Maria Thersa, Bobby and Luz
Chapter 1: Maria Teresa

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, Fa/ft, Consensual, NonConsensual, Incest, Mother, Son, Daughter, Grand Parent, First, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Cream Pie, Prostitution,

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1: Maria Teresa - Three interwoven stories. Luz misses her period and her parents send her to her grandparents in Seattle. Not such a good idea. She winds up having baby Maria Teresa and becomes a street walker. Bobby's dad takes him to Luz for his introduction to sex. Bobby and Luz ultimately live together and Bobby makes Maria Teresa into a woman, with her mother's permission. They all wind up living happily ever after.

My eyes were closed as I daydreamed about how the next 24 hours would change my life. It was a Tuesday and I already knew that I would be cutting school the following day. Truth be told, I was nervous, yet I giggled to myself as I imagined that excuse note that Mama might send to my home room teacher. Alas, it was a letter that she would never write.

Dear Sister Catherine, Please excuse my daughter, Maria Teresa Rodriguez, for being absent from school yesterday, Wednesday. On Tuesday evening, I allowed my dear lover, my Bobby to break Maria Teresa's maidenhead, what you young folks call a cherry, and make her into a woman. I know from more than ten years of living with Bobby, yes, living in sin if you must call it that, that he is a very tender lover and will give her great pleasure in sexual contact. In fact, I had no doubt that the two of them would enjoy it so much that it would continue all Tuesday night and through the day Wednesday.

Maria Teresa promised me that she would not allow Bobby to fuck her, excuse my language, in the ass. I believe that you are already aware that I spent a number of years walking the streets of Seattle and am fully familiar with the discomfort and pain of having a hard erect penis inside that tiny opening, and I made sure that she understood. Nevertheless, I ask you to please keep an eye on her in class and let me know if she is doing too much squirming in her seat. That will tell me that she broke her promise and I will deal with her fib accordingly.

I told my Bobby that he could have only one night with Maria Teresa. Yet knowing him as a lover, I'm sure that my daughter will want many more orgasms from him. If so, I would only consent to it as a threesome, but as of now I'm not sure. If I do agree, you may rest assured that we will only perform our little ménage on weekends or school holidays, so that Maria Teresa will not miss any more classroom time. Thank you. Vaya con dios, Luz Rodriguez.

I wondered if I should write that note, sign Mama's name and give it to Sister Catherine. But if I did, I could only give it to her in one of the rooms that has a defibrillator, because she sure as shit would have a heart attack.

Bobby was hot off the golf course and sweaty as hell when he got back to the house. Mama had me sitting in the living room, watching one of the porn tapes that the two of them sometimes watched while he recuperated after his first orgasm. My hand was under my teddy, my fingers inside me. Damn, I was horny as hell; I'd never seen two women eat each other, which was the current scene on the video. Someday...

Bobby too was horny; had been at least since I had overheard Mama tell him that she would cut off his balls if he ever so much as touched me before I hit sixteen, and I had passed that milestone a while back.

Mama had explained to me how Bobby would be as my first sex partner. "When I was working the street corners downtown," she said, "he was like every other john: a quick orgasm and then a remark about seeing me again sometime. But when I moved in here as the housekeeper, and then into his bed when the frigid bitch left him, he's become a very gentlemanly lover. He'll never cum until he makes you cum first, even if it means going down on you before anything. Don't be afraid of him. He doesn't bite. But he will nibble," she added with a smile.

Mama and Bobby of course shared the master bed room, but that day she was upstairs in her private room, in the maids quarters, determined to stay out of sight. She was afraid that Bobby would try for a threesome and she was determined to leave him to me alone that night.

"I think I need a shower, Maria. Would you care to join me?" He reached out one hand to help me up, but his eyes were focused on my cunt hair.

And so began my wonderful Rite of Passage from girl to woman.

He walked me to the stairs. Then he lifted me, as a bride across a threshold, one hand under my knees, the other holding my ass cheeks. Both my hands went around his shoulders, causing me to feel just like that bride. His musk, his masculine aroma, a golfer needing a shower after a hot day's round of eighteen championship holes, wafted gently to my nose. My pussy had been wet as my eyes absorbed the porn video. Now it gushed, and he gave a faint smile as the wetness reached his hand.

He carried me straight through his bedroom into the en suite, which was larger than my own bedroom. Silently he placed me on my feet and immediately began to strip off his clothing. But as I started to copy his action, my fingers starting to lift my teddy, he stopped me.

"Let me do that please."

I stood there obediently, watching as he showed me his magnificent body, staring as each piece of his clothing came off. Shoes, socks, a shirt with an alligator sewn on it, a sweaty wife-beater undershirt, his belt, a gaudy leather belt, neon green slacks. Each piece flew into the corner of the room, away from the shower, to pile up near one of his vanities. He was left with a pair of jockey shorts which had no fly. If he wanted to pee, he would have to pull his cock out from his waist band or down his leg.

That's when he paused, turning around to let me view his body, a side angle showing his obvious erection under his shorts. He was preening, a showoff trying to tease me, not realizing or maybe not even caring that I had one or two – all right, I must admit, maybe a few more - hand jobs of experience.

He beckoned and I moved close to him. His hands touched my teddy and he slowly began to remove it, even slower than slowly, inch by inch. Only his eyes touched me, resting first on my cunt hair and then on my nipples as they were exposed, standing out proudly from my breasts. Of course, I thought; I know that men and boys like my tits. The garment went over my head to mingle in the corner with his clothing.

At that point, his fingers went to his waist band as he began to remove the jockeys. That's when I decided to take over and I stopped him as he had stopped me from removing my single garment. My hands reached into his shorts and I took his cock in hand. It was clearly larger than any of the teenage cocks that I had known, that I had brought to climax, that had spurted their seed onto my hand or wrist.

With those boys I had cleaned my hand with my tongue. I had liked the taste and shyly swallowed the cum before kissing the boy who had delivered it to me. I wondered if I had been lying to Mama when I had told her that I had only gone as far as a hand job. I concluded that I had been telling the truth but deliberately withheld the fact that I had eaten cum. After all, the cocks had never been inside my mouth. Anyway, Mama probably would not have cared, what with the things she had found necessary to do to raise me, the indignities on her body that she'd had to allow. Let's just say that she had 'relied on the kindness of strangers'.

But for sure I knew as I held Bobby's meat that at some time before I slept it would be inside my mouth – as well as my even more important and soaking wet vaginal tunnel.

I pulled his shorts down. He lifted each leg in turn to allow me to get them off and add them to the pile in the corner. Seven or eight inches and fatter than any I had ever held. Could it fit in me? Mama had assured me that a cunt, a word she used casually, can dilate enough for damn near any man.

I bent to kiss his purple crown as my hand caressed his hairy balls. He sighed gently before pulling away from me and entering the shower alone. A quick rinse of his perspiration from faucets on three sides and then he held his hand out to aid me into the pulsating water.

The door opened with a click and I quickly stepped under the warm cascading water. My hair was soaked instantly, but neither of us particularly cared. He handed me a soapy washcloth and turned his back to me. My hand began to soap up the back of his neck and it occurred to me that if he had lusted after me for so long, he seemed very calm in his foreplay. His arms stretched out, the rippling muscles explaining why he had such a powerful tee shot. I washed them and moved down his back.

At his waist, I decided to stay in back and used my hands to press his legs apart. He complied, and I swabbed his firm ass cheeks. The cloth went into his crack and I suddenly removed it, fearful that I might give him ideas about ass fucking, yet knowing if that's what he wanted, he wouldn't need encouragement. None of my friends had ever had a good word for taking it that way. Nor had Mama.

While I was in the neighborhood though, I decided to reach between his spread legs and wash his balls. I really had no experience with balls. The boys whom I'd jerked off had taken off pants and shorts. Though I'd seen balls with the aid of street lights shining into back seats, the boys were only interested in my work on their cocks. I soaped the sac, feeling Bobby's little guys running away from the innocent touch of my fingers.

"Lick it," he said quietly.

Son of a bitch! He had been thinking about his ass – or was it mine? Even as I had washed his nuts, my visit to his crack had stayed in his mind. And now he wanted my tongue there. I pushed him into a position where the water from the shower would rinse the soap from his ass crack. And then the incongruity of the situation hit me. I had taken the trouble to rinse his ass so that the taste of soap wouldn't bother me and then I was about to stick my tongue where it didn't usually go with absolutely no idea what taste it would receive.

"No thank you," I answered, equally quietly. No fucking way would I do that for any man. There was no anger in my voice to signal my reaction to the effrontery of his request. Neither was there any fear about the possibility that he might force something on me during the night, or alternatively that he would abandon me, not accepting the gift of my maidenhead that I was anxious to deliver. That last was the deciding element, for I knew that I could easily get someone my own age to very willingly pop my cherry.

And still quietly, he turned around so that I could continue the shower, moving my hand down so that it could wash the key male component of this adventure. His cock was hard, of course, standing at attention, a military man ready to carry out the orders of his commanding officer. I soaped it gently, lovingly, that ubiquitous piece of flesh that would soon transport me across the Rubicon, making sure that I did not, not yet, stimulate it to ejaculation in an instant like one of the high school boys for whom I had performed that little chore.

He responded cooperatively when he felt me twisting his hips so that the faucet would rinse his member. Then I slid to the hard tile floor and took his tool, eight inches of handsome masculinity, into my mouth. My brain was waiting for me to have a reaction. Some of my friends had described the feel of cock stretching mouth as exquisite, erotic, drawing their fingers to their own pussies. Others, warned perhaps by older sisters or mothers, described the cock as distasteful, its ejaculate as unpleasant. As for myself, it was just one step along the road to the surrender of my virginity, neither exciting nor offensive. He wants, I supply.

But he didn't want. Not yet, anyway. His hands reached under my arms and he lifted me to my feet. Turning me around, my back to his front, he took the soapy washcloth from my hand. His mouth descended to the back of my neck, little kisses nibbling across from shoulder to shoulder. Meanwhile, his hands were caressing my breasts, tweaking my nipples.

"Did you forget the washcloth?" I asked, innocently.

His laughter was his answer. He turned me around again, to face him, and his lips descended to my nipples. I had once allowed a boy to do that, preparatory to my beginning to masturbate him, and it had felt very exciting. It had made me feel grown up, mature, a mother feeding a baby. For a brief second, I had considered allowing that boy to go farther, to go between my legs. Never giving a thought to whether that meant with his fingers or his cock – nor his tongue – a cooler head (mine) prevailed. What was left of my purity remained.

But with Bobby, my mama's john who became her lover, there was no doubt that being between my legs was precisely what I expected, the real reason that we were naked together.

As if reading my mind, his hand snaked down between us. When it reached my pubic hair, he used a finger to begin to twirl it, or curl it if you prefer that word. Not for long. Soon his finger rubbed up and down my slit, touching my clitoris, spreading my lips though not penetrating.

Fuck me Bobby, fuck me! To this day I couldn't tell you if I had uttered those words aloud or just thought them silently. Similarly, I couldn't tell if he had heard me or simply read my mind. Either way, he turned around and shut off the water. He reached out and brought in a two very fluffy bathrobes, embossed with his initials. We put them on, figuring that they would absorb most of the wetness on our bodies without the bother of towels. He did bring in two of those, which we used for our wet heads.

We walked out of the bathroom hand in hand, but then I broke free and ran to undo the king sized bed. I flopped down onto it, arms and legs spread, but still covered by the robe. He stood, staring at my face and then my covered body. Loose as it was, his robe still managed to show evidence of his hard erection. I tried to read his face, his eyes.

No, it wasn't love that I saw. I thought that's what he felt for my Mama, but how could anyone ever be sure of that? Nor was it lust, that evil leer of the cartoon man with the black mustache. And then I knew, and it made me feel wonderful.

His expression was one of caring, of affection. He had known me most of my life, and had helped Mama raise me. His only kisses had been as a senior family member, kisses on the cheek and such. He had never touched me carnally, albeit with a stern threat from Mama if he had done so. And here he now was, entrusted by his lover with the sacred – strike that, sacred is such bullshit – with the important duty of taking my maidenhead, my virginity, my cherry, and making me a woman.

Many of my sisters under the skin have argued that I became a woman the first time that I menstruated, became able to conceive a child. I on the other hand had always believed, and I don't know why, that I would not become a woman until I lost my cherry. And I'm not talking about losing it to a cucumber or hair brush, or even to my own anxious fingers; I'm talking about giving myself away to a real live cock, entering me, spreading me, thrusting and exploding inside me.

He opened my robe. I lifted my knees and spread them apart, an invitation to be fucked. His cock poked its head out, an RSVP that it would be happy to do so. His hands raised my shoulders so that I could slip the robe off my arms, and then lifted my ass so that he could toss the entire garment off the bed. He dropped his own robe where he stood and then lay on the bed next to me, facing me. He pulled a thin blanket over us.

My heart was beating with excitement, with the desire to feel this man inside me, and yet I felt mellow, so comfortable to be under the covers with someone whom I knew cared for me as a person. No doubt he wanted to penetrate me, to stroke me, to spurt his pearly fluids deep inside my body. He stretched out an arm and I rolled into it, snuggled in his warmth. My eyes closed, as if we had already made love, as if it was time for that post-orgasmic rest. But I was still wide awake. The fresh aroma of his newly showered body teased my nose. His warm breath tickled my shoulder as his hand slid up and down my backbone, holding my body against his but making no effort to pull me toward his hard member.

He turned his face toward me and then it happened. His lips touched mine, softly, our first ever non-chaste kiss. No different from the kisses of boys who had hoped for my fingers to masturbate them, and even more, yet this kiss tasted of patience, an unhurried first step – oh, I guess the shower had really been the first step – toward pleasing both of us sexually.

His kiss seemed to ring a bell, a single shrill note of a timekeeper starting Round One of the rest of my life. My face pressed hard against his. My tongue attacked, forcing its way into a mouth was offered no resistance. My hand on his neck pulled us together, while my other hand grasped his still damp manhood. His free hand came up to fondle – no, that's a dirty word – to caress my breasts. We could both feel my nipples hardening, expanding against the palm of his hand.

And then his mouth moved lower, to feast on my tits – to me, they are only spelled teats when they have milk in them - to keep them occupied as his hand also went south, a gentle touch between my legs. His fingertips moved up and down my slit, making no effort to enter me, simply teasing my clit on each upstroke.

I realized the truth of what Mama had said, though I had never thought enough about it to doubt her: until he was able to make me cum, he would leave my virginity intact. My knees slammed together, to trap his hand. He was a very willing prisoner, a prisoner of ... lust. Affection, caring, but gentle lust. He twisted his hand with the slightest of effort and my legs willingly parted, welcoming him to continue.

Never in all my masturbation had my loins become so damp. My pussy drooled, and I could feel the wetness seep down toward the crack of my ass. His fingers pressed, rubbing me but still not spreading my labia. I could tell that he was not interested in popping my cherry with his fingers. He was saving that for his cock, and I silently thanked him.

Closer and closer he brought me. Wetter and wetter I became. Harder and harder I squeezed his cock, feeling the little drop of moisture oozing from the tip of his crown. Faster and faster his hand rubbed against my pussy as I tried to force myself to orgasm.

And then I was there, over the top, throbbing, gushing, screaming, crying, laughing, all the sounds I usually make when I pleasure myself. My teeth sank into Bobby's shoulder, to temper some of the noise. I laughed to myself at the incongruity of the bite. After all, Mama for all practical purposes had arranged this wonderful moment for me, and yet I didn't want her to know the instant he made me cum. Nor did I want her to think that she had heard the sound of my cherry being broken. In that moment I became jealous of my beloved Mama, for I knew that Bobby was mine only for the night, and he was hers every other night.

"Fuck me, Bobby. Fuck me, my lover." That time I was sure that I had said it aloud, albeit in a whisper. I kicked off the blanket and spread myself as a whore. I felt like a whore, offering myself, my body, for anything this man wished to do.

His hand reached down to rub my pussy again. I gasped as he spread my labia and began to explore what lay beyond.

"Did Luz tell you that the first time will hurt?"

"Jeez, Bobby, every girl knows that. She doesn't need to hear it from her Mama, she learns it at school. In the gutter, if you will."

He hovered over me. His feet were below mine, his head above. In between, cock and cunt were lined up exactly. I took his man thing in hand and began to rub the crown against my slit, lubricating it. My eyes began to beg him to shove it into me, to take my cherry and blast it to smithereens. What does that word really mean, anyway?

"Bite your wrist, Maria. We don't want to scare your Mama."

I brought it into position, ready to mute my expected scream. My eyes narrowed, closed.

"On the count of three, Maria. Are you ready? One..." WHAM!

My eyes popped open, as did my mouth. The sudden surprise had muted my voice. But oh shit, did it hurt – and hurt – and hurt. He grabbed my head and kissed me, a different way to muffle my scream. Which never came.

He knew enough to stop after that first thrust, waiting for my pain to go away. I took about a minute before I could speak.

"What the heck was that?" I gasped. A silly question to be sure, for I certainly knew what had happened.

"I have a confession, Maria. This was the first time I've ever deflowered a virgin."

"What about your wife?"

"Definitely not my wife. She was the high school roller coaster; everyone rode her up and down. And she never tried to hide it. That's why I was so surprised that she left me when she caught me with your mother."

"Well, fuck her," I said.

"No. Tonight we fuck each other."

I giggled, but my hands gripped his ass. I still needed time to get used to his hardness inside me. We're small, me and my pussy. He's large, his build and his cock. Yes, I know, every girl knows, her vagina can dilate to handle almost any sized cock, but I still needed to get used to it.

It's a funny thing about dilation. If you go to an eye doctor and she dilates your eyes, they'll open as wide as possible in order for her to see as much as possible. But when your vagina dilates, it only does so wide enough to handle whatever – cock, cucumber, finger – is inserted, allowing the vagina to hold it snugly. Whether it's true or not, I've heard that a whore's cunt is stretched wide open with constant usage, so a cock in there is loose and not as pleasurable a fuck for the man. Whatever. That makes me think that a snug vagina is Mother Nature's way of making sex fun, and thus propagating the species.

So there I was, underneath Mama's lover, my lover of the moment, having a meaningless conversation as his cock plugged me, as I could feel the blood of my torn membrane oozing, as I hurried the pain out of my loins so that he could begin the plunging of lust, that wonderful rubbing of cock against clit that makes the woman desire the act as much as does the man.

And as we waited, our lips melded into one. My teeth parted to allow entry to his tongue, to be met by my own. Yet the tongues did not fight for territory as in foreplay – yes, I did that preparatory to giving a boy a hand job – but rather as two old friends meeting, shaking hands, hugging one another, sharing old memories.

He asked if I was ready and I nodded. I glanced down at the junction of our bodies, that spot where his fleshy tube lay in the opening through which he would soon pump the liquid of life. Alas, I saw nothing, for Bobby's pubic hair and my own were intertwined, red with blonde. In one silly moment, I wondered why the two colors had not blended, as pigments in a paint can, and I blushed at the inane thought.

But as I watched, his penis slowly withdrew from me, white skin glistening with a coating of my lubrication and tinged with a hint of the blood from my former hymen. And when nothing was left inside me save for his purple crown, he pushed back inside me, equally slowly, allowing my vaginal walls to comfortably widen again.

I listened to his breathing as he fucked me. I keep wanting to say 'made love to me' but that would not be true. For both of us it was just plain fucking, me for the novelty of the act itself, he for the sensation of a new cunt, to compare with the sensations of all those prior cunts, and especially that of my Mama.

Gradually his breathing sped up, in conjunction with his thrusting. It reminded me of a locomotive in an old western movie, overcoming inertia and building up a head of steam to race down the tracks into that dark tunnel cut into the mountain, to, metaphorically, explode inside my tunnel. And before that happened, I, the mountain, was erupting in return, humping my hips upward to meet every thrust half way.

Oh Jeez, if this is what fucking means, let it never end.

But then the man with the steam locomotive grunted, just like a boy getting a hand job, and began to explode. Spasm after spasm after spasm, like car bombs in a poorly choreographed television show, but so ... filling ... as he emptied his cum inside me.

I grunted in response, only I was lying. He had not made me cum again and I silently began a ledger page entitled 'Orgasms Bobby owes me.'

He rolled off me. According to Mama, he would quickly run to the bathroom to pee, but he surprised me.

"Clean me off please," he said, looking down at the cock, now even shinier because of his own ejaculation. He caressed my head as I took him into my mouth. Though it was the first cock ever to pass my lips, it felt familiarly comfortable as my tongue washed away the evidence of his orgasm.

Then he ran to empty his bladder.

I love the scent of your cunt."

It was only minutes later. His nose was buried between my legs, and I could hear his deep inhaling.

"I'll bet you tell all the girls that."

"No. Seriously, just you and your Mama."

"You're prejudiced."

"Why? Just because I love you both?"

What! Did he just say love? Where did that come from? Sure, he loves Mama, but I never even kissed him before today, I mean kissed more than a peck. Shit, I don't want to be in a contest with Mama. I'm not stupid. I never ever saw him looking my body up and down, or staring at my tits. Or crotch! It doesn't make sense. Oh well, maybe he didn't mean love like that, maybe he just meant luv, like I luv mashed potatoes or I luv pina coladas. Yeah, that must be it.

That all made me forget for a moment where his mouth was. He intended to eat me out, that mysterious thing called cunnilingus, which I guess must be Latin for cunt and tongue. Of course I'd heard about it. I don't mean the Latin word, but just plain old 'going down' on a girl. Yes, I know, I call myself woman now, but I still feel like a little girl.

Those of my friends who had ever been eaten claimed that it was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Not only that he would be giving her an orgasm but also that it put a man on his knees, like a supplicant, a beggar for her cunt. Sort of like a girl on her knees blowing a man, but I hadn't done that. Not yet, anyway.

And I knew from the occasional porn video that watching two women going down on each other was a man's greatest fantasy, even better than being sucked off by two women at once, or fucking a woman up the ass. I knew from overhearing Bobby and Mama that she didn't mind bending over for him that way, but that wasn't my cup of tea.

But something else popped into my mind. I hastily erased from my brain the ledger page listing orgasms that Bobby owed me. I knew from the location of his head that he would always give me all the orgasms I wanted. If I gave a bit more than I received, it wouldn't matter at all.

He licked my slit, starting at the bottom and working his way up to my clit, which he diddled with his tongue. He then moved his head back down but he passed the bottom of my clit and began by licking my taint. That's a weird word, isn't it? He kissed his way back up and began to suck on my clit. For his third attack, he went past my taint and spread my ass cheeks. His tongue invaded my anal opening and I jumped with surprise.

And I suddenly realized why Mama was in love with Bobby. He was a man who did something for me, without my asking, after I had expressly refused it to do it for him.

He tongue fucked me behind, though he couldn't get his tongue in that far. And he tongue fucked me in front, adding his probing fingers to the frontal assault. He was an expert, and I exploded faster than I had ever cum, even from my own fingers. I'm a squirter, and I soaked his face as I screamed.

He moved his head and brought his shiny wet face to mine. We kissed, tongues busily engaged, and I tasted my own pussy on his lips. I'd tasted myself previously, from my own fingers when I had jilled myself, but this sensation was new, exciting, erotic.

We slept, naked of course and uncovered. The air conditioning gave me a little chill but we spooned, my ass in his lap, his cock prodding, his arms around me, caressing my tits. His movements woke me; it was still dark.

He had slid down, bringing his cock behind my thighs. I murmured that I was awake and receptive, though in truth I was as tired as tired could be.

"What do you have in mind?" I whispered, fearing that he had designs on my asshole.

"Sshhh," was his quiet reply.

He lifted my upper leg, slid his meat between them.

"Are you sore from last night?"

"No," I responded.

One hand pushed my back away from him, leaving me bent at a ninety degree angle. His other hand spread my labia. I understood, and used my hand to gently guide his manhood inside me. We were positioned for him to fuck me doggy style, lying on our sides. A little uncomfortable, but it sure as hell beat an anal assault.

Since it was the middle of the night, Bobby's libido apparently caused him to ignore the rules about foreplay and seduction. All he wanted to do was to empty his balls as quickly as possible. I tightened my vaginal muscles in an attempt to slow down his release but it was to no avail. He bellowed and let go, two rapid spurts and rolled over, popping out of my body.

My mouth reached over to his cock and cleaned away his cum. Exhausted as I was, I closed my eyes and fell asleep, his cock between my lips.

I must have been more tired than I realized, for when I awoke, my mouth was still full of his hard manhood. He was snoring away as the light began to filter through the curtains. Well, I thought, I've not yet given him a good cock-sucking. May as well.

Trying not to wake him, not yet anyway, my tongue slowly circled his crown. That was the only part that had remained in my mouth as we slept. My mouth moved up his shaft a few inches. Who was I kidding? You can't blow a man without waking him, sooner rather than later. Bobby's hand touched the back of my head, simply smoothing my hair.

I backed off, freeing his cock so that I could get at it from the side. My tongue ran up and down his shaft. He sighed and began to pant, but clearly he was nowhere near an orgasm. I lifted his cock and ducked under, washing his balls with my tongue. His crotch reeked of sweat, of manhood.

His hands pushed me over, onto my back. He levered his body above me, lining up his meat with my face. I took it and opened my mouth, welcoming it.

"Relax, Maria. Let me do the work."

I didn't have to suck. Bobby began to fuck my face. It took me a moment to realize what he was doing and I grasped the root of his cock, to prevent it from hitting the back of my throat. The gentle man of the previous evening was gone; he pounded into my mouth like a man possessed, like a rapist if you will. My mouth formed itself into a cunt, tightening around his thrusting organ.

He stiffened, grunted, filled my mouth with spurt after spurt of his seed. Rather than swallow, I kept as much of his gift as possible in my mouth. When he pulled out, I reached up to his head and pulled his face to mine.

"Kiss me, Bobby."

He understood. I expected that we would share his cum, each of us swallowing half, and he cooperated.

"Let's go back to sleep."

When I next awoke, the bed next to me was empty. Bobby was dressed, bending over to kiss me.

"I have to run. I have a breakfast meeting at the club."

"Can we do this again tonight, Bobby?"

He paused, weighing his words carefully.

"I promised Luz that I would not use you to compete with her. You know that she has first dibs on me."

"But you know that Mama used to work the streets. I'm sure that she's done some threesomes in her younger day."

He smiled. "I wouldn't mind. Why don't you ask her?"

Do any of you, dear readers, have any doubt that I would ask her? Or what she would say?

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