It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Pt. 01

It felt so wrong and yet so erotic at the same time. Each thrust from his powerful hips, each gasp of breath as it was forced from my lungs, each drop of sweat that ran off of his bald head and onto my naked breasts. It was those sensations that was pushing the guilt farther and farther from my mind as my body responded to his. The approaching orgasm was welcomed, no...needed. As much as I needed air to breathe, I needed the release my body was promising. On the one hand I wanted it to arrive at this instant, yet on the other, I wanted this moment to last forever. Any thoughts of my husband and sons we long gone, as was the guilt of what I was doing. What I needed was coming like an out of control freight train. The train roaring unabated thru the station, the tracks rumbling, the train whistle blowing...but it wasn't a train station, it was my body. And it wasn't train tracks rumbling, it was my bed shaking. And it wasn't a train whistle blowing, it was me screaming as an intense orgasm swept thru my body at the same instant his black cock exploded in me...

So...I guess you are wondering how a white, middle aged wife and mother could end up in her older son's bedroom with the black cock of her son's best friend buried in her. I suppose to help explain this I need to start at the beginning.

We live in a nice neighborhood just outside Wichita Kansas. We have two sons, Eric and Craig. My husband, Tom, is a regional manager for a popular restaurant chain. My name is Emily and I work as the secretary to the athletic director at the local college. Craig, our oldest, works for the same company as Tom. He is the manager of a restaurant in Oklahoma and hopes to work his way up thru the company like his dad. He is married to his high school sweetheart, Angie, and they are considering starting a family of their own. Our youngest son, Eric, is a graduate assistant coach with the college basketball team.

Tom's job keeps him on the road quite a bit so I'm thankful to have a job at the college to keep me busy. We are all basketball fans so I attend all the home games and an occasional road game if it's close. After Eric's playing days were over the coach offered him a position as graduate assistant.

During the fall semester Eric befriended one of the players who lived out of state. His scholarship only paid for books and tuition. He was working a part-time job to pay for his dorm and meals. Tom and I got to know him from his friendship with Eric. His friend, Jason was, like most college basketball players, tall, lanky, and black. He was well spoken and well-mannered and seemed to genuinely enjoy hanging around with us. He and Eric usually eat dinner with us and then go up to Eric's room and play video games half the night.

Toward the end of the fall semester Eric approached Tom and I about Jason staying with us for the spring semester to help with his living expenses. With Craig working in Oklahoma, his old room was available. Realizing how beneficial it would be for Jason, we agreed. Jason moved in during Christmas break. He was very appreciative and showed it by helping out around the house. Having a free room and most of his meals with us meant he didn't have to work as many hours at his job.

He and Eric were inseparable. When they weren't at the gym, they were hanging out with their friends or holed up in Eric's room playing whatever video game was the craze at the time. We got used to having Jason around and he became one of the family.

Eric's girlfriend, Jessica, was also a regular at our house. She' a beautiful All-American girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. She and Eric had been dating for 2 years but so far there had been no talk of a wedding. She is a junior in college so they both stay busy with school. From the way they interact with each other I'm certain they are sexually active but I have never caught them in the act, so to speak. Jessica has stayed overnight a few times and I have seen hints around the house that she has stayed with Eric when we were out of town.

Jason doesn't seem to date at all. I even asked him about it one day and he just said he was too busy with school and basketball to have a social life. I tried to assure him that it would be ok for him to have someone over for dinner if he had someone he was interested in. He thanked me but said that it probably wouldn't happen anytime soon.

Now I don't consider myself a nosy person but I was curious why a young, tall college athlete would not be interested in girls. I thought every young guy lived with raging hormones and raging hard-ons most of the time. And besides, I'm a mother. With access to the internet there was no longer a need for the girly magazines of my day but I knew they were doing what all teenage boys were doing. I'm certain that sticky stuff I would find in their underwear was not glue from some school project they were working on. And besides being a tall, handsome athlete, he was black. I understand the attraction between black guys and white females.

Thou I have no personal experience with black guys, my college roommate, Liz, dated one of the black football players for a while. I have spent more than one night sleeping on the floor of a friend's dorm because Liz and the football player were "busy" in our room. I never told anyone this, not even my husband, but I actually got to watch them in action one night.

I had already turned out the lights and gone to sleep when they came in. I guess they were a little tipsy when they got to the room. They never even checked to see if I was there. They just fell onto her bed and started giggling and making out. The noise woke me up but I was too nervous to say anything. And...to be honest, I was also curious. My roommate had told me how well-hung her friend was and how good he was in the sack. I assumed it was girl talk and didn't give it much thought. I had been with a few guys thru high school and college so I thought I had a pretty good idea what a good lover was.

I can't attest to how good he was in the sack, but when he stood up to undress and his penis flopped out, back-lit in the glow coming thru the window, I was certain how well-hung he was. I was scared they heard me because I'm sure I gasped when it dropped out of his pants. It was bigger than anything I had ever seen. If they heard me, it never slowed them down. Liz slid over to the edge of the bed and took it in her mouth. She wrapped both hands around it and still had plenty to suck on. Once they moved back on the bed and began fucking, I slipped my hand in my panties and matched them stroke for stroke. I had two orgasms as I listened to them. The smell of sex permeated the room. I was pretty sure they were making enough noise that they didn't hear my semi-silent moans as I relieved myself. I finally drifted off to sleep to the sounds of their lovemaking.

I thought I had gone undetected until the next day after class. The football player was gone when I got up the next morning and I was dressed and out of the room before Liz woke up. I walked into our dorm after class and Liz was sitting at her desk. The silly grin on her face told me I was busted. "I told you he was huge, didn't I? I know you saw it. And you weren't as quite as you thought. We could hear you moaning a couple of times". I instantly turned crimson red. I didn't know what to say. I had never even heard my parents have sex and now I had to own up to having watched my roommate.

She even offered to hook me up with one of his black friends if I wanted to try it for myself. I refused the offer but, even to this day, I catch myself wondering what it would have been like. It doesn't help that I'm around tall, young black athletes all day. But then I scold myself for having such salacious thoughts. How could a happily married woman allow such thoughts to enter my mind. But I couldn't help it...I did wonder.

Jason kept his room neat and clean. I had given him a basket for his laundry and included it with the rest of the family wash. I noticed right away that his clothes had a unique odor. I knew it wasn't the laundry detergent since his and Eric's clothes were washed together. No, I didn't go around sniffing his underwear and t-shirts, not at first anyway. The odor was just so masculine, so refreshing. And I'm embarrassed to say, so arousing. I would sometimes catch myself holding one of his t-shirts to my face as my mind ventured back to that night in the dorm room with my roommate and the football player. For a moment I would get lost in my thoughts, imagining what it would have been like.

When I would come back to reality I would feel guilty for having such thoughts and promise myself I would never do that again. But I did. Every time I did his laundry. It was like some strange force had taken over my body and I couldn't control it. A few times I actually masturbated to orgasm while holding some article of his clothing to my face.

I would lean against the washer, hold the clothing to my nose, and start by playing with my breasts. I would slip my hand up under my top and bra and roll my sensitive nipples between my fingers. Then I would work my way down my body. My hand would slide past the waist band of my shorts and panties to my clit. By this point I would be soaking wet. Needless to say, a few minutes of work by my fingers would result in an intense orgasm, leaving me weak in the knees and out of breath. Then I would panic and look around to be sure no one had witnessed my deviate behavior. Each time I did it I would tell myself how foolish it was and promise that I would never do it again. I was able to keep that promise only until the next time I did the wash. I was so ashamed and so aroused at the same time.

All guys masturbate. I know that. I have raised two of them. Tom has even told me he will occasionally relieve himself when he's been on the road for a while and misses me. I have been known to use one of my BOB's (battery-operated-boyfriends) to help me relax. Tom and I have even had a couple of mutual phone sex orgasms when he was away for several days. So...I think masturbation is ok.

Because I had found the evidence of their self-love in the boy's underwear over the years, I was not at all surprised when I would regularly find similar wet spots in Jason's underwear. To me it just meant he was a virile, healthy young man. Actually, it would just add fuel to the fire that was already burning in the back of my brain. I would imagine peeking into his bedroom as he stroked himself to orgasm. How big was his penis? What did it feel like? Did it feel different than a white guy's penis? What did it taste like? And then I would end up leaning against the washer again, with two or three fingers buried in my vagina.

Then one Monday, things changed. Tom had left that morning and would be gone all week. Eric and Jason were at the gym. I had gotten home from work and decided to do a load of laundry while I prepared dinner. I had washed all of the boy's clothes the day before so all I had was mine and Tom's to do. I carried the basket to the laundry room and began sorting my delicates from the rest of the clothes. My heart skipped a beat. I noticed a wet spot in a pair of my panties I had worn last week. It only took a second for me to realize what it was. But who had put it there? I knew it wasn't Tom. I hoped it wasn't Eric. I couldn't imagine that my own son would be jacking off in his mom's panties. Now my mind was racing. That meant it could only have been one person. It had to be Jason

If seeing his cum in his underwear was enough to make my mind run wild, just guess what finding his cum in my panties did for my imagination. Yes... it went crazy with questions. Was he just being a horny teenager? Was he a pervert? Was he attracted to me? And the most disturbing question of all, was I attracted to him? I had been conveniently ignoring that lingering thought in the back of my mind until now. How could I be? I'm a mature woman with a family, a job, and responsibilities. There is no way I could be sexually interested in a young black student I hardly knew. But I was. I hated myself for admitting it, but I was. Of course, I could never act on it. It would remain a secret never to be shared.

I put the soiled panties in with the rest of my things and started the wash, hoping that washing away the evidence of his indiscretion would ease the desire I was battling within my own body. By the time the boys got home, dinner was ready and the laundry was put away. The boys scarfed down their food and disappeared into video game central.

I was just finishing the dishes when Tom called. He had finished his meeting for the day and was in his motel room. We chatted about the normal things for a few minutes and then we said our good nights and hung up. I felt a slight twinge of guilt about not mentioning my laundry room discovery but was afraid it would create problems between Tom and Jason. And besides, I was sure it was a passing adolescent thing and would never happen again.

I showered, put on my pajamas, and poured myself a glass of wine. Grabbing my book, I retired to the den to unwind before heading to bed. I read until I was sleepy, then turned out the lights and went upstairs to check on the boys before heading to bed. I guess the boys had conquered whatever galaxy they were battling the aliens for because it was quite in the game room. Eric's bedroom door was closed and, judging by the lack of light streaming from under his door, it appeared his lights were off and he was in bed.

Looking back, I wonder if it was just a coincidence or if Jason purposely left his bedroom door cracked slightly. The light off but the glow of the TV left the room awash in a muted light. My ears picked up an almost undetectable moan as I passed his door. I stopped in my tracks. Was I imaging it or did I hear it. I listened again. There it was again. Not a moan of pain, more a soft cooing of pleasure.

I knew I shouldn't but I had to know more. I eased to the edge of the door opposite the door handle and put my ear near the opening left by the hinges. "Oh yeah...that's it. Please suck it...oh, that feels so good." My mind was racing. How did he sneak a girl past me and into his room? I never heard the door open and there is no way anyone could have gotten in any of the upstairs windows. I leaned in a little closer. "Don't stop...oohhh... yea ...Ms. E...I love the way you suck my dick." What? That's me. He has called me Ms. E since the first day we met. My heart jumped as I realized he was talking about me. He didn't have anyone in the room. He was talking about me. But what was he doing? I had to know but I also knew if I just barged into his room it would be embarrassing for both of us. I couldn't do that.

Hoping that he wouldn't notice in the lower lighting, I eased the door open ever so slightly. That extra movement opened the hinges enough I could see between the door and the frame. And...there he was. More correctly, there "it" was. It was long and black and part of it was wrapped in a pair of my panties.

Jason was lying on his back naked. The bed was positioned so that I was looking across the foot of the bed and right up between his legs. His legs were spread apart and his knees slightly bent, giving me an unobstructed view of his groin area. His head was tilted back and his eyes appeared to be closed as he stroked himself. I was transfixed. My heart was racing as my pulse quickened. This was so wrong and so erotic at the same time.

His right hand moved slowly up and down his manhood, taking my panties with it as he continued his murmuring, "Oh yea Ms. E. That's right...ease down on my black cock. Ohhh...your pussy feels so good...so tight...I can feel it squeezing my cock...oh yea...Ms. E...fuck me...please fuck me..." This was so wrong. How dare this person I hardly know come into my house, take advantage of our hospitality, and then have the audacity to perform such a lurid act. And...he was using me as his stimulus. And the language he was using seemed so vulgar.

I should put a stop to this. I should storm in there right now and kick him out of my house. But I didn't. I never moved from my hiding spot. I knew it was wrong on so many levels. It was wrong for me to be spying on him. I was wrong what he was doing. It was wrong for me not to put a stop to it. But mostly, it was wrong for me to slip my hand into my pajamas and caress myself in time with his movements.

My fingers found my pussy dripping wet as they slipped back and forth through my lips. Slowly at first, up and down my slit, pausing at my clit each time to give it a gentle tug. My breathing increased as did the movement of my fingers, keeping time with Jason's strokes on his cock. "Ahhh...Ms. E...that feels so good...your pussy is milking my cock so good...don't stop...please don't stop...I'm getting close...yes...so close...I want to cum in your pussy Ms. E...please...ahhh...ahhh...here it comes...aaahhh...I'm cuuumingggg!!". Long ropes of cum shot out of his cock, landing on his chest and face. I clasped my hand over my mouth as my own orgasm swept thru my body. I hoped he didn't hear my gasps for breath as my body shook. I leaned against the wall, trying to regain my composure. Praying that he hadn't heard me I snuck another peek thru the crack just in time to see him wipe the cum from his body with my panties.

I pushed away from the door and headed downstairs to my room before I was discovered. I closed and locked my bedroom door, sat on my bed, and grabbed my ever-ready dildo out of the night stand. I ripped my pajamas and panties off, threw myself back on my bed and buried the fake cock in me to the hilt. It only took a few strokes to bring myself to a violent orgasm, this time I didn't even try to suppress the moans coming from my lips as I came.

I remained where I had fallen trying to catch my breath, the dildo still in me as my mind replayed the scene I had witnessed thru the crack in the door of Jason's room. Oh my...what had come over me? I can't believe I had just masturbated while watching my son's friend play with his cock. And...oh my goodness...what a cock it was. It was so long and so black. I no longer felt ashamed. I only felt desire. I knew it was wrong to think about it much less do it, but I couldn't help myself. My body and my lust were in overload. I didn't know when or how but I was going to have that black cock.

I awoke early the next morning from a restless night of sleep. Sleep interrupted by frequent dreams. Each time the dream would be different. One time it would be just me and Jason making passionate love. The next time it would be me and Jason and the sex was hard, almost violent. And the last one was the one that woke me up for good. In it, I was on my back with Jason on top of me, driving his cock into me with long hard thrusts. Just as I was about to orgasm I saw my husband's face staring at me over Jason's shoulder, and he was smiling. The image jolted me out of my sleep and I found myself sitting up in bed, out of breath and looking around as if I expected to see Tom standing there.

That one really startled me. What did it mean? Do dreams really have any meaning? Why was my husband watching? And...why was he smiling? All in all, it was very unnerving. I shook those thoughts from my head and began my day. I dressed for work and left early, hoping to avoid coming face to face with Jason. I knew I would have to eventually but I didn't want to deal with it this morning.

Luckily, I didn't see Jason or Eric and was busy enough at work to keep my mind off of the night before. When I got home from work, I changed into jeans and a top and busied myself with dinner. Then I remembered the panties. I made a beeline for Jason's room to find them. A quick search of his room and the laundry basket came up empty. Then I remembered my son's favorite hiding place.