After my first little encounter with Mandy’s mum – Mrs Hubert – I received no immediate invitation for a follow-up, which I found both surprising and insulting. I decided to get back to my real job: seducing her daughter.
I was now armed with my new expertise, which amounted to briefly licking the older woman’s snatch and even more briefly penetrating her before losing control and spraying my spunk around like an idiot. But I had done it. I had had sex. I had had my face in Mrs Hubert’s crotch and smelled her up close.
And even at point-blank range, she didn’t smell as good as Mandy did on my finger. In retrospect, I suppose it’s one of the blessings of youth, one of those gifts we don’t realise we have until it’s gone. Through no effort of her own, Mandy’s juice was succulent and I wanted to lick her and smell her dried essence on my nose.
The other problem, my premature ejaculation, would take care of itself, I guessed, because next time I would have the calm and expertise of a veteran.
My visiting habits would have to become different, though. I decided I would now arrange to be at their house when there was a chance that Mandy would either be out or have to go out soon, for a netball match or choir practice.
We were at different schools and mine finished earlier than hers, so the Tuesday after my Sunday evening initiation, I rang the doorbell at 4:15 and Mrs Hubert came to the door, wiping her hands on her apron. They were an old-fashioned family and she was the homemaker while Bradley worked all hours as a foreman at a flower nursery. He literally had green fingers and it kind of upset me to think of them anywhere near her.
“Oh. She’s not back yet,” my older woman said nervously. “Any minute. Anyway, come in, I’ve got something for you.”
We hurried into the sitting room and she took a piece of folded paper from her bag and pressed it into my hand. I made to open it but she waved me away.
“Look at it later. On your own.” Then she marched into the kitchen just as the door opened and Mandy came in.
Twenty minutes later, we were in the back garden against our wall behind the tree. I kissed Mandy forcefully and shoved my hand straight down her knickers.
“You’re eager today,” she said. I slipped a finger right up her and she gasped.
“I want to talk to you,” I said quietly.
“With your finger in my vagina?” she quipped. It was our banter that kept us together.
“With two fingers up your hole,” I replied, doubling up the intrusion.
“What do you want to talk about?” she said unhappily. “Not that again.”
“I want to have sex with you,” I said.
“I’ve told you a hundred times,” Mandy replied. “You are having sex with me. Who do you think has two fingers inside me?”
“Naked. In bed.” I said. “I’ve never even seen you naked,” I added in negotiation mode.
“Bedrooms are where the trouble starts,” she replied, and then softened. “You know we will eventually.”
“I don’t want to get married,” I said sharply. “This isn’t the 1950s and we’re not in an Enid Blyton novel.”
“My Mum managed it,” she said. “She was a virgin when she got married and since Dad died there’s only been Bradley.”
“How do you know?” I said spitefully.
“Don’t be horrible,” she replied. “I know. She’s my Mum. She’s not like one of these women who say at certain times they’ve just got to have it.”
“I want to be the first,” I said, leaving out the rest of a paragraph that explained I wanted her to be the first of many. In certain moods I could see myself being with her forever, but with an endless succession of other women on the quiet.
“You will be,” she said, putting a hand on my arm just like her Mum did. I pecked her on the lips.
“Saturday afternoon,” she whispered. “They’re going to the football.”
With this truce in place, we went back inside and she joined her mother in the kitchen while I went to the bathroom to masturbate.
I pulled out the piece of paper and found it was a page torn from a magazine. A teenage advice column. About premature ejaculation. It said you should work yourself up until you felt you were going to ejaculate, then squeeze the head of your penis hard until the feeling subsided. Then do that again and keep doing it for days and weeks until you felt you could stop it without the squeezing.
I decided to give it a go. Taking about ten sheets of toilet paper, I wanked until I was about to cum and then squeezed. It worked. I did it again and again it worked. The third time I allowed myself to cum and it shot up over the paper and onto my shirt.
There was no disguising it, so I took the shirt off and washed it with soap before heading to the kitchen with a bare chest and no story.
Mandy looked at me in horror. Not only was I exposing my chest without an excuse, but I was doing it in front of her mother.
“It stank. I washed it,” I said.
“Get him one of Bradley’s t-shirts,” Mrs Hubert said calmly and as the girl went off to do that, the woman smirked and said,
“Been practising?”
I blushed and she said quietly,
“Tomorrow morning.”
“I’ve got school,” I protested feebly.
“Bunk off,” she said. “Unless maths is more important than life skills.”
~~~
As I approached the house at 9:15 the next day, it seemed like a weird time to be doing whatever it was we were going to be doing.
Mrs Hubert led me straight into the spare room.
“Has she ever sucked you?” she asked hesitantly, and before I could reply she said, “No, of course not. I haven’t done it much either, as it happens. It wasn’t so common in my day.”
Unzipping my jeans and pulling them and my underpants down, she sat me on the edge of the bed, before taking off her top and bra but leaving her skirt on. She looked fantastic, half-dressed and up to no good, her beautiful tits on display for my pleasure. I leaned back to enjoy the show as she knelt in front of me, her neatly permed head descended and she took my cock into her mouth. She didn’t take it in far, but it felt heavenly.
“Do not cum in my mouth,” she ordered. “Do as the magazine tells you.”
This was a tall order. I was as excited as fuck, getting my first blow job and she expected me not to cum?
But she was in charge and I knew if I wanted to continue getting these lessons I had to do what she said.
When it started getting too much for me I pulled out and said, “Can we do something else? And I can cum later wherever you like.”
“What do you want to do?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Lick you again,” I said, almost choking on the word, such was my excitement at saying it.
“Good,” she said, slipping quickly out of her clothes. “I want you to suck my clitoris. That’s here,” she added, taking my hand and guiding it to the little ridge.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m sure you knew that.”
I tried to look as if it was obvious, although I had no idea what to do with it.
“Rub it,” she said encouragingly. “Ahh! Gently.”
I lay half on top of her and we kissed. She moved her tongue just like her daughter did, while I concentrated on her clitoris.
“Nice,” she purred. “Now lick me.”
I slid down her body, her willing servant, and dived into her forest. Today she tasted different, salty and vinegary, like a bag of chips. In other circumstances, I might not have liked that, but right there, right then it seemed completely natural. I was down where you need special permission, and that comes with obligations. That’s the older me talking. All I knew at that age was I was licking a woman’s crotch and she wasn’t a ghost or a hologram, she was a human being of the female variety.
I had recently read Lady Chatterley’s Lover and the gamekeeper had liked the fact that his noble lady had physical functions. “Tha’ shits and pisses…” was how he put it.
I was beginning to think I must be kinky, because I had watched Mrs Hubert on the toilet even before we became lovers, if that term could be applied to us. Her, certainly, but me?
I licked and sucked her clitoris before delving between her lips for the main course. And then lower, deeper, and I was out of her vagina and into the rougher terrain of her arse. My face slid blindly into this unknown area and I hesitantly poked my tongue into my girlfriend’s mother’s bottom.
She tensed and drew a quick breath.
“I can’t really…” I began.
“Lick me from behind,” she said urgently, turning over and up onto her knees. “My vagina.”
I did as I was told and loved the warm slippery richness. I drank her juices as I silently adored her.
And then I found myself unable to keep away from her utterly private area. I thrust my tongue between her buttocks and licked her anus.
“Oh my god, oh my God,” she cried into the pillow. “Make me cum like that.”
I was enchanted, enraptured, floating in some other world and the knowledge that I was giving her such pleasure made me feel like a man.
Mrs Hubert bucked and lurched as she came.
“Oh, God. Thank you,” she said sincerely, and I wasn’t sure if she was thanking The Lord or me. Either way, I had somehow driven her to erotic distraction.
“Now you cum,” she said. She was still on her knees and her bottom was looking at me like the first prize in an exotic vegetable show.
I grabbed my cock and in mere seconds my spunk shot into her crack and up her back and down in her hairy valley. I had never seen so much semen. This wonderful woman had drawn it from me and I was repaying her by trying to fuck her daughter, which seemed wrong.
Mrs Hubert was now definitely my lover. I could even detect that actual emotion between us, which could turn into a complication if we weren’t careful. But I would let her take the lead on that, as in everything that had occurred between us so far.
Up to the point where I had licked her arse, that is. That had been my idea and I still wanted to talk to her about it.
