The Process of Illumination

The morning's earliest light crept halfway up the wall in the warm guest bedroom. It was too bright. He would wake. Closing down the blinds to leave in just enough light, I turned around. Laying full out on his back, young Ben slept. "God, could he BE any sexier?" I rolled my eyes at the sight of his half-exposed body. Slimmed down, muscled-up, strong shouldered, with those tight abs, the hunk was naked down to where the bedding covered his lower half.

Undoing the front of my robe, I let my hands imagine his broad hands caressing my body. Biting the side of my upper lip, I allowed his hands (my hands) to wander over the warm softness of my torso. Grasping my boobs, did my dampened squeal of delight stir him? Pulling the white robe farther back and down my shoulders to rest in the crux of my arms, I dared not go further. Stirring and turning in his slumber, Ben's covers inched down to just above his pelvis. My short labored breaths bordered on panting, as my greedy eyes needed to see more. That sensual, naughty part of my being shamed the pristine clarity of that holy dawn. I could hold back no longer. Edging my nervous fingers across my hips, one hand pampered and soothed my mons, while other fingers caressed the inner lips of my pussy. "This wouldn't take long," I bargained with myself for extra time to savor the taboo. With two fingers rubbing my clit, I tore my other hand away. Taking the quietest of steps forward, I leaned to uncover my unsuspicious guest. Gently lifting the covers, I immediately lost whatever voyeur status I had. That's when the cobra struck.

With the speed and accuracy of best slight-of-hand artist, Ben's hand caught my wrist. Holding on tight, his eyes slowly opened. "SHIT!" I half-yelled, and desperately tried to pull away, with no effect. Tightening his grip, he scooted back against the headboard.

"Well now, isn't this a pleasant surprise," Ben said smiling, while my other hand did its best to cover up. "Could this be the guardian angel I was just dreaming of?" he yawned, but held fast.

"I'm not feeling very angelic, Ben. Please let go," I implored him, feeling lower than low for attempting such an unforgivable indiscretion.

"Not angelic huh, perhaps a little devil made you do it?" Ben quipped. Letting go of my wrist, he watched as I quickly covered myself and cinched up. Shaking my head in humiliation, I headed for the door. "There is one thing that concerns me. Maybe you could explain something for me?" Ben asked, stopping me in my tracks.

"Okay, okay, what is it?" I figured I owed him something for treading on his private territory.

"Come back here, where I can see you. I promise, I won't bite," his eyes sparkling.

"Okay," I replied and calmed down enough to cut the distance between us in half.

"It kinda concerns that thing with Christy..." he stated, then pulled down the covers to reveal himself. "Actually, this thing," he said, as he slowly stroked his ten-inch erection.

"W-what seems to be the problem?" I tried unsuccessfully not to stare.

"I just always figured it would be different – fucking, you know?"

"How's that? I mean, I saw you screwing the bitch," I declared and felt my pussy spasm.

"Her, her hole, vagina – whatever was... I mean I was too small for her, I guess," Ben's eyebrows furrowed with a deep concern, as the rhythmic stroking continued.

Here I am gazing at his utterly delicious cock, and trying to concentrate on his apparent dilemma. The distraction was unbearable. Unclenching my grip on the collar of my robe, I let my hands fall to my sides.

"Ben, would you please stop that?" I took a deep breath to relax.

"Why, isn't that what you came to see?" He teased, jacking his perfect tool faster.

Not really wanting him to stop, I endeavored to refocus on his question. Resting my hands on hips, the cinch job on my robe became loose. "All women are different, when it comes to size and stuff," I lamely remarked, lightly spreading the terrycloth fabric of my robe.

"And stuff, AGAIN! Can't women ever be specific?" Ben asked, slowing down his strokes to long, tight twists.

"That's REALLY throwing me off," I sighed, and gripped more fabric. Now only the slightest amount of the fabric's elasticity kept my robe from opening.

"I wasn't hoping to throw you off," he winked.

"Ben, here's the deal. Christy is used goods. She's been around the block, down the highway, and likely across the state, if you catch my meaning. She's probably stretched out a bit," I smiled.

"Oh, I see. But, what about the "stuff" part?" He asked, pumping a thin coat of precum over one of the most perfectly formed and circumcised heads I've ever seen.

"Oh God," I shuddered and felt my robe come apart. Reaching for relief, my hand went to my pussy. Fingering myself, my other hand roughly massaged an exposed melon. "The stuff part is the intangible delights that come from the tangibles, well at least for me," I explained, while his pole seemed to grow bigger.

"So, other women, say yourself, might be okay with this."

"Oh GOD YES!" I confirmed, as I rubbed and fingered myself to the crest of an orgasm. "Tighter Ben – that's how it would feel inside me. Tighter Baby!" I urged, feeling my legs going limp.

The stud gripped his cock firmly. Using precum for lubrication, he began jacking harder and faster. "Damn Barb! That would be SO good!"

"It IS! It IS... GOOD! Feel your big cock inside me now. Come with me Baby!" I yelled. My dam broke at that point, imagining his thick manhood filling me up. Deeply fingering my pussy and rubbing my clit, I watched his eyes roll back and tightly shut. His mouth opened. His back arched and heels dug into the mattress, while his young pulsating cock exploded a long stream of white cum.

"OH GOD Barb, you feel so fucking good!" He got out, before a jolt sent him to another climax. This time, gobs of sperm poured out and soaked his tight fist. Pumping and jacking his noisy, sloppy cock, out burst yet another small load. It was all I could do to refrain from jumping on him to savor that sweet reserve of warm cum. The look of shear lust, intense desire, and satisfaction on his face was remarkable. I can't recall ever giving a man as much pleasure without touching him.

The fragile silence that followed was thick with our mutual desire to somehow complete a shared masturbation. I literally had to pull myself from the magnetic urge to have him hold me. Kisses and sweet caresses would only make things worse. Simply sharing such intimate desires, even miles apart, was so wrong – so naughty – so sweet. The affection and yearning in his eyes had to be enough.

****************

Hostess With the Mostest

Thanksgiving hardly registered on the holiday scale this year. Dinner with Donny and the kids at a posh restaurant, and that was it. It wasn't until the following weekend, that hubby discussed plans for our annual holiday bash.

The party is one event we both look forward to every year. It allows Donny to splurge and put on a good show for the local construction firms. Since his drywall business relies heavily on their recommendations, it is imperative that everything be top notch and sparkle.

I particularly liked the parties for two reasons: one, we got to have all the food catered; and two, hubby always had me dress to impress. For me, it was like being queen for a day. Considering the guests would be mostly men, Donny notoriously had me dress "festively." I was generally cool with this, since it meant I'd get plenty of added attention. This year would be no exception, he said.

"Here, see what ya think of this Babe," he smiled, handing me a large rectangular box tied in velvet ribbon.

"A new party dress for me? How sweet!" I eagerly tore into the wrapping. "My God it's RED!" I exclaimed pulling the floor-length gown from the box.

Not fire engine red, not candy-apple red, this dress was Santa Claus, deep scarlet red. Holding the strapless garment up for size, the pure white boa-type fringe collar made the dress resemble a giant, curvy red candy stick with icing. The back featured a deep v-cut, essentially ending where my asscrack begins. Trying to visualize what to wear under it, I was pleasantly surprised to see it had built-in cups.

"You haven't noticed the main attraction, well maybe the second main attraction," Donny added, pointing to a long revealing slit strategically located dead center in the gown.

"Hmm, how convenient," I laughed.

"I'm sure you'll be outstanding in it," Donny winked, trying to picture me squeezed into such an illuminating outfit.

After a few closed-door fittings, judging from ample amount of skin showing, my husband was correct. I would definitely be the 'Hostess with the Mostest' in this creation. The sturdy wired support cups (one size too small) made my double-d's jut out like a melon vendor's pushcart. Thank goodness for the white fringe, which buffered that effect somewhat. Dressed in my tallest pumps, the slit ran from the hem to my upper thigh. Depending on how I stood or walked, the slit would open to show a little or a lot of leg. Since I know hubby prefers me in thigh-highs instead of pantyhose, I was concerned whether the netting would show or not. Not wishing to come off like a complete slut, I was happy to find a pair that offered just enough coverage.

The big Saturday arrived a few weeks later. The food, Christmas decorations, and refreshments all went off without a hitch. All I had to do was make sure I made a favorable impression. Guests started arriving before I was absolutely ready to receive them. Re-fixing my ash blonde hairdo one final time, I scrambled out of our bedroom only to bump into Ben in the hallway. The boy hadn't seen me dressed and was instantly stunned and captivated.

"WOW, don't you look... appealing." He settled on a proper adjective, while his leering gaze never strayed from my opulent melon basket.

"It's not too over the top, is it Ben?" I fretted. Backing away from me, Ben took in the whole ensemble. Silently scanning all of me, I could see he was torn trying to make a practical assessment. Then his hand moved to shift his expanding package. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," I smiled. He returned my smile, just as the doorbell rang again. "I DO apologize kind sir, I must prepare to greet our honored guests," feigning Scarlett O'Hara.

"Oh wait, I know what I needed to ask you..." Ben suddenly snapped back to reality.

"What's that?"

"I've got a paper due for school and my PC just took a major dump. Can I possibly borrow your laptop?" He asked.

"Sure, it's on the desk in our bedroom. Just remember to come down and join in the festivities, okay?" I said, scampering off the best I could in elevated heels. Since my stories are password-protected, I had little fear that he would discover anything juicy on my laptop PC.

I lost track of Ben after that, as a growing crowd of men and a smattering of wives arrived. Being surrounded by a bunch of well-dressed, burly, booze-guzzlers pretending to be gentlemen does have its perks. The fact that most of the middle-aged droolers had but one thing on their wicked minds didn't bother me in the slightest. A woman, at any age, loves basking in the glow of testosterone energy.

The champagne flowed freely. Donny's jokes were funny. The food was delicious. The flat-chested wives that opted to attend were all underdressed, which only allowed me to garner more attention from their spouses. Basically, everything was right with the world.

The party had been underway for a couple of hours, when Donny stopped me in the kitchen. "Honey, would you check on Ben. I sent him to the basement for more champagne quite some time ago," my husband interjected between sharing another off-color joke with his cronies.

"No problem, I'll be right back," I agreed and turned the corner to attempt the basement stairs in high heels.

The lower level of our house is mostly open, with one unfinished section set aside as a wine cellar. In case the party overflowed, we decorated the still vacant open area. "Ben, are you down here?" I yelled, then caught sight of him facing away from me in the cellar. "What's up? Can't you find the champagne?"

"Y-yeah it's right here. I was just about to..." he hesitated, as I approached.

"So, is there a problem?" I wondered, since he had yet to turn and face me.

"W-well kind of, yes. You see I can't seem to fix this," he said, turning around. Watching his eyes lower, I spied his problem. With his zipper down, he had a raging hardon proudly on display. Judging from the pool of cum at his feet, I'd say he had relieved himself more than a few times.

"BEN! What the hell is going on?" I screeched, putting my hands on my hips, and looking like an outraged – but extremely sexy – Mrs. Claus.

"I-I can't seem to make it stop," the boy admitted, reaching to continue his endless masturbation. The sight of his reddened cock still leaking from his last climax was entirely unexpected. I would have been completely embarrassed, if it weren't for that perfectly shaped cockhead. Instead, I let him proceed with the twisted act.

"But how... why now?" I begged for some sort of logical explanation.

"Seeing you in that dress, then I stumbled on something," he caught himself.

"Stumbled on what?"

Seeing I wouldn't settle for vague expressions, he took a deep breath and spilled everything. "I started working on my school paper and stumbled on a file called The Process, and I'm pretty sure you wrote it. I KNOW you did!"

Although all my final stories are protected, I generally leave my working journals without passwords. Obviously he read my draft. Now it was me turning an embarrassing shade of crimson. My Pandora's box of x-rated feelings for the lad had been opened.

"SHIT! I wish you hadn't found that," I replied harshly. "Those are very private things. You had no right!" I became more incensed, the more I recalled how sordid many of my writings were.

"I'm SO SORRY Barb. I really am, but..."

"But WHAT?" I grew more pissed off by the second.

"Reading your words made me realize how much I wish you knew what's been eating away inside of me," he said, jacking his bruised erection even harder. "How you, how WE couldn't touch each other, and how we can't do a damn thing about it. It drives me crazy. YOU drive me crazy!"

"That's beside the point, Ben. You had no right."

"I have no right to want every part of you? I have no right to want to throw you down right now and fuck you forever?" His eyes burned, as his cock-stroking became a blur.

When he took steps toward me a fear swept through me. I'd never seen such a lust-filled intensity from him. Stumbling backwards, I tried catching myself on the wine racks. My precarious hold on the shelves left me unbalanced. Ben reached out with his free hand for my shoulder. I don't know if he was reaching to help me, or push me down. Either way, I ended up on my knees, practically ripping my gown. I pushed back to return to my feet. That's when I was greeted with his cock inches from my face.

"NO! No!" I pushed against his pelvis. That strong free hand of his slid behind my head. It may not have been the most opportune time to indulge our fantasies, considering my state-of-mind and circumstance. However, one can not always pick just the right moment. At least that was my last contemplation, before opening my mouth to accept his ready weapon.

His pre-lubed manhood easily filled my mouth, as I reached to replace his hand with mine. Gripping his thickness, I heard him utter a wonderful sigh, like he'd just conquered Mt. Everest. Being this was his cock's maiden voyage into a female mouth, I definitely wanted to leave him the sweetest of memories. His deep moans and groans told me I was on the right track.

Bobbing my head back and forth, I felt more pressure on my head. Quickly ripping his ten-inch rod from my mouth, I forewarned him, "Let me do this my way Darlin'; next time we'll do it your way." I looked up and gave him a devilish, all-knowing grin. He nodded and let go of my head.

After running my tongue in rapid circles around his perfect cockhead, I opened up and consumed it. Inching more of his young beast into my throat, I tripped my gag reflex and forced more and more of it inside. Grasping his ass with both hands for leverage, I totally deep-throated his incredible love muscle. This sent him floundering in a sea of super charged emotions. His deep, sweet masculine groans of ultimate pleasure mixed with my feminine pleas for more.

"Yeah Baby, let me have your hot cum. C'mon now, fill me up," I urged, jacking and sucking his rock-hard dick.

"Oh Jesus, I can't... can't HOLD it!" Ben yelled, as I clamped my teeth just behind his large, finely chiseled circumcised head. Throbbing with an unconscious primal desire, his thickness grew slightly larger. "OH GOD!" The inevitable release. Like a loaded 45, his young spunk shot clear to the back of my throat in one long stream. Full-throttled pulses followed, pumping more starchy gravy into my mouth, until I could hardly keep up. Trying to grip the base of his rod, to sustain and heighten his pleasure, was out of the question. This first go around had to be a quickie. Intuition told me tasting this young man's syrup wouldn't be limited to a singular event.

Savoring his sweet virginal juices, I got to my feet. "GOD, I've never felt anything like that EVER!" He exclaimed, reaching over to rest his hand in my cleavage.

"I'll take that as a Thank You," I smiled, but smoothly pulled his hand away. "We don't have time for this now. Guests and everything. Grab a few bottles here," I advised. Taking a couple of bottles of champagne myself, I turned and headed back to the stairway. Sensing we'd been downstairs for a while, I quickened my pace up the steps. I assumed Ben was directly behind me.

"What a fun, yummy taste, but I'd better rinse my mouth," I thought, as I deposited the unopened bottles and walked down the hall toward the guest bathroom. As I reached for the door knob a hand gripped my wrist from nowhere.

"In a big hurry there little lady," a tinny male voice said.

"Kip! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," I answered, pulling my hand from the knob.

Kip Sinclair, Bob's son is the heir-apparent to Sinclair Construction, and a generously spoiled fuckup. Just the touch of the nerdy little weasel made me queasy.

"Having a good time?" I asked, still trying to figure why he was still holding on.

"Not bad, but I expect to have an even better time now," he piped up, with a trebly voice reminiscent of an ex-gymnast.

I finally twisted my wrist from his grasp. "Oh, and why is that?" I wondered. Actually I couldn't care less what kind of time he had. Donny was more into placating his father. Kip was no more than a squeaky wheel his father had to grease, so his wife wouldn't bitch.

"After what I just saw, I think you and I should have a great time," the weasel smirked. Staring him straight in the eyes, it was evident that Ben and I had an unexpected audience. Scanning the hallway and ceiling for a clever, calculated response, I was at a loss. "I mean, unless you're okay with all your guests knowing you're into screwing the help?" Kip threatened.

"Shit! Come here you," I said, quickly opening the bathroom door, and pushing him in. The 35-year-old loser reassembled from my push and assumed his perception of a power stance, while I checked my makeup in the mirror.

There was no way I would let this little creep upset my husband's party. Moreover, a scandal, even reported from such a weasel, would be extremely detrimental to hubby's chances at winning any future contracts. The infidelity issue was something I could explain to Donny, but the repercussions from something like this could wipe us out.