The Life of John Smith Chapter 17 by John Smith 83

A literotic sexstories: The Life of John Smith Chapter 17 by John Smith 83 ,

My father returns.

Chapter 17 Is This the End?

Over the next few days things returned to normal. That is normal for us. Nearly every day after school for weeks, Andrea and I would rush to my house where we would do our side-ways 69 on my bed. She continued to enjoy swallowing my cum and I continued to drink down her pussy juice. Our weekends were split between spending most of the daytime hours with her family and the evening hours with my mother.

The end of the school year was rapidly approaching. Plans were being made for the summer and I looked forward with great anticipation to Andrea’s birthday on June 17, when she would give me her virginity. Like last year I had lined up a part-time job at the grocery store beginning at 9:30AM and ending at four in the afternoon.

Andrea’s mother, Mary, had backed off, allowing Andrea and I our alone time and not demanding that I fuck her. My mother had done the same until Memorial Day weekend. Finals were to start on Tuesday following Memorial Day; but I get ahead of myself.

Let us back up a bit. Mr. Logan, Andrea’s father, had decided that the previous year his family had spent too much time traveling so this year they were only traveling to see relatives on two three-day week-ends, one of which was Memorial Day week-end. I decided that since this would deprive me of Andrea’s company for the weekend, that I should use the time to study for finals week which was the four days following. I systematically reviewed every test that I had taken thus far especially concentrating on those questions I was not sure about. As I proceeded, I came to the realization that this year my work had not been as good as previously. I had to do well in the finals. On Sunday, before dinner, after two days of solid study and not enough sleep, I realized I was quite tense. I thumbed through what I had left to do and saw, with relief that I was nearly finished.

As usual, mother prepared an overcook beef steak, that I thought of as cremated beef, carrots, mashed potatoes and gravy. It was healthy but boring. Even so, I silently shoveled it in like most teenaged boys would. Mother asked, “How are you doing with your study?” Not wanting her to get involved, I told her I was doing fine. She came back with, “Johnny, don’t kid me. I have never seen you so intent before. All day yesterday, last night, and all day today, nothing but schoolwork. Are you worried about your grades?”

“Yes I am. I have never felt this way before,” I said as I concentrated on sopping up the last bit of gravy with the last bite of potato.

“We have desert today,” she said as she rushed to the fridge. She pulled out an apple crisp she had baked, dishing us up some she continued our conversation. “You have always come through. Don’t start doubting yourself,” she encouraged.

I took a bite of her cinnamon filled apple crisp. Savoring it I said, “I know, it is all in my head. All I have to do is draw it out, but for some reason, I have had a little trouble this year.”

A few moments of silence followed as we ate our apple crisp, then she said, “I think your trouble this year is that you have been too intent. You have to relax and let things happen.”

“No, just letting things happen has caused me to fall behind. Of course, being sick for a week didn’t help either,” I said

“Are you caught up now?” she asked.

“Almost, I think a few more hours and I will be.”

“You know what they say, ‘All work and no play will make Johnny have blue balls.'”

“I don’t think I have ever heard it said that way before.”

“It is true, isn’t it?”

“Think I’ll get back to my work.”

“I think you should relax first.”

“I think…oh hell! I give up.”

“Goody, goody. Come to bed with me now. It’s been months since we fucked.”

“It’s been less than two months since…”

“I don’t care, I want you now Johnny. I want those blue balls emptied into me. Today is a safe day so no rubber, okay?” She said as she led me toward her room.

“Fine with me,” I said as I willingly followed her.

“No foreplay this time, just pound it to me,” she said as she stripped off her clothes.

I guess I was as eager as she was because, without a thought I found myself fucking her hard like she had asked. It was only a few quick minutes and I was emptying my balls directly into her pussy. Each little sperm cell must have been excited to find that there was no rubber barrier to stop it from swimming freely into my mother’s womb. Compelled by instinct to swim on, each of the thousand of sperm cell had only one choice to make and that was, which fallopian tube to choose. Once that choice was made, the competition was on because each cell knew that only one could be successful. But none of them knew that on this day, there was no ovum to be found to fertilize.

I am sure that mother had none of these thoughts because as soon as I rolled to my back, she was up over me, licking my softening dick clean and sucking the last drops of sperm from it. Those tardy sperm that now found themselves in her mouth had no choices to make. Death would come quick, but their chemical components would be an almost perfect match for what her body needed for nourishment.

At this point, my thought processes were interrupted by the urge to feel my dick swallowed by my mother. No one did it better than her. All I had to do was push and she obliged by swallowing. At this point the head of my dick was surrounded by the strong swallowing muscles of her throat. I knew it was an effort on her part to not gag but she had a lot of practice. That skill does not come naturally, it had to be learned. I was so fortunate to have three women in my life who had that skill and were willing to use it.

Of course, my dick responded to this simulation as he always had, by growing hard. Mother raised up to say, “Now you can fuck me longer and harder. Do it till I scream for you to stop!” It was a command with the emphasis on the “Do it.” So, I did it. Very soon I was lost in the pleasure. The pleasure, as always, superseded all thought. As always, I was lost in the ecstasy that always consumes me when I am involved in a good fuck.

I was abruptly forced from my state of ecstasy wit a hard blow to my upper back. It knocked the breath from me, but before I blacked out I heard mother say, “Where the fuck did you come from, John?” My thoughts as I passed out were: She never calls me John and who hit me so hard.

As I regained consciousness, I heard a voice say, “He’s coming to, sarge.”

Sarge responded with, “Better handcuff him and for Crist sake cover him with a blanket.”

As my wrists were put in handcuffs behind my back, the pain in my back returned. Over the next few weeks I healed and pieced together what had happened. My father, the original John Smith, had returned after more that five years. He let himself in with his own key. He had found a young man fucking his wife. He had kicked him in the back, knocking him unconscious. He had then called the cops to come and arrest a rapist. Mother, being the person she was, backed up his statement that I was raping her. After all, how could she admit that what we were doing was her ides.

The result, as far as I was concerned was that I went to juvenile detention. I never had a trial. Others made that decision. Mother’s story, whatever it was, was believed. I was sent to a distant city to live with a foster family. I never saw mother, Andrea, or the Logans again. I was never allowed to communicate with them, “for my own good.”

My sister had somehow kept track of me. She came to my high school graduation, after which we had talked. She had helped me get an MBA degree and I was able to make a good living. But I was never even able to approach a woman to develop a relationship. Now after 20 years I was headed back to my childhood hometown to attend my father’s funeral. I will see mother. What will she say to me? I don’t want to say anything to her. In fact, I may just turn around and forget about attending the funeral. Or, maybe mother would want to come live with me. She is probably old and ugly, but she can still swallow a dick. After all that is what I dream of these days.

Read 25752 times |
Rated 62.9 % |
(321 votes)

Please rate this text:


Leave a Comment