Whistling Past the Graveyard

Whistling Past the Graveyard: The Saga of a Young Man

Chapter One: Mrs. Jones' Surprise

The memory I have of my first real sexual encounter includes a ride by car to a distant city, and by "sexual encounter," I mean real sex with a real woman, a woman with whom I had done some pretty amazing things, things that were only stuff of a young guy's dreams, a few days earlier. It was a ride with neighbors whose son I had been a friend of since I had any memory. We were going to the big city for the first time and were very excited about it. My friend's parents had offered to take us if we agreed to behave like the good young guys of eighteen that we were. That may be a little naïve by today's standards, but back in the day, guys of eighteen who grew up in the country were naïve in most respects. There was no mention of my friend's mother behaving, thank god.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones were longtime friends of my parents. They got together on a regular basis for card games and just sitting around and talking. At least that's what my naïve brain thought that was all they were up to. The trip to the cities made me reassess my thoughts about that.

It was a four-hour drive to the city where we planned to spend the weekend. We would stay at a motel and look around during the day. The motel was new to me as well; I had never stayed in one. The very thought was exotic.

When we left my neighbor's house, it was already late afternoon. We would reach the city after dark. Mr. Jones had worked all day, but insisted on driving. Mrs. Jones sat up front with him with Sam and me in the back. Now, let me tell you about the Joneses.

Mrs. Jones, Anne, was about forty, slim with large breasts -- I paid excessively much attention to them -- blond hair which she wore long, and was, in my humble opinion, the sexiest woman I had ever laid eyes on. Her image was what I masturbated to on the twice-daily basis that I masturbated. Mr. Jones was balding with a slight belly and a great sense of humor; I liked him, but I loved his wife.

Mrs. Jones was the center of my thoughts since I turned about sixteen and sex became an obsession. Since I saw her on an almost daily basis, she set the standard for what a woman should be: plump but not too plump, big tits -- that's what her son Sam and I called them in our many conversations about women -- blondish hair that reached her shoulders, and, most important, a big smile. She served as the image in my horny brain as a masturbated several times each day.

Since I was at the Jones house almost every day, I had become a fixture. It was as if I could walk in like one of the family, but I generally didn't just walk in unless it was warm out and the door was open. On this day, I did just that, expecting to find Sam at home. I heard someone inside and the door was open, so I opened the screen and announced myself. What I was met with I hadn't prepared for.

Mrs. Jones walked out of a bedroom wearing only a thin robe. She was just cinching the belt as she walked toward me, leaving quite a gap where her breasts came together. I caught a glimpse of the tops of both tits, er, breasts as she approached. Her body was damp and her hair was wet from having just gotten out of the shower. The water on her tits, er, breasts made the material covering them almost transparent but not quite. Her nipples were glued to the fabric, standing out in an unmistakable way, which was enough to get the attention of my stiffening cock.

"Is Sam here," I asked in a strangled voice. I was having trouble not talking to her tits, er, breasts.

"No, he and his father went into town. Did you have some plans?" she said with a smile and a quick glance toward my now raging hard on which my pants were having some trouble containing.

"Nothing special," I choked out. My face was now blazing with embarrassment at my predicament. I could stand there attempting with limited success to cover my unruly cock with both hands or I could turn around and walk out, and never again be able to face Mrs. Jones. I chose to stay and face the music, so to speak.

Mrs. Jones then did what I will remember to my last breath. She walked up to within arm's length of me and said, "It's OK if you find me attractive, Bill. Most guys your age would have the same reaction to a nearly nude woman. Do you find me attractive, Bill?" she asked in a way that almost brought me to orgasm. Then she did something that did. She reached down, running her hand over the front of my pants and squeezed my cock. I came with such force that I had to grab her to remain standing. I just happened to grab both of her tits as I came, enhancing the sensation to volcanic proportions.

"My, my, Bill, that was quite the sensation, wasn't it? Why don't you put your hands inside my robe since you've already felt them. Here, I'll make it easy for you."

With that, she undid the belt that held her robe together at the waist and exposed her tits. They were gorgeous. They were milky and big with brownish nipples surrounded by huge areolas. Her nipples were hard and extended. I put my hands against both and just held them there as my cock began to regain life in the now gooey environment of my underwear. It didn't matter at that point.

"Now, Bill, you can move your hands around on them and even suck on my nipples if you want."

If I want? If I want? What a fucking question to ask a horny eighteen year-old boy. Of course, I wanted to suck on them. Then I did just that. I don't have any memory of nursing as a baby, but this was nursing in the finest sense. It wasn't for nourishment of the body; it was for nourishment of the libido. As I sucked at first one nipple then the other, Mrs. Jones put her hands first on the back of my head, then on the bulge of my pants. As I continued to suck, she did the almost imaginable: she let her robe slide completely off, leaving her standing there wearing only a pair of very skimpy yellow panties. When she let the robe fall, she returned to my bulge and took the next step. She found the zipper and worked it down as I sucked and nearly choked with the thought of what was about to happen.

When she had the zipper completely down, she reached into my somewhat messy pants and found my cock, which she guided out of the hole in my underwear. Since it was covered in my own come, she easily moved her hand back and forth on it. Holy fuck, Mrs. Jones was jacking me off! Then she did the unexpected. She took one of my hands and drew it to her crotch. She helped direct my middle finger along the crack that Sam and I called a cunt; we were such vile and profane little fucks when it came to the female anatomy. Her panties were wet where she let me touch her.

"Bill, let's stop now while I take these off and you get out of those pants, shall we."

It took me all of thirty seconds to get out of my shoes and pants. This left me with just my now soggy underwear and shirt. "Pull them off, too, Bill."

Five seconds later, I was standing in front of Mrs. Jones with just my shirt and a hard on that could have been used to etch glass or at least damp clay. Mrs. Jones stood there with not even a shirt on. Then she told me to remove the shirt.

Not quite sure what to do next, having never been in the situation, not even in my imagination, I waited for her to do something. She did just that.

"Bill, come here and feel my cunt. I know that you and Sam call it a cunt, so we'll just go with that for the time being."

I walked to her, my cock swinging from side to side, and stopped with it just rubbing against her thigh. It was dribbling stuff from the end, leaving a track on her skin. I then took the courageous step of reaching to her cunt and cupping it. It was very wet, almost as slippery as the come that had collected in my underwear and pubic hair. The slit that ran along her cunt, the slit that Sam and I had seen once in a "fuck" magazine that he had found in his father's nightstand, was so slippery that I slid a finger right into her. It didn't stop until it could go no further.

"Now slide it in and out, Bill," Mrs. Jones said in a tone I hadn't heard from her in the past. Her face was flushed as I did what she asked and her eyes began to flutter. "Now suck on my tits as you finger fuck me, Bill." My, such words from the mouth of my best friend's mother.

Mrs. Jones seemed to like what I was doing to her. She even resumed jacking me off.

"Now, Bill, I want you to find a little button at the top of my cunt and rub that. That's my clitoris, or clit, as you and Sam probably call it."

Sam and I had no idea that there was such a thing as a clit, so she was given us credit for sophistication that we didn't possess. But when I located that little bump, Mrs. Jones seized onto my cock like she was planning to twist it off. I seemed to have found the button that controlled a woman's sexual fulfillment.

After about a minute of mutual masturbation, I detected that sensation that I experienced just before coming: my ass began to spasm and my legs became rubbery. Then Mrs. Jones began to exhibit the same signs. With me sucking her tit and rotating on her clitoris, we both came. As we did so, she told me to put two, then three fingers into her and push them in as far as I could. She jacked away at my cock while coming. I spurted come on her legs and the floor as I finger fucked Mrs. Jones who, by this time, could barely stand.

"Bill, you arrived at just the right moment. I was about to satisfy myself with a dildo when you walked in. My cunt was so ready for something that I could hardly keep from coming just watching your reaction to my nipples. That was amazing. Am I the first woman or girl to have her hand around your cock?"

"Yes, you are. But I still haven't really had a woman, have I. I mean I haven't had my cock in a woman's cunt."

"You will, you will. Just be patient. You may even have me for your first time. Now come here and give me a hug."

I walked to Mrs. Jones and put my arms around her. My cock was regaining some of its former stature, lodging between her legs just where they met. I could feel the crack of her cunt with the head of my cock. It seemed to want to get inside her. I began to slide back and forth as we hugged and she began to gasp. I must have found her clitoris with the head of my cock. To add to the sensation, I dropped both hands to her ass cheeks and pulled her into me with each stroke. With her tits, no longer her breasts, mashing against my chest, she, too, grabbed my ass and pulled me into her. Then the miracle happened: I lifted her just enough so her cunt was perfectly aligned with the head of my cock. She initially told me to stop before it got into her, but then pulled me so hard that I had no choice but to go all the way. The sensation of being in a woman's cunt was more than I could describe or take for long.

"Slide in and out, Bill," Mrs. Jones gasped. I didn't need to be told; it seemed to come naturally. My cock wasn't the biggest in the world. It was, however, bigger than Sam's. We had measured them with hard ons in the past. His was six inches at full staff and mine was seven and larger around. What made mine stand out was the size of its head when hard. It was like a golf ball. That golf ball seemed to be giving Mrs. Jones what she was looking for.

"Fuck me, Bill," was all that Mrs. Jones could get out as I began to come. When I did come, she seemed to suffer some sort of convulsion. She threw her head back and slammed her crotch into me in a way that might have caused injury if it didn't feel so good, so fucking good.

As my cock deflated in her cunt, I held Mrs. Jones by her ass cheeks. It took at least a minute for us to recover by which time my cock was once again at full staff and ready to continue.

"I would love for you to fuck me again, Bill. Your cock is better than I imagined over the last few years, but we should clean up in case the guys come home. We can't let then find us with your cock in me and your come on the floor, now can we?"

Better than I imagined? What the fuck! Had she been thinking of my cock as she masturbated?

"Have you been thinking about my cock over the last few years, Mrs. Jones?"

"Yes I have. Every time I masturbate, I think of you and your cock. I've seen a bulge in your pants from time to time when you're around me. I've just been waiting for you to turn eighteen and the right moment to get into your pants. Today was the right moment. I even suggested that Sam go to town with his father, suspecting that you would come over. Haven't you noticed the looks I've given you from time to time?"

"I thought that you were just being your friendly self."

"I was, but the new friendly self is a woman who wants to fuck you and has for a while."

We did a quick clean up of the come that was on both of us and the floor, then we got dressed. All during the task, my cock was at full staff, which was not lost on Mrs. Jones. As a parting gesture, Mrs. Jones got on her knees in front of me and unzipped my pants once again, a task at which she seemed to be expert. She pulled my cock out and inspected it while looking up at me. Then she did the one thing I didn't think "nice" women did: She slid her mouth over it and began to administer my first blowjob. As I held the sides of her face with both hands, she worked back and forth, for what seemed ten minutes but was actually about one. Then I came again with my cock still in her mouth. She swallowed my come, then she licked around my cock and its head until it was again clean except for her saliva. When she was done, she stood up and kissed me. She ran her tongue into my mouth, which left a slight salty taste behind.

"Did you like that, Bill? Maybe the next time I'll let you do the same for me." Then we heard a car drive in.

We met Sam and his father at the door as I was leaving. I must have had a shit-eating grin on my face after having just had my cherry burst in more ways than one. If they had looked closely, they would have seen the stains on my pants left by my having come after feeling Mrs. Jones' tits for the first time. Mrs. Jones gave Mr. Jones a kiss on the mouth as she greeted him. Her mouth had just been wrapped around my cock and must still have had a little of my come in it. He didn't seem to notice, or if he did he didn't say anything.

***

When we reached about the halfway point to the city, we stopped for dinner in a small town. This, too, was a serious deviation from the norm. Restaurants were not where I usually ate. When we finished eating and returned to the car, Mr. Jones suggested that Sam sit up front with him and talk so he wouldn't fall asleep. Mrs. Jones would sit in back with me. This was working out very nicely, was my thought.

When we got in, Mrs. Jones sat to my left. I could smell her very attractive scent from where I sat and knowing my hard on would be obvious. As Sam and Mr. Jones chattered away up front, Mrs. Jones and I sat mute in back. Then the unexpected happened; she slid over next to me so that her right hip and leg were resting against my left hip. I swore I could feel her tit against my arm and her breath on my cheek. It was one thing to be fondled by Mrs. Jones in private, but this was in her car with her son and husband only feet away.

It was dark now, and the only light that reached the back seat came from the occasional approaching headlights. Then I felt her hand on my left leg. Fuck, what was happening? If she got any closer, I would come all over myself. Then she turned her face into mine and whispered, "Bill, would you mind if I laid my head on your lap so I can take a nap? And, dear, would turn the radio up a little?"

I turned my head slowly toward hers and found that I was about an inch from her face with my lips almost touching hers. I could smell her every breath. It was perfumed with sex was my juvenile thought. My cock must have also had the same thought because it was now so hard that it was difficult to sit. "No, I wouldn't mind at all," was my whispered reply.

Mrs. Jones then worked her way back to her side of the seat and slowly lay down so that her head was resting on my left thigh. She was only about an inch away from my cock. She might have felt it if she moved slightly more. Then she did exactly that. Her face and mouth were directly over my raging hard on. I had come in the past with less stimulation than this. I willed myself not to come; the consequences would be too great. This was, after all, Mrs. Jones, whose face was on my lap, a woman whom I had fucked but not in the presence of her son and husband. It just wouldn't do to come in her face.

Just as I thought that she might be going to sleep, Mrs. Jones put her left hand on my thigh as if to use it as a pillow. What she really accomplished was to cover my cock with it. My cock, now pushing its way down my pant leg, was covered for the second time in its life by a woman's hand. She must have known that I wouldn't be able to contain myself. She let go just before I'd reached the point of no return. God bless her, because I wouldn't have another pair of pants to slip into.

What was a young man to do? I knew I had come with just the touch of woman's hand on my cock. She must have also known that I would probably come with just the stimulation of her touch. Just the thought of a woman's mouth being anywhere near my cock had driven me to orgasm in the past. Now here was Mrs. Jones' mouth near my cock, and her hand was on it. Visions of her having given me a blowjob just days before kept my cock near its bursting point.

Then she found my zipper and slowly unzipped my pants. My cock had reached its bursting point by this point and was looking for some air. Mrs. Jones reached into my fly and touched my very hard cock. The touch was electric. This hard on was nothing I had experienced. A woman actually touching my cock while her husband sat nearby was almost more than it could take without exploding, almost. Thank goodness I didn't come as she pulled my cock out and to her lips. Her lips! What the fuck? She was again going to put my cock in her mouth.

Then she did. She sank on my cock until it was entirely in her mouth, then she pulled off and looked up at me just as a car passed and I could see her face. She looked like she might be in a trance. Her eyes were unfocused and her mouth was open, her tongue just exposed. Then she went back to my cock.

I thought that since she was now working on my cock with her mouth, she probably wouldn't mind if I played with some things I had come to like a lot: her tits. Her left tit was well within reach of my left hand, so I slowly cupped it, expecting some resistance from material; there was none; she was braless. Her tit was soft, but I couldn't feel much through the dress she wore, so I decided to go for broke. With her head now bobbing up and down on my cock, I pulled her dress top from her left shoulder. When I was met with too much resistance, I found the zipper at the back of her dress and pulled it down as far as possible then reached around and again covered her tit with my hand. This was better. She clamped her lips tighter around my cock as a began to circle her nipple with my fingers. As I played with her nipple, I came in Mrs. Jones's mouth. Oh, fuck, what a sensation. I continued to work my hand on her tit as I came in her mouth. It was the second greatest sensation I had ever had. The first was coming in her cunt. That Sam and Mr. Jones didn't hear us was a minor miracle. Maybe that's why she asked that the radio be turned up.

When Mrs. Jones had sucked and swallowed every bit of semen I had in me, she licked her lips and patted my now deflated cock. As I attempted to zip up with my hand remaining on her breast, Mrs. Jones again patted my cock and sat up. As she did so, she pulled her dress into place and leaned slightly forward so I could zip her up. She remained sitting next to me.