("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `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 -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2007. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Alice, My Best Friend's Mother by The Tall Man (tallman034@aol.com) *** A young boy's first sexual experience is with his best friend's mother. (Fm-teen, ped, 1st) *** I invite you to read this simple story without hurrying; try to enjoy a little of the youthful nostalgia I have tried to create, before racing to the climax, so to speak. Whether the whole pleases you or not, intelligent and sensible comments and discussion will always be welcome, preferably not of the 'anonymous' kind. All characters in this story are over 18 years old. Part One – Spring "The first time..." When you're a normal, healthy male teenager, big, fit and strong like I was then, you could justify, at least to yourself, thinking that you were probably indestructible and that you would live forever. In that period of your youth, two things are important: sport and sex. Everything else is a serious hindrance, getting in the way of these two key preoccupations of eighteen year old adolescent lives. School studies, home chores, errands, nothing counts like the enthusiastic, committed and energetic use, misuse and abuse of your fast-growing and changing body, and of course, its attachments. Sport for me and my best friend Terry was running, jumping, standing still. It was hedonistic. Pushing our bodies to the limits of skill, endurance and then exhaustion, trying to prove, somehow without realising it, our inherent indestructibility. It was soccer, cricket, tennis, athletics and more. Terry was Bobby Moore and I was Gordon Banks. Then I was Ron Clarke and he was Mohammed Gammoudi battling out the Tokyo 1964 Olympic 10,000 metres final. Then we were someone else, world class sprinters, tennis men. It rained, it snowed, the sun shone; we didn't care what the weather was like. We were out there, thrashing our bodies and our limitless sporting imaginations. We were kicking around our much-used, rain-soaked leather football, which hurt when we headed for goal, especially when we felt its razor sharp knotted lace on the forehead. Or ripping layers of skin off our knees, bums and thighs on frozen turf when we fell tackling each other for ball possession. Or running around the school grass track, stopwatch in hand, dry mouthed and sweating under the hot sun of summer afternoons, shirts off, burning our young shoulders. Only the end of daylight on the sports field at the end of the day, the insistence of our parents, or the inevitable call from our bellies to fill up our reserves of energy dragged us away from these physical devotions; that was sport, for my pal Terry and me. Sex was imagination and masturbation. Terry I were inseparable after I helped him out of a one-sided school yard fight. He was not as physically developed as me, and needed a big hand when he was set upon by a group of half a dozen boys one day after school. We were roughly the same age, but I hardly knew Terry before then, since we didn't share the same class – he was brighter than me and had been elevated to a higher grade. I don't recall why the scrap began at all, maybe something to do with jealousy or just a nonsense argument that got out of hand; but I heard the rumpus and saw a howling crowd of school kids forming a circle around the action. When I saw the boots going in, poor Terry lying on the ground trying to make himself into a ball and protect what you might call his 'lower stomach', I simply reacted spontaneously to the unfairness of the attack, and waded in and thumped a couple of the most active and cowardly boys. I was tall and quite wide for my age, and with solid early adolescent muscles. I was not quite Cassius Clay, and my wild punches fell on raised arms, but my bravado brought things to a quick conclusion. If the boy-thugs had all turned on me at once, I may have finished up as another battered human football on the ground with Terry. As it happened, the speed and ferocity of my timely intervention was enough to make the others simply back off. There was an eyeball to eyeball standoff that lasted all of half a minute, then suddenly the fray was over and the threat, and the crowd of onlookers melted away. I saw resentment, but genuine fear in the eyes of the enemy; I guess that's the power of aggressive surprise, the rapid commando force. I helped Terry get up and limp his way home, got smiling warm thanks plus tea and tinned salmon sandwiches from his mother, and from that day on, Terry and I were pals. Though very different to each other in many ways, we began to share all our spare time together after school and as time went by, during weekends and holidays at the insistence of Terry's mother. I think she saw how well we got on together, and was pleased that he had such a close pal, with plenty of interests in common. Otherwise he may have finished up a loner. Terry was ginger haired, small and lightweight, freckly and had what you might say, a 'pug nose'. He didn't look strong from an athletic point of view, but was wiry and tenacious as a fox terrier in any competitive situation. I was dark haired, taller and heavier, so in a fifty-fifty challenge for a football I usually prevailed. But running was Terry's real strength. I was a good jumper and thrower, and could beat him easily over short sprint distances, but in anything longer than 440 yards, the longer the better, Terry was a winner. He ran upright, with a short but rapid stride and interminable stamina. And in soccer, I was the goalkeeper to Terry's nippy inside-left guile, ball control and penalty taking. We enjoyed each other's competitiveness, whatever the event. We were best pals, and we never had a cross word, right up to the day he died. Our friendship grew and grew. Soon, I started spending the happiest of weekends and holidays at Terry's home. He lived with his mother in a bought house. 'Bought' meant semi-detached, bay windows, no rent to pay. A small rose bed and driveway at the front with a car on it, a Morris 1000, and a big, lawned garden behind. And inside, carpets everywhere, classy, heavy furniture, a television. Later they got a telephone. You appreciate a house like that, when all you've been used to in your life is a terraced house rented from the council, with no garden front or back. We had no television and no car either at our house, until I was much older. I was happy, living there with my mum and dad and my younger sister Carol in our council owned house, but our style of living was just not in the same class by a long way as that of Terry and his mum. My parents were of what you would call modest means, working class. Both manual workers, their education unfinished, obliged to leave school early to earn money and supplement their parents' budgets until they met each other and got married. Now, making all the various ends meet for their own family on their irregular and meagre wages, was a constant challenge. And they wanted Carol and me to have a better schooling than they had enjoyed, so all that made it tougher on their pockets. We were happy, and we got by, that's all I could say about those days. Seeing how others lived was a real eye opener, and that's how it was when I was at Terry's house, where I was always treated really well. I didn't know whether his mother was rich, but she certainly wasn't as poor as we were, and didn't work either. For me those weekends and holidays were very, very special - luxurious in many ways, and I will never forget them as long as I live. Especially that first full summer, when my sexual experiences began. Terry's mother was called Alice, though I never called her Alice. I never called her Mrs. Owens; I never called her anything. She always used my full name - Anthony – which I loved to hear, never calling me 'Tony' or 'Tone'. She was a widow, but I didn't know the details of her husband's death. There was quite an old framed photograph of a handsome, stocky, uniformed man on the wall over the fireplace; I thought he'd been a soldier, but Terry said he was a policeman, and that's all he knew, being a baby when his father died. If he knew any more, he never let on, and I never understood why he wouldn't have been curious about his own father. We just didn't talk about it. Alice was the kindest, gentlest and most beautiful woman imaginable in the whole wide world. If that sounds like the words of a love-lorn teenager, then so be it. At the time, I didn't reflect on her age; she was just a grown woman, a mother; but she must have been in her late thirties. She was tall and slender, with long arms and shapely but strong looking legs, not an ounce of fat anywhere; she was also elegant and immaculate in her style and dress, whatever she wore. I loved to see her hips sway when she wore a 'Charleston' dress or skirt. I imagined later, that my diminutive pal Terry must have taken after his dad, so different was he from his mother's intense beauty. She had deep brown eyes, a longish nose and very white, even teeth. Her pale flawless skin was totally absent of freckles, became lightly bronzed in summer. Her slightly wavy blond hair was always boyish short, delightfully exposing the curve of her pale neck. Any youth such as I would be, of course obsessed with breasts and other bits of the female body, but it was her neck which fascinated me from the start. Even so, her slim body had all the feminine curves where they mattered, including grapefruit-sized breasts and a pouting, rounded bum below a slim waist. Such was the sum total of her woman's magnetism, her physique and personality, her smiling warmth and gaiety, her presence when she was in the room, it was hard not to keep looking at her. I never sensed her to be in any mood other than happy, and I probably fell in love with her right from the start, in my naοve, adolescent way. To begin with, I shared Terry's bedroom with him, a large room by our own humble council house standards. There were twin single beds separated by a bedside table, wide wardrobes along one wall; there was a large crock washbasin with high mirror in the corner, by a French window which gave onto an iron staircase leading down to the neatest garden at the rear. Either in this room, or in the garden when we were not kicking a ball around somewhere else or running ourselves ragged, we had great times together, Terry and I. Laughing and joking, reading sports magazines and imagining how it would be at the top of a sporting career, admired by the whole country for our physical prowess, breaking records, scoring hat-tricks, signing autographs, meeting the Queen. Sometimes we could be quiet, doing our homework together, last minute stuff. Mostly Terry helped me, rather than the other way round; he was brighter than me. Then, ogling over well-thumbed pages of Playboy magazines, imagining how it would be to actually touch the breasts or the thighs of the women in the pictures, stick our young cocks into them. Or feeling up the girls in our school, especially the older ones, who had bigger tits. More than a little curious to see (one day) further into and between those casually positioned but cunningly photographed thighs into their dark, secret, hidden parts; it was called 'vagina' wasn't it, the sexual organ of a woman? Talking about it, each of us feeling that astonishing power of adolescent erection inside our pants or underneath our pyjamas, and then masturbating privately into our handkerchiefs, unseen but with over-excited running commentary for the benefit of the other, under the bed covers after lights out. I never saw Terry's erect penis, nor he mine, and once or twice I actually wondered if he really was doing it like I was, if he actually could ejaculate yet. I never was able to confirm it. Otherwise, we shared everything in those happiest of weekends and holidays at Terry's house. Or almost. I enjoyed especially breakfast time at Terry's house. We sat at a table in a bright new verandah just off the kitchen, on the east side of the house. Weekends we were usually a little late to get ourselves out of bed and Alice had already eaten, so she fussed around us, serving us big bowls of cereals and endless slices of toast with mugs of sweet tea. I always sat facing the kitchen, where I could watch Alice glide around, floating almost, in perpetual motion, pausing only now and again to ask us if we wanted more, sometimes to ruffle Terry's hair, and call him 'Tel', which he hated. She did it to wind him up, of course; it was part of their incessant game, the heart of their relationship. She teased him a lot, and although he usually blushed and pretended to be embarrassed in front of me, I knew that he was pleased to have his beautiful mother's attention. As she floated, she often hummed some pop tune or other. Her favourite was Bobby Darin. As she turned and twirled around us at the breakfast table, I was constantly aware of her light perfume in my nostrils. Whilst chatting away with Terry, my head rotated on its axis, as I watched the furls of her dress or skirt swirl around her very feminine hips and thighs. There was glass all around, in the verandah and the kitchen windows, and there was almost always light behind her, even on a dull day. This light allowed me to see the shadow of her body when she was wearing light clothing, the outline of her bra covered breasts, her bum cheeks, even her knickers. I imagined too, her nipples pushing against the inside cup of her bra, saw the bra straps behind her back. It was the nearest thing to heaven. My 'morning glory' became a throbbing nuisance under my Y-Front underpants, with a longing fuelled partly by what I saw and partly by what I imagined I saw, or longed to see one day. I ached for Alice to tousle my hair too, like she did for Terry. To feel that soft hand, those manicured fingers on my head. My own mother, whom I loved to bits, had never been so attentive with Carol and me. She did everything necessary, and more, to raise us and care for us, but there was never that complicity which was so evident between Alice and Terry. I guess the absence of a father made the difference; Terry got all the attention the missing father didn't get. My own father was there in body, absent in spirit most of the time. My mother didn't neglect us; she attended to our every need. But she was a working woman, with rough hands, and she never bestowed upon us that gentleness, never that kind of caress that Terry received all the time when he was around his mother. It was clear that they were very close; Alice always had time for him, a gentle word, a teasing remark. They shared things. How I envied him; how I wanted to share that mother's affection with my best friend Terry, as well as all the other good things we had together. Whatever the season, our free days together were mostly spent in sport, and then sometimes we would go to the cinema in the evenings. Alice would go with us if she felt like it, if the film appealed to her. It was a special treat to be seated one each side of her and begin to appreciate for the first time how sexually arousing and incredibly exciting for a young man can be the intimacy of a darkened cinema. For me, it was the highlight of a weekend, breathing in Alice's perfume, allowing my sometimes bare arm to touch accidentally, even press against hers on the armrest between us; feeling the throbbing of my penis in my Y-Fronts, stimulated by this simple closeness, this innocent physical contact with a grown female, the beautiful mother of my best friend. To hear her laugh at something in the film was musical; if the film was a frightener, letting out a squeal she would grip Terry's arm and mine and squeeze both at the same moment of terror. I loved that squeeze, it made my heart leap and my cock leap, and made it to throb harder. Occasionally, Alice would turn towards us one at a time and pass a bag for us to dip in and choose a toffee. Her face would be so close to mine, her firm round breast would press against my arm. I was in paradise. I would twitch hard and long throughout each entire sιance, not really wanting this precious, extended moment of pleasure to end, but nevertheless thinking all the time of rushing back to Terry's house and rubbing myself to a hasty climax under the bed clothes before going to sleep. On one occasion I did it in the cinema toilets, such was the intensity of my excitement that evening. The urge was so strong that I just couldn't wait, and so during the publicity I excused myself, almost ran to the toilets, where in very short time I was locked in a cubicle, had my trousers and Y-Fronts down to my ankles and was rubbing my swollen organ, whispering Alice's name and ejaculating powerfully into the w.c. pot. Washing my hands for fear of anyone smelling the odour of my sex, then returning to the cinema flushed, but the colour of my cheeks unseen in the dark, I settled back into my seat next to Alice, my arm back against hers on the armrest between us. Breathing deeply her scent, before too long my young penis was filling up once again. Paradise resumed. And so our weekends and holidays took shape, the seasons came and went, and I spent all the time possible at Terry's house. My mother began to refer to me as the prodigal son, which amused everybody at home. But these were delirious days for me, and my mother even remarked, not unhappily, how well behaved I was, and how the food bill seemed reduced since Terry and I had been pals. And how quiet it seemed at weekends; Carol was happy to see me out of the way, calming at least for two days and two nights a week the competitiveness which always exists between siblings when they are young. I sometimes wondered if my father even noticed, as he said very little, whether I was there or not. My mother said he was pleased that I was doing well at school, that's all. Then, the following Spring, something quite unexpected happened at Terry's house, which would change my life forever. It was a warm Saturday morning in late Spring, with clear blue skies and Summer temperatures already, in early June, the kind of balmy day we used to get way back then. Terry and I came down for breakfast late as usual, lightly dressed in shorts and short-sleeved shirts, ready for an active day, though our precise activities hadn't yet been formulated. I heard Alice's humming before we even got to the bottom of the stairs, and there she was floating hypnotically around the kitchen. I loved her neck, watched her mouth move with her singing a few broken lines of 'Things', one of Darin's older hits. Funny how songs often stick in your memory, remind you of important days or events in your life. Our bowls of cereal were ready and we tucked in. As ever, I followed Alice's movements across the kitchen, in and out of the verandah, hoping to see the outlines of her body against the light coming through the glass. I was not disappointed; it was a brilliantly sunny morning, and the whole kitchen and verandah were flooded with brightness. I was able to see secretly every curve, every outline of underwear and body under her light cotton summer dress. Even better, the dress left her arms bare, was a little lower cut than usual, and as she bent over the table to place our toast and tea, I caught a glimpse of the sensual upper curve of her breasts for the very first time. It was the best opportunity yet to lose myself in my fantasies, and of course I was harder than ever under my shorts and Y-Fronts. Luckily my significant bulge was well out of sight under the table; now and again, when Alice's back was turned and Terry wasn't looking my way, I would let my hand slip below to give my favourite toy a rub or a squeeze, whilst gazing at Alice's lovely bum cheeks, but mostly I just fidgeted, enjoying the friction of my underpants against my straining organ and the subsequent tingling sensation as it throbbed. Had we stayed there all morning, I'm sure I could have come in my Y-Fronts without more effort than that, the fidgeting and the constant friction, and the vision of loveliness before my young eyes. As our rapid consumption of buttered toast began to slow down and our tea mugs were drained empty, Alice asked Terry to go get some more bread from the shop, insisting that otherwise, there would not be enough for our lunch packs later. We couldn't, after all run ourselves ragged all day without food. He made a face hopeless of reluctance, so Alice swept up behind him and tousled his hair in her teasing way and squeezed his neck hard, so that he ducked his head and squirmed under her hand. I thought, longingly: "I wish that was me she was touching." After a moment of mock resistance, Terry got up from the table, Alice pressed a few coins into his hand and playfully tickled his ribs all the way to the verandah door. Then Terry said: "Come on, let's go Anthony." I made a lame excuse that I was going up to brush my teeth or some such, so Terry went alone to the shop. I think he was for an instant probably Armin Hary or Peter Radford en route to an impossible ten seconds dead 100 metres, the way he took off from his blocks that morning, but I forgot to ask him later. In no time at all he was out of the verandah and out of sight. It was not brushing my teeth I had in mind, though - not straight away. After watching the outline of Alice's wispy underwear, her breasts and bum move under her dress against the light of the kitchen and verandah, my aroused organ required urgent attention. I couldn't wait to get up to the bedroom I shared with Terry and take advantage of his absence to masturbate privately, such had these amazing images stimulated my brain and penis during the last half hour. I calculated I had at least fifteen minutes to complete the operation – more than enough, in my state of tumescence. Excusing myself rapidly, despite the impediment under my shorts, I was Lynn (the Leap) Davies as I sped upstairs, twenty six feet 5Ύ inches exactly, and ran panting into the bedroom, dropping my shorts to my ankles and kicking them off as soon as I closed the door. My hardness sprung free and up, as I dragged off my Y-Fronts and shirt and threw them onto the thick carpeted floor near my bed. The cool air on my hot, sweaty genitals made me feel exceptionally excited, and I immediately took myself in hand. I was already rubbing the full length of my bulging-veined penis, thinking of Alice and her delectable body and the slope of her neck and her pale bare arms, and the curve of her real breasts that I had seen for the first time a short while ago. I had to stop the friction as I dropped to my knees, fumbled under my bed and pulled out our only copy of a well-abused Playboy magazine. With my erection curved out and up, rigid and bobbing up and down, I padded over to the washbasin in the corner near the French window and looked at myself in the mirror above it. For a second or two I admired my young muscular frame, which I knew to be more developed than most boys of my age, with its adolescent hairs here and there, especially in the pubic region. I opened the magazine at a page which showed a colour picture of a blonde with the largest, big-nippled breasts in the whole edition and stood it up against the mirror, behind the taps so that it wouldn't tumble over. I gazed at my pumped up teenage penis, imagined that it was the longest, the fattest and hardest, and the most potent in the universe, as it waved up proudly and throbbing, waiting for the attention which I had promised it a few moments before. I imagined what I might do with this indestructible weapon, if I had the opportunity to abuse a real woman like Alice. I lusted after those paper breasts in the Playboy magazine, and started to rub, too hard, too quickly. Too quickly, I needed to slow down, appreciate to the maximum the privacy and the intimacy I was sharing both with this unreal specimen of American printed fantasy womanhood and, in my head, with the most perfect of all best friends' mothers. I slowed my pace – after all I had time before Terry would reappear. As I rubbed more lazily my turgid tool, my eyes closed, and I concentrated now on the image of the slender, adorable frame of Alice. But she was clothed; how I would love to see Alice in the same state of undress as this anonymous American pinup with bloated balloons. Alice with her flawless slim frame and grapefruit breasts, her perfectly rounded bum and long legs. Maybe even peek at her hairy sex triangle, something I had never seen, not in a magazine, not anywhere except sketched in school biology books. Playboy magazine didn't even show wisps of pubic hair in those days. I rubbed and I rubbed, slowly and with a lightness of touch now dedicated to Alice, and I began to whisper her name over and over, trying to imagine that her fingers had replaced mine. Moisture oozed generously from the eye of my cock. Now and again, I opened my eyes, looking at my hand stroking the length of my organ, then casting my eyes over the large breasts before me in the magazine. I turned a page with my other hand, now saw the first afro-american Playgirl, coffee coloured breasts, big black bulging nipples, then eyes closed, back to Alice. My heart was beating fast. I gripped my fist around the length of my cock, placed my thumb against the engorged end, smoothed the glistening pre-cum around the head as I pumped, tingling with anticipation of my climax. I scratched the fingers of my free hand underneath my tightening balls, and I knew I couldn't hold out for long. Then something caught the corner of my eye. A movement. I turned my head to the French window, and there was Alice. Watering can in hand, her light cotton dress fluttered around her calves in a slight breeze, and she was bending over a pot of geraniums just outside, on the balcony top of the iron staircase. In that second or two, towering over her, I saw more of her breasts than I had been able to see at breakfast, and despite my embarrassment and the panic which was now beginning to bang in my chest, an intense throb jerked my penis within my fist, and I mentally photographed an image of those soft globes. They were real, not paper. Alice jumped slightly as if startled to realise there was someone beside her, just the other side of the glass; her head suddenly turned towards me and water spilled from her watering can, missing the geranium pot over which she was bent and showering her pretty bare feet. I was caught. Time seemed to stand still. She ignored her sopping feet, straightened up unbearably slowly, and without moving, looked expressionless into my eyes, then down at my crotch, which I could not hide; even with my hand around its length, an inch or two of my penis were still visible and there was no way to make that disappear instantly from view. Her mouth opened, her brow furrowed perceptibly, producing a puzzled expression on her face. I was well and truly caught. My chest thudded, the blood rushed to my face and head. I saw that Alice's eyes were wide, her cheeks became flushed. Mine were even redder than hers, I was sure. Alice half smiled, moved towards the French window, raised her free hand, as though waving hello or goodbye, I wasn't sure what the gesture meant. She dropped her hand onto the iron door handle, at the same instant placing the trembling watering can on the iron balcony and treating me to yet another glimpse of those pale, smooth orbs. All thought of spurting my semen into the washbasin, dedicating my young seed to my friend's mother and to American breasthood, were now instantly forgotten. I came out of my quasi-hypnotic state and headed at almost a leap out of Alice's range of vision to the safety of my bed, grabbing the nearest thing, my Y- Fronts, from the floor as I sped. I was not fast enough, I had triple jumped in slow motion action replay. The door of the French windows opened inwards and Alice was in the room, barely six feet from the bed, before I had time to slip the Y-Fronts over my feet. At a loss as to what I could possibly do to salvage the situation and my dignity, I dropped my naked buttocks down on the bed, clutching my underpants to my penis, which was slowly draining itself of blood, and closed my knees together. My heart and head were beating hard and loud with pure and perfect panic. No words came out, my brain raced, searching for something to say. I saw that Alice was flushed. My head was down, I was fidgeting, squirming even, vainly trying to cover myself. I turned slightly sideways, towards the wall. And I wanted to disappear, knowing that there was nothing I could do to make the clock go backwards. 'What is done cannot be undone', my mother words echoed in my guilty subconscious. I knew that Alice had to be looking down at me in extreme anger from just six feet away, and I was frozen to the bed with fear and shame. I heard her breathing. All I could think of saying say was: "Sssssooo..." But she cut me short, hardly had I opened my mouth. I heard her breathing. "Don't say anything" she said, quietly, very calmly, too calmly it seemed to me, in the circumstances. "It's alright, Anthony. Don't say a word." Even now, here, in these few moments which would probably be the most embarrassing, terrible moments of my young life, to hear her say my name and those soothing words was just magical; my heart leapt, continued to beat hard and fast against my rib cage. I tried again: "But, I'm..." Again she cut me short with a "Ssshhhh..." Up to now, she had stayed by the French window to my left, not moving, and I was there seated on the bed, half turned away from her, my head down, wishing I was invisible, or somewhere else – at the shop with Terry, playing football, at home, in detention punishment at school - dead, anywhere but here. Then Alice moved, as though in ice-skating slow motion, towards me. Still looking down, I saw out of the corner of my eye her bare, dripping feet and ankles glide noiselessly across the carpet and come to rest only inches from mine. Then she sat down beside me, half turned in my direction, facing my trembling bare back and shoulders. The bed dipped slightly with her weight, bounced and settled, and I felt the lightness of her cotton dress flutter against my sweating skin. Her cool, soft hand came up to my shoulder and rested there, pulled slightly, as though to turn me round. I resisted, then complied, turning slowly my upper body towards her. We were now face to face, but still I did not have the courage to raise my thudding head, such was my youthful humiliation and turmoil. Her soft voice again: "Anthony, dear, it's alright. Really. You musn't fret about this. There's nothing to be ashamed of... I'm sorry I came up the stairs at the wrong moment... I didn't think... I should have respected your privacy." I began to stammer again, but she just said "Ssshhh... it's alright." Then the most wonderful thing happened, something which I will treasure for the rest of my life. Without words, only gestures and coaxing sounds, Alice took hold of my scrumpled Y-Fronts, with which I had tried to cover my shame, and tugged them from my trembling, white- knuckled hands. Not violently, but firmly, as though not prepared to allow the slightest refusal. I held on for a second or two, then let go of them as they slipped away, replaced the underpants with my hands, cupped together over my half engorged penis, my sparse pubic hairs and testicles squashed between my thighs. I felt more naked than ever, vulnerable and foolish. Alice then leaned over and took both my hands in hers, her soft, pale, cool woman's hands with long slender fingers and short, manicured nails, pulling my hot fists away from my pubes and holding them up between us at breast level. Letting go with one hand for a moment, she placed a palm on the side of my face, slid a couple of fingers under my chin, and raised my head so that she was able to look into my eyes for the first time since our encounter at the French window. I was flushed, there must have been a frightened and embarrassed look in my eyes, but I noticed an incredible kindness in hers, a softness to treasure, then a curious, delicate smile on her mouth. I heard her breathing, smelled her fragrance, and although her dark brown magnetic eyes held mine, I was aware of the closeness of her pale, swanlike neck, and the swell of her breasts just below, rising and falling. In any other such circumstances, any other moment in my life, I would have been several feet off the ground to have Alice so close to me and holding my face and hands. Hesitating only a few seconds, her one hand stroking my cheek, her other hand dropped into my lap, very delicately coming to rest palm down on my half engorged penis. Closing her fingers over my semi-erect organ, she squeezed it ever so lightly and lifted it up, turned her hand around until it was underneath, fingers extended, with the head of my sex in her palm. I gasped as she closed her fingers again around my cock and squeezed delicately, and despite my confused state of mind, my hardness began to return very quickly, my growing stalk soon filled her hand and reached a state of considerable rigidity. The head of my cock was already moist, and became more moist with each passing second, as more pre-cum dribbled from its enlarged hole. Not knowing what to do with them, my own hands remained together motionless, raised up between her cotton covered grapefruit breasts and my own smooth, bare, thumping chest. I shivered. Alice leaned her head to one side slightly, looked down at her hand and my penis within it, squeezed again ever so gently, then more firmly, and began to move her hand in a measured back and forth movement, the swollen head nudging her now moist, soft palm. My chest was hammering harder than ever. Her scent filled my head. I thought I heard her breathe something like "Handsome" but it was faint. Despite my fear, my embarrassment and humiliation of the last few minutes, my excitement was total, and with the manual attention Alice was now giving my penis, hardly any pressure was needed to bring me to a complete, pulsating erection; I knew that I would soon be ready to ejaculate. As she watched her hand gently and unhurriedly rubbing my swollen, blood engorged hardness, my eyes were drawn naturally to her adorable neck and down into the top of her dress and the curves of her breasts; rising and falling faster now, it seemed she was almost panting. I wanted to kiss that neck, those soft globes of female flesh, but I was frozen. There was nothing I could do to stop this unplanned, unreal and unmerited but intensely pleasurable and exciting episode in my life. I deserved to go to hell, and would have gone there willingly in exchange for these moments of pleasure; here I was in an unimaginably heavenly place and time, with a woman who could have been mistaken for an angel. My breathing became rapid, and I opened my panting mouth, tried to speak again. But somehow Alice knew that I was about to explode. She looked instantly into my eyes, her face only inches from mine, such that I could feel and smell her sweet, toothpaste breath wafting over me. She stroked my cheek, then placed her fingers onto my lips, forming a soundless "Ssshhhh..." with her own mouth, as my legs began to tremble. I felt the most intense, familiar tingling in my balls, then it increased in intensity, lurched rapidly along the length of my cock to the swollen head, just before my semen erupted forth in a powerful jet – more powerful than I think I had ever experienced in my young life of masturbation up to that day. My rib cage hammered, my whole body shuddered; I gasped out loud, my head fell back and I closed my eyes. My hips jerked up, forward and back spontaneously, as my cock pulsed and throbbed again and again discharging its load, Alice kept her extended fingers firmly closed around the length of my pulsating cock, twisted her hand slightly and caught all the juice I had to offer in her palm. I wanted this climax to go on forever; as it was, it seemed like a long time. My clenched hands separated and dropped down, falling quite naturally and without premeditation onto Alice's waist. I pressed my palms up against her rib cages, then down against her hips. My eyes opened, and still trembling in my lower body, I looked down into her cleavage again, up to her face, then to where her hand continued to clasp me and where now her finger and thumb were squeezing the pulsating head of my organ. Each tiny squeeze caused another eruption of pleasure at the end of my cock and a jerk of my lower body, and sent more seminal fluid seeping out, until every drop was drained from me. As I panted wordlessly, she held my cock for a while longer, gently, lovingly I thought, without pressure, just holding it delicately and occasionally stroking it with her open fingers. Some of the seminal liquid dripped from her hand and began to run down onto my testicles, but Alice seemed unconcerned, just watching the thick, white slippery substance as though she was genuinely fascinated by its phenomenal quantity, as though pondering secretly its life-giving qualities. Eyes sparkling, she looked up into mine, then down at her hand again, a beautiful, relaxed, reassuring smile on her soft face. I will never forget that smile, and I knew instantly that I would love Alice for the rest of my days. She let out a sigh, and this time I heard the word clearly: "Lovely...." I was still breathing hard as ever; I think tears formed in my eyes, I was so totally overwhelmed with pleasure and joy from sharing these treasured seconds of my youth with Alice. Neither of us said anything for a few moments. Then, letting go of my deflating penis, disengaging her waist from my hands, Alice stood up unhurriedly, holding her cupped, semen filled hand raised in front of her. I watched her bare feet on the carpet, her hips swaying as she glided over to the washbasin, the scene of my initial humiliation and the turning point of my young life. She rinsed that one hand under the tap for a while, watched the water flowing over her fingers as if in a daze, as though contemplating the earth shattering significance of her recent act, then seemed to snap out of it and quickly washed both her hands with soap. As she did so, I watched her bend over and appear to look closely at the Playboy magazine still propped up behind the taps, still open at the page with the coffee coloured breasts. From across the room I surreptitiously admired her adorable bum, hips and shapely calves as she did this. The, straightening up, drying her hands on a small towell, she looked into the mirror, into my reflected eyes and her face lit up with a wonderful, wide mouthed smile, teeth glistening in the light from the French windows. A different kind of smile: the fun smile I had seen so many times when she was around the house during my visits, especially when she was teasing Terry. She put down the towell, picked up the Playboy, turned around to where I was still sitting on the bed, silent and motionless, drained and entranced by what had just happened to me. She leaned back slightly, her bum resting against the washbasin. Closing the Playboy and holding it up at shoulder level and waving it, the pages flickering noisily, she looked directly into my face, still fun-smiling and said quietly: " Perhaps you won't need this now, Anthony." Still in shock, but my breathing and heartbeat beginning to calm down a little, I held her gaze, shook my head and smiled shyly, like a schoolboy who had just been scolded, then let out an embarrassed laugh, looking down again. My hands had found their way back to my crotch, to cover my shrunken penis and balls, and the now cold residue of seminal fluid upon them. I imagined Alice's eyes following mine down to where I was looking, then my gaze returned to find hers again. I was aware of a few magical moments, where Alice stood calmly, unspeaking, looking down at me, smiling into my eyes, and I looked up at her with what she could only have interpreted as total adolescent love and adoration. She opened her mouth to speak and her body leaned towards me. I thought she was going to sit down beside me again, but then we both heard, at the same instant, Terry's panting and his slapping footsteps arriving downstairs at the verandah entrance. Maybe he was Peter Snell right then, just winning another 800 metres race by a street. Alice and I leapt, simultaneously into wordless action. I was on my feet in a second. Alice slipped across to smile into my eyes, caress my cheek one last time with a cool, freshly washed hand, wafting the odour of Lux toilet soap into my nostrils, before spinning around and leaving the bedroom the way she had come in, pulling the door of the French windows silently closed behind her. I wanted to touch her, kiss her, caress her adorable neck, anything. I wanted to tell her how I felt, garble my eternal love for her. But she was gone in less than a heartbeat. Naked, I strode over to the French windows and watched her back, her hand on the rail, her long pale neck, and the flow of her cotton summer dress flutter across her strong, shapely legs and hips, as she descended the iron staircase like a light footed athlete, two steps at a time into the garden below. She could have been Mary Rand, but she was the greatest love of my young life. By the time Terry had put the loaf of fresh bread on the kitchen worktop, had searched downstairs for me and his mother, and finding no-one, had bounded breathlessly up the stairs to the bedroom we shared, I was dressed and brushing my teeth. I tried to be relaxed and calm, though my mind and heart were spinning in turmoil. I had just experienced something which was, at my tender age, nothing less than incredible. An event beyond any of my adolescent imaginings, which could have taken place only somewhere in my wildest fantasies, before that totally life- transforming day in summer. Only a few minutes before, I had felt extremes of sexual pleasure at the hands of the most beautiful woman on earth. This was something I knew I couldn't, and never would, share with my best friend Terry, the son of that same most beautiful woman on earth. Part Two – Summer After that incident with Alice, with the mother of my best friend Terry, my sexual and emotional life changed dramatically and permanently. I felt that I was suddenly growing up fast. And I was totally and unconditionally and forever in love with Alice. Before that day, Alice had been a beautiful fantasy, a mature mother, adored by her son's friend, but unattainable. A kind of dreamlike beauty floating before my eyes, totally out of reach except in my wildest imaginings. Now, suddenly she seemed within my grasp, though my youthful head and heart still didn't know how that might be achieved. But it didn't stop my heart and body wanting Alice, nor my head thinking about ultimate fulfillment with her; it was what seemed like the Holy Grail as I look back now, many years later. I wanted to be with her, love her, possess her, marry her. Make her my own. It didn't matter that she was a real grown up and I was only a school kid of eighteen, merely a young adult; it didn't matter that she was Terry's mother. I felt sure, in my immature way, that my pal would understand. He knew nothing, of course, nothing of what had happened between us, about the day when his beloved mother took me in hand and gave me the most powerful sexual experience of my young life. And for now I couldn't even begin to discuss it with him. But how I wanted to say something, to share my very mixed but sincere emotions with my best friend – like we shared almost everything else. From her side, Alice behaved for a time as though nothing had occurred between us. Even if I had been able to find the courage, even if there happened to be a moment of privacy when I could speak to her, it would have been a major step for me, to bring the matter up. It was especially difficult, since Terry and I were almost always together. It seemed that I would never be alone with Alice again in the same way as had happened by chance that Saturday morning in Spring. My gut ached for her. Each time I spent my weekends and school breaks at Terry's house, I arrived with anticipation, trepidation, with trembling legs and thudding chest, not to mention my twitching penis. Just thinking about Alice, wherever I was, at home, at school, anywhere, made my heart beat faster, brought on rapid sexual excitement. My penis reacted spontaneously to the vaguest thought of her slim body, her long elegant legs, her grapefruit sized breasts, the pale cleavage I had just once, and once only gazed upon and smelled from very close. And that's what was happening every day now, from morning to night. Her soft hands, which had stroked my face and massaged my young penis to delightfully intense ejaculation, were constantly in my mind. I was lost in love, and didn't know what to do next. Except to celebrate my love for Alice by indulging in frequent masturbation. At night, every night, I couldn't sleep until I had relived those few minutes of Alice's gentle ministrations to my turgid penis. I held my cock the way she did, turning my hand around so that the bulbous head rested in my palm, my fingers stretched along the length of it and rubbing ever so delicately, like she had. And then, eyes closed, whispering Alice's name, I would come quickly, spurting hard into my own hand, imagining it was Alice's woman's hand. I went to sleep thinking about her. I woke up thinking about her. When I awoke, I was hard again – for Alice. I lived for the weekends I would spend at Terry's house. I had my best friend, our sport and fun together, and I had Alice, focus of all my youthful affection and unbridled but secret desire. From Alice's side, there was only one change in all this, but it was a very important change. When we were at Terry's house, at table, and Alice was floating around us serving food and spoiling us as usual, she occasionally touched me. It was almost nothing, but it made my heart leap and my already hard cock jerk too. She had the habit of ruffling Terry's hair quite often, or squeezing his neck, causing him to duck his head and wriggle. One day, following some ribald remark or other she ruffled our hair, Terry's and mine at the same time. It was a giant leap forward for me, and my chest swelled up with hope and anticipation. I couldn't help smiling with inner pride. It was the first time I had felt her soft hand on me since that earth shattering day a few weeks before when her palm had received my seminal fluid and her fingers had squeezed the head of my youthful penis for the last time, milking the residual drops of liquid and pleasure from me. *** I waited impatiently for the next occasion she would touch me, and it became a ritual, each time we were at table; it was enough to just to say something amusing, make her laugh, and the teasing began. And occasionally, the touching. Spring slipped away, and as we drifted into summer and towards the end of school term, I began to think about getting a job, once the exams were finished. Terry and I had both been doing pretty well at school, academically and in sport. Terry, the cleverer of us two was already planning to stay on and continue his studies at college or university, but I'd had enough; I wanted to get out of school, work, earn money, to be a grown-up, so I began to search for opportunities and careers. During this period of balmy summer weather that was now beginning, Terry and I carried on spending our leisure time together, but on the sporting level, we both gradually and separately channelled our energies into specialist events - prompted by the looming school sports competition and the desire to prove that we were the best. We were strong, fit, fast; we could have done anything, any event, and done it well, but we were keen to impress everyone, especially the girls around us at school. So we elected to go for specialist training and intense practise, each in his own event. To show the world that we were winners, perhaps future champions, we worked hard at being the best. Terry, one of the best runners in school over 440 yards or more, concentrated hard on his running and I went for high jump. I was good over sprints, but I knew that there were one or two who might have the edge on the big day, so I worked on weights at the local gym to improve my leg strength, and on jumping technique. In those days, western roll was the main style taught at school, but for a while I had been watching the technique of the veteran Russian, Valery Brumel and others, and managed to acquire a neat straddle which I knew would allow me to improve my heights. The newly developed and much discussed technique which eventually became known as the 'Fosbury Flop' was out of the question, since the school had no super-soft landing pads like those at international venues. We couldn't risk breaking our necks falling headfirst into a sandpit. But with my fast improving straddle, barring accidents, muscle injury or nervous technical errors, I knew I could win the senior high jump, even if there were others older than me in the frame for the title. I was going to pass the six foot barrier, and I would one day be the new British hope in high jumping, much needed after so many years without a true world champion. I believed it. Exams were finished, I was feeling confident about forthcoming results, and as the end of school term approached and the school sports day rushed upon us, I felt really good about my training. And, following one or two successful interviews for jobs, I was more and more self-assured about my future. I was also feeling more confident around girls of my age. I had started seeing Susan, who was a student in the same year during this period. My head and my heart were full of Alice, but more and more, Susan began to figure in my adolescent thoughts. Slowly but surely, my focus on Alice was dragged away at odd times by Susan's existence. She was slim and willowy, with frizzy brown hair and I found her really pretty, with her deep brown eyes, her small nose and generous mouth, a great smile. We first started talking properly during a school outing, when we found ourselves sitting together on the coach for two and a half hours on the outward journey. During the ride our arms brushed, and I was reminded of those visits to the cinema with Terry and his mother, when the pressure of Alice's arm was enough to trigger off my throbbing erection in the darkened salle. Susan and I got on so well, that I for one was disappointed when the first part of the day came to an end and we were obliged to leave the coach for lunch, a castle tour followed by a nature ramble in separate groups. Later, at the end of a long afternoon, weary from our walking, Susan and I quite naturally and spontaneously linked again up and settled down in the coach, side by side for the return journey. Seeing her gorgeous open smile as she flopped into her seat ahead of me, I had the feeling that she was as pleased to see me as I was to see her. I had noticed for the first time too, her tiny waist and pert bum under her school summer dress, as she mounted the steps to the coach. Despite my 'experience' with Alice, I had a long way to go before finding real confidence and total ease with girls. But I soon felt pretty relaxed with Susan, and we were able to find lots of things to talk about – mostly about school, about studying, and about sport. Susan was in the school netball team, and I had noticed her before, on the school netball court during matches. She was not a bad player at all, despite being small, and her slim shapely legs impressed me, outdoors in sharp cold weather which made her flesh pink. The nice thing about watching the girls play netball was seeing real female legs and thighs, those parts which were usually well covered inside school, revealed as they jumped and ran and their sports skirts flew up in the draught. And watching all those multiple bouncing, pouting breasts on their nubile adolescent bodies, especially when it was cold, when we could actually make out their hard budding nipples underneath their sports blouses. There was always a good crowd of gawping young male spectators for the girl's events, whatever the sport. During the return ride from that school day out, I was enjoying the touch of Susan's arm against mine as we unconsciously sat closer, and I couldn't help feeling more than a little tumescent. As the journey progressed, the conversation between Susan and me gradually slowed down, tiredness and the rhythm of the coach finally took over to the extent that her eyes closed and she nodded off. Within minutes, her arm pressed harder against mine, and her head dropped gently down onto my shoulder. She was breathing deeply. I felt like I was on the first few hesitant steps to a new and very different heaven, and it felt great. I thought of Alice, because recently, every time I had an erection, it was Alice that I thought of. Now, I had a very different kind of female alongside me. A lot younger, pretty too, but inexperienced, I guessed. There was no odour of woman's perfume this time, no caressing mother's hands, no cleavage to look at. Only the beginnings of breasts just visible under Susan's school dress, a vague scenty soap-smell, and the soft cheek of a pleasing schoolgirl pressing onto my shoulder. But it was enough to cause the blood to flow into the veins of my penis and awaken the kind of desire that Alice had done so very often, whether she had been around me or not My natural instinct would have been to masturbate, had it been possible there. For the moment, I just enjoyed this novel feeling of being with a girl of my own age, and being sexually stimulated by her presence, the pressure of her head on my shoulder and the rhythm of her breathing. I closed my eyes, leaned back and enjoyed the moment and the throbbing in my penis all scrunched up in my Y-Fronts, before eventually finding it necessary to un-scrunch it slyly, and allow the blood to flow properly through the whole length of my now solid penis. The coach arrived, finally at school. Susan woke up, and we all hurriedly gathered our things together to descend from the coach and go home. I loitered timidly outside, waiting for Susan to appear and managed to find the courage to ask her if she wanted to meet one day after school. To my delight, she smiled a huge smile and, with heart beating fast, I suggested a walk in the park the following Monday. That weekend, I was staying at Terry's house. Alice's house. As usual, I was pre-occupied by the presence of Terry's mother and her amazing beauty, as she did everything for us – meals and so on. And as usual, I had an erection almost permanently whilst she was in the room, even when she was not. At night, before going to sleep, notwithstanding Terry's presence in his own bed alongside me, I couldn't stop myself from masturbating deliciously under the sheets, images of Alice obsessing my imagination, fuelled by my strong souvenirs of that interlude, which seemed so long ago but so fresh in my memory. But at the same time, tiny thoughts of Susan began to creep into the fantasy. That weekend, Alice announced with a big smile that she was going to re-decorate the spare bedroom. The room in question had been, it seemed, a total disgrace for a few years, full of unused stuff, old furniture, Terry's old toys from way back, a 'glory hole' as Alice called it. Now was the time to clear it out completely and make it into a proper guest bedroom, she declared. And I was to be the first guest in the new guest bedroom. I was bowled over by this sudden announcement. I was to have my own bedroom at Terry's – Alice's house! My mind simply boggled. My own private bedroom, my own washbasin, my own wardrobe. My own personal space. This meant first, that I could masturbate in complete privacy as often as I liked, without having to think about Terry being in the same room. I allowed my imagination to run a lot further than that. I began to have fantasies of sharing my new bedroom with Alice, long nights of passion with the object of my eternal desire, though I knew that was remote from reality, young and fanciful as I was. Whatever might happen next, it was the most amazing news I could have imagined, and I welcomed it with the enthusiasm of any sex-driven youth. I readily agreed to give them a hand and make a start the following weekend on clearing out the room. The following Monday, I met Susan for the first time after school. It was a shy, hesitant meeting at first, and we continued talking as we had done on the coach during the school excursion, learning bits about each other. But this time, after an hour of strolling in the park near where she lived, I hesitantly took her hand in mine. To my surprise and pleasure, she didn't pull her hand back; she squeezed my hand and smiled up at me. I knew it was going to be alright, and my penis was very hard in no time at all, holding her tiny, soft hand for the first time. I was so hard, and so quickly in fact, that my foreskin was pulled back against the cloth of my Y-Fronts, exposing my head of my uncovered prick to a sharp and uncomfortable friction. I tried to walk normally, which wasn't easy. We walked and talked, and finally drifted towards a park bench where we sat, holding hands. Before sitting, I managed to turn away from Susan and re-arrange my now throbbing erection in my Y-Fronts, and ease the discomfort. I knew that the next move was up to me, but it took me a while to build up the courage. Step one: my arm slipped around Susan's back and onto her shoulder. I didn't need to pull her close; she fell against my arm and side and turned her face towards mine, chin raised up. Kissing was okay, I thought. And kiss we did. For the very first time I tasted a serious kiss with a girl. I say 'tasted' because there was a strawberry taste to her soft lips, which I couldn't help noticing immediately. Strawberry flavoured lipstick. And toothpaste very faintly behind it. Our lips met. Hers were so soft, so pliant, and we pressed forward in our inexperienced way, moving our mouths in debutant circles, enjoying this new step forward into adulthood. The idea of pushing my tongue into her mouth did not occur to me, nor the idea of searching for her young breasts with my hands. Lack of knowledge again, about the art of kissing and the rest. But it was most enjoyable, this first time, and my cock was straining against the cloth of my Y-Fronts inside my summer trousers. I was afraid the bulge would be visible, but Susan's eyes were closed and her concentration was solely on the kiss, which neither of us seemed to want to break. It went on and on, and my throbbing went on and on. Finally we separated for air, and Susan's head dropped back onto my shoulder; we were both breathing a little harder. It was a good feeling. I couldn't help wondering, even at this special moment, how it would be to kiss Alice. Then the thought went away, as I heard Susan say: "That was nice Tony." Then her head came back up, and we looked into each other's eyes for a while, both smiling. I replied timidly: "Yes, that was nice Susan." My head dipped again, our mouths came together, and we kissed some more. As we did so, I increased the pressure of my lips against hers, moved my mouth in bigger circles, showing more passion than before. Susan responded accordingly, pressed back and even moaned slightly, which I took to be approval. This time the kiss was even better, and when we broke, we were both breathless. I wanted badly to ejaculate. As the kissing progressed, remembering Alice's fingers on my cheek, I placed my hand on Susan's face and stroked it very lightly, which she seemed to like; her arm slipped across my belly and around my waist and she pulled me towards her a little, squeezed gently. I was afraid her arm would touch my nearly vertical penis and she would realise what state I was in. Then, pressing closer, I felt her young, firm breast against my rib cage. I thought immediately of grapefruit-sized woman's breasts, couldn't stop myself. I could tell her breast was smaller than Alice's. But it didn't matter, I was enjoying this beginners' uncomplicated necking session with my first teenage love. Each time we kissed, the embrace went on longer, until we were forced to break again for air; and my penis seemed to get harder and harder. I thought I might come in my pants, such was the excitement generated by those kisses. I stopped thinking about Alice. Finally, Susan announced that she had to go. She was already late, and her parents would worry, not knowing why she didn't get home from school at the normal time. I had no such problem, as I often spent my after-school time with Terry and got home much later. No-one asked questions at our house. We finally let go of each other, got up and walked together hand in hand towards her house, a short distance from the park. At the end of the street where she lived, we kissed again and parted. We knew we would be meeting again. And soon. I didn't tell Terry any of this. I don't know why; I guess I didn't want Alice to find out and think I was cheating on her. I wanted to see Susan again, and couldn't wait to talk to her at school, though opportunities weren't so frequent. But we did manage to sneak away from school three days later, as far as the park again during the lunch break. This time, our kissing was less than timid, as both of us began to get used to the newly discovered pleasure and overcome our earlier inhibitions sufficiently to press our young bodies together, standing up with my back leaning against a large oak tree in a quiet corner of the park. Our summer clothing enhanced the feeling of almost body against body. I knew my erection under my summer trousers was impossible to ignore, but Susan said nothing. I felt Susan's breasts pressing against my thin shirt covered chest through her bra and summer blouse. It was a delicious feeling, to hold my young sweetheart in my arms like this for the first time, and I was carried away by a sense of euphoria. I began to think more and more now about discovering Susan's body. The following weekend, Terry and I helped Alice to empty the 'glory hole' of all the unused stuff, so that she could arrange for a decorator to come and make a new guest bedroom of it during the following week. It was warm that weekend, and despite our light clothing, we all sweated - that is to say: Terry and I sweated and Alice perspired - from the effort of carting stuff downstairs to the garden shed, which was to be the new home, or glory hole, for whatever they decided to keep. Some was destined to be thrown out definitively, and lightweight stuff we were able to jettison via the bedroom window down to the yard below. It took a few hours, broken up by lunch and lots of cold drinks, slavishly prepared by a smiling and indefatigable Alice. Watching Alice as she worked, wearing only a tee-shirt and shorts was a new delight for me. Her long slender thighs and calves were magnificent, and her neck and bare arms were so pale and smooth and soft; even covered in a light film of perspiration she was my dream woman. If anything, the perspiration somehow enhanced her sexuality. I wanted to caress her flesh everywhere, wanted to lick her skin from head to toe. I was able to see better than ever her woman's breasts outlined under the tee-shirt, and could just make out the shape of her nipples. These became more evident as time went on and the tee-shirt clung to her moist body. I struggled to contain my erection in my shorts, so that it wouldn't be obvious to the others. There was this constant throbbing of my penis, and I enjoyed the feeling, knowing that it was all for Alice. I began to get more mentally excited too, realising that probably the next time I came to spend the weekend, the room would be all mine! I was already anticipating my first masturbation session in my new bedroom, dedicated of course to Alice – and maybe just a little to Susan. As this thought flickered through my head, I realised that Susan did distract me from my usual and predictable fantasies. I was thinking of Susan more than ever, and she was slowly becoming part of the focus of my desires. Shared desires at first, but nevertheless real. And she was surely more accessible to me than my best friend's mother, Alice, could ever be. Even though I suspected that Susan had no experience of sex yet. Over the two days, we finally emptied the junk room, leaving just bare boards and dirty walls late Sunday afternoon. Afterwards, we took our baths in sequence. The bathroom was shared, and I was first to go; I was well and truly ready for my first masturbation session of the day, having suffered a powerful erection most of the day drooling secretly over Alice's shimmering, perspiring body. Under instructions not to be long in the bathroom, I simply lay back in the warm water, soaped my cock and within a very short time was spurting seminal fluid onto my chest. The relief was wonderful, as I once again retreated into the reverie of Alice's hands caressing me. The seminal discharge was soon dissipated into the soap suds. As I dressed in clean shirt and shorts, I tried to imagine how Alice would look, leaning back into the bath, washing her body. I had to close off my mind to these imaginary pictures, or risk going downstairs with a visible tent under my shorts once again. My young cock seemed totally out of control. *** Back home later on Sunday, I spent the evening watching television, and I found myself once again dreaming of Alice in the bath, before it was time for bed and my last ejaculation of the weekend in her imagined and compliant company. I wished the next week away. But not without stealing another opportunity to meet Susan in the park in the balmy late afternoon, my back against the same tree, to hold her soft, slim young body pressed to mine, to feel my erection against her belly and her breasts against my chest. My arms were wrapped around her totally, pulling her against me, her hands were held lightly against my rib cages. It was so good, the pressure of her body, that I wanted to come there and then against her, in my underpants. Things had to progress, I thought. Kissing Susan was great; feeling her soft young body against mine was bliss. But I wanted more. This time, without reflecting too much about what I was doing, I dipped my knees slightly, almost instinctively, bringing my penis against Susan's lower belly. Then a little lower. There was no immediate reaction from Susan, so I dipped even lower, until my now rock hard cock was against her pubes. I pressed forward. She pulled back, tore her mouth from mine, making a slightly embarrassing smacking sound as our lips separated. Her head turned downwards and her forehead leaned lightly against my chest, but her lower body was now a foot away from mine. We were both breathing heavily. Neither of us said anything for a moment, then, I thought I ought to say something: "Sorry, Susan, I got a bit carried away." I said quietly, regretting this adolescent haste generated by my aching cock. "It's okay Tony," was her simple response, then, with a sigh: "Maybe it's a bit soon, that's all." We stayed that way for several minutes, her head on my chest and our lower bodies separated by what seemed a vast space. Despite my goof, I still had this terrible hard on, and longed to press it back against Susan's body again. But I held back, waiting for her next move or her next words. Our breathing slowed. After a while her head turned back up to mine. She kissed me briefly on the lips, and suggested we return to school now. That was it. In modern parlance: I had blown it. Susan was not ready for sex, not like me. She probably didn't know much about sex at all, I thought – not that I knew a whole lot more, but at least I knew what masturbation was. Maybe Susan didn't even know that. Anyway, I was convinced she wouldn't want to see me again, and all the way back to school I was kicking myself inwardly for my clumsiness. We didn't even hold hands any more. My erection finally went down. Back at school, we went our separate ways without a word. I watched her walk towards the girls' cloakroom, but she didn't look back. Now, all I could do was look forward to the weekend, when I would get to see Terry and his mother Alice again. Finally, the weekend arrived, and after school on Friday I ran home like I was Jim Ryun setting a new world record 1500m record. I knew it was possible, he was only a year older than me. But at the same time, I wondered if it would be detrimental to my high jump training. Anyway, after gulping down a sandwich and a glass of milk and grabbing my overnight duffle bag, I was soon on the home straight, flat out on my way to Terry's house and my new room. When I got there, Alice was out shopping, but Terry was already home, so he showed me the room. Well, it wasn't finished, but it was habitable; a new carpet had been laid. There was still some wallpapering still to do around the window looking down onto the small yard below, but there weren't any curtains, just nets. Nonetheless I was just overwhelmed with joy, to see my new bed, my new wardrobe, my washbasin all ready to be used. I threw my duffle bag on the newly made bed, and detected a little sadness in Terry's voice as he explained that 'the man' was coming back next week to finish off the decorations. I guessed his sadness was probably because he had got used to having my company all the time in his own room. It was true we had had lots of fun and laughs together at bedtime. I thought: anyway, we would be together all the rest of the time as usual, except for sleeping, and maybe he would appreciate the privacy himself in future. After all, masturbation was best done in complete privacy, unless it could be with a girl. Or, in my case, with Alice. My reverie on that subject continued non-stop. Later, Alice returned. Dressed in shorts and a loose cotton top, she looked sensational, and I was tumescent as soon as I heard the Morris Minor arrive on the driveway in front of the house. Terry and I ran to help her with the shopping, and straight away she asked me what I thought of the new bedroom. Of course, she could see that I was pleased, and I didn't hesitate to thank her for the trouble she had taken to get it ready for me. We all had a late tea together, before spending the evening watching television. Sitting alongside Terry on the sofa of the lounge, I was constantly hard, as usual, full of the urgency of going to my new bedroom and rubbing my aching penis, to make it spurt before sleep, a feeling enhanced by Alice's presence across from me in her armchair, her long, pale legs crossed before my very eyes. Occasionally she would look over at us and smile. Sometimes she would sigh, which pushed her breasts against her cotton top, and my cock would jerk in automatic reaction. I loved the feeling. That night, it seemed that my last ejaculation before sleep was stronger than it had been for quite a while; my new bedroom created for me a new and a very special intimacy, as though I was sharing it with the spirit, if not the body, of Alice. Saturday flew past so quickly. Alice decided we should all go to the cinema on Saturday evening, and it was then that something new happened, which gave me hope again that Alice would one day be mine. It was during the film, in the dark, towards the end of the main feature, that Alice's hand somehow dropped onto my knee. I wasn't expecting it; it made me start. At first, I thought it was an accident. Her hand just very, very lightly dropped onto my knee, just like that. I was wearing shorts, as the others were too. My tumescent cock was hard as it could be in seconds, and I looked down at the back of Alice's pale hand. I sneaked a look across at her, then further over to Terry on her other side, barely visible in the darkened salle, and it was clear that her other hand was not on Terry's knee. Sometimes during horror films, Alice had been known to grab both our arms and squeeze, but this was not one of those films, it was just a western. I was dumbstruck for a moment, and my heart beat incredibly fast, as I enjoyed the light pressure of Alice's cool, still hand on the flesh of my leg and the delicious throbbing in my cock. Her hand stayed there unmoving for several minutes and Alice went on watching the film, not looking one way or the other. Then almost imperceptibly her fingers began to squeeze my knee, then eased off and moved very slowly up along my bare thigh, palm down, fingers on the inside of my slightly tensed thigh muscle. Alice's squeezing fingers couldn't stay imperceptible for long. I thought I would come in my Y-Fronts if she so much as brushed her hand against my turgid young penis. For several minutes her hand moved up and down my thigh like that, lightly caressing and then squeezing my thigh, but not quite reaching the danger zone of my cock. I was in heaven again. But all too soon, the film ended, and as the lights slowly brightened, Alice took her hand away, leaving me with an intense aching in my balls, my cock and my lower stomach. How I wanted to spurt again. For Alice. As we stood up to leave the cinema, Alice turned towards us and gave us one of her wonderful, open smiles. " Did you like that?" she asked, meaning the film, of course. Or perhaps not. Terry and I replied together, affirmative, but Alice and I knew the double meaning of the question. That night, my masturbation was as intense as ever; now I had a new fantasy in my head, new memories to relish and re-live. The big day came finally. Terry and I were both ready for the physical trials that lay ahead; our bodies were honed to perfection, and we were determined to win our events. I had only the high jump to contend with; Terry the 440 and 880 yards. So Terry had a lot more to do, as both of his races required a lot of energy. But he had been training hard and felt up to the challenge. Alice was there to cheer us both. And Susan was there to cheer me, I hoped, when my event began at the end of the afternoon. Terry finally had mixed results. He was beaten into third place by two boys just that bit fleeter over the shorter distance. I really felt for him; he got under 60 seconds, which was not bad on a thick turf field, but if you lose by a yard, you lose. And there were two of them in that yard. An hour later, he won the 880 yards by a street in 2m 23s. After both races, Alice was there to hug him and kiss his cheek, making Terry's panting cheeks even redder. I was there to console him first time, and later share his joy. Seeing Alice clasp Terry to her bosom, you can imagine how I felt, wanting to trade places with him. Maybe my turn would come later, I thought, resolving to win the high jump or die in the attempt. Exhausted, disappointed by his first setback but totally exhilarated by his later win, Terry plopped down on a grass bank with his mother near the high jump pit, and I joined them, waiting for my event to be called. As the time ticked by, I was afraid of two things: having an erection which would impair my performance in this very important high jump competition because of Alice's close proximity. And: finally losing for any reason; I simply had to win, and impress Alice and Terry. And Susan, whom I now saw coming over towards the sand pit with a gang of girls from her class. This was the last event of the day, there was nothing else to watch, and a mix of boredom or interest caused people to drift our way. A wide circle of pupils, teachers and families formed around the run-up fan, and one of the teachers had to move the circle back to allow us competitors enough room to make a decent approach to the bar I think the stress finally made my cock lose it's turgidity. As I warmed up and did what we called in those days some 'muscle stretching' the swelling went away and I began to relax, feeling loose and strong, ready to take on the world. I felt some fear and excitement at the same time, knowing that in that buzzing, rippling crowd of people there was Alice, Terry and Susan. I couldn't escape the feeling that all of their eyes were on me; I felt at once proud and terrified. We finally got the high jump under way, and during the competition, I missed only two clearances – one at 5 feet 7ins, and one at 6 feet. But 5 feet 11 ins won me the title of School High Jump Champion (Senior), and I felt I was king of the world for the rest of the day. Alice and Terry rushed over to me together, and Alice threw her arms around me for the very first time ever and hugged me close, reaching up and kissing my cheek, for I was quite a few inches taller than her. The sport over, my young cock filled up again with the joy of being in Alice's embrace. I was a little sweaty, my arms and legs covered in builders' sand, but I didn't pull back; I was the hero for those few moments, and I savoured to the limit the feel of Alice's breasts pressed against my chest for the first time, like twin grapefruits. I glanced over to Susan, but she had already started to leave the scene of my famous victory, along with her friends. She looked back once, a tiny smile on her face, but she didn't come over to say anything to me, as I would have loved her to. I wasn't sure what the smile meant, but I hoped it left me with a chance of seeing her and holding her in my arms again one day. Though dirty, tired, aching in my legs and hips, the results of my acrobatics as I tumbled over the bar a hundred times into a hard sand-filled pit, I convinced myself that nothing hurt any more. I smiled like a proverbial Cheshire cat as I headed towards the school building and the showers. My real and unexpected reward for all the training and effort I had put in to become senior high jump champion was to be bestowed upon me two days later. School was finished for the week, and once again I found myself with what almost now seemed like my foster family, for the weekend. Saturday slipped by, and for once, Terry and I didn't do much physical stuff at all. We were both in our own separate ways in a kind of post-championship tristesse, mentally and physically tired. We felt like doing nothing at all, so the day drifted by. We sat and watched television; Alice fed us as usual and I watched her as usual, longing for her touch, which came at unexpected moments at table. A hand on my shoulder, a pat on the neck; whatever it was I welcomed it as though I was her lover, but not daring to reciprocate the affection. As we lazed in front of the television, Alice brought us drinks and cake, occasionally calling us 'champions' who needed to feed our bodies as well as to recharge the batteries for next week. She also made the odd remark about having all the pretty girls at school chasing after the new champions – which was exactly what we wanted, but didn't really expect. All I wanted was Alice. Maybe Susan, if Alice was still impossible to have. The following day was a stunning summer's day, of the kind we used to get in those days before everything was turned upside down, climate-wise. Alice decided we would all go for a picnic. So, mid-morning, Alice packed up all sorts of goodies, sandwiches, cakes and drinks in carrier bags, serviettes, some blankets and cushions to sit on, and we all piled into the Morris Minor to head off for a quiet place she knew in the country. The ride took about an hour. Alice was able to park the Morris about 400 yards from a fast running stream, where there was a small sheltered clearing, and room to spread out our blankets. It was a paradisiacal corner of the countryside, with trees all around, calm and wind free. We soon relaxed to appreciate the peace and the sunshine. Terry and I were quickly stripped down to our shorts, torso bare. Alice had a bathing costume under her light summer dress, and after a while she slipped the dress off entirely, leaving her wonderful swan neck, long, slim arms and legs bare. The modest bathing costume was quite high at the front, but showed the bulge of her breasts to perfection, with just a hint of cleavage. The effect on my cock was immediate, and I had to turn over at first to conceal my bulge and later to unravel my member, scrunched up as usual, and allow it to expand fully. The feeling of sun on my body and being there in that clearing with my best friend Terry and his mother Alice, listening to the faint sound of fast flowing water below and the birds singing, was just one of the most perfect moments of my life up to now. We chatted, we bantered, Terry and I made Alice laugh. We recounted over and over our achievements in the school sports, exaggerating our prowess, until we became almost World Champions in our own minds. And Alice told us again how proud she was of us, doing what we did in front of the whole school. We ate and drank, and as the afternoon slipped away, we dozed and the bantering slowed, then stopped. I must have gone off to sleep, as the next thing I heard was Alice's voice. "Anthony. Are you asleep, or just pretending?" I opened my eyes groggily and looked over to where Alice was sitting, bare legs folded underneath her bum, one arm supporting her weight. The sun was behind her, and I could see only the dark outline of her bathing costume clad body against the light. I realised immediately that my considerable erection hadn't gone down whilst I dozed, and was causing a noticeable tent in my summer shorts. I wondered if Alice had seen it. I realised also that Terry wasn't there. "Oh...where's Terry?" I asked. I sensed that Alice had been watching me whilst I dozed. She replied: "He wanted to go down to the stream, stretch his legs a bit. He spoke to you, but you didn't reply. I asked him not to wake you, so he set off by himself in the direction of the bank further down. He said there are some deeper pools near here. I think he got bored just doing nothing, needed to find something to do with himself. He can't be lazy for too long, that son of mine." I replied again: "Oh, okay. Maybe I can catch him up." I looked at Alice's silhouette again. Instantly, she sort of scooted towards me on her knees, then settled back onto her bum, pushing her legs out in front of her, slightly bent. She held out her one arm, smiled her wide mouthed smile, said: "Come over here and put you head in my lap if you want to sleep a bit more." I didn't need asking twice. I slid over, twisted around, stretched my legs out again, my head resting on Alice's soft, bare upper thigh. I adjusted my head a little so that my neck and part of my shoulder touched her flesh. This was the next step to heaven, I thought, lying here with my head in Alice's lap, just inches from a real vagina. That's what it was called, wasn't it? I closed my eyes, hardly daring to breathe. My cock was as hard as I ever remember it being since it had been in Alice's long fingers, such a long time ago as it seemed. The monster pushed up against my shorts and vibrated endlessly, and I knew it was useless to try to hide it from her eyes. I lay and I relaxed into her softness. And I waited. "Terry used to like to sleep like this, on my lap; we would stay like this for hours. Sometimes I'd get pins and needles in my legs. But I'd let him sleep." I listened to the softness of her voice, almost wistful. I enjoyed the moment, just as Terry would have done. Then, I felt the softest of pressure on my naked chest; Alice's hand. It touched, it stayed there, I opened my eyes, looked up into Alice's face. Her eyes were hardly discernible against the sky behind her head. I'm sure my own eyes showed a startled expression. Alice's hand moved, her cool fingers and palm slid lightly across my warm chest, left and right, then she spoke again. "You have a nice body Anthony. I liked to see you high jump so well. You have nice strong legs too. I was really proud of you both at the school sports day." I started to say something, but she spoke before I could. "It was nice, that time, when I came onto the balcony and saw you there – rubbing yourself. Did you like what I did for you, Anthony?" I gulped, and sort of mumbled: "Yes" and my heart leapt violently in my chest. I was certain that Alice felt the banging underneath her hand as she stroked my skin. Oddly, this was the first time that either of us had mentioned the events of that day; here was Alice bringing it up as though it had been a pleasant interlude for us both, rather than the most exciting and selfish event of my young life. Her fingers continued to slide across my chest, then almost imperceptibly, drifted downwards. My cock was rigid with yearning, and I felt that if Alice's hand as much as touched the end of it, I would explode right there and then inside my shorts. As though reading my mind, Alice's hand slipped down to the waistband of my shorts and whispered: "If you'd like me to do it again for you, Anthony....why don't you pull down your shorts a little?" My chest was thumping, my cock was twitching like crazy, as I lifted up my bum and eased down my shorts over my Y-Fronts, then did the same with my underpants, allowing my hard, hot, intensely swollen and bursting organ to spring into sight and into the warm summer air. I looked up at Alice, barely seeing the colour of her eyes; she was looking at my cock as though admiring it – or was it my imagination? Her hand slid down onto my belly, her fingers slipped through my pubic hairs, and in an instant were wrapped around my hardness, which was pointing upwards to the sky; she held it very lightly, not squeezing at all. Her thumb was flat against the end knob, which was very moist, and her fingers entirely around it's length. Her hand stayed still; I suspected that she was afraid I would fire off immediately if she squeezed or rubbed. I was on the next rung to paradise, and I knew that, in view of my total excitement, if she thought that, then she was not at all wrong. Alice leaned forward slightly, and I felt the light pressure of her breast against the top of my head. With her free hand, she took mine and brought it up to her bare arm. Accepting the invitation, I began to caress her forearm and then her upper arm with my hot hand. For the very first time I was caressing Alice's bare woman's flesh, and again my cock jerked in response. I had to strain not to ejaculate. Then, I felt Alice fidget a little, and whisper again, "Scoot around a bit, Anthony." I lifted my bum again, and felt a deep regret as momentarily Alice's hand left my cock. I settled back down at right angles to Alice's body, in time to see her lean forward again and slip her bathing costume off her shoulders, revealing to my amazed upward gaze, the most wonderful grapefruit-sized breasts and tiny nipples pointing down, hanging down towards my face. Without hesitation, Alice placed a hand under my head and drew my head up towards a breast. "Suck my nipple, Anthony. Go on, it's alright, take it into your mouth and suck it for me, nicely please." Without hesitation, she guided my mouth, and my lips closed around the nipple of the breast of Alice, my best friend's mother. My rock hard cock jerked again, and Alice's hand resumed its grip around my hardness. Hesitantly, I sucked her nipple, pressing my tongue flat against it, feeling its rubbery texture, tasting a hint of salt on her flesh. Alice began to slide her hand along the length of my cock, then said, "Go on, suck harder, I like it." I sucked harder, then harder as Alice's hand gripped my cock more firmly, squeezed and began to rub up and down, her thumb pressing against the knob once more. I was close to coming, and Alice knew it from the intensity of my sucking. I was afraid I would suck too hard, even bite her nipple, and hurt my darling Alice. I heard her moan lightly, as she rubbed my solid length harder and then suddenly, without warning, my whole lower body leapt upwards, pressing my cock into her fist, as the most exquisite orgasm began to travel up from my balls, into the length of my cock. I gasped, momentarily loosing my mouth from her breast. There was an incredible and copious eruption of seminal fluid, shooting up into the air, before Alice's hand moved over the eye of my cock and deflected the rest of the liquid into her palm, and then towards my belly and pubic hairs. I was sure and certain that I would never feel such intensity of pleasure again, as the seminal fluid gushed and gushed over Alice's hand and over me. My whole body was quaking, my legs were trembling, and I continued gasping for a moment, before reclaiming her nipple back into my mouth, breathing hard through my nose. Alice waited, and just as I thought the climax was more or less over, she squeezed the head of my cock with her thumb and finger again and again, milking the last few drops of fluid from the eye into her hand. I sucked firmly on her nipple again, enjoying the revival of pleasure, and listening to her soft moans. For what seemed like several minutes, Alice's hand stayed motionless around my cock, which was now shrinking. There was seminal fluid everywhere. Alice slipped her nipple away from my adoring mouth, reached over towards the picnic things nearby, grabbed a serviette and began to wipe both her hand and my lower body. All the time, my eyes were glued to her wonderful breasts, still hanging down towards my face. Then, Alice quickly pulled up her errant bathing costume, and I regretfully lost sight of those wondrous orbs, except for her slight cleavage above. "I hope you liked that, Anthony" she said. "I did, it was really nice. We must do it again sometime soon, okay?" I could do no more than nod my agreement; as usual, I was dumbstruck, couldn't find the way to say how much I loved her and a whole lot more. "Terry should be back soon, so let's make sure everything looks in order, shall we?" I reluctantly sat up and began to pull up my underpants and shorts and cover my sticky shame, before returning to sit a little way off from Alice. As she fussed to arrange her bathing costume top decently, I simply gazed at her in what must have looked like obvious adoration. She caught my stare. "Don't look like that Anthony. It makes me think you're sad. You're not sad are you? It was nice wasn't it?" I almost cried out then that I was in love with her, but somehow I couldn't find the courage to utter the words. So I nodded, and said, "Yes, it was really special for me. I'm not sad at all, really I'm not." Soon we were both tidy and all appearances of monkey- business were eliminated. Alice lay back and closed her eyes, as we waited for Terry to come back from his riverside explorations. As she lay there, without looking at me, she said, almost wistfully, "Say my name, Anthony. Call me Alice, just this once." I replied, voice shaking, "Alice," and once again swallowed the rest of the sentence I so desperately wanted to utter. She smiled softly and settled back on the blanket. Time seemed to stand still. I just sat looking at the outlines of Alice's wonderful body, her beautiful face, her long shapely legs laid there before me on the blanket, and reflected on what had just happened. For the second time, Alice had taken me in hand and given me the most incredible feelings of sexual release. This time, it was not because she had caught me in flagrant dιlit with my cock in my own hand, but because she had chosen, and wanted to do what she had done. She had seized the moment to pleasure me, and at the same time had taken her own seeming delight from having my mouth on her nipple. I was struggling to take all this in, when, after what must have been several minutes, Alice sat up once more and suggested I go look for Terry, who had now been away for more than an hour – though I had completely lost track of time. Terry never came back that day. I searched and searched, and then Alice joined me, finally panicking and rushing to the car to drive away and find help, whilst I continued to scan the river bank for what seemed like miles and miles, upstream and down. With the fall of darkness, Terry's body was found by police searchers, at the bottom of a deep pool, almost two miles from the clearing where Alice and I had shared our moments of passion and pleasure. We never found out what happened that day, why Terry drowned. We never had time to say goodbye, none of us. END *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The author does not condone child abuse, this story is meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their local prison. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 50