Story Time with Miss Z

As we took the last item--an end table--over to the dining room, I asked if I could see the new carpet on Monday night after work and then help her put her furniture back in place.

We set the table down, and she replied, "Would you, Ben?"

"Sure thing."

"Oh, that would please me so--to have everything put right tomorrow! Yes!" she enthusiastically replied. "Yes--and thank you for being so dear. What time can you make it?"

"Just prep work for me back at my dad's warehouse tomorrow, so--five or six? Call it six o'clock."

"Perfect. And you don't mind?"

"I like helping you, Miss Z."

She stepped around the small table toward me, shaking her head as if I were still her wayward student. She took my face in her hands and kissed me on the lips. "I think after what transpired on Friday night," she said, "you may call me Ashley."

"Okay," I replied, swallowing a hard lump because she was so excitingly beautiful, and I had no idea if I could suppress my veneration enough to call her by her given name.

"The pizza will be here any minute now. Let's sit in the kitchen," she suggested.

I followed and we sat in her small dinette around a table for two. She reached across the tabletop and took one of my hands in both of hers. Rubbing gently, she said, "I wanted to ask you how you felt about Friday night--what happened between us."

I opened my mouth, but she went on. "Before you say anything, I want you to know that, though I may have been a little tipsy that night, everything that happened was by choice. I enjoyed it, and I had a lovely time with you, but if you're not comfortable with what happened, I'll understand. Did you feel coerced at all, Ben? Did you feel like I made you do anything?"

"No. Miss Z, please don't--. I liked it. I'm like you," I insisted, "I wanted it--a lot. I want to be your boyfriend--."

Her lips parted. Her eyes opened wide, and she drew back from me. Alarms went off inside my head. She didn't like the idea. I had gone too far, too fast.

But, the astonishment on her face melted into a brilliant smile. "Boyfriend!" she whispered with wonder, and her voice sounded like it was a word from long ago she'd only just remembered. "And you want me to be--," she hesitated. Again, it felt like she was remembering when she finished, saying, "--to be your girlfriend?"

I nodded. It was an impossible dream, but the idea of it was too exhilarating to resist. "If you--I mean, if you don't already have one," I stammered. "A boyfriend, that is."

Laughing briefly, she said, "I don't. And you're not back together with Kacey?"

"No."

A look of concern grew in her eyes. "Ben--." She never finished because her doorbell rang. "That must be the pizza, dear. Let me get it."

"Can I help--?"

"No, thank you, Ben. Please wait here." She grabbed a small red purse from the kitchen counter and went to the front door. Not long after, she returned with a medium pizza, saying, "I hope you like cheese."

"Sure I do."

"Perfect."

We ate at the table. She apologized for not chatting with me while we ate, explaining that in her family, conversations only took place at the table before and after eating. I didn't mind, though I had to be very careful about my table manners to eat quietly. After my second piece, I decided I liked not having to talk. What started out as uneasy became almost comforting. I could focus on the taste of the food and enjoy it more. I ate a third piece before helping her clear the dishes and resuming our places at the table.

"Delicious pizza, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah. I've never had Carlo's before."

"We love it around here."

"Can see why," I said truthfully.

A framed picture of Miss Z and a young woman on the beach caught my attention. She saw me looking, fetched it, and handed it to me. "That's my niece. Her name is Allison."

The niece, probably in her mid-twenties, smiled in her sunglasses, wide-brimmed hat, and swim shirt. She had long blonde hair like Miss Z. Miss Z, beside her, was in a navy blue bikini. I couldn't quit looking at her body.

"Not one I keep at school--for obvious reasons," she said.

"You look great. You always look great." When I said these words, I glanced at her, and her eyes were already on mine. She wanted to say something. I set the picture aside.

"Ben, I appreciate that you want to be my--my boyfriend. I do, but don't you think your family wouldn't like it? Don't you think people wouldn't understand it if they saw us in public on a date?"

"I don't care. I like you."

"And I adore you, Ben, but people might think I'm your mother. I'm old enough to be. If people from school saw us together, they might jump to conclusions. I could lose my job."

"But I'd tell them the truth."

"I know you would, but still--." She didn't finish.

"So--" I began, not even sure what I wanted to say. Eventually, the words just came to me. I said, "So, you're breaking up with me on our first date?"

Her lovely eyebrows came together in what looked like a mixture of confusion and regret. "Is that what this is to you? Our first date?"

In truth, I never thought of my coming to her home as a date, but at that moment, I liked the idea of it. I nodded.

"Oh, Ben," she murmured sympathetically. "'Boyfriend,' 'girlfriend,' 'breaking-up'--I just--. You have to understand these things haven't been a part of my life since I was just a girl."

"You haven't had a boyfriend since you were a girl?"

Miss Z hesitated before saying, "Let's please just talk about us, dear."

"Okay," I said. "I like you and want you to be my girlfriend. Will you?"

"Ben!" she exclaimed, shaking her head, but she stopped when she saw me waiting for an answer. Her mouth opened; then it closed. She stared at me for a moment, and then she asked, "Is that what you really want?"

I had a history of taking things too far, but maybe, I thought, she liked that about me. Audacity. Grand gestures. Fuck it. I rose and stepped around the table to her. On my knees, I moved between hers. Looking up, I said, "Be my girlfriend. Please?"

Tilting her head back, she laughed with uninhibited joy. When she turned back to me, still mirthful, her hands gently cradled my face. "Oh, my sweet boy," she sighed. Then, she looked at me and shook her head as if in amazement. "Have it your way, then. Yes, I'll be your girlfriend, and you're my boyfriend, and this is our first date."

I shot to my feet and swept Miss Z's body into my arms. She screamed in delight, and I jogged with her into the empty family room, turning circles on the old carpet and singing "Happy" but with the lyrics, "Clap along if she said yes to being my new girlfriend." My song brought on fresh shrieks of laughter from her.

Before either of us got dizzy, I stopped spinning. Miss Z said, "I want my boyfriend to kiss me." I curled my right arm to bring her lips closer and gave her what she wanted. She drew back. "I knew you were strong, but this--," she said, gesturing to me carrying her in my arms. "Could you carry me up those stairs?"

I spun, found the stairs, and went to them. She gasped. I turned us sideways and carefully ascended without bonking her head against anything. "Oh, my," she uttered as I carried her. At the top landing, Miss Z said, "Straight ahead is my bedroom." I went to the door. She opened it for me, and as I entered a space filled with pictures and memories hanging from the walls, Miss Z used her feet to take off her shoes. "Put me on the bed," she murmured.

I did. It was a four-poster queen with lots of fluffy, different-shaped blue pillows. Standing beside her, I watched her sit up against the pillows and snuggle into them. She reached out, and I held her hand. She squeezed mine gently, and said, "I know it's only our first date, my sweet, but would you undress so that I can admire your body?"

Something in the way she asked told me not to race but take it slow. Another instinct told me not to turn it into a show--to be myself and do it naturally. So I removed everything naturally, and as each article came off, I set them neatly on a chair at the foot of her bed--shoes, socks, shirt, belt, shorts, and finally, my boxer briefs.

"Ben," she said, "did you--? Come closer please."

Miss Z blinked several times. Her eyes seemed glassy. Something wasn't right. The minute I was beside her, she pushed herself up and, placing her hand on my tummy, gently but firmly pushed me away. "Oh, my goodness," she gasped, still blinking.

"What?"

"Did you put cologne on your--?" She didn't complete the question. Her face took on a look of remembrance. Then, she looked over at me. Suddenly, peals of her laughter filled the room. She fell back against the pillows wheezing and holding her tummy. Her face went pink. Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Ben!" she cried. More screaming laughter erupted from her.

I stepped back from the bed, growing not a little bit uncomfortable.

When she saw this, she said, "No! Dear, no!" She quickly climbed out and hugged me. "Don't be ashamed. You--you wanted to smell nice for me is all. It was thoughtful and sweet, but you just--you simply put far too much--." She began laughing again, but her eyes found mine--to make sure I was okay with the joke, I guessed.

I was, grinning a bit sheepishly.

Miss Z hugged me again, kissing my cheek. "Come," she said, still giggling, "let's get you in the shower." She held my hand and led me into her bathroom. It was jack and jill-style, with a door on the opposite side leading to what I assumed to be a guest bedroom. The vanity and toilet faced one another to my right; the tub shower was on my left.

Miss Z pulled aside the curtain for me, and I stepped in. Then, she gasped. Her hand snapped over her mouth, and she stepped back, eyes wide and face turning bright red. I turned to where she was looking.

There was a black dildo in the far corner of the tub.

"Oh, don't look, Ben! I--." No more words came out, only a sound--a very feminine moan of what seemed like disappointment and shame.

But, inspiration struck. I got down on my knees in the tub and turned toward the dildo. Reaching for it and deliberately missing it--twice grabbing air--I quoted Macbeth, saying in my best stuffy thespian accent, "Is this a dagger which I see before me--the handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee."

Miss Z liked it. After a second of what appeared to be confusion, she went from deep shame to sidesplitting glee. I must have looked and sounded pretty silly reenacting that moment from the play. Doubled over, Miss Z shook, holding the edge of the vanity top, and her laughter grew so hearty that it became a near silent wheeze. Every few seconds when she snatched a breath, out came a scream of hilarity. I knew this laugh well. It was my favorite thing in the world.

"Oh, Ben!" she eventually cried. "That was--I loved it!" More laughter.

I shrugged. Then, I turned on the shower and waited for the water to get warm. When Miss Z managed to collect herself, I passed the dildo to her, saying, "I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend." She grinned, took it from me, and kissed me on the lips.

Ten minutes later, I was standing in her bedroom, wrapped in a towel. Miss Z was under her covers, and her shoulders were bare. "Should I use your blow-dryer?"

"You're dry enough. Take off that towel and come to my bed."

I did, climbing over and sliding under the covers beside her. Feeling her bare arm against mine, her bare leg against mine--wow. My cock awakened.

She spun toward me, serious. "Thank you for your sense of humor about my special toy."

"It was nothing. You were embarrassed, and I didn't want you to be."

"Why do you like me, Ben? Why not some girl your own age?"

I shrugged. "You're way better than the girls my age. They're not more beautiful than you. They're not sexier. They don't--," I thought about it before finishing. "They don't know themselves like you do. You know what you want and how you want to be. It's cool to be with someone like that." I put my hand on her hip, and the feeling yanked a groan out of me.

"What?"

"Oh, my gosh, that's amazing--your hip."

"Why?"

"You have them. You have a woman's body. I love this," I said, indicating what I meant by sweeping my fingers from the low point of her waist, up and over the roll of her hip, and down, finally, along the steady, smooth line of her thigh.

"Does my body give you an erection?"

I nodded.

"Will you show me?"

I pulled down the sheet, and Miss Z sighed when she saw it. It helped my confidence that I compared pretty dang favorably against her dildo.

"It's a lovely penis you have, Ben. May I hold it?"

I nodded, and when she reached for it, the covers slid down, exposing two enormous bulges of tan flesh divided by an impossibly long line of cleavage. Her nipples remained hidden. Miss Z saw me staring. "You like them?" she asked.

Her fingers wrapped around my cock when I nodded, and another groan escaped me. Clearing my throat, I added, "A lot."

"You may touch them."

Understand I had to apply the maximum of my willpower not to instantly seize and grope them roughly. I slid one hand toward her under the covers. My fingers touched her flesh well before I anticipated the contact. Big. Yeah. I cupped one and lifted it. Softness there. Warmth. And such mass! The pad of my thumb encountered her nipple.

I had to see it. I let the tit sag against the other and peeled down the sheet. Miss Z giggled airily at my expression. I looked at her, and she grinned brightly, approving my reaction to seeing her uncovered tits.

Her nipples were almost flat-topped and pink, but what astonished me was how far they projected from the crest of her breasts. The color of the skin faded as it moved away from the peak, blending smoothly into the caramel of her tan. It was difficult to tell where the breast ended and the areolae began.

"What do you--," I started and stopped.

"Go ahead, Ben."

"What do you do when they get hard like this?" I asked, staring at her nipples. "At school, I mean."

"Oh," she sighed, "Yes, that could be a problem, couldn't it? But no, they make specially padded bras for women like me."

I swallowed, still transfixed.

"Would you like to suck on them, Ben? It would be lovely if you did."

"Yeah."

Her hand swept into the hair on the back of my head, and she gently encouraged me toward the upper tit. I helped myself the rest of the way, closing my lips around a nipple as thick as my thumb. It was rigid but tender. There was no discernible flavor to it, but the faint smell of her perfume gave the impression of a mellow, fruity taste. I liked the soft cracks and crinkles I felt on my tongue as I perused it. Finally, I cradled it with my tongue, secured my lips to the flesh around it, and delicately sucked.

Miss Z hummed softly. Her hand quit caressing my cock; she grabbed it and very slowly stroked the length. "This is so wonderful," she cooed.

I released the nipple and sought out the other, lower one. It was much the same, but the heft of the one above it rested on my cheek, and it was like being buried in soft, heavenly tits. I drew off and whispered, "It's like a vision made real."

"Is it, Ben? Have you dreamed about my breasts?"

I nodded, sucking again.

"Tell me, my sweet," she murmured, running her fingers through my hair. I broke the suction and glanced up at her. She nodded. "Tell me another one of your sexual fantasies about me."

Swallowing, I began. "You're at your desk before school, working. You're looking over one of my papers on your laptop, and you call me over to point something out." While I spoke, my lips tickled her nipple because I didn't want to move. I wanted it there for my mouth whenever I needed it.

"And you come up? You come up behind me? Look over my shoulder?"

"Yeah, and you smell really good--your hair is right there. It kind of rolls down your back, and I want to touch it."

"Do you touch me?"

"I move closer a little to make it seem like I can't see what you're pointing out on the screen, and when I do, I put my hand on your back as if to steady myself, but what I really want--."

"--Is to touch my hair," she finished for me. "What do I do?"

"You let me. And your hair feels so silky that I run my fingers down it and again. You quit talking about my paper, and you say my name."

"Do I turn to you or stare ahead?"

"You turn in your chair."

"And our faces?"

"Close," I murmur.

"Do you kiss me or do I kiss you?"

"You tell me what I'm doing feels nice, and then we kiss."

"Oh, Ben," she whispered, stroking me more firmly now. "Are you erect then?"

"Yeah."

"Do you touch me?"

"Your ti--breasts," I said, "I put my hand on one and I squeeze it. Then I take the other, and we're kissing, and I'm massaging your breasts, and they feel amazing."

"Do I give you pleasure, too?"

I'm unable to resist the nipple anymore. I nurse on it gently. Miss Z's hand continues its slow, tight stroke.

"Tell me, my sweet. Please."

Drawing off the nipple, I say, "You end the kiss and have me stand up straight."

"Oh!" Miss Z gasped, "I see your erection, don't I?" The pace of her handjob ramped up.

"Yeah." I began to feel warm.

"And do I take it out?"

"Yes."

"And I suck on it? I suck on your penis, Ben?" she asked, and her voice was low and filled with excitement. "Tell me, please." Her stroking grew almost to a frenzy.

"Yeah," I groaned, and my body was an overcharged battery, rippling with power.

"Oh, my sweet, and you ejaculate in my mouth?"

I grunted.

"Ben!" she urgently huffed. "Bring it closer to me! Come up here and let me see your penis ejaculate on my breasts. Ben, quickly, dear!"

Her hand released me, and I shoved myself to my knees. Miss Z rolled onto her back, and I scooted closer. She grabbed my cock and aimed it at the nearest nipple. Her hand became a blur of motion.

When the first jet burst forth, Miss Z gasped with joy. I watched the fluid drench her nipple. The smile on her face made my climax rocket to a level of pleasure I hadn't ever thought possible. My mind romping, I barely noticed the subsequent spurts fleck and sheet her tits with cum.

"Oh, Ben!" she sighed, and her stroking relaxed. "Oh!"

Gasping for air, I sagged onto my heels, and Miss Z asked if I had ever masturbated to that fantasy.

I nodded, chuffing air.

"And you brought yourself to completion, imagining me?"

"Yes."

"Ben, oh my sweet boy, thank you," she murmured, turning away and glancing at her chest. "And look at how lovely your semen looks on my breasts."

I looked.

She was admiring them, dabbing a finger in the fluid and spreading it around. Suddenly, she quit. She looked up at me and said, shyly, "Now don't judge me too harshly that I did that on our first date."

I smiled; she laughed.

I sank into bed beside her, watching her play with my semen and her nipples. I reminded her about what happened between us after the Carnival, even before our first date. "How should I judge you about that?" I kidded her.

"Let it be a fit of lust, my sweet. On a dark night, two people met up, and their bodies and souls charmed one another's. And their passions burned so brightly that they could see a path to becoming lovers."

"Is that from a story?" I asked.

"It is now."

Miss Z had me fetch a warm, damp washcloth. I cleaned her tits, and then she cleaned my cock. Afterward, she had me lay on my back, and she snuggled close to me.

I asked her if she would let me touch her between her legs.

She smiled and sighed. "Oh, Ben, you mustn't. And I wish I could tell you that I'm too much of a prude for such a thing on a first date, but you would know differently, wouldn't you?"

I looked at her, confused but smiling at a jest that, for the moment, eluded me.