Those Waldron Women
Chapter 1: Those Waldron Women
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Analingus, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Petting, Safe Sex,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: Those Waldron Women - 51 year old widower Morgan after going through a period of grief at the loss of his wife, sells his house, goes on two cruises during which he meets two women with whom he experiences the only sex he has ever had besides his wife. He returns from his last cruise and moves into an apartment next door to a forty year old woman and her twenty year old daughter. He only has eyes for Krissy, the mother. But Rebeccah, Krissy's daughter had ideas of her own.
Some things happen where there is just no plausible explanation: sometimes it happens through religion, sometimes because of a Good Samaritan, a gift from a secret admirer or just through serendipity. I think it was the latter that caused the coming about of my good fortune with the Waldron women.
I was fifty-three years old at the time, in a different place than I had been since before I had fallen in love with the magical person who had become my wife. She was the keel of my stability who I lost to cancer just a few years ago. Like so many people I felt sure that something like this would never happen to me. At Connie’s funeral people offered the same lame words I myself had made when people I knew lost a loved one: “If there is ever anything I can do for you don’t hesitate to ask.” I’m not being critical; people just don’t know what to say.
There was one woman, Callie Johnston, who had lost her husband three years prior, who said. “I understand what you are going through Morgan. The most honest thing I can say is that it’s going to take quite a while before you’re ready to pull yourself up from the ground. Find stuff to do to keep from going nuts and don’t jump into some woman’s bed for at least a year. I can tell you from experience that it will set you back a year or so in your process of getting your life back.”
My boss’s partner, Cary McDuff, who I didn’t know very well, lost his own wife. Commiserating with me he took out his calendar and said, “Anything I say to you at the moment Morgan you won’t even remember.” He pointed to date a month away on the calendar. “I’ll call you on this day and we’ll set up a breakfast or lunch. Ok?”
I didn’t really expect him to call. But a month from the date he called and we had lunch together. He didn’t beat around the bush. “Put your house up for sale Morgan. It’ll be one of the hardest things you’ve ever done but that house has always been Connie’s and always will be. If you live there alone you’ll be living with a ghost.” I resented him saying that. “If you decide to play the field or just date,” he went on, “no woman will want to come into that house. She’ll not want to feel the competition of the woman who gave you all those years of happy marriage. If you remarry under those circumstances you’ll increase the likelihood that your marriage won’t last. You need to get out of there and put it in the past.”
As Connie’s disease had progressed we had to stop having sex. In shared suffering I became, even stopped getting erections. It was like someone had laced my food with salt peter. Connie had been a highly sexed woman. We were both active, even kinky. For the first couple months after she died I was in a fog. As the fog began to clear I began having dreams about her, mostly light hearted dreams that seemed to take place in our early years. Then I started getting erections again at any time of the day and the dreams became, no longer with Connie but with fantasy women—some who I knew well and some whom I had merely seen.
While Connie was still alive and healthy a few of my friends were going through midlife crises. Two had affairs with younger women. They wound up getting divorced and ended up marrying the women they were cheating with. I can’t say that I had a full blown midlife crisis but I was living vicariously through my friends. Connie was critical of these guys and would zap me when I ogled younger women. She really jabbed me when she saw me gaping at teenagers. Though I was never really tempted to stray I did have more than a few erotic dreams on the subject. But the die was not to be cast in that direction and I knew that a woman more than ten years younger than me would never happen. The decision to sell the house took a while and it was a difficult thing for me to go through. When I signed the papers it was as if I finally told Connie, “It’s all over for you Babe.”
Just after renting a great apartment with a very nice woman who and her good looking daughter living next door I went with a tour group to China then with another to Europe a couple weeks later—I kind of binge escaping. Connie and I had both planned to travel a lot and I felt like a traitor. Had I not let the house go I would have probably never made the trips—at least on my own. Out from under the burden of the house the trips definitely help with my transition. They were cruises during each of which I had two shipboard affairs. The affairs were good for my libido as well as my self-image, plus making me aware of different varieties of sexuality. While Evelyn on the China trip was highly sexed I couldn’t arrive at the comfort level I enjoyed with Connie. Cerise on the Europe Cruise was prissier and a one orgasm per session person. While Evelyn experienced many in a night or afternoon Cerise had one gigantic orgasm that made her squirt. She was always embarrassed and had to clean up after each involvement which pretty much ended any romantic feeling. While I having the luxury of a twenty-four year love affair with Connie the benefit of the two women on the cruises began to accustom me to becoming comfortable playing the field on an adult level. And the sex with my shipmates if nothing else, clipped my horns. I was finding out that regardless of the circumstance no matter the intensity of the sex there was no such thing as bad sex.
After living in the apartment for about four months I started feeling the change. I was feeling like a worthwhile human being again and wanted to rejoin society on a more meaningful basis. I was beginning to view myself a sexual person again rather than some poor bastard who lost his wife. The adjoining apartment was occupied by a divorced woman of forty who lived with her twenty year old daughter. I had seen Krissy—the mother—a few times while I was doing some writing on my computer. I could watch her through the window of the second bedroom which acted as my office. I had never before gotten a good look at Rebeccah, her daughter until the day they went out for a walk together and came back an hour and a half later. They appeared to be more like best friends rather than mother and daughter.
Able to study them more closely I could see that Krissy, the mother, was more attractive than I had previously thought. She had natural looking blonde hair stood about 5’5”and was slightly built with a very attractive frame. She had blue eyes and well-formed, medium sized breasts. It was apparent that she kept herself in good condition. Rebeccah was about an inch shorter, I didn’t see a resemblance to her mother. Even as a much younger woman she had slightly larger hips and definitely larger breasts; I would say a C cup to Krissy’s B. She was definitely good looking but more cute than pretty. As they were coming toward the building they were both laughing which was making their breasts jiggle indicating that neither was wearing a bra. While not perspiring visibly their pullover shirts were damp enough to highlight the fact that their prominent nipples were being shadowed by the morning sunlight. These two attractive women, enhanced by the gaiety of their laughter presented a pretty and alluring picture which aroused me more than I had been since Connie died.
Rebeccah looked up at my window and spotted me. She said something to her mother who smiled and nodded. They both waved. Unable to keep from smiling I waved back. It struck me that I was sporting the bulge of a fully erect penis. I felt conspicuous, as if they could see it through the wall and past my desk. Finally passing out of sight I heard rapid conversation and the younger voice of Rebeccah urging Krissy, “Come on Mom, you’ll never have a better chance.” Just a few seconds later there was a gentler tapping on my door.
Opening the door I saw Krissy standing there with an unsure smile. Her face was red, her blue eyes glistened. It occurred to me that she was very shy; doing something that was quite unusual for her. Beyond her I could see Rebeccah going through their door looking over her shoulder at as she disappeared into their living room. Still breathing rapidly Krissy said, “I was happy to see you standing in the window. Rebeccah and I were talking about you.” Though she was smiling it seemed like she wanted to hide behind something. “Rebeccah said to me, ‘Morgan seems like a nice man Mom. Why don’t we ask him over for dinner tonight?’ I thought you might be busy but she said that it wouldn’t hurt to ask. So,” she took a deep breath, “W-would you like to come to dinner tonight?” She had a hopeful look on her face like a child asking to go for ice-cream.
With a beaming smile I said, “Sure.” Krissy had been popping into my dreams lately; I even ended up in bed with her but woke up each time just before putting it in. “Can I bring anything?”
“We’re having spaghetti, a salad and garlic bread, how about a bottle of red wine?”
“It’s a Deal,” I answered.
I’d thought more than once about knocking on their door myself. I liked what I saw when Krissy went out for a walk or when she passed me in the park. But I was put off by the fact that her daughter was living with her and I wouldn’t have known how to handle that situation it if something with Krissy were to have come up. Each time I thought about it though I didn’t know if I was ready or courageous enough for that kind of approach. I had been uncomfortable approaching women all my life. My wife approached me for starters. And the two women on the cruises made contact with me first as well. It seemed consistent that Krissy—even though she was so shy—was the one to knock on my door.
I really didn’t know what I was expecting. I had horny thoughts about jumping into bed with Krissy and didn’t think there would be any way I could maneuver her into bed with Rebeccah in the house, if such an unlikely situation were to arise in the first place. I figured that Rebeccah would be there with us that night to act as a buffer. So I figured that I would leave my horny thoughts at home for the evening. If it turned out well I would come up with a plausible answer in the event that a relationship could develop.
But it was a new departure and as I stood at the door at of the apartment just across from mine with a bottle of Chianti Classico in each hand I felt like a teenager going on a first date. In Sperry Topsiders with no socks I wore Levis and a white shirt with the cuffs folded back. I tapped on the door with the bottom of one of the bottles. As it opened inward the smell of garlic wafted my nostrils. Rebeccah was smiling at me. “Hello Morgan,” she said as she extended her hand. “Mom has just put the spaghetti noodles on. I’m Rebeccah. Come in.”
Her eyes were vivid like her mom’s; her brunette hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her face was “peaches and cream” flawless. She was wearing a blue-green tank top, no bra and tightly fitting white Capri pants. On her feet were low soled, white strap sandals which showed her nicely manicured and pink painted toenails. My eyes drifted to the points of Rebeccah’s nipples then down to the crotch of her Capri’s. Though my glance was fleeting I could see how the fabric of her pants formed into her labia. Following my eyes her cheeks tinged pink as she gave me an embarrassed, pouty smile. As I thought what an asshole I am she took the bottles from my hand then turned and exaggerated the feminine wiggle of her hips on the way to the kitchen. I followed.
Wiping her hands on her white apron Krissy breezed past her and with a relieved smile offered me her right hand. “Welcome Morgan, this has been a long time coming.” I thought the same thing. “Let’s not be strangers anymore,” she said with a wink. Might she be horny too?
“I bet you’re better at this than I am,” Rebeccah said as she came she handed the bottle and a corkscrew to me and walked back into the kitchen. Following her I put the bottle on the countertop and worked out the cork. Rebeccah’s back was too me as she reached up in the cupboard. Glasses tinkled and three goblets appeared on the counter next to the wine bottle. It must have been my imagination but when she was taking her hands down from the shelf that held the wine glasses it seemed to me like her nipples had grown more prominent than when she had answered the door. They were clearly tenting the fabric of her tank top.
Filling the glasses I let Rebeccah take one for her and one for her mother. She handed hand one to her mom who was still in her apron. I picked up mine and said, “Can I offer a toast?” Both women smiled warmly and nodded. “To good neighbors getting together,” I offered. They raised their glassed. “May it happen again and again?” I saw Krissy and Rebeccah look at each other, smile and raise their eyebrows as they sipped demurely.
I noticed that both women were wearing the same lipstick, a soft pink that went well with their teal colored tops and pink painted toenails. Krissy’s top was partially covered by her apron. It wasn’t a tank top but a full-sleeved silk blouse with cuffs folded back—like mine. Her Capri’s matched her daughter’s, as did her sandals. The scene morphed to slow motion as I watched the lips of both mother and daughter compressing on the rims of their glasses. The effect was erotic, my penis surged. Always thinking about sex I thought with a well-disguised, silent laugh.
“Why are you smiling?” asked Rebeccah.
I wasn’t lying when I said, “I’m just so happy to be here.”
“Mom and I talked about asking you over when you first moved in. But you went away on your cruise right away. You came back and went away again for another three weeks.” I was surprised that Rebecca was doing most of the talking.
Sighing I said, “Yes, I’ve been trying to get over the passing of my wife. I sold the house, rented this place so I would have some place to come back to and took a tour of China. Then came back and took a trip to Europe. It helped a lot.”
When I sighed Rebeccah apparently saw something in my face that told of my feelings. As I told her about Connie’s passing her eyes welled.
I filled in the paused, “Die? It’s been just over a year now. It took me a while to accept that I had to sell the house ... then it took a long time to sell it.”
Krissy had been standing idle while the interchange between Rebeccah and me took place. It became more apparent how painfully shy she was wondered how hard it was for Rebeccah to talk her into knocking at my door and inviting me to dinner. “You never mentioned that to me Morgan,” she said. We had talked briefly a couple times in the park across from the apartment building.
I chuckled and said, “You’re not as forward as your daughter Krissy.” Rebeccah blushed as she gave me a knowing smirk. “You never asked about my circumstances and I didn’t want to announce it. You’ve always been so nice to me though. I didn’t want to get started on the details at the time. But I’m alright with it now. It’s time for me to move on.” Holding up my glass I said, “To friends.”
After sipping the toast Rebeccah asked, “Um ... have you met any other women?”
“REBECCAH,” her blushing mother reproached.
“No, no, no, Krissy, it’s alright. I’ve needed a Rebeccah in my life to kind of ... um ... socialize me again, if I might say that.” Rebeccah smiled, lifted her glass and sipped. As she smiled unsurely Krissy’s knuckles whitened on her glass as she sipped.
“It’s alright Mom,” Rebeccah assured her.
“Yes it is,” I confirmed. “This might be more information than you might be asking for young lady. And maybe my answer will be inappropriate but since you asked I might as well get it out in the open. On my trip to China I met a single woman about my age with whom I spent a good deal of ... um ... time while I was on the tour. I met another lady on my trip to Europe. Neither developed into anything, I really didn’t expect them to. Quite frankly it was good for all concerned that nothing did. I had a friend who told me that a year ago. He was right ... and I’m ok now.”
The dinner went well, the spaghetti was delicious. We drank all the wine. I even went across the hall and dug out another bottle. During dinner Rebeccah was the one who asked all the questions. I engaged Krissy in the conversation as much as was comfortable. Her responses were shy but warm. She was really incredibly sweet. As mother and daughter she and Rebeccah seemed to be good friends, they were both touchy and feely with each other.
Krissy definitely appealed to me. While she didn’t seem to be flirting with me when she thought I wasn’t looking at her, I kept catching her staring at me in her demure way. While I had always been partial to confidant women her cautious nature had a strange appeal to me—It must have been a combination of her looks, carriage and that fact that she might so closely available. Or maybe it was that she was mysterious. Whatever, I knew that I wanted to get it on with her but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Regardless, it was definitely out of the question that night.
Since the invitation that morning my libido was bubbling over. Rebeccah, who was infinitely flirtier, was out of the picture sexually. I was sure she would never be interested in a man my age. Besides I was more interested in her mother, she was closer to my age and I could see a common ground with her both sexually and socially. While enjoying the evening immensely I felt liberated being with women that were so easy to like. I began weighing the appeal of both women and even had a spark of consideration about Rebecca in the event that Krissy wouldn’t satisfy my overwhelming sex drive. When it was time to go I hugged Krissy for having me over to dinner and Rebeccah for convincing her mother to invite me and showing me such a good time. Krissy’s hug was warm but reticent. Rebeccah tightly returned my hug, pushing her middle into me. Regardless, I was sure that any sexual activity tonight would be handled by my five-fingered friend. He had been doing yeoman work lately.
It was 1:15 when I walked into my apartment. Going right to bed sleep evaded me. I kept thinking of Krissy in her teal silk blouse that showed so apparently that she wore no bra. Every time she laughed her breasts jiggled, her nipples toying prominently with the soft, alluring fabric. Before going to dinner my desire was strictly for Krissy. By the time I left, with the attention Rebeccah had been paying me all night and the definite sexually suggestive way she hugged me goodbye, the image of both women were now in my mind.
As far as I could tell Rebeccah’s nipples were hard all the time, at least when my eyes caught them. I kept thinking about how the lips of Krissy’s vagina formed in the crotch of her Capris. From what I could determine they were demure and slight. Rebeccah’s were more prominent, the seam of her Capris sunk in more deeply. Though I had no designs on Rebeccah I imagined both women naked, assuming that Krissy had hair on her vagina and Rebeccah shaved hers, as most young women I saw in porn pictures did. Trying to go to sleep I was constantly hard, finally masturbating to get relief the imagination of being inside the mature Krissy. Shortly after I ejaculated on my bare stomach I dozed off.
I was awakened by an unusual, repetitious “ticking” noise. Blinking at the shadows coming through the venetian blinds I realized that something was hitting the window. At first I thought it might be a Mockingbird in heat that was pecking on it—they often do that, thinking the reflection in the glass is another bird. Looking out the window I saw the shadowy figure of a woman stooping over. She was dressed in what seemed to be just a white t-shirt that seemed to allow me to see the bottom of her bare ass. She seemed to be picking something off the ground. When she stood again and threw something I realized it was Rebeccah. The pebble ticked against the window. Opening the window I murmured, “Is something wrong Rebeccah?”
“I need to talk with you,” she hissed back.
“Why didn’t you just knock on my door?” Putting her finger to her lips she shushed me and pointed to her and to me again.
Pulling on the Levis I had hung over the chair—I sleep naked—I walked quickly to the door. Rebeccah was there in slippers and her t-shirt which barely covered her ass. Barging past me she closed the door behind her. Turning to me she looked as if she was frustrated or angry. “I didn’t want to wake up Mom.”
“So what’s up?” I asked, trying to mask my concern that something might be terribly wrong.
Acting as if she were frightened she threw her body into mine, wrapped her arms around me and pushed her hips forward. “I can’t sleep Morgan,” she said, pushing her tummy harder into mind. “Mom and I were talking about you. I’ve been thinking what she and I talked about ever since.”
Still groggy I was trying to make sense of why she was there and what the trouble was. “I don’t understand Rebeccah. What were you and your mom talking about that is upsetting you so much?”
“She ... um ... wants to get to know you better.”
“We’re neighbors Rebeccah. It was very nice of your mom and you to have me over to dinner. I would like to be friends with your mom, and you also.” The fog was clearing. I eased her arms off of me. “It seems strange that you tell me that your mom wants to get to know me better yet you’re the one who has been throwing pebbles at my window, waking me up in the middle of the night and hugging me like you were scared of something.”
I could make out her pouting face by the reflection of the parking lot lights coming through the window. It irritated me. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was also uncomfortable standing in front of this young girl with a raging hard-on pushing against my Levis. In self-defense I suggested, “Why don’t we go into the kitchen and sit down?” I made sure she was sitting across the table from me. When I sat down I said, “Okay Rebeccah let’s see if we can get to the bottom of this.”
“Mom is so shy Morgan and really needs to be with a man, I was hoping it would be with you, you’re so nice.”
It felt odd that I should answer the way I did. “I realize Rebeccah that your mom is shy, that’s why I didn’t press the issue with her tonight.” I spoke to her like a man who was confident with women, not one who had rarely asked a girl or a woman even for a date. Actually, with Krissy being so shy I was a fish out of water. It was usually the women who did the asking: like my wife, the woman on the China cruise and the woman on the European cruise. Maybe though, had Rebeccah not been there, Krissy would have made some kind of move or indication she wanted to be with me. Maybe even I would have, I was certainly horny enough.
“I didn’t suggest anything to her for two reasons. First I’m not a man to kiss on the first date. Second, you were there and I wouldn’t have known what to say or do in that kind of circumstance.” It seemed odd that I was talking with this young girl in confidence, as if I were in college plotting with a sorority girl (who’s friend I wanted to date but was afraid to ask) asking her help to fix the two of us up.
“I’m glad I was there Morgan. I’m kind of protective of my mother. She’s been through a lot. I can see how nice you and Mom likes you. I...” She seemed to be letting her thoughts get the best of her and caught herself before she said too much.
I wanted to know more about Krissy. Even though she wasn’t the kind of woman I was ordinarily attracted to. But I had been ogling her out of my office window long enough that I really wanted to see if she was as good in bed as she looked like she might be. “When you came back from your walk this morning,” I said, “I couldn’t miss that you were walking arm and arm. And you were laughing. You seem to have a real good relationship with your mom. I noticed the same thing when I was with you two tonight. It’s like you are friends rather than mother and daughter.”
“Ever since I was fourteen, after Daddy and Aunt Martha died in the car accident she’s been like a best friend to me. There aren’t many secrets that we keep from each other.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your dad and your aunt, Rebeccah. Is she ... I mean was she you’re mother’s sister.”
“She and Mom were twins. We all lived together.”
I had to think hard about that one. “That’s unusual. Did you live in another place ... I mean.”
“You mean because we only have two bedrooms in the apartment?”
“Um ... yes. Where did she... ?”
“Sleep?” I nodded. “We were different than any other family that I know. Aunt Martha slept with Mom and Daddy?” I tried not to stare and let her know that I was shocked. “I know we really kept it a secret.”
“Were you close to your Aunt Martha too?”
She giggled. “She’s the one who taught me about boys. She kept telling me that I should try to go out with older boys ... that they were better ... um ... lovers ... said, “As soon as you’re old enough Hun you should find yourself an older man.”
This was more information than I ever thought I would be hearing, particularly from this eighteen year old girl. It was more than I thought I had a right to know. Once again my penis started ironing out its wrinkles. “Was your daddy older than your mom and your aunt Martha?”
“He was ten years older. How old are you Morgan?” I told her I was fifty. “He would have been fifty-one if it hadn’t been for the accident.”
I knew I shouldn’t have asked the question. But the way it was going it seemed to be a night of True Confessions. “So did you ever take your aunt up on her advice?”
Without any hesitation she replied, “I remember how much fun they had in their bedroom. I never saw anything but sometimes I would hear them whooping it up in there. I was twelve when my curiosity got the best of me and II started listening with a glass up against the wall. Feeling like a spy and I was hearing words that I was not allowed to say and words I didn’t understand. The wild emotions they were expressing excited me in a way I didn’t understand. When I started my periods I started getting feelings inside of me which I began to equate with what I thought was going on in their bedroom. When what they were doing in the bedroom before had no physical effect upon me, after I started menstruating, what I heard through the wall made my nipples itch and ache and my cunny feel like it wanted something that I didn’t understand. It was then when I started masturbating—a lot. It was then that Manny—a boy at school—started talking with me about going down to the boiler room to ‘explore’.”
“I think Manny got interested in me because my boobs were getting bigger than most of my classmates. Manny was in my class. A lot of the guys and some of my friends made fun of him because he wasn’t really smart. He had flunked a couple of times but he was nice to me and was real cute. His father was the janitor at the school who had a desk in the boiler room. There was also an old army cot in the bedroom that I suppose he took naps in. One day Manny convinced me to sneak down to the boiler room. I was surprised to see the cot there. There was another cot in the nurse’s room where sometimes a student who go sick would go to lie down. When we got down to the boiler room Manny opened the bottom drawer of his father’s desk and pulled out a deck of cards. We sat down on the cot and Manny started turning over the cards and showing them to me. When I saw the pictures of naked women and men having sex I couldn’t even explain the feelings I had, except that I immediately understood what was going on in the bedroom that my parents and Aunt Martha shared.
I had never been kissed by a boy before but when Manny started kissing me and feeling me up I went wild—I didn’t even realize that he had taken my panties off. But I knew that his finger was inside me. And I was stunned when he took his hard thing out of his pants. I couldn’t keep from grabbing it with my hand and moving the skin up and down. With what I had seen on the cards I understood what was going on in my parent’s bedroom. From the pictures I knew that penises could go inside a vagina. But from what I saw of Manny’s and how big it felt in my hand I also knew his wouldn’t fit inside me. But I wanted it to. It hurt badly when he first put it in ... tore something inside me and I bled (he cleaned himself off and wiped me clean with a Kleenex from his father’s desk. After that it stopped hurting but all I wanted him to do was fuck me. He came real fast but he told me to suck him and he would get hard again. At first I didn’t want to put that slimy, nasty thing in my mouth. But the more I looked the more it appealed to me. And when I put it in my mouth I found that I liked the musky taste and smell of him. And, I loved how the wetness of my vagina tasted and smelled.” Exhausting that short story Rebeccah became quiet.
“Did your mom and Aunt Martha know?” I asked.
“Uh-huh, I told them.”
“Did your dad?”
“No. He wanted me to stay a virgin, at least ‘til I got out of school. But once Manny got his penis inside me we went down to the boiler room every day. After a couple of weeks he told his friend Bruce about it. I was using the cot with Manny one day and Bruce another. I expected a lecture from both Mom and Aunt Martha but they just kind of smirked at each other and told me to be careful ... said that I should always use a condom. They put me on the pill and told me that I should not do it with too many boys, to be selective ... that if people found out they would think I was a slut.”
“So they weren’t pissed at all?”
“Un uh, the way they looked at each other, their lips would kinda curl into smiles. But they didn’t even roll their eyes. I got the feeling that they might have done it a lot when they were young too.” I asked how many boys she’d been with. “Five,” she said. “With the exception of Manny they were all my age, even Bruce.”
“Was your Aunt Martha shy like your mom?”
“Un uh, she was completely different. She knew Daddy before Mom did. Daddy sold women’s clothing ... would set up his line in a showroom in a hotel for a week and have buyers in. Aunt Martha was his assistant, they traveled together. She introduced Mom to him and they went together until Mom got pregnant with me and they got married. Aunt Martha was just always there”
“And Krissy didn’t have any trouble with your aunt traveling with your dad?”
“No way. Mom always wished she could travel with them. But she said that Aunt Martha knew what her “role’ with the buyers was. He didn’t want mom to get involved with them.
I wondered what she meant by “involved.” My suspicions were confirmed when Rebeccah said, “Mom told me that Aunt Martha was often “bait” for some of the buyers.”
“What did you think of that,” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I was doing it with Manny and Bruce at the time. I liked sex with them. Because Mom and Aunt Martha kept telling me that I should find a guy older than them I thought it would be fun to see what the buyers were like. Mom didn’t really say the same thing but I know she was thinking the same thing about them.”
Reaching for my hand Rebeccah squeezed it. I started to pull away but she said “Please?” and held it tightly as she asked, “Do you think you’re going to go to bed with my mother Morgan?”
I still couldn’t get over how forward this eighteen year old girl was. She must have taken after her aunt Martha. “That depends upon Krissy Rebeccah,” I said in answer to her question.
“Do you think might ever go to bed with me?” Though by this time I wasn’t really shocked by her question I was surprised that she asked it. Her eyes seemed to be glowing like embers in a late-night campfire and I could tell that she was squirming in her seat.
“Is that why you threw pebbles against my window?”
“I came to talk with you about Mom.”
“Dammit Morgan,” she said in a frustrated outburst, “you stared at my boobs and my crotch all night.” With her nostrils flaring she paused. “I could see that you were aroused. Whenever you stood up you had that big bulge in your Levis.” I a chuckle of wonder and curiosity she added, “And from what I could see you appeared to be much bigger than Manny or Bruce.”
DAMN I thought she sure has the mind of an older, well experienced woman. The head of my cock felt like it was rubbing itself raw against the coarse fabric of my Levis. Having denied all through dinner and the rest of the evening that Rebeccah was of no interest to me I knew what was going to happen was inevitable. “Your Mom was pretty hot herself Rebeccah. I went there for HER remember? Maybe the bulge was because of HER.”
With a sarcastic sneer she said, “Maybe the Beacham women (her mom and she) are too CONFUSING for you, you poor OLD man.” With a sly smile she went on, “All I know MORGAN is that you haven’t spent much time trying to convince me to go back home and go to bed.” She stuck her tongue in her cheek. “And with all this talk you’ve just your making me feel like I’m going to slide off this chair.” Then almost breathlessly she murmured, “And maybe, just maybe you’re the older man that Mom and Aunt Martha were talking to me about.” With a look the seemed to be trying to hypnotize me she blurted, “I’ll do just about anything to find out.” She slid off her chair onto her knees, shuffled over to where I was sitting, pressed her breasts into my knees and laid her head on my lap. She was more than twenty years younger than me; a reality that I felt carried with it a responsibility to act in an honorable way. But I wasn’t a pervert stalking her. I had done nothing to encourage her—at least in my eyes.
The sexual pull of this young woman with her head on my lap with the suggestion that she was going down on me was so strong. I was gritting my teeth to deny her. She wasn’t a reticent woman like her mother. Maybe she was more aggressive like her aunt Martha: like to the two women on the cruises, women who were fully aware of what they were doing ... who were intent on having their way with me. She seemed like my wife Connie—outwardly hungry. The fact was that she was preparing to use her mouth on me in a way I had not even thought about earlier in the evening. I wanted to help her, to undo my belt and fast-track her to what she hoped for or intended to do.
When I thought, the hell with, we’re both viably sexual human beings I entering into a euphoric state of relaxation. “Not yet sweetie,” I cajoled (Though it was the women who always got me to this point, when sex was eminent I always took control). “I’m the one who’s supposed to be teaching YOU things.” Reaching for her hand I took it in my tender grasp, stood up and hugged her, kissing her lips tenderly. I could see the emotion glistening in her eyes. “I guess it’s time to get down to the lesson.”
Leading her back into my bedroom I switched the bedside lamp to dim and turned her to face me. I tugged at the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up over her body, her shoulders. “Raise your arms Rebeccah.” Pulling it over her head and off her arms I dropped it on the floor. Giving her an appreciative smile I said, “You’re gorgeous sweetie.”
“Ooh Morgan,” she cooed, “this is so hot.” She grasped one hand and created a space between us by flattening her other against my chest and asked, “Are you going to get naked too?”
I worked the metal button of my Levis open and zipped them down. Her eyes, now wide saucers, never left the specter of my thick, seven and a half inch penis which quivered and pranged for conquest. With both hands she reached for, and in child-like wonder, grasped it—her lips oohing but not making a sound other than the whisper of air escaping through the oval’s aperture. When she lifted her face to me she seemed like a little girl that had just opened a new Christmas toy.
Leaning down I kissed her. She had kissed enough to open her lips wide, giving tongue and accepting mine. And her body seemed to be flowing in the kind of rhythm that a Cobra’s would responding to a snake charmer’s flute. Gently prying her fingers from my erection I clutched each cheek of her bottom, found the vee of her legs with my phallus and grazed her vulva with the top of my shaft. As we continued our tongue-tussling kiss I pulled her more tightly against me, feeling the seeping wetness of her clam painting the top of my shaft.
Amidst the tongue-snaking kiss and my clutching hands on her cheeks, the lotion-like slide of my shaft against her nether wetness brought forth a crooning, “This is heaven Morgan.” Our lips blended tightly and we breathing came in sharp gouts as air hissed into my nose and out of hers.
Trying to open her labia she spread her legs as she created a bun for the hotdog of my penis then closed her legs and ground her clit on the top of my hard shaft. The clutch and shudder of her body caused air to blast from both of our noses which made us break our slobbering kiss. In the tiniest possible voice she warbled, “I can’t BELIEVE what just happened.” It was the first man-created orgasm she was ever experiencing.
Lunging she left her feet almost choking me with her wild embrace as she obsessively wrapped her legs around my waist. In our passion both exclamation of urgency and cries of release had me groping for my cock, sliding its glans fiendishly in her gash to lube it. I searched for her entrance of her young cunt with urgency. With a primal gasp I speared her “holy of holies” while she squealed and squirmed in my arms.
The long ago memory of fucking my young wife was too blurred for me to remember the feeling of her tight pussy. Through the years I had grown accustomed to Connie’s dreamlike, supple pocket which always wrapped so deliciously around my swollen maleness. There was never a time when I didn’t marvel at the otherworldly mucous membrane that allowed my sex to move in such lotion-like fulfillment. I didn’t remember her tightness as such but I recalled the clutching softness that always massaged and stroked me to the gut-wrenching explosions of my teeming seed.
Then there was Evelyn on my cruise to China, her twat though looser than Connie’s, had the ability to squeeze intermittently like a milkmaid’s clutching fist on a spurting teat. And Cerise on my European cruise, who was consistently wet and slipper in the constant grip of our delicious couplings.
Funny, I’ve heard so many men talk about the feeling of tight, young pussies. But tightness for me had never been a standard of how I gauged the pleasure of fucking. Entering Rebeccah’s womanhood though, my eyes felt like they were going to blow out of my head. As my tapered glans probed this young girl’s vagina it seemed to be boring its own hole. She was tight yet wet and slippery. It was as if she was gripping my length with the incredible tautness of a well-toned anal sphincter. All the way in, until our mounds finally bumped and compressed, it was like her feminine passageway was spaced with numerous sphincters, all doing their best to squeeze harder than the one before it. My breath seemed to drop from my lungs to my scrotum—a bag SO big. My felt wide open yet distorted like the subject in Evard Munch’s painting The Scream. My ears buzzed like I had fallen and hit my head on the hard ground. Through white noise in my ears I could make out Rebeccah’s loud voice that sounded far away, crying out something in slow-motion cadence : “I T S S O F U C K I N G F A N T A S T I C.” It occurred to me that the young lady was being coarse. But who can’t be coarse when sex is so surreal.
In stark vividness clarity returned. Rebeccah’s arms around my neck felt like they would break it. Her legs squeezed with the power of a boa constrictor’s flexors. In the tightness of our embrace she was trying to hump herself on my cock while imploring, “FUCK me Morgan. Please, PLEASE FUCK me.”
Needing the flat surface of the bed I dropped Rebeccah’s ass on edge of the mattress. Prying her arms from around my neck I eased her back to lie flat on the bed. As she opened her legs and cocked them I pulled my turgid plunger back and rammed hard inside her. “YES,” she declared.
I will never be able to fully describe the feeling of this luscious young woman’s tight pussy around my moving invading ramrod. But I remember the slap, slap, slap of our tummies coming together, along with her accompanying “Yes, yes,” yesses. But I can tell you this, my cock never felt so charged and my balls never tingled with so much electricity.
When I my abs gave out and I slumped on top of her body we were both panting. Rebeccah’s body twitched like a grand mal epileptic’s. “Oh my GOD Morgan,” she cried, ‘I’ve NEVER felt anything like THAT before. “Do it AGAIN Morgan.” With every sinew in my body I fully intended doing it again ... but not before I introduced her to other pleasures.
“Oh NO. Don’t STOP,” she cried in disbelief as I pulled my cock out of her pussy. Bending down I grasped her ankles and lifted her legs. By the time my mouth covered her clam the confused young girl’s struggling protests morphed to, “Oh yes, Morgan, oh, oh, oh, OH,” her body relaxed and she was mewing like a satisfied kitten.
At my age one would think that a ready pussy is just that. But for some reason Rebeccah’s youth made hers softer, tastier—definitely wetter. The fact that mine was her introduction to cunnilingual ecstasy made her responses even more wonder-filled. How did I know I was the first? I just knew. She confirmed it later; after her entire body finished writhing in full orgiastic tumult.
Her childlike and ecstatic responses to my mature ministrations: her first orgasm, first cunnilingus, and first analingus to which she at first objected, “Isn’t this dirty,” was something of which I am still immensely proud ... my first experience as a mentor. I’ve always worshipped women and have striven to give them as much pleasure as I could conceive. For me I was astounded that the “myth” of being with a female so much younger than I was no myth at all. I was both astounded by the experience and I was proud of how well I performed.
There was one thing though that wasn’t a first for Rebeccah, something at which she turned out to be quite practiced. Finally having decided to stop tantalizing her pussy and ass with my tongue I was resting my head on her soft and palpitating tummy. Rebeccah struggled to move her bottom off the bed and fill the area between it and my body.
“It’s MY turn to please YOU,” she said. Taking my glistening erection in her mouth she slurped and moaned as she started bobbing. I could visualize her with her “five boys”. There was no question that she had done it many times and with yeoman-like persistence. Removing her mouth from my cock she held it in her hand, stroking it and inspecting it at the same time. “You’re larger than any of the boys I’ve been with Morgan,” she said. “And I still can’t believe that you haven’t CUM yet.” Holding my swollen phallus against her cheek like Teddy bear she cooed, “And I love the taste of Rebeccah’s sex on you.” Looking up she asked, “Is that bad?”
Chuckling at her concern for propriety I responded, “There’s no ‘bad’ in sex as long as both people are enjoying it Rebeccah. Enjoyment is up to the people who are having it. “Some might consider it kinky I suppose but that is their PRIVATE business. But you love it don’t you.” She wrinkled her nose and gave me an impish grin. “And I love how you said it.” Smiling, I touched the tip of her nose.” So let’s just agree that what we’re enjoying is REALLY good sex.”
“You made me feel so good Morgan and SO grown up. I never realized how good it would feel to have someone else—other than myself—make me cum. It’s so much better.” Concern washed her face. “I hope you don’t think I’m just silly kid Morgan. And I want you to teach me as much as you can.”
She gobbled my cock again bobbing as she made such delicious sounding noises. As she fellated me she “ummed” and sniffed and gagged when the head of my cock hit the back of her throat, stroking me with her hand. She did it slowly, fast then furiously. At one point she took her head off my cock, looked up and said, “You can cum in my mouth if you want to. I can handle it.” She gave me the impish nose-scrunch again. “I actually love the taste and feel of it.”
I stroked her hair and smiled down at her saying, “I want to do it in your mouth sweetie, and I will, but not yet. Do you like the way I fucked you?” I would have never said that to an older woman. But I knew that I did it so much better than any of her boys. It felt so youthful for me to crave this young girl’s confirmation. She nodded enthusiastically. “I don’t want to cum yet honey. I’m going to fuck you again and I don’t want to wait for it to get hard.”
Still marveling that my cock was still hard she seemed to be worshipping it with her eyes. She laughed. “I always beg for them not to stop Morgan. You’re UNBELIEVABLE.”
I asked, “Have you ever done it doggie
“Doggie?” she questioned with a puzzled look in her eyes.
“Have you ever seen two dogs together?
Giggling she blushed and said, “Oh.” I was amused. She had had sex with a good many boys yet level of sophistication was still that of a girl. Maybe she was embarrassed because I was so much older than she and we were talking about a subject she had just realized could be related to human sex. “On the bed?” she asked. I chuckled and nodded. “Do you want me to get up on my knees?”
“Um hmm,” I confirmed as I took her hands and helped her to her feet.
When she stood she scanned my body, playfully slapping my erection with her finger and giggling as it waggled. Hugging me she lovingly put her head on my shoulder and said, “I’m so happy you didn’t make me go away Morgan. This is so WONDERFUL.” I lifted her head and kissed her. She opened her mouth and gobbled my probing tongue. For all the years I had never lusted for younger women I knew I was hooked, at least with this girl. “Doggie,” she murmured. “He-he-he. Doggie.”
I helped her up on the bed where she got on her knees. “Cross your arms Hun and lay your head on your hands. Then lift your bottom high in the air.” She complied. Standing behind her I put my hands on each cheek of her tight bottom and spread them. With my thumbs on the large labia of her pussy I opened her flower. Flexing my hard penis I centered the mauve-colored head against the bright pinkness of her threshold. With my hands on her cheeks and my fingers stretching to her hip bones I steadied her. Pushing in I winced as I penetrated the seeming “non-hole” of her heavenly core. Once again I marveled at the feeling of her tight, young cunt’s tension, yet the ease with which I slid so deeply inside.
“Oh GOD,” she exclaimed, “You’re so BIG Morgan. And you feel so GOOD.” As my glans made the suggestion of a brushing against her cervix she said, “You’re in me so DEEP.” Giggling again she mused, “Doggie,” and she started laugh almost uncontrollably. I smacked her ass and she winced, stopping her laughter. “I’m sorry Morgan,” she said in mock contrition, “but it’s so FUNNY.”
Moving in and out in slow hump I wedged my hands between the mattress and her breasts, coaxing her chest upward and telling her, “One of the beautiful things about doggie Hun is what I can do with my hands while I’m fucking you.” As my cock moved smoothly inside her tight, young vagina I pressed her breasts against her chest and rotated then in a tight circular motion.
“Mm,” she purred, “That feels good. “ I still had trouble believing that she wasn’t flexing her muscles to tighten her vagina. Having only been accustomed to the supple and rather loose interiors of more mature women I was noodling the ‘why’ of a vagina that was tight yet so easy to penetrate. I was becoming more convinced that when God created woman He was at His best at the apex of sexual creation—WOMAN.
Rolling her nipples between my fingers and thumbs brought forth sighing approvals from Rebeccah’s pleasantly surprised mouth. As I began tightening my grip on them she said, “Careful Morgan, be gentle.” I knew it was an admonition she had said to all of her boyfriends except for maybe Sean, the Army guy. I pinched harder. She cautioned, “PLEASE.”
With my cock deep inside her I backed off my grip. She relaxed. “There’s something you’re gonna have to trust me on Sweetie. Remember when Manny broke your cherry?”
“Manny?” she questioned.
I was making the assumption that she hadn’t done it when masturbating or inserting a hard object of some kind inside herself. “It hurt when his penis tore your hymen, right?” Her nod shook her entire body. “How long did it take you to get over the pain of your torn hymen?
Her answer, along with a chuckle, indicated no more than a minute. “I’ve never met a mature woman who doesn’t love to have her nipples pinched so hard that they turn white. I could tell by the relaxation of her body muscles that she was thinking about what I said. “I won’t squeeze them hard Sweetie if you are afraid. But the women I have known have told me that the feeling is heavenly.”
“I WANT to know how it feels,” she implored, tensing her body for my onslaught on her reddened nubbins. As I increased pressure I could feel her entire body tightening another notch. Squeezing harder, I detected but couldn’t fully hear the high pitched squeal of pain resistance. Applying all my force I felt her body grow slack with the outward gush of her breath. She twisted as she quivered in a clutching orgasm then exploded, “OMIFUCKINGGOD!”
Giving the spasms a chance to settle I pulled myself mostly out of her vagina then repeatedly slammed into, banging her to an orgasmic aftershock that, when the wrinkles finally ironed themselves out, left her collapsed flat on the bed.
Lying on top of her I used my elbows to minimize my weight while kissing her neck and ears. It was like being with a satisfied kitten that purred and chortled. Her body was melted into the mattress in total relaxation.
Rolling over on my back I pulled my glistening rod totally out of her now relaxed cunt. As it came free of her a noisy gush of air that had been was pumped into her vaginal pocket escaped with a sloppy, fart-like noise.
“Ooh,” she said in surprise. “Ooh,” as if she was considering. Then, “He-he-he,” which grew into hilarious laughter. When she finally regained control she said, “Everything you do to me Morgan is strange and wonderful.” She reflected. “Mom and Aunt Martha were SOH right about older men.” She pondered. “But they can’t all be as good as YOU.”
I didn’t know if she really meant it or is she was just stroking my ego. But I knew that my wife and the other two women I had been with had praised the way I made love. And I was still hard, something that took me ten years into my marriage before I could accomplish.
Seeming to worship my cock she sucked me again. And she praised me again. I wondered if it was woman’s intuition to praise all men’s expertise and their sexual part—like they God’s gifts. And I introduced her to a new number —sixty-nine. She said she wasn’t familiar with But she had heard the number mentioned more than once through the walls of her parent’s bedroom. It was after I triggered another couple more orgasms where she was making a heroic effort to get me off with a blowjob that I decided to cum in her mouth. The way she acted like a cat with catnip it would have been a surprise to me that she didn’t worship all facets of fellatio. She smeared the residue of semen on my shaft over her face and seemed that she was in a communion-like experience. Like a child with a toy she touched my semen coated head and pulled threadlike filaments the spermatozoa got sticky and finally dried.
Having had only three women to compare Rebeccah to I was still getting an education on women and sex. Connie was exciting at first. Then, as our marriage mature or sex became scintillating comfortable. She was multi-orgasmic and expressive. I had counted seventeen orgasms one night. For a woman with whom I had sex thousands of times there always seemed to be new surprises. Evelyn, on my China cruise, was not exciting. She never had more than two orgasms with a discernable lack of enthusiasm. It was as if she fucked to prove that she was a sexual woman. But she acted the part well. Cerise only had one orgasm during a session. It was huge and she squirted, always feeling the need to clean herself up soon after it happened. I loved the intensity of her climax but always felt an unanswered need to do it again. Rebeccah seemed like she could climax again and again to exhaustion. She wasn’t there yet.
Maybe it was because she was young and athletic we continued fucking. After every conceivable position—sometimes twice and after I had gone through five erections I finally had to tell this demanding girl that my balls hurt too much. I doubted whether I could get it up again. We cuddled together and talked for about forty-five minutes more.
Snuggling up to Rebeccah’s naked body I hugged her tight and asked, “Are you OK Rebeccah?”
Pushing her bottom harder against me and seating it more comfortably she answered, “I can’t remember when I have EVER been so alright Morgan.”
After about fifteen more minutes Rebeccah sighed and said, “I wish I could stay here for a week Morgan but I want to get home before Mom gets u ... she’ll probably be up early, she’ll want to the details about our night together.”
“Will there be a problem?” I asked.
“She’ll be surprised. The last thing she remembered is that I went to bed. But I couldn’t sleep, remember?”
I laughed. But will there be any problem with the “details?”
“Mom’s different than a lot of women Morgan. Remember me telling you about Mom and Daddy and Aunt Martha?”
“She loved that. She loved doing it and loved watching Daddy and Aunt Martha. She has really missed that. When I tell her all about you and me Morgan she is going to get real turned on. I don’t know what she will do.”
Rebeccah looked at me with a harsh look and said. “You said that you were only interested in m mom, remember?” I nodded. “Well just because we did what we did tonight you’re not gonna lose interest in her are you?
I thought about Krissy and thought that if she were half as exciting as Rebeccah she would still be more than twice as exciting as Evelyn and Cerise. I loved the fact that after I got over Connie I was with two women. Here, right next door to me were two available women who excited me. I thought, Maybe I’m in heaven then I don’t think it could possibly be hell. Then I thought I wonder.
“Absolutely Rebeccah,” I answered.
She looked at me as if to say, “You had better be right.”