Chapter 3: Lesson Two: How to Use Your Mouth

I’m back in my room, door shut, boxers still sticky from the mess she made me leave on her breast. My mind spins in tight circles, replaying the taste of my own cum on her fingertip—salty, warm, mixed with the faint sweetness of her skin. My cock is already half-hard again, twitching against the cotton every time I remember how she licked her lips and called me her good boy. Sleep doesn’t come easy. Every heartbeat feels like her voice whispering “Next week you get to taste Mommy’s pussy ... with your mouth.”

Exactly seven days later, Thursday night returns like a secret ritual. Dad’s car rumbles out of the driveway for poker. I’m waiting in my room wearing only boxers, heart hammering so hard the pulse echoes in my ears and my shaft. The knock is soft, familiar. I open the door and there she stands.

Laura wears a loose white tank top that clings to her damp skin and tiny black panties that ride high on her hips. Her hair is pulled into a fresh ponytail, still glistening from the quick shower, but underneath the clean scent I catch that faint vanilla-sweat trace that always drives me insane. She doesn’t speak. She simply takes my hand again, fingers warm and sure, and leads me down the hall to the master bedroom.

The door locks with that same soft click. She wastes no time. She peels the tank top up slowly, letting me watch her C-cups bounce free, nipples already tight and flushed. Then her thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties. She slides them down her toned legs and steps out, completely bare. She climbs onto the big bed, props herself on pillows, spreads her sculpted thighs wide, and pats the mattress right in front of her.