Chapter 4

Returning home from college that first winter, I can be honest. I was real eager to see my mother once more. Not only Mrs Robinson.

Mom hadn’t hassled me much while I was away. Kind of left me to flop around like a fish for a bit. Not completely, there was a weekly call to ensure it hadn’t fallen apart somehow; despite all the preparations she had arranged for me beforehand. I had walked into an apartment, a key palmed in my hand. All my classes pre-selected. A refrigerator full of food. A table with a stack of books and a note on top for which goes with what else. These were the bills to pay and a semester’s worth of checks to pay them all. It was a doormat, pretty much. But then, once Day 1 had officially begun, I was left to fend for myself and make it all happen the way it oughta if I wanna ever be somebody and get somewhere. Beyond just a window, eh.

And I wanted to.

The world wasn’t ONLY gonna be about tits and ass to view and go after. I weren’t completely hopeless not to know that already walking in. I missed ‘em though. Them tits in particular. And Her ass.

Not like there weren’t any girls around the halls to take advantage of. I could, and would, it turns out. It was as if they could smell something on me. Something they would need to know about that I hadn’t even known about myself just yet. Or maybe they wanted to pamper me. Am I the pampering kind? Maybe. But you best be careful cuz once the pampering begins - I’m gonna fuck your brains out. That much is certain. Cuz I like, you know, owe it to a certain someone.

In any case I was pretty pleased with myself once the ball got rolling. You find your way, ya know? As long as one foot moves forward in front of the other - and not too quickly - yer gonna get there. So I got a few places. The grades were not a complete disaster. I had found a few avenues of a future I might be interested in. Building blocks. Set the foundation. Then one block on top of the other. Like a pyramid and not a square or even a rectangle. Every level I was able to know thoroughly enough meant the one above would require less blocks to build.

Higher and higher. Up I went.

Weren’t no one outside my window though. There was a tree out there and that was all. A nice big tree, and a trunk; real impressive. Wish I had a trunk like that. But anyway, um, yeah - I think my mom did that on purpose (not the tree trunk; she ain’t cruel like that. Not on purpose anyway). I mean purposefully chose a place without a building of windows built alongside it. You wanna look outside? Watch a tree grow then. Not another set of hooters. Go grow. And not just your penis.

On the other hand, ya know, it was a tree so ... they’re pretty much erect at all times.

Maybe she missed me also then?

“Stay hard, kid. Maintain a stiffy.”

Copy that, mama. Making use of that as best I can withoutcha.

But I also got the message not to get all wrapped up in some silly girl. Be a Tree. Not a potted plant. You come from good oats. And lots to live up to.

I could hear her wisdom. And wanted her to know so when I got home. That I’d been listening well and she’s not only been heard but correct. Cuz I’m growin’ out there, fer certain. Soon enough? I might have some valuable things of my own to say or share.

Unfortunately, when I got home, being the holidays and all, the turnstile was already in full gear as it always is that time of year. I hardly received all that much of a greeting. Again, it’s not like she was dismissive it’s just ... I dunno, I thought there might be an entire section of bleachers set up in the living room where everyone would be cheering me individually upon entry.

Nope. Not so much.

Too much goin’ on. A whole lot of Else to take care of.

Why would it be any different than before? What, just cuz she’d parked her pretty ass in some purposeful little slutty Santa suit on MY side of the window before I’d left it was gonna be all kinda different now upon my return? Don’t be silly. That was just a one time event. And one we’ll not be lecturing anyone else on let alone discuss amongst ourselves at any point. I mean, sure, there may have kinda been one other time before that where something seemed to have happened... “Does my ass look fat?” And a whole lot of spent cum cleaned up by hand between that first and second time. But that had all been due to Mrs Robinson mostly, hadn’t it?

I might wanna consider. While she’s maybe slightly kinda avoiding me in ways I’ve become a bit more wise about now. How much does not happen because of what might potentially bother her? And not so much on an obviously level. But deep, deep, down inside.

And how might that have gotten there anyway?

Where had the seed come from?

Ah yes, seeds. The Tree. And Mrs Robinson.

Given the potentially uncomfortable (and possibly unintendedly intentional) avoidance going on at home. I trucked it on over to Mrs Robinson’s house within a few days of my arrival.

The curtains had been closed.

Like they used to be in winter. Before I’d gone over there that first time.

When I walked in the door. Or rather, the moment she opened it. All of that within there was notably different and uncomfortable now as well. I mean, same decorations, or the same tree at least. But nothing in there was unboxed. There wasn’t any mess of clutter all around. The lights were there. Things were blinking. But no signs of any random scatter of unfinished business already begun.

And worse? No cookies.

“Oh, Hello Harold. Would you like to come in? So nice to see you.”

You get the point. It was cold in there.

We took a seat on the couch. Eventually she did go get me a cup of milk. But there wasn’t a lot of delight, if any. Anything less than a smile on her face to me would be a frown. So. Yeah. It was that.

I noticed she eye-checked my groin several times, however. In a nervous manner which would be oddly and completely out of character for Mrs Robinson. And she also wasn’t with me on the couch the whole time. There wasn’t any falling into and all over me with her magnificently uncontrollable booba. She stood up a lot instead.

It was almost as if we were strangers.

Until. It was her idea, she thought of something smart. While standing there with nothing else to find. “Should I? Um ... I dunno. Go get that pink sweater you like from before and put it back on?”

I’m not sure if it were the awakening rise of my own smile that caused her own or the other way around. But she’d seen the agreement she needed to activate.

“Okay then!!”

She ran off and up the stairs at top speed.

Damn I love watching that. There’s so much weight up top she needs to throw around to make that magically happen despite it all. And that big round fuckable ass of hers. Goddamn yeah, oh yeah, fuck yeah ... yes!!

PHEW!! Now we’re back in business.

Just a simple little brilliant idea of hers. Fantastic.

We love you, Mrs Robinson!! Say it with me now.

I could hear a bunch of shit falling over upstairs, in her closet no doubt. She was trashing the joint like The Who in a hotel. I actually heard some things indeed break apart up there. Swore I heard her say the words, “I never liked you anyway.” Which could not have been in reference to me at all but had to be about whatever had broken instead. I wouldn’t question that in any form. I just sat there on the couch beginning to remember what it truly felt like to be in the presence of Mrs Robinson. It’s not just the magnificent tits. It’s the entire thing she’s got goin’ on. All of it. You can’t take one part out or the whole of the earth could potentially tilt over and fall apart completely.

Tremendous set of tits though, as if I must remind you one more time.

I wonder what it was that had ... oh shit, I hope she doesn’t come running back down here with the black mamba and think to shove it up my ass for being away these last too many months. Yikes!!

Nope. Came down without that in her hand. Phew, one more time.

Also came down without the sweater yet pulled completely down over her challenging chest. Wouldn’t have the patience to wait that long and possibly allow me to escape once more, perhaps. Oh my glory. And hallelujah. I’d failed to properly recall just how marvelous that looks.

“Sorry. I’m too impatient,” she huffed out. Yanking the rest of that yarn down over her life-affirming breasts with a slightly annoyed yet cheerful sigh. That’s the girl I knew. She’s back in action.

Interesting. How much I enjoyed watching the deep and dark pink of her uniquely engorged areola. Disappear beneath to join the other one in a more comfortable mashed together winter wonderland that I must recapture as decidedly as I had enjoyed watching it sadly disappear. And how does that work, or why, right? Why would I somewhat enjoy the disappear-from-view part?

“Imma have that back in a moment, goddamnitt”, I recognized.

And that bothered me as soon as I’d thought it. How arrogant a thought to have. Gotta lot left to learn yet, don’t I? Maybe remember some more of what I was before that time I’d first cum over here. Meld that in with the since-then, eh? Stir it back up again. Show Mrs Robinson some of what I may have learned while my all-too-much-fun nuttsack had been tucked away for a time.

“I’ve missed your little cock so much,” she was already down on her knees and ripping my bottom buttons off. But then changed her mind for a mere moment and buried her head up beneath my own goofy sweater, sucking up my breathing heart through her ear.

Her boobs began to hump my lump. Though her hands were in the way. Couldn’t decide on things. Titty-fuck his bump through his jeans or get it all out of there first? Maybe I’ll just suffocate under this sweater and that might be the best solution. But then true to form all of that got discarded and she yanked my sweater off her head up to the shoulders and began slathering her suck on my own nipples as if I’d had anything there worth doing that to. Her hands more determined below. Wanting it.

“I’m so tired of that other thing,” she sang to me in one of the most gloriously articulate solutions to any size concerns I might have about myself. Literally chopped that tree down in one blow and tossed it through the shredder. “Gimme you.”

Boink. I was out of there.

“Oh yes, HAROLD!!”

One thing you can count on about me? He’s at the ready whenever it might be necessary.

Gulp.

It was gone.

She nearly farted through her nose in gulping it down. Fucked her own mouth in rapid order. Repeatedly reminding herself it might not be there forever so do it as many times as you can and as quickly as possible to pattern that into a memory you can access reliably - possibly as many times as you can manage to do that, within the next 30 seconds.

But I wouldn’t give her that long.

I had other ideas. That would suddenly occur to me.

“Wait.”

She listens when I say something. I’m normally so wrapped up in my own thoughts - or potentially those of my mother - and plus she’s so very busy all the time that I can’t manufacture an external thought very often before she’s create at least three others for me deal with, that I normally would not say a whole lot. And she never said she might mind the lack of that at all. (Although, now that I think about it, whenever I WOULD say something? She’d latch onto that like Scooby Doo, Wrunnnn?!!)

“Whut? What is it? Just please don’t say I can’t any longer.”

I could certainly assure her that would not be an issue here.

“You most definitely can.”

She was pleased. And said so by throwing my legs apart and bunching herself all up in between there. Hefting her heavy sweater puppies up and plopping them down on my abdomen. Grabbing my own yarn at both shoulders and tugging us closer together. Luxuriously attacking my own mouth with her own. Nibbling me and biting me and sucking on my lips. While whispering and whimpering.

“What is it that you need from me? Anything you want to have. Just tell me. Won’t you please?”

I could hardly get a word in that way but managed to tell her in any case.

“I just wanna look at you.”

I got up from where I sat and she fell somewhat lazily into a heap on the floor. I wasn’t rude about it. She was simply not prepared for me to lead that way.

I tugged off the one button she had not yet herself - the one at the top - and pushed all that nonsense down to my ankles in satisfied fashion. Stood there in my naked legs above her and grabbed my stiff shaft with the left, my warm balls with the right hand. And told her what I wanted most.

“I just wanna jack off. Like I do beyond the window,” and began to. Assuredly, though not in a hurry at all. Her eyes went wide about that display. Had I gone off and become a truer individual somehow? “Only do it right here, with you. In the room with me.”

Her cheeks fell a little slack-jawed.

I wasn’t sure how she might feel about this but had not met any other reasons to worry about such things with her before. Nor had I ever thought of doing it for whatever reason. Nor could I completely know why I was doing it right then. But I was. It’s what we were gonna do.

“Shrug that off. Get rid of it,” I indicate about the sweater. “I love to watch your tits escape that way. Set them free.”

My cock would groan at me in response. Be a tree.

“Okay, daddy.”

She’d sometimes called me “daddy” before. In a playful way, generally. Mostly when I’d fuck her ass. “However you might wish to want me, daddy. Of course.” Always very agreeable was Mrs Robinson but when the word “daddy” came out she would generally appear to appreciate the “letting go” just a teensie bit more than some other ways we might achieve that.

She began to tug up the sweater off earnestly but then stopped herself short of that. Watched my hand to match my tempo. Good girl.

“You wanna watch ‘em fall again? Or should I use my hands just a little bit longer?”

Good ol’ Mrs Robinson wouldn’t wait for me to answer and shifted the weight of the lifting down to surround them instead. She was especially lovely with them; appreciative. The idea of tossing the sweater off as requested wasn’t exactly her highest priority any longer. She might rather just show them off a moment more before the big reveal.

Hmm. Interesting.

“Yeah. I like that,” I told her.

And I did. I liked that she ultimately chose and not me. Also rather interesting.

“Your super stiff cock is all drippy again, daddy.” And it was. “Can I have some?” Nope. I hadn’t wanted her to, “Off of the floor I mean? Lick it up? Off your toes?”

Once again she wouldn’t wait for an answer and began to take my boots off. It was troublesome. I had trouble being a tree as she very calmly went about that. One hand on the working. While the other hand went on handling more important areas that can’t ever escape her chest quite completely. I liked that she had no trouble with it at all. While I would somewhat. Cuz you know, that’s the way I had met her. Before.

I managed to not fall over and by the time she’d got them both off I had not only dripped all over her head but dotted up my knees with it among other areas. I was plenty syrupy to see her after all these months, you understand.

“I can take this off now if you like,” she went on with the absolutely adult baby talk. Mind you, she’s a full grown woman (and then some) allowing herself to inhabit a space of decidedly and unoplogetic femininity. She wasn’t pretending to be anything less than that. She’s never been anything other than entirely authentic, as far as I could tell. “If you promise I can suck your stinky toes, sum.”

Then unlike most other times. This time she would wait for my response. Let go of her primed torpedo’s carefully and sat her hands down on her knees quite softly. Observed my jerking cock tell her anything else that she needed to know.

I put my hands back on myself the way they had been. But would not offer any other response than that, and some enrichment to the method on myself. Until my toes were taking a pretty rude helping of miracle wax and her bottom lip began to hurt a little.

“Now might be a good time,” I told her. And winked (which may have been a first for me with her, btw.)

She nearly forgot the plan and tilt her torso down to begin lapping at my toes real slinky like - but caught herself and tilted back, shook her titties both back and forth for a bit of enjoyable tossing, then both arms crossed to pull the weighty yarn up off her shoulders and allow me to watch gravity and her have a battle that she magically always wins.

“Indeed. Well past time, I might possibly wanna warn you. Daddy.” Her nostrils were as hot as her mouth when her ass went up in the air to push her face down where she’d wanted it. “Should I show you?” she went on tonguing between my toes, rather responsibly (if you could call it that). “I mean ... how naughty I’ve become back there.”

And that’s when things collapsed for her a bit. She nearly tumbled it all entirely forward and had to grab my one ankle with both hands to sustain herself from a self-induced faint.

I had to pause, myself, while witnessing that surprise.

When she sat her heavenly ass back to land on her own ankles I could see how lost in thought her eyes had gone. Her torso slowly carried itself back into balance - like one of those weeble wobbles or whatever they call them these days. Her hands would calmly find her knees the way they had so carefully done before. But the iris of her eyes would be most lost in white for a reasonably concerning amount of time.

Yikes. I think there might have been a little bit more to think about there than just “daddy talk”. Or even what “naughty” might mean for that matter. Or how much so.

Problem is. I’m not much of a lifeguard. And a set of slow moving tits like that would pretty much occupy most of the brain relay I could muster up myself. So I wasn’t about to rescue her from whatever that was. Other than to declare.

“Fuck. Those are such massive tits.”

For reals. I’m sorry I was there and you weren’t. And yes I’d been gobbling - when not ogling - them up for years firsthand by then. But honestly, kind of defies the laws of logic. If not science. It’s really not something you ever quite get used to. Witnessing her wonders the way I had been so liberally allowed to.

“How in the world did they get that way?”

Her neck would ultimately regain it’s strength points and find a way to hold her head up steadily enough once more. So that’s good then. Right?

“Oh my goodness. I nearly fainted. Um ... that’s never happened before.”

Alright. I guess I should have heard that as a compliment but I was busy in a book of my own at the moment and couldn’t quite square the reality equation on her 8th Wonder of the World boobs once more.

“How the hell have you managed to carry those around all these years?”

She had a response for that. Not the most pleasant one.

“Be careful how you phrase things with a woman, Howard.”

My bad.

“I’m sorry. I just meant. My mother would probably kill to have...”

“Let’s not talk about your mother just now.”

Okay, so I’m a Freshman in College then. Maybe the full grown man thing has a ways to go yet. Still lots more room left for error.

Her eyes stopped warbling around in her head enough that her vision went back to the dick in my hand I had continued to slowly stroke back and forth; forward and back. Like a metronome to catch back time with, maybe. As if I was anything purposeful like that at all with it.

“I can tell you that it hasn’t been easy. Although I’m not complaining.” Her hands went back to them and blindly proved how much that’s true. “You’re so talkative now, Howard. Have you been off at college or something for a spell?”

She winked at me.

God I’d missed that. Even the thought of an almost one.

“Tell me more. I mean,” her eyes would bore deeper into the width of my knuckles and however I might wanna hold or alter what’s in there, “ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

Then they would rise and softly meet my own once more.

“For you, that is. An open book for you, I am.”

It struck me then. Oh shit, I think I’m in love. Am I in love? Is that what this is? But what about my mother? Godammit.

Rather than deal with any of that I lurched forward and shoved my cock hard in her mouth. Grabbed her by the back of the head, hands tangled up in her magnificently thick and luxuriously long brown hair (incidentally), and skull fucked her.

Not surprisingly, she adapted to that suddenness without all that much grief, if any.

“MmmHmm!!” she surmised.

So I tonsil tagged her. Both hands on the back of her head now.

“MmmHMM!!” she answered, positively.

But then she coughed. I’d never made her cough before. Maybe she was out of practice or had forgotten how to handle me but I wasn’t. I’d been slamming lots of college girls who couldn’t ever measure up to her.

She wiped her chin clean as a natural response and then demanded I get back at it.

“Face fuck me, Howard!! I’ve missed you so much!”

So I did.

“I hate missing you.”

We were in combat now. She would fight herself off of my hips in an effort at some more verbal assurance. And then throw herself back at me asking for a heavier hand than I’d had before.

“Tell me that you miss me too!”

Shut the fuck up, I can’t talk right now. If I tell you what I’m thinking it’ll be over for you and me both. You’ll close up shop on me. I know you will. I’ll be buried beneath your house or brewed into another batch of anti-gratity titty oil. Men get eaten in here and I’ve over-stayed my welcome long ago.

Rather than comply in some audible capacity I simply wrestled her backwards into the kitchen - my dick never leaving her mouth - until her head hit the edge of the table in there. And ordered her up on her feet. Of one mind that I might best just devour her instead.

“Ass up. Over the table.”

And she would agree with that as a suitable answer.

“Yes daddee!!”

Not only would she throw herself willfully across the table but also spread her cheeks apart for dealers choice of either agreeable hole. Did I not mention that when she’d come back down from upstairs it had only been the sweater she had on? So, yeah, there was nothing in the way now. I smacked her hard on the ass in a manner that might make my mom proud and spit on her too, right between the cheeks.

“You want it in the ass, Mrs Robinson?”

I offered just a little bit of kindness.

“Fuck yeah, daddy. DO me!!”

And she gave me her own. Rubbing her wet pussy hard and up the crack to lacquer it all up for me, if it hadn’t been enough by then. Of course she was already plenty wet. If you haven’t had a woman in her prime you might not quite yet understand - there’s never an issue with that sort of thing much. Certainly not like there might be with the younger types. She’d reached nirvana many years before and could then trust herself enough to let that river flow without concern or need for convincing any.

So I jammed it up her ample ass the way I’d learned she might appreciate best.

Fucked her good and hard over the edge of the table and did so with something near as much concern for myself as it had been for her. Whatever I couldn’t yet explain to myself appeared to be plenty much in line with whatever Mrs Robinson had been thinking anyway. She nearly began to “ruff ruff” like a rottweiler. I know what success feels like when I’m inside her and we were both enjoying very much a lot of that. It may have been combative. But somehow evolved as if each and every punch into the other would only boomerang right back and support more thorough energy for an ask of an additional one, only harder. “Thank you sir, may I have another.” That type of thing.

Something fell off the table - likely little more than a spoon - but that gave her an idea that she could only agree with and began pushing everything else off of it by herself as well. Clattering firmware and utensils, shattered plates and broken ornaments from days gone by. All the while bashing her graduated buttocks back at me.

“Show me that you MEAN it!”

The pepper shaker nearly went over the edge, if not that she identified it suddenly and grabbed it and - I kid you not - reached back and began to pepper her ass with it.

“Nice and spicy,” she added. “Made to order.”

Ever the clever one.

Not the smartest idea from a functional perspective (and good thing she hadn’t grabbed the salt) but clever none the less. I slapped that out of her hand across the room and cocked her arm behind her. Bent my body over the rest of her. My grip now hard in her hair. And whispered in her ear the best honesty I felt I could afford in the moment.

“I love fucking you.”

Then I left her ass and insert myself into a warmer place.

She nearly began to cry. I couldn’t catch up with wherever she was going. Like a hand going after a tether-ball, round and round and around - the faster she would race ahead of me. Her butt never humping me less than I had been her. Her fists clutching away at the tablecloth as that’s all that was left above the equator, and tugging on it for leverage, only annoyed it wouldn’t help bang back into me more thoroughly than her own efforts could create.

Until it all began fumbling right out of her mouth.

“I’m sorry I need it but I do.”

Sorries have no place here, I would affirm her. That’s what I’ve learned.

“I’ve always been a bad girl, Daddy.”

And that time with a capital D. Hadn’t heard it said quite like that before.

“Show me that it’s true.”

I’d thought I’d get ahead of her somehow. But that’s just not possible with a woman like Mrs Robinson. You can only do your damnedest to catch the slipstream behind her and hang on for the ride. There was something else within her that I hadn’t ever spotted. All those years behind the window and I could never quite see what had been there all along. And all these recent years within her - I hadn’t ever fully felt it before. All I’d ever done was scratch the surface, it appears. Went absent within my own self-interest well before she’d been done showing me the most important parts.

There’s something LOST within her.

Something left. Unfair.

“I would have held your baby if you wanted me to.”

I could feel it inside her now. Maybe she hadn’t allowed it herself with me before. But I could feel it now, surround me inside there. As if an even more necessary and - difficult to quantify this word as one that could exist for Mrs Robinson’s but - desperate hand of affirmation had taken ahold of me from within her own womb. Snatched my form entirely and command me not to ever let go of her again.

“I hadn’t meant to ruin that for you.”

I was cumming. It shot out of me with a force I had not known before. Which ought to be preposterous given all the cumming I’d done by then but I can assure it was not. This was different. It rifled out of me as if I had only known neglect until now.

“I wouldn’t NEED to fuck that black boy, Daddy. I just HAD to.”

And then she shot it all back out at me with a force even greater than my own. It wasn’t just the slap I’d felt from her - the enormity of her announcing these unknown parallels - she had physically done so as well. It gushed all down her legs. Not only my own ejaculation but volumes more than mine of her rebuttal or greater proclamation. She flooded my balls and her thighs; the floor between our ankles. Her legs themselves went into a shiver of a kind you’ll never know. The Richter scale does not have a number that can match that kind of hemmoraging going on within the state of a human being who’d held it all down in there all this time, until now.

She had emptied herself so entirely that her bones had been spent into liquid form. Right down to the marrow, as it were. Shocking, in a word. I’d thought I’d seen it all from Mrs Robinson but clearly that wasn’t the case before. Could there be any more of that to tell me?

I could only wrap my arms around her as best I could. She’s a larger body than I am, all things taken into consideration. I forced myself back inside her crisis - which took a fair amount of convincing to overcome both herself and the extreme tenderness my own explosion would cause me, but I fought it off quite well. As I had heard her, to Not let go.

And we wept.

We both would.

I hadn’t really known why I would. But knowing that she was would be enough to convince me to add mine to hers. It was the very first time I had honestly ever felt beyond myself. And not only coming from one direction. Again, all those years observing her and even in the recent years of “sharing” I had not ever known how to truly absorb another person, I guess. I’d only been standing at a station - looking outward. As opposed to truly inhabiting anything.