I pushed Mark back on the couch, my mouth still glued to his, and allowed my hands to wander at will across his body – we both knew where they would end up, of course, because we both knew where we needed them to be. But the tease was fun, the sense of expectation that lies at the edge of the experience; and once I’d found his b
elt buckle, then an entire new dance could begin, as I slowly unclasped and unbuttoned his pants, and his stiff cock twitched into my fist.
I was laughing now as I gently stroked him, feeling the warm, full flesh so thick in my grip, and when one hand clasped the top of my head, gently pushing me down his body, I only resisted enough to taunt him further. I wanted this as much as he did, and maybe even more. We’d been together three months and we’d still not slept together – not “properly,” as some people might say. Maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe I wasn’t sure I wanted him to be “my first.” Or maybe, I’d found something else to do that seemed a lot more exciting.
He liked to have his cock sucked hard. So I would start out gently. He loved that first moment as my lips closed around it. So I’d draw it out by only using my tongue. He liked to shut his eyes, so I’d fix them with mine and defy him to close them. It wasn’t a war but it was a battle all the same, and when I knew he was on the very edge of coming, I’d make sure to keep him there for a little while longer. Then I’d gulp down as much of the first blast as possible, while holding the rest in my mouth to be dribbled, down his shaft if I wanted to, or into his mouth if I felt like that – he was mine at moments like this, and I could… and did… do whatever I wanted.
And then we’d lie back on the couch, and make jokes about things that we knew couldn’t harm us. Like – “that was a lot more comfortable than when we did it in your car”; or, “what time did you say your free period ended?” And the big one, because this was the first time we’d ever slipped out of class and back to my house, “oh God, could you imagine if my folks came home and caught us like this?”
Mark laughed, I roared, and then we froze as a voice floated in from the kitchen.
“Yes, imagine. Mark – I think you’d better be getting back to college. And Jennifer? I think you and I need to have a little chat.”
It was my mom.
Cards on the table. Yes, I’m eighteen, and I still live at home. What of it? The community college is three blocks away – what, you expect me to be renting my own apartment on the money I make at the gas station at night? And we couldn’t go to Mark’s, because his mother works from home. Whereas mine…. Mine are both meant to have jobs downtown, and be out of the house from eight-thirty till six. Which means the place should be empty at a quarter-to-two.
Mark pulled a face, and I slipped him a guilty grin. “I wonder if she saw anything,” he asked, and I had to suppress a giggle. “Probably not, it was all in my mouth.” But I knew what he meant and I braced myself for the storm. Because it’s true. You cannot imagine your parents having a sex life; can’t imagine them ever having had one. My mom would no more blow my father than – eeugh, stop it. I don’t even want to think about that.
Mark let himself out, and I trailed obediently into the kitchen.
“I guess you saw…”
“Yes, I saw.”
“I’m sorry. We should have gone upstairs, I suppose. But we thought you’d be out and…” I was half expecting some kind of lecture about sucking cock where my dad eats his dinner; about showing some respect while I was living in the house; about all those things that you try not to think about when you’re that age, but which dance at the back of your guilty conscience anyway. Instead, she gave me that look… you know the one… that all mothers keep in reserve, for that moment when you’ve disappointed them beyond all hope of redemption, that tears at your heartstrings and makes you feel like utter shit. The one that says “you lied to me.”
“Not even a week ago, Jennifer.” I knew exactly what she was talking about. We’d been having one of those mom-daughter chats, and she’d asked if I needed to go on the pill. I told her no, because I wasn’t sleeping with anyone. And she smiled and hugged me and didn’t say another word, but I knew that the fact I still had my virginity was the greatest gift I could have given her. She hadn’t said a word about anything else!
“Mom. I was telling the truth. I’m a virgin.”
“Jenny, you were…”
“I know. And that’s all I was doing. That’s all I’ve ever done.”
She looked at me, and I’m still not certain whether it was astonishment or admiration that flickered across her face for the moment it took her to regain her equilibrium.
“Really?”
“Yes. Honestly. In fact it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” And it all came out then, all those mother-daughter chats that I’d really wanted to have, but which you simply cannot bring yourself to broach with anyone apart from maybe a friend in class – and even then it’s all giggles and embarrassment and jokes. “It’s something I love doing. I like the way it feels, I like the way it tastes, I like the way he reacts…”
“Okay, okay.” Despite herself, mom was smiling now. “And… at the end? What happens at the end?” I caught her eyes flicker towards the couch where she’d caught us, as if trying to spot the huge puddle of cum that was surely congealing on the fabric.
“Mom. Remember when I came to you that day after school and asked why all the boys thought my name was so funny? And you told me they were just being stupid and I should ignore them?”
She nodded. I was still a kid then… how much of a kid, you can probably gauge from the fact I even needed to ask that question.
“Well, I found out. And after I found out, then I wanted to try it. And, once I tried it…”
She made a face, but it wasn’t the look of disgust I expected, or even one of shock. It was the face of a middle-aged woman who had just thought of a brilliant, filthy, joke, and wasn’t certain whether she could bring herself to say it aloud. “So you live up to the family name, then?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s a good job our last name’s not Spitz, then,” she spluttered. And then she dropped the bombshell. “But I do remember your father and my wedding reception, when we were dancing, and the first time he asked how it felt to be Sarah Swallows…”
Oh God, no. I sank my face in my hands. “Mom, please, I don’t need to know this…”
She was laughing even louder now. “and I told him I’d let him know when I had. He couldn’t get me up to the bridal suite fast enough.”
elt buckle, then an entire new dance could begin, as I slowly unclasped and unbuttoned his pants, and his stiff cock twitched into my fist.I was laughing now as I gently stroked him, feeling the warm, full flesh so thick in my grip, and when one hand clasped the top of my head, gently pushing me down his body, I only resisted enough to taunt him further. I wanted this as much as he did, and maybe even more. We’d been together three months and we’d still not slept together – not “properly,” as some people might say. Maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe I wasn’t sure I wanted him to be “my first.” Or maybe, I’d found something else to do that seemed a lot more exciting.
He liked to have his cock sucked hard. So I would start out gently. He loved that first moment as my lips closed around it. So I’d draw it out by only using my tongue. He liked to shut his eyes, so I’d fix them with mine and defy him to close them. It wasn’t a war but it was a battle all the same, and when I knew he was on the very edge of coming, I’d make sure to keep him there for a little while longer. Then I’d gulp down as much of the first blast as possible, while holding the rest in my mouth to be dribbled, down his shaft if I wanted to, or into his mouth if I felt like that – he was mine at moments like this, and I could… and did… do whatever I wanted.
And then we’d lie back on the couch, and make jokes about things that we knew couldn’t harm us. Like – “that was a lot more comfortable than when we did it in your car”; or, “what time did you say your free period ended?” And the big one, because this was the first time we’d ever slipped out of class and back to my house, “oh God, could you imagine if my folks came home and caught us like this?”
Mark laughed, I roared, and then we froze as a voice floated in from the kitchen.
“Yes, imagine. Mark – I think you’d better be getting back to college. And Jennifer? I think you and I need to have a little chat.”
It was my mom.
Cards on the table. Yes, I’m eighteen, and I still live at home. What of it? The community college is three blocks away – what, you expect me to be renting my own apartment on the money I make at the gas station at night? And we couldn’t go to Mark’s, because his mother works from home. Whereas mine…. Mine are both meant to have jobs downtown, and be out of the house from eight-thirty till six. Which means the place should be empty at a quarter-to-two.
Mark pulled a face, and I slipped him a guilty grin. “I wonder if she saw anything,” he asked, and I had to suppress a giggle. “Probably not, it was all in my mouth.” But I knew what he meant and I braced myself for the storm. Because it’s true. You cannot imagine your parents having a sex life; can’t imagine them ever having had one. My mom would no more blow my father than – eeugh, stop it. I don’t even want to think about that.
Mark let himself out, and I trailed obediently into the kitchen.
“I guess you saw…”
“Yes, I saw.”
“I’m sorry. We should have gone upstairs, I suppose. But we thought you’d be out and…” I was half expecting some kind of lecture about sucking cock where my dad eats his dinner; about showing some respect while I was living in the house; about all those things that you try not to think about when you’re that age, but which dance at the back of your guilty conscience anyway. Instead, she gave me that look… you know the one… that all mothers keep in reserve, for that moment when you’ve disappointed them beyond all hope of redemption, that tears at your heartstrings and makes you feel like utter shit. The one that says “you lied to me.”
“Not even a week ago, Jennifer.” I knew exactly what she was talking about. We’d been having one of those mom-daughter chats, and she’d asked if I needed to go on the pill. I told her no, because I wasn’t sleeping with anyone. And she smiled and hugged me and didn’t say another word, but I knew that the fact I still had my virginity was the greatest gift I could have given her. She hadn’t said a word about anything else!
“Mom. I was telling the truth. I’m a virgin.”
“Jenny, you were…”
“I know. And that’s all I was doing. That’s all I’ve ever done.”
She looked at me, and I’m still not certain whether it was astonishment or admiration that flickered across her face for the moment it took her to regain her equilibrium.
“Really?”
“Yes. Honestly. In fact it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” And it all came out then, all those mother-daughter chats that I’d really wanted to have, but which you simply cannot bring yourself to broach with anyone apart from maybe a friend in class – and even then it’s all giggles and embarrassment and jokes. “It’s something I love doing. I like the way it feels, I like the way it tastes, I like the way he reacts…”
“Okay, okay.” Despite herself, mom was smiling now. “And… at the end? What happens at the end?” I caught her eyes flicker towards the couch where she’d caught us, as if trying to spot the huge puddle of cum that was surely congealing on the fabric.
“Mom. Remember when I came to you that day after school and asked why all the boys thought my name was so funny? And you told me they were just being stupid and I should ignore them?”
She nodded. I was still a kid then… how much of a kid, you can probably gauge from the fact I even needed to ask that question.
“Well, I found out. And after I found out, then I wanted to try it. And, once I tried it…”
She made a face, but it wasn’t the look of disgust I expected, or even one of shock. It was the face of a middle-aged woman who had just thought of a brilliant, filthy, joke, and wasn’t certain whether she could bring herself to say it aloud. “So you live up to the family name, then?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s a good job our last name’s not Spitz, then,” she spluttered. And then she dropped the bombshell. “But I do remember your father and my wedding reception, when we were dancing, and the first time he asked how it felt to be Sarah Swallows…”
Oh God, no. I sank my face in my hands. “Mom, please, I don’t need to know this…”
She was laughing even louder now. “and I told him I’d let him know when I had. He couldn’t get me up to the bridal suite fast enough.”
1 comment:
Funny story, thanks.
Mike
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