Good Neighbors Ch. 10

Time, and the absence of Marty's warm hands caressing my body when he finally withdrew them from my waist, helped to clear my sex-addled head. Benjamin would be home soon and I would need time to make myself presentable for him. Benjamin would be dining on hot, spicy pussy this evening, of that I was certain.

I gathered a few more of my wits about me, sat up on the edge of the bed as Marty straightened up, and drew a deep breath. "Marty," I began, "What is a --a bedonkadonk?"

From the look on his face, you'd have thought I just asked him to rob a bank.

"Is a bedonkadonk something a woman has -- or is it something I can wear?" I continued when he didn't answer.

Marty began to sputter. "W-w-well... It's -- it's sort of something a woman has," he began hesitantly, and then he added, "But not every woman has a --a --a bedonkadonk."

"Well... do I have one?" I asked. I was getting a little impatient. Marty was making a bedonkadonk sound like some miraculous quality like a sixth finger or a cock as big as Edward's.

Marty's face lit up at my question. He glanced behind himself, spotted my hot new panties in the bathroom lying in the doorway, and dashed over to retrieve them. He held them up to me as he approached and snapped, "In these you have an ever-lovin', world-class, life-in-prison bedonkadonk!"

Perhaps I was a little slow on the uptake. Having so much satisfying sex has been known to do that to me, but I still didn't quite understand. "So... my panties are the badonkadonk?"

"No, no!" Marty shot back. "Wearing panties like these, is only part of it," he told me, shaking my panties at me, "You have to wear a tight pair of jeans, or a skirt and they have to ride really, really low on your hips."

I stared at him for a long moment. "But - then you could see my panties!" I thought a bit more and added in shock, "Why, you might even see the crack of my ass!"

Marty continued to stare at me with a fire in his eyes. Suddenly, I could tell he was thinking of a way to make the meaning, and the importance of a bedonkadonk clear to me.

"Do you have a belt? A-a wide belt handy?" he asked. He was almost frantic now.'

"Well, yeah," I answered blankly and pointed to my closet, "Just inside the door of the closet."

He dashed to the closet, located a wide black leather belt, snatched it up off its hook and returned to stand in front of me.

"Here, put your new panties on and maybe I can show you. At least I'll give you an idea of what a bedonkadonk is."

"Can I clean up a little bit first?" I asked. These were, after all, brand-new, almost never worn panties and his rich rewards were still running down my legs.

"Sure, sure!" he answered impatiently.

When I returned from the bathroom half a minute later, he thrust the panties at me and I pulled them on. I still marveled at how sexy such a small amount of lace and elastic could make me feel.

"Now, let me put this belt on you. Try to imagine this belt as the top of a pair of hip-hugger jeans or a skirt."

He stretched the belt around my hips, drew it loosely about my waist and let it settle across the swell of my hips.

"There," he announced, "That looks exactly right!"

A second later he was guiding me back over to the full-length mirror again. This time he carried his little hand mirror with him. He positioned me with my backside toward the mirror, then handed me the small mirror.

Look over your shoulder at your backside now," he ordered. He had a wild-eyed glint in his eyes that worried me.

Shocked is not a word I use lightly. And I was shocked. I shifted the mirror to my other hand and stared at my backside over the other shoulder.

"But you can see my panties!" I almost shrieked. I stared a bit longer at my behind in the mirror and it dawned on me that there was a hint of my -um cleavage visible back there. "Oh my God, you can even see the crack of my ass!"

"And that, Mrs. Haffenshaft is your badonkadonk!" Marty said, waving his hand across my behind. He sounded awfully satisfied with himself -- or maybe he was just excited. I couldn't tell.

I was still in shock. This was just me thinking this, but my ass looked unbelievably inviting this way. I couldn't help but wonder why I'd never seen other women showing off their badonkadonks.

"How come I've never seen women showing off their badonkadonks, Marty?" I asked.

My young student thought for a moment and replied with a question of his own, "How often do you go to bars or big parties or even rock concerts?"

He had me there. I had never been a partier or a big drinker and the last time I had attended a rock concert, the Kings of Leon were a new group on the scene. My memory went back to that concert and I realized that even I had dressed a little wildly back then when I was first married. I hadn't paraded my little old bedonkadonk around, but I distinctly recall catching quite a few male glances in an almost-see-through silk blouse with no bra. That may have been the last time I attended a concert and that had been twenty years ago. I smiled at the thought that young men still liked to look at my boobs.

"H-m-m-m... maybe I need to go to a concert this summer," I answered, smiling.

"In a pair of nice, tight low-rise jeans and these panties, I hope," Marty offered, pointing to the delicate black lace stretching over my hips with a lewd grin.

I couldn't help myself. I squirmed a little bit at the thought of loud music, a heavy, driving beat and my gyrating ass on display in a pair of jeans that clung to me like tissue paper on a Christmas present. Amazing as it may seem, I was becoming aroused once again.

"Would you do me a favor, Marty?"

"Sure," he cooed happily.

"Would you slip a finger down there into the crack of my ass, please? I'm just dying to see how it feels."

I paused a moment to give him time to slip his finger down there beneath that silly belt and bury it in my crack before I added, "That is what young men do when they find a bedonkadonk that interests them, isn't it?"

It felt positively wonderful! His finger began gliding in and out of my crack slowly, the rest of his hand cupping my bottom in a most friendly and reassuring manner.

"Oh... Marty!" I gasped, "I'm definitely going to the jeans store on Thursday!"

"Would you do me the honor of attending a concert this summer?" Marty asked a moment later.

"We-l-l-l," I began, feigning hesitation, "Only if you promise to stroke my bottom just like you're doing right now." I paused and let him carry on with his stroking, then added, "Oh! And you'll have to shave me and trim me from my navel to my ankles before we go too!"

"I had no idea you liked rock 'n roll so much!" Marty squealed into my ear.

"Oh! I used to love heavy metal!" I told him, then added "The heavy, driving beat and the shriek of electric guitars made me want to do crazy things."

Marty's hand was still cupping my bottom, his finger still sliding up and down between my cheeks. He wanted very much to kiss me, but I was doing my very best at playing hard to get. He settled for nibbling gently on my ear and slipping his exploring finger deeper and deeper between my cheeks. Pretty soon I felt his finger alternately bumping into the lace junction of my panties back there and at the pucker of my rectum. From the ease with which his finger danced between the two, I was certain my rectum was only passingly concealed by my panties.

"M-m-m!" I purred, "For God's sake, please make it a heavy metal concert! I've gotta have a solid, loud beat if I'm gonna wear these panties and flaunt this ol' badonkadonk of mine!"

Marty pulled me closer and began fondling my boob.

I glanced at his hand caressing my breast, shuddered at the warm, exhilarating sensation of having that big nipple tingle and stand at attention with his touch. He knew just what to do to thrill me, make me comfortable in his arms. He had learned so much in these past few days. Lena, Liz and I must be doing our jobs as teachers well, I thought to myself, just before I tipped my head up to him, parted my lips and joined with him in a much-deserved and rousing kiss.

"What do you think, Marty, should I even bother wearing a bra to the concert?"

Marty had scooped me up in his arms and was on his way back to the bed when I asked him. He paused in mid-step, gazed at my boobs, one lolled against his chest on the right and the other spreading out over his fingers as they clutched my ribcage on the left. He thought for a second and snapped, "Well... as long as you wear panties like a proper lady, I don't believe a bra is required."

"You are so right, of course!" I told him and then I proceeded to force my tongue down his throat.

Somehow he managed to find the bed and deposit me on in it with his eyes shut and my tongue still tangled about his tonsils. Before I knew what was happening, Marty had me up on my hands and knees. He was standing beside me.

"I really liked watching you and Preston on the trip home a few nights ago. I think it's called 'doggy-style.' I've kind of wanted to try that with you ever since."

I knew he was being honest. His cock was level with my eyesight and it was standing proud and tall. It was a rousing sight to behold. There is nothing about a man more honest and more sincere than his erection (or lack of one).

"Then you want to take me like dog?" I asked.

"Well... not exactly like a dog," he began, making his way to the foot of the, "More like a pony. If you don't mind me pulling on your hair like the reins of a pony," he explained.

I glanced backward over my shoulder toward him, "Ooh my! You won't pull too hard, will you? You won't make me jump any higher than your big cock, will you, Marty?"

"No, but I will ride you hard," he answered.

Marty was between my legs now. He slipped the panties free of my hips, letting them fall to my knees and then we worked together shifting my knees carefully to free my new panties. Marty tossed them off in the direction of the bathroom once more and then nestled his cock between my cheeks. Its stiffened length pressed in hard between my cheeks like a fiery hot poker. I snuggled my bottom against it, savoring its heat and hardness and jubilant that I was responsible for my student's uncompromising enthusiasm for learning.

Un-n-ngh," I sang out softly as his cock slipped into my opening and he thrust it slowly, deliberately forward until he was completely entombed in my sweet pussy. His balls came to rest against my thighs and I made a sort of gurgling, happy sound.

"You won't mind if I use your lovely blonde hair for a set of reins? I've got a real hankering for a long, hard ride, Mrs. Haffenshaft -- and I think you're up for it!" he hissed out through clenched teeth.

"Oh, Marty! I think I can go the distance with you. Just try me!"

Try me, he did. He grabbed up a fistful of my shoulder-length blonde hair in each hand and withdrew his boner until I almost couldn't feel it inside me at all. Suddenly he tugged at my hair and thrust his cock forward. My head snapped back. My pussy was suddenly straining and full. My ass made a soft slapping noise against his belly. I shrieked out with the shock and pleasure of this rough treatment.

Marty must have liked the sound I made because he let out a satisfied little gasp and began to repeat his motion. Soon we were galloping along at a savage clip, my back bowed, my breathing ragged and strained. I sensed orgasms just over the horizon for me -- if I only could go the distance.

My rider certainly had every intention of taking us both over the finish line. He relaxed his grasp on my hair as we galloped headlong toward what I was sure would be a breathless, screaming and sweaty finish to our rush for glory.

We were racing onward together now, our shared destination looming up before us. Marty no longer needed to guide me onward using my hair for his reins. Our finish line lay clearly ahead for us both. The slap of his belly against my ass grew louder as we fought our way over every inch of rough terrain and each hurdle. The bed began to creak and my boobs began to pitch violently with each slam of his young belly against my ass. Soon my big, fulsome tits were swinging back and forth wildly, slapping me in the chin from time to time.

I could feel the climax approaching, boiling slowly up inside me. Marty began to groan out as if he were in the throes of some delirious state of ecstasy as well. Suddenly, he released the grip of both his hands on my hair. He never slowed his pace at my backside but suddenly, he grabbed up a single generous hank of my hair in one hand and gave a firm yank that drew my head back. At the same time, his free hand snaked beneath me to my belly.

Marty fumbled for a second, but finally found my clit and began to diddle me. He already had my clit standing on end. I could feel it bobbing and squirming beneath his fingers. Marty began to taunt my little joybuzzer and treat it like his own personal plaything. I responded by letting out a shrill scream and then I launched into the most intense orgasm I'd had for at least the last ten minutes.

My arms gave out abruptly and I collapsed face-first on the bed. At least my boobs stopped slapping me in the face. Marty -- the gentlest and shyest of my students, had become a young man on a mission. My ass was now jutting up in the air. Marty's wonderful, hard peg was still pounding in and out of me like a piston. His palm was spread beneath my belly supporting me, and his fingers stroked away at my clit while he continued his all-out charge for the finish line. Marty remained unfazed by the collapse of my arms. He simply hammered his cock downward at a steeper angle and set about abusing me at an ever more furious pace.

I knew our race was nearing the finish line but still, Marty had a bit more ground to cover before bringing our ride to a climax. I was determined to help him see it all through to the end. If it meant I would have to endure several more orgasms, then I would need to be steel myself and endure everything Marty had in store for me. After all, I was his teacher, and it wouldn't do for me to abandon him during his time of need. No matter how thoroughly sated I was, it would have been cruel of me to stop now. I was coming to feel a genuine calling as a teacher of young men.

"D-d-d-amn!" Marty called out slowly, deliciously a minute later. Then he grunted long and loud like rutting bull with his belly dug in tightly against my ass and his cock straining the depths of my sweet little pussy.

Marty withdrew his cock almost completely, sucked in a sharp breath and then thrust his manhood back where it belonged - deep inside me. He froze like this, but not for long. He began to erupt inside me. I felt my helpless upturned hole swelling, straining to contain all that delicious hot stewy mix of his lust and sweet creamy goodness. Sadly, my pussy was just too small and his lust was too great for me to contain all that he had to give.

I began to whimper. Now, don't misunderstand. I'm not usually an emotional person. I don't cry at the drop of a hat, but there was so very much in that moment which overwhelmed me. Marty and I were as completely and closely in union as any man and any woman could ever possibly hope to be. Marty had become a man now in every possible sense of the word and I was in large part responsible for his blossoming into the virile, driven young man who could both make me realize how beautiful, how desirable I was and at the same time, send every nerve in my body into pleasure-shock. All this was simply too much for me.

I wept softly, my pussy spasmed involuntarily over the length of the lovely cock inside me, and the cum quietly welled up at the lips of my opening and began to creep down my thighs. At that very instant I could think of nothing that could possibly have made this moment more complete, more gratifying or any more exquisite. This sensitive young man, a mere inexperienced nineteen-year-old only days ago had become... had become... a stud? A lover? He had become a strong young man who quickly learned the basics of what a woman needed and wanted and was more than willing to provide it. It was all too much for me to take in. I lay beneath him, weeping softly, happily, my face buried in the pillow.

"Mrs. Haffenshaft, what's wrong?"

Marty's cock was still buried to the hilt inside me when he discovered that I was crying.

"Are you alright? Did I do something wrong, Mrs. Haffenshaft? I know I came awfully big that time, but I didn't mean for it to get too rough."

I sputtered for a moment, drew in enough breath to reply through my tears and began, "Oh... Marty... you didn't hurt me. I'm fine. Fine."

"What's wrong then?" he asked, still panic-stricken.

"Dear, you have done everything perfectly. Mrs. Haffenshaft is just... well... a little... overwhelmed by everything you've accomplished," I muttered.

I was still pinned beneath him with his cock inside me, though it was withering now. I stirred a bit and was able to gently dislodge his manhood. That spurred Marty into action. He shifted to sit beside me and helped me to straighten up. Finally, I rocked backward to rest on my knees. I began to wipe the tears from my cheeks with my hands. I'm sure my mascara was all over the place.

"Believe me, Marty you have done everything perfectly. I'm touched- and honestly blown away by how much you've learned in the past few days. You are a wonderful student! I'm just so overwhelmed by it all. I-i-it's just so very moving for me to know I played a part in it," I sniffled.

"I owe it all to you, Mrs. Haffenshaft," he told me shyly. He seemed almost apologetic.

"Well, I think Mrs. Nobbing and Mrs. Bla-," I caught myself and corrected, "-the Silver Fox have had a lot to do with your progress too."

He smiled at me and countered, "Yeah, but you were the first woman I ever made love to and besides, you give better lessons than they do."

I wasn't at all sure what he meant in saying I gave better lessons. I was certain from all that Liz and Lena had told me that their lessons were just as intense and every bit as educational as mine. Even Liz's and Lena's knowing observations concerning our panties and their place in our lessons had truly amazed me as well as sparked my interest. Their whole discussion left me feeling slightly dumbfounded for completely missing the fact that our students had been taking our panties. I didn't even realize young men wanted to sniff something that had been plastered to my crotch for hours on end. Even now, having just stumbled upon this utterly wonderful new style of panties, I felt like I was merely playing catch-up with my two friends. The two of them seemed to be so much more knowledgeable in all these matters. There is so much to know when it comes to guiding developing young men and understanding their needs.

The notion that so many young men might be carrying my panties around in their pockets, taking them out (often, I hoped) to sniff them for inspiration made me want to slip a pair of my sleek new panties on and squirm myself into a reckless little lather for one of them right away. My bottom fidgeted involuntarily at this thought and the last of Marty's spunk oozed out onto the backs of my legs. It suddenly dawned on me with a shock that this unexpected addition of soiled panties to our calling meant I was going to need a lot more panties!

"Thanks for being so concerned, Marty. I was just overcome with the satisfaction I feel in knowing how far you have come in these past few days and in knowing I played a part in it," I told him.

"And you weren't crying because I hurt you? So... you're crying tears of joy?" he asked.