Diary of a Horny Student Ch. 03

3

I never in a million years thought I'd be helping Steph, my step sister's best friend, the hot older girl who took pleasure in teasing me all through puberty, study for college classes, but here we were.

Steph's mom Sandy greeted me at the door with a warm smile, their cat Foofy casually strutting by behind her. I'd never spent that much time in Steph's family's unit, but as a flighty highschooler I did have a tendency to forget my house keys, so Sandy gave me an open invitation to hang there until someone else came home any time I did. She and her husband Don were both great people, very welcoming. They kept a key under their mat, and encouraged me to use it if need be whether or not they were home. I tried not to make a habit of it, but I did take advantage of their generosity a few times over the years.

A gorgeous mid-40's housewife, Sandy's long, toned legs and mane of glowing blonde hair made it fairly obvious where Steph got her looks, but Sandy had one advantage Steph had yet to develop: two beautiful, extra large, mature breasts that still sat rather high and firm on her chest, despite their size and age. Now don't get me wrong, Steph was no slouch in the tits department, near as I could tell, but her mom was on a whole different level. Steph had tits--her mom had BREASTS.

Sandy was never shy about showing them off either, which got me excited any time our families would get together, especially in the summer. Wrapped in deep V shirts, or bikini tops that held her glorious melons like weighty bowling balls, our backyard cookouts became exercises in hiding erections. One particularly embarrassing summer I found myself standing across the BBQ buffet table from Sandy as she reached over to grab some extra napkins. I looked up from my plate right as her deep cleavage lowered itself to my eye level, and my gaze got lost in the plump, meaty chasm presented before me. My eyes followed, hypnotized as she straightened up, but quickly snapped out of it, as her exit revealed Steph standing there. Her face was scrunched in displeasure as she stared at me.

"Were you just looking at my mom's tits?" she accused. I had no chance of a coherent answer, so she called me a perv and ran off to tell Alex about what a perv her pervy step brother was. Mortified, things got worse as the next person to sidle up to the table was Don. Expecting to get chewed out by a protective husband, Don surprised me. He just gave a hearty chuckle and said "Don't worry about it, Tim--happens to me all the time!"

He gave me a wink and chuckled again as he continued on. Despite the affirmation, it was the most embarrassed I had been in a while. That didn't stop the vision of Sandy's succulent, bursting cleavage from playing a starring role in that night's masurbatory exploits, of course.

Juicy tits aside, however, Sandy was just a regular, unassuming mom and housewife, mild mannered and friendly to all. She worked at the public library, and was a member of the PTA when Steph was still in school. She coached girls' soccer and made great salads, and would stop herself after one glass of wine before things got "too crazy." She and Don were even known to go to a church service with us here and there on the odd Sunday. They were both really great to us after my dad died, and Sandy had long been one of my step mom Kelly's best friends. That's why Kelly would always just shake her head and give a friendly chuckle when Sandy's twin assets were on display, knowing that showing some deep cleavage was probably the closest Sandy ever got to being naughty.

Oh, if Kelly only knew what Sandy really did when she wanted to be naughty.

A little while back, on one of the warmer days that pop up in the early spring, I had gone out for a run. I liked running. It was a great way to clear my head of all the usual junk that weighs heavily on the mind of a high school senior. It was also the only other method of stress relief that worked besides jerking off, which on that day I had made a conscious attempt not to do.

Running didn't stop my mind from still casually wandering in a more hormone-inspired direction, however. I thought about the color of lip gloss Suzie Travino wore to school the other day, and how hot it was that those same lips came so close to sucking on my friend Tara's pussy. As straight-laced and book minded as they come, the thought that even the class valedictorian was no match for Tara's dark eyes and oozing sexuality was very arousing. It was even more arousing to wonder whether Suzie's boyfriend Mike knew his girlfriend might be a "two sport athlete."

Mostly, though, my dirty mind wandered to Sarah, the gorgeous redhead who lived next door, and who was the object of all of my strongest unrequited affection. I had considered asking her to prom, but seeing as we hardly knew each other, I assumed it was a long shot at best. Still, seeing her in a form fitting prom dress, fiery hair done up, perfect breasts held high by colorful fabric, flawless lipstick accenting her luminescent smile, would be a highlight, whether she was there with me, or with someone else. I thought about who that someone else might be, and whether he might be lucky enough to see her prom dress bunched up on his floor, or feel her perfectly painted lips slide up and down his cock.

Tired and sweaty, I returned home to find my front door locked. I patted myself down, but in my haste to get out the door, I had once again forgotten my keys. Looking out to the street I saw that Sandy and Don's car was parked in its usual spot, so I decided to make my way up to their unit.

Knocking once, there was no answer. I tried the handle, and found it was locked as well. Normally I would have just found somewhere else to go, but my legs were aching, I desperately needed a glass of water, and they had given me an open invitation to their home, whether or not they were there. That was enough justification for my sweaty, over-exerted brain, so I grabbed the key under the mat and went in.

The house was quiet. I knew Steph would be at work, and I assumed Sandy and Don had taken their other car out together. The front door opened into the kitchen, so I wandered toward the sink in search of water. Grabbing a pint glass, I held it under the faucet, my hand on the knob, but just before I turned it, my ears perked up as a long moan floated down the hallway. A deep moan. A man's moan. I froze.

Another deep moan, longer this time.

Glass still in hand, I moved silent toward the doorway that led to the hall, and paused. Another moan, punctuated with a long, drawn out "Fuuuuuuuuck," followed closely by a smokey, feminine voice asking "yeah, does that feel good?"

That was definitely Sandy's voice.

I could have left. I SHOULD have left. I should have quietly left them to their privacy and waited outside for Kelly to come home and let me in. That's what a rational mind would do. I, however, was not thinking rationally. Between my post-run exhaustion and the growing tightness in my shorts, my voyeuristic, animal brain took over, and I slowly, quietly started my way down the hallway toward the sound, cock first.

The moans continued as I moved silently through the darkened hallway, my body vibrating at the forbidden thrill of what I was doing. Sandy's encouraging dirty talk continued guiding me toward the living room entryway.

"Mmm yeah, you like that, don't you?" she cooed. A long masculine moan answered. My gaze rounded the slight corner of the entryway, falling into the living room. I stopped dead in my tracks. My awkward angle caused the majority of the scene to be obscured, but what I could see were bare legs, a man's legs, splayed out from the edge of a comfortable easy chair.

Between those legs knelt Sandy.

Her blonde hair done up in a messy bun that reminded me of Steph, Sandy knelt on a pillow, wearing nothing but a black G-string. Her hands were slowly running up and down the considerable length of a thick, hard cock. Glistening and wet, she treated this cock like it was a work of art, cooing as her hands explored every ridge and bump, periodically encouraging a sudden throb followed by a pleasurable grunt. As the work of her gliding hands drew out another deep, prolonged moan of pleasure, a big, warm smile formed on her lips. The same big, warm smile I had seen countless times at neighborhood cookouts, or hanging out in the kitchen with my step mom Kelly. Her lips formed that smile, and then opened wide as she lowered her head, taking the bulbous tip of the glistening cock into her mouth. He gasped. She moaned.

Eyes closed as she savored the feeling of this big, thick piece of meat in her mouth, her head started to bob up and down in time with her stroking hands. They moved slowly, as one, twisting and sucking, accenting the pattern with a slight slurping sound whenever she reached the tip. Masculine moans mixed with the higher-pitched moans of her equal pleasure. It was quite clear that Sandy, the friendly housewife, genuinely loved to suck cock. My own cock was hard and desperate for release as it throbbed against the confines of my tight athletic shorts.

Her mouth came off the end of his cock with a pop, and she smiled at him while still stroking. Then, removing her hands, she squeezed both of his big balls gently, and took the entire length of cock right down her throat. I almost audibly gasped, but I stopped myself. My hand drifted down and squeezed my full balls.

A loud masculine moan, and a long "Fuuuuuuck meee!" followed as she slid back up to the tip, rolling her tongue around the head, then sinking the big cock all the way down her throat a second, third, fourth, fifth time.

This was an intensely intimate experience between two adults. I knew I did not belong there, but I was completely entranced. Of course Sandy was a sexual person, she and Don had a very flirtatious relationship full of ass pinches and PDA, but my whole being was transfixed by the knowledge that this sweet woman could deepthroat a cock like a pro. I should have left, but instead I stayed, and continued rubbing my hard dick through my shorts.

In my time as a horned-up virgin, I had spent many, many hours masturbating, becoming fluent in all manner of pornography. As anyone does, I developed my own fetishes and preferences for the kinds of acts and images that really got me going. After discovering a love for large, natural breasts and oral sex videos, I surprised myself the night an extra intense orgasm revealed to me an intense preference for cumshots and facials. The one act that was an absolute favorite of mine, however, was one that combined all of my fairly vanilla fetishes into one: when a woman would wrap her luscious breasts around a hard, wet cock, and fuck it with her tight cleavage until the inevitable white eruption.

This is why I didn't leave. Because after a final, long sheathing with her throat that left that large cock coated in thick saliva still stringing to her lip, Sandy rose up higher, leaned in, and with a broad, lusty smile squeezed her buoyant tits around that cock, and started to slowly slide them up and down. This is why, watching my upstairs neighbor, the organizer of the soccer team bake sale, fuck this long, throbbing cock between her heavy mature tits, I reached into my pants, released my own cock, and started stroking along in time.

Sandy was moaning with every hot stroke. A smile on her face, she kept eye contact with her obscured partner as her body writhed up and down, milking this cock closer and closer toward orgasm. She cooed when the fat, straining head would peek out through her cleavage on the down stroke, and occasionally she would dip her tongue down and lick it, smiling that lusty smile every time. Don was a lucky man.

The masculine moans were getting longer and louder. Those legs she knelt between started to twitch and stretch. Sandy picked up her pace. So did I. I was awash with forbidden eroticism, not only in what I was witnessing, but in the danger inherent in what I was doing. I should stop. Now.

All reason left my mind as they reached a fever pitch, both breaths growing rabid and wanton. He was close. So was I.

It was then that he suddenly pushed Sandy back and stood up, his cock proud and dominant, reaching toward her gasping face. She sank back on her heels and looked up at him. I followed her eyes up, and internally gasped myself as I saw the face of the man standing over her, a man who was most definitely not her husband Don!

With one of her hands caressing his swollen balls while the other milked his straining cock, Sandy tipped her head back. She started furiously stroking, and the mystery man began grunting and shaking, all the while Sandy whispered erotic words of encouragement.

"That's it...cum for me..." My pace increased, my heart a jackhammer in my chest and in my cock.

"...give it to me...give me your load..." The man reached his boiling point, and put his free hand on the side of her head to steady himself. The hand on his cock was a blur, and a long, drawn out moan snaked out of his throat just as Sandy gave one final instruction: "Cum for me."

Eyes still locked onto his, she opened her mouth wide as the first jet of hot love careened out of his pulsing cockhead, drawing a long, white slash from her chin to her hairline.

Her open mouth smiled and she squealed in excitement as two, three, four, five, thick ropes of cum splattered recklessly into her mouth and onto her lips and chin.

Remembering the pint glass in my hand, I quickly placed it over the head of my screaming prick as the sight of Sandy dripping in cum triggered my own orgasm. Pleasure surged through me as I painted the inside of the glass, desperately trying to stay silent as I throbbed through one of the most intense orgasms of my life.

I looked back at the semen-splattered Sandy, thick strands dripping off her chin onto the swell of her fantastic breasts. She closed her cum-filled mouth, and I saw her throat pulse as she swallowed. She then took his still spasming cock into her mouth and lovingly sucked him clean as his breathing began its trek back to normalcy.

I too was coming down, and in a haze I took one final look at this gorgeous, love-stained creature, so satisfied with a job well done.

I froze as I heard a third voice.

"Oh my God, baby, that was so fucking hot" bellowed out from a place in the room I couldn't see. Then, stepping into my eye line was Don, her husband! He was just as naked as the others, his own generously-sized cock fresh and erect. In his hands was a video camera.

He took his time recording the scene, stroking himself slowly, with Sandy making sure to show off her glistening face and assets for his lens. Then he passed off filming duties to the mystery man and placed his hands lovingly on her head. Her hands ran up and down his legs, electric with lust, and they both moaned as he slid his cock between her still-cum-covered lips and began slowly thrusting.

In an abrupt moment of post-nut clarity, I realized I needed to get out of there now. Quietly, but quickly, I shuffled my way back down the hallway, through the kitchen, and out the front door, making sure it was locked as I left. Hustling my way outside I took a moment to reflect on what I had just seen. Not only was Steph's mom Sandy, the unassuming housewife, a skilled and passionate cocksucker and a total fiend for cum, but she and her husband Don seemed to be extremely open with their sex life, including a third person, as well as recording highly explicit pornographic video of the event.

I shouldn't know this. No one should know this. I wanted to see those videos. What other depraved things did Don and Sandy get up to behind closed doors? No, it wasn't my business. It was no one's business!

I looked down at the pint glass still in my hand, the bottom third frosted with the pearly memories of what I had witnessed.

My cock twitched.

That first study session with Steph was tough. The subject wasn't the problem, that was no sweat, it was just that I was having a hard time focusing. We were sitting in the very living room where I watched her mom throat some stranger's huge cock, and every time she smiled or addressed me, all I could picture was her on her knees, huge tits out, her smiling face drenched in jizz. It was distracting, to say the least.

Citing my allergy to cats as an excuse, I asked if there was another room we might be able to work in. After a short thought, Steph smiled wryly and said "follow me. But don't get any ideas."

We entered her bedroom.

Her room was decorated in the usual contradictions of a college-aged girl living in the home she grew up in. Philosophy text book here, old teeny bopper magazine there, etc. I scanned the room, my eyes landing on her bed right as Steph quickly shut the drawer of the bedside table.

That bed. Sheets unmade and wild, I imagined her kicking them into a frenzy as her legs flailed from one of the many orgasms I've heard slip down through the cracks in her floor and into my bedroom down below. And what was in that drawer that she needed to shut so quickly?

"Trying to hide your vibrator?" I said, seeing an opening to strike and taking it.

She snorted a bit incredulously, but I swore I saw some color rush into her cheeks. "You wish, perv," she said, finally.

Though her bedroom provided its own unique set of distractions we managed to get work done. We worked well together, and it began a trend where three times a week we'd meet in her room to study. The more time we spent together, the more her guard came down, and we actually got to know each other as people. Our sessions seemed to get longer, with more and more time spent just hanging out together.

Don't get me wrong, every now and then, when Steph was getting bored with the material, she'd drop a bra strap, or reach over to get something in a way that made her perfect, athletic ass rise like Kilimanjaro over the Serengeti just to fuck with me, but generally we had a good time. Dare I say we were becoming friends.

In the following weeks, Tara continued her words of caution, and almost shit her pants when I told her why I was so distracted that first time. She was very interested in the details, especially those of Don's cock, and was effusive in her appreciation for Sandy's sexual confidence. I knew it was turning her on, and I knew she'd be enjoying that one-two-three, one-two-three vibration pattern later that night while thinking about it.

Rachel and I still talked, but I'd be lying if I said I was thinking about her that often. I knew her prom was coming up, occurring a few weeks before my prom, and honestly I was dreading it. Despite the thought of seeing those massive mammaries of hers in a slinky prom dress, I wasn't expecting to have much fun at a prom where I would know exactly zero other people. I thought about that same feeling for Steph as my prom date, and just hoped that our new found friendship would be enough to help her enjoy the night.

As time passed, I started to feel bad about our arrangement. It was a request made as a power play, and now that I had gotten to know her I felt bad that I was exploiting her. At the same time, however, I was desperate to see her lithe, tanned body move hypnotically on the dance floor, to put my hands on her hips as we slow danced. I felt bad, but these thoughts of Steph still occupied my fantasies as I stroked myself off at night, especially the nights when I'd get home from a study session, only to hear those moans, and that short-short-long cry of release trickle down into my room as the night grew longer. What can I say: I was a teenage boy--full of hormonal contradictions.

Our final study session arrived, and we both knew Steph was ready. Her test was that coming Friday, the same day as Rachel's prom, and so after our final run through of the material, we decided to have a bit of a celebration. Her parents were gone for the evening, so out came the glasses, and along with it the booze. We were nice and relaxed, sitting on opposite ends of the living room couch, and as we got comfortably buzzed, our conversation began to get more revealing. The booze had put me in a mood, and she got a good chuckle listening to me moan about having to go to Rachel's prom.