I was alone for the evening. Left to my own devices, as my mother termed it. They were going out for dinner with friends, and a late showing at the cinema, and then maybe drinks. I knew what that meant: midnight at the earliest. My little sister Fran was a few blocks away having a sleepover at a friend's.
There was one of those small cheapo pizzas in the freezer, so I shoved it in the oven and declared it dinner.
I was thinking about eating another slice, though maybe taking it into the den to see what was on t.v. I had no other plans for the night than stupid old t.v. But then the phone rang.
It was Mrs. Allen. "Hi, Donny! It's me, Marcy. Is your Mom around?"
"No, she's gone out."
"Then can I speak to your father?"
"No, they went out to dinner and a late movie."
"So you're babysitting for Franny?"
"No, she's old enough they don't pay me anymore. Besides, she's having a slumber party over at a friend's"
"Ohh, you poo-oor boy," she cooed over the phone, "left all alone. Would you like some company?"
"Oh Marcy," I moaned, "please."
I was just 17, and just about splitting out of my pants just hearing her voice. It wasn't my girlfriend talking about coming over. I didn't have a girlfriend. Not a real girlfriend; not one you can talk about and walk around with. What I had, sometimes, was Marcy.
I'd known her as Mrs. Allen for the number of years before the day she told me to call her Marcy, her pretty name. She was just one of Mom's friends until I started getting girl boners, and then she became a goddess. I had the biggest crush in the world, but I kept it a perfect secret. She may have been pushing 40, but the way she dressed, and her breasts and behind ... I thought she was the sexiest girl in the universe. But I kept that all very quiet, except some late nights alone in my bed.
I'd been scheduled for months to take the PSAT at this auditorium of some city college way across town. Dad would drop me off on his way to work, and then Mom would pick me up at the end, around noon. She got a schedule conflict early enough it was a full week when I knew that she'd arranged for Mrs. Allen to pick me up.
Which gave me a full week to be nervous, and jack-off into the night. I probably should've been studying harder, but my mind was preoccupied.
The test itself, I knew I'd aced. I'd never hit perfection, but I was betting I'd beaten out everyone else in my class.
I came out of the building into the bold sunlight and started looking around for Mrs. Allen's spiffy little car. I couldn't find it, but then suddenly there she stood. I truly didn't recognize her at first. She was in a short skirt and a tight top, blending in with the girls coming out from the testing.
"How'd it go?" she asked with a wide smile.
"Pretty good," I nodded my head.
"Good boy," she said, advancing, surprising me with a tight hug. I was immediately embarrassed. I'd never before felt breasts pressed against my chest. Not to mention they were Mrs. Allen's breasts.
She moved away. "Come on." She was parked in a far lot. I followed her, watching her sway. I didn't understand why girl butts were so pretty to me, just that Mrs. Allen's was the best ever.
I was so glad to be in her car and going home. I kept looking at her legs because I couldn't help it. Then she'd say something, and I'd look up with guilt. To the lips I wanted to kiss, and the eyes that sparkled and bored straight into mine. Even that enchanted, I couldn't help the way my look drifted from her pretty face down to her even lovelier bosom. Towards the vortex of the last done up button on her blouse, and the straining fabric directly below.
At one point in the drive, after I'd given a banal answer to one of her chit-chat questions, and was trying hard not to peek anymore, Mrs. Allen looked at me with a grin. "So, you like looking at my legs, do you? Almost as much as you like staring at my boobs. And this is hardly the first time, you naughty boy, you."
I was busted, totally busted. I'd started getting uncomfortable in my underwear, but that went away real fast. She'd tell my parents, and I had no idea what would happen then. I hadn't really done anything, so maybe they'd just look at me with disgust from now on. Our son, the pervert.
"Please don't tell Mom and Dad," I gushed. God, I was starting to cry.
And there we were, stopped at a red light.
Mrs. Allen got a pained expression, which I thought spelled even worse things. But then her whole face lit up in one big smile. She reached a hand out to my cheek and brushed a tear away. "Baby, you didn't do anything wrong. It's just nature talking. Donny, you're always a perfect young gentleman. So what would I tell your parents anyway? That there's something wrong with their son because he likes to look at old ladies?"
"You're not an old lady," I blurted out before I could stop my lips and tongue. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
Mrs. Allen gave a little laugh. "A perfect young gentleman, shy, but possessed of a silver tongue, I'd say."
The light turned green. As we drove off, she reached over and gave my thigh a squeeze. She returned the hand to the wheel. "There's only one thing wrong with you, Donny. Wanna know what it is?"
"What?" I fairly croaked.
Mrs. Allen reached over blindly to give me a quick pat exactly where I was getting uncomfortable again in my underwear. "You need a girlfriend," she giggled. "Girlfriends are great for lots of things."
We drove in silence for a few minutes. I broke it, slightly surly. "It's not like I don't want a girlfriend." I added, "I mean, I think it's up to them in the first place."
She tilted her head. "Sort of. But girls aren't mind-readers either."
We'd hit another red light. "I'm surprised you don't have girls flocking around you. You're a gorgeous boy, Donny. I'm surprised you don't have girls tucking their phone numbers wrapped in their panties into your pants pockets as you stand at your locker between classes. Actually, I'm not surprised. I remember high school. You're that rare treasure, the shy cute boy who has no idea how really cute he is. Trust me, soon some lovely girl will find you and sweep you away to her nest, where she'll want to love on you for the rest of your life."
That seemed poetic but unlikely, or at least years away. I said as such.
The light went green, and Mrs. Allen seemed to be concentrating on her driving. We came to another light, and it was green, but she braked instead and turned into the parking for a connected series of strip malls.
She drove back between a pair of them, turning left on the T to the long wide lane spanning them all. Where all the trucks came down to make their backdoor deliveries. Back behind that, behind the original strip mall of that stretch, there was an overly ambitious overflow parking lot. The paving was still mostly intact, but the surrounding undergrowth had recovered to make the lot a very quiet spot.
I knew the place from the voices in school. It was called, simply, The Lot. It was ancient history. It'd been a notorious drive-in make-out spot. But then kids had trashed into party with beer and stuff, and the cops'd kept it locked down ever since. Although apparently not lunchtime on a Saturday.
Mrs. Allen pulled in close to the shelter of a feral bush, put it in park, and then quietly turned off the car. The quiet ensued for a minute until she broke it. "So? What are you thinking about?" she quietly asked.
"How weird it is. How it seems so secluded here, and how strange that is since we're just in a parking lot."
"It is deceptively like a Lover's Lane out in the country, not a crappy lot behind a strip mall. But my sons are a lot older than you, so I'm well aware of this place's original reputation."
I was born when my Mom was in her early thirties. Mrs. Allen had obviously started a lot earlier. I started thinking about her as a teen, in a car with a boy, parked in a place a lot like this. Except out in the country and not in the middle of the day. Just the thought of her as a girl made me want so much to be that boy so much it showed even more.
"Donny. I'm flattered by your words, and your stares. You make me feel like a girl again. You make me want to show you something a girlfriend is good for. So why don't you just settle down, unbuckle, unbutton and unzip? Tug all that denim out of the way. If you show me your erection, I'll show you my breasts."
I ... I ... I could not believe my good luck. It didn't seem possible. It couldn't really be real. I kept having to rethink what Mrs. Allen had just said, in case maybe I'd heard it wrong. I was taking a long time. It just seemed like I could get in so much trouble if during the drive home of her favor I suddenly yanked down my pants in the car of one of Mom's best friends.
Mrs. Allen undid her seatbelt and turned, leaning over and in, not stopping until the tip of her nose was the tip of my nose.
"Shy boy," she whispered her eyes a lock on mine, bare inches away. She leaned up a little to kiss the tip of my nose. "Guess I'll get this party started myself." Her hands roamed across my midsection, and then they had my belt undone faster than I could've managed myself.
"I've always been the kind of girl ready to get things going, especially in this department." She had me out in the open in seconds. I had small soft girl hands gripping me for the first time ever. I was dying, but being instantly reborn. Over and over.
She gave a little laugh. "Nothing hotter than shy boys, except ones with great big dicks!" Mrs. Allen leaned down and took my quaking into her mouth, encouraging me with the pull of her lips. She knew it was my first blow-job. I tried to stick around to enjoy it, but her lips and tongue let me last about twenty seconds.
I thought that was it, that the car would start up and I'd be dumped home soon way confused. Instead, Mrs. Allen kept lying there, her face in my lap. She shifted in her seat to get more comfortable. "Thanks so much for the nice mouthful of yum-yum!"
I would've started thinking about how as part of the bargain I was supposed to get to see her tits, but then she never let her hands leave me. She was kissing my cock again, but then she dipped down where I'd never even considered the idea. That a girl would take my balls in her mouth, and tease them with her tongue, well, that hadn't been broached in the Sex-Ed section of Health class.
I learned that that would make me almost instantaneously hard again.
I ... I responded. She made me quit thinking about her tits. Mrs. Allen took me on a long slow lazy ride up into her nice wet warm mouth. She made me suffer, knowing how I'd last. I thought we were supposed to be doing things fast; instead time slowed down, and my release remained always on the horizon.
Until she jiggled my balls and pressed the trigger.
There was no doubt in my mind that I'd died and gone to heaven. I'd obviously died of a heart attack from the first blow-job of my life. In heaven, it was great!--you get hard again right away, ready for your next blow-job!
Mrs. Allen dried my happy self with her tongue, tucking me back in my underwear, dragging my pants back up enough I could finish the job. She was fast back driving me home. I finally regained speech. I joked, "I thought you were going to show me your boobs."
She concentrated on the road in silence, with a glowing smile. Then she glanced at me. "Maybe next time."
I started getting hard again, thinking about the possibility of a next time.
Another mile of awkward silence passed before she spoke her footnote. "Donny, I'd love to teach you about love--be your first girlfriend--but it'd have to be our secret."
"I'll do anything you want," I said.
"Good!" she grinned.
It was more silence until she pulled in front of my house. I moved to get out of the car, but she put a hand on my shoulder to hold me. With me thus transfixed, both her hands dug in her purse for a small weekly planner calendar. She studied it for a moment, then declared, "Why don't you cut school Tuesday?"
I had so many objections ready, which she brushed aside. "No, I mean, go to school, ride the bus with your sister, check in with homeroom, and then dodge out past the tree line. I'll be waiting on the next street over. I promise we'll get you back in time to slip back in and ride the bus home with your sister."
Mrs. Allen undid her seatbelt and leaned over to kiss me lightly on the lips. She remained hovering, smiling, her nose nudging mine. "Please say yes." She kissed me again, but this time her lips stayed on mine. I finally let my lips part, and her tongue took advantage. I was kissing like I didn't know what kissing involved. Her kissing was showing me. I was having my first kiss. Kissing the mouth that fifteen minutes earlier had given me my first blow-job. Her hand went roaming around until it found one of mine, which she then gently lifted and pressed against one of the breasts that'd been killing me for several years.
And then she pulled completely away. We were, after all, parked in front of my parents' house in full daylight. Despite the tinted windows. My sister could be riding her bike up and down the street.
I got out of the car 'cause I was getting another hard-on. "It's up to you, sweet Donny. I'll be there Tuesday morning, but I won't wait long. This is really about what you want. And that's okay. It's all just between the two of us."
I didn't know what it was all about. Except that I wanted it all. It was like I was walking down the long drab hall of my life, and this door I didn't even know was a door suddenly opened. A door to a very exciting room.
"I'll be there," I nodded shyly.
"I knew you would--I know you will," she smiled back.
"The thing is, could I get back for last period? I have a big test."
Mrs. Allen gave her lips a lick. "We'll see. We need to get you back for the bus home anyway, so maybe we can manage to get you back a little earlier. But that'll be up to you."
That was that, I figured, as she hit the button, rolling up the passenger-side window. She gave a sexy little wave, and then shifted into drive. She'd barely gone twenty feet when her brake lights came on. She reversed back to me, then buzzed the window back down. "Come here, come close--put your head in the window." I did as told. Mrs. Allen gave me a devilish look. She slipped her hands up inside the sides of her skirt. "In case you were wondering, what we did back there got me really excited." She lifted her hips and then bent down, finally pulling the tiny rolled up pair of panties past her shoes.
"I'm sure you can smell the evidence," she passed the bouquet into my hands. She tucked the panties into my hands, and then pressed my hands up to my nose. She relented, but I continued unaided. Her hands went back to the steering wheel. "Next time I see those panties, I want to see them stained and stiff with your stuff. Pardon me now. I need to get home: hubby's gonna get real lucky tonight, whether he wants it or not. My eyes will be closed in splendor, while I pretend it's you."
The window went up and I barely got my arms out of the way before Mrs. Allen roared away.
It took me a couple seconds to regroup and realize I was standing at the edge of our yard in my neighborhood, in broad daylight, holding a pair of panties to my face. I shoved them deep down my pants pocket.
And then, Franny did indeed come tearing up on her bike. "Was that Mrs. Allen's car I just saw? I was just riding and then this car honked and I saw a hand waving..."
"Yea, she picked me up from the test."
"So how do you think you did?" she asked.
"Better than I ever expected, I think."
"That's great!" Franny was always a great cheerleader. "What's that smell?"
"Don't you smell that smell?"
I shrugged. We were outside. The only thing I could distinctly smell was jammed in my pocket. I thought fast. "Oh, that smell. Yea, now that you're here. It's like a tomcat got in our garage and sprayed on your bike."
"Oh thanks! Yuck," she shoved off, stomping down on the high pedal. Fran rode away and the smell stayed with me, as my secret. I carried the secret into the house and up into my bedroom. I closed and locked the door before I dared pull the panties out of my pocket.
Slowly I unfurled them. The panties proved dainty and indeed quite damp. I was racking my brain about where I could hide the garment. I settled on shoving it in the bottom side of my pillow case. I wasn't thinking of anything further right then. The hard-on that she'd started by giving me the panties had simmered down. Maybe in an hour or two or more like tonight, I'd truly be ready to, as she asked, jack off in her panties.
I brought the delicate piece of fabric to my nose for one last sniff. I instantly became raging hard again. I left a little last dollop in the crotch. I buried the panties as planned, extra moist against my pillow. I did a quick clean-up, going back down to the garage and getting on my bike.
I went out and found Franny. We wound up riding bikes together forever. My sister seemed so happy that I felt delighted. Fran was a very cool sister, despite when she was annoying.
Fran led us on a long ride, calling back behind, "Come on! Let's go have some fun!" She took us a long distance, to another part of town, through a beautiful big parkland. I knew it by car, but didn't know how best it was by bike.
I did have a disturbance. With Fran leading the way, I had impure thoughts. I hadn't noticed how she'd developed. Or I had, but I'd done my best to ignore it. Now there was no ignoring it. Up on that saddle, powering the pedals, I saw how my sister had developed a really cute bottom. I thought of boyfriends looking at that, and was slightly jealous.
We reached the turn-around point, parked atop our steeds and panting. I was so thirsty I was ready to drink from a hose. We'd emerged from the park to a commercial strip. We rested off to the side of an old gasmart. I wished I had the coins to go in and buy something to drink.
Fran pointed at the burger franchise half a block away. "Let's go get a late lunch."
I pointed at my pockets with a shrug. "I didn't think to bring money."
"I did!" she brightened. "My treat!"
With my sister paying, who was I to resist? Nevertheless, I didn't want to appear like a jerk. In line, I started studying the crappy Value Meals menuette. Fran shoved at my shoulder, "Shut up! Get what you want. I said it's my treat. And I don't want my treat to be a Crappy Meal!"
She paid, we waited, and then we took our plastic trays to a plastic table, a plastic booth. We dug in, chatting about this and that. For a brother and a sister, we'd always been pretty friendly. I made a funny remark about a neighbor and Franny slapped my hand while trying to not laugh soda out her nose.
We started plotting our route home. It started out friendly but then suddenly Fran started getting irritated and bossy, insisting that we ride back home the same park way, even though it was longer and had more hills. But it was the park. I would've chosen the straight flat streets home, but I knew how to pick my battles.
I put my index finger perpendicular to my lips, without making a sound. "Of course we're going home through the park." Fran could've suggested getting on the Interstate home, and I would've followed her for the guilty view.
Fran got preoccupied with something on her side under her arm.
"What happened? What's wrong?" I asked, genuinely concerned.
She blushed. "It's this stupid bra. I broke a sweat on the ride and now this stupid old bra is all itchy. I don't know why I wore it anyway. It's not like I even need a bra."
Franny stated that looking up to my face, and it about broke my heart. This'd all come right out of left field, but it certainly explained my sister's sudden crankiness. She obviously didn't have any bust, except why was the old bra so uncomfortable?
I looked right back at my sister. "You don't know what you're talking about. You're still growing. And you poke out your shirts fine enough to give any boy naughty thoughts. So cross that off your list of worries."
Fran grabbed my hand and squeezed it painfully tight. "Thanks." Then she relaxed, smiling and patting my hand. "Ready for the park?"
I agreed, standing, my hand still lightly in hers helping milady to her feet. Fran curtsied. "Ready to roll?" I indicated the door.
"First I need to go pee. I'll be right back."
I'd done that before we'd ordered, first thing after locking my bike and going through the door, so I was good. I tapped her shoulder as she turned. She paused and I plucked at her bra strap. "As long as you're in there, why don't you lose your irritation. Flush it down the toilet. It doesn't fit you anymore. Despite what you think, you've outgrown it."
She was gone long enough I went out to the bikes. It was my padlock that kept us chained together around a little planted tree. I twirled the numbers, releasing us, winding the steel cord and locking it back under my seat. I was up on my bike when Franny finally returned.
It was kind of obvious that she'd ditched the bra. Moreso than I would've guessed. It was hardly chilly, but that's the way her nipples looked. She came swaggering towards me, a big smile on her face.
"I know I'm just your brother, but trust me, you fill out a shirt quite nicely. You should have no worries in that department."
She had the sway down perfect.
"But, please, tell me you didn't really flush it down the toilet."
Fran squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. "I was ready to shove it deep down in the trashcan in the Women's Room. But then I had a funny idea. I went back out into the little back hall and waited a minute. Then I opened the door into the Men's, and left it draped atop the silo of used paper towels in that trashcan."
"You did not!"
"I did so!"
My sister was a genius.
"Let's get going," I laughed, mounting my steed for the ride home.
Once home, Mom was immediately loud about where we'd been, because she didn't know whether to get dinner started or what!
Fran explained how we'd gone for a long bike ride together, stopping for the burgers and stuff..."
Mom interrupted, "What? So you two went on like a date? Aww, that's kinda sweet." She'd been kind of nudging us both, individually, about how neither of us had started dating. It wasn't really my fault that, before this Mrs. Allen thing, no one had expressed interest in being my girlfriend.
Franny and I looked at one another in a panic. I wasn't the only one blushing. That's not what we'd meant, right? I recovered before my sister, saying the words. "It wasn't a date, jeez! Mrs. Allen dropped me off from the test and Fran was riding her bike. So I grabbed mine and we wound up going for a ride. We stopped for burgers, and then we rode home."
"Sounds like a date to me," Mom trilled, laughing at us, her spawn.
We did have a later dinner, once Dad started grumbling about it. We all stayed up late watching movies. I kind of got the feeling that the parents wanted their kids to go to bed, so I was the first off the sofa, voyaging off to bed. Suddenly Franny was yipping at my heels. She beat me to the bathroom, to pee and brush her teeth first. She was pretending to be coming down the hall when I exited from my round. She brushed swiftly past me, turning to stand in the doorway to her room. She had a crushed look to her face. "It was too sort of like a date ... I thought," she turned away into her room.
I grabbed at her wrist but she slipped, "Franny, I had a great time riding bikes with you... " There was no point in saying any more words. She slammed her door shut, and instantly cranked her stereo. Some dumb guy was going on singing like a girl about wanting to know what love is.
I went into my room mystified. Mystified by my sister, which happened now and then. You wake up and just live your life, and then someone gets mad at you. Leave it to my sister to get stewed by semantics. A guy can't really date his sister. I thought Fran was very date-able, saying so in a very proud big brother sort of way, to bolster her self-esteem; not that I really wanted her to be dating some guy, some dumb young horny kid.
You can't date your own sister because dating implies maybe wanting something more, like stuff that's against the law. Not to mention that the whole thing didn't make any sense.
Besides, I had more important things to think about. I went into my room wondering all these weird thoughts, but then I gathered them all and shunted them all back out into the hall, clicking my door shut.
I got ready for bed. I had no idea how Sunday would dawn with my crazy family. I didn't really care. It would be the first of some time that I needed to just get through.
I went into my room, counting the hours until I skipped school on Tuesday. I got into bed and turned out the lights, and though I was tired, I was also sort of agitated. More in my mind, than in my cock, all comes considered.
I lay there tossing and turning, processing the day. If I'd been able to get hard, I could've just jacked off, letting me doze off to sleep in that glow. It didn't help that my room was not at all dark. I'd forgotten to pull my window shade, which usually didn't matter so I usually left the shade up. My window looked out on the garage roof and some trees. And by a sliver of our old neighbors' driveway light. It was high up a pole back by the basketball backboard, leftover from when their boys weren't all grown up and gone away. They'd sometimes turn it on when taking out the trash. If they forgot and left it on all night, my room glowed like the full moon.
But I was too tired and lazy to get up and pull the shade. Instead, I pulled my pillow over my head.
I'd totally forgotten, until the smell about knocked me out. I pulled the pillow tighter down, reveling in the scent of the panties trapped in my pillowcase. I suddenly felt a lot less lonely. And a lot more excited. I had Mrs. Allen's damp panties tucked away like a secret. They came out of hiding long enough for me to soil them again.
And then no telling where they wound up. I didn't so much settle into sleep as simply pass out. The neighbor's light bedamned! I fell asleep nestled between my lover's thighs.
My future lover's thighs, if all went well.
I was first out of homeroom, ditching any tails. Instead of going down the hall to my first period class, I dodged outside. It was a nice day, so lots of kids were avoiding the halls. I wasn't expecting that, so I slowly moved over to hide around the corner of the building, avoiding any windows.
When the hubbub died down I started taking a leisurely stroll away from the building. But that was taking too long. I didn't want anyone noticing me, and I certainly didn't want to be late to the road. I broke and ran like a cat for the tree line. I got to the designated road, and it was open and empty. I stood there at the edge of the asphalt for what seemed like a dangerous amount of time. After awhile a car did approach, but it wasn't Mrs. Allen's. The guy at the wheel turned and looked at me long and hard as he drove by. Then there was a woman in a mommy-van coming the other way, and she glared at me even harder.
I retreated back to the trees, and stood there, lightly camouflaged and totally confused. I stood there for ages, and with each passing minute I felt stupider and stupider. I didn't know what to do, so I decided to count, slowly, to 100, and then I'd go back to first period and take a tardy. I started counting backwards and got to 85 when the whole idea seemed so retarded. As though by counting I could summon something that just wasn't coming.
With my head fully hung, I heard a roar and spray of gravel. It was her car! And she was honking the horn like mad in the morning silence. I was still moving from the trees to the road when she kicked the passenger door open.
"Come on, baby, get in here. I'm so sorry I'm so late. God, I'm so glad you're still here."
I got in the car and she continued, "I was so worried. I was afraid I'd lost you." The tips of her fingers squeezed the tips of my fingers. I got bold and squeezed back. "The only way you can lose me is by tossing me in the trash."
We were driving by then, but then we hit a stop sign. "I'd never do that to you, Donny. Something like this involves a lot of trust. You trusted that I would show up, and I trusted that you'd wait for me. Despite the unfortunate delay."
The car was rolling again, and I kept staring out the passenger window. I'd glanced at the car clock. I'd blended in with the trees for well over an hour. She kept rubbing her hand on my knee, trying to get me to look her way. "Why were you so late?" I sort of whispered.
We got to a red-light, and Marcy grabbed my chin and made me look at her. "It couldn't be avoided. Usually the alarm goes off and I get up to make Joe breakfast while he showers and dresses for work. This morning, we woke up and he wanted me. I always give my husband the green-light. I thought it'd be a quickie, but it wasn't. My man satisfied me enough I was dopey and slow going about getting breakfast going. After he was out the door, I wanted a nice long hot shower myself. And then I wanted to take the time to make myself look pretty for you."
I couldn't argue with that. She had on a skirt so short it barely reached her thighs. At another stoplight she turned in her seat a bit and let her legs go a little slack. I caught a glimpse of her panties, sustained and enhanced. And matching the brassiere I could see through her sheer buttoned-low blouse.
We were back to roaring down an open stretch of road, when she looked at me and saw me looking at her. "First lesson: fifteen percent of the time you get to see a girl's panties, it's an accident. All the rest, she's showing you something, hoping to get you interested in what she's interested in."
We drove on in relative silence. Marcy had her spare hand slowly circling my inner thighs. I had a hand lightly mirroring hers on her thigh, because she'd place it there. The difference was she was touching denim, while my fingers touched the smoothness of her inner thigh, just below the high hem.
"Where are we going?" I wondered aloud.
"We have a guest bedroom that rarely gets used. I'm sure the mattress is very firm. And I want you to be my guest. Until we need to get you back to school." She paused, then added gaily, "Hope that agenda suits you!"
My heart was racing.
"So, how does it feel to be so close to having your dreams come true?"
I couldn't even talk, I so completely couldn't believe this was happening.
We entered the familiar subdivision. She braked the car in front of some random house. Mrs. Allen turned to me with a chirpy expression. "Your decision basically doesn't matter." Her look turned all sultry. "In the end, no matter what, I'm gonna drag my pretty boy into my house, and have my way with him."
I relearned speech. "Please," I gasped.
"Good," she answered, looking very pleased indeed as she drove on to her own driveway.
She hit the remote on the sunscreen as we came down the block. We pulled into the garage and she turned off the car, hitting the other button on the remote to cocoon us in privacy. Mrs. Allen fixed a look at me, and then giggled coquettishly. "Time to start calling me Marcy."
Marcy put two fingers to her lips, like a double shush, except she kissed the two fingers and then pressed the kissed fingers to my lips. "Follow me," she instructed.
She unbuckled and got out of the car, and I swiftly followed, tagging along like a shadow, or a lap dog. I followed her from the garage into the kitchen. I followed her through this open area between a dining room and a spacious livingroom. She led me down a long hall and through a doorway.
I followed her and stepped into a cozy guestroom. "Welcome to our bed." She slipped around me, shutting the door and pointedly locking the latch. "Nothing will disturb us. I just want to symbolically seal us into this room."
I was not about to argue with any of her logic. This gentle woman I lusted after. She kept eye contact as she posed while turning down the bed.
Once straightened up, Marcy slunk towards me, keeping her eyes swaying straight into mine. She came close, but not close enough, stopping to say, "You've been trying to sneak views of my undies, so it seems only fair that I should share. Especially since I went out and bought them just for you."
She unbuttoned her blouse a lot slower than I would've--finally it slid off her shoulders. I'd barely recovered from that gasp when she announced, "Wait'll you see the matching panties."
Time had suddenly gone all molasses on me. I heard the sound of a zipper being drawn down. The skirt was on the floor, and Mrs. Allen was standing in front of me in lingerie you didn't get at Target. The fabric was light lavender, completely gossamer except for patches of gold.
You could've almost called it leopard print, if that leopard was named lust. She teased her brassiere with her hands. She teased me, squeezing her tits. "I know I promised to show you, but first I want you naked." And she meant it.
The shirt thing was the easy part of my striptease. Marcy whooped as I spun it off my fingertips. The rest was sort of embarrassing because I was hard as nails. And then there I stood, naked, poking out. Marcy got a grin and reached out an arm. She shook hands with my cock, "So nice to meet you once again."
And then she reached out further and drew me towards her. Next, her hands went back and slid up herself, her palms cupping her brassiere, making herself moan. Her hands soon darted out and found mine, moving them up to clasp those mounds for the first time. Once she had me properly acquainted, she turned in my arms, whispering, "The clasp is in the back."
Indeed, there it was, and I did undo it, in my first attempt. Marcy's hands had replaced mine up front, still holding the cups of the loosened bra against her breasts. I turned her around and got her by the wrists, pulling her modesty away.
But then I froze.
She had big Playboy boobs like back before any girl could just buy a pair like that, except not at all like that, because these were real. They pointed off her chest right at me. I'd seen rumpled pictures, but never actual breasts. The nipples were sticking out like the erasers on first grade pencils. They were surrounded by a pebbly brown circle the size of a silver dollar.
The sight made my lips pucker like they hadn't since I was an infant.
I stood there, looking like a retard, a stupid statue.
Marcy gave a little giggle. "Shy boy," she found my wrists, "when a girl shows you her breasts, it means she wants you to touch them."
I got a big dopey smile on my face as I finally got to touch them. I played with sometimes dipping my head for a moment to see if it would maybe be okay for me to suck on them.
I should've turned into the aggressor, the boy gone wild, but it was Marcy who grabbed my cock and yanked me. "Let's take this to bed, even though I'm apparently still in my panties. That way we can both be comfortable, and you can suck my tits all you want. And then maybe get my panties off."
Of course I clambered into bed after her. We got comfortable and then Marcy sort of molded herself against me. Her face was bright as it nudged up to mine. And then we were kissing.
Finally we kissed, our first kisses, my first kiss; I quickly learned that kisses involved more than lips. Her small soft tongue kept slipping in to touch mine. Touching me in ways I'd never even guessed.
When my tongue dared enter her mouth, I muffled the loud purr of a big cat, a tigress' opening roar.
We spent a long time just kissing. Deep soulful giggling kisses. Fingers fondling faces. "I love your lips and tongue so much that the girls are getting jealous." With that, she pushed my head down to her breasts, where I had a royal feast.
To touch such flesh for the first time--I felt like I was on another planet. So soft, and yet so firm, yielding yet thrusting. The thick nipples I seemed programmed to want to touch and find and then suckle.
I didn't even know what I was doing, tuning my ears to the sounds Marcy made. Her noises got ever more inciting when I dropped a gentle inexpert hand and started lightly touching her down there, through her panties, feeling as the fabric got wetter and wetter.
It wasn't long before she grabbed both my hands and hooked my fingers on either side of the waistband. "Mmm, baby, make me naked for you."
I thought about just yanking them down, getting the soaked scrap of garment out of my way. But then I decided to pull down her panties very very slowly.
"You little devil, you have so done this before--talked a girl out of her panties."
I spoke the truth. "This is the first time I've seen a girl. This magic moment, I want it to last, 'cause it's so very exciting." I had the waistband down just far enough to see the start of her curly girl hair down there.
"Pick up the pace," she sweetly giggled, "please." She lifted her hips to help me out. I slowed down again, my hands enjoying the journey as they drew the filmy fabric down off her luscious butt.
I had her panties down her thighs when I froze. The dirty photos I'd seen, the women had pelts down there, like pets in their laps. Except for the one where she was shaving her armpits and then went crazy, which looked sort of weird.
Marcy's mound had a sparse natural covering, like a delicate hand shielding the wonder. I got even harder just looking. So imagine what happened when she drew back her legs, one at a time, to help me get her panties down past her knees. But then she left her legs cocked, showing off her charms.
She looked at me so lovingly. "Remember what I did for you with my mouth? With my lips and tongue?"
What else could I do but nod, dumbly? You mean that first time, Mrs. Allen, in your car, when oh my god.
Marcy shivered and cooed, "Do that to me! please."