Turbulence
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2019 by Peter Duncan

Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1 - On the way to a semester abroad, Arthur (17) meets Colette, a British Airways stew who takes him to her flat and introduces him to sex. He soon meets Sioban, a girl in class with whom he has a romp in his room. He and Ryan, his roommate, meet twins and have sex with them in their father's house. A weekend at Colette's Cotswolds cottage brings Sioban, Colette, and Arthur's roommate together. In Chapter 15 his mother(Abby) comes to visit him and they take a trip to Colette's Cotswolds cottage.

Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/Fa   Fa/Fa   Ma/Ma   Consensual   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   True Story   School   Cheating   Sharing   Incest   Mother   Son   MaleDom   Group Sex   Swinging   Anal Sex   Analingus   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Safe Sex   Sex Toys   Squirting   Voyeurism   Public Sex  

When the chime on the airplane rings and the captain announces “turbulence ahead” one can feel nervous anticipation throughout the cabin. In the days before smoking was prohibited on airplanes, half the passengers would light up to calm their nerves. Tension filled the cabin along with cigarette smoke that could be cut with a knife.

At seventeen years of age, I had never smoked. Trying my hardest to keep from gagging from the cloud of smoke that seemed to have instantaneously filled the cabin I feared that the airplane would shake apart from being tossed about in midair. Having chosen a window seat I had thought that I would be able to see the ground, the sea, or whatever was below us but all I saw was a solid carpet of clouds.

Feeling the comforting touch of a soft hand on my knee I heard the words, “This happens all the time. Just take a few deep breaths and relax sweetie. You’re safe.” They came from the woman beside me before the plane took off. Her sweet smile immediately calmed me as she said, “Airplanes are designed to withstand this kind of stress. As you fly more often you will understand what causes it and you’ll realize how sturdily these airplanes are built. There is nothing at all to fear.” I was taken by her English accent. She was a pretty woman who reminded me of the English actress, Deborah Kerr.

The flight left Logan Airport at 10:00 pm and was due to arrive at Heathrow by 8:45 a.m. It was my first airplane flight, and the term “redeye” made it both mysterious and exciting. Redeyes were not as full in the eighties as they are now, this one was no more than half full. Had I been a seasoned traveler I would have chosen an aisle seat, but I thought sitting next to the window would offer a better view. When we got up to altitude, I would be surprised to find that the cloud cover would obliterate the ground. As it was, we would be flying in total darkness until just before landing at Heathrow.

After the last passengers had been loaded, I saw a flight attendant walking down the aisle toward me (we called them “stewardesses” at the time). Over the top of the seats, I could make out her attractive face beneath a blue British Airways cap and the shoulders of her blue uniform. Stopping at my row she hoisted a small black Travel Pro suitcase into the overhead bin. I thought she was helping another passenger until she looked down at me, smiled, and said, “Do you mind if I share your row?”

As she smoothed the fabric of her tight-fitting blue skirt against her well-formed bottom she sat down. Looking at me she must have read the question on my face and said, “I’m deadheading to Heathrow to catch another flight day after tomorrow.” I had no idea what the term meant, and my face must have shown it. With a beautiful, toothy smile she said, “When a stewardess or pilot dead-heads, sweetie, it means that we are just taking a plane back to our home base.” Acknowledging the question mark on my face she giggled and added, “The airline pays for it.”

I don’t know why she thought I needed the explanation. My face told stories I wasn’t aware of ... something my parents always told me; they often said they could spot a lie on my face the moment I told it. At any rate, the proximity of this elegant woman excited me, the scent of her delicate lilac perfume having a narcotic effect. I could feel my heart beating in my throat and there was an embarrassing swelling between my legs that made me hope that she wouldn’t notice.

Noticing several passengers who were distinguished-looking men traveling alone I wondered why this sophisticated lady might have chosen to sit next to a teenage boy like me. Feeling self-conscious I lowered my tray table to foil any chance that she might see evidence of my boner. I was embarrassed when she cautioned, “Actually you’re not supposed to lower your tray table until we have taken off and have achieved altitude.”

When she walked toward me down the aisle she was a younger woman. But when she came into plain view at the end of my row, I could see crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes. I confess that as she lifted the suitcase to the overhead bin her flat tummy and the outline of her pubic mound against her tight skirt intensified my boner which seemed impossible to disguise.

Feigning interest in the airline magazine I’d pulled out of the seat pocket; I leafed through the pages as if I were scanning for the proper article to read. Settling on a page I pretended to read the article. Out of the corner of my eye, while trying to control my breathing I could see every move she was making. She kept glancing sideways as if she were interested in me. Arching her back she settled into her seat, folded her hands demurely in her lap then glanced more steadily in my direction. I noticed her lips curling into a smile before she moved her hand to cover her lips.

“Is that an interesting article?” she asked.”

Not knowing what to say I nodded and smiled until I realized that the magazine was UPSIDE DOWN. She tried hard but couldn’t stifle her chuckle that came out as soft laughter. Had I been in on the joke I would have thought it was the cutest giggling I’d ever heard. But I felt like a jerk. I was stuck and couldn’t do anything but suffer.

“I ... I’m sorry,” she said with obvious remorse, “I’m not laughing at you, it’s just the situation. Believe me when I say that you are simply the most endearing young man I have ever met.” She reached over and touched my arm then gave my wrist a confirming squeeze. “We’ll keep this just between us, okay?”

I don’t know why I noticed that she was wearing a wide, gold wedding band, it wasn’t like me to notice that kind of thing at the time. And the moment I recognized what it was a strange kind of jealousy washed over me. At the same time, I saw that when she smiled and talked the wrinkles on her otherwise smooth face became more apparent. When I’d seen her coming down the aisle, I thought she might be in her thirties. But her slight wrinkles gave me the impression that she might be my mom’s age, somewhere between forty-five and fifty.

An attractive woman in her own right my mother was not as pretty as this blue-eyed, copper-haired British Airways stewardess. Since puberty I’d always fantasized about Mom, so amorous feelings for this attractive, exotic airline stewardess with such a sophisticated English accent were easy to understand.

There were a lot of questions I would have liked to have asked, but I was much too shy. I knew I was too young for a woman like her to be interested in having a real conversation with me, but she had a knack for dealing with uncomfortable situations. When she said, “Why would a boy in high school be traveling to England at the same time his school year is about to begin?”

Eagerly, I told her that I had won a contest for higher GPA students at the school I attended whereby the winner would attend Kingston University ... free of charge for an entire school year. Seeing her raise her eyebrows I added, “A very rich man sponsors the scholarship. I won it.”

She took my right hand between both of hers and said, “Now that’s an IMPRESSIVE accomplishment young man. Can I have your name?” I told her my name was Arthur Chadwick. Holding it like she was my mother she said, “I’m proud of you Arthur Chadwick. Do you go by Arthur or Art?”

I told her that my friends called me Art, but my parents called me Arthur. “I’ll call you Arthur if you don’t mind. We Brits love formal names.” As she held my hand as if she were afraid of losing me she added, “My name is Colette,” holding out her name tag for me to see, “Colette Bentley.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss ... Mrs ... Bentley.”

Giving me a twinkle, she said, “You’re quite an observant Arthur Chadwick. I couldn’t be more impressed if you were my own child.” With another one of those honeyed chuckles, she added, “I was married for a short time Arthur but have no children. I just wear this wedding ring to ward off predators who want to hit on me.”

Looking at my questioning face she added, “It’s one of the trials of airline stewardesses, many of whom are much younger than me. Men think we are easy marks.” She could see I was still confused. “I’ll explain it to you later. Please call me Colette.”

I had no idea what “later” meant. The cat was out of the bag though; I was sure she was close to my mother’s age; she was attractive and seemed to be interested in me. I’m not sure if she was interested, whatever that meant, or if she just liked having these conversations to pass the time while flying deadhead.

“If I’m bothering you with all of these questions Arthur just let me know and I’ll leave you alone.”

I felt good that she continued talking with me but was still uncomfortable that my boner had not yet gone down. She engaged me in conversation so completely and comfortably that during the next round of turbulence, I had lost a good deal of my fear of it. When she asked me about it I lied to make her think I wasn’t bothered at all.

“It’ll get to the point, Arthur that you’ll honestly believe what you say about not being bothered.” I realized that I was becoming infatuated with her.

During the next hour, she had my complete history: who my parents were, how they met, how they got along, and my uneventful dating experience. I did have a brief affair with a popular girl who eventually shot me down.

With a sly smirk, she rolled her eyes and said, “We all go through that kind of pain Arthur. All of us have been hurt at one time or another.” Rolling her eyes she added, “I’ve even been guilty of inflicting more than one of those kinds of hurts myself.”

Boldly I asked, “And you’ve never been married?”

“As I said, I was married ... for three years just after I got my wings,” she shrugged. “He was an older pilot. We had such different schedules that we didn’t get to know each other very well. And” she hesitated, “Well, he was just too old and tired for me.”

Looking intensely at me she said, “Something is wrong with me Arthur. Or I just don’t like the idea of getting older. But I’ve not been interested in getting married since that time. I find that people under thirty tend to keep me young and vibrant.” Tenderly Placing her open hand on my cheek, she said, “Frankly Arthur, a young man like you is quite appealing to me.”

Butterflies invaded my stomach and I felt warm inside, but my skin seemed chilled. The sense of standing on the edge of a cliff overcame me as I consciously fought shudders that threatened to make me tremble. Her hand was on my cheek again as she gave me another of her adoring smiles and said, “Don’t worry Mr. Chadwick I’m not going to attack you.”

I didn’t know what “attack” meant but wanted her to do more. If it meant what I hoped it could mean, I knew in the midst of so many people we were too exposed to accomplish anything like that. But I knew she couldn’t mean attacking me in the kind of intimate way I had fantasized about with Sherry, the girl who shot me down and broke my heart, and my mother.

After we’d been in the air for about an hour and a half a chime rang and one of the stewardesses announced that the meal service would begin. My new friend leaned over to me and said, “I’ll be right back,” which I thought meant she was going to the restroom. The image of her sitting on the toilet flashed in my mind, which assured me that my hard-on would continue to give me trouble.

After an interlude of about ten minutes, she came back with two trays of food. It was food that was available only in the first-class section: steak, potatoes, crème Brule, and two small bottles of red wine.

“I’m not old enough to drink wine,” I said attempting to put my bottle on her tray. I didn’t want her to get into any trouble with the airline.

“Nonsense,” she said, “You’re a mature young man. You’re on your way abroad which doesn’t have the same age limitations on alcohol as the U.S. In my eyes Arthur you’re more than mature enough to drink wine.”

I was King of the hill. Though cognizant of being under the age limit, my parents had allowed me an occasional glass of wine since the age of sixteen as long as I was under their supervision. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that Colette might get into trouble for breaking the rules.

She didn’t seem to think it was a problem though. And it certainly made me feel grown-up. As I looked around, I could see passengers in my area getting much less elegant meals (we even had crystal wine glasses on our trays). I noticed some jealous looks being cast our way and felt guilty about it. But when I mentioned it to Colette she said, “They are all aware that “stews” get special perks. And they don’t know whether or not you and I are related ... like you could be my nephew.” She winked in a playful which thrilled me.

Or your child I thought. The feeling it gave me was confusing, with a little guilt, a lot of dreaming, and fear that both might be true. Given the proximity of Colette’s age to my mother’s, I couldn’t rule out possibilities that tickled more fantasies.

After dinner, Colette bussed our trays. When she came back, she reached into her purse and pulled out the smallest deck of cards I’d ever seen ... playing cards with the airline’s logo. “Any time you want cards when you’re flying,” she said, “just ask a stewardess.”

We played eight hands of Gin Rummy which was new to me. I lost every game. We were interrupted by one of the stewardesses who asked us if we wanted blankets and pillows. I had been advised of the process by my father. Colette answered for both of us. I noticed a slight smile on the stewardess’s face which gathered a veiled look from Colette in response. We played two more games. I won the last one which I’m sure Colette allowed.

The cabin lights had been turned off, but we were using our overhead lights with which to play. Colette had moved to the middle seat when she had come back with dinner. Her right leg had been constantly pressing against mine which kept me in a state of constant erection, easing from time to time because of erectile fatigue. After a while, I became bold enough to press my knee against hers.

“Here,” she said as she raised the armrest between us and folded it between the seats. Amazed that they worked that way I imagined being with my ex-girlfriend Sherry when we had parked and necked a few times. Still pressing her thigh against mine she said, “It will be a little more comfortable if you would like to lean up against me as you sleep,” which made me think of the times I had fallen asleep against my mother during my childhood. Alive with testosterone my body was so charged that my erection felt like it might split the tight skin of its head like a frankfurter that had been overcooked on a grill.

The temperature had been turned down in the cabin. All the passengers around us were covered up with blankets. When Colette had taken off her uniform jacket, I noticed how substantial her breasts appeared. They seemed perkier than my mother’s. She was wearing an elegant, soft white blouse that showed them off in such a lovely way.

Catching my breath to keep from gasping I imagined what they might look like out of the package. Covertly eying them I thought I had perfected; it was a way of staring at women that made me think I was undetectably oblique rather than gaping openly.

Giving me my pillow and fixing my blanket so that hers overlapped mine she said, “Lay your head on your pillow sweetie. I’ll put mine up in the crack between our seats.”

When she had gotten on the plane, I remembered how she sat in the aisle seat and wished she might sit closer. “Turn off your light Hun.” I did, and she turned off hers. Lights were going off all over the plane. Then, except for a few lights, the cabin was dark.

Snuggling next to me her right shoulder was against the seat, her thigh was pressing against mine and her head was on her pillow facing me. Her breath washing my neck and cheek drove me crazy and sustained my erection. “Try to get some sleep honey,” she said with a tiny chortle then added, “if you can,” with a tiny tee-hee.

When she called me “honey” my heart felt like it was melting. When she kissed the side of my neck it was like a shock that caused me to jerk. “I hope I didn’t alarm you, Arthur. It’s just ... just that you’re such a sweet boy who brings out my mothering instincts.”

Silent for a while I realized one of the questions, I hadn’t asked her. “Do you have any children?”

Chortling ruefully, she said, “Uh-uh. Though I’ve often wished I had.” She was quiet for a bit then, “With my lifestyle Arthur I don’t think I would successfully have been the kind of mother I would like to have been. A child would have deserved better.” She patted my leg.

Realizing how far apart we were in our lives I wondered why she was being so nice to me. She liked being with me but seemed to be taking pains not to press herself too forcefully on me. I assumed she was fully aware that I wouldn’t be able to carry on a fully adult conversation with her. She had been driving the conversation by asking a lot of questions and kept patting my thigh, caressing it as if to say she was happy with what I was doing to keep my side of the conversation going.

To my surprise, she said, “You’re an extremely sweet young man Arthur Chadwick, and will probably break a few hearts before making some lucky woman a loving partner.”

Removing her hand from my leg she took my hand and placed it on her chest. In a recurring state of shock, I could tell that her blouse was open at the top where it hadn’t been before. I hadn’t been aware that when she was laying out the blankets she had unbuttoned the top three buttons. In a controlled whisper she spoke into my ear, “I noticed you looking at my breasts when I was taking my jacket off Arthur.” So much for the way, I had perfected my ogling.

Anxious that she thought me rude I was embarrassed. But she didn’t say or do anything to make me aware that she was uncomfortable with my glances. “Women have a way of knowing that you’re staring at them, sweetie. Thousands of eyes have done the same thing over the years young man.” Her laugh was like “hmm-hmm-hmm” in her whispering tone. “You’ll have to be more creative in your ogling Arthur. But since you enjoyed what you’ve been looking at, I thought perhaps you might like to know how my breasts feel as well.”

Shock quickly morphed into awe. I couldn’t figure out how she got her hands inside her blouse to unhook her bra. But with her hand on mine, she coaxed it inside her blouse where I found her cups hanging loose from her breasts. I remembered the time my mom was uncomfortable on a hot day when she reached both hands inside her top, undid her bra, pulled her arms out of the straps, and put her hands back through the sleeves of her top, finally taking her bra out of her shirt. The way she did it always amazed me. But when I felt Colette’s soft, naked breast and cupped her amazingly soft skin with my hand I couldn’t stop the noise that began emanating from my throat as I thought sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back my ejaculation.

Like a flycatcher, she clapped her hand over my mouth while I breathed in my excitement. “He-he-he Arthur,” she said, “shh ... SHH.”

As the jet engines droned in my ears, I calmed my breathing while concentrating on Colette Bentley’s magnificent tits. They were much larger than my girlfriend Sherry’s, just as smooth but seemed softer. While Sherry’s nipples felt like peanuts Colette’s were hazelnuts and just as hard. Each heartbeat thumped in my ears which I also felt in the head of my dick. I could feel her fluttering heartbeat as I rolled her nipple which seemed to make it expand with each pulsation. Though I knew she was tightly controlling her breath I felt the heat of her lips nearing my ear then capturing my earlobe between them before whispering, “Can you feel how much you are exciting me, Arthur?”

On the edge of losing it, I clamped my legs together and squeezed my erection between them to keep from ejaculating, clutching the cheeks of my ass so hard that I felt like they would cramp. I succeeded in that one but lost the battle when I felt warm air from Colette’s nostrils flaring on my temple before her warm, wet tongue probed and soaked my ear. Shuddering, I let my jizz spew into my BVDs.

I should have been embarrassed when I squeezed her breast so hard when I came. I figured she must have known because her body tensed at the same moment before shuddering into a prolonged but controlled spasm. Finally relaxing she murmured, “I’m glad that you came, Arthur. Secret? When you squeezed my breast you made me climax as well.”

I was still too naïve to know what “climax” meant. For that matter, I didn’t realize that females could have such orgasmic events. But I had the sense that her shuddering indicated some kind of pleasure.

With a deep sigh, she said, “BRAVO Mr. Chadwick you are an extremely exciting young man.”

It was strange. In the midst of my confusion which should have had me cringing in awkwardness and shame, I felt like I was the King of the world. “I want to hold you, sweetie,” she said, “and feel the wetness of your sperm with my fingers.”

I knew I got satisfaction feeling the warm, slimy result of my sperm gobbed on my dick but was amazed that she would want to feel my goo as well. So instead of shrinking from her when she placed her hand on my belly I sucked in and created space between my belt and stomach. Knifing her hand inside my underpants she kneaded my waning erection, squishing my sperm between her fingers. “Yes Arthur,” she said, “Yes, yes, yes, your splooge feels delightfully slippery and nastily wonderful!”

She fondled my limp penis for a while until it became hard again. “You’re as large as ANY man I could want to be with Arthur,” she said, confirmation which made me feel larger than I was. That empowerment made me feel proud and invincible.

Stroking me to erection again she made me come all over her hand which slipped through my jizz while my pecker was once again becoming flaccid. Taking her gooey hand out of my pants she discretely put it just beneath her nose, breathing deeply and sighing, finally reaching up to press the service button.

It only took a moment for the working stewardess to come to our row. “We’ve had a little accident,” Colette said to her with a wry and telling smile. “Might you bring us a warm wet towel and a dry one?”

Looking back and forth between Colette and me the stewardess rolled her eyes and shrugged wordlessly before turning and walking toward the galley. Within four minutes she came back with the napkins on a tray. Colette thanked her and as soon as the attendant left, said, “Open your belt Honey and zip down.” Hiding it with my other hand I got it open. Stretching out the waistband of my underwear she reached inside and cleaned my penis and pubic hair with the warm cloth and rubbed me dry with the other one.

As soon as I had gotten rearranged she said, “Let’s get some sleep before we land kiddo.”

As I laid my head against my pillow which I placed in the window Colette snuggled next to me, coaxed me to put my arm over her shoulder, and rested her head on the pillow she had placed next to my neck.

The next thing I knew the cabin lights were on and one of the stewardesses was announcing breakfast. Colette stirred and then said, “I’m going to the loo then I’ll help the girls serve breakfast.” Kissing me on the cheek she said, “You’ll be eating breakfast by yourself, love. I’ll be back before we land.” Getting up she reached into the overhead, took out her uniform jacket, and headed to the rear of the plane.

The stewardess that brought the towels served my breakfast. When she smiled at me in such a knowing way I was embarrassed. Giving me a little nod of her head when she placed the tray on my table she said, “No worries honey, one day you’ll be counting this as one of your most memorable experiences.”

I was fascinated by the full breakfast of omelets and biscuits, along with a pat of butter and a small container of jam. Along with coffee, it fits onto the tiny tray like a puzzle. The food was quite tasty but in no way satisfied my hunger. I was famished.

After breakfast had been served and the cabin cleaned up Colette sat down in the seat beside me. I expected that she would sit in the aisle seat, maybe indicating she was done with me. But she handed me something wrapped in a napkin—two more biscuits that had already been buttered and jammed. From her other hand, she handed me a small carton of milk with a straw. Smiling she shrugged and said, “I’m familiar with growing boys, ya know.”

When I finished she pressed the service button again and the same girl picked up the trash, not missing the opportunity to shake her head and give Colette a leering grin. When she headed to the back of the plane Colette slid her arm into mine, hugged it, and angled her head against my face. “We had a naughty time last night didn’t we Arthur?”

I couldn’t help moving my head to look her full in the face. She laughed at my gaping mouth and said, “I’ll take that as a yes.” Not giving me time to come up with a response that could have been inappropriate she went on, “Now what can we do to make your first day in London special?” It was a rhetorical question followed by, “What is your schedule for the day?”

“I have to check into the dormitory by 6:00 pm,” I said, “They’ve given me directions on how to get there. Actually, I can check in any time after 9:00 am.”

“Is anybody meeting you at the airport?”

“No. They’ve given me instructions on where to get the underground at Heathrow Airport and the stop where I get off and how to get to the dormitory from there.”

“PERFECT,” she replied, “Then I can take you home with me, spend the rest of the day educating you on the finer points of male/female socialization, then drop you off at the dormitory this afternoon.”

After having thought I was just a passing fancy for this woman I was overwhelmed. As far as the college was concerned I was on my own ‘til I got there. Though I was quite foggy about how I would spend my first day at the university the growing organ between my legs was voting for spending it with Colette. It was as if I hadn’t yet awoken from the dream that had been occupying me since Colette got on the plane.

Being in the major airline terminal of a country across the ocean was something that fascinated me. Until that time, I’d never been further than three hundred miles from home. I felt special when I had been selected for the scholarship. Realizing that this circumstance, getting off the plane in a new country, would have been daunting had I not been with Colette, as I walked next to the elegant, chatty British Airways stewardess I felt proud and important yet grateful that I wasn’t doing it by myself. I knew I would have gotten to my destination on my own, but I would have been anxious about figuring it out. Even though I was with an expert I still feared something might go wrong at passport control. But at least I would be with a knowledgeable advocate if trouble arose.

As we rode in the strange-looking London taxicab to Colette’s apartment the newness of the surroundings had my head turning. Though distracted by her hand constantly patting and caressing my thigh I began to feel the importance of being a world traveler. Then there were thoughts about what might happen when we got to her place. Considering that I’d ejaculated so much my underwear was uncomfortable. I was anxiously hoping for a shower.

We left my luggage in a holding room at Colette’s five-floor walkup then made our way to the second floor. Inside the flat, I was aware of street traffic outside. Colette gave me a tour of the apartment showing me the living room, dining cove, kitchenette, and half-bath. Everything about it was elegantly decorated in modern décor with expensive-looking art on the walls.

Walking into her bedroom was both astonishing and intimidating. A nude painting of a woman hung over the queen-sized bed that was covered with a dark grey quilt decorated with flags of the world. In the painting, the deliciously elegant nude was propped on her elbow with her back to the viewer. She was in a grassy meadow with a unicorn looking at her from a distance. Her legs were beautiful, and her pear-shaped bottom looked smooth, begging to be touched. She was looking back over her shoulder with a flirtatious smile on her luscious lips. Suddenly I became aware that the woman in the painting was Colette. I wondered if the artist was continually getting hard-ons as I was now when he worked on the painting with her as his naked model.

Stepping behind me she put her arms between mine and wrapped them around my chest, giggling as she kissed the side of my neck and said, “So what do you think Arthur?”

I knew she was talking about the painting. “It’s ... it’s beautiful Colette. YOU’RE beautiful.”

“Have you ever seen a nude painting before?”

“Only in books or magazines.”

“Does it excite you to know that I posed nude for this?”

Before I could come up with an answer her hand was clutching my erect penis through the fabric of my pants. “Ooh,” she said with glee, “I feel that it does.”

Turning me to face her she kissed my lips, kneaded them open with hers, and invited me to play with our tongues. Just as I thought we were going to end up in her bed she said, “We both need a shower, Arthur. You can go first, sweetie. The shower is through that door. I’ll bring extra towels in a minute.”

As I stripped off my clothes I looked down at my stained underwear and was grateful that she didn’t dirty her hands in them. The shower was more modern than ours at home and was so clean that it looked like a bath advertisement. I almost felt guilty that I was so dirty as I got in. Being pelted with spray from the cascading showerhead I felt wonderful. My back was facing the glass door as I sudsed up, feeling like layers of dirt were already being scaled away. I had just filled my mouth with water and was spraying a long squirt against the wall when I heard the click of the door and felt cool air rushing into the hot chamber.

“I thought we would save water if I joined you in the shower,” Colette said.

Turning to face her I was staggered by the remarkable sight of this beautiful naked woman standing before me. What I was seeing confirmed that she was in the same age bracket as my mother—a beautiful woman in her own right. Collette appeared more girlish than the woman I had been fantasizing about since puberty. Like the lens of a camera, my eyes panned her body. From her eyes to her breasts to her navel, to the luxuriant auburn bush above her legs, to her thighs and knees. She was stunning.

Eying her breasts I could see how remarkably firm they were. They would certainly pass the pencil test where, if a pencil were placed at the bottom of her breast where it becomes attached to her torso, the sagging of her breast would not hold the pencil in place. Always aware of boobs I knew that big ones protruded more than small ones and their cleavage was more pronounced. But I didn’t know how to categorize A, B, C, or D. I figured that Colette’s had to be either B or C. Her nipples were the size of hazelnuts rather than peanuts. I knew that girls’ pubic hair could be bushy and/or curly and understood that many of the girls my age shaved their mounds. Having not seen Colette’s legs below her hemline I had no idea that her thighs would be as shapely, slight, and smooth as they were. In her uniform, her curves still formed an hourglass. But naked I was overwhelmed with how shapely her body still was ... like the one in the painting over the bed.

“And look at YOU,” she said with laughing eyes. Taking in the fullness of my fast-rising penis she said, “Turn around Arthur and let me wash your back.”

Like an obedient soldier to my sergeant’s “about-face,” I quickly turned. With the washcloth and soap, she worked up suds and then pressed her naked breasts into my back as she began washing my chest. “I know I said I’d wash your back,” she said to me, “and I’ll get around to it after I’ve had a little fun, “he-he.”

Before she got into the shower with me, I had just been getting ready to wash my dick. I had hoped to get myself off so I would be less sensitive when it was time to fuck. But now her breasts pillowed on my back and her tummy pressed against me. I could feel the soft, curly bush of her pubic hair tickling my bottom. I wonder what the guys back home would say, I thought ... And what about Mom and Dad? Thinking about my mom brought the guilt that fantasizing about her always carried with it. I wondered if Mom would be upset with me for having sex with a woman close to her age. Or would she be jealous? Then I imagined her being naked in the shower with me. And what would she think of my boner?

Colette started at my neck, moved to my chest then down my belly and thighs. She soaped the washcloth again, wrapped it around my dick, and started washing. Laughing she said, “I can barely get the washcloth around this monster cock of yours, sweetie. You are MAGNIFICENT.”

I had never heard a female refer to a penis as a “cock.” As she washed she laughed as she said, “I had to get this dry, crusty sperm off you baby ... although I do like the idea of sperm on a man’s cock in ANY form.”

I’d never considered that a woman this age would be this naughty, had never even considered it as a possibility. I liked it but was jealous that she referred to it as “a man’s cock” which indicated to me that there were others.

When I let her know I was going to come she said, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’ve gotta start learning to control yourself, sweetie. If you want to satisfy a woman like me, you’ll have to learn to hold back.” She stopped aggravating the hair-trigger of my dick and finished washing my back then said, “Your turn Arthur.”

Unable to keep my eyes off her rear end I almost came when I felt how soft it was. “Turn around,” I said.

“Goodie,” she exclaimed as she turned. I didn’t know where to start. “Start with my titties Arthur; I love them to be touched. But make sure your touch is gentle when you do my nipples ... at least at first he-he.”

Taking care that I didn’t push too hard on her “titties” I moved the washcloth down to her tummy. I felt nervous when I neared her bush and skipped over her pubic area. I was shy, I guess. Then I did her thighs and knelt to do her lower legs and feet.

“Tsk, tsk baby,” she said, “haven’t you forgotten something?” Purposely she spread her legs wide. “Colette’s little pussy needs to be washed, Arthur. Make sure you get it good and clean.” I put the soapy rag between her legs and started washing.

“Don’t be such a sissy;” she said with a chortle, “Colette’s pussy loves to have a little more contact.” When I started rubbing harder, she began to moan. “Ooh. Pussy likes that but one more thing.” She reached her hand down, “Pay attention, Arthur.” With her fingers and thumb, she opened the lips of her pussy wide. “Do you see this little knobby thing at the top?” I nodded. “Rub it real hard.”

Placing the washcloth over my middle finger I pushed hard against what she told me was her clitoris. “That’s right baby,” she said as she wavered back and forth. “Harder.” I did it harder. “Faster.” She wiggled faster while saying “Oh, yes, Yes, YES, YES.” Freezing into a sustained shudder she slumped against me, gasped, and said, “That’s what we call an orgasm baby. And I do LOVE having orgasms.”

We toweled each other off but didn’t dress. With her hairdryer, she dried my pubic hair and then the hair on my head as she brushed it. It was so erotic that my cock stood to attention so stiffly that it felt like it would split the skin of my knob. I directed the dryer to her pubic hair then the hair on her head and brushed it out.

Satisfied that we were both dry Colette looked into my eyes and said, “Remember me telling you about controlling yourself, Arthur?” I nodded. “Good because we’re going to do something to help that. Judging by what’s been going on since we met on the airplane it’s something you’ve never considered before. I’ll lay out on the bed and spread my legs so you can put your penis inside me.”

Seeing my nervousness, she went on like a teacher, “Don’t worry Arthur I’ll help guide you inside me.”

As I followed her directions she held my cock and mopped the knob between her wet lips to lubricate it. “But you must promise me not to come inside my vagina baby. If you feel that you must come just squeeze the cheeks of your cute little ass together and do your best to hold it back, ok?”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Now just push a little ... yes just like that ... and let gravity take you inside. That’s it. Now move it in until your pubic hair mats my hair down then pull back ... yes.” She grinned. “You’re so huge Arthur and you feel so good inside me. Now pull back and push in to make sure we are meshing correctly. Good boy. Now I’ll do something else, a little trick, so you won’t come until I want you to, ok?”

I nodded. “Now fuck my pussy three times—move it in and out. And promise, promise, promise me that you won’t come inside me.”

With my butt cheeks tightly clamped I pumped three times. It was the most fantastic feeling I had ever experienced but I was having trouble appreciating it fully because my butt cheeks felt like they were going to cramp up.

“Ok baby,” she said, “take that marvelous thing out of me now.”

When it came out it sounded like an old-fashioned hand pump sucking up water. As soon as my glistening rod came out of her pussy, she slid off the bed onto her knees in front of me. Putting her hand past my scrotum she felt for something with her middle finger. When she found the soft spot she was looking for she pressed harder. With her left hand, she gripped my cock and brought it to her lips. Looking up at me with a flirty gaze she licked the slit of my head which oozed the clear substance that comes before I’m ready to shoot. I was so excited that I knew I was going to lose it and in a panic, I yelped, “I’M GONNA COME COLETTE, I’M GONNA CUM.”

With a confident smile, she captured my eye as if to say, “Oh no you’re not.”

But I knew I was ejaculating and ashamed for being such a jerk. It felt so good though. I felt the surge from my balls, the weakening of my knees, and the thrill that ran throughout my body. Her finger had been hurting me in the spot between my balls and my asshole but had become numb. Everything in my body said I was cumming, but Colette continued bobbing on my cock, looking up hypnotically into my eyes like she was rejoicing at how good she was making me feel. She kept fondling my balls and I felt like they were vibrating and swelling. Feeling a series of jerky sensations, I watched the dazzling image of my cock being covered, bared then disappearing inside Colette’s head. My stomach sank with pleasure.

It was an initiation I’ll never forget. The vision of this gorgeous, mature woman on her knees with my cock plugged into her face was something of which I had never dreamed. In my naive mind, my penis was only supposed to be plunging between her legs this way. But here I was naked, writhing in the most profound ecstasy, steadying myself with my hands on the shoulders of this magnificent, naked Venus ... the stuff that dreams are made of.

As she did this to me she moaned and gobbled, slobbered, and slurped on my erection for almost ten minutes. Even more astounding, I came three times without ejaculating until she finally released the pressure of her finger on that amazing spot and, “OH BROTHER.” I had jacked off hundreds of times since the age of thirteen when I had been surprised by my first erection. But I had never come like this.

When I touched Colette’s breast on the airplane I was so surprised and excited that I came instantly. It was better than anything I had ever experienced before when masturbating. Later on, on the plane, she jacked me off and it was even better. But after our shower and the first time she took me into her mouth and stopped pressing on my spot, I couldn’t believe the force of my sperm which blasted out my penis. It was as thick as a rope that kept being dragged through an opening that was too small. The next three shots were not as strong, but it was still more cum than I believed could have been coming from my balls.

I thought my heart would beat out of my chest. At the same time, like a balloon that was losing all its air, my energy exited my body on each of those spurts. In that excited/deflating state, I was overwhelmed that not only had this woman sucked my cock for such a long time, but she also swallowed all of my sperm. What I thought could make her sick made her go completely wild. And as I shot the last of my load I collapsed and bounced on the edge of the mattress, as she shouted obscenities and we both fell in a pile on the floor.

Finally catching her breath from her tremendous “climax” (another word she used for orgasm), she began kissing and rubbing her hands all over me. I was surprised that she didn’t shy away from my gooey penis which Initially turned me off. But as she kissed me with cum-coated lips I found the taste and smell of my jizz appealing. And to my delight, my dick was getting hard again. Colette pushed me over on my back, straddled me, and said, “I want to ride your big cock, Arthur until I’m exhausted.”

Sitting on the floor with my back to the side of the bed she quickly got my boner inside her pussy and began humping me. Unable to get over how easily my prick slid inside her spongy pussy I was fascinated that while we fucked, it was gripping me like a vise. And each time she came close to pulling completely off she just let herself drop and slide down my pole, her ass slapping my belly and legs which sounded like applause.

When I warned her that I was going to cum she pulled off my cock, dropped to the side of me on her back then stiffened herself like she was lying there at attention and commanded, “Stand up Arthur, straddle my body, wank off and cum on my tits.

Quickly answering her wish I was amazed that while I didn’t come in as much volume as I did when she had released her finger from my spot; I still shot three lines of my creamy jism on her breasts along with numerous star-like splatters as I kept jerking and flailing my cock.

With wild eyes, Colette said, “Watching you masturbate like that was BEAUTIFUL Arthur. Your cock is like a mature man’s. You’re a big, BIG young man. You don’t know that you’re larger than most men Arthur but believe me, you ARE.” Shaking her head in disbelief she went on, “And when you spewed your scrumptious splooge all over my tits you made me come one more time.”

Now both lying on the floor while trembling as I tried to keep my weight off her she said with a glorious grin, “Let’s get on the bed kiddo, and snuggle for a bit.”

After she turned the covers back we cuddled, kissed, and rolled around on her soft satin sheets. It was like yoga meditation which sent tickles of excitement and relaxation throughout my body. Quizzing me in an erotic way Colette murmured, “You’ve never had sex before have you.”

I felt silly when I said, “The most sex I have ever had before was playing with my girlfriend’s breasts.”

“What about a male, maybe when you were going through puberty, and you did something then?”

Shocked and embarrassed I tried to avoid the question, but she finally wheedled an answer. I told her that I had masturbated with a friend when I was fourteen and that we’d both joined in a few “circle jerks” with our buddies.

“Had you ever wanted to have one of your friend’s penises in your mouth?” she asked.

Confused by her persistence I wasn’t about to confess that I had and enjoyed it. “To tell you the truth Colette I thought about it but never wanted to be labeled a ‘Queer’.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re queer,” she said, “Many men do it with both men and women. That’s called being bi-sexual.”

I was uncomfortable with this kind of talk and didn’t know why she was asking me about it. But she certainly planted a seed in my mind.

“Well,” she went on, “we’ll have time to pursue alternate kinds of sex while you’re here in London Arthur. I can teach you enough that when you go back to the United States, you’ll have the equivalent of a master’s degree in ‘lovemaking,” something that can make you quite popular with the girls. What do you think?”

When I didn’t answer she patiently smiled at me and gazed deeply into my eyes before saying, “You’re a quick learner sweetie. And I love how good you are making me feel.”

“Really?” It seemed like she was being sincere. But I wasn’t confident enough about my manhood to believe she wasn’t just trying to make me feel good about myself. But she at least was treating me like a bona fide co-conspirator. In retrospect, I can see that from the moment Colette sat down beside me on the airplane she was grooming me for this. Through her, I was abruptly more aware of sex than any of my contemporaries who boasted they were doing it but weren’t. None of them would ever believe this story though. Hell, I could hardly believe it myself.

Looking at me like she was chewing on something she said, “Frankly Arthur, you’re quite an open-minded young man ... and easy to teach.” Kissing my cheek, she went on, “I’m looking forward to the times that we will spend together while you’re here. If you are interested, we can get together on numerous weekends while you’re in Kingston. How does that sound to you?”

Having this beautiful woman’s naked body pressing against mine was incredibly stimulating yet, while I was completely relaxed, I felt a threatening undercurrent. “I ... I don’t know what the rules are at Kingston Colette. Maybe they won’t let me out on weekends. And what should I tell my parents?”

Hugging me she shook my body with her laughter as she said. “Well, sweetie I know a lot of people at Kingston, important people who know how to deal with things like RULES, he-he-he. Believe me, rules will present no problem for you and me. As for your parents, haven’t you ever done anything they wouldn’t have approved of?”

I felt foolish telling her that I’d done lots of things that my parents didn’t know, nor would they have approved of.

She cajoled, “Join the rest of the world Arthurkins,” then added, “You’re Mom and maybe even your dad wouldn’t openly approve of my teaching you my special brand of sexuality. But I know they would love to be aware that their son is becoming sexually experienced. Every parent wants their children to be successful ... and that’s in ALL endeavors of life.” Chortling she asked, “Are you going to tell them what we are doing today?”

I blushed but got the point.

“So, let’s start with one of my first requirements.” Pausing long enough for me to wonder what would come next she began to explain, “Before I drop you off with those rule mongers at Kingston this afternoon you’ll have to learn the basics of cunnilingus.”

I was confused. “Cunning linguist?”

“Ha-ha-ha. Everybody should be a cunning linguist Arthur. And If I am any kind of teacher, you’ll not only become a cunning linguist, but you’ll also develop into a more than passable cunnilinguist. I’m not talking about being artful with words though.” Her eyes sparkled. “Cunnilingus is spelled: c u n n i l i n g u s.” She made me repeat the spelling. “Did you like it when I put your penis in my mouth?”

“LIKE it? You drove me nuts when you did it, Colette.”

She laughed and said, “It drives ALL men nuts when they get their nuts off inside a woman’s mouth who is performing fellatio on them—that’s the proper way of saying having your cock sucked, getting a blow job, or being given head. It’s spelled: f e l l a t o, the proper way to refer to oral sex being given to a man. You’re fun Arthur ha-ha-ha.”

Cunnilingus is oral sex being given to a woman Arthur: eating pussy, lapping cunt,” She gave me a leering smile. Drinking from the furry cup. Oral sex is an EXTREMELY important part of making love, my young friend. If you want to be an acceptable lover to any sophisticated woman, ANY woman for that matter, you must be proficient at cunnilingus. We’ll get a good start on it before I take you to Kingston today...

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