A Helping Hand

"I can help you with that...If you'll let me?" she teased, her eyes taking a quick tour of his firm young body, running a playful finger over the hard sculptured peaks, searching the indents and valleys, exploring and probing the proportional bumps of his abdomen, lowering her hand and sweeping her fingers through his pubic hair, searching his eyes before scraping a finger nail over the scrotum.

A heart banging inside his chest, a surge of visceral blood rushing through his veins at the speed of sound, chemicals charging hormones, adrenalin fuelling arousal, the fleshy muscle pulsing between his fingers, a lump in his throat threatening to stop him breathing, watching and waiting, wondering what mind-blowing thing would happen next.

Lifting slowly from the bed the vision of beauty loosened her robe, brushing it casually from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, two melon-sized breasts spilling out in front of his eyes, nipples blossoming from dark areolas, the smile of perfection lifting the corners of her mouth, the glint of a temptress dancing behind her eyes.

His penis twitched. His heart missed a beat. His mouth opened and his jaw dropped. He was afraid that if he blinked his eyes the impossible image would suddenly vanish.

He choked back a lump in his throat and refocused his eyes, taking in her unabashed beauty, a work of art silhouetted against porcelain skin, full lips begging to be kissed, shapely breasts and nipples standing firm and erect on dark areolas, the sculptured curves of an hour-glass figure, the junction where hips joined never-ending legs, the mysterious shadowy triangle of pubic hair clearly visible beneath a pair of white panties.

Hormonal chaos rattled around inside his head, saliva flooding in rivers inside his mouth, mindful that if he didn't swallow soon he would end up drooling down his chin.

Stepping over the garment and sitting back on the bed, a flirtatious smile lifting the corners of her mouth, kissing him softly on the lips, lowering her hand and tugging at his fingers, trying to liberate the swollen object from his hand, snorting a surprised gasp when the fleshy limb sprung free from his grasp.

A familiar wetness manifesting between her thighs, her eyes falling under a hypnotic spell, staring wide eyed at the formidable object, capturing images of perfection, studying the shape of the bulbous head, making a mental note of the awesome length, marvelling at the substantial girth, watching the sticky white fluid oozing from the open eye.

"Such a fearsome object on any man would stimulate the vulva of most women, even a nun," she thought, her mind running wild with erotic images, his swollen flesh stretching, filling, abusing her body.

"Give me your hands," she said, never once taking her eyes away from his manhood, placing his hands firmly on her breasts, letting him feel the warmth, the weight, the softness and the hard nipples rubbing against his sweating palms, watching him fondling and squeezing her breasts, smiling at his innocence as he played carelessly with the nipples.

Impulse responding to suggestion, two bodies embracing in the heat of passion, wrapping her fingers around the fleshy column, feeling the firmness filling her hand, moving in slow measured strokes up and down the length, clutching and relaxing, dragging the loose foreskin over the smooth head, increasing the pace, fast and meaningful, slow and deliberate, back and forth, tugging hard, up and down, gripping and squeezing, pulling fast, stoking and squeezing, up and down, back and forth, tugging and pulling, a surge of blood rushing into the swollen limb, his balls tightening inside the scrotum, emotional fluids weeping from the small eye, coating her hand with his sticky seed.

"I'm coming...I'm coming," he moaned, closing his eyes and moving his hips, inhaling and exhaling, sucking in deep gasps of air through clenched teeth.

"Come for me. Let it all come out," she said, in a persuasive whisper.

The dam broke, his balls exploded, erupting in an unprecedented ocean of boiling hot lava, his life source shooting into orbit before falling back to earth, warm streams of seminal fluid spattering her hand, decorating her breasts and spilling over the bed sheets.

Breathing in urgent gasps of air through his nose, his limp flesh hanging like a quivering serpent over his thigh, his balls drained of passion, a contented smile tugging the corners of his mouth, his head and his heart floating somewhere in heaven.

She kissed him on the forehead and rolled off the bed, the messy offering cooling quickly on her hands, skipping across the room to the wash hand-basin, ignoring the old taps groaning in protest, smiling into a mirror as she cleaned the sticky mess from her hands, a love song finding its way inside her head.

Love was just a glance away, a warm embracing...Dooby-dooby-do, she whispered, taking a paper tissue from a box and cleaning his attachments, the sensuous movement of a paper tissue brushing over his fallen champion and her pendulous breasts swinging with the motion of her hand, bringing his flaccid penis back to life.

The sticky tissue abandoned on the floor, the swollen limb growing rapidly in the palm of her hand, curling her fingers around the long veined column, working the length, pulling the foreskin over the bulbous head, watching it smooth away over the thickening girth, pausing briefly to admire the throbbing limb growing in her hand, pulses racing, a heartbeat banging inside her chest, a vulva melting between her thighs, a head spinning with the promise of expectation.

Such a beautiful specimen... The length...The girth...The firmness...

Shaking her head, sweeping away the corrupt images from her mind, remembering that he was only eighteen and his body was still growing, mindful that she was in his bed and the ache between her legs needed urgent attention.

"I'm not finished with you," she smiled, her knickers joining the discarded tissue on the floor, kneeling on the bed on all fours, her bottom perched precariously above his face, the folds and petals of her sex peeking through a forest of pubic hair.

Nervous hands searching in the darkness, sweeping over feminine curves, discovering unfamiliar territory, sliding a finger through the dark bush of pubic hair, parting the delicate flaps and folds, exploring the moist entrance, feeling the heat, the textures and the wetness, watching the cheeks of her bottom opening and closing, making a mental note of the hairy valley and the dark pigmented skin around her anal opening, catching a whiff of his fingers, breathing in the musty smell of sex, waiting for his balls to erupt.

It wasn't how he had imagined it to be down there and it was nothing like the pictures in the girlie magazines. He couldn't believe what was happening to his body. It felt like he was in a dream, floating somewhere above the ground... somewhere in paradise.

Up to this point in his life, Ruth had been a fantasy in his thoughts, a visitor in his imagination, guiding his hand through tireless hours of masturbation.

A nervous lump grew in his throat, imagination running wild with conflicting thoughts that he might have to perform sexual intercourse. He swallowed the lump.

The warm melting pleasure of her mouth broke him from his mental dilemma.

A warm wet tongue marked a sensuous trail of oral fluids along the swollen shaft, a hungry mouth sucking him in and easing him out, taking him deep and spitting him out, teasing the ridge around the smooth helmet, wiggling her tongue inside the small eye, sweeping over the bulging crown, feasting on his essence of life.

He moaned and groaned. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He blurted her name in a final warning.

"Ruth, I'm coming...I'm...I'm coming...I'm commiinngggg."

His balls exploded with a frenzied force, emotional ballast spewing in copious streams from the open eye, the untimely communion filling her mouth, decorating her face, stinging her eyes and making her gag, pulling the meaty object from her mouth, staring curiously at the endless surge of sticky white substance, as if fascinated by the exceptional quantity.

"You're going to have to control your emotions when you make love to me," she announced, rather matter-of-fact, leaning over the washbasin and cleaning the sticky residue from her hands for the second time that night.

"Make love... Mr's Dobson," he gulped. "I... I... Should tell..."

"You don't have to explain," she whispered, interrupting his confession. "I understand your inexperience. But that's another thing I can help you with when I come to your bedroom tomorrow night," she offered, a surreptitious smile curling the corners of her mouth.

"And after what we've just done tonight, I think you can call me Ruth."

She slipped quickly into her clothes, kissed him softly on the forehead and crept silently from the room.

He wasn't sure whether it was the enthusiastic knock on the bedroom door or the delicious smell of bacon and eggs that woke him from his sleep, but his eyes were just coming into focus when Andy barged into the bedroom, sweeping back the curtains with infuriating enthusiasm, filling the room with the sunlight.

"You'll sleep your life away," he smirked.

Remembering his sexual liaison with his mother only a few hours earlier, he greeted Andy with a lazy smile and a voice full of guilt.

"It looks like another nice day," he croaked, failing to disguise the pride in his voice.

A sing-along-voice greeted them at the kitchen door.

"Good morning," Ruth chimed, placing breakfast plates on the table, leaning over and turning up the volume on the radio, their eyes meeting briefly, their faces flushing, both trying to hide behind furtive smiles.

'In My Life,' she sang with the Beatles, twirling in graceful steps, her sandals clicking on the floor tiles, her trousers clinging to her figure like a second skin, dipping into curves and hugging buttocks, breasts bouncing hypnotically inside a white blouse, finishing the song line...'I've loved them all.'

"After you've had breakfast, I've got a little job that needs done in the gazebo," she said, pouring coffee into cups.

Changing a light bulb would normally be a simple task.

But hovering at the top of an unsteady pair of step ladders with a bothersome wasp buzzing around his head and a permanent lump inside his shorts screaming orders in a coital language that he couldn't comprehend didn't make the job any easier.

"Fucking light bulb," he sighed, thoughts of the previous night flashing in his mind.

The warmth of her mouth... her shapely breasts... her curvy bottom and bushy vulva..., the blow-job... the aroma of sex still teasing his nostrils.

"Fuck off," he cursed, swatting away the pest with a sweeping hand, almost losing his balance, catching a glimpse of the vision of beauty walking towards the gazebo.

Framed in a halo of sunlight with one hand raised to protect her eyes from the sun, her hips swaying like a cat-walk model, her breasts bouncing freely beneath a white cotton blouse, Ruth Dobson looked like an angel.

"Can I help?" she offered, raising both hands and squeezing his buttocks, the sound of her soft melodious voice and the slightest touch of her hand enough to awaken the sleeping monster inside his shorts.

"I would like to see what mouth-watering delights are hidden inside those shorts, but I'm afraid I must go and prepare dinner. And don't forget our rendezvous tonight?" she prompted, as she left the gazebo, just as quickly as she had entered.

With a light bulb sweating in the palm of his hand and fantasies swimming around inside his head, her perfume teasing his nostrils and the visitor inside his shorts twitching as if it had a mind of its own, he sighed and went back to work.

After drowning in a sea of hormonal promise for almost an hour there came a point when he thought if he didn't masturbate soon his balls would burst.

Checking his watch for the millionth time the sound of his bedroom door closing against the latch and a whisper of movement gliding across the floor in the hide and seek of shadows, signalled the beginning of a momentous night of passion.

"Sorry I'm late," she whispered, brushing the robe casually from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, twisting and twirling in stockings and suspenders, knickers hugging curves and dipping into valleys, a white uplifting bra exposing a deep cleavage, swaying her hips and flaunting her body with provocative ease.

"I want to you," she smiled, flashing her eyes, reaching back with her hands and unclipping the bra, two weighty breasts tumbling out, shuffling her feet and wiggling her hips, panties shimmering over thighs and dropping to the floor, nylon stockings gliding in static whispers down long smooth legs and pooling at her feet.

She was standing naked in front of him wearing nothing but a smile.

"I want you now," she said, climbing on the bed, kissing his lips and blowing a whisper of hot breath into his mouth, feeling the throbbing limb pushing urgently against her body and a familiar moisture gathering between her thighs, moving her hips and pushing back, letting him feel the warmth of her tits flattening against his chest, letting him feel the intense heat of arousal and the emerging heat of passion between her legs.

He closed his eyes and shuffled anxiously on the bed, moaning and groaning and breathing in urgent gasps, euphoric mutterings signalling his premature release.

"Don't you dare come," she insisted, frustration curling the corner of her mouth.

"I desperately need you inside me tonight," she said, her voice fading into an apologetic sigh, a promising smile lingering long enough to make sure he controlled his emotions.

They were going to fuck, the cold realisation of performing sexual intercourse suddenly fed his panic. He choked back a lump in his throat and chewed the inside of his mouth.

'She doesn't know I'm a virgin...? Should I tell her...? What if I can't get it up...? What if I get it up and she's disappointed?'

The sound of squeaking bedsprings and a demanding voice interrupted his torment.

"Let me get on top," she volunteered, squatting over him with both knees on the mattress, feeling the swollen limb throbbing against the cheeks of her bottom, closing his eyes tight and clenching his teeth, trying his best to control his impulsive climax.

"Let me do the honours," she said, smiling into his closed eyes, lifting her bottom slightly, parting her legs and opening her body, lowering her hand between their heated bodies and gripping the formidable limb, easing the smooth head against the moist lips, lifting and lowering over the awesome length, easing the sturdy muscle inside her body, lifting and lowering, taking him deep, lifting up and easing down, filling her body with hard flesh.

As he entered the gateway to heaven, chemicals charged hormones and heart beats raced, blood rushing through veins and into genitals, two people joined together in a moment of intimate connection, two voices exchanging compliments and words of endearment, loving and giving, giving and taking, moving back and forth to persuasive gestures, rejoicing in a mutual courtship of sexual discovery.

For a brief moment he thought he had lost the distinction between reality and imagination.

She worked him tirelessly, drawing him in and slipping him out, rising and falling, in and out, lifting and lowering, hard and fast, softness against hardness, skin smacking against skin, thrusting and grinding wriggling and twisting, thrashing from side to side, moans following groans, wheezes chasing grunts, pants forcing sighs, pulling her hair and flaunting her body in a tireless exhibition of temptation and persuasive meaning, a mature woman submitting to compelling needs, a clear sign that Ruth Dobson had gone too long without having the pleasure of a man inside her.

Breathing in short gasps through his nose and blowing out air through gritted teeth, a thin smile tugging at his mouth, a combination of fulfilment and achievement distorting his face in a euphoric mask of pleasure.

She was on a plateau somewhere in heaven. He was floating somewhere above the ground. He wanted to shout at the top of his voice that he was no longer a virgin.

He resisted the temptation.

Fucking at the speed of a finely-tuned-machine, back and forth, bucking and thrusting, in and out, penetrating deep inside her warm wet centre, reaching the limits of her inner heat, involuntary muscle spasms taking control of his body, moans inviting groans, cries trailing muted whispers, lips parting, words mumbled in breathless gasps, a choking announcement of an approaching climax.

She just shot him a look that said, "don't-you-dare-stop."

His release came with a powerful force, his legs stiffened, his body shuddered, his balls exploding inside the scrotum, a stream of liquid lava firing up his shaft, shooting through the open eye, a million trillion sperm splashing with reckless abandon inside her innermost depths, flooding the walls of her inner sanctum in a sea of seminal fluids.

Sensation followed sensation, two hearts racing in timeless beats, sweat and perspiration fusing in the heat of give and take, hands searching, fingers gripping flesh, a finger nail accidently piercing his skin, whispers growing into blissful cries, genitals embracing genitals, hot and moist fluids blending with the fluids of passion, feet arching and toes curling, teeth clenching and lips parting, whispers smothered in the explosive release, a breath-taking orgasm celebrated in silence.

Neither of them spoke for a while, two exhausted bodies glistening in perspiration, staring at the bedroom ceiling, whispers and gasps chasing pants and wheezes, inhaling through noses and exhaling through mouths, sucking precious air into their lungs, breathing in and blowing out, waiting for their heartbeats to slow, waiting for the welcoming calm.

Heads turned and eyes met in a smile, her voice soft and sensitive.

"How do you feel? Was it good? Was it all you expected it to be?"

Mouths opened and lips joined in a momentous kiss.

"I will take that as a yes," she smiled, brushing a whisper of wet hair from her face.

A huge wave of relief suddenly swept away the burden of turmoil, a triumphant smile lifting the corners of his mouth and an overwhelming excitement of euphoric glory gathering in the pit of his stomach, words of endearment and promises of eternal affection waiting impatiently behind tight lips.

He wanted to rejoice. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to ask questions. He needed reassurance.

He would have to wait. She had other things on her mind.

A warm mouth and wet tongue marked a moist trail down his chest, fingers probing and searching, fondling and squeezing, dragging her nails over his hairy scrotum, gripping his meaty cock, feeling it growing in her hand, stroking the length, feeling the weight and the firmness filling her hand, snaking her wet tongue up and down the length, sweeping over the bulbous head and probing the small eye, a hungry mouth feasting on his seed of life.

"Get on the floor," she insisted, letting him slip from her mouth, shifting her weight on the bed, kneeling on all fours with both hands flat on the mattress, her bottom raised submissively in the air, glancing over her shoulder, her smile widening, her legs following.

He met her smile and followed her instructions, a fleeting glance at the dark valley of hidden delights between her legs increasing his heart rate, sweat gathering on his brow, the fearsome object throbbing in his hand, waiting impatiently for instructions.

Fumbling awkwardly in the shadows, shuffling his feet and standing on tip-toes, natural impulses fuelling expectation, buttocks clenching and relaxing, moving his hips back and forth, grabbing the pulsating muscle in his hand and pushing forward, trying to penetrate the burning inferno between her legs, feeling the moistness and the heat of her vulva brushing against the sensitive head, sighs and grunts turning into choking gestures of frustration, twisting his face in animated frustration, clearly unsure of how to proceed.