A Mishap of Circumstance Ch. 01

"So, when did you return?"

"I was fifteen then, five years ago," he replied as if lost in thought. "My relatives in Greece were nice to me but were glad to get a rambunctious teenager off their hands."

"You a bad boy?" I feigned shock, then smiled. "How could anyone possibly think so?"

He chuckled again as he looked back at me. We both thought of earlier when he had taken me in the dark bedroom without me resisting. Bad boy indeed!

"Let's just say I was a handful, and only one person could guide me to a good path."

"Let me guess. Irene?'

"You are correct," he smiled. His eyes were on me but with a faraway gaze. "You can thank Irene for making me the man I am today."

"Pardon me, Chris, but I was more referring to your style with women. You are young in years but act older. Is that because of what you went through losing your parents? Help me understand that. I'm curious. You intrigue me."

"Irene," he replied laconically.

"Irene? You mean your aunt's influence?"

"Yes, she has been more than a parent in my younger years. When I left, I was a twelve-year-old boy. I returned past puberty and was almost as tall as I am now, having changed into a young man. Irene never treated me as a child from that moment on. She mentored me into being a man - a good man. I owe it all to her."

"She sounds like quite a woman. I would love to meet her one day."

"We'll see about that," he replied, coming closer.

"Why did you come back to her? Isn't your uncle Nick your blood relative?"

"Well, I am her adopted son, and Uncle Nick has moved on to work overseas. The gulf states last I heard. Before that, oilfields in South America and places beyond. Irene was here, willing, and took me in."

"I see. So," I continued, still not satisfied with Chris's answer, thinking there was more he had not included. "Did Irene teach you how to seduce women?"

"You could say that. Irene taught me a lot. But I don't think there was much seduction between us, was there?"

"How so?"

"I mean, we had given each other the eye before. I could tell you found me attractive, and you had to know the feeling was mutual."

"True."

"But what happened earlier was... what is the phrase?"

"A mishap of circumstances?" I repeated the way my son had described my indiscretion earlier.

"Yes," he nodded, still gazing into my eyes. "That! Exactly that."

"So, just what exactly did Irene teach you about being sexy?" I said in jest.

"Everything," he replied as he placed his warm hand on mine.

That simple act. The electric touch of his hand on mine spoke volumes. Not only was I drawn to him sexually, but he made me comfortable with his presence.

"Your aunt! You and her?"

The revelation stunned me.

"She is not a blood relative," he replied semi-sternly. "And she waited until I was eighteen for that part of my training. But the important part, learning how to be a good man, came in the three years before."

"Wow!" I replied.

"Are you shocked?"

"A bit," I replied, taken aback by his revelation. "I mean, yes, she is no blood relative. But she is your adopted mother, and she raised you."

"And?"

I was rendered speechless by his question and how my reaction seemed not to phase him at all.

"I... I don't know. I guess I need to think about it," I replied, confused.

He squeezed my hand and pursed his lips before smiling again with that disarming grin. Why did he have to be so handsome and erotically addicting? I barely knew him, yet I was drawn to this young man like a moth to flames.

"This is why I planned to tell you later," Chris said. "I can tell the mood is shattered. My life story has disturbed you."

"No... I. Well yes. It is certainly different, Chris. But..."

"But?"

I had ruined the mood with my judgementalism, and he was not in the mood for it. But I have to say. He had answered my questions honestly and directly, revealing things most would not. He took pride in the person he was and how Irene had influenced him. And I found his loyalty to her appealing. Who was I to judge?

"Please stay," I said, covering his hand on mine. "I want you to. I'm sorry if I seemed judgemental."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I whispered as he leaned in and kissed me again. 'Oh God!

After that, I resolved to stop talking. We had said enough. And as we kissed, this time, his hands roamed under my robe to find my right breast. His fingers encircled my flesh, cupping and fondling with relish. My nipple rested on his palm, but as he caressed me, it hardened, and it felt so sweetly exciting. It was the first hand of another man on my tits since before Randy and I got married.

But I hardly thought of my husband as this remarkable young man, and I kissed and petted on what was still my and Randy's home. 'Let Randy have his fun with his Marcia,' I resolved just then. It was my time to spread my wings. OK, say it, spread my legs. Happy now? Oh, where was I? Yes, Chris and I were on the couch kissing, and his hand was feeling my tits.

With a flick of his hand, my robe was pushed past my shoulders, baring my naked breasts. Any insecurities I had about my tits, compared to those of young womens', faded as Chris lowered his face to worship them as they had not in years. Not having nursed the kids, my boobs still had bounce and shape to them. Not like when they were twenty years younger but still respectable. The sensation of his tongue, lips, and hands on them took me to another world as I closed my eyes and enjoyed.

"Oh, God Chris! What are you doing to me?"

His answer was to lower a hand down to my tummy. I thought he would go further, but he stopped there, almost teasing me as I had expected him to go lower. Now his palm, fingers outstretched, caressed my belly and left thigh, increasing my arousal.

My naked and shaved pussy was there for him to grasp. And it was wet and willing alright. But Chris took his time, something I found refreshing. I wondered if Irene had taught him patience with a woman but didn't ask. Of course, she had. No man his age would be this easy-going in lovemaking.

But I have to say, after a few minutes or more of this, I was ready to reciprocate. Chris had me on my side over his legs so that my ribcage was over his crotch. In that position, I could feel his substantial bulge develop. And my curiosity got the best of me.

"My turn," I replied, sitting up and getting on my knees. "You have too many clothes on."

He stood then and reached for his belt. But I beat him to it and began undressing him.

"Let me unwrap my gift," I heard myself say, wondering why I had said that.

But I was no longer thinking straight. I still had a buzz from earlier. One I had maintained by having another glass of wine before my shower. And let's face it, booze is female viagra. It lowers our inhibitions. And mine were as low as they could be. I wanted him and wanted him right away.

Pulling his shirt out of the confines of his jeans, I undid the buttons revealing his flat chest. He was not overly muscular like a lifter. Instead, he had the defined physique of swimmers, runners, and rowers. I could not help myself but hug his narrow waist and kiss his pecks.

But that too was just a preliminary as I fell on my knees and pulled his jeans down. Shocked that he wore no underwear, I was faced with that amazing tool he had used on me earlier. His thick cock was almost fully hard by then, in its confinement. But it stood proud once freed. His head was the same size as the shaft right behind it. But it thickened closer to the base. I had to have it -- feel it in my hands.

As my fingertips made contact, it felt velvety to the touch. Smooth and inviting to grasp and handle. Chris was shaved clean of pubic hair. I had never seen that on a man, which made his manhood seem more pronounced, grander than life.

Chris was not circumcised either - a first for me as well. His foreskin strained to cover just the bottom part of his darkening phallus. So much so that as I stroked him, it pulled back behind the head. The novelty of it made me stare as my hands rose and fell, stroking his shaft. And the extra skin made the experience of a handjob different than with circumcised cocks I had handled.

He must have found time to shower because he was clean of any of our juices from earlier. I hoped to rectify that soon. But for the moment, I relished seeing and smelling the first drops of precum drip from his tip. And without much thought, I extended my tongue to lick it as my lips engulfed the front of his tip.

Chris allowed me to get acquainted with his dick from then on. I held his balls that retracted just behind his shaft yet still felt weighty in one hand as the other tried and failed to get my fingers around it. His sheer size and hardness sent jolts of arousal through my brain and the rest of my body. My nipples seemed on fire, and my pussy was dripping -- all in anticipation.

Not in all my wildest fantasies had I expected to be rewarded with such a fine specimen of manhood to enjoy. The urge to lick and kiss up and down Chris's shaft overwhelmed me as I worshiped the source of all my earlier pleasure. This was the cock that had made me cum over and over. And I so wanted to thank it with both my mouth and hands with all I had in me.

As I licked the underside of his head, holding his balls and shaft, I looked up at Chris, who stared back at me intently. No words were needed. Unlike in porn stories, he did not demand me to "suck it" or anything else. We both knew what would happen as I opened my mouth, guiding his hardness over my tongue.

Once I felt his cockhead rest on my tongue, I closed my lips over it and began my task. In the shower earlier, I had wondered what sucking him would be like. It was better than anything I had expected. I was no stranger to sucking cock, I focused on bobbing my head over him and enjoying the head trip pleasuring a man always gave me.

Some see giving oral to a man as an act of submission. And it can be for some. But for me, it has always been an act I do willingly. When a man is in my mouth writhing in the delight of what I do to him, I feel in charge -- in control. That I, myself, am the giver of enjoyment as I work my magic.

Sometime during my ministrations, Chris had placed his hands on the side of my head -- fingers intertwined in my thick brown hair. And soon after, he began a gentle yet deliberate thrusting over my tongue into my mouth. We combined our efforts with a common goal of bringing him off. Something I wanted more than anything.

He never pushed his cock in my throat, nor did I do so myself. I planned on indulging in that later. But in that instant, I wanted this young man to experience the joy of cumming in my mouth as a reward for all the orgasms he had given me earlier. I needed his seed to taste and to feel it spurting inside my mouth, wondering what it would be like.

Oh, the anticipation of the first time! He may have fucked me serendipitously earlier, but this... this was our first cognisant encounter. One that I wanted to be special because I already knew that this was but the beginning for us. And I wanted more. Much more.

"Gabriela..." I heard him gasp. "I'm close..."

I could feel him tense, but I kept sucking him -- harder than before. If he was warning me, this was my answer.

My hands held tight to his balls and shaft as my tongue, lips, and mouth worked him over his peak. Tensing, I felt him shudder before his shaft pulsed, and the first spurt of tasty spunk spilled over my tongue. But it was the second that jolted me as it shot with tremendous intensity to splatter on the roof of my mouth and tonsils. So much!

And there was more. Much more! I swallowed the first three spurts, but there was just too much of it. Some spilled out of the sides of my mouth, down my chin, and dripped onto my heaving breasts. It felt warm and arousing - not just the taste but the now-familiar scent of it. My new lover had been made to cum -- by me! My pussy was so wet for him. So in need.

As he finished and let go of my head, he tried balancing himself on his feet and failed. Guiding him back to the couch, I wondered how long it would take him to recharge.

***

"That was out of this world!" he finally managed to speak.

"Better than your Celia?" I said with a smirk as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"You have no idea," he said, shaking his head.

"Does she blow you?"

"I hate to kiss and tell, but she is young. Girls her age think a guy should be honored to be in their presence. We are there to satisfy them. If they blow a guy, it's just to get him hard so he can service them."

'Was I that bad back then?' I asked myself.

And sadly, the answer was yes. I had been no different than most young women of my time. And in talking to my mother, her time as well. Mom was a child of the late '70s who had enjoyed the sexual revolution to have fun teasing many boys. Until she had cock-teased a man in Canada, who had not let her off easy. After he fucked every orifice she had, roughly, the man had told her he hoped she learned her lesson. Mom had and made sure to warn her only daughter not to follow in her footsteps.

Only I had and was lucky not to have been raped in the process. Lucky enough to find Randy, who was a lovely young man. But in a fit of pot and alcohol during a night of partying, I had gotten carried away. Randy and his friend Jeff had taken turns on me together for an entire evening. By the time I missed my period, Jeff had dropped out of college, and I was left to tell Randy I was pregnant.

Randy and I had sex almost every night, so it was a statistical likelihood that the child would be his. He asked me to marry him, and I had agreed. We had acted as if all was well between us, but we both knew it was not. The uncertainty of whose child Bonnie was, hung over us like a dark cloud. But by then, Clyde had come along, and the happiness our second child brought us, made us set aside the Bonnie uncertainty and move on with our lives.

Still, when I went to college, I met a woman working at a DNA lab. Wanting to know for sure, I had both our kids tested and DNA matched to Randy and I. When I showed the results to my husband, he had nodded and sighed in relief. But I think the damage had been done between us. On the other hand, Bonnie was daddy's girl from that moment on.

Why am I telling you this? Because it was the result of my teasing both young men over time, playing one against the other, even though they were roommates and best friends. The head-trip of having two young men at my beck and call to choose from was a great ego builder. And the night I had them both, one of ultimate bliss. But it had its consequences as it set the tone for my marriage with a bad start. One that very well had led to our break up as we both felt that we had been forced into a wedding we had not planned on.

So when Chris told me of his problems with young girls his age, I understood all too well why he was reticent to trust them or feel connected to them.

"You don't have to worry about any head games from me, Chris," I said, looking at him directly -- hoping he could sense my honesty. I am what and who you see. I'm separated from my husband, and he has a girlfriend. And earlier tonight he found out about us."

I saw Chris tense, and I reached in to kiss him for reassurance.

"Randy and I have had problems that have nothing to do with you. Trust me on that."

"He is not going to come after me, is he?" Then his expression changed from concern to amusing curiosity. "Wait. Did you say he has a girlfriend?"

"Yes," I chuckled. "A coworker of his. Some blond bimbo."

Chris laughed.

"And you are OK with it? And he is OK with you and I?"

"Yes. Apparently, my daughter told him."

"Do you two have an open marriage?" Chris asked.

"I didn't think so until my husband started his affair with Marcia. Then tonight happened," I stopped to gather my thoughts while Chris waited patiently. "And I decided not to sneak around as he had. I called him to let him know only to find that he knew already."

"And to gloat a little?"

"Maybe," I said with a slight smile.

"Was he upset?"

"I think like all men, his ego was bruised at the thought of his wife giving herself to another man. But he knows he has no room to talk, what with him and his mistress. She is married, by the way."

Chris shook his head as he smiled in apparent disbelief.

"I think I like your honest approach better," he said and pulled me close. "Why don't you and I go to your bed and forget about the world and focus on just us. We can tell each other our stories after."

"I like your thinking," I replied, kissing him once more. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"Casablanca!" Chris exclaimed. "Irene's and my favorite movie!"

"I think I like Irene more and more," I replied.

The notion that I felt affinity instead of jealousy at my young lover's female mentor surprised me.

"I'm sure she will like you as well."

"One thing," I said as we walked up the stairs hand in hand.

"What's that?" Chris replied.

"We never, and I mean never, go to the main bedroom. That is my and my husband's room. The guest room is ours."

"I understand," he said with a smile.

"Randy and I may sort things out and get back together, so the bedroom is his and mine until we decide where we stand. I don't plan to let him back in this house until he and I choose to patch things up. If not, I am selling this house."

"And until you decide?"

"I plan on dating him to find out."

"Dating him!"

"Yes. My hubs and I lost our way, Chris. We need to find it back slowly. When I have sex with him, if I do, it will be at his place."

Chris tilted his head with a nod.

"I guess it makes sense," he replied thoughtfully.

"Are you OK with this? I mean, you will not give up Irene or your other women, and I am not asking you to."

"It is your life, Gabriela. You decide what is important to you."

Once again, his maturity impressed me. And in that instant, I wondered if I had raised my son to be this perceptive and understanding -- making a note to talk to my son more. Maybe there was still time.

"By the way, I only have sex with Irene and Celia," Chris spoke, bringing back from thoughts of my son. "Is that OK with you?"

"Oh, yeas... I'm surprised you don't have a larger harem," I joked as we entered the spare room and closed the door.

"I'm surprised it is this big," he replied in jest. "And one more thing."

"Name it."

"Never come to me with another man's scent or juices on you. I promise to come to you clean as well. I managed a shower before I came back here."

"I appreciate it," I said as I stroked his magnificent manhood. It has stayed hard since we talked, and I played with it.

I drew him to the bed, now clear of coats, by holding his hardness. I sat back on the edge of the elevated queen-size and spread my legs for him.

"Fuck me, Chris," I implored him. "No foreplay, we did that already. Just take me."

Moving between my legs, he produced a condom.

"Sorry about earlier," he said. "The condom I used broke."

"I'm on the pill, but I never knew you used one. Oh well, too late now. Your boys have already taken a swim in me, and I am on the pill."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite, now come here. Looking at that big thing of yours is making me gush."

Tossing the rubber back on the dresser, Chris moved between my legs and leaned closer. My eyes focused on his thick erection between my spread legs as he approached. When he rubbed his bulbous head on my slit, I gasped. But instead of entering me, he rubbed the bottom of his hardness over my engorged clit.

"Please... don't tease me, Chris. I need you."

"No more teasing," he replied.