Footlong Pt. 02

The result was that, when Florence first laid eyes on Julius, she seemed to shiver uncontrollably, her mouth falling open and her eyes getting wide. And in the days after the couple had first arrived, Samantha couldn't help noticing that her mother kept sidling up to Julius and touching him needlessly—on the face, the shoulder, the back, and elsewhere. Once, to Samantha's combined amusement and frustration, she had actually felt Julius's biceps and cried, "Oh, my lord, how strong you just be! You could probably pick me up with one arm!" Samantha was prepared to have Florence actually ask Julius to do exactly that, but she refrained.

Then there was the time when Florence came out of the shower wearing nothing but a big towel around herself. She noticed Julius sitting in an easy chair in Samantha's old bedroom leafing through one of her high school yearbooks. Florence promptly came and sat down on Julius's lap, laying an arm around his neck, and began pointing out Samantha's friends and teachers and other interesting things that the yearbook had offer.

Samantha wandered in, stopping short when she saw her mom. It was immediately clear to her that Florence had pulled the towel up so that she was sitting down on her bare bottom, and the towel was also getting loose at the top, revealing more and more of Florence's abundant cleavage.

"Mom, what are you doing?" Samantha asked.

With a little yelp, Florence had leaped up from Julius's lap.

"Nothing, dear!" she said with a nervous laugh. "We were just looking through your senior yearbook. There are some darling pictures of you in there!"

"I'm sure there are," Samantha said acidly as her mother trotted out of the room.

The situation was quickly becoming acutely embarrassing, so one afternoon when Florence was in the kitchen washing dishes, Samantha decided to have it out with her. Stalking over to her mother, she said bluntly:

"Do you want him?"

A little tremor went through Florence, but otherwise she remained focused on the task at hand. "Want who, dear?"

"You know who. Julius."

"What do you mean, 'want' him? You're not making much sense, Samantha."

"Want him in your bed," Samantha said with extreme precision.

That did make Florence pause in her work. She looked over at her daughter with an expression of what she hoped was high dudgeon. "What are you saying? That's the most outrageous thing I've ever heard!"

"Oh, come on, Mom, you're not fooling anyone. It's so obvious you're dying to cuddle up with him." Then, after an interval: "Has it been that long since you had a man?"

Florence had resumed washing the dishes, although in a more contemplative way. "Yes," she said miserably.

"How long?"

"I've not had anyone since your father left me," Florence whispered.

"No one?" Samantha cried. "Not one guy in two years?"

"No."

"Oh, Mom, you're an attractive woman. You have a lot to offer a man. Why not just get out there?"

"Well, it's not so easy!" Florence burst out. "When your dad dumped me for that little piece of fluff, how do you think that made me feel? I didn't exactly think of myself as a Marilyn Monroe type, you know what I mean?"

"I'm sure there are lots of guys—"

"Maybe there are, but it's pretty hard to find someone who's not bogged down with ex-wives and teenage children and all sorts of other issues. And I don't know that I want someone just for—you know . . ."

"Sex?"

"Yeah. It seems so . . . crass."

"But isn't that why you want Julius?"

"No! Not at all. He's a wonderful man. Yes, of course he's an incredible specimen of manhood. Can I tell you something? The moment I saw him I got, um, you know—"

"Wet?"

"Yes. I can't remember the last time that's happened. But there's so much more to him than that. He's sweet and tender and kind and big-hearted and smart and—"

"I know, Mom."

"So it wouldn't be just physical with him."

"No, it wouldn't, and it isn't. But you do want him?"

"Yes." Florence looked over to her daughter to make sure she was willing to share her great find.

"Okay, fine. How about tonight?"

"Tonight? So soon?" Florence suddenly got alarmed, scrubbing a plate that was already spotless.

"Sure. No time like the present."

"Well, all right."

"But Mom, I have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

And Samantha brought her lips close to her mother's ear and whispered.

Florence seemed to collapse, and had to cling to the granite counter to remain upright.

"You gotta be kidding me!" she cried in terror.

"I'm afraid not."

"How do you . . .?"

"It's taken some practice, but I've gotten used to it. I'm telling you, there's no feeling quite like it when you get it all the way into yourself."

"Mama mia."

"And another thing. He likes it back here." And Samantha slapped Florence's bottom hard.

She squealed in protest. "Back there? Really?"

"Yup. Do you like that?"

"Well . . ."

"Did you do that with Dad?"

"Not with him."

"With someone else? Before Dad?"

"Yes. I did it a couple of times when I was in college."

"What did you think of it?"

"I can't say I was thrilled by it. It hurt a lot."

"Well, it's okay if you tell him no."

"I—I'm willing to try."

"It's up to you."

"Samantha," Florence said with great emphasis, "how do you know he wants me? Why would he? I'm just an old lady to someone like him."

"Mom, you're not an old lady. And trust me, he wants you."

"So . . . you'll talk to him about it?"

"Sure, leave it to me."

And that's how it happened. Julius was easily persuaded. Aside from his overall respect for women, and his respect for his elders, he did find Florence genuinely interesting—and desirable.

Dinner was a somewhat constrained affair, since everyone knew what would happen later that night. Florence seemed a bit giddy, talking incessantly and giggling uncontrollably at times—so much so that Samantha repeatedly shook her head and rolled her eyes. But she understood what her mother was going through. I simply can't imagine what two years without a man in me would be like. Well, that horrible drought is about to end.

They ended up watching a movie that none of them remembered afterwards. Then, like a zombie, Florence drifted upstairs and went to her bedroom, taking her clothes off and slipping into a nightgown. She didn't have quite the courage to lie there nude on the bed as she waited for Julius to join her; a certain degree of modesty was in order, even if that nightgown wasn't likely to stay on very long.

Julius felt no such compunction. Around 10 p.m., he walked into her room—naked.

Florence clapped a hand over her mouth as she saw the immense equipment that she was about to sample. It wasn't fully hard, but it was rapidly getting there. She had not entirely believed her daughter's claim of that member's dimensions (Are cocks ever that big?), but one look was all it took to convince her.

"Hello, ma'am," Julius said softly as he walked around the bed and stood next to Florence as she lay with her back resting against the headboard.

"Hello, Julius," she said, fixated on his groin.

In a dream she let him lift the nightgown off and pull it over her head. Now it was Julius's turn to gawk and admire, and he drank in the exquisite sight of this fine figure of a woman, with her heavy but firm breasts, the swell of her hips, and the incredibly thick and extensive patch of fur at her delta. And when she lay on her side, grabbing his member with both hands, he caught a glimpse of the delicate curve of her bottom and the strong thighs below them.

Florence was not at all experienced in deep throat, and she made no effort to get more than three inches of his cock into her mouth. But that was enough to make her moan loudly, recollecting her husband's cock (which was a respectable seven or eight inches) and, before him, the cocks of those numerous college boys who had poked her every which way. For his part, Julius just gazed down at her and took gentle hold of one of her breasts, gauging its heft as if it were a valuable ornament fashioned by a master craftsman.

He was careful of her feelings and didn't want to invade her body until she was fully ready for it. So he pulled his cock out of her mouth and, making her lie flat on her back, lay down on top of her and buried his head in those superb breasts, not failing to imagine what they might have been like when, twenty years before, they had provided nourishment to her daughter. Then he slid his way down her body and, after rubbing his face in that dark, dense muff, addressed her moistening labia. Licking tenderly but vigorously, he caused more fluid to flow out of her cleft, especially when he delicately nibbled on her clitoris. That elicited a little cry from Florence—but Julius knew he was on the right track, because she was now holding his head in place with the clear desire that he continue his ministrations.

He decided to go for broke. Licking and sucking and nuzzling harder and harder, he was rewarded with a series of gasps and puffs of air emerging rapidly from Florence's mouth, followed by a high-pitched little shriek as her whole body started quivering. He held onto her bottom with both hands as he continued causing more and more of that orgasm to bathe Florence in its warm glow, until she collapsed and lay in a kind of drunken state, her glazed, unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling and her tongue hanging lasciviously out of her mouth.

"Did you like that, ma'am?" he said, looking up at her with mouth and cheeks glistening with her wetness.

"Omigod, it was heaven!" she breathed.

He now moved back up her body and took hold of his member, now fully hard. Florence stared down at it wide-eyed with apprehension.

"Just relax, ma'am," he said reassuringly, "I'll go slow."

Since he was propping himself up above her, both of them could see his organ enter her inch by inch, and Florence's jaw dropped more and more as he forged his way in. When he was in about seven inches, she suddenly cried:

"Oh, Julius, you'd better stop!"

"Really?" he said. "I'm not in very far." Just over halfway.

"It—it's been a long time. I'm really out of practice."

"Okay, ma'am."

He lowered himself slowly onto her and began pumping. The way she was wincing and whimpering grieved him—it was almost as if this forty-five-year-old mother was a virgin! He had no idea whether vaginas contracted when not in frequent use, so his motions were super-gentle at first. But, as she seemed to get the hang of it and her frown of pain eventually dissipated, he entered her a little more with each thrust. She signaled her approval by wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, and by infinitesimal increments he probed her pussy deeper and deeper.

"How far are you in now?" she asked at one point.

Julius raised himself up and took a look. "About nine inches, I'd say."

"I think that's all I can manage."

"I understand."

The feel of this warm, wet channel out of which his girlfriend had emerged two decades ago was quite different from Samantha's in ways he couldn't fully describe. Perhaps it was that "drought" she'd spoken of; perhaps it was the fact that she'd never had such a big organ in this place. Whatever it was, the sensation—matched by the excitement of this unexpected intimacy with an older woman whom he had already come to love and admire—evoked a climax from him sooner than he expected. And when he started pouring out his discharge deep into Florence's vagina, she let out a delighted scream that Samantha must have heard from the confines of her own bedroom. But Florence didn't seem to care, and she clung to Julius as he contiued to douse her pussy with his seed.

At last he pulled out, and Florence felt such a devastating sense of vacancy that she almost wanted to burst into tears. But Julius held her close and engaged in some serious post-coital cuddling, and she was mollified.

But she knew this was far from the end. So, after a suitable period of repose, she whispered in his ear: "Do you want to go into my bottom?"

"That'd be great, ma'am," he said. "Are you sure you want that?" Samantha had given him the lowdown on how long it had been since her mother had accommodated a cock in her posterior.

"I want it with you, dear," she said tenderly.

"That's very sweet of you."

"I got some hand lotion from the bathroom. Will that work as lube?"

Julius had noticed the dispenser on the nightstand. "Yeah, it should do fine."

He squeezed a goodly portion onto his fingers and, while continuing to hold Florence close to him, applied the stuff to her derrière. She had to hide her face in his chest to conceal the mortification she felt at having his fingers explore that nether orifice, but afterwards she obeyed his request to lie flat on her stomach while he carefully positioned himself on top of her.

"I won't go in more than halfway, ma'am," he said.

"Thank you," she replied.

Getting the tip in was always the hardest part, especially since the head of Julius's cock was particularly large and bulbous. Florence buried her face in the pillow to prevent his hearing her pathetic groan of pain, but he heard it anyway—and felt awful. But after he'd shoved his cock in a few more inches, the pain lessened, and Florence took careful note of the long-forgotten sensation of having a man invade that opening. True to his word, Julius went in about six inches and stopped, and then began pumping. As was his custom, he wrapped his arms around Florence's chest and seized her breasts with both hands while he ground his hips into her. Someone looking at them from above might have seen Florence all but disappear under his large frame, except for the legs that stuck out on either side of him.

Florence's eyes bulged and her tongue unconsciously slipped out of her mouth as weird little choking sounds came from her throat. She felt like a fish that had been harpooned by an expert fisherman, stuck fast with no possibility of release. And when Julius gradually slid one hand down from her chest to her pussy, stimulating her just as he was stimulating himself in her bottom, she felt an overwheming sense of complete and delicious helplessness. She was totally under his command, and that's exactly what she wanted at this moment.

And when Julius began to send his emission into her, a slow, wavering orgasm started to course through her frame, starting from her sex and proceeding all the the way up to her brain, where a series of blinding explosions rendered her sightless, a quivering mass of female flesh that continued to shake and quiver long after Julius's own paroxysm had ended. When he pulled out, his seed leaked out of her anus almost at once, joining the thick trickle of fluid that made her pussy a viscous mess.

Even this wasn't the end. After a rest, the couple engaged in a long session of sixty-nine, with Julius's third discharge slithering down her throat as if she'd swallowed a huge, salty milk shake. She may have come twice while licking and sucking him. By this time she was in such a state that only his cock and her pussy seemed to exist—the rest of the world (except maybe the bed they were lying on) had dissipated into nonentity.

Then at last they lapsed into an exhausted sleep.

Florence dragged herself out of bed the next morning, leaving Julius to sleep it off. She found her daughter in the kitchen, sipping coffee and munching on a bagel.

"I must look a fright," Florence said, struggling to bring a semblance of order to her tousled hair.

"I guess you had some workout," Samantha said with a wry smile.

"I don't think I've been through anything quite like it," Florence admitted.

"I know what you mean."

When Florence had gotten her own coffee, she sat down heavily at the kitchen table. There was silence for a while as the two women thought of nothing but the incredible man resting upstairs.

"So," Samantha said slowly, "I guess you'd like a bit more of him while we're here."

"If that's okay with you—and him," Florence said, looking into her cup.

"Sure, why not? Maybe every other night?"

"That sounds fine." After a pause: "We don't want to wear him out, though."

Another smile out of the corner of her mouth. "I doubt there's much chance of that."

"No, I suppose not."

When Julius came down, he gave each of his ladies a kiss before getting his own breakfast.

A few days later, Samantha noticed her mom bright-eyed and energized as she came downstairs in the morning. She had an intuition of what had happened.

Before she had a chance to ask, Florence said with ill-controlled excitement, "I got him all the way in me!"

Samantha was impressed. It had taken her at least four or five sessions before she'd managed to turn the trick.

"Did you, Mom? Well, good for you."

"It was incredible. But I had to get on top—I just can't manage it with him on top."

"No, I couldn't either at first."

"You mean you can now?"

"Yes—just barely."

"Well, that's something to aim for."

"Don't strain yourself. What you've already done is quite an accomplishment."

"Oh, I'll manage." She sighed reflectively. "I just feel so—filled."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"It's almost like"—and Florence suddenly tittered—"his thing is tunneling all the way through my body and is going to come out my throat!"

"Yes, I feel that way sometimes."

"Nothing quite like it."

"No, there isn't."