By the Time I Got to Woodstock


Actually, while I was tired and had a buzz, the reason I had lost my balance was that after Grace had taken my shirt off, she had run her hands down my chest and stomach in a very gentle way before undoing my belt.

"Lean on me, Peter," Grace said as she knelt to slide my jeans down and off of me, folding the muddy denim as best she could before setting it on the hamper.

"How old are you baby?" Grace said, shrugging her hair back over her shoulder while I stood there naked except for my not-so-white underwear and socks.

"18," I squeaked, aware that there was now a little bulge getting bigger in my underwear.

"Really?" Grace said, also noticing the bulge. "You don't look it, man. That's not a put down or anything, man. It's just that you look a lot younger than that to me now than you did before. I'll bet once we get you cleaned up you'll be a cute little kid."

"I know," I said, realizing that the combination of my baby-face and skinny, almost hairless body gave every indication that I wasn't old enough to drink or vote.

"You are cute, you know that?" Grace opined, yanking down my underwear, and as my boner sprang wildly all over the place, my humiliation was complete.

"Not polite to point," Grace said, tapping the head of my erection and causing it to bounce around like a diving board, and she leaned away from it to take off my socks she added, "But your pointer is cute too."

At least she didn't laugh, I thought to myself as I fought the urge to use my hands, or hand, to cover my little pecker. Cute wasn't a very manly term for a guy's dick, but there could (and had been) more crushing descriptors of the 5 inches or so of fully engorged penis I had been blessed with, so I took it with good humor. After all, she had just touched my dick, which put her in rare company.

"Now let's get you in there, you grubby little dude," Grace said, helping me step into the tub and assisting me as I slid down into the water.

The water was a bit warmer than I would have liked, but it felt so good that I let myself sink down until it was up to my neck. I was just about ready to tell Grace that and thank her for it when I realized that she hadn't turned to leave but was in the process of unzipping her dress and peeling it off.


Chapter Six: Mr. Bubble.

Grace nonchalantly came over to the side of the bathtub with a bottle of Johnson's Baby Shampoo and a box of Mr. Bubble, a combination that would have sent me into fits of laughter if I hadn't been distracted by the sight of what seemed to me to be a goddess.

Grace wasn't naked, but the combination of the skimpy pink panties and the wife-beater T-shirt that had been tie-dyed a bright green and yellow made her look even more erotic than if she had nothing on at all.

The woman underneath that granny dress was voluptuous; with lush breasts that hung low and wiggled freely in the baggy top she had on, and the pink panties she wore were incapable of containing what looked like a jungle of crimson hued hair that peeked out the drooping elastic sides of the tattered undies.

"You okay, Peter?" Grace said with a look of amusement on her face, her big brown eyes twinkling as she smiled, seemingly unaware that she was the most lovely creature on the planet. "Even though you look stoned you still seem tense."

My hands were clutching the sides of the tub so hard that my fingers were a chalky white, and I imagine that the way I was staring at her with an open-mouth and bulging eyes might have indicated that I was really out of it, but I denied it.

"No, I'm okay," I said, my voice quivering.

"Then relax," Grace said, and squeezed a wet sponge down my back, causing me to shiver.

"You're so beautiful," I blurted out for some reason, having reached a mental state where my thoughts became words, and Grace seemed touched by my declaration.

"You're so sweet," Grace said, biting her lip as she sponged my back. "Especially since I'm probably old enough to be your mother."

"My mom doesn't look anything like you," I informed her while my erection throbbed underwater.

"Well, Peter," Grace said. "I think we have to start this bath over again. You must have been wearing a lot of the state of Vermont on you."

The water I was sitting in had turned a murky brown, a testimony to how filthy I had become in the last week, and I felt my face flush when I realized how disgusting I must have been.

"I'm not usually like this, I swear" I told Grace as she reached down and pulled the plug on the tub, and I was just about to explain that I took a shower every day usually when she brushed it off.

"It's cool," Grace said matter-of-factly as the water began to drain, and as I sat there watching the water level sink around me, Grace hooked up a rubber shower head to the faucet and asked me to stand up.

The water was almost gone from the tub, and soon only the dirt along the sides of the tub remained, along with the thick film of soapy crud that latched onto me as the water had drained away. Grace turned on the water again and rinsed the walls of the tub, leaning over as she did, and that movement opened up the armhole of the shirt.

I could see almost her entire left breast through the gaping opening; the biggest and most beautiful breast I had ever seen, I noted as I watched it swing down in front of her, and when she reached over I could see she had hair under her arms as well.

All of this did nothing to my erection, which was twitching with excitement. The thought of what I would do if her husband came in the open door crossed my mind, but I was too aroused to care, and frankly Grace didn't seem to give it a thought.

"You're still tense," Grace said as she turned the sprayer on me, rinsing the sludge off of me that had formed from the neck down.

I was afraid that when she sprayed the water on my crotch, I would cum all over the place, but I didn't, at least at first. Soon I realized that Grace was spending a whole lot of time rinsing that area, and when she finally turned the hose off and began filling the tub again, the prospect of that happening had become quite possible.

"His name is Mr. Bubble," Grace said in a jolly voice as she sprinkled some of the flakes under the running water while singing that dopey jingle.

"And you can watch me pop!" I sang as I harmonized with Grace, and she seemed pleased at my joining in, even though I felt dumb.

"Haven't had a bubble bath in - ever," I admitted, having thought it kid stuff.

"Bubbles are far-out," Grace said as I stared at her, imagining that the freckles that covered her arms formed constellations of sorts. "Aren't they?"

"I guess," I said as I stood and watched the bubbles rise with the water level, and then blurted out, "I really like your freckles."

"Maybe later you can count them for me," Grace suggested, and I reached over and wiped some of the bubbles off of her forearm.

"Bubble baths are supposed to be relaxing too, or at least they're supposed to be" Grace said, giving my boner a look as she shook her head. "You'll never enjoy your bath with all that tension inside you."

After saying that, Grace calmly knelt by the tub again and had me stand up, taking my wet buttocks in her hands, drawing me closer as she leaned forward. As I looked down in disbelief, Grace's mouth opened and her lips slowly slid down the length of my dick.

By the time her mouth got down to the base of my cock, I had already started to cum, setting a record for the fastest ejaculation on record. I tried to cry out and warn her, but there isn't a lot one can do in that short a time.

Grace didn't seem to want or need a warning, as she simply kept her lips tight around the base of my dick while her tongue did things I had no concept off, and I kept spurting jet after jet of my seed down her willing throat until I went limp in her mouth.

"There!" Grace said happily, testing the water temperature before easing me back down into the bubbles. "Now you can enjoy the bath."

"That - that was amazing," I stammered finally.

"It's supposed to be, silly," Grace said as she turned the hose on again to get my hair wet. "I liked it too. Your cum tastes really good.""

"What about your husband?" I asked.

"Roger? We aren't married, but we have been together for almost 20 years."

"But what about him? About what you just did?"

"Oh, he gets plenty too," Grace said while pouring some shampoo in her palm. "Don't worry about him. He's a groovy guy."

I would have continued to try and find out the answer to what that meant, but the sight of Grace reaching up to lather my scalp made me lose my train of thought, so I just swiveled to face her as best I could and enjoyed the view.

With Grace's arms upraised, the hair that I had gotten a peek at earlier was now in full view, and although their were a few girls back home who didn't shave their underarms, they were nothing like Grace, whose armpits were overflowing with the most lush looking burnt orange colored hair I had ever seen.

As my senses became clearer after the cloud of body odor I had been saddled with for a week dissipated, the familiar scent of patchouli filled my nostrils, and I found myself drifting away into a weird place, aided by what was a quite weird series of experiences I had lived through over the last couple of hours.

Strangest of all was this bathing experience, which continued to amaze me. Here was this woman, who was more than twice my age, giving me a bath. It was almost like I was her kid and she was my mother when you considered many of the things she had been doing, but I wasn't a kid, I was 18.

Nothing else made sense either, at least in my world. Grace, who was a total stranger an hour ago, had just sucked my dick. Not for long, but that was my fault. The fact was that Grace had put my dick in her mouth and swallowed my cum to boot, and with her old man right there in the house!

That must be it, I figured. This Roger guy probably couldn't get it up anymore, or she was so horny that he couldn't satisfy her, so he let her pick up guys that could. If that was the case, I told myself, then I was just the man to take care of her. Heady thoughts, especially from a kid who had never done "it" with a girl, and had only convinced a grand total of two girls in the world to even put their mouth on his cock until a minute ago.

Grace was beautiful. That was all I cared about. I didn't care if she was 35, or 45, or even 55. Look at those tits! The way they hung down - so full and low, with the outline of her big nipples clear as day through the skimpy t-shirt.

"All done!" Grace announced, breaking me out of my trance that had me staring at the hair under her arms, and after she helped me up and kept hosing me down to rinse the soap scum off of me while the water drained from the tub, assisted me in climbing out of the tub so she could dry me off.

"Still tense I see, Peter," Grace noted as she dried my hair, nodding downward as my dick pointed at her once more.

"Sorry. Can't help it," I said, which was a bit of a lie.

I wasn't sorry - not in the least. Everything about Grace excited me; her crooked little smile, the way she smelled so sweet, and the way those bell-shaped jugs swayed around under that top as she moved was driving me wild.

What I wanted more than anything was for her to wrap those lips of hers around my dick again. I wanted her to take me to a secluded place somewhere in this house and let me satisfy her the way her old man apparently could not.

It was going to happen. Grace was kneeling down in front of me yet again, rubbing the towel briskly over my erection, which was flying around in every direction right in front of her face. She seemed poised to lean forward and swallow me up once again when something interrupted her. Roger.

"How's Grace treating you, my man?"

Roger had appeared in the open doorway at some point over the last few minutes. He wasn't mad, but calmly waltzed into the bathroom with us. He was smiling, and he was naked. At that moment, I realized that everything I knew, or thought I knew, was wrong.


Chapter Seven: Roger and me.

Roger may not have been Grace's husband, but that didn't stop me from feeling guilty, as my once throbbing erection promptly withered away upon his entrance.

"Peter's really tense," Grace informed Roger. "At least he was."

"It's cool. Everything' is cool baby," Grace told me just before she moved her mouth over my limp dick.

Roger watched with the approving eye of a professor observing his students performing an experiment, but his arrival had left me completely inhibited. Him being there wasn't even the most intimidating thing, because that honor belonged to the thick uncircumcised cock that dangled down between his legs.

The thing was huge, at least compared to my own. Cocoa brown in hue, Roger's cock was bigger limp than mine was hard; larger in both length and thickness, and his not being circumcised made it look even more ominous.

Roger nonchalantly moved next to me on the bath mat and put his arm around my shoulders, drawing us close together. The prickly hairs that covered his body felt weird against my smooth skin, and I tried not to recoil against the contact while Roger tried to position himself so that Grace could service him as well.

"How about some for me too?" Roger suggested, wiggling his rubbery hose near Grace's cheek.

"Wait your turn," Grace said, taking my dick out of her mouth long enough to chide him before resuming her efforts.

"Guess I'll just watch then," Roger said, giving my shoulders a rub with his left hand while tugging on his cock with his right.

"Grace gives great head, doesn't she Peter?" Roger asked.

I nodded, grunting an affirmative answer, but my eyes were captivated my the sight of Roger pulling on his cock, stretching out the dusky hose like it was made of elastic. The tip of his dick was peeking out of the jagged edge of the foreskin, and as he started to get hard he peeled the hood down, exposing the pinkish cone beneath.

Grace looked up at me and smiled, letting her tongue dance on the opening of my cock, which had become erect once again. Was it from watching Roger play with himself? Before I could think about the ramifications of that, Roger started directing us.

"Here babe, work Peter's nuts for him," Roger said while reaching over and taking my dick out of her hand.

I looked over at Roger in shock, not believing that he was actually holding my dick, and that I was letting him, but there was no doubt that it was happening.

Roger's fingers held my cock, pulling it straight up while Grace's mouth began sucking on my balls one at a time. As she chewed on my nuts, Roger's fingers rubbed the underside of the head of my dick, causing a pearl of pre-cum to appear at the opening. He spread the goo all over the tip of my dick while his cock waved ominously next to my hip.

Was I supposed to touch him? Not at all sure what the protocol was about things like this, I kept my hands at my sides, fists clenched from nerves and excitement. I mean, the guy was letting his wife, or whatever she was, suck my cock - again, and I wasn't stooping the man from holding my dick. Maybe I felt I owed them this because they had saved my ass back there at the diner.

Did I want to touch his cock? Not really. It wasn't like I had never done touched another guy's before before. Kenny and I had jerked each other off once years ago, but that was different, or at least that was the way I was thinking.

If the thing wasn't so damn big, I thought to myself, maybe I would feel differently about it. Roger's cock had to be 7 or 8 inches long, and while Kenny's was bigger than mine as well, the difference wasn't nearly as great as this. It was almost like we were of different species or something.

Just then Grace swiveled around so that she was kneeling right between the two of us. Grabbing her husband's cock while hanging on to mine, she pulled them both to her face and began licking the both of us. Our cocks were pressed against each other's while her tongue swabbed them both, and the friction of the two dick heads rubbing together was electric.

I'm gay. I didn't say it, but I was thinking it while this went on. Why else would my dick be tingling like it was? Now Grace's mouth was opening wide and taking both of our crowns inside of her warmth, and her hands were pumping the shafts of our dicks while the heads were squished together.

"Why don't we get to bed?" Roger suggested, and Grace got up to her feet and dragged us by the dicks out of the bathroom and down the hall.


Chapter Eight: Three.

Grace's ass was full but firm, and it was a welcome distraction to the clumsiness of bouncing off the hall walls as we made the brief journey into what had to be the master bedroom.

The spacious room was lit up by what had to be dozens of candles, and the walls were covered by posters of all kinds, from Jimi Hendrix to peace symbols. The bed was a massive shrine in the middle of the room, and as we tumbled into it, I discovered it was a water bed. As I rolled around trying to get my bearings in the first water-bed I had ever experienced, Grace was peeling down her panties and kicking them off.

I was on my back and Grace was straddling me while the room spun around me. Her hands were pulling her tank top over her head, exposing those big beautiful breasts to my eyes for the first time. Grace's bell-shaped jugs hung down almost to her waist, and the crimson aureoles we so massive that they covered most of the ends of the full globes. Her nipples were fat stubs that looked like they were begging to be sucked on.

"Let me do the honors, man," Roger was saying to us, but I was hypnotized by the sight of Grace doing a kind of dance on top of me, her hands running through her long reddish-brown hair as she writhed to music that I couldn't hear.

Then a hand was on my cock - Roger's hand - but I didn't care at that point. I felt him putting my dick through Grace's thick bush and into her moist opening. As I slid into her and felt myself become enveloped by her moistness, I remember thinking that there should have been a fanfare, with my waiting 18 years for this to happen and all.

No fanfare, just the amazing feeling of Grace's pussy muscles gripping my dick as she began moving up and down. I reached up and grabbed her breasts, and the size of them made them tough to control, but I did my best to massage the spongy teats as they rolled around above me. The wild swirls of burnt orange colored hair under her arms seemed to be florescent in the candlelight, and I forced myself to look away for fear I would cum from the sight of it all.

Roger was kneeling beside Grace, kissing her while she rode my dick, and watching that was kind of erotic to me. Soon Roger's hand was kneading her breast, and I moved my hand to let him at it, using both hands to squeeze her other tit.

Grace was making noises now, and as her dance became more spastic and louder, I felt the walls of her pussy clamp down on my cock. When this happened I lost any last sense of self-control, my dick spurting my cum into Grace while she jerked around maniacally in Roger's arms.

"You came too," Grace said with a smile as she leaned down and kissed me, my spent dick sliding out of her as she moved.

"My turn," Roger announced, taking the opportunity to climb behind Grace while she was on all fours, and because Grace's face was right next to mine I got to see her reaction when Roger slipped his cock inside of her.

I was pinned under Grace as Roger began thrusting himself into her. Grace's tits were rubbing all over my chest as the bed rolled with every thrust. Above her, I could hear Roger grunting as he drilled himself deep into her, and her face was strained as she tried to keep herself on all fours.

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