And worse, I was turned on.
Knowing that the kid who had just finger-fucked me was making polite conversation with the love of my life—it was strangely thrilling. Combined with the fact that Ash wouldn’t stop blatantly checking me out, and the memory of what we’d just done…by the time Ash and my daughter left, I was practically dripping, and if I didn’t know that it would have raised suspicion, I would have thrown my husband down right there on the couch, and ridden him to orgasm.
Instead, knowing that he’d be up for a few more hours, I claimed tiredness, and went to bed early. For the next few hours, I just lay in bed and masturbated, roughly thrusting two fingers into myself, trying to mimic the exact way that Ash had done it. I managed to get myself off twice before my husband came to bed, and I had to pretend to be asleep.
* * *
The next time Georgia brought her boyfriend home, I was alone in the house.
It was a Tuesday night, and my husband was out with his bowling buddies. Since Ash’s last visit, I’d been insatiable—as soon as Georgia had left for netball practice on Saturday, I’d practically jumped my husband, but even several hours of love-making hadn’t been enough to satisfy me.
There had been no warning that Ash was coming around again, and his appearance startled me so much that even my daughter noticed. I assured her that I was all right, and her attention quickly went back to her beau.
I could certainly see why she was so fascinated by him—Ash was quite classically handsome. He had cheekbones to rival Bowie’s, and his piercing stare managed to make you feel like you were the only woman in the world.
At least, that’s how it made me feel.
Georgia had lost something in her room, and as soon as she left to fetch it, Ash’s hands were all over me. He didn’t ask permission, he didn’t wait to see how I’d react—he just stepped forward, planted one hand on my ass and pulled me toward him, while the fingers of his other hand ran up and down my neck.
I knew that what we’d done last time was wrong. And even as I masturbated to the memory, I told myself that it could never happen again, that it wasn’t fair to Georgia, and that it certainly wasn’t fair to my husband. I’m not good at lying, or keeping secrets, and it was eating me up inside.
But the gentleness, the soft way he touched me…I immediately melted. I was putty in his hands—even with my daughter due to return at any second, Ash could do anything he wanted to me—and he knew it.
Again, not expecting company, I wasn’t wearing anything remarkable—a pair of black pants with a high waist, and a simple, striped shirt. As Ash leaned down to smell my throat, everything went blurry for a few seconds, and when I realized what was happening, my pants were unbuttoned, and Ash had discovered that—just like last time—I was sopping wet.
He took half a step backward, and without saying a word, took my hand in his, and led it to his pants. My eyes widened in shock as, for the first time, I felt his hardness with my hand. Through his dirty blue jeans, true, but there it was—in my hand.
My mouth fell open—even in my fantasies, I hadn’t predicted this. I thought that he just wanted to touch an older woman—maybe as a power thing. I thought he was just interested in getting me off, but it was clear that he wanted something in return.
As he stared deeply into my eyes, his fingers began playing with the front of my panties. It was the lightest of touches, but it was all I needed to roll my eyes back in pleasure. I couldn’t believe how much power he had over me—I wanted to beg and plead for him to play with me like he had the previous week, but he just stood there, one hand brushing against the front of my panties while the other continued lightly playing with my neck.
Ash leaned forward, and planted his mouth upon my neck. My eyes rolled back into my head with pleasure, and before I knew what was happening, I’d unbuttoned his jeans, and was holding his plump cock in my hand.
There was so much wrong with the situation as we stood there: me, a middle-aged housewife, and him, an unemployed teenager dating my daughter, his cock in my hands, and his hands down my panties. But I couldn’t bring myself to care—all I could focus on was the pleasure that his slim digits were bringing me, and the hard-on I had in my grasp.
As his fingers slipped between my folds, I began stroking his cock—I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d given a hand-job, but it’s one of those things you never forget, and by the soft moans coming from Ash’s mouth, I could tell he was enjoying it.
His hand stopped toying with my neck, and instead gripped the back of my head. Aside from a slight moan as his hand pulled out of my underwear, I didn’t even try to resist as he guided my head down—soon, I was on my knees in front of him, staring at his beautiful cock, my mouth open wide.
In tandem, we groaned in pleasure. His hard-on slipped between my lips, and soon I had one hand wrapped around the base as I gave the most enthusiastic blow-job I can ever remember giving. A part of if was gratitude—he’d given me such pleasure last week, I wanted to return the favor—but a large part was simple enjoyment. I’ve always loved giving head, and in that moment, I was so turned on that I don’t think I would have stopped had my husband walked in.
I gagged slightly as I took Ash’s cock deep into my throat (he was slightly larger than my husband) but soon I was taking the entirety of his erection, coating it in my saliva as I blew the teen boy with gusto. There was a brief pause as he reached down to guide my other hand, but it didn’t take me long to work out what he wanted, and soon I was fervently rubbing myself, as I swallowed as much of the unfamiliar cock as I could.
Even as I blew Ash, he never took the hand off my neck. He showed me the rhythm he wanted, guided my head as it bobbed up and down. I could feel his orgasm approaching with mine, but just as he was about to cum, there was a noise behind me.
My eyes opened in panic, but Ash’s hand continued to grip my neck, preventing me from turning around, and forcing me to continue blowing him. I didn’t resist—I knew I was fucked no matter what I did. There was no talking my way out of the situation, and so with nothing to lose, I continued to fellate Ash, using every trick I knew.
A pair of legs entered my peripheral vision, and I was shocked as I realized that it was Georgia. She was wearing nothing but a black pair of panties and a matching bra, and she didn’t say a word, just leaned against the side-board next to Ash, and spread her legs as he reached down and slipped a finger inside her panties.
Perhaps due to overload, perhaps due to the orgasm that was approaching, my brain simply switched off at that point. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening, and so it became irrelevant. My daughter’s presence, her unusual dress, and her complete lack of reaction to finding her mother giving her boyfriend oral sex—none of it mattered. All I cared about was the feeling between my legs, and the cock in my mouth.