My eighteen-year-old fingers trembled as I grasped the top of the zipper.
“There is a tiny clasp at the top,” she said. “Make sure you unlatch it before moving the zipper.”
I laugh now, but it took a good minute for my shaking fingers to operate a simple fastener.
“Now be careful with the zipper. Take it slow. I don’t want you to ruin the dress.”
There was a good chance that my idea of slow was three time faster than hers, but I managed to get the zipper nearly to the bottom when she stopped me.
“That’s far enough. Now slip it off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.”
Which revealed an elegant pair of red lace panties which hugged an absolutely exquisite ass. She kicked the dress to the side but kept her back towards me.
“Before we proceed,” she said, “tell me of your prior experience with women.”
How did I tell a nearly naked woman, who was just inches away from my quickly hardening dick, that I had absolutely no experience with the opposite sex? Zero. Nada. Not that I didn’t want to, but a boy who had never set foot in a classroom – whose only friend was the son of other spies — had few opportunities to meet girls his age.
“My experience is, uh, extremely limited,” I mumbled.
“Well, we need to change that. You cannot succeed in life with little or no knowledge of the gentler gender.”
She turned around, giving me my first ever close-up view of a live woman’s naked breasts and said, “Take off your clothes and make love to me.”
I froze in place. The thirty something woman that I originally considered as nothing more than an over aged babysitter looked better than anything I’d seen in magazines or the internet. And trust me, my research was extensive.
Her pear-shaped breasts were big enough to form an appealing valley of cleavage but not so large as to sag. Her thimble sized nipples, mounted on perfectly symmetrical areolas, pointed slightly skyward, as if they were an extra set of eyes looking directly up at mine. Her waist was not the ridiculous shape of an anorexic runway model. It curved in sufficiently to form the desired hourglass shape and then flared back out to accent the womanly ass I had coveted from behind just seconds before. Michelangelo could not have formed a more perfect body.
“Well,” Mrs. Bancroft said with an amused grin on her face. “Must I ask you twice?”
Still unable to speak, I quickly closed the space between us and tentatively put my hands on her breasts. I stroked them at first, like a young child petting a puppy. When she didn’t complain, I progressed to a gentle fondling and then an outright kneading of her flesh.
“You can taste them if you like. Use your tongue. Start at the bottom, lick to the areola and then around the nipple.
“Good, now give my nip a little kiss and then hold it between your lips while you wet the very tip with your tongue.
“That’s perfect,” she said as I followed her instructions to a T. “Now increase the pressure with your lips and gently pull away until my nip slips out of your mouth.”
I watched cross eyed as her boob stretched and then heard a satisfying ‘plop’ when the nipple escaped my lip lock and sprang back towards her chest.
“Well done. Now take both nips between your thumbs and fore fingers… Do you notice a difference?”
“Yes ma’am. This one is slightly bigger and harder,” I said giving the recently exercised nipple a gentle squeeze.
“Do you know what that means?” she asked.
“You had an orgasm?”
“Not hardly,” she laughed. “But it is one of many indications that I might have slightly enjoyed the experience.”
“What do I do next?” I asked.
“Whatever you want. My body is at your disposal.”
“But… I don’t know where to start.”
“Removing your clothes would be a good first step.”
In less than ten seconds, I was stripped naked sporting an erection a midget could use for a chin up bar.
Mrs. Bancroft gave my body a quick perusal, with perhaps a slight hesitation when her eyes focused on my crotch and then, just as she instructed me, her gaze quickly returned to my face.
“Well, now that we know what we’re working with, let’s get started. When making love, you should involve as many of your senses as possible. I have already seen your magnificent body, now I want to feel your hands, lips and tongue on my skin.” She kissed me on the lips, and the chin, and the neck, and the chest.
“I want to taste your sweat,” she said as her tongue licked a path down to my belly button.
“I want to smell your musk.” She took a deep breath, which made her breasts rise so that her nipples brushed against my thighs.
“And I want to hear your voice.” She was now kneeling in front of me. Her hands on my ass. Her boobs just inches away from my cock.”
“While we explore each other’s bodies, I want you to talk to me.”
One of her hard nipples brushed against my straining cock.
“Tell me what you did yesterday -”
Her tongue wetting my tiny slit.
“- and your plans for tomorrow.”
She enveloped my cock between her boobs so that only my tip was in view.
“Tell me your dreams young prince. Tell me where you’ve been and where you want to go.”
She pressed her tits around my erection with her hands and plunged my cock deep into her valley of flesh.
“Tell me who you are so I may best continue your education.”
I did. I opened my mouth and words spewed out. And as long as I kept talking, she continued to fuck me with her boobs.
Three or four minutes was as long as my eighteen-year-old cock could last sliding between Mrs. Bancroft’s marvelous tits. When I gushed a quart of cum over her chest and chin, I was sure my lesson was over. But to my great surprise and delight, she pulled a washcloth out of nowhere, cleaned herself up and said, “tell me about your parents,” just before she took me into her mouth.
Somewhere, deep in my subconscious, a little voice was saying “don’t tell this woman – who you’ve known for less than a day – all of our family secrets.” But the odds of a teenaged boy listening to the voice of reason while receiving his first blow job are up there with those of a blizzard on the sun.
So, I might have mentioned that my parents were agents working undercover for the US Government as her tonsils tickled my tip and her tongue massaged my shaft. And when she spat my now super hardened dick out of her mouth, pushed me onto the bed and mounted me like a gymnast on a pommel, I continued my traitorous monologue. She moaned in pleasure as I listed all the places we had ever lived or visited. She told me I was better in bed than any man she had ever been with, right after I told her who my parents hung out with and where my only friend on this earth lived. No secret was sacrosanct. As long as her pussy pleasured my penis, I was a veritable Google of classified information.
In retrospect, she played me like a concert pianist, extracting every note of useful knowledge my mind contained before she finally let my body have the release it so desperately needed. And when she was done with me… after I whitewashed her womb with enough spunk to drown a small animal… she reached up, gave me a kiss on the lips and said, “clean yourself up and get dressed. We need to have a little talk with your father.”
Shit. That can’t be good. She’s going to say I raped her and then blackmail us into paying her a huge sum of money. Or maybe she’s a Russian agent and plans to force my parents into working for the other side.
Fifteen minutes later, we were both properly dressed and sitting with Dad in his den.
“How did he do?” Dad asked Mrs. Bancroft.
“Not well,” she answered. “I spent less than an hour with the boy and have enough information to get you and your wife permanent residence in a Siberian Gulag.”
“That bad?” he asked.
Mrs. Bancroft answered by detailing all the incriminating things I told her.
Dad looked over at me and I could tell I was in deep shit, but before he could say anything, Mrs. B came to my rescue.
“I wouldn’t be too hard on the lad. You did tell him that I was to be his tutor and all his previous instructors were cleared by the Company, so he naturally opened up. He reacted like we would expect of any young man of his age, and considering the interrogation technique used, I’d wager several of our experienced agents would have also cracked under the pressure… albeit not quite as quickly.”
Dad let out a heavy sigh. “I guess we have no other choice. Considering what happened tonight, is your offer still on the table?”
“It will be my pleasure,” Mrs. Bancroft said. “Despite what happened upstairs, I believe the boy has great potential. He has a sharp mind and certainly possesses the physical tools. Give me a year with him and I think you’ll be surprised with his progress.”
“Uh, Dad,” I said, interrupting the conversation. “What are you two talking about?”
“Son, I’m afraid I lied to you when I said Mrs. Bancroft hasn’t been cleared by the Company. She has actually been with the Company for several years.”
“You were testing me?”
“Consider it more of a lesson than a test,” Mrs. B said. “What you told me upstairs could have ruined your parent’s careers and, more importantly, put many people in danger if those words drifted into the wrong ears. But now that you know what can happen, you will be less likely to do it again.”
“Son, your mother and I have talked about this and think it is best for all of us. As soon as Mrs. Bancroft finds a suitable place to live, you will move in with her. She will be your mentor. Her job is to fill in the gaps of your education and prepare you for a career with the Company. Please do whatever she asks with the knowledge that she has your best interests at heart.”