Girlfriend’s Mom

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At eighteen, I was not much interested in a relationship that did not involve sex, and Suzi had made it abundantly clear that she was not interested in pursuing it yet. Still, she was very attractive and we had a lot in common, so I had been seeing her from time to time in the hopes that things might eventually turn out for us.

One morning, she phoned to ask me over for dinner. I gave her an ambiguous answer. It was early in the day, and I didn’t want to make plans yet. Later I began thinking that I should have been kinder to her, and began to feel sorry. By noon, I was at the highway with my thumb in the air, planning on apologizing for the distracted manner in which I had dealt with her invitation.

Due to poor luck in hitching, it took almost half an hour to get to her neighborhood, only seven or eight miles from my home. I walked the half block from the main street to her house, finally beginning to worry that she wouldn’t be happy to see me after my conduct on the phone. When I rang the bell, her mother came to the door, seemed surprised to see me, but opened the door and invited me in.

I had met her once, briefly, a couple of years earlier when I picked Suzi up to take her to a party. There had been little opportunity for conversation then, so I barely knew her. This time I had the opportunity to pay more attention. That stupid old adage occurred to me. You know the one: a girl will grow up to look like her mom. I remember thinking that Suzi had nothing to worry about. Like Suzi, her mom was short, slender, dark-haired and pretty. Today she was dressed in a light dress and had her hair pulled back.

“Suzi’s gone out shopping,” she told me. “She and her friend left about half an hour ago.” I gave myself a mental kick for not phoning before I came. “But they should be home in an hour or so.”

I was reluctant to get back on the road, expecting more poor luck hitching, so I accepted her invitation to stay and wait. We sat in front of the television and watched reruns of old comedies for most of an hour before the phone rang. It was Suzi. She told her mom that she was going to her friend’s house for dinner. When Suzi’s mom told me, I said I might as well go home, but she said she was thawing game hens for dinner and since Suzi wouldn’t be there to eat hers, she would be happy if I would stay and eat it.

It was okay with me. I still didn’t want to hitch home, and I thought I might be able to cadge a ride from Suzi’s mom if I was lucky. Besides, I didn’t have anything else to do.

We ate dinner with Suzi’s kid sister and brother, both of whom were a lot younger than her (maybe seven or eight, not old enough to notice, really). After dinner the kids’ father picked them up for the weekend. It was the first I knew that Suzi’s parents were separated.

When the ankara escort kids were gone, Suzi’s mom smiled at me and suggested we go back to watching television. It was okay with me. I probably watched more television that afternoon than I had watched in a month before, but it was diverting. Not too diverting. I can’t recall a bit of what we watched that night.

Maybe an hour after we sat down, she got up and went into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?” she shouted back to me.

“Sure,” I figured she was talking soda.

“I’m having a screwdriver,” she told me. “Is that all right for you?”

It was the first time I can remember that any friends’ parent offered me alcohol. I tried to be cool. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Moments later she called back, “Come show me how much vodka you want.”

I stood and walked into the kitchen. She met me just around the corner, plastering her slender body against mine, wrapping her arms around my neck and swallowing my gasp of surprise in her wet and open mouth. It felt wonderful.

If there was one thing I was always ready to engage in at that age, it was sex. I forgot about the drink and responded to her kiss, wrapping my own arms around her and sucking her probing tongue deep into my own mouth. Her body was like a bowstring, tense and tight. With no conscious volition, my hand found its way between our bodies and sought her small breasts. Her blouse was already open and she wore no bra. Her nipple was a hard nub the size and shape of a thimble, and I grasped it between thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently.

“Harder,” she whispered hoarsely, breaking the kiss and breathing in my ear. I pinched harder and she moaned, levering her pelvis tightly against my achingly hard prick.

I leaned back a bit and took her other nipple in my other hand, tugging at both of them, pulling her against me for another kiss. Her hands found the snap of my jeans. They were quite tight and she had some trouble with them. I let go her nipples and undid my pants.

As I pulled the zipper down, she turned. “Let’s get in bed,” she growled. I hopped after her, pulling off my jeans. She was busy removing her own clothes as she moved ahead of me.

Moments later, I stood at the side of her bed, admiring her body. She was about forty, more than twice as old as I. Older than any woman I had been in bed with before, and she was beautiful. Her black hair contrasted wonderfully with her milk-white skin, and though her small breasts sagged a little, they were beautiful, crowned by large, dark nipples. But what riveted my attention was her shaved pussy.

This was something I had never seen before and it provided a strong contrast. She was a mature woman with what looked to me like the pussy of a ten year old. She looked escort ankara at me with innocent lust. Well, that’s what it looked like to my teenaged eye. If I hadn’t already been hard, I would have got that way pretty damned quick.

It sounds as if I stood there for long minutes, gazing at her. Don’t believe it. The impression required much less time than it takes to tell. In point of fact, I was far too hungry to stand and look. I climbed in beside her, stroking her, lowering my head to her nipples and moving down to lick and nuzzle that nude patch of heaven between her legs. I shifted, crouching between her knees to get a better angle. She caught my head between her thighs and stroked my hair, urging me to greater and greater efforts as she bucked and squealed under my oral assault. I found that, without hair to get in the way and in my teeth, eating her pussy was a whole new and wonderful experience. I delighted in the slick wetness of the smooth skin inside and outside of her cunt, and feasted lavishly.

Her aroma and flavor were slightly spicy. I would have licked and probed with my tongue and lips forever, exploring the soft pink and red folds of her cunt with my tongue, capturing the pearl of her clit between my lips, burying my face in her. But when I felt her hands on my shoulders, urging me upward, I moved over her body, stopping briefly at her nipples to bestow a lingering, suctioning kiss on each.

Anxious to bury my hot prick into the steamy depths of her cunt, I poised myself over her. She guided the blunt point of my pecker to her hungry cunt as I lowered myself into her.

“Lift your leg,” she requested. I did. She slid her own under mine. “Now the other.”

In moments, I was straddling her thighs, my hard pecker still buried deep inside her. It was wonderfully tight and wet and warm, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to last long. But I didn’t argue. I pulled up a bit, trying to judge where the head of my prick was so that I wouldn’t pull all the way out of this delicious glove. Then I eased myself back in, burying myself in her as deeply as I could manage. In this position, her cunt was as tight as any I had been in.

Thinking that I would take a leisurely approach so that I might last long enough to please her, I began to repeat my slow withdrawal. She put her hands on my hips and began pushing me out then pulling me into her. Hard.

She established the rhythm, pushing and pulling and I followed. She moaned and writhed under me, her cries inciting me to a more furious lust. I put a hand on each of her tits and pushed myself up so that I could watch her as we fucked. I wasn’t resting much weight on my hands, but I wondered for a moment if I might be hurting her. She didn’t act as if she was in pain. She acted as if she was in heat. She urged me to pump ankara escort bayan in and out of her. My cock was hard and hot and her pussy gripped at it as if it were a wet and slippery fist wrapped tightly around me. In altogether too little time, I could feel the heat rising inside me and knew it was already too late. I tried to slow down, to make it last. She urged me to fuck her faster and harder. I did as she demanded, burying my prick so deeply inside her that I could almost feel our pubic bones grinding together over and over as I repeatedly bottomed out in her. The hot jism poured from my center, burned a path through me, through my prick. As she screamed, “Fuck me! FUCK ME!” I injected it deeply into her thirsty, grasping cunt.

As my orgasm diminished, she held me deep inside her, her fingers tugging at the cheeks of my butt, the nails digging deep. She ground her hips against me, still screaming, mostly incoherently, in wild abandon. Then she hunched up against me twice more as if she were trying to pull my whole body into the depths of her pussy. She held herself tensed against me, holding her breath for long moments while I watched a deep red flush burn from her forehead down over her already blushing tits and belly.

Then she relaxed and pulled me down on top of her whispering, “thank you. Oh, thank you!” I don’t know if it was her intention, but her words swelled my ego dangerously. She opened her legs, wrapping them lightly around my hips as we rolled onto our sides, still linked, facing each other. She looked into my eyes as her fingers trailed over my chest and belly, lingering on my nipples. She kissed one of my nipples, biting it gently, then looked into my eyes again. “You are terrific,” she informed me.

“You are pretty damned wonderful yourself, Suzi’s mom,” I returned.

“Mary,” she smiled. “Will you stay the night?”

“What about Suzi?”

“She’s staying at Denise’s house tonight.”

“You set me up, didn’t you?”

“Do you mind?”

I cupped her breast and kissed her. “Not at all.”

“Good. Will you stay?”

“Sure. But I gotta call home and let mom and dad know I won’t be home.”

I made the call from the bedside phone, trying desperately to sound normal as Mary scooted down my body and cleaned our mingled juices from my pecker with her tongue before enveloping it with the warm wetness of her mouth. She made me come again while I talked to my mother. She watched me the whole time, her eyes sparkling as she milked me dry with her tongue.

Later, we made love slowly before I finally fell asleep, surprised at having come three times in as many hours.


My affair with Mary lasted less than a month, but she taught me more in that time than I would have imagined possible. My relationship with Suzi never got off the ground – I believe that, though we tried to be discrete, Suzi guessed what had happened between her mom and me. I still feel bad for Suzi, but have never regretted that too brief month with her mom.

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