Spring 1971: Carol's Mom

Mrs. Elliot's right hand came around me and started squeezing my ass in time with her oral efforts, as her left hand began rubbing me in the area between the base of my shaft and where my balls began. I started getting the feeling of something waking up inside of me, much to my disbelief.

The feeling suddenly increased tenfold when the fingers that had been squeezing my butt cheeks suddenly slipped in between them. I lurched backward as I felt her stubby finger poking around my asshole. Mrs. Elliot probed roughly as my cock surged back to life between her lips, soon becoming as hard as a rock again.

I looked down at Mrs. Elliot, her head thrusting savagely up and down my cock, which had taken on an almost purplish hue after what had to be fifteen minutes of non-stop sucking. It felt so incredible I felt I had to say something.

"Ohhhh god, Mrs. El... sorry, Virginia. That feels so good!" I exclaimed, gasping again as her free hand began churning my balls roughly.

Mrs. Elliot looked up at me as she pulled up off my cock momentarily, and she smiled, but she looked strange. Almost like she was a totally different person.

Then it hit me. As she went back to sucking my engorged member, I looked down on the floor next to her knees. It was a surreal moment, as I saw her dentures sitting next to her smiling at me. I was disgusted for a second, but was brought back to earth by the incredible sensation her mouth was bringing to me, and I tried to put that vision out of my mind.

I had no time to think much more about this turn of events, as Mrs. Elliot struggled to her feet, and brought me over to the kitchen table. She brought me over in a rather unusual way; as I was dragged over there with my cock in her hand, pants and underwear at my ankles, and moving like a prisoner in leg irons.

She pulled her stretch pants and panties down and pushed a kitchen chair away from the table, bending over it. Her pale ass was staring back at me, the butt cheeks sagging a little before her positioning tightened things up. No words were exchanged, as I guess I was expected to know what to do next.

I did, sort of. Cock in hand, I came up between her legs and ran it around down there. I soon felt the head of my cock rubbing into wet hair, so I took the chance and rammed in.

A classic case of the blind squirrel finding the nut here, as a lucky shot was all it was. I felt my dick slip into a moist opening that was a little tighter than I had expected. Mrs. Elliot groaned as I forced myself into her and began thrusting into her hard. She fell onto the table from the force of my efforts, and was soon grabbing onto the green vinyl tablecloth for dear life.

I wanted to reach down and hold onto those collosal tits of hers, but they were mashed under her on the table. My hands slid up and ran through the thick jungle of hair under her arms, amusing myself as I pounded away. The ticking of the clock on the wall above the table, my body slapping into Mrs. Elliot's rump and her guttural grunts in reaction to my thrusts were almost timed perfectly.

I felt Mrs. Elliot's pussy contract around my dick, and seconds later she let out a wail of delight. Her hands clenched the tablecloth, almost yanking the thing clean off, and I watched helplessly as a little sugar bowl fell off the other side, breaking when it hit the floor.

Mrs. Elliot paid no mind, however, so what did I care? I kept humping away into her, watching drops of sweat fly off of me and land on the chalky white skin of her back. I noticed for the first time she had a small Betty Boop tattoo on the back of her shoulder, now faded with age, and my mind tried to picture her when she had that done. I wondered if she thought while that was being done that decades later some goofy teenager would be looking at it while screwing her as she was bent over her kitchen table.

I heard Mrs. Elliot started moaning again, and the table started lurching harder as I tried to get her to orgasm again, hoping the sound of it would help me cum as well. Her pussy clenched around my dick once again, not as intensely as the first time, as I tried to join her. Her pussy was sloppy wet at this stage of the encounter, and it was getting tough to keep this thing going.

Looking over toward the refrigerator, as the sound of the motor coming on startled me a little, I saw a picture of Carol held up by a magnet. What if she came in and saw me slamming my cock into her mom like this? What would she say? If they sat around talking about a guy's dick, who knows what she would say about this?

For whatever reason, that scenario brought me to orgasm rather quickly, and I shot my load into Mrs. Elliot. Not nearly as wonderful an orgasm as the first one, but good enough for me.

My cock fell out of Mrs. Elliot soon after, and after I pulled my sweaty self off of her and we pulled our clothes back on, I helped her clean up the mess we had created. We did this in silence, neither of us able to find the right words to say now. I said goodbye and went back next door, leaving the Arlo album behind forever, but taking away some wonderful memories that have remained fresh in my mind even after all these years.

Epilogue.

I broke up with Carol a few weeks after this adventure, or maybe she broke up with me. I can't recall, and I guess it really doesn't matter now, does it?

Mrs. Elliot and I remained cordial after that, but there was never a repeat performance of that crazy afternoon. I never spoke of it to anyone except my best friend Kenny, until now that is. I think maybe I was ashamed of what had happened and who I had done it with, but for the life of me I don't know why.

Mrs. Elliot's family moved away a couple of years later, the whole crew splitting up after she broke it off with her husband. I was a junior in college at that point, and Carol had a baby and was rumored to be knocked up for a second time by then. Apparently her vow of celibacy ended soon after I did.

I spoke to Mrs. Elliot just before they moved out, wishing her and the rest of them well. I called her Virginia that day, as I did ever since our afternoon together.

Just before she turned away, she apologized to me for that day. She said she always felt guilty about taking advantage of me like she had, and blamed it on experiencing a bit of problem with alcohol during that time.

I feigned surprise about that revelation, told her that she was being silly, and that I looked upon it as a wonderful experience, and something that I would always remember, which it was. She seemed relieved and happy to hear that, and I was glad we parted that way.

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This is the end of "Spring 1971 : Carol's Mom". I hope you enjoyed it, and I thank you for reading it. As always, your comments are welcomed and appreciated.