Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Squirting, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, .

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - An older woman becomes a young mans fantasy dream come true

It's funny, how as a kid you tend to see things so totally different from the reality in which they are. Only when you're confronted with those same memories years later do you really understand the misconceptions we all place on them.

It was how I remembered Mabel, though back then as a kid, we all teasingly called her, Maybelline.

Growing up right next door as a child, I very often made a little extra money back then doing odd jobs such as pulling weeds or mowing the lawn for Mabel and her husband, "Old man Jack" as we had likewise labeled him. There was no denying the fact that he was in fact older than she was herself back then, though "old" to us was anyone over the age of thirty. So his label was in fact somewhat appropriate even for the times as Jack was easily in his forty's back then, and Mabel, or Maybelline was at the most in her early twenties.

Now as kids, the reason we called her Maybelline had a little bit to do with the makeup she wore, so it was an easy reflection of her as a person, along with her character. She did tend to wear a lot of makeup back then, or at least as I remember she did anyway. I remember that she always seemed to have darker than normal eyes, more so than anyone else did who lived around there at the time. Long lashes in addition, certainly fake as that was very much in style too, and always the same shade of bright red lipstick, that for some goofy reason, made my own parents cast doubt on her as being something they called, "A loose woman".

I always wondered about that back then, never quite understanding what it was they meant, making the mistake of asking my parents once what it did mean, and getting sent off to my room for it. I never asked them about stuff like that ever again.

There was another major thing about her too though, that I tended to notice a great deal of, perhaps even more so than her dark almost coal black hair that she wore piled up on top of her head most of the time, not to mention all the makeup. But that was ... she had fairly large breasts. Hell, not fairly ... they were, plain and simply. But again, I think looking back I tended to equate her memory with Dolly Parton for some reason, who at the time was very popular around the area I was growing up in. I think to some extent, that Maybelline, actually copied her look, which was again another subtle reminder, at least of her memory anyway, now looking back.

Even now I find myself smiling, looking back at my very first weeding lesson. Standing there in Mabel's garden while she proceeded to show me, which plants were just that, and which ones were actually weeds. I stood paying close attention, though not so much to the weeds as to her boobs.

Stooping over so she could pull a few herself, showing me how she wanted me to do it and be careful so as not to accidentally pull out the actual flowers, I couldn't help but gaze down the front of her open blouse. I remember clearly the stark contrast of her bronzed skin from hours of sun tanning, or simply working out in the yard in skimpy halter tops, or what was back then not quite a bikini top, more like a permissible bra that could be worn outside. Though even that my mother frowned upon whenever she saw our neighbor dressed like that. Dad didn't frown much however, he mostly smiled in fact, and spent and inordinate amount of time looking out the kitchen window, as long as mom wasn't around shooing him away, usually asking him if he didn't have better things he could be doing as opposed to watching the neighbor flaunt her breasts.

I guess there is some truth to the saying, "boys will be boys", though I know with some degree of certainty, dad wouldn't have been able to stand there the way I was, and get away with looking down her blouse the way I was either. And funny too. Even doing that, all I really saw was a bit more well rounded, not so tanned pink flesh that hinted at what was still covered. I never once saw her nipples or anything even close to that whenever I did get a chance to take a peek without her being aware that I had.

I guess, it was just knowing that they were there, and that I was inches, or fractions of an inch from actually seeing them. Maybe back then, for a young boy growing up, just coming into his early sexuality, it was enough.

Another thing they always used to say, was that things happen in threes. That was certainly the case for me.

After graduating from high school, I immediately left to do a stint in the Army. As it happened, I was but a few short weeks away from getting out when I was called home on emergency leave. Rather than waste a lot of unnecessary time, I was given an early honorable discharge, so went home a civilian as opposed to still being in the service. The bad news was, I went home to bury my parents who'd been killed in an automobile accident. I'd been home less than a month after that, still trying to sort things out, collect myself, when Mabel's husband Jack died from liver disease, no doubt brought on from all the booze he'd been drinking over the years.

That set the stage for what became a very interesting period for me. And a renewal of unexpected circumstance, with Maybelline.


Now, oddly enough, I didn't even see Mabel once during the month after my parent's death. She had herself taken her husband out of state to a hospital that was much closer to where he'd grown up as a kid himself. She spent most of her time living and staying with his sister while he lay dying in the hospital. So it was no surprise that she didn't come to my parent's funeral, though even if she'd been home at the time, I'd have been surprised to see her even then. I mean it wasn't like they were close neighbors or anything, and certainly not friends. And I was sad to hear her own husband had passed away, hearing it from one of the other neighbors who'd been looking after her place while she was gone.

The day she came back home, I made a point of going over to see her, give her my condolences, and for no other reason, just to say hello.

Like I said, it's funny how you remember things, and thus continue to perceive them to be. It was that image of "Maybelline" in my mind when I went over to her place later on that late afternoon when I knew upon seeing her car in the drive, that she'd returned home again.

A bit nervous, and not sure exactly what I was going to say to her beyond "I'm sorry for your loss," I knocked on her door waiting patiently. The fact it took her a while to even answer the door should have told me she was busy doing other things, and that now perhaps wasn't the best time for me to show up and pay a courtesy call. In fact, I even stepped down off the step intending to return home again when I heard her fumble with the lock on the door. The security chain was still engaged when she opened it, peering out towards me.

"Yes? Can I help you?" She asked.

I guess I should have realized I'd changed a little myself too. My own light brown hair was still short, far shorter than she'd ever seen me wear it of course for one. And secondly, I had actually grown another inch or two, not to mention putting on some weight, bulking up a bit. The twenty-two year old she now stood there looking at was a far cry from the skinny, somewhat shorter, much longer haired teenage kid I had been the last time I had seen her, let alone spoken to her.

"Hi ... Mabel? It's me, Steven."

Even then it didn't register for a moment, though her eyes suddenly grew wide as she realized who I was. She confused me further by suddenly closing the door, though it immediately opened again as she disengaged the security chain.

"Oh my god! Steven! Come in! Come in! How've you been anyway?" She asked, though her tone quickly softened from one of excitement to one of sudden realization as she only then remembered what had most recently happened to me too. "I'm so sorry ... about your parents," she then said stepping back into the room inviting me in.

"I'm sorry about..." I was staring, pausing momentarily before finishing my sentence, "your husband," I said stepping the rest of the way in. It was then that I realized I'd just caught her only moments perhaps from stepping into the shower. She hadn't even bothered to throw a robe on. All she had on was a simple bath towel that barely even covered her as it was. Now I was surprised she hadn't asked me to come back later even knowing who I was now. But she hadn't, inviting me to sit down in her living room instead as she took a seat across from me, curling up in the chair, tucking her legs beneath her as she did, though careful about revealing too much of herself.

"Thank you," she said. "Yeah, though it wasn't a big surprise, not like the loss of your parents, I knew this was coming for quite some time now, so I had a little while to get used to the idea, unlike yourself. How are you holding up anyway?"

I was actually doing pretty well, and told her so. I still had a lot of decisions to make, like what I was going to do with the house, live in it myself, or sell it and find another less expensive place to live in. There was still a lot of paperwork to sift through as well, so it wasn't all going to happen overnight either. I had a lot of work ahead of me, but at least I wasn't in any real rush to get there. But I wasn't in any rush to leave anytime soon either. Sitting there, I had flash backs to the days where I used to stand there trying to peek down her blouse, only now, sitting across from her the way I was, I was peeking at something else entirely. A new scene suddenly coming to mind, one of Sharon Stone sitting in the police station for one.

"Listen, I know I caught you at a bad time," I told her intending to leave. "We can always catch up again later."

She smiled at that, once again swinging her legs out from beneath her back to the floor, giving me the brief paused peek between her legs that Sharon had so mischievously given Michael Douglas.

"I'd like that ... a lot. Perhaps you might feel like coming over for dinner later or something so we can really catch up on one another's lives?" she asked.

"I'd like that, but you just got home yourself, the last thing you want to do is worry about fixing dinner. How about we go out?"

The moment I said that however, I realized I didn't have a car. It was the number one item on my "things to do list", which I hadn't really had the time to look into yet. With mom and dad's car being totaled in the accident, I was currently without any wheels.

I chuckled nervously, realizing my stupidity, adding. "Ok if we take your car though? I'm currently without any wheels."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "As long as you don't mind driving with the top down," she told me. Something's wrong with my being able to put it up again, and I haven't had the time nor the inclination to have it looked at yet."

It was a classy little car, an older model Camero, that wasn't perhaps in the best shape, but it still looked cool, and the only car she'd ever had as far as I knew. I even told her I'd look at it myself as soon as I had time, but in the meantime, driving with the top down was just fine with me.

"You like Italian?" she asked.

I did, it was one of my favorite foods.

"Good, there's a nice little Italian restaurant just up the canyon, been years since I was there last, always wanted to go there again. You mind if drive up there to eat?" She asked.

I knew where it was, though I'd honestly never eaten there myself. "It's a date, pick you up around eight? Eight thirty?" I asked. "Do we need to call and make reservations?"

"A date huh?" she smiled winking at me. "What will the neighbors think?

"Fuck the neighbors!" I said without even realizing I'd just used the "F" word. Blame that on my recent stint in the Army where for most of the guys I'd been in the service with, the word fuck was used about every third word.

She laughed upon hearing me say that, now standing, though trying very hard to keep the towel from tumbling away from herself. It had in fact parted behind her, one hand now holding it against her large breasts, the other somehow reaching around behind in an effort to keep it closed.

I guess my confused expression told her I'd missed whatever joke I'd just made.

Once upon a time, I think your parents along with a lot of other folks around here thought I was doing just that ... fucking the neighbors!" She said, now alerting me to what I'd just said, still laughing about it, though I now joined her, somewhat sheepishly in doing so.

"Well, not me ... I never did," I told her.

"No ... you were always too busy peering down my blouse to think about things like that," she now added.

Once again, my expression said it all, my face suddenly growing beet red.

"You ah ... you ah knew that huh?"

Once again she burst out laughing. "Oh yeah, I did, and maybe I shouldn't say this, but whenever you did, there was a fairly noticeable indication that you were that you quite often didn't do well at concealing, so then I knew for sure you had been."

"Sorry about that," I said apologizing for my teenage hormones.

"Oh don't be. To be honest, I found it very flattering, and had you been older, and had I not been so worried about NOT fucking the neighbors, I might have even considered it."

Once again we both laughed, reminding one another about the time for our "date", and then I turned finally prepared to leave. She didn't follow me back to the door, now standing at the foot of the stairs instead.

"See you in a few hours then," I stated reaching for the door, opening it and then turning. I watched as she just then removed her towel completely, throwing it over her shoulder as she slowly began ascending the stairs. She looked back sort of sideways towards me, smiling even broader now than she had.

"Make it nine," she told me. "I want to make myself look pretty ... for our date."

After I had actually stepped outside closing the door, I'd come up with the line, "You couldn't look any prettier than you do now," But by then of course, it was too late, and I'd stepped outside, nearly tripping over my tongue as it was. I in fact missed the first step, nearly falling on my face. It would have been ironic for me to have broken my arm, or leg or something, and spend the night in a hospital, as opposed to sitting with Mabel inside some cozy, darkened little Italian restaurant. Still ... I wish I'd said something as opposed to just stepping out and closing the door after she'd said that.

I then ran across the yard back to my own place, careful so as not to trip over anything and still break my leg after all that. Luckily, the gods and fate were with me, as I made it inside safely enough, but the "woody" I was now sporting, would have to be dealt with, long before dinner, or I'd be just like that teenage kid all over again, standing in her garden.

It was way early, barely past five o'clock as I stepped into the shower readying myself for our friendly, neighborly date. With plenty of time on my hands, amongst other things, I actually lay down in the tub, letting the warm shower caress me, much like her hands might as I allowed myself to slip off into fantasyland. The difference now being ... I had something substantially more to feed those fantasies and thoughts than I'd ever had. I had actually ... finally, for the first time ever, seen her boobs. And not only that, I'd seen a lot of other things too, and they all added up in my book, as someone totally different than the Maybelline I once knew as a kid.

Times had indeed changed. She probably still wore a lot more makeup that most other women her age did, but it looked good on her, at least in my own opinion. Her hair was still dark too, or reasonably so anyway, though she had changed her hairstyle, letting it fall free just past her shoulders. I had noticed a few wisps of grey peeking out here and there as she sat there talking to me in addition to that. I knew that was due to a lot of emotional stress in her life, especially lately. She certainly was by no means at an age where she should be turning prematurely grey already, but it had started. And she had changed her color of lipstick too, unless she wasn't even wearing any, which I supposed was a possibility. Her lips were more natural in color, still more thick than thin, but not nearly as much so as I remembered them being. I actually sat there in the tub, a vision of my lips kissing hers, though I quickly added the image of her hand wrapped around my cock as she did that, just to change the rating on my fantasy from PG to R at least.

It wasn't long after that, that I treated myself to a nice hard orgasm there in the shower.

I had no misconception about this dinner going anywhere either. The fact she had let me see her naked, was more of an old flirtatious tease than promise the way I saw it at the time, though I was certainly open to more than that if the situation should arise. But going in, I held those thoughts in check.

After getting out of the shower and dressing, I then called to make reservations, though told they weren't necessary, though taking them anyway. I then sat around for the next two hours just waiting for time to pass.

I knocked on her door precisely at nine o'clock. She met me coming out with her keys in hand, handing them to me. It was still muggy outside. She had worn a simple white peasant blouse just off the shoulder, along with a somewhat modest skirt, though it was red. Mom would have called them "slutty clothes", especially seeing them on Mabel, but I thought she looked magnificent, and told her so. Her long dark hair remained full, and free about her head and shoulders, an entirely new look from the one I remembered, and it looked damn good on her. She looked ten years younger at the least than she even was then.

The drive up to the restaurant took less than thirty minutes. We were soon ushered over to a small, but intimate little table next to the front window. It would have been the perfect setting for a romantic, intimate little dinner together. But that's not what we were there for, at least as it turned out. As we ate, Mabel somehow got the conversation always directed at me, with me basically telling her everything I had done since leaving high school and joining the service. Trying to get her to talk about herself was like pulling teeth. Mostly, it was more about me, the girls I had known or dated, though we even then didn't discuss anything too intimate or embarrassing. Not that I had a lot of experience, I didn't. I had in fact only lost my virginity a little over a year ago. And had only had intercourse perhaps a half a dozen times since then, and mostly with only the second girl I'd ever been with after that. It had been months now, since I had.

One thing I did enjoy, and once again went back to my time in her garden in doing, was taking the occasional peek at her breasts as we sat there talking, laughing, and reminiscing about past days together. Though wearing a bra, it was a lacy one, and as she moved, it periodically shifted, just enough to occasionally give me glimpses of what I now knew to be her very dark nipples peeking through. This was far more of course than I'd even seen as a kid. And though it certainly wasn't low cut, her well-rounded breasts were sculpted clearly, and held up firmly by that sexy lacy bra she was wearing.

It was the first strike of lightning, followed by a clap of thunder coming outside that alerted us we were about to get rained on. Which is when we of course both realized, we couldn't put the top up!

We dashed outside, the intent to try and outdrive the storm before it really hit. So far just a few raindrops seemed to be reaching us, nothing too significant. Unfortunately, all that was about to change.

We had made it about halfway down the canyon when the rain really started coming down. I knew then if we didn't find some sort of cover soon, we'd both be drenched. But it was basically too little too late even then when I found a small side road heading into the trees off the road. I took it, parking the car beneath a canopy of tall fir and pine trees. We were still getting a little wet even then, but not nearly as much as we would have should we have continued on.

The moment I parked the car, Mabel got out. Just as I was, my hair now basically plastered to my head, my shirt dripping wet ... so was hers. Only with it being white, it had gone nearly transparent. I could now clearly, and easily see her breasts, her bra just as saturated as her blouse, her dark nipples clearly showing through, pressing against the material as it now clung to her like paint rather than material. It was hard not trying to look, but I did, more than once, and she of course noticed, laughing when she herself looked down and realized what it was I could see.

"Guess this wasn't the best thing to wear out in a downpour now was it?" She stated, though she made no attempt to cover herself either. If anything, she now lifted her head upwards towards the rain, stepping out into it more fully than we'd even been inside the car. "You know what I've always wanted to do but never have?" She asked.

"No ... what?"

She looked over towards me, smiling, but not saying. And then she reached down pulling her blouse up and over her head. That was interesting enough, but even as she tossed that into the backseat of her car, she was already reaching around to undo her bra, tossing it in back as well a moment later.

The only thing I could think of to do, was to stand there and stare at her without saying a word. Once again she tossed her head back laughing, and then looking up towards the sky, letting the rain hit her face, and now her bare breasts as she lifted her arms upwards, embracing it.

She looked to me like a goddess, or a half naked genie at the very least about to grant someone his wish, only I didn't know that yet, or know that she was about to grant a wish I hadn't even made yet.

When she reached off to one side, and unzipped her zipper, now removing the red skirt she was wearing, I was starting to think along those lines.

"Have you ever run naked in the rain before?" she asked.

"Well once, but that was actually sprinklers, and I think I was like four or five at the time, out in the backyard at home," I told her, still mesmerized when I saw her likewise remove the thong she also had on. For some reason, that surprised me perhaps more than anything else. Not that she removed it, but that she was even wearing one. I don't know why ... but I had pictured her in something else, certainly not "granny panties" as they called them, but certainly not a thong either. Point being ... now she was naked, entirely, except for her red sandals, which is all she had on.

"Come on ... run with me," she invited. In the next instant, I was tossing my clothes into the back of the car along with hers. I was a little embarrassed too. Funny how the mind works, especially the male prideful mind in these particular moments. I was naked, without an erection, and was embarrassed that I didn't. Wouldn't I have been more embarrassed had it been just the opposite? Maybe, maybe not ... but at the moment I was, even dropping my hand down between my legs in some sort of effort to cover myself as she reached out her hand towards me, only then starting to run off in the direction of what appeared to be a small meadow.

I caught up to her easily, taking her hand as she led me on a carefree run through the rain. A rain I hardly even noticed, nor did I feel it as being cold either. Every fiber of my being happened to be on fire at the moment, and even the deluge we were now in, couldn't have put me out if it had gone on like that for days.

And still I ran, without getting an erection. It felt that good, that peaceful, that nice. It was the most exciting, erotic, sensual moment of my entire life, and we really hadn't done a thing!

Winded, laughing, still holding hands, Mabel came to me almost by accident. With the ground now beginning to become saturated, the few bare spots within the field were turning to mud. Quite naturally she slipped going down. Still holding her hand, my first instinct was to somehow catch her and keep her from doing so. I had no footing in order to accomplish that. The moment she went, she took me with her quick as that. Before either one of us knew what was happening, we were lying there together on the ground, in the mud and the rain, me having fallen almost directly on top of her.

It was like a scene in a movie. Seriously. I know I could probably google an infinite number of romantic love scenes where two lovers are kissing, or making love out in the rain. I don't care. Maybe it had been done a hundred different times in a hundred different ways, but never like this. Not in my mind anyway.

One moment we'd been running, laughing, holding hands. In the next, we were a muddy mess, lying on the ground, our lips crushed together kissing passionately. Limbs entwined, hands suddenly everywhere at once. It was as though the skies were waiting for this to happen, as suddenly the rain stopped, though we didn't.

And then she was spreading her legs, my cock at the entrance of that wet delicious pussy. I pressed, feeling her lips suddenly surround, engulfing me, but before I pushed inside her all the way, she cautioned me.

"You can't cum inside me," she said apologetically..."I'm not using anything."

I nodded my head in understanding, and then filled her. I felt my prick caress her cervix, tickling her there before sliding out, and then in again just as quickly. We began to move together, slowly fucking, nice deep penetrating thrusts as her legs came up to wrap around me, her hands digging into my back as she moaned audibly, loudly. We began to slowly pick up speed, though I now began to worry, feeling the pleasured release already tightening my balls.

"I can't ... too soon..." I breathlessly spoke, trying to fight and control the urge.

"My mouth!" She said just as breathlessly, suddenly disengaging herself from me, rolling me over as she did, and then just as quickly sitting down on my face, her mouth all but swallowing my cock as I speared her with my tongue simultaneously.

I felt the first spurt of my release as it began filling her mouth. As it did, she began climaxing too, surprising me when she did as I'd not expected or anticipated that she too was as close as she was. As she came, I tasted the sweetness of her own honeyed nectar that oozed from her split like whipping cream. She didn't exactly squirt ejaculate like some women could and did, but her climax was definitely different than any woman I had known or been with. I wanted to wash my face in her spending, smear it all over, which I basically did. Mabel continued to suck me dry, even long after we were both spent, we lay there on the wet ground, only then beginning to feel the dampness.

"Well, what a mess we are!" She laughed looking down at herself. We were covered in mud, almost from head to foot, and began brushing one another off with clumps of wet grass, until we had gotten most of it. Making our way back to her car, we put on as little as we could get away with for the drive back. Mabel put her blouse back on, along with her tiny little thong, and nothing else. I did likewise, putting on my shirt and my shorts, and then we finally got back on the road heading home.


I'd like to say we got home, ended up showering together, and then made mad passionate love the rest of the night. Unfortunately, that didn't happen. I was surprised that shortly after we had reentered the road, how quickly Mabel's mood seemed to change. Even sitting there half naked, which had already begun to arouse me all over again, she seemed subdued, withdrawn.

Confused, worried and concerned she was having seconds thoughts about what had just happened between us, I finally asked her about the sudden change, and if she was in fact upset that it had happened, and that we'd ended up fucking the way that we did.

"It's not that Steven, I enjoyed it very much ... you know that I did. I needed it in fact, perhaps more than you realize. But it's me ... there are things about me you don't know, perhaps wouldn't understand. And the fact we enjoyed what we did, is what now worries and concerns me. If I were to tell you things ... I fear you would find them disgusting, and no longer wish to have anything to do with me."

I tried very hard to get her to open up to me after that, but she simply refused, finally telling me that now was not the time or the place to get into it, if in fact ... we ever did. She told me she needed time to think about it more, and then if she found courage enough to tell me, she would. But she also said, that until then, it wasn't fair for us to continue doing what we'd just started either. With tears in her eyes, she bolted from the car the moment we pulled into her driveway, and entered the house closing the door behind her without saying another word.

As I stood in the shower finally washing away the rest of the caked on mud that still clung to me, I tried desperately to imagine what horrible acts, or deviant desires she might have. Those thoughts eluded me, try as I might. I considered almost everything, many of which even I found despicable, deplorable, but in doing so ... still could not see her doing those types of things either. I was at a loss for words, or further ideas. I could only hope that she would eventually come around and decide to take me into her confidence, share with me the secrets that she obviously found too wickedly horrible to share with me then.


I didn't see her at all the following day. She seemed to have gone into seclusion, though to be honest, I didn't go over and knock either hoping to see her. What I had hoped, and waited for, was that she might come out on some errand, or that she'd go outside in the back of her yard and lay out or something. But I never saw so much as a curtain move inside the house. I also knew she had my number, as I had hers, and thought several times about calling her. I then made up my mind to give her that entire day at least, just in case she was using it to consider speaking to me about whatever horrible thoughts she might actually entertain. I would give her that, but I would at what I considered a reasonable hour first thing in the morning, go over to her place and finally knock on her door.

As it turned out, she came to my door instead.

She was properly dressed for the day, looking as though she was going out on some errand. It was seven fifteen in the morning, and I had barely rolled out of bed myself, just putting on the coffee when I heard her knock at my back door. Surprised, though delighted to see her, I invited her in, the coffee now made as I poured us each a cup, sitting down at the table. Few words even then passing between us. I waited patiently, my gut telling me that she had finally made her decision to talk to me about whatever it was.

"Your parents were right about me," she began, which even then didn't fully register. "Not about me sleeping with the neighbors, or anyone around here. And technically, I never fucked anyone but my husband," she then added.

"What do you mean technically?" I asked curious, but my gut told me that there was a lot more to this, and perhaps that some of it, I just might actually find repulsive or disgusting, and the thought of that made me ill. I had just had one of the best experiences of my entire life with her, and I felt that was about to be taken from me.

"Did you ever think it odd I was married to a man who was so much older than myself?" She now asked.

"No ... not really, why?"

She paused, reconsidering her approach having seen my reaction, which was still more confused than anything as I tried to calmly sit there and wait for her to explain where she was going with this.

"Jack was the only man I ever had intercourse with, but he wasn't the only man I had pleasures with."

"Ok," I said trying to absorb this, but even that hadn't shocked or surprised me, though I continued to wait for the other shoe to drop, which it soon did.

"I married Jack when I was just eighteen, I was fascinated with him, his virility, the way he made me feel like a woman, innocent as I was. At first, it was just us ... Jack pleasured me in ways I never even knew existed, and because of that, I trusted him implicitly. Once I did ... and once he knew that, he began introducing other men into our sex-life, men at first I was hesitant to include, but he convinced me how much he enjoyed it, enjoyed seeing me pleasured, how much it pleasured him to see me pleasuring other men. But always ... always ... with the promise no other man except for himself would ever be allowed to fuck me."

I now had a pretty good inkling where she was headed with this, visions of her involved in some sort of an orgy, with several other men present perhaps now filled my mind. Even then, I wasn't as appalled by having heard this as I might have been.

"It's not your fault, he forced you into doing that!" I told her, thinking she would hear in my words that I didn't hold her accountable, nor would I look at her any differently because of it.

"He didn't force me. I did so willingly. At first of course, it was because I thought it pleased him, which it did. But then ... after a while, I did it because I wanted to, because I wanted to feel the thrill of doing what I did with other men, friends, even coworkers, and then after a while ... men we'd simply pick up in a bar, where we'd then get a room, invite them up..."

"Them?"

Now I could see the fearful look in her eye as she looked at me, my reaction, wondering if she should even continue, or call it quits there.

"Go on," I urged her, smiling, trying to let her see somehow that though surprised yes, I wasn't even now trying to judge her.

"Yes ... them," she began again. "We'd find four, five maybe even six guys in an evening. We'd tell them all to come to our room at a certain time, none of them would usually know about the others, until of course after they began showing up. It was rare that any of them would ever leave once they had, only a very few ever did. But we generally were pretty good about our selections, finding men who we felt would enjoy the limitations we placed on them if they were to stay."

"So what happened, I mean ... not so much about what actually happened, but obviously something changed between the two of you. What I seem to remember, or recall, is that you and Jack never were very close as a couple as I remember it, growing up next door."

"No ... by then we weren't, not really. Like I said, in the beginning, it was all Jack's idea, and I went along with it ... because of him, for him. But then ... after a while ... I went because I wanted to, I began enjoying it ... no longer doing it for him, but doing it for me!"

"And that's when he wanted to stop."

She nodded her head at my guess. "Yes, he decided he'd had enough ... seen enough, but I told him I hadn't. I told him he'd be the only man I'd ever fuck, ever have sex with in that way. But I also told him, if he made me stop, I'd never fuck him again, and that I'd then start fucking everyone else except for him. I even told him he could divorce me if he wanted, let me go ... but that I wasn't going to stop doing what I was doing, what I now so very much enjoyed. So you see Steven, he loved me, he never divorced me, though I gave him plenty of reason to do so. And I never betrayed that one promise, that one act, not with any man. Until I met you."

I sat back in my chair, still trying to digest all of this. "Well, that really doesn't count now does it? I mean, I am sorry your husband died, I really am. But it wasn't your intent to keep that vow to him now was it? Even after his death?"

"That vow? No. Not that one, otherwise you and I wouldn't have ... no matter what. But you see Steven, what I'm trying to tell you is this. I have no intention of not doing what I've always enjoyed doing ... with other men. That's why you needed to know, before we went any further than we already have. I won't lie to you about who I am, what I like, and what I enjoy doing. So if that sickens you, disgusts you ... which it probably does, better you know it now before I make things any worse than they probably are now."

Admittedly, now having heard this, heard it in her own words, I couldn't help but wonder if she was right. I couldn't even imagine it really, though I sat there actually trying to. She stood, preparing to leave.

"Maybe I should go. I've already said more than I probably should have, but now you need some time alone to think about what I've just told you. I don't blame you in the least if you now look at me differently than you have, than you once did, even as a boy. You now know my secret, my past ... but you also know now who it is that I really am."

"No, please ... don't go, sit down. I want to hear all of it. Yes, I'll admit, I am a bit shocked, surprised. But just like you said, and asked me, I'm now asking you. Tell me all of it so that I can think about it and decide for myself. But I want to know the whole story, what it is you do, and why ... why you enjoy it, before I make up my own mind about any of this."

To my surprise, Mabel sat down. "Well, ok ... but once I begin, you'll hear it all, every nasty little tid-bit. But ... know this much too, even with all those men, I always practiced safe-sex. And of course, Jack was always there to see to it that they all understood what was expected, and what wasn't. We never had any problems with anyone attempting to force me to do anything they already knew I wouldn't do. And as long as they were good with that, so was I. I never gave anyone a blowjob without them wearing a condom, not once. Not all of them liked that, but if they wanted that and not just a hand-job, then they had to abide by that agreement as well. But the thing was ... whether I sucked them, or just jerked them off ... for me, it was the sensation, the feeling of a man's cum spurting against me. They could cum on me wherever they wanted to, but just on me ... never in me. Never in my pussy, or in my ass, or in my mouth. But, wherever else they wanted to they could. And I loved it. I loved feeling it, seeing it, watching all those different sized and shape of cocks squirting. Some more than others, but again, that too was part of the fascination for me. I love seeing a man spurt, always have. And the more cocks I see doing it, the better. That's where I derive my enjoyment Steven, that's what gets me off. I just love watching a man's hard stiff cock squirting. I love jacking a man off, just to see that, and have very often approached men with no other purpose in mind than that. I've walked up to total strangers, men I've learned to judge carefully, cautiously. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they let me. Whether it's a quick jerk off in the bushes at the park, on the bus, in the back of a storage room at a store, or even a dressing room. That's what I do, what I enjoy doing and seeing. Maybe none of that makes any sense to you, it probably doesn't. But that's who I am, what I like, and what I have every intention of continuing to do."

She was right about one thing, she'd given me a great deal to think about. And I was admittedly torn, my emotions at the moment jumbled and confused, I didn't know what to think, still trying to imagine it all. But the other thing that surprised even me ... was the fact that I was very aroused having heard all this.

Once again Mabel stood, as did I. By the look on her face she had said everything there was to say, preparing to leave. When I stood however, there was no denying the obvious. My robe was tented out, my hard stiff cock pressing against the fold, obscenely so. She looked down, her face clearly surprised upon seeing that, now looking up towards me, confusion clearly evident.

"You're ... you're hard?"

I looked down at myself, smiling. "Yeah, I guess I am." I then looked back up at her, more of a serious expression on my face. "Not going to lie to you either. You have given me a lot to think about, and I will ... I promise you that. But until I do that, until I decide if what you told me bothers me or not, at the moment ... I'm not going to decide one way or the other. Right now, all I want to do ... is cum for you, if ... you'd like me to do that."

"Really? You would?"

Just seeing the excitement in her eyes confirmed everything. I knew then I would either have to accept her for the person she really was, or chalk up the whole thing to experience and go on. But at the moment, that decision would have to wait. I hated to admit it, but I was definitely aroused, and in much need of release.

"Yes, I would. The only question I have at the moment, is do you want me to do it? Or do you? And that doesn't mean I'm come to any decisions either, all it does mean is that I will think about it. But until then ... well hell, I'll just say it. I'm fucking horny!"

"Me too!" Mabel giggled, and then began removing her clothes.


Within moments, we were both naked, standing there in my kitchen facing one another. I saw how aroused she'd become by the way she stood there just shaking as she reached out, her hand grasping my hard stiff cock. Similarly, I reached down, my own hand cupping her mound, my finger toying with her slit. She was soaked, more so than she'd been with me there in the rain. She was literally dripping wet, almost as though she had already climaxed, and I have wondered for a moment, if she hadn't.

"It won't take long ... not this time."

"Good. I don't want long ... this time," she told me, though there was hope in her eyes that it wouldn't be the last time either.

That I couldn't give her yet. But I could give her now, and did.

"I'm going to cum," I announced almost as quickly, already the surge of my unexpected, unanticipated release was beginning to work its way up my shaft. Mabel knelt down before me, holding my cock against the side of her face. I spurted. I watched the first streamer of my spunk land against her cheek and then tangle in her hair. She switched sides at once, resting my prick against her other cheek as I spurted again, mimicking almost identically to that side of her face what I'd done to the first. She then pulled my prick down to her neck, squirting her there, to her breasts, each one taking the next liberal dose of my cream as she continued to pump it out of my prick, laughing deliriously now as I did so.

Finally spent, I pulled her back up to me, kissing her. Our tongues fought wildly for a moment. And then she placed her hand on my somewhat flaccid prick again.

"How long?" She asked.

"Long enough to finger you, so I can watch you cum," I told her. "And then you can do it again, wherever, and however you'd like."

"Where's your bedroom?" She asked. "I've never been in it you know..."

"I know," I told her. And then I took her there.


Unlike the day, and night before, we spent the entire rest of the day and that evening together. She was almost insatiable, which perhaps should have been another reminder to me, she was untamable as well, had that been my intent. I was amazed at her voracity to make me cum, as often as she could. She purely and simply enjoyed watching it, watching me spurt, until I had nothing left to give her.

By the time we were finished, she was covered in spunk, literally from head to toe. The last had been no more than a few squeezed out droplets. But even this, she'd insisted on my rubbing them between her toes as I came. Milking out the last of what remained, which wasn't much, though we had by now each of us lost track of the number of orgasms we had given one another. I had made her cum twice just from eating her, and then just before pulling out to have her milk me against her toes, from fucking her. Only the second time now that we had.

I was drained, exhausted, and now of a more reasonable mind. As though sensing this, sensing that even if this had been our one and only time together, it had all been worth it. Even if after this we never came together again.

She didn't even bother dressing. Just slipping out the back door, crossing the yard naked towards her own. My cream running off her in little rivulets as she did so.

It was the most erotic sight I had ever seen as she disappeared back inside her house.


I slept soundly until early the next morning, waking still undecided about it all. Yet aroused once again. My cock hard, stiff and straight even before I could remove the sleep from my eyes as I opened them, my hand already grasping my prick in remembrance of the day before. I rolled over looking at the clock, it was a quarter to eight. Even before I climbed out of bed so I could try and pee, I picked up the phone dialing her number. She answered without saying hello.

"You're up?" She asked

"You might could say that," I chuckled. "In a moment, I'm going to go into the bathroom and try to pee. After that, I'm going to start jerking myself off."

All I heard was the dial tone as I made my way into the bathroom. Peeing would have to wait.


I was actually standing there looking down into the water, masturbating myself when she came up from behind me, again naked.

"Here, let me do that."

I closed my eyes groaning at the sudden pleasurable touch of her hand on my cock. "You want to go back to the bedroom?"

"No. I want to watch you spurt into the water. I want to see how much cum you produce first thing in the morning, especially after yesterday. I want to see it float on the surface, and then watch it spiral down after we flush it away," she said lustfully.

Admittedly, that was a bit kinky, but it had likewise aroused me, weirdly so perhaps. But I stood there, now staring down at the water, watching her hand as she stood behind me, slowly working, pumping my prick expectantly.

"Always tell me," she then said. "Even when I know you are ... tell me anyway, I like hearing it."

It didn't take very long after that. It felt too fucking good.

"I'm going to squirt, I'm going to spurt ... I'm going to shoot my fucking load!" I told her. I didn't know what to say, what she'd prefer hearing, so I said it all. But she seemed to love hearing it, every bit of it, coaxing me to continue.

"Yes! Yes! Squirt for me Steven, shoot your creamy spunk! Let me see it hit the water! Tell me! Tell me! Tell ... me!"

"I'm fucking cumming!" I screamed out, looking down just as she was, watching rope after rope of my sperm splashing into the toilet, her hand wild now upon me, pumping my prick furiously in an attempt to drain me of every last possible drop.

She licked her fingers clean stepping off to the side around me. I stepped back as she sat down on the toilet taking my place. I answered the unasked question.

"You're going to need to give me a while, especially after last night, and now this morning."

"We're in no hurry here," she told me. "So enjoy yourself ... just as I did." And with that, I stood there watching her fingering herself, already I could see the beginnings of her own white creamy substance beginning to appear in the folds of her pussy lips.

It wouldn't take nearly as long as I'd first thought.


I stood there watching her finger herself. Watched as her own creamy substance poured from her pussy, oozing out of her cunt, dripping into the bowl. I could hear the decadent sounds she made as she teased herself, purposely fucking her cunt in such a way that I could hear the sound of her juices as she pleasured herself.

I was hard again.

I reached down easily lifting her off the seat, as I did, she slid easily down onto my shaft, locking her legs around my waist.

"Don't..."

"I know ... I won't," I assured her, and then thrust into her deeply, pinning her back against the wall as I began fucking her wildly and as fast as I possibly could. She cried out then in pure orgasmic bliss seconds later, pounding into her again and again, until she came again, crying out, clenching herself to me.

"I'm gonna..."

"CUM!" She screamed out, and then held me so tightly to her that I had no other choice. And I began filling her pussy with my sperm.


We went downstairs for coffee after that, once again sitting at the kitchen table. For a moment neither one of us spoke, still lost in thought.

"So? Where are we ... anywhere?" She asked.

"Everywhere, and nowhere," I told her honestly, as I still hadn't really come to any decisions yet. "But I have decided one thing," I began as she looked on worriedly. "Before I finally do decide how I feel about all this ... about everything, I now know, I need to see it for myself. I need to see you with other men, I need to know how I'd feel about that, good or bad. So until I do that, I don't think I can honestly tell you one way or the other."

She thought about that only for a moment before replying. "Yes, perhaps you should. Maybe that is the only way you'll truly know for sure one way or the other. When?"

"As soon as we can, I think," I told her, now not at all sure I had the courage enough to actually go through with it, but I could now see she was committed to it herself.

"Tonight then. I know where and what to do. Just be ready. She now stood her mind made up, though now so was mine. "I'll call you in a couple of hours with all the details, just leave everything up to me." And with that, she was out the door again. I sighed heavily, knowing that after tonight ... one way or the other, I would know if we had any sort of a future together. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen. There was no stopping it now. There was no point in it anyway, I needed to know. Had to know. And before the evening was over with, I would know.

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