'Look,' said Sam's Mum, 'he's 22, he lives at home and he's... well, dependent.'
I looked at her. We were sitting in Starbucks in Kings Cross. I usually meet strangers in public places, it's safer and, although I'm always on the hunt for probing fingers and cocks, for that gorgeous spreading of my wet pussy that comes when they realise how ready I am, I don't take stilly risks. Sam, though, was a commission. His Mum wanted him seduced. He was a virgin, she thought, and it was time to help because he'd been - well - listening. Maybe even watching. Greg didn't like it.
I could guess.
'What does Sam like?' I asked, stirring my latte.
She looked embarrassed but desperate. 'Fruit,' she said. 'Mainly.'
I nearly choked on my foam. 'Seriously? He gets off on fruit?'
'Food generally.' She said, 'but all the pictures on his wall are of me and fruit. Sometimes together.'
'And you? Are you fixated on him?'
Her eyes snapped sudden fury. 'Of course not. I'm married. Sam's stepfather, Gregoriev.'
I could imagine. Some enormous Russian comes along and impales your screaming mother on his huge Eastern cock every night, for hours, whilst you lie in bed and listen to her begging for it...
I like a challenge. And Sam looked gorgeous in the photo. And so I took the commission.
The house was in Hampstead Garden Suburb, a grand part of London, enormous mansions down quiet roads, off the beaten track. I had dressed carefully. They were her clothes, all of them. She'd chosen me because I looked like her, a little. I am small and slim and blonde, and my hair reaches my waist. I have green eyes, red lips and large round perky tits. She was kind of luscious. I think she thought I was too.
When I rang the bell I could hear it resounding somewhere deep inside the house, expensively. I checked my bag. I had two big firm bananas, with string attached to one end, two different melons (one of which I'd cut in half and the other - well, you'll see), loads of tubs of raspberries and a big jar of chopped mango. I had plans.
Sam answered the door. He was tall and fair, with freckles. He looked like a rower, and was dressed in gym kit, and shiny with sweat. He looked like he was in the middle of working out. 'Yes?'
I was ready. 'Your Mom sent me,' I said. 'I'm your birthday sports massage.'
He blinked. 'I don't think... I mean I wasn't expecting...'
I could see him torn between shyness, horror and politeness. I slipped in through the door.
'Your Mom chose me specially. She's coming by later to see how we've got on.'
He blinked. 'I thought she was out with Gregor... my stepfather.'
'She's back at four.'
He looked uncertain. 'A sports massage?'
I beamed. 'A special massage. I specialise in fruit...'
I opened my bag, and I swear at the sight of the bananas he reacted. I had been trying not to look at his shorts, because I could already see that there was a bulge there that a porn star would have been proud of. And reader, my God, it twitched. The boy was getting a hard on at the sight of a banana. God only knows what he'd do when he saw my melons. As to what was lurking in the bottom of the bag - well, I'd never used it before. We'd see.
I was in.
We headed past white stone staircase, through a huge open hall. On the table were pictures of his mother with what I guessed was Gregoriev. He looked as though he lifted buildings for fun. He looked as though he might have a fat knobbly cock. No wonder Sam, tall and gorgeous but like a rugby player, not a body builder, felt a bit outclassed. I guessed his cock would be straight. He was that kind of boy.
'Where do you want me?'
'We have a massage bed in the gym.'
Of course you do, I thought, eyeing the opulent carpets. Wouldn't want mango on those.
The gym was open, with a running machine, an exercise bike, free weights and a jacuzzi. A massage table lay at one side. The blinds were open but there was a big, green private garden outside. There were floor mats, and a big TV. There was soft music playing. I was as turned on by the room as by the man.
'We'd be better do it on the floor...'I told him.
'Not on the couch?' There was no doubt about his erection now, his cock was so enormous that when he got a hard-on it started to poke out of his waistband. 'I mean massage is usually...'
I smiled and looked him in the eye, 'trust your Mummy, you'll have my whole weight on you. And think about the fruit.'
Moments later he was lying on his front, everything off but his shorts. His body was pale and beautiful, he had more muscles than I'd realised. He'd been working out for some time, clearly. I swallowed, and he made a strangled sound. 'When you say fruit...' His voice was kind of hoarse. I couldn't believe it. I wondered if it was just bananas, or any fruit.
'I meant lots of fruit,' I said, slipping my dress off. My large lush breasts popped up, bouncing gently. My panties were wet with anticipation and I hadn't even touched him. 'mango, raspberries... Lots...'
'You're... stripping...?' He sounded horrified, but I took no notice and slipped my panties off, noticing that the crotch was wet with anticipation. 'The fruit gets everywhere...' I said. 'I find it's best this way and Mummy thought you'd like it the way she does. I do her.'
A blush spread across his face... 'you massage my mum...'
'She loves my fruit massages,' I said, suddenly inspired, 'I do them on her, and on Greg whilst she watches. Seems to make her really... Thrilled...'
