Lemonade and White Melons

Tentatively, he side off his chair onto the floor and pulled over beside the coffee table. His left hand reached out delicately to stroke her skin, tracing gentle circles. Her eyes closed and her hand rested on his thigh. "Susser kopf," she murmured.

With both hands, he began caressing her breasts, lifting them and kneading them; she cooed in appreciation. Lifting a bud to his lips, he kissed it and began to circle his tongue around it. She moaned and sighed, reaching her right hand to pull his head close as he nursed her while her left stroked the stiff bulge in his shorts.

"Put your hand between my legs," she whispered. He did, running his palm up and down between her knee and her crotch, finding she was not wearing underwear. A questing finger found dampness and thrust inward.

"Ja, ja, Schatzi. You are so good to me. I dreamed of this all night long." Emboldened, he put another finger and another comfortably into her slit, while stroking her breasts with his free hand. She sought his fly and unzipped it, bringing his member into daylight with a gasp. "The girls are missing something here. You have such a nice turnip." She stroked it and traced her finger around the end with its dampness.

Lost in sensations, he worked harder and harder on her, making her sigh and tremble more and more. She gasped and began to shake, loosening her grip on him. He kept it up, bringing her closer and closer until she screamed and grasped the end of the couch hard. "Schatzi, schatzi, Schatzi, Schatzi, mein Liebling." Finally, she pushed his hand from between her legs and took deep shuddering breaths. Her eyes flickered open at last, and glistened.

Her hand stirred in his crotch and she whispered: "What can I do for you? I will do anything for you, Liebling. I will do things I have never done before."

He looked into her eyes and trembled. The passion between his legs fought with the embarrassment in his mind. I've just finger fucked my old German teacher, he told himself, and she wants to bring me off. Her fingers reached underneath to tickle the wrinkled skin of his testicles, and his penis shot up rock hard, glistening. Sweat poured from every pore of his body, he could smell himself and her strongly, and his nostrils curled with a sour smell.

"I've got to get ready for work," he mumbled.

She shook her head. "Really?"

"Really." He jumped to his feet awkwardly. "I've got to go. I'll get the hedges done, ah, Friday. Bye." He downed the rest of his lemonade and raced to the kitchen to put the tumbler on the counter before banging out the back door.

He got back home, his pecker still rock hard, and threw himself into something he never did before: the yardwork around his mother's house. If she had been home, she would have thought him insane, but she'd left for his sister's in St. Joseph that morning, so he was alone in his vulnerability.

After mowing the grass and clipping the bushes within an inch of their lives, he microwaved an entree for dinner and booted up his computer to play his favorite Internet adventure until his eyes felt like sand and he could no longer stay awake. All night he dreamed he was at the blackboard working through German declensions while Frau Pearson sat, topless and appealing, saying: "Was hast du jezst gelernt?" over and over again.

He awakened in the early morning light on his back with a small tent at his waist. When the for evaporated, he threw back the covers and began stroking himself like a teenager, trying to burn through his passion as quickly as he could to drive the shame and horror from his consciousness so he could forget her offer to please him.

Thanks to K. S. for help with the German.

To be continued.