Mrs. Piper

In the 70’s, I knew little about women and even less about life. I quickly learned in the showers of the physical education classes about my endowment compared to my classmates. In health class, I learned the dry technical details about sex, but hungered for the real thing. It was my neighbor, Eddie, who opened the door to my future with women. His dad had a collection of really explicit X rated magazines. Eddie showed me where they kept them, on the top shelf in their walk-in closet. It was nice to see men hung like me getting what they wanted. Even more exciting were the lusty, vibrant women who didn’t care what the preacher thought. The pairs, trios, and groups of people having sex of every different style burned their images into my memory and my soul.

We lived in a small mid-western town, heavily protestant, safe and secure. That meant that our homes were often left unlocked. I knew that Eddie would be at band practice for two hours after school, his Mom Sara would be at garden club, and his Dad Rick at work until six, or I never would have gone there that day. I went over their wall, past their pool, in the back door, and up the stairs. I got down the box which held the forbidden images, and started stroking my long member, one hand atop the other to cover the full length. I was panting hard, blood pounding in my ears, mere moments from cumming. I was lost to the world, alone with my hot dreams. Or so I thought.

I heard her gasp, and looked up, spooked, knocking the fuckbook open on the floor. Mrs. Piper was there, in her pale blue dress and pill box hat, looking like a blond Jackie Onassis. Her page boy haircut and conservative dress were ten years out of style anywhere but the Midwest. Her face was frozen in a mixture of shock and lust. She couldn’t take her eyes off of my massive member. She was in a trance, like a snake priestess before her sacred python.

All I could think about was how much Sara looked like the star of the fuckbook. I’ll bet that was why Mr. Piper had bought it in the first place, to see his lovely wife as something other than the model wife and mother we all knew her to be. So I sat up and tried to pull her over to the bed. Sara was almost frozen in place, and I had to stand up to lead eryaman escort her to the bed. I wrapped her hand around my massive tool, but she was still in shock. I had to help her stroke my shaft, until she almost like a robot got the rhythm down. I wanted to touch her so bad, so I unzipped her dress. I still couldn’t get to her tits, so I moved my hand between her legs. In doing that, I pushed her onto all fours. Her face was right above my throbbing rod. I had no idea what I was doing, I was just copying scenes from the fuckbook, but Sara sure did. Her hot lips swept over the head of my cock as she stroked my length. No longer passive or frozen, she knew things about oral sex I’d never dreamt of, much less experienced. When I finally did get my hand between Sara’s legs, her panties were soaked with her excitement.

The plum colored head of my prick vanished into the suction of her ruby red lips again and again, as her head bobbed up and down. I was getting my first real feel of woman-flesh. I fucked her slick snatch with my fingers, right through the leg of her panties, since I was too eager to take the time to take them off. Sara reached back with her left hand and pulled them down to her knees. Then she guided my hand to her love button, showing me exactly how she wanted to be touched, without missing a stroke or a suck. I had seen a woman deep throat a cock in the fuckbook, now Sara’s mouth was showing me how it really felt. She shuddered, and I realized that she had just cum. That thought took me over the edge, and I couldn’t hold back. Blob after blob of hot spunk pumped from my balls into her soft mouth. Sara gulped it all down and just kept right on stroking me, keeping me hard. She sat up, shucked her dress off, and unsnapped her bra. Sara had great big tits, which she shoved in my face as she mounted me, throwing me on my back on the bed. Her hand was a blur on her love button as she rode me, arching her back in orgasm. That pulled her melons from my mouth, so I grabbed them with my hands. Sara was pulsing around the length of my shaft, trembling over and over again. Our cries of passion rang through the empty house. We came together, in blissful agony.

The next day I went back, but the esat escort box was gone. It was a little over a week later, during a backyard BBQ and pool party, before we were alone again. Sara went in to do the dishes, and made all the other women stay out and watch the kids. Her beige sun-dress almost made her look naked, a thought which I couldn’t have stopped anyway. So I followed her in, sliding my hands on her ass under her dress, pulling down her panties, then burying my face in her soft flaxen bush. Sara kept right on doing the dishes, acting as if nothing was happening, as her wet bush opened to my tongue. I drilled her tight hole and struck oils. I then started in on her love button, licking and sucking it, then doing with strokes of my tongue what she had taught me to do with my fingers. I plunged into her twat with three of my fingers, and that did it, she dropped the dish right back into the sink and held onto the counter with both hands as her hips helplessly thrashed against my face from the throes of her titanic climax.

I pull out my trouser snake, the python she loved so much, and lifted her dress to plunge my full length into her in a single massive stroke. I rammed my rod into her, cushioned by those fabulous buns. I screwed her frantically, my hands on her hips, while she continued to climax. I didn’t last very long, and it was a good thing. I heard the back door close, and quickly grabbed her panties off the floor, stuffing them in my jacket. Her husband Rick came around the corner to find me getting lemonade from the fridge, Sara doing dishes, and was completely unaware of my cum dribbling down her thighs. She spent the rest of the party without her panties, and I took them with me when I left.

Within a few months I got my drivers license. Sara & I started meeting after school, driving to one of her friends houses and making love until she had to rush home to fix dinner. She taught me everything a woman likes, even the secrets they don’t want you to know. Our affair ended up breaking up her marriage to Rick. I wanted to marry Sara, but my parents had other ideas, bribing with four years all expenses paid away at college. The secrets Sara taught me made me far too successful with women, etimesgut escort and even though we wrote to each other month after month, year after year, eventually we each married someone else.

It was nearly two decades later that I walked down the same street in my old neighborhood, to the steps of her house. I stood on the steps, reviewing how my endless affairs had wrecked both my marriages, leaving me homeless and able to see my own children only one weekend per month. I had flown home for the summer to nurse my psychic wounds. There was no answer to the bell, so I went around back. Sara was there, sunning herself by the pool in a black vinyl string bikini that revealed she still had a fabulous body. Deep into her late fifties, she was still the most beautiful and erotic woman I’d ever known. I let myself in, kissed her, smothering all her questions with my mouth, nearly ripping her bikini from her body in my passion to see her naked again. I begged her to let me taste her sweet slit, and she lowered herself onto my face, while she swallowed the full length of my shaft down her throat. We stayed like that for a long time, through two full climaxes where I spurted down her throat, and countless quimquakes for her. Finally, we came up for air as she kissed me, burying my bone in her soft furrow. We rolled over into doggy style. Then I saw him in the patio door. He was big and muscular, with dark salt and pepper hair. He strode toward us like a conquering hero, and I thought I was done for. When he reached Sara’s head, he just dropped his black pants, pulled off his T-shirt to reveal the sort of muscled chest you see on the cover of romance novels, and caressed her hair. Sara immediately yanked down his briefs to stuff his sausage size prick in her mouth. I came inside Sara, mostly out of relief at still being alive, and we took her upstairs, to the bed where it all started. We spent the next two days screwing Sara with our massive fuck tools in every orifice she had.

I’ll never forget the words she said to me as they took me to the airport. “Mike, you know I will never be able to deny you. Carl isn’t the jealous type, and with a well hung husband, I can’t be either. God knows you’re not the first person to share our bed, nor likely the last. As good as the sex between us is, I belong to and with Carl now. We had our chance years ago, and it is gone forever now. You had your chance to be my husband. I’ll always love you, but you need to find your own woman now.” And so I lost my first and greatest love.