A Whisky & Lemonade
by jallen944
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Ethan ran upstairs to his bedroom to get dressed.
He put on a pair of boxer shorts. His thing was not
as hard as before, but it hung out the left leg of his
shorts. He put on his jeans and looked at himself
in the mirror. His thing clearly stood out against his
left leg. He sighed and took the jeans off.
Somewhere in his dresser was a pair of jockey
shorts he no longer wore. He found them buried in
the bottom drawer. He took off the boxers, put on
the jockeys, and put the boxers back on over them.
Immediately, he was uncomfortable. The jockeys
were too tight. His penis grew even harder,
straining against the underwear. He looked at
himself in the mirror again. At least he couldn't see
the outline of it against his leg. It was terribly
uncomfortable, but nobody would laugh.
He put on his jeans and shoes and a shirt and
went downstairs. Mom and Mrs. Thorn were still in
the kitchen, having tea. He went out to the garage
and turned on the light. The car was waiting
patiently for him. He stood back to look at it for a
few seconds. It was a 1966 GTO, his grandfather's.
On the workbench, by the repair manual, were
three two-barrel carburetors. It took him two weeks
to strip them down, clean and reassemble them.
Today was as good a day as any to put them back
on.
He raised the hood. The engine lurked beneath
like a wild animal restrained by a cage. At the top,
the three holes in the manifold were covered with
masking tape. Ethan removed the tape from the
rear hole, picked up the carb marked for that spot,
and placed it carefully over the four mounting
studs.
In his mind, he saw the cheerleaders going
through their routines. They had slender waists
and smooth legs and their chests jiggled and
bounced. He grew stiff again. He stopped
tightening the bolts on the carburetor to adjust his
penis in his shorts. The harder it grew, the more
uncomfortable it got. Shifting it in his shorts only
made it harder. His penis finally slipped through
the leg of the jockeys. He shook his legs a few
times until it was hanging down his jeans against
his left leg. That was better, but the band of the
jockeys was too tight, cutting into his thing.
He heard a footstep and turned around quickly,
taking his hands away from his groin. Mrs. Thorn's
eyebrows arched up. She was looking down at his
groin.
"Uncomfortable, Ethan?" she said.
Ethan blushed and stared at the floor. "Just ... a
little tight."
Mrs. Thorn smirked. "I'll bet."
She leaned against the fender of the GTO and
looked in at the engine. Her large breasts rested
on her folded arms, bulging from the halter top like
they might burst out.
"This is a nice car, Ethan," she said.
"It was my grandfather's."
"Looks like it belongs to you."
Ethan just nodded and stared at her out of the
corner of his eye. One of her long legs kicked up
and her backside moved side to side. Mrs. Thorn
was not like the girls he knew. Her chest was
much bigger and she had longer legs than any of
those girls. He badly wanted to touch Mrs. Thorn, to
see how her body felt.
"You probably can't wait to drive it, can you?" Mrs.
Thorn said as she moved around to the front of the
car.
"No, ma'am," Ethan said. His eyes were on her
breasts, watching the way they jiggled.
"You're what, nineteen now, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
She started to say something, but lost her balance.
Her arms went out and she fell back against him.
Ethan caught her around her waist. His fingers
touched her breasts. He was right; they were soft.
Her butt pressed against the front of his jeans and
his hard penis lodged in the crack between her
cheeks.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Ethan," she said. Her butt moved
side to side on his stiffness and she leaned
against him for a few seconds. "I just wanted to get
a better look. Would you hold me up?"
Mrs. Thorn bent forward to look over the front grill.
Ethan's hands moved down her waist to her hips.
Her butt pressed more firmly against the front of
his jeans. His eyes rolled up.
"That's a really nice machine you have here. You'll
have to take me for a ride some time."
"Sure," Ethan said, but as she stood up and left, he
got the feeling she was talking about something
else.
He couldn't move. His penis was as hard as a rock
and stretched down the leg of his jeans. The leg
band of the jockeys cut into it painfully. There was
no way it would go soft and he couldn't go out to
dinner with it sticking out like that.
He leaned back on the stool. Mrs. Thorn's butt felt
incredible. He never would have believed being
touched by a girl like that would have felt so good.
He rubbed his thing through his jeans and
gasped. His knees became weak. He sat for a
long time with his hands on his knees, trying not to
touch it.
From behind the car, he watched the neighbor
across the street watering his lawn, and a few cars
that drove by, until he couldn't stand it any longer.
He had to do something. He couldn't go in; Mom
would see him like this. Besides, he didn't think he
could walk. Maybe if he took it out of his tight
shorts, the cool air of the garage would make it go
soft.
He opened his jeans, pushed down the front of his
boxers and the jockeys, and pulled out his thing.
He sighed. The tension eased from his body. He
let his weight settle on the stool.
The jockey shorts were a bad idea. He could not
stand being so uncomfortable all the time. There
had to be another way. He would just stop thinking
about girls, that was all. He wouldn't think about
them and his thing wouldn't get hard. He wouldn't
think about their soft chests or their round butts or
their long legs ...
The cool air wasn't working. He was still as hard
as a rock and it wasn't getting softer. He lifted his
penis. The skin burned like it was on fire. He never
understood how it got so big. It was like it
happened all of a sudden. He couldn't remember it
being so big until one day when he was younger
and noticed it for the first time. Now it was about as
long as his forearm and as thick as his wrist. He
squeezed. It felt like there was a piece of wood
under the skin. It got hard sometimes in the
morning when he woke up and had to pee, or in
the middle of the night when he was having a
dream. It got hard, too, when he looked at girls, like
those cheerleaders, or when he just thought about
them. He moved his hand back and forth and
gasped. That felt good. He squeezed and moved
his hand back and forth and groaned. His knees
felt weak. He did it again and groaned again. He
moved his hand all the way up to the end, then all
the way back down to the bottom.
Ethan closed his eyes and saw Mrs. Thorn again,
saw her big breasts and her long legs, and the
way her slender waist fit in his hands and the way
her butt pressed against his groin when she bent
over. His penis spasmed and he grunted. It felt too
good to stop. His hand moved faster. He moaned
as his hand pumped. His penis spasmed again
and he groaned and opened his eyes. He started
to cum and his stuff shot out the end. His penis
spasmed again and more stuff shot out. It was
white and thick and splattered on the floor. He
stared with his mouth hanging open. Over and
over, it spurted from his penis and landed on the
floor.
Pam was leaning against the fender of the car to
his left. Ethan froze. She was looking right at him,
and grinned. He blushed and tried to pull his jeans
up, but couldn't get them over his hard penis.
"That was nice," Pam said.
"What do you want?" Ethan turned away.
Pam stood upright and her grin disappeared.
"Mom wants you to go to the store." She turned and
walked out of the garage.
Ethan groaned. He looked down at his penis. It
was still hard.
The sun was strong and straight overhead. Ethan
was dripping with sweat. The stifling heat had
sapped his strength. He stood in the driveway,
holding the basketball, no longer with the energy to
even dribble. Sweat dripped from his face and bare
chest and evaporated as soon as it hit the
pavement. He needed some relief, and the air
conditioning inside just wasn't going to do it. He
needed to sink himself in some cool water. He
needed to go swimming in the Thorn's pool.
Their driveway was empty. Perfect. They invited him
and his sister to use their pool anytime they
wanted, but he preferred to swim when they
weren't home. Mrs. Thorn was all right, but Mr.
Thorn always wanted to tell him one of his long
stories.
This was the Fourth of July weekend, though, and
they had probably gone away somewhere. Ethan
grabbed his t-shirt and went inside to put on his
swim trunks. He changed in his room, grabbed a
towel from the closet, and ran next door. The gate
of the tall, wooden fence was unlocked, as he
expected. He went in. The water in the pool
shimmered in the sunlight like a beckoning oasis.
He tossed the towel on a lawn chair, kicked off his
basketball shoes, and dove in.
Gayle Thorn picked up the bag of groceries,
unlocked the front door, went in and set her keys
and purse on the table beside the door. She took
the groceries out of the bag and put them in the
refrigerator.
She heard a splash. Someone was in the pool.
She leaned over the sink to see out the window.
The water was rippling. She rushed out of the
kitchen to the sliding glass doors in the living
room. Her worst fear had always been that one of
the young children in the neighborhood would
wander into the backyard and fall into the pool. If
that happened, she would never forgive herself.
A head appeared in the water. It was Ethan. He
swam to the far side of the pool and climbed out.
Gayle smiled. Ethan was no longer the scrawny
young kid she watched growing up next door. He
had grown lean and tall.
Ethan trotted to the diving board, leaving a wet trail
on the cement. He climbed up to the board, walked
out to the end, bounced a few times, and dove in.
Gayle closed her eyes, remembering the way she
saw him in the garage a few weeks ago. She'd
seen a lot of cocks in her time, but never one as
big as the one in Ethan's jeans.
Ethan climbed out, ran to the diving board, and
dove in again.
Francis did not believe her when she told him. He
claimed that since she did not actually see it
uncovered or touched it, she could not accurately
judge its size. When she told him how she bent
over and pressed her ass to his groin, he was
equally disbelieving. According to him, she could
not measure the dimensions of a man's cock with
her ass. She told him he was full of shit.
Ethan floated on his back, kicking and splashing
with his feet. Gayle had an idea. She would find out
exactly what Ethan had in his shorts, and she knew
just how to do it.
Ethan drifted slowly on his back with his eyes
closed. The sun was warm on his face. The cool
water reenergized him. He would have gone back
to play more basketball, but he was too relaxed,
and having too much fun in the pool. Pam always
said diving in the deep end was the most fun. Now
he knew what she meant.
He felt his penis stirring in his shorts. Pam told
him about having sex and said it was supposed to
feel good, better than when he did it with his hand.
He wanted to ask her to show him, but he didn't
think he should. But maybe she would touch it. She
saw it once already and said it was nice. If he got
the chance, he would ask her to touch it. Just the
thought of doing that with her made him stiff.
He climbed out of the pool and went to the diving
board. He walked to the end, standing with his
toes over the edge. He held out his arms, bounced
a few times and dove in, slicing neatly into the
water with his arms over his head like the point of
a knife. Pumping with his feet, he paddled straight
down, touched the bottom like he did every time,
then pushed himself up. His head broke the
surface. He wiped the water from his eyes,
brushed his hair back, and paddled to the edge.
As he lifted himself out, he froze. The sliding glass
door opened. Mrs. Thorn emerged from the
darkness of the house, carrying two tall glasses
with ice and straws and a bottle of suntan lotion.
She wore dark, tortoise shell sunglasses, high
heeled black shoes, and a pink bikini that was
barely more than three tiny patches of fabric to
cover her chest and ... Ethan stared at the tiny
triangle below her belly button ... Her pussy. His
jaw dropped. He teetered on the edge of the pool
and grabbed the ladder railing.
"Hi, Ethan. I made lemonade. Would you like
some?" she said.
She walked to the table by the lawn chair and set
the glasses and the lotion down. Her huge breasts
bounced with every step. Her entire body was a
deep bronze color.
"Sure," Ethan said. He walked slowly to the table,
trying not to stare at her chest. His thing was
already hard in his shorts.
Mrs. Thorn was smiling. He took a deep drink of
lemonade and coughed.
"Pretty strong?" Mrs. Thorn said.
Ethan wiped his mouth. "What's in this?"
"I put a shot of whisky in it. Do you like it?"
Ethan coughed again. "Whisky?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry. You probably never had whisky,"
Mrs. Thorn said. She took the glass and wiped his
chin. "Are you ok?"
Ethan nodded. "Fine."
"Good."
She took a long drink of lemonade. While her head
was tilted back, Ethan stared at her chest. The tiny
pieces of pink fabric barely covered her nipples
and the strings cut into her soft flesh. His penis
twitched and grew harder. It had to be pushing out
the front of his shorts, but he didn't care.
Mrs. Thorn set her glass down. Her eyes glanced
down to his shorts.
"Would you do me a favor?" she said.
"Sure."
She handed him the bottle of cocoa butter lotion.
"Would you put lotion on my back?"
Without waiting for an answer, she straddled the
reclining lawn chair and lay down on her belly.
Ethan's eyes opened wide. The strip of pink fabric
on the back of the bikini bottom disappeared
between the cheeks of her butt.
"Go ahead," she said, her head turned to the side
to look up at him. "Don't take too long. I burn easily.
My skin is delicate, you know."
Ethan's hands trembled. He couldn't take his eyes
off her butt. He never saw anything that looked so
good in his life. He swallowed hard and sat down
on the edge of the lawn chair. His knee touched
her bare hip. He tried to pull away, but she moved
her legs so she was touching him again.
"Don't skimp on the lotion, honey. Make sure you
use plenty," Mrs. Thorn said. She rested her chin
on her folded hands.
Ethan uncapped the lotion and squirted it into his
palm. His hands shook. His erection strained to
get out of his shorts. His hands hovered a few
inches over her shoulders. Mrs. Thorn had a small
smile on her lips, but he couldn't tell if her eyes
were open or closed through the dark glasses. He
swallowed hard and touched her shoulder.
"Mmm, that's nice," Mrs. Thorn said.
Ethan's eyes rolled back in his head. Her skin was
soft and warm. His hand moved slowly in a circular
pattern over her shoulder, smearing the lotion. Her
skin became slick and shiny. He squirted more
lotion on her other shoulder and rubbed it in. He
squirted some on the small of her back and
spread it on her skin, running his hands over the
gentle curve of her waist.
"Lower," Mrs. Thorn said.
Ethan moved his hands down her back until his
fingers grazed the top of the bikini bottom. He
groaned and shifted uncomfortably on the edge of
the lawn chair.
"Lower, Ethan," Mrs. Thorn said. "You don't want
me to sunburn my ass, do you?"
Ethan stared at her butt. The round cheeks
seemed to be waiting for him. He squirmed, dying
to take his thing out of his shorts and rub it.
"No, ma'am," he said.
He squirted a blob of lotion on each cheek and
smeared it around, his hand barely touching her
skin. Her hips rocked slowly and her butt rose to
meet his hand.
"Now get my front side," Mrs. Thorn said, and rolled
over. "Start with my legs."
Ethan's hands were not shaking as much, but he
was sweating and his heart was pounding. He
squirted the lotion up her near leg in a line from
her ankle to the middle of her thigh. He started at
her ankle and moved up.
"That's good, Ethan." Her legs spread a bit. He
could see a few wispy hairs poking out from under
the thin, pink strip of fabric. She put her hand on
his and moved it to the inside of her thigh. "Don't
forget to get down in here."
She moved his hand way up her leg. His fingers
pressed against her warm crotch. She moaned
softly, moved his hand down, then back up,
moaning again. Her hips arched off the chair.
"Are you thirsty?" she said. She let go of his hand
and sat up to take a drink of lemonade.
Ethan snatched his hand back and pressed both
over his lap, keeping his legs squeezed together.
"Yeah," he said. He swallowed and his throat was
dry.
She handed him his glass. As he tilted it back to
drink, Mrs. Thorn removed her bikini top and lay
back, stretching her arms over her head. Ethan
coughed and sputtered, spilling lemonade down
his chin to his bare chest.
"Could you do my front side really good? My
husband likes it when I don't have any tan lines,"
she said.
Ethan could not move. The condensation from the
glass dripped on his leg, but he could not take his
eyes off her chest. She wiggled her butt in the chair
and they jiggled. The pink nipples at the tips were
hard points.
Ethan put down the glass and picked up the bottle
of lotion. He held it out, but hesitated. Should he
put his hands right on them, or should he start on
her belly? Would she be mad if he touched them?
He started on her belly, just to be safe, but stared
at her chest. He rubbed the lotion in small circles
over her belly button. Her butt wiggled and she
made soft moaning noises.
"Let me help," she said, and reached for the bottle
of lotion.
She held it upside down and let the white lotion
dribble on her chest. The drops landed with a
splat. Ethan's mouth fell open. She closed the cap
and set the bottle on the table.
"Now spread that around for me, honey," she said.
Ethan looked at his hands. She wanted him to put
them on her chest. He held them out over each
breast, closed his eyes and lowered them.
"Oh yes, Ethan," she said.
He groaned. They were so soft. He rubbed his
hands lightly over them, then squeezed. He
groaned again and shifted uncomfortably.
Mrs. Thorn's hand touched his knee. Ethan froze
except for his hands. Her fingers moved slowly up
his leg to the bottom edge of his shorts. He was
sure she would stop there, but she didn't. Her
hand moved over the front of his shorts, right over
his hard thing.
"My goodness, Ethan. You've certainly grown up big
and strong," she said.
Ethan's eyes rolled shut. Her hand moved back
and forth along his thing, squeezing. Her hand felt
good, much better than when he did it, just like
Pam said. Then her hand was gone. Mrs. Thorn
sat up.
"Would you like more lemonade?" she said.
Ethan started to speak but had no voice and
cleared his throat.
"Yes ma'am" he said.
She picked up the two empty glasses and started
toward the house.
"Come on inside with me, honey." She opened the
sliding glass door. He was still sitting on the edge
of the lawn chair, his hands over his lap. She
looked over the tops of her sunglasses. "What are
you waiting for?"
Ethan stalled as long as he could. He stood up
slowly, his hands covering the front of his shorts.
His penis shifted on its own and popped out of the
inner part of the swim trunks. It pushed outward
against his hands, hanging out the leg of his
shorts. He walked toward her stiffly and could feel
cool air blowing on the tip.
"Move your hands, Ethan," Mrs. Thorn said. "Don't
hide it, hon. A tool like that is something to be
proud of."
Ethan slowly lowered his hands. Mrs. Thorn
smiled.
"There you go."
She went inside. He followed and closed the door.
She refilled both glasses with a pitcher of
lemonade, opened a bottle of brown stuff with a
black label, and poured a bit into each glass. She
stirred his with her finger, licked her finger, and
handed him the glass.
"Try that."
Ethan took a sip and coughed. It burned his throat.
"Too strong? Let me fix that for you, dear," Mrs.
Thorn said. She took his glass, raised it to her lips
and tilted her head back. The lemonade spilled
over her cheeks and chin, down on her bare
breasts, and all the way down her legs to the floor.
Ethan's mouth fell open.
Mrs. Thorn let out a big, refreshed sigh and set the
glass down. She leaned back against the counter
with her hands on the edge. Her eyes looked down
at the front of his shorts.
"Show it to me, Ethan."
"Wh-What?"
She pointed to his groin. "I want to see what you
got in them trunks, son."
Ethan's breath caught in his throat.
"Don't be nervous, now. Just show it to me."
Ethan's hands were shaking. He tried to think of
what he should do, but his mind was a blank. He
hooked his thumbs over the elastic band at the
waist.
"Just take them all the way off. It'll be easier that
way," she said. Her fingers teased her nipple.
Ethan hesitated. "What will be easier?"
"Fucking. You do want to fuck me, don't you?
Because, honey, I can't wait to get that tool up my
slot."
Her hand slipped down into the tiny bikini bottoms.
Her legs spread. Ethan couldn't tell what she was
doing there. He just watched the way her fingers
moved under the thin fabric. He pushed his shorts
to the floor and stepped out.
Mrs. Thorn sighed and her eyes widened.
"Oh, sugar, you are all man. Don't let anyone tell
you different. Now bring that tool over here for me."
He walked toward her across the kitchen, his wet,
bare feet slapping on the linoleum floor. His penis
was so hard it ached, and it swung in front of him
with every step like some misshapen appendage.
Mrs. Thorn held out her hand and let his thing glide
into it. Ethan flinched. She closed her fingers
around it and stroked slowly.
"Good Lord, Ethan. You're going to make a lot of
girls happy with this, let me tell you."
"Happy how?"
Mrs. Thorn looked confused. "Have you never done
this, son?"
"No, ma'am," Ethan said. He didn't want to admit
he had no idea what she was talking about.
Mrs. Thorn chuckled as she took off the bikini
bottoms.
"I guess we're both in for a special treat today."
She set her feet apart, put her hand on her crotch
and spread herself open. Ethan stared between
her legs. She had a small patch of curly hair down
there, and a moist, pink area between her fingers.
Was that what Pam meant by a pussy?
"Bring it here, Ethan," she said. Her voice was low
and hoarse.
He took a step closer. She put her hand around his
thing, raised it and pointed the tip at the tiny, pink
area between her legs. She pulled. He moved
closer. She put one hand on his shoulder and
hooked one leg around his hip. The end of his
thing touched that pink area. He gasped. It was
warm and wet. Part of it sunk into her.
"Now push, hon. Just push slow," she said.
Ethan pushed with his hips. The flared end of his
penis disappeared inside her. They both groaned
at the same time. He pushed again. Mrs. Thorn
squealed and bit her lower lip. Her eyes were
squeezed shut.
"Oh sweet Jesus," she said.
This was what Pam was trying to tell him. A girl's
pussy was warm and wet and tight and smothered
his penis. She never could have explained how
good it felt. He only could have found out by doing it
like this.
Ethan put a hand on each of Mrs. Thorn's hips and
pushed himself forward. Her body seemed to
resist him, but when he squeezed her hips and
pulled her toward him, his penis slowly sunk
deeper.
"Oh God ... Oh God, Ethan," Mrs. Thorn cried. She
hugged him tightly to her body. Her chin rested on
his shoulder and she moaned in his ear. She ran
her hands down to his lower back.
"That's deep enough. Fuck me now, sweetie. You
know how to do it," she whispered in his ear.
Ethan was still for a few seconds, panting, trying to
sort out everything that was happening. His thing
felt like it was going to explode. He could not think
how to describe being enveloped by the warmth
and wetness of her body. Her long legs were
wrapped around him, her big, soft breasts were
pressed flat against his chest, and her hands were
running over his back and butt.
He moved his hips back, then forward.
"That's it. That's it. Just like that," Mrs. Thorn said
with a soft moan.
Ethan closed his eyes. His hips moved faster, as if
on their own. Mrs. Thorn squeezed his butt.
"Slow down, Ethan," she said. "Don't rush it, hon.
Take your time."
Ethan took a few seconds to catch his breath. Her
hips moved in his hands. He moved his own hips
slowly, just like before, out a little bit, then back in.
"Yes. Yes, I knew you'd be good at this," Mrs. Thorn
whispered. Her lips brushed his earlobe.
Ethan pumped his hips again, pushing himself as
deep into her as he could. Mrs. Thorn rocked her
hips at the same speed. Her moaning got louder.
"Oh Ethan ... Oh Ethan, you're gonna make me
cum," she said.
He didn't understand what she meant. He didn't
want to stop to find out. Something was happening
inside him, the same thing that happened when he
rubbed his thing with his hand, only this time it was
much better. Mrs. Thorn was screaming. Her body
thrust against him in convulsions. Her arms and
legs clamped around his body. Her pussy
tightened around his thing, and he exploded.
He threw his head back. His thing throbbed
painfully. His knees got weak and he put his hand
on the edge of the counter to hold himself up. Mrs.
Thorn's screams became weak moans, and her
body became limp. Her head rolled back. He
wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her up.
"Mrs. Thorn? Mrs. Thorn?" he said.
She raised her head, looked both ways, and
smiled.
"Good God, Ethan." She put both hands on his
cheeks and kissed him, plunging her tongue into
his mouth.
Ethan froze. Her tongue felt slimy and weird, but it
stirred a feeling deep in his stomach. He
squeezed her breast. Her back arched. He was
still hard inside her and began moving his hips
again. Mrs. Thorn raised her head and gasped,
staring into his eyes with her mouth open. Her
lipstick was smeared.
Her hips rocked with his, slowly at first, then faster.
She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. Her
moans were high pitched squeaks. She laid her
head on his shoulder, and it was happening again.
Her body jerked in his hands and his thing was
spasming. He grunted and thrust himself forward
with every spasm. Mrs. Thorn gasped over and
over.
As the spasming stopped, his pushing stopped.
Mrs. Thorn was panting in his ear. He was
breathing hard, too, and their sweaty bodies were
glued together.
She brushed her hand through his hair, wiping the
sweat from his forehead.
"You liked that, didn't you, dear?" she said.
"Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Thorn frowned. "Ethan, hon, never call a lady
ma'am. It makes her feel old. A lady doesn't like to
feel old."
"No, I guess not." He started moving his hips
again. His thing was sliding in and out of her body.
Mrs. Thorn pushed against his shoulder. "Enough,
Ethan. Enough, please. My poor body can't take it
one more time."
"Sorry," he said, and stopped. His hands moved up
to her breasts and squeezed.
Mrs. Thorn smiled. Her cheeks were flushed and
her eyes seemed to sparkle.
"That was pretty good dear, especially your first
time and all."
"Thanks."
She paused. "You can take it out now."
"Oh. Right."
Ethan stepped back. His penis slipped slowly from
Mrs. Thorn's body with a wet sucking sound. The
head dropped free. Mrs. Thorn groaned. She put
her hands on the edge of the counter and her arms
strained. A flood of white fluid gushed from her tiny
pink slit and ran down both legs. Mrs. Thorn looked
down, holding her legs apart.
"My God, did you cum. I swear I never seen so
much," she said.
Ethan staggered backward and dropped into a
chair at the dining table. His thing stood up from
his lap, drooping slightly to the left. That white stuff
dripped from the end. Mrs. Thorn had that stuff
inside her.
She chuckled and covered her mouth with her
hand.
"I hope you don't get me pregnant. How would I
explain that to my husband?"
Ethan sat upright. He forgot about Mr. Thorn. What
if he came home and saw him doing this with his
wife? He'd be dead.
"I have to get home," Ethan said. He bent down
and grabbed his shorts.
Mrs. Thorn's eyebrows went up. "Already? You sure
you don't want to stay for dinner? My husband will
be home shortly."
Ethan's heart felt like it had been seized in a fist.
He jerked the shorts up, stumbling. His stiff thing
wouldn't go in. He bent it sideways and forced it
down.
"Maybe-Maybe next time. I got to go," he said and
went to the back door.
"Ok. Goodbye. Come swimming again sometime,"
Mrs. Thorn said.
Ethan stopped halfway through the sliding glass
door. She had a look on her face he couldn't
understand. Her naked body glistened with
perspiration and the cocoa butter lotion. He gritted
his teeth and dashed out of the yard through the
gate.
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