The Widow Parsons

Betty stepped up closer to him, trying to give him the message of what was expected now.

Chris noticed the movement, her scent becoming stronger, and he turned his attention to her cunt.

Whoa! His dick swelled and twitched at the sight of the soft, wavy thick feminine folds winding their way through the dark thicket of curly pussy hair. He felt he even detected feminine moisture glistening on the soft pink flesh.

This was a cunt; a woman's cunt, just a couple of inches from his eyes. Of course, he had seen it earlier, but not like this, not right in front of his eyes ready for him to, to...service. He breathed in her scent. It wasn't bad, but it was certainly raw and funky.

He hadn't been expecting that he would have to do this but, of course, he couldn't really refuse, not after she put her mouth on him. He so hoped that it wouldn't taste all fishy or icky. He felt guilty for even thinking that, but he couldn't take back the thought. Plus, what was he supposed to do? A real man should be able to please a woman this way, and this was a real woman, with a husband who probably satisfied her, this way; many, many times.

He wished he knew what to do. But, then again, how complicated could this really be? He was reminded of the first time he tried to ride a bike. He had assumed that his dad was going to help him but, as usual, his father was apparently too busy. His dad had always been too busy. Did dads ever help their sons with women? They must provide some amount of advice on how to treat a woman, what to do on a date. In any case, he did finally realize that you just had to jump on the bike and work it out, trial by error. He crushed his face against Mrs. Parsons' squishy, fleshy, wet cunt.

Betty was jarred by the force of his sudden charge, her hips colliding with the kitchen counter behind her. "Wait, wait," she urged the young man, gently but firmly pushing his face away. She softly, patiently suggested, "Let me show you, Christopher."

She parted her thighs, just a bit, opening them up to provide clearer instruction. She looped her fingers over the lips of her cunt, and then pulled them apart, and open.

Chris' eyes widened with interest, and salacious thirst, as he gazed upon the internal flesh of Mrs. Parsons' cunt. Now, this is how a sex ed class should be taught. He was struck at how wet, fleshy, and pink she was inside. Of course, that was how the inside of a cunt should appear, but until one sees it for the first time one doesn't really have a true appreciation for its appeal.

Mrs. Parsons let go with one hand, albeit pulling the other lips open even wider as she tried to draw Christopher's attention to key points. "Now, right here," she instructed, pointing toward the lower part, "is my vaginal opening. This is where you would put your penis."

Chris didn't say anything. He felt pretty darned silly, as he knew where it was; well, at least pretty much. He stared intently, studying it. He wondered how tight it might be.

Betty wasn't sure if he was following her. "Do you see it, Christopher?"

"Yes, yes, ma'am, yes, definitely." He reached down to take hold of his cock, wrapping her panties around the shaft, imagining what it would be like to have his dick press its way deep down into that soft, wet, squishy, tight hole. It had to be so nice, so very, very nice. He gave his dick a hard squeeze through her soft feminine panties.

Betty asked quietly, "Perhaps, someday, Christopher, if you're a very, very good boy. I'll let you put your big hard penis in there."

'Fuck!' Chris said to himself, stroking his cock with her panties.

"Farther up is where I, well..." She lowered her voice, "pee." She added, "you see, a woman doesn't use the same hole for both...unlike a man."

'Interesting,' he thought. Women are in so many ways neater and cleaner than guys. Chris had a very perverse thought of having Mrs. Parsons pee right then on him, feeling a hot wet spray from her dirty hole splashing onto his face, and then quickly dismissed it as being so terribly perverse. Yes, guys can be pretty dirty and nasty. He had just proved that himself with such a disgusting thought.

"And, then," she added, "even farther up is my clitoris." She pointed right at it so that he couldn't miss it. "See the little nubbie, peeking out from beneath its pink hood? It's like my own very little special penis."

Chris didn't care much for thinking about it like that, particularly if she wanted him to put his lips and tongue on it.

"It's important, Christopher, to give due to attention to this part of the girl. I mean, well, of course, it isn't nearly as much fun for you as her little tight hole, but believe me, she'll let you know how much she appreciated it."

Chris tore his eyes away to look up at hers, past again those monstrous round boobs jutting out from her chest. "Oh yeah, sure Mrs. Parsons, I know that."

Betty figured he did probably know, but it was a point that was worth emphasizing with a young man. Boys did have a tendency to get rather self-absorbed during sex. She suggested, "Christopher, why don't you trying putting a couple of fingers up inside my, um..." It seemed so odd to refer to it as a cunt or hole when speaking to the boy..."vagina," but as soon as she said that she realized that 'vagina' was much too technical. She added, "my...cunt."

"Sure, Mrs. Parsons," Chris immediately agreed. He shifted her panties and his dick from his right to his left hand, and began to work a couple of fingers up inside.

Betty smiled as the boy worked hard to get his fingers inside. It was far from romantic, and certainly not sensuous in any sort of traditional way as Chris awkwardly pressed and squirmed his fingers up inside. But, the clumsy, reckless, and impatient effort did have its own charm, its own endearing appeal.

She squirmed and wriggled her hips to help the young man screw his fingers up inside. Frankly, she was pleased to see that they didn't slide up real easily, meeting no resistance whatsoever. But, most of all, she was very, very pleased to feel the fingers of a young man once again working their up her yearning, steaming cunt. One cannot turn back time, but it did seem rather reminiscent of the first time that Jack finger-fucked her. It had also been comparably clumsy, yet so fucking intense.

Chris was impressed at how tight Mrs. Parsons was. He had to wriggle, writhe, and worm his fingers. His cock would feel so, so good up there. He urgently massaged his dick with his other hand. It wasn't that easy to stroke his cock with his left hand, wrapped in Mrs. Parsons' panties, but he more than managed.

Betty softly suggested, "Use your thumb on my clitoris, Christopher."

"Yes, ma'am," Chris as quietly replied. He was though reminded of his mother, leaning over his shoulder to give him unnecessary hints on his homework. She felt she was being helpful but he would have figured it out for himself if left to his own devices. It was really best to discover the solutions on one's own.

"Oh yes," Betty gasped as she felt Chris' thumb make contact with her nub. She let go of her cunnie lip and leaned back against the counter.

Chris was duly impressed at how quickly she responded to his touch there. Well, maybe she did have a point after all. He worked it more seriously, as he wiggled his fingers around and around in her cunt.

"That's it, that's a good boy," Betty sighed, a satisfied smile creasing her lips. Yes, it was indeed so nice having a neighbor boy come over and help out.

Chris though was having a bit of difficulty coordinating his thumb and finger movements. He wondered if perhaps he should practice this later at home. He could use his left hand on her clit, but that would mean letting go of his cock, and he most definitely didn't want to do that.

Betty though solved his problem. She reached out and lightly gripped his head in her hands, and suggested, "Your lips, Christopher," and then firmly brought his face back into, against, her cunt.

Well, apparently he had no choice. Chris slipped his thumb out of the way as he pressed his lips against her stiff little button, the earthy scent of her heated cunt filling his nostrils.

"Oh yes, Christopher," Betty gasped, feeling his lips, and then his tongue, pressing against, exploring, her inflamed clit. She only now realized how much she really missed this. A man's lips, a man's tongue, against her clit was just so very special. Her knees trembled, her toes curled.

Chris at first tried sucking on her clit, but quickly realized that probably wasn't really that stimulating for her. It did though fill his own mouth with her juices, which he gulped down. He then reverted to rubbing, nibbling, licking, and massaging, doing all that he could with everything his mouth could provide. He did really feel like he was at a pie eating contest, forced to slobber it down with just his mouth, without use of any utensils, or even his hands, just pressing his face down into Mrs. Parsons' pie, slurping and gulping away with abandon.

"So good, Christopher," Betty gasped, spreading her thighs and clasping his head more tightly with both of her hands, pressing his lips even harder against her, grinding her cunt into the young man's mouth.

Chris' fingers were still diddling within her cunt hole, caught between his face and her cunt, the other hand was working hard on his dick.

Beating off with Mrs. Parsons' panties would itself be plenty erotic enough. There was in fact one time that he witnessed her undies on a clothes line in her backyard. He had instantly developed an erection, and contemplated stealing away with one of her soft cotton panties, jerking off into them that evening, imagining that she had in fact provided them to him, perhaps even wanting them back once they were thoroughly soaked and soiled with his sloppy gism.

Well, here they were, wrapped around his dick, and at the same time his mouth, lips, and tongue were glued to her hot, wet, writhing, squirming cunt.

And, Betty was not behaving like a proper woman her age. "Oh yes, suck on Mrs. Parsons' clit, Chrissy," she groaned, squatting further, obscenely driving her cunt hard against his face, risking perhaps his life by smothering him with her inflamed juicy cunt. "Eat my fucking pie, Chrissy, eat it, eat me good!"

This was not how Chris' mother perceived Mrs. Parsons, nor anyone else in the neighborhood for that matter. Frankly, she rarely spoke that way to Jack. Somehow she felt considerably less inhibited with the young man. It was not really his place to judge her. She could just be herself.

"Oh, Chris," Betty suddenly gasped, "I'm going to, yes, I'm going, I'm going..." and then her legs began to weaken and tremble, she slumped a bit, smushing her cunt harder into Christopher's face as her body was suddenly overwhelmed by the spasms of her climax.

Chris was ecstatic. He had actually made Mrs. Parsons cum?! With his mouth?! That was just so cool! He squeezed hard on his dick as he felt her cunt quivering against his lips, and then a dizzy rush within his own mind as his dick twitched and spurted into Mrs. Parsons' panties.

Life was at times so fucking good, and this was indeed such a moment in time. How often in Chris' life will a woman as lovely as Mrs. Parsons quiver and quake her cunt on his face as he soils and spoils her panties with his spunk. Not very often, not very often at all. In fact, most likely never again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It certainly seemed that way to Betty.

Chris did not come back the next night, or the night after that, or even the night after that.

Betty considered calling him, but that seemed rather desperate for an older woman, as well as simply intrusive. It wasn't like they were dating or anything. He didn't really owe her any explanation or obligation. Plus, what if Mr. or Mrs. Hansun answered the phone?

Chris did want to come over, but his parents discovered that he apparently had not been where he said he had been during those evenings spent with Mrs. Parsons. A neighbor reported seeing Mr. Hansun's car repeatedly parked on their street, for no apparent reason. Chris had no explanation for why he was parking the car there, when he had been saying that he was going to the library. He was immediately grounded.

As his parents said, repeatedly, if he was going to live under their roof, he would have to play by their rules, and lying was far from that and was certainly not how they had raised their son. They wondered what could possibly have gotten into him, suspecting perhaps that it was due to that rowdy crowd he hung out with. They had always wondered, in particular, about Ronnie. That boy was most definitely hiding a deep, dark, terrible secret. They couldn't help but think of Eddie Haskell whenever Ron came by for a visit.

Eighteen years old and he was grounded. This was so ridiculous. He spent much of his time in his room, reading comics. What else is there to do when you're grounded, other than watching television? He particularly liked his old Wonder Woman comics. He had thought she was so hot as a kid. As he gazed upon Wonder Woman his mind though invariably went to Mrs. Parsons, and her breasts.

Chris was too embarrassed to tell Mrs. Parsons. Being grounded would make him appear so childish, so infantile. He just couldn't bring himself to call her.

Mrs. Parsons though continued to have difficulty understanding the silence. What could possibly be the reason for such an abrupt end? Did his parents find out? That was unlikely. If that was the case then she most definitely would have heard from them. Perhaps he was sick, or injured?

She was uncomfortable calling him but she could stop by for a visit, just to see if everything was okay. That would be innocent enough. She was, after all, good friends with his mother, Dorothy. Even when she wasn't masturbating her son she had in the past stopped by for visits. Frankly, no longer doing so could itself be suspicious. Dorothy was unlikely to think that the absence of a visit was because Betty was engaged in some illicit activity with her son, but she might speculate as to some other possible problem.

Betty decided to pay Mrs. Hansun, and her son, a surprise visit.

She baked another set of ginger cookies to bring with her, that would be part of the excuse for visiting. She had, on occasion in the past, brought over tasty treats. Neighbor women do like to do that for one another.

She also took a fresh shower, put on a nice comfy summer dress, and fixed her make-up and hair. It was only natural for a woman to want to look well when she visited a neighbor.

He heart raced a bit when she was at the Hansun door. She knew Christopher had probably been even more nervous the first time he visited, although he had been invited over. Betty had no idea what would happen once this door was opened.

She was though quickly reassured. Dorothy was very glad to see her, and so appreciative of the cookies.

Betty explained, "Yes, I made a batch a few days ago. Your son, Christopher, really liked them."

Mrs. Hansun was confused. "My son? He had some of your cookies a few days ago?" He hadn't said anything about visiting Mrs. Parsons.

Betty suddenly realized that perhaps Christopher hadn't even told his parents that he was visiting her. A chill ran down her spine thinking that perhaps she might have just committed a very major faux pas. "Um...well..." She didn't know what to say.

"Oh my goodness," Mrs. Hansun said, suddenly realizing, "He has been visiting you?"

"What?" Betty's heart sank.

"We grounded Christopher when we discovered that he has been lying to us about his recent whereabouts. But, he has been with you all the time? I'm so relieved!"

"What? Oh! Um, well, yes, yes, of course, he has been with me." Betty didn't understand why Dorothy was relieved by this news but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Dorothy smiled. "Goodness, and I had been speculating that he was perhaps out carousing with his hooligan friend, Ronald, doing goodness knows what. Instead, he was with you all the time."

"Yes, yes, he was with me." Betty wondered though how long it might take for Dorothy to start wondering why he was visiting her. "Yes, yes, he was helping me out. It's been so difficult, you know, without a man around the house, to help out, you know, with so many things...you know, lifting things, moving them, fixing stuff."

"Yes, of course, I understand." Dorothy had felt so bad for Betty after her husband passed away. She had at one time even suggested to Christopher that he stop by to see if there was anything he might help with. Apparently he finally got around to it. Still, she was unclear on one point. "Why didn't he just tell me?"

"Oh my, well, I must apologize for that, Dorothy," Betty tried to explain. "That was my request. I don't know, it's, well, I was just kind of embarrassed about the whole thing."

"Oh, yes, um, of course." Dorothy wasn't entirely sure what was so embarrassing about having a young man do chores around the house but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was so happy that she didn't really have anything to worry about. Not only was he not doing anything wrong, he was doing good work for a needy widowed neighbor.

"Christopher!" Dorothy called out. "Come down here! Mrs. Parsons is here, and she's brought you some cookies!"

Chris' ears perked up. Mrs. Parsons was here?! He immediately yelled back, "Sure, mom, yeah!" What was she doing here? "I'll be right down!" He tossed his comic aside and quickly made his way to his mother, and apparently Mrs. Parsons.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her, his dick instantly beginning to swell, like Pavlov's dog, a conditioned reaction to her sight, to the scent of her perfume, and to the fact that he hadn't seen her for some time and, most of all, she just looked so fucking hot. She was wearing a thin summer dress. It didn't have much cleavage but it snugly gift-wrapped her humongous boobs, revealing virtually every curve and valley. It was like the dress was painted on. Plus, it was rather short, showing off her womanly white thighs. He wondered what underwear she had on underneath. His dick continued to grow in his briefs as he recalled his face being crushed against her wet, fleshy, juicy, sloppy cunt. "Mrs. Parsons?"

"Don't you worry," Betty quickly replied, before he said anything that might complicate her ruse. "I've told your mother everything."

"Everything?!" Now, that couldn't be true, could it? Wow, imagine if your mother gave you permission to be jerked off by a pretty neighbor woman. Now, that would be one cool mother, but he well knew that his own mother would never dream of such a thing.

"Yes, yes, I told her how you have been coming over to my house, helping out with things, and that I asked you to make it our little secret. I am sorry, Christopher. I never realized that it might actually get you into some sort of trouble. Really, I am sorry. I do so apologize."

"Look Christopher," Mrs. Hansun interjected, "she brought you some cookies. She said you liked her ginger cookies."

"Oh yeah, yeah, sure, yeah I do." He reached out for a couple, his dick becoming uncomfortably hard within his tight briefs. He might hereafter always get at least a bit stiff at the taste of ginger cookies, reminding him of Mrs. Parsons sucking him off as he gobbled on the sweet morsel.

"Well, I must say," Dorothy added, "I'm just so relieved and really so proud of you, Christopher, helping out Mrs. Parsons like that." She was really beaming with pride. "You feel free to visit her any time you want from now on, Christopher."

Well, that was certainly helpful. "Sure, mom." Maybe he could help her out this evening? He wondered if his mother noticed how hot Mrs. Parsons looked in that snug, short, thin dress. Do other women notice that sort of thing?