("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: taken.txt (F/m, 1st, reluc, smoking fet) Authors name: Ken Poulmann (kpoulmann@earthlink.net) Story title : Taken in Her John -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2001. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- TAKEN IN HER JOHN (F/m, 1st, reluc, smoking fetish) By Ken Poulmann (kpoulmann@earthlink.net) *** Brief Description: "She had been my sitter on similar occasions, but never did I fathom that this 53 year-old-woman would take my virginity. In all fairness, it was I who instigated all of this. With my adolescent hormones raging, I masturbated whenever and wherever I could get away with it.... in her guest bedroom, in the bathroom, etc. Like any normal (or, so I thought) juvenile boy my curiosity got the best of me until I'd even snatched a pair of Sandra's panties to sniff as I jerked off." *** My parents left town on a getaway cruise so they asked one of our neighbors, Sandra Polisi, to put me up at her place for the duration. An attractive divorcee for her 53 years, Mrs. Polisi originally hailed from Texas as was apparent by her heavy, southern accent. Her elder, "Barbara Walters" looks were complimented by Italian- black hair. For as long as I can remember she wore it in a style reminiscent of one of those dated, beehive coifs. She had sat me on similar occasions, but never did I fathom that this woman would take my virginity.... much less in the positively perverse way in which she had! In all fairness, it was I who instigated all of this. With my adolescent hormones raging, I masturbated whenever and wherever I could get away with it.... in her guest bedroom, in the bathroom, etc. Like any normal (or, so I thought) juvenile boy my curiosity got the best of me until I'd even snatched a pair of Sandra's panties to sniff as I jerked off. Unbeknownst to me, Sandra heard my telltale moans emanating from her john throughout the week. I was equally unaware that she found her panties stashed beneath my pillow before leaving for work on that fateful Friday morning. I spent the school day with a perpetual hard-on. Afterwards, I made a beeline to Sandra's place to unload the sperm in my bloated balls. I entered the front door expecting her to be home from the office by then, preparing supper as usual. I traipsed down the hall and heard the radio tuned to the easy-listening station that she adored. The instant I reached the bathroom doorway I got the shock of my life! THERE WAS MRS. POLISI HUNKERED ON THE COMMODE WITH HER BUSINESS SKIRT HIKED ABOUT HER WAIST.... AWAITING MY ARRIVAL! HER ONE ELBOW RESTED ON HER KNEE, LIMP-WRISTING A CIGARETTE UP IN MID-AIR, WHILE SLOWLY FRIGGING HER BUSHY QUIM WITH HER FREE HAND! She beckoned me inside for "a little chat," so I sauntered into the john on queasy legs until I was stationed between her splayed-open loins. The fishy aroma wafting from her mound combined with her musty smoke, causing a taboo aura to permeate the room. As Sandra tersely crushed out her cigarette, I shifted uneasily. She lit a fresh Winston 100 and proceeded to exhale in her Dallas drawl, "NOW, YOUNG'UN, JUST WHAT WERE MY DRAWERS DEWIN' IN YER BED?" I stood frozen and unable to speak. Partially due to embarrassment, and, due in part to the vision before my adolescent eyes. SHE WAS MASTURBATING! I gawked between Sandra's statuesque loins and was both enamored and afraid by what I saw. I hadn't even petted with a girl my own age yet.... and there I was catching my very first glimpse of A MATURE WOMAN'S VAGINA in heat! Each time her delving fingers slowly emerged; they were covered with frothy discharge. My gaze shifted to the spent Kotex she'd left draped over the seat rim. From sex-ed class, I'd barely known what a Kotex was used for. It was evident that it wasn't her period. I can only surmise that she was so aroused deciding my fate that a maxi-pad was necessary to sop up her copious love juice. Her Kotex was absolutely saturated! The lathery puddle in the middle of that napkin mesmerized me! What's more---THAT CIGARETTE! I was unexplainably aroused by Sandra's rather skulking, seductive drags! To this day, I still can't pinpoint why. Perhaps I was just at such an impressionable age. All the while I fidgeted uneasily, my dick swelled into a full-fledged erection simply from her sultry smoking. I was jostled from my little reverie when Sandra proclaimed that she overheard me "dewin' the dirty diddle" right there in her john. She wanted to know once-and-for-all why I had possession of her briefs? Glowing beet-red, I broke down and meekly stammered, "Nothin', Mrs. Polisi---Just smellin' them." She knew full well what I had been doing with them behind her back. Feigning surprise, however, she shot back, "SMELLIN' 'EM??! NOW, WHAT KIND OF A NAUGHTY LITTLE MAN GOES 'ROUND SMELLIN' GIRLS' UNDIES, HHHHMMMMM??!" Adding fuel to the fire, Sandra lifted on her reading glasses and spotted the thick bulge sprouting in my crotch. After drawing in on her Winston, she mused, "JUST A LOOK AT YEW, MISTER....YER CARTIN' A BONER IN THERE FER ME, RIGHT NOW, AREN'T'CHA??!" I squirmed and tried to conceal the telltale tent in my crotch with my hands. In a childish effort to divert the blame, I blurted without thinking, "I can't help it, Mrs. Polisi! Your smokin's making me hard!" WRONG THING TO SAY! She initially gave me a puzzled look, but then, caught on in a flash. Pulling a fresh Winston from her pack in a seductive fashion, she lip- dangled it and lit up with a provocative pout. With that, she brushed aside my hands and proceeded to unbuckle my jeans. Believe you me, I was in a state of shock and disbelief! This fifty something woman was pantsing me! I tried to scoot away but she tugged me back in place, and scolded, "STAY PUT, MISTER! WE'LL SEE HOW HORNY Y'ALL BE WHEN I'M A THROUGH WITH YEW!" As my Bugle Boys dropped around my ankles in a rumpled heap, I pleaded like a kid who was caught in the cookie jar, "EEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW---MRS. POLISI---NNNNNNNOOOOOO!" With that Winston wickedly up-tilted in the corner of her mouth, Sandra knowingly winked at me and hooked her fingers into my elastic waistband. My mouth just gaped open as she eased down my jockeys. I mean, the words lumped up in my throat and I was mortified! Lo and behold---out sproinged my 8 inch erection in all its glory! Ogling the massive pink pole that bobbed and weaved in front of her, she exclaimed through her cigarette-clenching lips, "KENNETH POULMANN---SUCH A SAUSAGE!" I whimpered and squirmed skittishly as this 53-year-old neighbor raked her long nails down my tender shaft. Following a teasing drag on her cigarette, Mrs. Polisi cupped my sparsely covered balls in her moist palm. With another knowing wink, she exhaled in her doting coo, "BET'CHA THEM NUTS ARE A FULL OF 'KENNY KREAM', HHHHMM??!" She striped my pants completely off and scooted me around until my butt faced her. I craned my neck to the side and looked in the full-length mirror adorning the bathroom wall. As she peeled my pert tush apart with her thumbs, I had no option but to watch her leering back at me with that Winston dangling from her lips. I cringed at the thought of an elder female ogling my teenage brownie for the very first time, as she teased, "TCH- TCH-TCH...YER MOMMA SURE GAVE YEW A SWEET LITTLE POOPER!" Making matters worse, Mrs. Polisi released one cheek and saucily smoked her Winston. She then leaned forward and nestled her nose on my bunghole. My bent knees wobbled as her steamy breath flowed across the surface of my poohole when she began to sniff it! I let forth another series of whimpering protests, and she re-emerged from my squirming butt to inhale her Winston 100. She couldn't resist taunting even further, by exhaling in her cigarette-raspy voice, "GOODNESS SAKES....YER LIL' OL' BUMMER EVEN SMELLS YUMMY!" If I'd known then the kind of humiliating ordeal that she'd concocted I would have stayed at school. Mrs. Polisi spun me again until I faced the vanity mirror next to the commode. Retrieving her spent Kotex from the seat, she deposited it in my palm and had me hoist it up to my nose. With that, I was instructed to smell it and jack off in her fist for her viewing pleasure! All of this because I'd taken her panties???! I wove back and forth on my bowed legs, and pleaded as if my life depended upon it, "I CAN'T DO IT IN FRONT OF YOU, MRS. POLISI! PPPUUULLLEEEZZZEEE---I WON'T DO IT ANYMORE!" Despite my scathing embarrassment, I succumbed to Sandra's lewd wishes after she fisted my cock with her manicured fingers and threatened to inform my parents of my panty pilfering. When my butt slowly began rocking to and fro, she tacitly nodded her approval. I timidly cradled her sodden pad against my nose and whiffed in. My senses were inundated with her tangy, tuna-like scent. It was so much stronger than the crusted cream that I smelled on her panties! I bucked uncontrollably, blubbering and blurting, "EEEEEWWWWWW---MRS. POLISI! EEEEEWWWWNNNN, GOOEY KOTEX!" Mrs. Polisi pensively inhaled her cigarette and observed my randy reaction with decadent delight. Peering at me in the vanity mirror, she coaxed in her Texas twang, "THAT'S IT---SNIFF THAT JAM PAD! SHOW ME HOW Y'ALL TOSS YOUR TOOL! SMELL MY SANDRA SOUP, YOUNG'UN!" It became quite evident that this woman had some rather kinky fetishes of her own. She seemed a little more than preoccupied with "names and cuisine." I mean, each time I whiffed in her heady fragrance, she introduced even smuttier parlance to my adolescent vocabulary, "YEAH'AH- --JUST SMELL THAT SNATCH STEW! THAT'S IT, SNIFF MY POLISI PASTE---SMELL ME GOOD! WHIP YER WEINER ON THE TOILET SEAT!" There was something oh-so-matronly about the way that she poised her Winston Long up at her side, next to those half-frame eyeglasses. In the process, Sandra clicked her thumbnail against her pinky nail and returned my moping gaze, while tempting, "THAT'S RIGHT- --SMELL THAT SANDRA SAUCE! Y'ALL LIKE IT---LIKE MY CUNT CUSTARD???! YEAH'AH---SNIFF MY WOMAN WINE!" Minutes later, Mrs. Polisi lip-dangled her ever present Winston in the corner of her mouth and used her free hand to resume masturbating herself. Heaping more shame on me, she demanded that I reprise my adolescent ramblings and masturbate "to the beat" with her. Again, my begging and apologies were all for naught. Her reflection in the mirror boasted pure determination, as she frigged off and insisted, "C'MON, SING IT FER ME....OOOOOOOOOOO, SMELLY KOTEX!" The longer Mrs. Polisi leered up over her glasses with that Winston up-tilted in her lips, the more I felt like a supplicant before her majestic "throne." Wearing a forlorn frown, I resigned myself to do her bidding. Recalling the juvenile rhymes my pals and I had bandied about, I whined and jacked off in tandem with her, "BEAT THE MEAT....JUICY SCREW! EEEEEEEWWWWWWWNNNNNNN BOY, THAT'S NASTY!" Sandra radiated UNADULTERATED LUST as she returned my doe-eyed gaze and kept tilting her eyes down to her own rhythmically plunging fingers. It was a blatant attempt to seduce me in the seediest fashion, knowing that I couldn't take my eyes off her drooling poon pot. Matching her stroke-for-stroke, I was utterly ashamed that she'd discovered just how ripe and randy I was for a 14-year-old. On the other hand, Sandra was elated each time I chanted like a choirboy to the cadence of our mutual masturbation, "STROKE MY POLE...CREAM 'ER HOLE! EEEEWWWNN BOY, THAT'S NASTY! SHOOT THE GOO...SPLASH 'ER GASH! EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWNNNNNNN, GOOEY PUSSY!" About 10 minutes into this tawdry task, the first pangs of orgasm welled up in my overheated testicles. Overwrought with the mortifying prospect of sperming off in front of her, I halted abruptly and whinnied, "NNNNNNNOOOOOOO---MRS. POLISI---DON'T---I'M GONNA SQUIRT!" How I wished I'd never mentioned her smoking! Sandra relinquished my throbbing pecker and left me teetering to light up yet another Winston. In the process, she knowingly muttered through her cigarette-clutching lips, "WHAT'ZA MATTER, LITTLE MAN---FIXIN' TA SPUNK??! Y'ALL WANNA SPEND WITH ME, HHHMMMM....WANNA CUM??!" (Believe it or not, I was so inexperienced that I had no idea as to what the words "SPUNK" and "CUM" meant! As I already alluded, I only knew teen words such as, "CREAMING, JUICING, SQUIRTING, SPERMING," etc.) Setting aside her lighter, Mrs. Polisi lip-dangled her Winston and caressed my testicles like a velvety milking machine. She encircled my cock helmet with merely her thumb and forefinger and corkscrewed them around the ultra-sensitive skin on my dick head. I tipped back and forth on my high-topped Nikes, fraught and guilt-ridden about ejaculating in the presence of a female for the first time in my entire life! My mouth felt like dry cotton, as I pleaded between gulps, "I'M SORRY, MRS. POLISI! DON'T, YOU'RE MAKIN' ME JUICE! PPPUUULLEEEEZZZ, MRS. POLISI! NNNNOOOOOO, IT'S NASTY!" At that very moment, something caught my ear and remains embedded in my psyche to this very day. A song lilted from the stereo as I tried desperately to stave off my cum. I've come to equate this particular song, "The Hustle," with the deep embarrassment that I felt during my virgin orgasm. It was to the tune of this song that I became more and more despondent about ejaculating in her presence. As Mrs. Polisi fondled her thumb and forefinger around my penis in slow, torturous motion, the churning sperm in my balls produced an excruciating itch. She just kept raising her eyebrows in that knowing look and coerced in her Texas twang, "Y'ALL CUN DEW IT, YOUNG'UN---SPILL YER SYRUP! THAT'S RIGHT, SAY YER SORRY....FIRE THAT EGGNOG!" You talk about ROBBING THE CRADLE! THERE I WAS IN THAT BOW-LEGGED LITTLE SQUAT, A HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN WITH A WOMAN'S SPENT KOTEX SADDLED BENEATH MY HOSE....AND SHE WANTED ME TO "APOLOGIZE" BY "SPENDING" IN HER VERY PRESENCE! When the molten lava suddenly erupted from my trembling cock, my loins went taut and I squinted into the mirror, ever so afraid to witness what was about to happen. To this very day I can still hear the lyrics of "The Hustle" echoing through my mind, while I wore a slack- jawed mask of remorse, and bawled, "AWWWWWNNNN---- MRS.POLISI! OOOoooo-OOOOoooo-OOOoooo--OOOooo---OOOoooo, do it!" As that first ropy volley arced forth, Sandra's eyes nearly popped from their sockets! When my pearly semen splooshed upon her mirror, she drawled incredulously, "GOOD GAWD, MISTER---YER PISSIN' THAT GRAVY!" With each stringy glob that jettisoned from my flesh fountain, I felt guiltier than the moment before. As another refrain of "The Hustle" punctuated the room, I cringed at the sight of my chastity clinging like webs of gluey yarn on the mirror. At that age, I was clueless as to how a female should react to a male's orgasm. Our neighbor alternately scolded and then mollycoddled through her cigarette-clenching lips, "THAT'S IT, YEW LITTLE SNOT---POP THAT WAD! SHOW ME HOW YEW BEEN DROPPIN' YER LOADS IN HERE! THAT'S A GOOD BOY---WHIZZ YER KENNY KREAM! OOOoooo-OOOOoooo-OOOoooo--OOOooo--- OOOoooo, do it!" By then, I was reduced to a pitiful slouch. With each indignant twist of her hand, Mrs. Polisi's costume bracelets jingled on her slender wrist. To this very day I'm still haunted by the image of this woman glowering up over those half-framed glasses with that towering beehive hairdo crowning her features! Serving after serving of my "gravy" spewed forth, as she admonished amidst the tune playing on her stereo, "THAT'S THE WAY-- -HOSE THAT HONEY! DRAIN THEM BALLS FER ME! I SAID, DRAIN 'EM, MISTER! SPUNK FER ME, YOUNG'UN---SPRAY IT ALL OUT! Do The Hustle! Do The Hustle! Do The Hustle!" When my climax finally subsided, I was left gasping and doubled over in that naughty squat. Lingering over the remainder of her smoke, Mrs. Polisi perused the amount of "syrup" I dowsed upon her mirror. She just couldn't resist goading me about the size of my load, as she wheezed, "MY-OH-MY-OH-MY---YEW HORNY LITTLE SNOT---SUCH A SPUNKIN'!" Moreover, she remarked on my turgid erection. "JEEZUZ!," Sandra crowed, "Y'ALL STILL GOT A BONER??!" I blushed with a fresh dose of embarrassment and sheepishly stuttered the only explanation I could, "I N-N-N-NEVER DUN ANYTHING WITH A GIRL BEFORE, MRS. POLISI." Once again, that was perhaps the last thing that I should have said! With confirmation that a pure virgin was in her midst, Sandra indulged her most obscene desires. She knelt me down between her lush loins and decreed, "IT'S 'BOUT TIME YEW HAD A GOOD HOT FUCKIN', BUSTER!" I couldn't believe my own ears! Just the night before I had been fantasizing about getting into a girl's panties---and now---I was on the cusp of sexual intercourse with A FIFTY SOMETHING WOMAN! As she scooted to the edge of the commode and drew me close, all sorts of fearful thoughts raced through my mind. I was absolutely clueless about inserting my love pole in a girl my age.... let alone a woman old enough to be my mother! I knelt there cowering as Sandra took hold of my dick helmet and wedged it against her steamy, oozing vulva. As she guided my chaste member into the depths of her seething tunnel it felt as if I was sinking into a vat of simmering molasses! I whimpered and moaned when her frothy, feminine fluid squirted down the root of my shaft as I entered her innermost womb. As she paused to light yet another Winston, Sandra insisted I smell her Kotex all over again. Clamping her hand on one of my butt cheeks, she began fucking me in and out. For those first few moments, she was content to savor her cigarette and lazily sashay me back and forth like a limp rag doll. She radiated an eerie persona of "DOMINANT WOMANHOOD." In a strange sort of way I felt cuckold by the way her business skirt scalloped down both sides of the commode. In stark contrast, I was sequestered between her patent leather high heels, lethargically humping in only my shirt, socks and Nikes. A while into our illicit fornication, however, I was initiated into a vulgar routine that Mrs. Polisi performed whenever she had her way with me from that day forward. A favorite tune of hers had begun playing on the stereo this time, entitled, "More, More, More." There were two distinct pauses after the phrase, "More, More, More." In unison to these beats Sandra thrust me and uttered the words, "FUCK-FUCK." Strange as the following seems, she got a rise from sort of taunting me in this manner. In fact, each time she tried to keep up with these half beats she slurred the words until they sounded more like, "FUH-FUCK!" Mrs. Polisi began singing her salacious rendition of this tune right there in the midst of our fuck! Of course, she really didn't "sing" it. Instead, she muttered it in her drawling monotone, and slowly screwed me in and out to the rhythm and the beat: "MORE, MORE, MORE.... FUH-FUCK! HOW DO YA LIKE IT.... HOW DO YA LIKE IT? MORE, MORE, MORE...FUH-FUCK! HOW DO YA LIKE IT.... HOW DO YA LIKE IT? MORE, MORE, MORE... FUH-FUCK! HOW DO YA LIKE IT.... HOW DO YA LIKE YER F-U- C-K?" OOOOOOOoooooo.... HOW DO YA LIKE MY POON? OOOOOOooooooo... HOW DO YA LIKE YER SCREW!" I felt thoroughly sissified by the way this long-time neighbor of ours was administering my very first fuck. More and more, Sandra seemed to alternately mollycoddle me one instant, and then, discipline me the next. One moment she'd raise her eyebrows and wink provocatively, as if mothering, "OOOOOOOOOOO, OUR LITTLE MAN'S FUCKIN!" The next instant she'd fix her gaze over her reading glasses and sternly draw in on her Winston. Mid-way through this song Sandra whipped her cigarette into the side of her mouth and grappled both my butt cheeks. Adding further emphasis she drilled me in and out of her that much harder, and scowled, "DEW YER DUTY, MISTER---START A HUMPIN'!" As I intimated, I was a neophyte when it came to coitus. Armed only with my intuition, I pistoned my groin back and forth to the tempo of "MORE, MORE, MORE." I averted my eyes to the side to escape her leering looks, but she followed suit and glanced at me in the mirror. She enjoyed the way that I sulked as she peered up over her reading glasses in an almost authoritarian fashion. Her nails dug into my pouncing rump and she double-time fucked me during these maraca beats....heaping additional guilt upon me by uttering the forbidden nature of our act over and over again: "MORE, MORE, MORE...FUH-FUCK! HOW DO YA LIKE IT... HOW DO YA LIKE IT? MORE, MORE, MORE...FUH-FUCK! HOW DO YA LIKE IT...HOW DO YA LIKE YER H-U-M-P?" Almost 20 minutes into my debut fuck, I wailed out warnings of my impending cum. Overcome with the shame of depositing my semen into a previously married woman, I halted abruptly in mid-stroke and begged for a reprieve. To my chagrin, she'd have none of it! Hell-bent on capturing my virgin cargo, Sandra plowed me in and out at a whorish pace and grunted, "C'MON, MISTER---POP THAT CHERRY! GIT A GOIN'---DROP YER LOAD---DROP IT!" I had no option but to take off galloping like a bucking bronco, causing Sandra's svelte butt to smack the toilet seat up and down once again on the commode. Clouds of bluish smoke billowed from her Winston-slinging lips, as she growled, "FLUSH THE SLUSH, YOUNG MAN! C'MON---GIMME YER BABY MAKER! SQUIRT THAT BOY BROTH!" Ensnared in her wanton embrace, my nose enmeshed itself in her beehive coif. When my chastity finally exploded from my rod, I turned towards the vanity mirror and was greeted by Mrs. Polisi's matronly features, as I stuttered and sobbed, "EEEEWWWWWW, I'M SORRY---MRS. POLISI, DON'T MAKE ME GOOSH! IT'S SQUIRTIN'---MRS. POLISI---EEEWWWWNNN I'M S-O-R-R-Y!" Unprepared for the torrential downpour that deluged her innermost womb, Sandra bellowed though her cigarette- clenching lips, "CHRISSAKES, POULMANN---YER A KNOCKIN' ME UP!" There were two distinct aspects about my virgin consummation that I'll never, ever forget for as long as I live. I was forced to swim in the intoxicating combination of her VO-5 hairspray and Emeraude perfume when my nose entwined itself in Mrs. Polisi's hairdo. Secondly, I shivered at the sensation of my face pressing into her make up-caked, hollow cheekbones. I felt just as squeamish by the way that her silvery eyeglass chain drooped against my flushed cheeks. How the rest of the neighbors clear around the cul-de- sac hadn't heard our taboo mating calls is beyond me. Each time my virgin jism splashed into her marshy sleeve, the entire bathroom resounded with my high- pitched squeals and Mrs. Polisi's Texas twang: "THAT'S IT---MAKE YER MOMMA PROUD, YOUNG'UN---KNOCK ME UP! IIIICCCHHHHHHH---I'M SORRY, MRS. POLISI---I'M TRYIN'! KEEP A GOIN'---POP THAT CHERRY IN ME---KEEP A CUMMIN'! I'M SORRY, MRS. POLISI---I'M JUICING----I'M S-O-R-R-Y! THAT'S YER DUTY---DUMP YER BOY BUTTER IN THERE'AH, BUSTER! I'M DOIN' IT, MRS. POLISI---EEEEWWWWWWW, I'M SQUIRTING!" After she'd managed to siphon me completely dry, I collapsed upon her shoulder---utterly vanquished and humiliated. While Sandra basked in the afterglow of her forbidden conquest, the john was felled by a deafening silence---broken only by the soft sucking and rushing of her breath as she finished her smoke. She kept me imprisoned between her mature loins as the syrupy combination of my creamy chastity and her thick feminine discharges drizzled out and soaked my teenage balls. It was as if she wanted me to languish in her swampy vagina so I'd always remember just who it was who plucked my cherry. She wasn't through with me, not by a long shot! For the remainder of that weekend until my parents returned, Sandra used me to satiate her womanly desires. And, did she e-v-e-r have an awesome libido for a fifty something lady! I wasn't even granted a respite for supper until after she escorted me to the inner sanctum of her boudoir to have her way with me all over again. She was so anxious to administer my second fuck that Sandra hadn't even bothered to disrobe. She merely kicked off her high heels and trussed up her skirt, before lounging back on her bed in all her spread-eagle splendor. Within moments, I found myself prostrated on her bed resplendent in my shirt, socks and sneakers.... hovering between Mrs. Polisi's up-bent legs in the act of "dutiful humping." Propping her head up on the pillows, she folded one arm over the other, smoking her Winstons in her increasingly judicial fashion. By this juncture she appeared to be meting out discipline by decreeing that I was going to "dew my duty" even if it took all night. (As an aside, I hadn't a clue as to what she meant when she kept referring to "dew your duty.") During our second fuck, Mrs. Polisi's bedroom reverberated with all the trappings of a hotel bridal suite. The rickety squeaking of her bedsprings and the rhythmic thumping of the headboard against the wall spelled ULTRA-FORBIDDEN, OLDER WOMAN-TO-YOUNGER BOY SEX! In the midst of all of this yet another of Mrs. Polisi's favorite songs played on the radio, "Rock The Boat," by The Hues Corporation. That tune had no sooner begun and she found herself clutching onto my butt globes and "fucking to the beat" all over again. Against the easy listening staccato of "Rock The Boat," she droned through her cigarette- dangling lips, leaving me to moan obediently: "THAT'S RIGHT, KENNETH---STUD ME LIKE THE BIG BOYS DEW! YES, MAMN---I WILL, MRS. POLISI! EEEEEWWWWNN, YES MAMN! Rock The Boat...Don't Tip The Boat Over! HIDE THAT SALAMI, YOUNG'UN! YEA'AH, KEEP A FUCKIN'! YES MAMN, I AM! I'M SORRY, MRS POLISI! YES MAMN! Rock The Boat...Oooohh-Ooh- Ooh-Ooohh-Oohh-Oooohhh!" Even before I squealed out fears of my liquid release, the glum look on my face tipped Sandra off to my approaching orgasm. She screwed me in and out as if she truly were a schoolmarm "tutoring a student in the facts of life." She got a kick from my woeful expression when she slithered my cock head to her engorged vulva....only to force me back downward with an assertive thrust on my hips. I had no recourse but to watch her peering up over those half-frame glasses, which rested perpetually on the lower bridge of her nose. Coupled with her beehive hairdo and swizzling cigarette, she looked increasingly like a school disciplinarian! And so, for the second time in my adolescent life this older woman had welcomed my teenage sperm into her more "experienced" womb. My cum tends to sling out and has the consistency of ropy egg whites. Once again, Mrs. Polisi obviously felt the egg-like texture of the boyhood I spurted into her innermost womanhood. Her mound lurched and undulated as she took my second cherry load with the anxiousness of a spinster who finally got married, complete with her Winston dancing in the corner of her dour lips! To my dismay, she again insisted that I warble out my adolescent litany. Between The Hues Corporation's song, Mrs. Polisi's rutting rants, and my pathetic whines, it truly sounded as if she was indeed a depraved teacher intent on impregnating herself with a student's jism: "MAKE ME A MOMMA, BUSTER--SPUNK IT IN ME! PUMP 'ER UP...FILL 'ER MUFF! EEEEEEEEWWWWWWNNNNN BOY, WE'RE FUCKIN'! Rock The Boat...Don't Tip The Boat Over! DEW IT LIKE THE BIG BOYS, KENNETH----SPILL IT IN ME!" Try as I may, I can't find the words to convey the mortifying shame that washed over me during those precious few moments. My humiliation was compounded because of the vice-like grip Sandra held on my pouncing groin, causing my elbows to crumple until I was again cheek-to-cheek with this woman. As before, my flaring nostrils were forced to retreat into her hairspray encrusted do. Once more, I found myself drowning in the aromas that I equated to those of an older, once-married woman....EMERAUDE PERFUME, VO-5 HAIRSPRAY, MATURE MUSKY CUNT, and STALE CIGARETTES! The more I became entangled in her hive coif, the more my voice was muffled as I obediently finished our "dirty duet": "Rock The Boat...Don't Rock The Boat, Baby! YER GONNA KNOCK ME UP IF IT TAKES ALL NIGHT, YOUNG'UN! STICK 'ER SLOT...MAKE 'ER HOT! EEEEEEEWWWWWNNNNNN BOY, I'M GOOSHING! Y'ALL CUN DEW IT, LITTLE MAN....MAKE A BABY IN THERE'AH! Rock The Boat...Don't Tip The Boat Over!" In short, that was only the beginning! One can surmise what transpired the rest of the night and over the course of the weekend. While having her way with me, she had me "servicing her" in ways that would probably shock even the most experienced brothel madam. The rest will have to wait until I finish penning the next installment. I'd love to receive feedback from any of you "forty something" or "fifty something" gals who harbor secret, unfulfilled fantasies such as these. My ultimate desire is to re-enact my virgin fuck on the commode, at the hands of another "elder smoker" the likes of Mrs. Polisi. END * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 16