The Seed of Onan

I was a typical over-sexed boy. It was the 50's and young people didn't engage in sexual activities like they do today. At least I didn't. I was kind of nerdy, wore glasses, a bookworm, excelled in the classroom but not on the athletic field. I also masturbated a lot.

I was dating the only girl I ever really dated in school and she was as sexually naive as I was plus she had some other sexual hang ups which I didn't discover until we eventually married. But that's another story.

It was not a typical weekday afternoon. Not typical in the sense that my parents were both out of town and I was alone in my house. My dad had gone to a labor union convention and my mother went with him. It was one of the few times that they left me alone - but not without some adult supervision as I was soon to discover.

Late afternoon, home from school, house to myself, I did what many teen-age boys are prone to do. I turned the radio on to a Top 40 station and turned up the volume. I pulled one of my older brother's girlie magazines out from it's hiding place, took off all my clothes and lay down on my bed. Soon I was immersed in the pictures of ladies with big tits, fantasizing and jacking off with carefree abandon.

Bill Haley and the Comets were wailing away with Rock Around The Clock and I was so absorbed in my self-gratification that I didn't hear the front door open. I was stroking and looking at boobs and just about to shoot when I heard a stern female voice from my bedroom door.

"Young man, what are you doing?

I abruptly stopped my stroking, turned my head toward the door and saw the forbidding presence of Mrs. Packer, the devout holy roller who lived next door.

I gasped and said, "How did you get in here?"

"Your mother gave me a key and asked me to look in from time to time to see if you were behaving yourself. She thought you might get into your father's liquor cabinet or engage in some other un-Christian activities. I can see that you are. What you are doing is a sin."

My facial expression quickly changed to one of amazement and I put both hands over my crotch to try to cover myself.

She looked at me sternly and said, "And Onan knew that the seed should not be his; and it came to pass, when he went in unto his brother's wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest that he should give seed to his brother. Genesis, Chapter 38, verse 9," she said.

I gulped and didn't say anything.

"You're about to spill your seed, aren't you?"

I still didn't know what to say. I noticed that her gaze had fallen from my face to my crotch which I was still trying my best to conceal.

"You're a naughty boy. Just like all boys. I really thought better of you."

"Gosh, Mrs. Packer," I stammered. "I don't know what to say?"

"Actions speak louder than words," she said and walked over toward my bed. She was rather tall and matronly with grey hair and an ample body which she usually covered with rather plain looking, loose-fitting dresses which I believe she made herself. She looked intently at my barely covered genitals.

"I see you haven't spilled your seed yet."

"Nuh, nuh, no," I stuttered.

"That's a good boy," she said, "Because if you had I would have to clean you up. That's in the bible too, you know."

"No, I didn't know that."

"And if any man's seed of copulation go out from him, then he shall wash all his flesh in water, and be unclean until the even. And every garment, and every skin, whereon is the seed of copulation, shall be washed with water, and be unclean until the even," she continued. "That's from Leviticus."

"Gosh, I didn't know that was in the bible."

"It is," she said. "Have you washed yourself since the last time you spilled your seed?"

"Uh, no."

"Then I suppose I have to clean you up."

"Well I can do it myself."

"Oh no," she said. "I'll do it to make sure it's done right." With that she turned and walked into the bathroom. I could hear her bustling about and the sound of running water. She came back into my bedroom carrying a towel, a wet wash cloth and a bar of soap. She sat down on the bed.

"Move your hands away from that nasty thing," she said, sternly.

I pulled my hands away and she looked intently at my cock which by now had fallen flaccid. She rubbed the bar of soap on the wet wash cloth until she'd worked up a fair amount of suds and then she reached out with her left hand and, grasping my cock by the circumsized head, pulled it up. With her right hand she began to scrub it, rather vigorously. She hummed to herself contentedly while she worked - it sounded like Rock of Ages. She leaned closer to my cock and a glob of soapy water splashed on her dress.

"Oh, pooh," she said. "You're going to make me ruin this dress. You naughty boy." With that she stood up and took it off, folding it neatly and placing it on a chair. She was wearing a white bra and white panties, made of cotton and appropriately proper. She had large breasts which hung heavily in her bra. Her waist and hips were ample but with enough difference in circumference to give her a nice womanly curve. She had nice legs.

"Don't stare at me," she said, "And stop thinking those lustful thoughts."

"Gosh, Mrs. Packer, I'm not thinking lustful thoughts," I said.

"I know better, young man, your eyes betray what your tongue denies and I can see what you are thinking." She looked intently once again at my cock which was once again fully erect although still covered with soap suds.

"I can see that you still require cleansing," she said and resumed rubbing my cock with the soapy wash rag. My cock got even harder and she stared at it intently and her facial expression seemed to change from a look of disapproval to a look of lust.

I tentatively reached up and lightly touched her on her shoulder. She didn't finch or move away and continued her scrubbing. I slowly began to rub my hand from her shoulder to her neck and than slightly down her back. She sighed and began humming a different tune. It sounded like He's Got The Whole World In His Hands.

Sensing no resistance I dropped my hand and touched the back of her bra.

"Stop that," she said. "I don't want you soiling my under garments."

Saying that she put both hands behind her and unhooked her bra, letting it fall away from her. Her breasts were large with pale pink aureolas and I noticed that her nipples were hard.

"May I, can I, touch you?" I stammered.

She didn't reply so I slowly moved my fingers around and touched her left breast, stroking it down the slope of until I lightly touched her erect nipple.

"You are so naughty," she said, but she didn't move my hand away. She laid the wash cloth on the towel and began to stroke my cock with her bare hand. Between her hand on my cock and my hand on her nipple I was in heaven. I began to hum the tune Blessed Redeemer.

"I see you are not totally a heathen," she said.

"No, ma'am," I replied. "Uh, I'm about to, to, cum."

"Don't use nasty words with me, boy and don't spill that sacred seed on the ground."

With that she moved her hand away from my soapy cock and walked back into the bathroom, carrying the wash cloth. I heard water running and she returned with the wash cloth in her hand. She had rinsed out all the soap. She took the wet wash cloth and rinsed away the soap. Then she took the towel and lovingly dried my penis. My cock was, by now, incredibly hard.

"Uh, what about my seed," I asked.

She looked at me sternly and said, "We must provide a suitable vessel."

And then she dropped the towel and slowly began to remove her panties. She turned toward me and pointing her fingers down toward her hairy pussy she said, "This, young man, is a suitable vessel."

"Can I touch your, uh, vessel?"

"Well, I suppose so, but just a little bit."

She moved closer to the bed and I reached out and ran my fingers through her verdant bush.

"Can I touch you uh, there?"

"If you must."

I moved my hand lower and reached out a finger and began to slowly move it up and down her fleshy pussy lips. She was wet and soon her pearly gates opened to accept my exploring digit.

"I've never touched a woman's uh, vessel," I said.

"Well I hope you don't make a habit of it," she said, sternly.

"Yes ma'am."

She moved closer to me and resumed stroking my cock and I began to finger her pussy faster.

"Move it up," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Move your finger up."

I started to insert it into her vessel and she said, "Not that way. This way" and she reached down and moved my finger to the top of her uh vessel. I discovered a slight protrusion, rather like a nipple, only much smaller.

"Rub me there, boy. Rub me good."

I obliged. She began to move her hips and I could smell a different odor coming from her. It was musky and earthy and unlike anything I had ever smelled before. I inhaled it deeply and she said, "Smell that, boy? That means my vessel is ready to receive your seed."

She moved on to the bed, straddling my legs and positioning herself so her pussy was directly above my proudly standing cock. I reached out to touch her and she pushed my hand away.

"Keep your naughty hands to yourself."

Moving her body lower she grabbed my cock and slowly rubbed it up and down her pussy. Between her juices and my pre-cum we were both wet and ready. Slowly she lowered herself onto my cock. It slid easily into her and I gasped at my first experience with my cock in a woman's vagina.

"Do you like my vessel," she asked, moving up and down.

"Oh, God, Mrs. Packer, I love your vessel."

"Don't be blasphemous boy. Don't take the name of the Lord in vain."

"Yes ma'am."

She moved more quickly, riding my young cock like an experienced horseman rides a young colt. She began to hum The Old Rugged Cross.

"I'm going to, to, spill my seed," I gasped.

"You won't be spilling it, boy. My vessel will hold it all."

I began to thrust my hips up in rhythm with her downs and she said, "Give me your seed boy, fill my vessel."

With one final surge I began to cum, shooting what must have been a record amount of semen up into her.

"That's it...that's it....that's a good boy. Give me all of your seed"

I groaned and stopped my thrusting and just laid there with a contented smile on my face.

"How can I thank you," I asked.

"You can read your bible and pray and stop thinking all those lustful thoughts."

"I'll try," I said.

"And if you do have lustful thoughts and absolutely need to spread your seed just remember to use the proper vessel."

'You mean?"

"You're reasonably intelligent, for a boy. I believe you can figure it out."