

Seeing how others lived was a real eye opener, and 
that's how it was when I was at Terry's house, where I 
was always treated really well. I didn't know whether 
his mother was rich, but she certainly wasn't as poor 
as we were, and didn't work either. For me those 
weekends and holidays were very, very special - 
luxurious in many ways, and I will never forget them as 
long as I live. 

Especially that first full summer, when my sexual 
experiences began.

Terry's mother was called Alice, though I never called 
her Alice. I never called her Mrs. Owens; I never 
called her anything. She always used my full name - 
Anthony – which I loved to hear, never calling me 
'Tony' or 'Tone'. She was a widow, but I didn't know 
the details of her husband's death. There was quite an 
old framed photograph of a handsome, stocky, uniformed 
man on the wall over the fireplace; I thought he'd been 
a soldier, but Terry said he was a policeman, and 
that's all he knew, being a baby when his father died. 
If he knew any more, he never let on, and I never 
understood why he wouldn't have been curious about his 
own father. We just didn't talk about it.

Alice was the kindest, gentlest and most beautiful 
woman imaginable in the whole wide world. If that 
sounds like the words of a love-lorn teenager, then so 
be it. At the time, I didn't reflect on her age; she 
was just a grown woman, a mother; but she must have 
been in her late thirties. She was tall and slender, 
with long arms and shapely but strong looking legs, not 
an ounce of fat anywhere; she was also elegant and 
immaculate in her style and dress, whatever she wore. I 
loved to see her hips sway when she wore a 'Charleston' 
dress or skirt.

I imagined later, that my diminutive pal Terry must 
have taken after his dad, so different was he from his 
mother's intense beauty. She had deep brown eyes, a 
longish nose and very white, even teeth. Her pale 
flawless skin was totally absent of freckles, became 
lightly bronzed in summer. Her slightly wavy blond hair 
was always boyish short, delightfully exposing the 
curve of her pale neck. 

Any youth such as I would be, of course obsessed with 
breasts and other bits of the female body, but it was 
her neck which fascinated me from the start. Even so, 
her slim body had all the feminine curves where they 
mattered, including grapefruit-sized breasts and a 
pouting, rounded bum below a slim waist. Such was the 
sum total of her woman's magnetism, her physique and 
personality, her smiling warmth and gaiety, her 
presence when she was in the room, it was hard not to 
keep looking at her. I never sensed her to be in any 
mood other than happy, and I probably fell in love with 
her right from the start, in my naοve, adolescent way.

To begin with, I shared Terry's bedroom with him, a 
large room by our own humble council house standards. 
There were twin single beds separated by a bedside 
table, wide wardrobes along one wall; there was a large 
crock washbasin with high mirror in the corner, by a 
French window which gave onto an iron staircase leading 
down to the neatest garden at the rear. Either in this 
room, or in the garden when we were not kicking a ball 
around somewhere else or running ourselves ragged, we 
had great times together, Terry and I. 

Laughing and joking, reading sports magazines and 
imagining how it would be at the top of a sporting 
career, admired by the whole country for our physical 
prowess, breaking records, scoring hat-tricks, signing 
autographs, meeting the Queen. Sometimes we could be 
quiet, doing our homework together, last minute stuff. 
Mostly Terry helped me, rather than the other way 
round; he was brighter than me.

Then, ogling over well-thumbed pages of Playboy 
magazines, imagining how it would be to actually touch 
the breasts or the thighs of the women in the pictures, 
stick our young cocks into them. Or feeling up the 
girls in our school, especially the older ones, who had 
bigger tits. More than a little curious to see (one 
day) further into and between those casually positioned 
but cunningly photographed thighs into their dark, 
secret, hidden parts; it was called 'vagina' wasn't it, 
the sexual organ of a woman? 

Talking about it, each of us feeling that astonishing 
power of adolescent erection inside our pants or 
underneath our pyjamas, and then masturbating privately 
into our handkerchiefs, unseen but with over-excited 
running commentary for the benefit of the other, under 
the bed covers after lights out. I never saw Terry's 
erect penis, nor he mine, and once or twice I actually 
wondered if he really was doing it like I was, if he 
actually could ejaculate yet. I never was able to 
confirm it. Otherwise, we shared everything in those 
happiest of weekends and holidays at Terry's house. Or 
almost.

I enjoyed especially breakfast time at Terry's house. 
We sat at a table in a bright new verandah just off the 
kitchen, on the east side of the house. Weekends we 
were usually a little late to get ourselves out of bed 
and Alice had already eaten, so she fussed around us, 
serving us big bowls of cereals and endless slices of 
toast with mugs of sweet tea.

I always sat facing the kitchen, where I could watch 
Alice glide around, floating almost, in perpetual 
motion, pausing only now and again to ask us if we 
wanted more, sometimes to ruffle Terry's hair, and call 
him 'Tel', which he hated. She did it to wind him up, 
of course; it was part of their incessant game, the 
heart of their relationship. She teased him a lot, and 
although he usually blushed and pretended to be 
embarrassed in front of me, I knew that he was pleased 
to have his beautiful mother's attention. As she 
floated, she often hummed some pop tune or other. Her 
favourite was Bobby Darin. 

As she turned and twirled around us at the breakfast 
table, I was constantly aware of her light perfume in 
my nostrils. Whilst chatting away with Terry, my head 
rotated on its axis, as I watched the furls of her 
dress or skirt swirl around her very feminine hips and 
thighs. There was glass all around, in the verandah and 
the kitchen windows, and there was almost always light 
behind her, even on a dull day. This light allowed me 
to see the shadow of her body when she was wearing 
light clothing, the outline of her bra covered breasts, 
her bum cheeks, even her knickers.

I imagined too, her nipples pushing against the inside 
cup of her bra, saw the bra straps behind her back. It 
was the nearest thing to heaven. My 'morning glory' 
became a throbbing nuisance under my Y-Front 
underpants, with a longing fuelled partly by what I saw 
and partly by what I imagined I saw, or longed to see 
one day.

I ached for Alice to tousle my hair too, like she did 
for Terry. To feel that soft hand, those manicured 
fingers on my head. My own mother, whom I loved to 
bits, had never been so attentive with Carol and me. 
She did everything necessary, and more, to raise us and 
care for us, but there was never that complicity which 
was so evident between Alice and Terry. I guess the 
absence of a father made the difference; Terry got all 
the attention the missing father didn't get. 

My own father was there in body, absent in spirit most 
of the time. My mother didn't neglect us; she attended 
to our every need. But she was a working woman, with 
rough hands, and she never bestowed upon us that 
gentleness, never that kind of caress that Terry 
received all the time when he was around his mother. It 
was clear that they were very close; Alice always had 
time for him, a gentle word, a teasing remark. They 
shared things. How I envied him; how I wanted to share 
that mother's affection with my best friend Terry, as 
well as all the other good things we had together.

Whatever the season, our free days together were mostly 
spent in sport, and then sometimes we would go to the 
cinema in the evenings. Alice would go with us if she 
felt like it, if the film appealed to her. It was a 
special treat to be seated one each side of her and 
begin to appreciate for the first time how sexually 
arousing and incredibly exciting for a young man can be 
the intimacy of a darkened cinema. 

For me, it was the highlight of a weekend, breathing in 
Alice's perfume, allowing my sometimes bare arm to 
touch accidentally, even press against hers on the 
armrest between us; feeling the throbbing of my penis 
in my Y-Fronts, stimulated by this simple closeness, 
this innocent physical contact with a grown female, the 
beautiful mother of my best friend. To hear her laugh 
at something in the film was musical; if the film was a 
frightener, letting out a squeal she would grip Terry's 
arm and mine and squeeze both at the same moment of 
terror. I loved that squeeze, it made my heart leap and 
my cock leap, and made it to throb harder.

Occasionally, Alice would turn towards us one at a time 
and pass a bag for us to dip in and choose a toffee. 
Her face would be so close to mine, her firm round 
breast would press against my arm. I was in paradise. I 
would twitch hard and long throughout each entire 
sιance, not really wanting this precious, extended 
moment of pleasure to end, but nevertheless thinking 
all the time of rushing back to Terry's house and 
rubbing myself to a hasty climax under the bed clothes 
before going to sleep. 

On one occasion I did it in the cinema toilets, such 
was the intensity of my excitement that evening. The 
urge was so strong that I just couldn't wait, and so 
during the publicity I excused myself, almost ran to 
the toilets, where in very short time I was locked in a 
cubicle, had my trousers and Y-Fronts down to my ankles 
and was rubbing my swollen organ, whispering Alice's 
name and ejaculating powerfully into the w.c. pot. 

Washing my hands for fear of anyone smelling the odour 
of my sex, then returning to the cinema flushed, but 
the colour of my cheeks unseen in the dark, I settled 
back into my seat next to Alice, my arm back against 
hers on the armrest between us. Breathing deeply her 
scent, before too long my young penis was filling up 
once again. Paradise resumed. 

And so our weekends and holidays took shape, the 
seasons came and went, and I spent all the time 
possible at Terry's house. My mother began to refer to 
me as the prodigal son, which amused everybody at home. 
But these were delirious days for me, and my mother 
even remarked, not unhappily, how well behaved I was, 
and how the food bill seemed reduced since Terry and I 
had been pals. And how quiet it seemed at weekends; 
Carol was happy to see me out of the way, calming at 
least for two days and two nights a week the 
competitiveness which always exists between siblings 
when they are young. I sometimes wondered if my father 
even noticed, as he said very little, whether I was 
there or not. My mother said he was pleased that I was 
doing well at school, that's all.

Then, the following Spring, something quite unexpected 
happened at Terry's house, which would change my life 
forever. 

It was a warm Saturday morning in late Spring, with 
clear blue skies and Summer temperatures already, in 
early June, the kind of balmy day we used to get way 
back then. Terry and I came down for breakfast late as 
usual, lightly dressed in shorts and short-sleeved 
shirts, ready for an active day, though our precise 
activities hadn't yet been formulated. I heard Alice's 
humming before we even got to the bottom of the stairs, 
and there she was floating hypnotically around the 
kitchen. I loved her neck, watched her mouth move with 
her singing a few broken lines of 'Things', one of 
Darin's older hits. Funny how songs often stick in your 
memory, remind you of important days or events in your 
life. Our bowls of cereal were ready and we tucked in. 

As ever, I followed Alice's movements across the 
kitchen, in and out of the verandah, hoping to see the 
outlines of her body against the light coming through 
the glass. I was not disappointed; it was a brilliantly 
sunny morning, and the whole kitchen and verandah were 
flooded with brightness. I was able to see secretly 
every curve, every outline of underwear and body under 
her light cotton summer dress. Even better, the dress 
left her arms bare, was a little lower cut than usual, 
and as she bent over the table to place our toast and 
tea, I caught a glimpse of the sensual upper curve of 
her breasts for the very first time. 

It was the best opportunity yet to lose myself in my 
fantasies, and of course I was harder than ever under 
my shorts and Y-Fronts. Luckily my significant bulge 
was well out of sight under the table; now and again, 
when Alice's back was turned and Terry wasn't looking 
my way, I would let my hand slip below to give my 
favourite toy a rub or a squeeze, whilst gazing at 
Alice's lovely bum cheeks, but mostly I just fidgeted, 
enjoying the friction of my underpants against my 
straining organ and the subsequent tingling sensation 
as it throbbed. Had we stayed there all morning, I'm 
sure I could have come in my Y-Fronts without more 
effort than that, the fidgeting and the constant 
friction, and the vision of loveliness before my young 
eyes.

As our rapid consumption of buttered toast began to 
slow down and our tea mugs were drained empty, Alice 
asked Terry to go get some more bread from the shop, 
insisting that otherwise, there would not be enough for 
our lunch packs later. We couldn't, after all run 
ourselves ragged all day without food. He made a face 
hopeless of reluctance, so Alice swept up behind him 
and tousled his hair in her teasing way and squeezed 
his neck hard, so that he ducked his head and squirmed 
under her hand. I thought, longingly: "I wish that was 
me she was touching."

After a moment of mock resistance, Terry got up from 
the table, Alice pressed a few coins into his hand and 
playfully tickled his ribs all the way to the verandah 
door. Then Terry said: "Come on, let's go Anthony." I 
made a lame excuse that I was going up to brush my 
teeth or some such, so Terry went alone to the shop. I 
think he was for an instant probably Armin Hary or 
Peter Radford en route to an impossible ten seconds 
dead 100 metres, the way he took off from his blocks 
that morning, but I forgot to ask him later. In no time 
at all he was out of the verandah and out of sight.

It was not brushing my teeth I had in mind, though - 
not straight away. After watching the outline of 
Alice's wispy underwear, her breasts and bum move under 
her dress against the light of the kitchen and 
verandah, my aroused organ required urgent attention. I 
couldn't wait to get up to the bedroom I shared with 
Terry and take advantage of his absence to masturbate 
privately, such had these amazing images stimulated my 
brain and penis during the last half hour. 

I calculated I had at least fifteen minutes to complete 
the operation – more than enough, in my state of 
tumescence. Excusing myself rapidly, despite the 
impediment under my shorts, I was Lynn (the Leap) 
Davies as I sped upstairs, twenty six feet 5Ύ inches 
exactly, and ran panting into the bedroom, dropping my 
shorts to my ankles and kicking them off as soon as I 
closed the door. My hardness sprung free and up, as I 
dragged off my Y-Fronts and shirt and threw them onto 
the thick carpeted floor near my bed. 

The cool air on my hot, sweaty genitals made me feel 
exceptionally excited, and I immediately took myself in 
hand. I was already rubbing the full length of my 
bulging-veined penis, thinking of Alice and her 
delectable body and the slope of her neck and her pale 
bare arms, and the curve of her real breasts that I had 
seen for the first time a short while ago.

I had to stop the friction as I dropped to my knees, 
fumbled under my bed and pulled out our only copy of a 
well-abused Playboy magazine. With my erection curved 
out and up, rigid and bobbing up and down, I padded 
over to the washbasin in the corner near the French 
window and looked at myself in the mirror above it. For 
a second or two I admired my young muscular frame, 
which I knew to be more developed than most boys of my 
age, with its adolescent hairs here and there, 
especially in the pubic region. I opened the magazine 
at a page which showed a colour picture of a blonde 
with the largest, big-nippled breasts in the whole 
edition and stood it up against the mirror, behind the 
taps so that it wouldn't tumble over. 

I gazed at my pumped up teenage penis, imagined that it 
was the longest, the fattest and hardest, and the most 
potent in the universe, as it waved up proudly and 
throbbing, waiting for the attention which I had 
promised it a few moments before. I imagined what I 
might do with this indestructible weapon, if I had the 
opportunity to abuse a real woman like Alice. I lusted 
after those paper breasts in the Playboy magazine, and 
started to rub, too hard, too quickly. Too quickly, I 
needed to slow down, appreciate to the maximum the 
privacy and the intimacy I was sharing both with this 
unreal specimen of American printed fantasy womanhood 
and, in my head, with the most perfect of all best 
friends' mothers. 

I slowed my pace – after all I had time before Terry 
would reappear. As I rubbed more lazily my turgid tool, 
my eyes closed, and I concentrated now on the image of 
the slender, adorable frame of Alice. But she was 
clothed; how I would love to see Alice in the same 
state of undress as this anonymous American pinup with 
bloated balloons. Alice with her flawless slim frame 
and grapefruit breasts, her perfectly rounded bum and 
long legs. Maybe even peek at her hairy sex triangle, 
something I had never seen, not in a magazine, not 
anywhere except sketched in school biology books. 
Playboy magazine didn't even show wisps of pubic hair 
in those days.

I rubbed and I rubbed, slowly and with a lightness of 
touch now dedicated to Alice, and I began to whisper 
her name over and over, trying to imagine that her 
fingers had replaced mine. Moisture oozed generously 
from the eye of my cock. Now and again, I opened my 
eyes, looking at my hand stroking the length of my 
organ, then casting my eyes over the large breasts 
before me in the magazine. I turned a page with my 
other hand, now saw the first afro-american Playgirl, 
coffee coloured breasts, big black bulging nipples, 
then eyes closed, back to Alice. My heart was beating 
fast. 

I gripped my fist around the length of my cock, placed 
my thumb against the engorged end, smoothed the 
glistening pre-cum around the head as I pumped, 
tingling with anticipation of my climax. I scratched 
the fingers of my free hand underneath my tightening 
balls, and I knew I couldn't hold out for long. Then 
something caught the corner of my eye. A movement.

I turned my head to the French window, and there was 
Alice. 

Watering can in hand, her light cotton dress fluttered 
around her calves in a slight breeze, and she was 
bending over a pot of geraniums just outside, on the 
balcony top of the iron staircase. In that second or 
two, towering over her, I saw more of her breasts than 
I had been able to see at breakfast, and despite my 
embarrassment and the panic which was now beginning to 
bang in my chest, an intense throb jerked my penis 
within my fist, and I mentally photographed an image of 
those soft globes. They were real, not paper.

Alice jumped slightly as if startled to realise there 
was someone beside her, just the other side of the 
glass; her head suddenly turned towards me and water 
spilled from her watering can, missing the geranium pot 
over which she was bent and showering her pretty bare 
feet. I was caught. 

Time seemed to stand still. She ignored her sopping 
feet, straightened up unbearably slowly, and without 
moving, looked expressionless into my eyes, then down 
at my crotch, which I could not hide; even with my hand 
around its length, an inch or two of my penis were 
still visible and there was no way to make that 
disappear instantly from view. Her mouth opened, her 
brow furrowed perceptibly, producing a puzzled 
expression on her face. 

I was well and truly caught. My chest thudded, the 
blood rushed to my face and head. I saw that Alice's 
eyes were wide, her cheeks became flushed. Mine were 
even redder than hers, I was sure. 

Alice half smiled, moved towards the French window, 
raised her free hand, as though waving hello or 
goodbye, I wasn't sure what the gesture meant. She 
dropped her hand onto the iron door handle, at the same 
instant placing the trembling watering can on the iron 
balcony and treating me to yet another glimpse of those 
pale, smooth orbs.

All thought of spurting my semen into the washbasin, 
dedicating my young seed to my friend's mother and to 
American breasthood, were now instantly forgotten. I 
came out of my quasi-hypnotic state and headed at 
almost a leap out of Alice's range of vision to the 
safety of my bed, grabbing the nearest thing, my Y-
Fronts, from the floor as I sped. I was not fast 
enough, I had triple jumped in slow motion action 
replay. The door of the French windows opened inwards 
and Alice was in the room, barely six feet from the 
bed, before I had time to slip the Y-Fronts over my 
feet. 

At a loss as to what I could possibly do to salvage the 
situation and my dignity, I dropped my naked buttocks 
down on the bed, clutching my underpants to my penis, 
which was slowly draining itself of blood, and closed 
my knees together. My heart and head were beating hard 
and loud with pure and perfect panic. 

No words came out, my brain raced, searching for 
something to say. I saw that Alice was flushed. My head 
was down, I was fidgeting, squirming even, vainly 
trying to cover myself. I turned slightly sideways, 
towards the wall. And I wanted to disappear, knowing 
that there was nothing I could do to make the clock go 
backwards. 'What is done cannot be undone', my mother 
words echoed in my guilty subconscious.

I knew that Alice had to be looking down at me in 
extreme anger from just six feet away, and I was frozen 
to the bed with fear and shame. I heard her breathing. 

All I could think of saying say was: "Sssssooo..." But 
she cut me short, hardly had I opened my mouth. 

I heard her breathing. "Don't say anything" she said, 
quietly, very calmly, too calmly it seemed to me, in 
the circumstances. "It's alright, Anthony. Don't say a 
word."

Even now, here, in these few moments which would 
probably be the most embarrassing, terrible moments of 
my young life, to hear her say my name and those 
soothing words was just magical; my heart leapt, 
continued to beat hard and fast against my rib cage.

I tried again: "But, I'm..."

Again she cut me short with a "Ssshhhh..." 

Up to now, she had stayed by the French window to my 
left, not moving, and I was there seated on the bed, 
half turned away from her, my head down, wishing I was 
invisible, or somewhere else – at the shop with Terry, 
playing football, at home, in detention punishment at 
school - dead, anywhere but here.

Then Alice moved, as though in ice-skating slow motion, 
towards me. Still looking down, I saw out of the corner 
of my eye her bare, dripping feet and ankles glide 
noiselessly across the carpet and come to rest only 
inches from mine. Then she sat down beside me, half 
turned in my direction, facing my trembling bare back 
and shoulders. 

The bed dipped slightly with her weight, bounced and 
settled, and I felt the lightness of her cotton dress 
flutter against my sweating skin. Her cool, soft hand 
came up to my shoulder and rested there, pulled 
slightly, as though to turn me round. I resisted, then 
complied, turning slowly my upper body towards her. We 
were now face to face, but still I did not have the 
courage to raise my thudding head, such was my youthful 
humiliation and turmoil.

Her soft voice again: "Anthony, dear, it's alright. 
Really. You musn't fret about this. There's nothing to 
be ashamed of... I'm sorry I came up the stairs at the 
wrong moment... I didn't think... I should have 
respected your privacy."

I began to stammer again, but she just said "Ssshhh... 
it's alright."

Then the most wonderful thing happened, something which 
I will treasure for the rest of my life. Without words, 
only gestures and coaxing sounds, Alice took hold of my 
scrumpled Y-Fronts, with which I had tried to cover my 
shame, and tugged them from my trembling, white-
knuckled hands. Not violently, but firmly, as though 
not prepared to allow the slightest refusal. 

I held on for a second or two, then let go of them as 
they slipped away, replaced the underpants with my 
hands, cupped together over my half engorged penis, my 
sparse pubic hairs and testicles squashed between my 
thighs. I felt more naked than ever, vulnerable and 
foolish. Alice then leaned over and took both my hands 
in hers, her soft, pale, cool woman's hands with long 
slender fingers and short, manicured nails, pulling my 
hot fists away from my pubes and holding them up 
between us at breast level. 

Letting go with one hand for a moment, she placed a 
palm on the side of my face, slid a couple of fingers 
under my chin, and raised my head so that she was able 
to look into my eyes for the first time since our 
encounter at the French window. I was flushed, there 
must have been a frightened and embarrassed look in my 
eyes, but I noticed an incredible kindness in hers, a 
softness to treasure, then a curious, delicate smile on 
her mouth. 

I heard her breathing, smelled her fragrance, and 
although her dark brown magnetic eyes held mine, I was 
aware of the closeness of her pale, swanlike neck, and 
the swell of her breasts just below, rising and 
falling. In any other such circumstances, any other 
moment in my life, I would have been several feet off 
the ground to have Alice so close to me and holding my 
face and hands.

Hesitating only a few seconds, her one hand stroking my 
cheek, her other hand dropped into my lap, very 
delicately coming to rest palm down on my half engorged 
penis. Closing her fingers over my semi-erect organ, 
she squeezed it ever so lightly and lifted it up, 
turned her hand around until it was underneath, fingers 
extended, with the head of my sex in her palm.

I gasped as she closed her fingers again around my cock 
and squeezed delicately, and despite my confused state 
of mind, my hardness began to return very quickly, my 
growing stalk soon filled her hand and reached a state 
of considerable rigidity. The head of my cock was 
already moist, and became more moist with each passing 
second, as more pre-cum dribbled from its enlarged 
hole. Not knowing what to do with them, my own hands 
remained together motionless, raised up between her 
cotton covered grapefruit breasts and my own smooth, 
bare, thumping chest. I shivered.

Alice leaned her head to one side slightly, looked down 
at her hand and my penis within it, squeezed again ever 
so gently, then more firmly, and began to move her hand 
in a measured back and forth movement, the swollen head 
nudging her now moist, soft palm. My chest was 
hammering harder than ever. Her scent filled my head.

I thought I heard her breathe something like "Handsome" 
but it was faint. Despite my fear, my embarrassment and 
humiliation of the last few minutes, my excitement was 
total, and with the manual attention Alice was now 
giving my penis, hardly any pressure was needed to 
bring me to a complete, pulsating erection; I knew that 
I would soon be ready to ejaculate. As she watched her 
hand gently and unhurriedly rubbing my swollen, blood 
engorged hardness, my eyes were drawn naturally to her 
adorable neck and down into the top of her dress and 
the curves of her breasts; rising and falling faster 
now, it seemed she was almost panting. I wanted to kiss 
that neck, those soft globes of female flesh, but I was 
frozen. 

There was nothing I could do to stop this unplanned, 
unreal and unmerited but intensely pleasurable and 
exciting episode in my life. I deserved to go to hell, 
and would have gone there willingly in exchange for 
these moments of pleasure; here I was in an 
unimaginably heavenly place and time, with a woman who 
could have been mistaken for an angel.

My breathing became rapid, and I opened my panting 
mouth, tried to speak again. But somehow Alice knew 
that I was about to explode. She looked instantly into 
my eyes, her face only inches from mine, such that I 
could feel and smell her sweet, toothpaste breath 
wafting over me. She stroked my cheek, then placed her 
fingers onto my lips, forming a soundless "Ssshhhh..." 
with her own mouth, as my legs began to tremble. 

I felt the most intense, familiar tingling in my balls, 
then it increased in intensity, lurched rapidly along 
the length of my cock to the swollen head, just before 
my semen erupted forth in a powerful jet – more 
powerful than I think I had ever experienced in my 
young life of masturbation up to that day. My rib cage 
hammered, my whole body shuddered; I gasped out loud, 
my head fell back and I closed my eyes. My hips jerked 
up, forward and back spontaneously, as my cock pulsed 
and throbbed again and again discharging its load, 
Alice kept her extended fingers firmly closed around 
the length of my pulsating cock, twisted her hand 
slightly and caught all the juice I had to offer in her 
palm. 

I wanted this climax to go on forever; as it was, it 
seemed like a long time. My clenched hands separated 
and dropped down, falling quite naturally and without 
premeditation onto Alice's waist. I pressed my palms up 
against her rib cages, then down against her hips. My 
eyes opened, and still trembling in my lower body, I 
looked down into her cleavage again, up to her face, 
then to where her hand continued to clasp me and where 
now her finger and thumb were squeezing the pulsating 
head of my organ. Each tiny squeeze caused another 
eruption of pleasure at the end of my cock and a jerk 
of my lower body, and sent more seminal fluid seeping 
out, until every drop was drained from me. 

As I panted wordlessly, she held my cock for a while 
longer, gently, lovingly I thought, without pressure, 
just holding it delicately and occasionally stroking it 
with her open fingers. Some of the seminal liquid 
dripped from her hand and began to run down onto my 
testicles, but Alice seemed unconcerned, just watching 
the thick, white slippery substance as though she was 
genuinely fascinated by its phenomenal quantity, as 
though pondering secretly its life-giving qualities. 
Eyes sparkling, she looked up into mine, then down at 
her hand again, a beautiful, relaxed, reassuring smile 
on her soft face. 

I will never forget that smile, and I knew instantly 
that I would love Alice for the rest of my days.

She let out a sigh, and this time I heard the word 
clearly: "Lovely...." I was still breathing hard as 
ever; I think tears formed in my eyes, I was so totally 
overwhelmed with pleasure and joy from sharing these 
treasured seconds of my youth with Alice.

Neither of us said anything for a few moments. Then, 
letting go of my deflating penis, disengaging her waist 
from my hands, Alice stood up unhurriedly, holding her 
cupped, semen filled hand raised in front of her. I 
watched her bare feet on the carpet, her hips swaying 
as she glided over to the washbasin, the scene of my 
initial humiliation and the turning point of my young 
life. She rinsed that one hand under the tap for a 
while, watched the water flowing over her fingers as if 
in a daze, as though contemplating the earth shattering 
significance of her recent act, then seemed to snap out 
of it and quickly washed both her hands with soap. As 
she did so, I watched her bend over and appear to look 
closely at the Playboy magazine still propped up behind 
the taps, still open at the page with the coffee 
coloured breasts. From across the room I 
surreptitiously admired her adorable bum, hips and 
shapely calves as she did this. 

The, straightening up, drying her hands on a small 
towell, she looked into 

the mirror, into my reflected eyes and her face lit up 
with a wonderful, wide mouthed smile, teeth glistening 
in the light from the French windows. A different kind 
of smile: the fun smile I had seen so many times when 
she was around the house during my visits, especially 
when she was teasing Terry. 

She put down the towell, picked up the Playboy, turned 
around to where I was still sitting on the bed, silent 
and motionless, drained and entranced by what had just 
happened to me. She leaned back slightly, her bum 
resting against the washbasin.

Closing the Playboy and holding it up at shoulder level 
and waving it, the pages flickering noisily, she looked 
directly into my face, still fun-smiling and said 
quietly: " Perhaps you won't need this now, Anthony."

Still in shock, but my breathing and heartbeat 
beginning to calm down a little, I held her gaze, shook 
my head and smiled shyly, like a schoolboy who had just 
been scolded, then let out an embarrassed laugh, 
looking down again. My hands had found their way back 
to my crotch, to cover my shrunken penis and balls, and 
the now cold residue of seminal fluid upon them.

I imagined Alice's eyes following mine down to where I 
was looking, then my gaze returned to find hers again. 
I was aware of a few magical moments, where Alice stood 
calmly, unspeaking, looking down at me, smiling into my 
eyes, and I looked up at her with what she could only 
have interpreted as total adolescent love and 
adoration. She opened her mouth to speak and her body 
leaned towards me. I thought she was going to sit down 
beside me again, but then we both heard, at the same 
instant, Terry's panting and his slapping footsteps 
arriving downstairs at the verandah entrance. Maybe he 
was Peter Snell right then, just winning another 800 
metres race by a street.

Alice and I leapt, simultaneously into wordless action. 
I was on my feet in a second. Alice slipped across to 
smile into my eyes, caress my cheek one last time with 
a cool, freshly washed hand, wafting the odour of Lux 
toilet soap into my nostrils, before spinning around 
and leaving the bedroom the way she had come in, 
pulling the door of the French windows silently closed 
behind her. I wanted to touch her, kiss her, caress her 
adorable neck, anything. I wanted to tell her how I 
felt, garble my eternal love for her.

But she was gone in less than a heartbeat. Naked, I 
strode over to the French windows and watched her back, 
her hand on the rail, her long pale neck, and the flow 
of her cotton summer dress flutter across her strong, 
shapely legs and hips, as she descended the iron 
staircase like a light footed athlete, two steps at a 
time into the garden below. She could have been Mary 
Rand, but she was the greatest love of my young life.

By the time Terry had put the loaf of fresh bread on 
the kitchen worktop, had searched downstairs for me and 
his mother, and finding no-one, had bounded 
breathlessly up the stairs to the bedroom we shared, I 
was dressed and brushing my teeth. I tried to be 
relaxed and calm, though my mind and heart were 
spinning in turmoil. I had just experienced something 
which was, at my tender age, nothing less than 
incredible. An event beyond any of my adolescent 
imaginings, which could have taken place only somewhere 
in my wildest fantasies, before that totally life-
transforming day in summer. 

Only a few minutes before, I had felt extremes of 
sexual pleasure at the hands of the most beautiful 
woman on earth. This was something I knew I couldn't, 
and never would, share with my best friend Terry, the 
son of that same most beautiful woman on earth.


Part Two – Summer

After that incident with Alice, with the mother of my 
best friend Terry, my sexual and emotional life changed 
dramatically and permanently. I felt that I was 
suddenly growing up fast. And I was totally and 
unconditionally and forever in love with Alice.

Before that day, Alice had been a beautiful fantasy, a 
mature mother, adored by her son's friend, but 
unattainable. A kind of dreamlike beauty floating 
before my eyes, totally out of reach except in my 
wildest imaginings. Now, suddenly she seemed within my 
grasp, though my youthful head and heart still didn't 
know how that might be achieved. But it didn't stop my 
heart and body wanting Alice, nor my head thinking 
about ultimate fulfillment with her; it was what seemed 
like the Holy Grail as I look back now, many years 
later. 

I wanted to be with her, love her, possess her, marry 
her. Make her my own.

It didn't matter that she was a real grown up and I was 
only a school kid of eighteen, merely a young adult; it 
didn't matter that she was Terry's mother. I felt sure, 
in my immature way, that my pal would understand. He 
knew nothing, of course, nothing of what had happened 
between us, about the day when his beloved mother took 
me in hand and gave me the most powerful sexual 
experience of my young life. And for now I couldn't 
even begin to discuss it with him. But how I wanted to 
say something, to share my very mixed but sincere 
emotions with my best friend – like we shared almost 
everything else.

From her side, Alice behaved for a time as though 
nothing had occurred between us. Even if I had been 
able to find the courage, even if there happened to be 
a moment of privacy when I could speak to her, it would 
have been a major step for me, to bring the matter up. 
It was especially difficult, since Terry and I were 
almost always together. It seemed that I would never be 
alone with Alice again in the same way as had happened 
by chance that Saturday morning in Spring. My gut ached 
for her.

Each time I spent my weekends and school breaks at 
Terry's house, I arrived with anticipation, 
trepidation, with trembling legs and thudding chest, 
not to mention my twitching penis. Just thinking about 
Alice, wherever I was, at home, at school, anywhere, 
made my heart beat faster, brought on rapid sexual 
excitement. 

My penis reacted spontaneously to the vaguest thought 
of her slim body, her long elegant legs, her grapefruit 
sized breasts, the pale cleavage I had just once, and 
once only gazed upon and smelled from very close. And 
that's what was happening every day now, from morning 
to night. Her soft hands, which had stroked my face and 
massaged my young penis to delightfully intense 
ejaculation, were constantly in my mind. I was lost in 
love, and didn't know what to do next. Except to 
celebrate my love for Alice by indulging in frequent 
masturbation.

At night, every night, I couldn't sleep until I had 
relived those few minutes of Alice's gentle 
ministrations to my turgid penis. I held my cock the 
way she did, turning my hand around so that the bulbous 
head rested in my palm, my fingers stretched along the 
length of it and rubbing ever so delicately, like she 
had. And then, eyes closed, whispering Alice's name, I 
would come quickly, spurting hard into my own hand, 
imagining it was Alice's woman's hand.

I went to sleep thinking about her. I woke up thinking 
about her. When I awoke, I was hard again – for Alice.

I lived for the weekends I would spend at Terry's 
house. I had my best friend, our sport and fun 
together, and I had Alice, focus of all my youthful 
affection and unbridled but secret desire.

From Alice's side, there was only one change in all 
this, but it was a very important change.

When we were at Terry's house, at table, and Alice was 
floating around us serving food and spoiling us as 
usual, she occasionally touched me. It was almost 
nothing, but it made my heart leap and my already hard 
cock jerk too. She had the habit of ruffling Terry's 
hair quite often, or squeezing his neck, causing him to 
duck his head and wriggle. 

One day, following some ribald remark or other she 
ruffled our hair, Terry's and mine at the same time. It 
was a giant leap forward for me, and my chest swelled 
up with hope and anticipation. I couldn't help smiling 
with inner pride. It was the first time I had felt her 
soft hand on me since that earth shattering day a few 
weeks before when her palm had received my seminal 
fluid and her fingers had squeezed the head of my 
youthful penis for the last time, milking the residual 
drops of liquid and pleasure from me.

***

I waited impatiently for the next occasion she would 
touch me, and it became a ritual, each time we were at 
table; it was enough to just to say something amusing, 
make her laugh, and the teasing began. And 
occasionally, the touching.

Spring slipped away, and as we drifted into summer and 
towards the end of school term, I began to think about 
getting a job, once the exams were finished. Terry and 
I had both been doing pretty well at school, 
academically and in sport. Terry, the cleverer of us 
two was already planning to stay on and continue his 
studies at college or university, but I'd had enough; I 
wanted to get out of school, work, earn money, to be a 
grown-up, so I began to search for opportunities and 
careers.

During this period of balmy summer weather that was now 
beginning, Terry and I carried on spending our leisure 
time together, but on the sporting level, we both 
gradually and separately channelled our energies into 
specialist events - prompted by the looming school 
sports competition and the desire to prove that we were 
the best. We were strong, fit, fast; we could have done 
anything, any event, and done it well, but we were keen 
to impress everyone, especially the girls around us at 
school. So we elected to go for specialist training and 
intense practise, each in his own event. To show the 
world that we were winners, perhaps future champions, 
we worked hard at being the best.

Terry, one of the best runners in school over 440 yards 
or more, concentrated hard on his running and I went 
for high jump. I was good over sprints, but I knew that 
there were one or two who might have the edge on the 
big day, so I worked on weights at the local gym to 
improve my leg strength, and on jumping technique. In 
those days, western roll was the main style taught at 
school, but for a while I had been watching the 
technique of the veteran Russian, Valery Brumel and 
others, and managed to acquire a neat straddle which I 
knew would allow me to improve my heights. 

The newly developed and much discussed technique which 
eventually became known as the 'Fosbury Flop' was out 
of the question, since the school had no super-soft 
landing pads like those at international venues. We 
couldn't risk breaking our necks falling headfirst into 
a sandpit. But with my fast improving straddle, barring 
accidents, muscle injury or nervous technical errors, I 
knew I could win the senior high jump, even if there 
were others older than me in the frame for the title. I 
was going to pass the six foot barrier, and I would one 
day be the new British hope in high jumping, much 
needed after so many years without a true world 
champion. I believed it.

Exams were finished, I was feeling confident about 
forthcoming results, and as the end of school term 
approached and the school sports day rushed upon us, I 
felt really good about my training. And, following one 
or two successful interviews for jobs, I was more and 
more self-assured about my future.

I was also feeling more confident around girls of my 
age.

I had started seeing Susan, who was a student in the 
same year during this period. My head and my heart were 
full of Alice, but more and more, Susan began to figure 
in my adolescent thoughts. Slowly but surely, my focus 
on Alice was dragged away at odd times by Susan's 
existence. She was slim and willowy, with frizzy brown 
hair and I found her really pretty, with her deep brown 
eyes, her small nose and generous mouth, a great smile. 

We first started talking properly during a school 
outing, when we found ourselves sitting together on the 
coach for two and a half hours on the outward journey. 
During the ride our arms brushed, and I was reminded of 
those visits to the cinema with Terry and his mother, 
when the pressure of Alice's arm was enough to trigger 
off my throbbing erection in the darkened salle. Susan 
and I got on so well, that I for one was disappointed 
when the first part of the day came to an end and we 
were obliged to leave the coach for lunch, a castle 
tour followed by a nature ramble in separate groups.

Later, at the end of a long afternoon, weary from our 
walking, Susan and I quite naturally and spontaneously 
linked again up and settled down in the coach, side by 
side for the return journey. Seeing her gorgeous open 
smile as she flopped into her seat ahead of me, I had 
the feeling that she was as pleased to see me as I was 
to see her. I had noticed for the first time too, her 
tiny waist and pert bum under her school summer dress, 
as she mounted the steps to the coach.

Despite my 'experience' with Alice, I had a long way to 
go before finding real confidence and total ease with 
girls. But I soon felt pretty relaxed with Susan, and 
we were able to find lots of things to talk about – 
mostly about school, about studying, and about sport. 
Susan was in the school netball team, and I had noticed 
her before, on the school netball court during matches. 
She was not a bad player at all, despite being small, 
and her slim shapely legs impressed me, outdoors in 
sharp cold weather which made her flesh pink. The nice 
thing about watching the girls play netball was seeing 
real female legs and thighs, those parts which were 
usually well covered inside school, revealed as they 
jumped and ran and their sports skirts flew up in the 
draught. 

And watching all those multiple bouncing, pouting 
breasts on their nubile adolescent bodies, especially 
when it was cold, when we could actually make out their 
hard budding nipples underneath their sports blouses. 
There was always a good crowd of gawping young male 
spectators for the girl's events, whatever the sport.

During the return ride from that school day out, I was 
enjoying the touch of Susan's arm against mine as we 
unconsciously sat closer, and I couldn't help feeling 
more than a little tumescent. As the journey 
progressed, the conversation between Susan and me 
gradually slowed down, tiredness and the rhythm of the 
coach finally took over to the extent that her eyes 
closed and she nodded off. Within minutes, her arm 
pressed harder against mine, and her head dropped 
gently down onto my shoulder. She was breathing deeply. 
I felt like I was on the first few hesitant steps to a 
new and very different heaven, and it felt great. 

I thought of Alice, because recently, every time I had 
an erection, it was Alice that I thought of. Now, I had 
a very different kind of female alongside me. A lot 
younger, pretty too, but inexperienced, I guessed. 
There was no odour of woman's perfume this time, no 
caressing mother's hands, no cleavage to look at. Only 
the beginnings of breasts just visible under Susan's 
school dress, a vague scenty soap-smell, and the soft 
cheek of a pleasing schoolgirl pressing onto my 
shoulder. But it was enough to cause the blood to flow 
into the veins of my penis and awaken the kind of 
desire that Alice had done so very often, whether she 
had been around me or not

My natural instinct would have been to masturbate, had 
it been possible there. For the moment, I just enjoyed 
this novel feeling of being with a girl of my own age, 
and being sexually stimulated by her presence, the 
pressure of her head on my shoulder and the rhythm of 
her breathing. I closed my eyes, leaned back and 
enjoyed the moment and the throbbing in my penis all 
scrunched up in my Y-Fronts, before eventually finding 
it necessary to un-scrunch it slyly, and allow the 
blood to flow properly through the whole length of my 
now solid penis.

The coach arrived, finally at school. Susan woke up, 
and we all hurriedly gathered our things together to 
descend from the coach and go home. I loitered timidly 
outside, waiting for Susan to appear and managed to 
find the courage to ask her if she wanted to meet one 
day after school. To my delight, she smiled a huge 
smile and, with heart beating fast, I suggested a walk 
in the park the following Monday.

That weekend, I was staying at Terry's house. Alice's 
house. 

As usual, I was pre-occupied by the presence of Terry's 
mother and her amazing beauty, as she did everything 
for us – meals and so on. And as usual, I had an 
erection almost permanently whilst she was in the room, 
even when she was not. At night, before going to sleep, 
notwithstanding Terry's presence in his own bed 
alongside me, I couldn't stop myself from masturbating 
deliciously under the sheets, images of Alice obsessing 
my imagination, fuelled by my strong souvenirs of that 
interlude, which seemed so long ago but so fresh in my 
memory. But at the same time, tiny thoughts of Susan 
began to creep into the fantasy.

That weekend, Alice announced with a big smile that she 
was going to re-decorate the spare bedroom. The room in 
question had been, it seemed, a total disgrace for a 
few years, full of unused stuff, old furniture, Terry's 
old toys from way back, a 'glory hole' as Alice called 
it. Now was the time to clear it out completely and 
make it into a proper guest bedroom, she declared.

And I was to be the first guest in the new guest 
bedroom.

I was bowled over by this sudden announcement. I was to 
have my own bedroom at Terry's – Alice's house! My mind 
simply boggled. My own private bedroom, my own 
washbasin, my own wardrobe. My own personal space. This 
meant first, that I could masturbate in complete 
privacy as often as I liked, without having to think 
about Terry being in the same room. I allowed my 
imagination to run a lot further than that. I began to 
have fantasies of sharing my new bedroom with Alice, 
long nights of passion with the object of my eternal 
desire, though I knew that was remote from reality, 
young and fanciful as I was. 

Whatever might happen next, it was the most amazing 
news I could have imagined, and I welcomed it with the 
enthusiasm of any sex-driven youth. I readily agreed to 
give them a hand and make a start the following weekend 
on clearing out the room.

The following Monday, I met Susan for the first time 
after school. It was a shy, hesitant meeting at first, 
and we continued talking as we had done on the coach 
during the school excursion, learning bits about each 
other. But this time, after an hour of strolling in the 
park near where she lived, I hesitantly took her hand 
in mine. To my surprise and pleasure, she didn't pull 
her hand back; she squeezed my hand and smiled up at 
me. I knew it was going to be alright, and my penis was 
very hard in no time at all, holding her tiny, soft 
hand for the first time. I was so hard, and so quickly 
in fact, that my foreskin was pulled back against the 
cloth of my Y-Fronts, exposing my head of my uncovered 
prick to a sharp and uncomfortable friction.

I tried to walk normally, which wasn't easy. We walked 
and talked, and finally drifted towards a park bench 
where we sat, holding hands. Before sitting, I managed 
to turn away from Susan and re-arrange my now throbbing 
erection in my Y-Fronts, and ease the discomfort. I 
knew that the next move was up to me, but it took me a 
while to build up the courage. Step one: my arm slipped 
around Susan's back and onto her shoulder. I didn't 
need to pull her close; she fell against my arm and 
side and turned her face towards mine, chin raised up. 
Kissing was okay, I thought.

And kiss we did. For the very first time I tasted a 
serious kiss with a girl. I say 'tasted' because there 
was a strawberry taste to her soft lips, which I 
couldn't help noticing immediately. Strawberry 
flavoured lipstick. And toothpaste very faintly behind 
it. Our lips met. Hers were so soft, so pliant, and we 
pressed forward in our inexperienced way, moving our 
mouths in debutant circles, enjoying this new step 
forward into adulthood. The idea of pushing my tongue 
into her mouth did not occur to me, nor the idea of 
searching for her young breasts with my hands. Lack of 
knowledge again, about the art of kissing and the rest. 
But it was most enjoyable, this first time, and my cock 
was straining against the cloth of my Y-Fronts inside 
my summer trousers. I was afraid the bulge would be 
visible, but Susan's eyes were closed and her 
concentration was solely on the kiss, which neither of 
us seemed to want to break. It went on and on, and my 
throbbing went on and on.

Finally we separated for air, and Susan's head dropped 
back onto my shoulder; we were both breathing a little 
harder. It was a good feeling. I couldn't help 
wondering, even at this special moment, how it would be 
to kiss Alice. Then the thought went away, as I heard 
Susan say: "That was nice Tony." Then her head came 
back up, and we looked into each other's eyes for a 
while, both smiling.

I replied timidly: "Yes, that was nice Susan." My head 
dipped again, our mouths came together, and we kissed 
some more. As we did so, I increased the pressure of my 
lips against hers, moved my mouth in bigger circles, 
showing more passion than before. Susan responded 
accordingly, pressed back and even moaned slightly, 
which I took to be approval. This time the kiss was 
even better, and when we broke, we were both 
breathless. I wanted badly to ejaculate.

As the kissing progressed, remembering Alice's fingers 
on my cheek, I placed my hand on Susan's face and 
stroked it very lightly, which she seemed to like; her 
arm slipped across my belly and around my waist and she 
pulled me towards her a little, squeezed gently. I was 
afraid her arm would touch my nearly vertical penis and 
she would realise what state I was in. Then, pressing 
closer, I felt her young, firm breast against my rib 
cage. I thought immediately of grapefruit-sized woman's 
breasts, couldn't stop myself. I could tell her breast 
was smaller than Alice's. But it didn't matter, I was 
enjoying this beginners' uncomplicated necking session 
with my first teenage love.

Each time we kissed, the embrace went on longer, until 
we were forced to break again for air; and my penis 
seemed to get harder and harder. I thought I might come 
in my pants, such was the excitement generated by those 
kisses. I stopped thinking about Alice.

Finally, Susan announced that she had to go. She was 
already late, and her parents would worry, not knowing 
why she didn't get home from school at the normal time. 
I had no such problem, as I often spent my after-school 
time with Terry and got home much later. No-one asked 
questions at our house.

We finally let go of each other, got up and walked 
together hand in hand towards her house, a short 
distance from the park. At the end of the street where 
she lived, we kissed again and parted. We knew we would 
be meeting again. And soon.

I didn't tell Terry any of this. I don't know why; I 
guess I didn't want Alice to find out and think I was 
cheating on her.

I wanted to see Susan again, and couldn't wait to talk 
to her at school, though opportunities weren't so 
frequent. But we did manage to sneak away from school 
three days later, as far as the park again during the 
lunch break. This time, our kissing was less than 
timid, as both of us began to get used to the newly 
discovered pleasure and overcome our earlier 
inhibitions sufficiently to press our young bodies 
together, standing up with my back leaning against a 
large oak tree in a quiet corner of the park. 

Our summer clothing enhanced the feeling of almost body 
against body. I knew my erection under my summer 
trousers was impossible to ignore, but Susan said 
nothing. I felt Susan's breasts pressing against my 
thin shirt covered chest through her bra and summer 
blouse. It was a delicious feeling, to hold my young 
sweetheart in my arms like this for the first time, and 
I was carried away by a sense of euphoria.

I began to think more and more now about discovering 
Susan's body.

The following weekend, Terry and I helped Alice to 
empty the 'glory hole' of all the unused stuff, so that 
she could arrange for a decorator to come and make a 
new guest bedroom of it during the following week. It 
was warm that weekend, and despite our light clothing, 
we all sweated - that is to say: Terry and I sweated 
and Alice perspired - from the effort of carting stuff 
downstairs to the garden shed, which was to be the new 
home, or glory hole, for whatever they decided to keep. 
Some was destined to be thrown out definitively, and 
lightweight stuff we were able to jettison via the 
bedroom window down to the yard below. It took a few 
hours, broken up by lunch and lots of cold drinks, 
slavishly prepared by a smiling and indefatigable 
Alice.

Watching Alice as she worked, wearing only a tee-shirt 
and shorts was a new delight for me. Her long slender 
thighs and calves were magnificent, and her neck and 
bare arms were so pale and smooth and soft; even 
covered in a light film of perspiration she was my 
dream woman. If anything, the perspiration somehow 
enhanced her sexuality. I wanted to caress her flesh 
everywhere, wanted to lick her skin from head to toe. 

I was able to see better than ever her woman's breasts 
outlined under the tee-shirt, and could just make out 
the shape of her nipples. These became more evident as 
time went on and the tee-shirt clung to her moist body. 
I struggled to contain my erection in my shorts, so 
that it wouldn't be obvious to the others. There was 
this constant throbbing of my penis, and I enjoyed the 
feeling, knowing that it was all for Alice. 

I began to get more mentally excited too, realising 
that probably the next time I came to spend the 
weekend, the room would be all mine! I was already 
anticipating my first masturbation session in my new 
bedroom, dedicated of course to Alice – and maybe just 
a little to Susan. As this thought flickered through my 
head, I realised that Susan did distract me from my 
usual and predictable fantasies. 

I was thinking of Susan more than ever, and she was 
slowly becoming part of the focus of my desires. Shared 
desires at first, but nevertheless real. And she was 
surely more accessible to me than my best friend's 
mother, Alice, could ever be. Even though I suspected 
that Susan had no experience of sex yet.

Over the two days, we finally emptied the junk room, 
leaving just bare boards and dirty walls late Sunday 
afternoon. Afterwards, we took our baths in sequence. 
The bathroom was shared, and I was first to go; I was 
well and truly ready for my first masturbation session 
of the day, having suffered a powerful erection most of 
the day drooling secretly over Alice's shimmering, 
perspiring body. 

Under instructions not to be long in the bathroom, I 
simply lay back in the warm water, soaped my cock and 
within a very short time was spurting seminal fluid 
onto my chest. The relief was wonderful, as I once 
again retreated into the reverie of Alice's hands 
caressing me. The seminal discharge was soon dissipated 
into the soap suds. As I dressed in clean shirt and 
shorts, I tried to imagine how Alice would look, 
leaning back into the bath, washing her body. I had to 
close off my mind to these imaginary pictures, or risk 
going downstairs with a visible tent under my shorts 
once again. My young cock seemed totally out of 
control. 

***

Back home later on Sunday, I spent the evening watching 
television, and I found myself once again dreaming of 
Alice in the bath, before it was time for bed and my 
last ejaculation of the weekend in her imagined and 
compliant company.

I wished the next week away. But not without stealing 
another opportunity to meet Susan in the park in the 
balmy late afternoon, my back against the same tree, to 
hold her soft, slim young body pressed to mine, to feel 
my erection against her belly and her breasts against 
my chest. My arms were wrapped around her totally, 
pulling her against me, her hands were held lightly 
against my rib cages. It was so good, the pressure of 
her body, that I wanted to come there and then against 
her, in my underpants. 

Things had to progress, I thought. Kissing Susan was 
great; feeling her soft young body against mine was 
bliss. But I wanted more.

This time, without reflecting too much about what I was 
doing, I dipped my knees slightly, almost 
instinctively, bringing my penis against Susan's lower 
belly. Then a little lower. There was no immediate 
reaction from Susan, so I dipped even lower, until my 
now rock hard cock was against her pubes. I pressed 
forward. She pulled back, tore her mouth from mine, 
making a slightly embarrassing smacking sound as our 
lips separated. Her head turned downwards and her 
forehead leaned lightly against my chest, but her lower 
body was now a foot away from mine. 

We were both breathing heavily. Neither of us said 
anything for a moment, then, I thought I ought to say 
something: "Sorry, Susan, I got a bit carried away." I 
said quietly, regretting this adolescent haste 
generated by my aching cock.

"It's okay Tony," was her simple response, then, with a 
sigh: "Maybe it's a bit soon, that's all."

We stayed that way for several minutes, her head on my 
chest and our lower bodies separated by what seemed a 
vast space. Despite my goof, I still had this terrible 
hard on, and longed to press it back against Susan's 
body again. But I held back, waiting for her next move 
or her next words. Our breathing slowed. After a while 
her head turned back up to mine. She kissed me briefly 
on the lips, and suggested we return to school now.

That was it. In modern parlance: I had blown it. Susan 
was not ready for sex, not like me. She probably didn't 
know much about sex at all, I thought – not that I knew 
a whole lot more, but at least I knew what masturbation 
was. Maybe Susan didn't even know that. Anyway, I was 
convinced she wouldn't want to see me again, and all 
the way back to school I was kicking myself inwardly 
for my clumsiness. We didn't even hold hands any more. 
My erection finally went down. 

Back at school, we went our separate ways without a 
word. I watched her walk towards the girls' cloakroom, 
but she didn't look back. 

Now, all I could do was look forward to the weekend, 
when I would get to see Terry and his mother Alice 
again.

Finally, the weekend arrived, and after school on 
Friday I ran home like I was Jim Ryun setting a new 
world record 1500m record. I knew it was possible, he 
was only a year older than me. But at the same time, I 
wondered if it would be detrimental to my high jump 
training. Anyway, after gulping down a sandwich and a 
glass of milk and grabbing my overnight duffle bag, I 
was soon on the home straight, flat out on my way to 
Terry's house and my new room.

When I got there, Alice was out shopping, but Terry was 
already home, so he showed me the room. Well, it wasn't 
finished, but it was habitable; a new carpet had been 
laid. There was still some wallpapering still to do 
around the window looking down onto the small yard 
below, but there weren't any curtains, just nets. 

Nonetheless I was just overwhelmed with joy, to see my 
new bed, my new wardrobe, my washbasin all ready to be 
used. I threw my duffle bag on the newly made bed, and 
detected a little sadness in Terry's voice as he 
explained that 'the man' was coming back next week to 
finish off the decorations. I guessed his sadness was 
probably because he had got used to having my company 
all the time in his own room. 

It was true we had had lots of fun and laughs together 
at bedtime. I thought: anyway, we would be together all 
the rest of the time as usual, except for sleeping, and 
maybe he would appreciate the privacy himself in 
future. After all, masturbation was best done in 
complete privacy, unless it could be with a girl. Or, 
in my case, with Alice. My reverie on that subject 
continued non-stop.

Later, Alice returned. Dressed in shorts and a loose 
cotton top, she looked sensational, and I was tumescent 
as soon as I heard the Morris Minor arrive on the 
driveway in front of the house. Terry and I ran to help 
her with the shopping, and straight away she asked me 
what I thought of the new bedroom. Of course, she could 
see that I was pleased, and I didn't hesitate to thank 
her for the trouble she had taken to get it ready for 
me. We all had a late tea together, before spending the 
evening watching television. 

Sitting alongside Terry on the sofa of the lounge, I 
was constantly hard, as usual, full of the urgency of 
going to my new bedroom and rubbing my aching penis, to 
make it spurt before sleep, a feeling enhanced by 
Alice's presence across from me in her armchair, her 
long, pale legs crossed before my very eyes. 
Occasionally she would look over at us and smile. 
Sometimes she would sigh, which pushed her breasts 
against her cotton top, and my cock would jerk in 
automatic reaction. I loved the feeling.

That night, it seemed that my last ejaculation before 
sleep was stronger than it had been for quite a while; 
my new bedroom created for me a new and a very special 
intimacy, as though I was sharing it with the spirit, 
if not the body, of Alice.

Saturday flew past so quickly. Alice decided we should 
all go to the cinema on Saturday evening, and it was 
then that something new happened, which gave me hope 
again that Alice would one day be mine.

It was during the film, in the dark, towards the end of 
the main feature, that Alice's hand somehow dropped 
onto my knee. I wasn't expecting it; it made me start. 
At first, I thought it was an accident. Her hand just 
very, very lightly dropped onto my knee, just like 
that. I was wearing shorts, as the others were too. My 
tumescent cock was hard as it could be in seconds, and 
I looked down at the back of Alice's pale hand. 

I sneaked a look across at her, then further over to 
Terry on her other side, barely visible in the darkened 
salle, and it was clear that her other hand was not on 
Terry's knee. Sometimes during horror films, Alice had 
been known to grab both our arms and squeeze, but this 
was not one of those films, it was just a western. I 
was dumbstruck for a moment, and my heart beat 
incredibly fast, as I enjoyed the light pressure of 
Alice's cool, still hand on the flesh of my leg and the 
delicious throbbing in my cock. 

Her hand stayed there unmoving for several minutes and 
Alice went on watching the film, not looking one way or 
the other. Then almost imperceptibly her fingers began 
to squeeze my knee, then eased off and moved very 
slowly up along my bare thigh, palm down, fingers on 
the inside of my slightly tensed thigh muscle. Alice's 
squeezing fingers couldn't stay imperceptible for long. 
I thought I would come in my Y-Fronts if she so much as 
brushed her hand against my turgid young penis. For 
several minutes her hand moved up and down my thigh 
like that, lightly caressing and then squeezing my 
thigh, but not quite reaching the danger zone of my 
cock.

I was in heaven again. But all too soon, the film 
ended, and as the lights slowly brightened, Alice took 
her hand away, leaving me with an intense aching in my 
balls, my cock and my lower stomach. How I wanted to 
spurt again. For Alice.

As we stood up to leave the cinema, Alice turned 
towards us and gave us one of her wonderful, open 
smiles. " Did you like that?" she asked, meaning the 
film, of course. Or perhaps not. Terry and I replied 
together, affirmative, but Alice and I knew the double 
meaning of the question.

That night, my masturbation was as intense as ever; now 
I had a new fantasy in my head, new memories to relish 
and re-live.

The big day came finally. Terry and I were both ready 
for the physical trials that lay ahead; our bodies were 
honed to perfection, and we were determined to win our 
events. I had only the high jump to contend with; Terry 
the 440 and 880 yards. So Terry had a lot more to do, 
as both of his races required a lot of energy. But he 
had been training hard and felt up to the challenge.

Alice was there to cheer us both. And Susan was there 
to cheer me, I hoped, when my event began at the end of 
the afternoon.

Terry finally had mixed results. He was beaten into 
third place by two boys just that bit fleeter over the 
shorter distance. I really felt for him; he got under 
60 seconds, which was not bad on a thick turf field, 
but if you lose by a yard, you lose. And there were two 
of them in that yard. An hour later, he won the 880 
yards by a street in 2m 23s. 

After both races, Alice was there to hug him and kiss 
his cheek, making Terry's panting cheeks even redder. I 
was there to console him first time, and later share 
his joy. Seeing Alice clasp Terry to her bosom, you can 
imagine how I felt, wanting to trade places with him. 
Maybe my turn would come later, I thought, resolving to 
win the high jump or die in the attempt.

Exhausted, disappointed by his first setback but 
totally exhilarated by his later win, Terry plopped 
down on a grass bank with his mother near the high jump 
pit, and I joined them, waiting for my event to be 
called.

As the time ticked by, I was afraid of two things: 
having an erection which would impair my performance in 
this very important high jump competition because of 
Alice's close proximity. And: finally losing for any 
reason; I simply had to win, and impress Alice and 
Terry. And Susan, whom I now saw coming over towards 
the sand pit with a gang of girls from her class.

This was the last event of the day, there was nothing 
else to watch, and a mix of boredom or interest caused 
people to drift our way. A wide circle of pupils, 
teachers and families formed around the run-up fan, and 
one of the teachers had to move the circle back to 
allow us competitors enough room to make a decent 
approach to the bar

I think the stress finally made my cock lose it's 
turgidity. As I warmed up and did what we called in 
those days some 'muscle stretching' the swelling went 
away and I began to relax, feeling loose and strong, 
ready to take on the world. I felt some fear and 
excitement at the same time, knowing that in that 
buzzing, rippling crowd of people there was Alice, 
Terry and Susan. I couldn't escape the feeling that all 
of their eyes were on me; I felt at once proud and 
terrified.

We finally got the high jump under way, and during the 
competition, I missed only two clearances – one at 5 
feet 7ins, and one at 6 feet. But 5 feet 11 ins won me 
the title of School High Jump Champion (Senior), and I 
felt I was king of the world for the rest of the day. 

Alice and Terry rushed over to me together, and Alice 
threw her arms around me for the very first time ever 
and hugged me close, reaching up and kissing my cheek, 
for I was quite a few inches taller than her. The sport 
over, my young cock filled up again with the joy of 
being in Alice's embrace. I was a little sweaty, my 
arms and legs covered in builders' sand, but I didn't 
pull back; I was the hero for those few moments, and I 
savoured to the limit the feel of Alice's breasts 
pressed against my chest for the first time, like twin 
grapefruits. 

I glanced over to Susan, but she had already started to 
leave the scene of my famous victory, along with her 
friends. She looked back once, a tiny smile on her 
face, but she didn't come over to say anything to me, 
as I would have loved her to. I wasn't sure what the 
smile meant, but I hoped it left me with a chance of 
seeing her and holding her in my arms again one day.

Though dirty, tired, aching in my legs and hips, the 
results of my acrobatics as I tumbled over the bar a 
hundred times into a hard sand-filled pit, I convinced 
myself that nothing hurt any more. I smiled like a 
proverbial Cheshire cat as I headed towards the school 
building and the showers.

My real and unexpected reward for all the training and 
effort I had put in to become senior high jump champion 
was to be bestowed upon me two days later.

School was finished for the week, and once again I 
found myself with what almost now seemed like my foster 
family, for the weekend.

Saturday slipped by, and for once, Terry and I didn't 
do much physical stuff at all. We were both in our own 
separate ways in a kind of post-championship tristesse, 
mentally and physically tired. We felt like doing 
nothing at all, so the day drifted by. We sat and 
watched television; Alice fed us as usual and I watched 
her as usual, longing for her touch, which came at 
unexpected moments at table. A hand on my shoulder, a 
pat on the neck; whatever it was I welcomed it as 
though I was her lover, but not daring to reciprocate 
the affection.

 As we lazed in front of the television, Alice brought 
us drinks and cake, occasionally calling us 'champions' 
who needed to feed our bodies as well as to recharge 
the batteries for next week. She also made the odd 
remark about having all the pretty girls at school 
chasing after the new champions – which was exactly 
what we wanted, but didn't really expect.

All I wanted was Alice. Maybe Susan, if Alice was still 
impossible to have.

The following day was a stunning summer's day, of the 
kind we used to get in those days before everything was 
turned upside down, climate-wise. Alice decided we 
would all go for a picnic. So, mid-morning, Alice 
packed up all sorts of goodies, sandwiches, cakes and 
drinks in carrier bags, serviettes, some blankets and 
cushions to sit on, and we all piled into the Morris 
Minor to head off for a quiet place she knew in the 
country. 

The ride took about an hour. Alice was able to park the 
Morris about 400 yards from a fast running stream, 
where there was a small sheltered clearing, and room to 
spread out our blankets. It was a paradisiacal corner 
of the countryside, with trees all around, calm and 
wind free. We soon relaxed to appreciate the peace and 
the sunshine.

Terry and I were quickly stripped down to our shorts, 
torso bare. Alice had a bathing costume under her light 
summer dress, and after a while she slipped the dress 
off entirely, leaving her wonderful swan neck, long, 
slim arms and legs bare. The modest bathing costume was 
quite high at the front, but showed the bulge of her 
breasts to perfection, with just a hint of cleavage. 

The effect on my cock was immediate, and I had to turn 
over at first to conceal my bulge and later to unravel 
my member, scrunched up as usual, and allow it to 
expand fully. The feeling of sun on my body and being 
there in that clearing with my best friend Terry and 
his mother Alice, listening to the faint sound of fast 
flowing water below and the birds singing, was just one 
of the most perfect moments of my life up to now.

We chatted, we bantered, Terry and I made Alice laugh. 
We recounted over and over our achievements in the 
school sports, exaggerating our prowess, until we 
became almost World Champions in our own minds. And 
Alice told us again how proud she was of us, doing what 
we did in front of the whole school. We ate and drank, 
and as the afternoon slipped away, we dozed and the 
bantering slowed, then stopped.

I must have gone off to sleep, as the next thing I 
heard was Alice's voice.

"Anthony. Are you asleep, or just pretending?"

I opened my eyes groggily and looked over to where 
Alice was sitting, bare legs folded underneath her bum, 
one arm supporting her weight. The sun was behind her, 
and I could see only the dark outline of her bathing 
costume clad body against the light. I realised 
immediately that my considerable erection hadn't gone 
down whilst I dozed, and was causing a noticeable tent 
in my summer shorts. I wondered if Alice had seen it.

I realised also that Terry wasn't there.

"Oh...where's Terry?" I asked.

I sensed that Alice had been watching me whilst I 
dozed. She replied: "He wanted to go down to the 
stream, stretch his legs a bit. He spoke to you, but 
you didn't reply. I asked him not to wake you, so he 
set off by himself in the direction of the bank further 
down. He said there are some deeper pools near here. I 
think he got bored just doing nothing, needed to find 
something to do with himself. He can't be lazy for too 
long, that son of mine."

I replied again: "Oh, okay. Maybe I can catch him up."

I looked at Alice's silhouette again. Instantly, she 
sort of scooted towards me on her knees, then settled 
back onto her bum, pushing her legs out in front of 
her, slightly bent. She held out her one arm, smiled 
her wide mouthed smile, said: "Come over here and put 
you head in my lap if you want to sleep a bit more."

I didn't need asking twice. I slid over, twisted 
around, stretched my legs out again, my head resting on 
Alice's soft, bare upper thigh. I adjusted my head a 
little so that my neck and part of my shoulder touched 
her flesh. This was the next step to heaven, I thought, 
lying here with my head in Alice's lap, just inches 
from a real vagina. That's what it was called, wasn't 
it? I closed my eyes, hardly daring to breathe. My cock 
was as hard as I ever remember it being since it had 
been in Alice's long fingers, such a long time ago as 
it seemed. The monster pushed up against my shorts and 
vibrated endlessly, and I knew it was useless to try to 
hide it from her eyes. I lay and I relaxed into her 
softness. And I waited.

"Terry used to like to sleep like this, on my lap; we 
would stay like this for hours. Sometimes I'd get pins 
and needles in my legs. But I'd let him sleep."

I listened to the softness of her voice, almost 
wistful. I enjoyed the moment, just as Terry would have 
done. Then, I felt the softest of pressure on my naked 
chest; Alice's hand. It touched, it stayed there, I 
opened my eyes, looked up into Alice's face. Her eyes 
were hardly discernible against the sky behind her 
head. I'm sure my own eyes showed a startled 
expression. Alice's hand moved, her cool fingers and 
palm slid lightly across my warm chest, left and right, 
then she spoke again. "You have a nice body Anthony. I 
liked to see you high jump so well. You have nice 
strong legs too. I was really proud of you both at the 
school sports day."

I started to say something, but she spoke before I 
could. "It was nice, that time, when I came onto the 
balcony and saw you there – rubbing yourself. Did you 
like what I did for you, Anthony?"

I gulped, and sort of mumbled: "Yes" and my heart leapt 
violently in my chest. I was certain that Alice felt 
the banging underneath her hand as she stroked my skin. 
Oddly, this was the first time that either of us had 
mentioned the events of that day; here was Alice 
bringing it up as though it had been a pleasant 
interlude for us both, rather than the most exciting 
and selfish event of my young life.

Her fingers continued to slide across my chest, then 
almost imperceptibly, drifted downwards. My cock was 
rigid with yearning, and I felt that if Alice's hand as 
much as touched the end of it, I would explode right 
there and then inside my shorts. As though reading my 
mind, Alice's hand slipped down to the waistband of my 
shorts and whispered: "If you'd like me to do it again 
for you, Anthony....why don't you pull down your shorts 
a little?"

My chest was thumping, my cock was twitching like 
crazy, as I lifted up my bum and eased down my shorts 
over my Y-Fronts, then did the same with my underpants, 
allowing my hard, hot, intensely swollen and bursting 
organ to spring into sight and into the warm summer 
air. I looked up at Alice, barely seeing the colour of 
her eyes; she was looking at my cock as though admiring 
it – or was it my imagination? Her hand slid down onto 
my belly, her fingers slipped through my pubic hairs, 
and in an instant were wrapped around my hardness, 
which was pointing upwards to the sky; she held it very 
lightly, not squeezing at all. Her thumb was flat 
against the end knob, which was very moist, and her 
fingers entirely around it's length. 

Her hand stayed still; I suspected that she was afraid 
I would fire off immediately if she squeezed or rubbed. 
I was on the next rung to paradise, and I knew that, in 
view of my total excitement, if she thought that, then 
she was not at all wrong.

Alice leaned forward slightly, and I felt the light 
pressure of her breast against the top of my head. With 
her free hand, she took mine and brought it up to her 
bare arm. Accepting the invitation, I began to caress 
her forearm and then her upper arm with my hot hand. 
For the very first time I was caressing Alice's bare 
woman's flesh, and again my cock jerked in response. I 
had to strain not to ejaculate.

Then, I felt Alice fidget a little, and whisper again, 
"Scoot around a bit, Anthony."

I lifted my bum again, and felt a deep regret as 
momentarily Alice's hand left my cock. I settled back 
down at right angles to Alice's body, in time to see 
her lean forward again and slip her bathing costume off 
her shoulders, revealing to my amazed upward gaze, the 
most wonderful grapefruit-sized breasts and tiny 
nipples pointing down, hanging down towards my face. 
Without hesitation, Alice placed a hand under my head 
and drew my head up towards a breast.

"Suck my nipple, Anthony. Go on, it's alright, take it 
into your mouth and suck it for me, nicely please."

Without hesitation, she guided my mouth, and my lips 
closed around the nipple of the breast of Alice, my 
best friend's mother. My rock hard cock jerked again, 
and Alice's hand resumed its grip around my hardness. 
Hesitantly, I sucked her nipple, pressing my tongue 
flat against it, feeling its rubbery texture, tasting a 
hint of salt on her flesh.

Alice began to slide her hand along the length of my 
cock, then said, "Go on, suck harder, I like it." 

I sucked harder, then harder as Alice's hand gripped my 
cock more firmly, squeezed and began to rub up and 
down, her thumb pressing against the knob once more.

I was close to coming, and Alice knew it from the 
intensity of my sucking. I was afraid I would suck too 
hard, even bite her nipple, and hurt my darling Alice. 
I heard her moan lightly, as she rubbed my solid length 
harder and then suddenly, without warning, my whole 
lower body leapt upwards, pressing my cock into her 
fist, as the most exquisite orgasm began to travel up 
from my balls, into the length of my cock. I gasped, 
momentarily loosing my mouth from her breast. 

There was an incredible and copious eruption of seminal 
fluid, shooting up into the air, before Alice's hand 
moved over the eye of my cock and deflected the rest of 
the liquid into her palm, and then towards my belly and 
pubic hairs. I was sure and certain that I would never 
feel such intensity of pleasure again, as the seminal 
fluid gushed and gushed over Alice's hand and over me.

My whole body was quaking, my legs were trembling, and 
I continued gasping for a moment, before reclaiming her 
nipple back into my mouth, breathing hard through my 
nose. Alice waited, and just as I thought the climax 
was more or less over, she squeezed the head of my cock 
with her thumb and finger again and again, milking the 
last few drops of fluid from the eye into her hand. I 
sucked firmly on her nipple again, enjoying the revival 
of pleasure, and listening to her soft moans.

For what seemed like several minutes, Alice's hand 
stayed motionless around my cock, which was now 
shrinking. There was seminal fluid everywhere. Alice 
slipped her nipple away from my adoring mouth, reached 
over towards the picnic things nearby, grabbed a 
serviette and began to wipe both her hand and my lower 
body. All the time, my eyes were glued to her wonderful 
breasts, still hanging down towards my face. Then, 
Alice quickly pulled up her errant bathing costume, and 
I regretfully lost sight of those wondrous orbs, except 
for her slight cleavage above.

"I hope you liked that, Anthony" she said. "I did, it 
was really nice. We must do it again sometime soon, 
okay?"

I could do no more than nod my agreement; as usual, I 
was dumbstruck, couldn't find the way to say how much I 
loved her and a whole lot more.

"Terry should be back soon, so let's make sure 
everything looks in order, shall we?"

I reluctantly sat up and began to pull up my underpants 
and shorts and cover my sticky shame, before returning 
to sit a little way off from Alice. As she fussed to 
arrange her bathing costume top decently, I simply 
gazed at her in what must have looked like obvious 
adoration. She caught my stare.

"Don't look like that Anthony. It makes me think you're 
sad. You're not sad are you? It was nice wasn't it?" I 
almost cried out then that I was in love with her, but 
somehow I couldn't find the courage to utter the words.

So I nodded, and said, "Yes, it was really special for 
me. I'm not sad at all, really I'm not."

Soon we were both tidy and all appearances of monkey-
business were eliminated. Alice lay back and closed her 
eyes, as we waited for Terry to come back from his 
riverside explorations. As she lay there, without 
looking at me, she said, almost wistfully, "Say my 
name, Anthony. Call me Alice, just this once."

I replied, voice shaking, "Alice," and once again 
swallowed the rest of the sentence I so desperately 
wanted to utter. She smiled softly and settled back on 
the blanket.

Time seemed to stand still. I just sat looking at the 
outlines of Alice's wonderful body, her beautiful face, 
her long shapely legs laid there before me on the 
blanket, and reflected on what had just happened. For 
the second time, Alice had taken me in hand and given 
me the most incredible feelings of sexual release. This 
time, it was not because she had caught me in flagrant 
dιlit with my cock in my own hand, but because she had 
chosen, and wanted to do what she had done. She had 
seized the moment to pleasure me, and at the same time 
had taken her own seeming delight from having my mouth 
on her nipple. I was struggling to take all this in, 
when, after what must have been several minutes, Alice 
sat up once more and suggested I go look for Terry, who 
had now been away for more than an hour – though I had 
completely lost track of time.

Terry never came back that day.

I searched and searched, and then Alice joined me, 
finally panicking and rushing to the car to drive away 
and find help, whilst I continued to scan the river 
bank for what seemed like miles and miles, upstream and 
down.

With the fall of darkness, Terry's body was found by 
police searchers, at the bottom of a deep pool, almost 
two miles from the clearing where Alice and I had 
shared our moments of passion and pleasure.

We never found out what happened that day, why Terry 
drowned. We never had time to say goodbye, none of us.

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 50