The Widow Parsons

His dick just seemed to keep squirting and spitting, and he was so terribly pleased for that. He felt he must be making a very good impression on Mrs. Parsons. It certainly did make him feel pretty darned good.

When he was finally done Mrs. Parsons helped Christopher clean up. It was the neighborly thing to do. Certainly Mrs. Hansun, his mother, wouldn't want her son to come home all wet and stained with gism.

As she did so, she considerately suggested, "Christopher, in the future, whenever you get an overwhelming urge, you can come over to my home. You can masturbate here. I have a guest room, if you wish some privacy. Or, well..." she realized he probably wouldn't want to use the guest room, as it was rather sterile in its appearance. "If you wish, you can use my bedroom." He would probably prefer that.

Chris was at a loss for words. It was already bizarre enough that Mrs. Parsons was dabbing his penis with a moistened wash cloth, squeezing out the last couple of drops of gism. He wasn't expecting to be invited over to her home to masturbate.

Betty noticed Christopher's awkward silence. Perhaps she had not provided sufficient explanation. "I just feel, well, Christopher, that if you are finding it difficult to masturbate at home, in your parents' house, I mean, well, to the point that you feel the need to peek into women's windows, well, I just want you to know that you are welcome to relieve yourself here. And, well, I imagine your mother will appreciate that you're not doing it at home, you know, messing up her sheets or something." Betty wasn't at all sure whether he was in fact making any sort of mess at home, but she figured that it must be at least some problem for him. She imagined him squirting his load onto the sheets or into some sock that his mother would have to clean.

Her explanation, however, wasn't making Chris feel any more comfortable. On the contrary, Mrs. Parsons was only making him feel awkward and self-conscious about his jerking off, which wasn't really that hard to do. What boy isn't at least a bit insecure about his masturbation, and few talked about it with a neighbor woman, as old as his mother, and even fewer discussed relieving themselves in her home, like he was lancing a wound or needing to use the bathroom.

"Of course," Betty added, "I will respect your privacy but, well, if I can be of any assistance...well," she added, turning away as she laid the wash cloth across the arm of a chair, feeling a little self-conscious as well. She knew that this was a bit of a risky offer. What if he declined? What if he just quickly, nervously left her house, feeling all ashamed over what just happened, to go home and tell his mother what she suggested? That seemed rather unlikely to Betty, but one never knew for certain. Clearly Christopher was rather insecure about his sexuality.

She further suggested, "If you like, I can speak to your mother first about it, to confirm that this would be fine with her."

"No!" Chris quickly asserted. That would most definitely be the last thing he would want Mrs. Parsons to do. But, he also realized that he might have expressed himself with too much obvious concern and alarm. "I mean, um, well, I'm sure it will be fine with her." That sounded kind of weird, and certainly hard to believe. "I mean, um, that, well, it's kind of something I don't really feel that comfortable talking with her about."

Betty smiled reassuringly, and with considerable relief. She had not been serious when she offered to speak to his mother. She wasn't any more interested than Christopher in having Mrs. Hansun know of her offer. She was just feeling out whether he would likely speak to his mother about it. "Well, certainly, Christopher," she replied, as she helped him zip up his pants. "If you wish we don't need to burden her."

Once she had his zipper up, pants buttoned, and belt buckle hooked, she added, "You just give the idea some thought. I'll be here, just across your backyard." She gave him a little pat on his bottom to send him on his way.

"Sure, sure, Mrs. Parsons," Chris replied. He was terribly relieved that she agreed not to tell his mother, but now that his orgasm, his lust, had dissipated, he was feeling rather uncertain, if not a bit guilty. Was he taking advantage of a widow? Most definitely his parents would not approve. Of course, parents disapprove of many things their sons will do. Nevertheless, he wasn't entirely sure that they were wrong about this. He felt a strong need to extricate himself from the situation, return home, and think it through. "Yeah, sure, I'll think about it."

Betty watched as the young man hurriedly left her bedroom, and made his way quickly to her back door.

She turned out the bedroom light and peeked out the window to watch him dash across her backyard, sighing deeply with pleasure, and disappointment. It had been a very nice day, and evening. But, given the haste with which he was returning home, she did not expect him to return any time soon.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Betty, however, did not appreciate the strength, the urgency, of a young man's desire. Many a boy Christopher's age felt guilty about a particular sexual act, once it was completed, once the lecherous urges had been relieved. Such young men might even vow at that point to never do such a thing again.

But, it wasn't too long before Christopher's balls were stirring once again, when the desires, the urgent drive, the fantasies, returned, perhaps even now more intensely, given the pleasure that the previous act had provided, no matter how shameful and disgraceful it had been. In fact, perhaps the wickedness of the act was what made it all the more alluring and enticing.

Chris though did not return to Mrs. Parsons' house the very next evening, despite feeling a very strong urge to do so. It wasn't easy for any young man to simply approach a neighbor's house, knock on the door, and ask if he could come inside to masturbate, even if he had been invited to do so.

Christopher even wondered if Mrs. Parsons had been joking. Perhaps she had been teasing him. He turned over and over in his mind precisely what she had said, and there had being nothing in the manner or content of her words to suggest that she wasn't entirely serious. But, can a young man trust his memory when it came to a woman, a woman as attractive and luscious as Mrs. Parsons, discussing sex?

Chris didn't even come over the second night, although he had decided while at classes that day that he would. But, the problem was that he couldn't. His parents were having guests, and they wanted their son to be home to help socialize and entertain.

Chris wondered if perhaps he should call Mrs. Parsons and explain, but that itself seemed rather weird: calling up a neighbor to explain why he wasn't coming over to masturbate that evening. And, well, besides, maybe it was good to not appear too urgent, too needy, albeit he surely felt that way. It was a struggle all evening suppressing his erections as he helped to serve appetizers, fill drinks, and make small talk with his parents' friends, a couple of whom were rather striking women themselves. He could only help but wonder if they would be interested in having him over to their houses to masturbate.

By the third night he couldn't wait to cross over.

He took a shower, put on a new pair of fresh underwear, and told his parents he was going to the library.

They were very glad to hear that.

Christopher borrowed his father's car, parked it about two blocks away, and made his way back to Mrs. Parsons' house, his cock becoming harder with each step. By the time he reached her home he was fully erect. He realized he probably should have worn briefs, but boxers just seemed more mature.

As he approached her front door he was though stricken with doubts. What if she just started laughing? He should have at least let her know that he was coming over. Goodness, a boy doesn't just show up at a girl's house without any warning to take her out on a date. It would seem that the same courtesy should apply if he was coming over to jerk off! Heck, though, she might not even be home. But, in fact, a part of him would be relieved if that was in fact true. He could just go to a movie.

Just before he rang the bell he realized that perhaps he should use her backdoor, so that none of her neighbors would notice him.

He considering making his way around to her backyard, but then realized that his parents might see him. Now, that would be a very big mistake.

He rang the bell, his heart beating anxiously, his cock straining with excitement.

Betty wondered who might be at the front door, this time of night. She wasn't expecting anyone.

She smiled with delight when she opened the door to see Christopher standing there, nervously shuffling his feet, his cheeks blushing in the light of her porch. She was reminded of when he stopped by once as a young boy, timidly selling flower seeds for some company he found on the back of a comic book. "Christopher! How nice to see you," she exclaimed, with considerable enthusiasm. She glanced about behind him, checking to see if he was being noticed by a nosy neighbor.

"Hello, Mrs. Parsons. I hope you're feeling fine today." His formality was as stiff as his cock. "I came by...well, um..." He could not quite get himself to acknowledge, out loud, the obvious purpose of his visit.

"I am doing very well, thank you, Christopher. Please, though, do come in." She stepped aside and waved him in, not wanting him to dawdle on the porch too long.

Chris quickly made his way inside, his hands clasped at his crotch, trying to hide his evident erection. "Uh, yeah, yes, um, thank you, Mrs. Parsons."

"What, pray tell, Christopher," Betty asked, as she closed the door behind him, "brings you to my home this late at night? Are you feeling a little frisky?"

"What?" Chris' cheeks reddened further. He certainly was, but that wasn't quite the way he usually put it. He was at least glad that he didn't have to broach the topic.

Betty reached out and pulled the young man's hands away from his crotch. "Oh my yes," she observed. "We're really very excited tonight, aren't we."

"Uh, yes, ma'am," Chris acknowledged, his eyes wide with confusion and agitation, his dick yearning and twitching.

Mrs. Parsons was wearing a pink cardigan sweater that clung tightly to her big round boobs, much to Chris' pleasure, and the scent of her perfume was so strong, so intoxicating.

"My, my, my. Did you walk away all the over here with your pants sticking out like this?"

"Sort of," Chris quietly and vaguely explained.

"Well, we'll just have to take care of this right away," she replied, as if she was some sort of doctor or nurse. "A boy can't be walking around with a boner sticking out his pants now, can he?"

Well, that sounded a bit flaky, Chris felt, but she could describe it any way she wanted if she was going to take care of him.

Betty quickly undid Christopher's belt and unbuttoned his slacks, but then realized that she probably should have first asked for his preference. "Oh! Um, I guess I was sort of getting ahead of myself. Would you like some privacy, Christopher? Perhaps use the bathroom, or my bedroom?"

"No, no," he quickly reassured her. "This is fine. This is okay." It was more than just okay.

She smiled in response and got down on her knees in front of the boy. "Well, I'm glad. I do like being able to help you and," she explained, as she pulled down his zipper, "I wouldn't want you to feel as if you had to hide in some room by yourself while you took care of it."

"No, ma'am," Chris replied. He wondered if he would be able to control himself. He felt so hard, so stiff, so excited, that he would not be surprised if he just ejaculated into his underwear. He had lasted a good while the last time in large part because he was initially so nervous about what might happen, and had ejaculated earlier that same day. Now he knew pretty much what was going to happen, and it had been about three days since his last one.

"Now," Betty suggested, "let's get these pants off. You don't want to squirt any of your stuff on them, do you?"

"No, ma'am," he again agreed.

Betty pulled his slacks down to his ankles, and helped the young man step out of them. His hands naturally returned to his crotch.

When his feet were free she carefully folded up the pants and laid them off to the side, and then turned her attention to his underwear.

"Oh my, Christopher! These are very wonderful boxers! Did you pick these out yourself?"

He had indeed. He liked all the baseball bats. He wasn't a particularly good baseball player himself, but he felt that they made him look athletic. He figured jocks wore boxers like these.

"Now, come on," she admonished, "take away your hands so I can see your own big bad bat."

Chris did as she instructed, with both reluctance and an equally intense desire, his cock thrusting out his boxers, the curves of his knob clearly, distinctly outlined.

"Goodness, Christopher, I forgot how big it is."

Chris didn't know what to do with his hands. He had an intense desire to start jerking off, or perhaps just leaning down and clutching Mrs. Parsons' boobs through her sweater. They looked so deliciously big and round. They bulged out her sweater almost as much as his knob did his cotton boxers. He wished now that he had jerked off before he came over, as he sorely doubted that he was going to last very long at all.

"Well, we will just have to get a closer look at him, won't we." Betty hooked her fingers into the waistband of Christopher's boxers and quickly pulled them down.

His swollen knob momentarily caught in the waistband, but with a quick, sudden jerk she tore the boxers free and Chris' cock sprang free, bobbing like a dangerously imbalanced and loose heavy crane.

Betty let the young man's boxers lie tangled around his ankles. She didn't want to waste any more time before she wrapped her right hand around the shaft while she used the fingers of her left to softly, gently, caress and tickle the intensely sensitive knob.

Chris silently exclaimed 'fuck!' as he felt Mrs. Parsons stroking the shaft with one hand and tickling the crown with the other. "Ma'am," he more clearly gasped, and rested his hands against the wall behind her, doing his best to steady his weak trembling legs.

"You have such a beautiful penis, Christopher," Betty softly cooed as she gently, slowly slid her fist up and down, admiring how intensely red the knob became as her first moved forward, and how it twitched and jerked with the tickling of her fingers. "So manly, so strong, so powerful."

Chris was breathing heavily, trying to control himself, trying to think of something else, but his eyes were fixed on the fingers of Mrs. Parsons, working his cock, just above her jutting boobs.

Betty got up higher on her knees so that the shaft pointed at her full round breasts, thrusting out the soft pink cardigan. "Oh, I would so enjoy feeling your cum splashing against my breasts." She looked up at him with her pretty brown eyes. She demurely asked, "Would you do that for me some time, Christopher? Would you squirt your cum all over my big womanly bosoms?"

"Mrs. Parsons," Chris suddenly gasped, his worst fear realized as he felt it suddenly jerk and that intense surge exploded up through his loins.

"Oh my," Betty exclaimed, as she felt the boy's dick shift and then splat a big glob of cum onto her left boob, the thick viscous boy stuff splashing across her round curves, staining and soiling her nice soft sweater.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Parsons," Chris quickly exclaimed. He tried to pull away, not wanting to ruin the woman's sweater any further than he had already done.

But, Betty would have none of that. She kept a firm grip on the boy's twitching dick, letting him, causing him, forcing him to further spit and spray his thick, youthful gism all over the front of her sweater, all over her breasts. "Oh yes, Christopher," she exclaimed, "you were clearly very much stopped up. Oh my goodness, you're just squirting and squirting and squirting!"

He was indeed doing precisely that, making a terrible mess of the front of her sweater, leaving all sorts of globs, splats and strings of cum. He gasped through the waves of his climax coursing through his mind, and his loins, "I'll pay for the cleaning," his cock continuing to unleash its thick, sloppy spew.

Betty smiled at the young man's gracious offer, but she was not the least bit troubled. She wasn't even sure she would wash it out right away, as she was enjoying the steamy fruity scent drifting up to her nostrils, overwhelming her own perfume with the young manly fragrance.

Every boy enjoys cumming, and perhaps most every boy also enjoys watching himself cum, seeing his dick vigorously gush and spray its stuff. It was just so vibrant, vigorous, and virile. Chris' glazed eyes gleamed with some pride at how much he was spewing across her big round boobs, like a heavy dose of icing on two large mounds of pink tasty breast.

When he appeared to be done she even squeezed out the last few drops onto the tip of her right boob, and then used one of the few remaining dry spots on her sweater to wipe the knob clean.

Christopher felt so spent, so blissful, but yet again so embarrassed and shameful, as he often did after a particularly lewd climax, and this one was further magnified by the fact that he had ejaculated so soon, so quickly. He was not feeling particularly manly anymore.

Betty pulled up the young man's boxers, but he quickly stepped back, finding it rather infantile for the woman to help him dress, as if he was just a little boy and needed such assistance.

"That's okay, I can do it," he asserted.

Betty considered pointing out that she knew full well that he could. It was just that she enjoyed dressing him almost as much as she enjoyed undressing him. She did though let him do it himself, recognizing the importance for a young man to assert his independence. She rested her hands on her knees as she continued to kneel before him, breathing in deeply the scent of his cum. She considered scooping up a bit in a finger to sample the taste, but the boy was acting so self-conscious that she didn't want to shock him. She had though always enjoyed the taste of her husband's cum, and perhaps the young man's would be even fresher and yummier for its youth.

She asked, "Do you feel better now?"

"Oh yes, yes," he acknowledged, as he buckled up his pants.

"I'm so glad." However, she did want to admonish him with regard to one point. "Now, I don't think you should put it off so long the next time, Christopher," she suggested. "You don't want to get all blocked up or something."

"No, ma'am," he replied. A part of Christopher wondered if he really should continue doing this, but he darned well knew that he would be back, and frankly was quite relieved to hear that it was apparently fine with her if he came back real soon, perhaps even the next day.

"Have you ever had a girl put her lips on your penis?"

He momentarily paused. "What?"

Betty knew that he heard her quite well the first time, but she nevertheless asked again, "Have you ever put your penis in a girl's mouth?"

His eyes widened with excitement. He even felt his spent balls churn a bit. Of course, he wanted to say, 'Yeah, sure, hundreds of times.' But, somehow with Mrs. Parsons he felt he should probably be entirely honest and, besides, she already knew pretty much how inexperienced he was. He reluctantly admitted, "No, ma'am. No." He did though so hope that she didn't ask him any further such questions.

"Well, if you're a good boy, maybe next time I will do that for you. Would you like that?"

He just nodded.

"Alright then, you hurry along now. Your mother is probably wondering where you are." She did want him to go, as she was planning on taking care of herself now, perhaps with her soiled sweater laying across her face.