Mrs Goldsteins Addiction

I thought Mrs. Goldstein hated me.

I couldn't think of a reason why she would hate me, but that was the only way I could explain how she acted.

The Goldsteins lived a few houses from ours on our street. Our families weren't especially close, but we always said hello in passing and socialized with them at neighborhood cookouts and parties. My parents and the Goldsteins had once found themselves on the same Caribbean cruise and enjoyed each others' company.

My awareness of the Goldsteins was centered on their daughter Hannah. She was a year ahead of me in school and the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. She was tall with raven black hair, flawless white skin, dark eyes and a smile that made me melt the few times it was turned in my direction.

But everything changed for the Goldsteins when Mr. Goldstein died after a brief illness leaving his wife a widow at 40. Then Hannah went off to college a few months later. That left Mrs. Goldstein alone in their big house with their golden lab Chester. My mother felt badly for Mrs. Goldstein and began inviting her to our house for morning coffee, afternoon drinks, or casual dinners. She also volunteered my services to walk Chester when needed, and sent me over weekly to mow the lawn.

Although she treated me normally at first I began to notice odd behaviors from Mrs. Goldstein. When I mowed her lawn she wouldn't greet me, but at some point would leave a glass of iced tea on her front steps before disappearing inside. There was always a 20 dollar bill under the tea, but none of the 'How are you, how's school?' conversation I usually got from my parents' friends. Sometimes I saw her peek at me from behind her curtains.

When she needed me to walk Chester she would arrange it through my Mom and leave her front door key under the welcome mat. A 10 dollar bill would be under Chester's leash. Stranger still, if I ran into Mrs. Goldstein at the grocery store or gas station she avoided looking at me and responded to my greetings with one-word replies before hurrying away.

I mentioned her odd behavior to my mother who guessed that Mrs. Goldstein was struggling emotionally with the sudden dissolution of her family.

Then my parents threw me a combined 18th birthday and graduation party before leaving on a two-week cruise. I was on my own with the usual stern warning of "NO PARTIES!" But it would have been hard to arrange a party anyway since my friends had scattered after graduation to various internships, summer classes, jobs and vacations.

So I was surprised early one June morning when the doorbell rang and I found Mrs. Goldstein on our porch bearing a plate of cookies. I invited her in and she came, seeming shy. For once she made the kind of meaningless adult-to-grown-kid conversation she had avoided for months. But she still didn't look me in the eyes.

She said, "These cookies are to thank you for all the help you've given me since..." and she looked sad for a moment, then brightly "Where are your parents cruising this time?"

"The rivers of Europe, I think. They left a brochure and contact stuff in the kitchen."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," she said, standing there, seeming unsure of what to do with her hands once I took the plate of cookies. I noticed that, strangely for 8 a.m., she was wearing a short tennis skirt and a pretty blouse of some thin material through which I could see a lacy, purple bra.

We made strained small talk for a few more minutes before an uncomfortable silence fell. I noticed Mrs. Goldstein's long dark hair was glossy clean and gathered somehow at the back of her head before cascading to her waist.

Studying her in the awkward silence I noticed the features she shared with Hannah... a long, oval face, beautiful brown eyes with long lashes and a wide mouth with dark, full lips. She had some fine wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, but otherwise her skin was smooth and clear.

I expected her to excuse herself and leave, but instead I grew uneasy when I saw tears standing in her eyes and a look of deep distress on her face. She reached towards me and took my hands in hers.

"I'm so, SO sorry Chris, but I've been struggling for months and I finally have to confess to you!"

I waited in confusion while she stared intently into my eyes.

"Chris... I'm an addict!"

"I... what?"

"I'm an addict, or an obsessive, or I'm not sure what. Maybe a fetish. Fetishist?"

"That's okay, I guess, Mrs. Goldstein, uh, maybe there's treatment?"

"Call me Naomi," she insisted.

"Okay Naomi, mmm, you said an obsession?"

"Whatever you call something you have to have. You HAVE to HAVE!" she said urgently, squeezing my hands. "Something you think about day and night until you feel you're going crazy. You'll die if you don't get it. And I AM going crazy!"

"I don't think I can help you Mrs.... uh Naomi."

"That's it, Chris, you CAN help me. You're the only one I know who can. Anyone else could destroy me!"

I was completely confused, thinking Mrs. Goldstein had somehow gotten addicted to cocaine or heroin and had come to exactly the wrong person for help. Then she dropped the bomb.

"Chris, I'm addicted to sperm. I've struggled with this for months and I know it's sick, but I have to have it by the mouthful, fresh and warm! And you can help me! I can suck sperm from your hard, young dick and I won't be breaking the law or ruining a marriage!"

I was speechless, literally speechless, I had an idea of what she wanted, but my mind couldn't grasp the reality. She acted before I could recover.

Mrs. Goldstein dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor and pulled my shorts to my ankles in one quick motion. My dick, half erect as usual, popped into the open air and two seconds later it was deep in her mouth... her warm, wet, eagerly sucking mouth. I froze. I knew it was wrong, but I was unable to pull myself away from the heavenly sensations that brought my dick to full, hard erection in seconds.

My hands somehow cradled her head and I uttered a long, involuntary groan of pleasure that could have been heard out on the street.

I had often fantasized about having my dick sucked, but the reality was far beyond my most heated imaginings. Mrs. Goldstein sucked me deep into her mouth until my dick hit the back of her throat. She swirled her tongue around my swollen head occasionally flicking the tip of her tongue against the sensitive opening where my sperm would soon come bursting out.

"Mrs. Goldstein!" I managed to blurt out, "I don't think you... we... " and that was all I could say before another wave of hot, intense pleasure flashed from the head of my dick throughout my body.

It didn't take long.

Since my parents left I had spent the nights gaming until late, then falling quickly asleep. So my balls were full. Each long stroke of her mouth from the base of my cock to the tip felt like it lasted an hour, but it was only a few seconds. Less than a dozen such strokes was all it took before I uttered another guttural groan and my swollen dick was jerking and spewing in Mrs. Goldstein's eager mouth.

My knees threatened to buckle and my hips thrust uncontrollably as she massaged my balls with one hand and milked my dick with the other. And she kept her mouth locked on me, moaning, sucking gently now, and swallowing greedily as I collapsed to the floor and rolled onto my back. She followed me down still licking and sucking my softening dick for one last drop of sperm. A shudder went through my body as her mouth finally released my dick.

"Are you all right?" she asked after a few moments, her anxious face appearing above me.

"Ummm," I managed to groan.

"I didn't hurt you going too fast?"

"No. It's just ... I don't think I've ever cum so fast or so hard."

"I'm glad it was okay. That was my first blow job."

"What! How can that be your first? I think I saw heaven!"

"Hal wanted me to for years, but I was a prude and always said no. So I had to go on the Internet to find out how to get the sperm I need."

"Thank god for the Internet," I whispered.

Mrs. Goldstein helped me up, my legs shaking, and I glimpsed a patch of wetness in the crotch of her panties as her skirt rode up. She guided me to a chair in the family room and watched with concern as I sat dazed, weakly adjusting to a new reality. She sat in front of me on an ottoman and took my hands.

"I owe you an explanation," she said.

"If you want," I managed, still dazed from my powerful orgasm.

"After I lost Hal and Hannah left for college I had hours and days on my hands and my mind went to all kinds of strange places. Sometimes I thought about sexual things and wondered what I'd missed by marrying young to a man without much imagination. Or much sex drive for that matter."

"Then I went to visit Hannah at college and soon realized she had a number of lovers based on things she said, and her roommate's jokes. And it seemed like half the boys on campus knew her! I tried to warn her about all the problems she could have with several partners, but she just laughed and said, 'Mom, it's fun!' "

"I'd never thought of sex as fun, or really anything but something I had to do. It felt good, sometimes, but nothing special."

"When I came home from her college I couldn't stop thinking about Hannah and her lovers. I started stalking her on social media looking at every boy in her pictures. I started obsessively looking at their bodies, their arms, everything... imagining their dicks. I imagined big dicks, circumcised dicks or uncut, hard and inside Hannah, giving her pleasure, pushing deep, jerking, filling her with their sperm. I imagined her on her knees with a dick in her mouth ready for it to explode."

"And in the end it was their sperm that became my obsession. I had never touched a dick with my mouth, but now I fantasized about sucking those boys' dicks... dicks shooting load after load of sperm, white and warm and sticky. And for some reason I didn't imagine them filling Hannah's pussy or my pussy, I imagined feeling sperm shooting from a big, hard dick onto my tongue, swallowing and sucking more. I fantasized about sucking a dick dry, swallowing, then sucking another one dry and another. And so I became addicted to sperm."

Mrs. Goldstein fell silent then and again I saw tears brimming in her eyes and the bumps of her big nipples visible through the thin fabric of her blouse.

"Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I dressed slutty, or what I thought was slutty, and went to a dance club looking for a dick to suck." She smiled, "Of the hundred women there I was number one hundred as far as slutty outfits!"

"Anyway a guy flirted with me. He was older than I wanted, but good looking. And I was in a hurry. I tried to be subtle and let him know I would give him a blow job. He got the idea right away and said, 'How much?' It was humiliating, but I told him it was free.

"We went to the parking lot, to a car and I sucked the guy. It took longer than I thought and he kept squeezing my breasts. I was horrified, but I kept going and finally he came, groaning, and I got my reward. I was thrilled and so, SO horny and wet. I swirled his sperm in my mouth and sucked until I got every drop, but then I heard laughing and realized there were people watching us. I ran, praying nobody took a video."

"I knew I could never do that again."

"For days I tried to think of a way to feed my addiction without getting diseased or arrested or humiliated, and finally I thought of you, the sweet boy from down the street who looked so strong and handsome when he mowed my lawn.

"But you were too young and in spite of my desperation I wasn't going to approach an underage boy. So I fought my feelings and hid my need for nearly a year."

"But now you're 18!"

"Can you understand me, Chris? Understand my desperation and my need," she begged. "If you knew how many nights I've laid in bed dreaming about your dick shooting thick, sticky cum in my mouth, and sucking your balls empty. Can you understand?"

It felt wrong. The experience was mind-blowing, but how could it be right for a woman of 42 to suck off an 18-year-old? And do it again and again if I understood her idea of addiction. Of course it's legal, but my friends would think it was weird and my parents would go nuts. Could such a thing be kept secret? Maybe for awhile, or even a long while since I was already at Mrs. Goldstein's house a couple of times a week.

Then I noticed my dick was swelling again. All I had to do was think about the possibility of coming in Mrs. Goldstein's mouth and my dick got hard on its own. Then she also noticed the growing bulge in my shorts. She licked her lips and looked up at me.

"Are you ready again?" she asked.

I thought briefly and realized I had an opportunity.

"I want more than your mouth," I said, and a look of confusion crossed her face.

"I want to suck your tits and cum in your pussy."

After a surprised pause, staring at me, she said slowly, "My tits of course, I'd like that whenever you want them Chris. But otherwise I was hoping we could just do, uh, oral. You're a young man and it's natural you'd like to do more, but we'd waste all that beautiful sperm inside me and I'd have to worry about getting pregnant."

"How about a compromise," I asked. "You get all my sperm, but we switch back and forth from your mouth to your pussy."

"I suppose we could try that," she said reluctantly.

I stood up, helped her stand and began unbuttoning her blouse with shaking hands. Soon she was reaching behind to unhook her bra. Her magnificent breasts spilled out, full and round, pointing slightly outwards and sagging from their own weight. I immediately lifted one and began sucking the long, dark nipple. he sighed with pleasure and I switched to the other one.

"God that feels good," she murmured, her eyes closed. "I forgot how good that feels."

I could have suckled her breasts for hours, but remembered I was also promised the treasure between her legs. I unfastened the waist of her skirt, slid the zipper down and let it fall to the floor. I knelt to slide her panties down and was faced with a thick mat of dark pubes from her bikini line down between her thighs. I grabbed a handful, tugged lightly and heard her sigh.

Guiding her backward onto the couch I lifted her legs and pulled them wide. She bent her knees and spread her legs open. I felt the warmth of her pussy on my face and smelled her delicate odor. I knew the basic geography, in this case mostly hidden by her abundant pubes. I considered fingering her for awhile or even eating pussy for the first time, but my dick was now fully hard and bobbing slightly in time with my pulse. It wanted one thing.

So I simply guided my dick into her crotch and rubbed it up and down until I felt the wetness of her opening. She wasn't the only one who learned a lot from the Internet! Pushing in slightly drew a gasp from Mrs. Goldstein and then I let my weight push my dick slowly into the wet clasp of her warm pussy. Finally my full length was buried inside her and she was panting.

"Yes, oh yes that feels wonderful!" she whispered, and I began thrusting and withdrawing, thrusting and withdrawing. She provided plenty of pussy juice to ease the sliding of my dick, in and out.

"You're bigger than I thought," she whispered, looking up at me. "I thought a young guy would be smaller" and I replied by withdrawing my full length, slamming into her hard again and again as she cried out with pleasure.

Soon I picked up a rhythm, in-out, in-out, and though her pussy got wetter I still felt the friction of my dick head sliding against her inner walls. In and out I went, a little faster, then faster still, her gasps, little whimpers and panting were loud in the quiet room. I saw her watching my face while tugging at her nipples, stretching them up until her big tits hung suspended.

She came!

Her gasps came closer and closer together followed by a prolonged high-pitched keening and her hips started thrusting as she cried out.

"Ah. Ah. Ah. AH. AH. AAAAHHH!" she cried, ending in a long groan as her pussy squeezed my plunging dick. "Mygod, mygod, ohmygod!" she said, her hips pushing up at me. She thrashed under me, her heels digging into my back.

I felt my orgasm coming, my balls contracting, and I clenched my internal muscles to delay the explosion. But it was no use. I felt a burst of pleasure as my seed shot out of my dick, spurt after spurt, to fill her pussy. Weakness overcame me as my last weak spurt dribbled from my dick inside Mrs. Goldstein. I collapsed on top of her, pillowing my head on her big breasts.

"Ohmygod that was amazing!" I whispered. She sighed and stroked my hair.

"Were you a virgin sweet boy?" she asked in the silence afterwards.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Then I'm glad I'm your first. They say you never forget your first lover."

"I know I'll never forget you!"

"Oh!" Mrs. Goldstein cried, "get up! I have a cramp."

So I rolled off her, stood up and helped her to her feet.

"Where's the cramp? I could rub it for you."

But Mrs. Goldstein was standing beside the couch, her legs spread wide and her hand cupped below her pussy.

I had time to ask myself what she was doing before she carefully raised her cupped hand to her mouth and began slurping the mixture of sperm and pussy juice that oozed from her pussy. My dick stirred, but I could only shake my head in amazement as her hand returned to her pussy for another serving and she slurped again.

"Do you really have a cramp?"

"What I really have is an obsessive need to drink your sperm, and you can't argue with obsession," she smiled. Then she dropped to her knees and took my shrinking dick in her mouth, her tongue tickling my dickhole and her hands milking me for the last drops of sperm.

Then, licking her lips, she said, "I'm going to have to shave so I don't lose so much of your delicious sperm in my pubes. You'll help me with that won't you Chris?"

I could only nod silently.

"And you'll have to learn how to eat me so you can give me orgasms after I've drained your sperm. I have to give you orgasms, of course, to get what I need, but I want to try new things. And luckily boys your age recover fast."

And that's how my 18th summer began.