Mrs. Green

This is a story set after my 18th birthday during my senior year.

It was a Friday night midway through my senior year. Chris and I were staying the night at Scott's, something we had done throughout middle and high school. HIs room was removed from the rest of the house and his parents less attentive. The freedom of his space provided us with all sorts of opportunity for mischief.

That Friday, though, we were listless. And like all young males, we were horny. We had spent the evening listening to what is now considered classic rook and looking through his father's extensive Playboy collection. Although none of us had heard of jerk off sessions, and we would have all been appalled by the notion, that pretty much encapsulates the evening.

Chris was in a chair at the far end of the room looking at a centerfold with his hand discretely out of sight. Scott was on his bed with his hand buried deep in his shorts, obviously rubbing. A dank, close smell filled the room. One or more of us had already cum.

I was sitting on the floor with my back to the wall admiring an African American beauty with a thick dark bush--it was the late seventies. The thick dense tangle of hair captivated me. My erection was painful and wet. But I was the shy one of the group. So I was not about to begin masturbating with them in the same room. Plus, Scott had no compunction about hypocrisy. He would surely call me out if he felt the inclination.

After awhile, the sight of that generous promising tangle of hair was too much to bear, so I quietly headed off to the bathroom, making the lame excuse of needing to pee.

It was late, well past midnight. And my briefs were soaked with precum and an earlier ejaculation. As I left the room, Scott shouted at me to use the other bathroom--the bathroom closer to the main part of the house; the one in the addition was not working.

So as quietly as I could I made my way to the bathroom down the hallway from his brothers' and parents' rooms. I was nervous. Hesitant. But I had been looking at pussy and smelling sex for a few hours; I was desperate for relief of any sort--despite the risk.

Easing the door shut, I quickly settled onto the lid of the toilet and released my aching cock. It was covered, slimed, from pre cum. Like I said, we had been at it quite a while. Staring at those dark nipples and hairy pussy, I began stroking as quietly as I could, stifling moans.

The sticky precum had been replaced by a slick new coat when the door opened and Scott's mom stepped in.

She was in the bathroom with the door shut before she registered my presence and what I was doing. She stopped for a moment and stared at my hand wrapped around my furious erection and then smiled. "Oh, John. Really?"

Mrs. Green must have been in her late 40s early 50s at the time. She was not an unattractive woman with large swaying tits and broad hips. Her thin nightgown did little to hide the shadow between her legs. Her tits swayed heavily. Later I would realize that it was out of character for her to be wandering around in such a revealing nightie. Late at night, on the few occasions I had seen her, she usually was wearing a robe because her sons' friends were often lounging around the house.

For a moment, I could not take my eyes away from the dark shadow under the gown.

"John?" Startled, I looked up and began to apologize. But before I could say anything she told me, "Hush. And move over. I need to use the toilet." Once I had stood a bit to the side, she moved by me and settled on the toilet, while I stood, foolishly with my wilting erection still in my hand listening to her pee.

"Thank you sweetie. I wasn't sure that I would make it." She smiled and then looked again at my softening cock. "You really should learn to lock the door."

When I started to apologize again, she shushed me again. "Boys will be boys," she said as she looked over at the open and stained Playboy lying on the floor. She was quiet a moment before asking, "You like that black girl?" I wasn't sure how to answer, but she did not wait for one. "Her breasts are firm," she added.

Unlike my friends, I was still a virgin. Besides a few quick handjobs that had ended in sudden and embarrassing ejaculations, my sexual encounters had been limited to porn magazines. Pictures and Penthouse letters. I had no idea how to handle this situation or how to escape--if I had wanted to escape. So I stood there, silent, holding my cock. When I did realize that it was still out and that Scott's mom had finished, I began to pull up my briefs and shorts.

But she interrupted me, "You didn't answer. Do you like her because she is dark or because she is nude."

"Both I guess" was the only brilliant reply I was able to muster.

She continued, watching me, not breaking eye contact. "I was just wondering because men have different preferences. Some men like blonde women. Women with blonde bushes." After a pause, she added, "Like mine."

Nodding, I asked her stupidly and without thought, "Oh. You do?"

Looking back I realize that was the response she expected and prompted. Smiling at me, she said yes, as she slowly deliberately slid her gown up her thighs exposing a thick patch of blonde pubic hair. Again experience and hindsight being what they are, I now realize why she had to pee late at night and why the hair seemed matted in spots.

"Do you like that?" she asked, staring at me as she slightly spread her legs.

I nodded which was unnecessary. My cock had begun to stiffen again, and she noticed. It was hanging in her face.

"I'm sorry, honey. I can't help you. But you can go ahead and finish while I watch. If you don't mind. Show me how you do it." She had begun to absently rub herself, and for the first time I noticed the outline of her nipples against the shrift. "I want to see you cum."

Staring, my mouth dry, I began stroking again, quietly, intensely staring down at her and that blonde pussy. "Good boy," she whispered. "Yes, let it out. Jerk it." By then my legs were spread and I was stroking faster, harder, and more intently. "Cum for me." I had not noticed her lean forward to watch as precum slid from the slit down my cut head.

"You have a gorgeous cock, sweetheart," she whispered before leaning to lick the head. I gasped and immediately came. Hard, shooting a rope and a second rope of cum in her face.

I was horrified. But she laughed, "In for a penny in for a pound," grabbing the shaft roughly and beginning to stroke, milk it. Stammering, I tried to apologize, when she hushed me again. Staring at my dick, as if mesmerized, she manipulated it and stroked it until it began to harden a second or third time--something I was able to do at the time. Once it was erect, she slipped it into her mouth, sucking the head as she did.

Grabbing my balls she moaned as she swirled the head with her tongue, gently nipping at the foreskin. I ran my hands over and through her disheveled hair, pushing her head into me as I began to pump her mouth. Her moans made me more aggressive as she squirmed on the toilet seat.

I did not last much longer than the first time, and when she felt me begin to spasm she reached to clench my ass, holding me in her mouth as I came the second time. Sucking at the head as I came, she milked it.

Finishing, she looked up at me, wiping her mouth. "There you go. I don't even do that for Steve. Now, get back to bed, and next time lock the door." I looked at her one more time before pulling my briefs and shorts and heading back to Scott's room.

The next morning at breakfast, she said nothing. I didn't even get an extra serving of pancakes. But apparently that night she had decided that I was her pet project.