Mom and Her Friend

I went over to Julia's house at least twice or three times a week. She couldn't seem to get enough of me! Maybe it was just because of her long drought: the moment she understood that she could have a guy in her bed on a regular basis, she jumped at the chance, like a kid in candy store. I was happy to oblige. Over the weeks I started to like her quite a lot, and she became much friendlier, even acting like a sort of kittenish coed at times. And she eventually got to like butt sex!

I got to the point of lounging around in the mornings, being in no rush to go home. There wasn't much for me to do at home anyway, now that my mom's body was off-limits to me. So that's what I was doing one Saturday morning in late August, only a week or so before my junior year would start at college, when something strange happened.

The front door opened. Someone clearly had a key.

The person who walked in was a girl. I won't say she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen--but she was pretty sensational! Quite petite (five foot two, I'd say), with a slender figure but with nice, soft curves all over, and a face that was both really lovely but also suggested a lot of brains. And yet, it also seemed so utterly innocent.

She stopped short when she saw me sitting on the sofa in the living room. Obviously, she didn't expect anyone to be there except Julia.

Looking at me wide-eyed, she said, "Who are you?"

What could I say? I didn't even know who she was, but I was getting a feeling . . . And the thought shot through my mind:

Why didn't Julia tell me she had a daughter?

If that was who this girl was, I certainly couldn't say:

Oh, I just banged your mom all night, and I'm just taking it easy now.

Luckily, I was fully dressed. There were times when I would mosey around the house just in my underwear, or even entirely naked. That would have been awkward!

As the girl continued to stare at me, I stammered, "Well, I, um, I do stuff for Julia."

"What stuff?" she asked sharply.

"Oh, you know, just stuff around the house."

At that moment Julia came downstairs. She was wearing only a robe over a nightgown. She stumbled a bit on the stairs as she saw the girl, and a weird little sound came out from deep in her throat.

"Mom, who's this?" the girl asked.

Julia swallowed hard. "He, um, his name is Todd."

"He says he does stuff around the house. What possible stuff could you need him to do?"

"Oh, gardening, things like that."

"Gardening? You've never done any gardening!"

"That's why he's doing it, dear." Julia smiled, as if to say:

That was a smart thing to say, wasn't it?

"Todd, meet Ashley, my daughter."

"Hi, Ashley," I said, walking up to her and holding out my hand.

"Hi," she said, still looking as if I shouldn't even be here. Turning her attention back to her mom, she said, "He doesn't seem to be doing much right now."

"Oh," Julia said, "he's done pretty much what he's come to do." That was no lie: I sure had! "Todd, I think the garbage needs to be taken out, so why don't you do that?"

"Sure, ma'am," I said.

Now here was the thing: where the hell did she keep her garbage? I assumed she was referring to a garbage bin in the kitchen; and since I didn't see one lying out in the open, I figured it had to be under the sink, where a lot of people keep it. It would be pretty embarrassing if I didn't know where it was! My cover would be blown--you know what I mean? Fortunately, the garbage bin

was

there, and I took it up (it was only about half full), went outside to the big container in the backyard, and emptied it.

When I brought the bin back, Ashley was looking at me again, watching my every move.

"I've seen you around campus," she said.

"Yeah, I think I've seen you around too," I said. I don't think I ever took any classes with her--I'm sure I would have remembered that--but I may have seen her walking around here and there.

"She's going to be a junior, just like you," Julia put in. "Why are you here anyway, dear?"

"I just wanted to pick up some stuff for my place before the term starts," Ashley said.

"Hey, I can help you!" I burst out. "I mean, I can give you a lift back to your place. Or do you have your own car?"

"I walked over here," Ashley said. "But thanks--I could use a lift back. Maybe I'll get a bit more stuff than I'd planned."

And she did. She ended up loading up my car with all manner of things--clothes, little items of furniture, and such--that she would never have been able to carry on foot. So I felt I was being helpful. And the strange thing was that, as we were sitting in the car, we felt a kind of closeness that usually doesn't happen for people who've only been acquainted for about an hour. The mere fact that I "knew" her mother made Ashley think of me as a kind of family friend. Of course, she wasn't aware that I "knew" Julia the way Adam "knew" Eve in the Bible! And there's no way I'd ever tell her.

When we got to her place--a tiny apartment a few blocks from campus--I unloaded most of the stuff. I guess that's what guys are supposed to do. And doing that made

me

feel closer to

her:

holding a big heap of her clothes in my arms--some of which, I thought (it may have been my imagination), had something of her body-scent still on them--caused me to think of her as a kind of little sister. Well, not exactly: first, we were almost exactly the same age (she'd turned twenty a few weeks after I did)--and the thoughts rolling through my mind were definitely not the thoughts a brother thinks of about her sister!

Yeah, I admit it: I wanted to take Ashley to bed right then and there. But I realized that would be a scummy thing to do. With a girl like her, you have to win her over--court her, woo her. And that's exactly what I wanted to do.

Without knowing it, she helped by offering make dinner for me. I would have been happy to go out somewhere and get a pizza or something--but she said, "Oh, I can whip up something here. I'm not the greatest cook in the world, but I'd like to get a little more practice. Hope you're willing to be my guinea pig!"

Of course I was. And I felt she was being too modest. In fact, the meal she prepared--spaghetti and meatballs with a little salad on the side, and even some homemade garlic bread--was fabulous, and I ate every bit of it. All through the dinner I took in her loveliness (I didn't stare, of course--that would have been rude), but I also got a sense of the kind of person she was. She seemed super-smart (way smarter than most of the kids at our college), but, like a lot of smart people, not really comfortable with folks on an emotional level. Had she even had a boyfriend before? I couldn't tell.

After dinner, she asked if I wanted to watch one of her DVDs on her little TV. I couldn't tell if she really meant it, or just felt obliged to make the offer out of courtesy. If I said, "No, I'd better be getting home," would she take that as a brush-off? I certainly didn't want her to think so--but I also didn't want her to think that I took the offer as basically an invitation to spend the night in her bed. So I said, "Sure--but I'll have to go home right afterwards." That was a neat solution, wasn't it?

So we sat and watched the movie. I was kind of afraid it would be some silly "chick flick," but she surprised me by putting on an old film noir from the 1940s what was really cool. Glorious black and white! It was riveting, and we both loved it. And yes, she eventually allowed me to put an arm gently around her shoulders as we drew closer and closer to each other on the couch.

After it was over, I was true to my word and got up to leave. At the door I looked down at her (I was, like, six inches taller than her), bent down, took her chin in my hand, and gave her just the quickest little kiss on the mouth. Just a peck, really. But even that was surprising to her: she looked at me with wide eyes that had just a bit of fear in them. That made me sad, because I didn't want to frighten her. But then she said:

"How about another? I wasn't ready for that one. And make it longer this time."

I'm yours to command, ma'am! So this time I actually held her in my arms, and kissed her firmly but still gently. I knew that with a girl like her you had to go slow. Rushing things would just end up offending her or making her angry. So I just gave her this kiss that lasted for about five seconds, and then I let her go. Her lips fluttered against my own, kind of like a butterfly's wings, and she kept them tightly closed: maybe she was afraid I'd stick my tongue into her mouth. Of course I'd never do that--not right then. Maybe later!

Then I let her go and left the place. I think I made it clear that I wanted more--and I'm pretty sure she did too.

So that's how we began dating. We saw each other a bunch of times, and each time we got just a little bit more intimate. But still, it wasn't all that much. I know what people say: if you haven't slept with a girl on the third or fourth date, you never will. And college kids are ready to jump into bed with each other at the least opportunity. Most of them are on their own and away from Mom and Dad, with all these people of the opposite sex around them all the time. But I knew that with Ashley I couldn't expect to do that. And I didn't want to.

Her apartment was a lot nicer than my crappy rooming house, so we spent most of our time there. One evening we were listening to some music, sitting on a little loveseat in the living room, and she ended up sitting on my lap. It was early in the new semester, and the weather was still pretty warm, so she was just wearing a tank top and a bra underneath, with a thin wraparound skirt. Her chest came right to the level of my face. I'm sure she knew that would happen, and she was too smart not to realize that I'd get excited by that.

Now I have to tell you something: she didn't have the biggest breasts in the world. Mom had pretty huge breasts, and Julia had a nice pair--but Ashley's were quite small. I could tell that even without seeing them uncovered. But that's okay! Sometimes small is good. Right now, as she sat on my lap, I just rested my head on her bare skin, just under her chin. There was just a bit of cleavage showing, but what really got to me was the heavenly aroma radiating from her body. It was intoxicating! Meanwhile she was holding my head with both of her hands. Sometimes she kissed me on the top of my head.

I could tell she was getting excited: her breathing was getting faster, making her breasts rise and fall. I was pretty sure she wanted me to do something. With the dreamy strains of John Coltrane's jazz music in the background, I slid a hand up under her skirt and found that place between her legs.

She gasped, but didn't push my hand away. In fact, she held my head even tighter to her chest and opened her legs just a little bit. She wanted me to go on! And no wonder: I could sense that the crotch of her panties was pretty damp from her wetness. And so I began applying the lessons I'd learned from my sessions with my mom and her mom.

I pushed the panties aside and fastened my fingers gently to her sex. She let out a tiny high-pitched sound like the mewing of a cat and spread her legs farther. More fluid came out of her pussy--man, she was flowing like a river! So I fondled her labia and clitoris, sometimes inserting a few fingers into her vagina a little ways--but far enough that I made a surprising discovery.

She was a virgin.

Yes, I could feel that silly little barrier there, still intact. Well, that was a fact I would file away for later; right now, my whole purpose was to get her off. Aside from stroking her labia up and down, I pressed her clitoris against her pelvic bone--women love that, believe me! In fact, the first time I did that she emitted with a shrill squeal that made me understand I was on the right track. And so was she: by this time, the momentum of her own sensations was getting to her, and in a little while she was practically bouncing up and down on my lap, her legs twitching and her breath coming out raggedly.

She was coming!

I sensed that this was the first time she'd ever had an orgasm in the presence of a man. She was trying to hold back, just the way her mother did--but I kept on with my work, and pretty soon she was wailing like a banshee and quivering all over. She even whimpered a little, as if her climax was almost too much for her. I was just playing her like a musical instrument!

And then she pushed my hand roughly away and slid off my lap, landing heavily on the seat next to me. She had this stupefied expression on her face, as if she couldn't believe what she'd gone through. Her face was all red--partly from exertion, but partly (I sensed) from sheer embarrassment that it was a guy, not her own fingers, who had brought on this monumental orgasm.

"Did you like that?" I said softly.

She looked shyly at me, still breathing hard. All she could do was nod.

But, as I've said before, she wasn't a dummy. Even though I'd been totally focused on her pleasure, she knew what this whole session had done for me. Maybe she'd even felt it as she sat on my lap.

So she said, "I guess you'd like something in return?"

I knew she didn't mean actual sex. But I wasn't going to say no to a handjob! I replied, "Well, sure, if you want to."

Her blush deepened. "I'm not sure I know how."

"Ashley, it's not rocket science. I'll show you."

With that, I stood up and began to undress.

She didn't expect that. She thought she'd just unzip my pants, fish out my cock, and pump it. But I said, "It'll be easier this way. Anyway, guys make a mess--you must know that." That's what my mom had said!

There was a look of mingled fascination and alarm on her face as I took off one piece of clothing after the other. When I was finally down to my underwear, her eyes became glued to that spot--mostly because she could already see my erection distorting my briefs. So I took them off.

She clapped a hand over her mouth as she saw a naked cock for the first time. I felt sorry for her--and almost wished I had a smaller dick! The look on her face told me the whole story:

How will I ever get that huge thing in me?

Of course, that wasn't on the cards, but I'm sure she sensed that it would happen one day--maybe soon.

"Do you mind if we go to the bed?" I said. "It's better if I'm lying down."

I ambled over to her tiny bedroom, which had hardly anything in it except a queen-size bed and a small easy chair in the corner. She followed me like a zombie--and again the idea flashed through her mind,

Omigod! I'm going to have a naked man in my bed!

I lay down flat on my back. The bed was kind of low, and when she knelt down on the floor next to it she could easily reach out and take hold of my cock. She was about to do that when I said, "Ashley, can I ask you something?"

"What?" she said.

"Would you take your top off?" I wanted to see something of her while she was jerking me off.

She looked down sadly at herself. "I don't have much in the boob department."

I smiled benevolently at her. "I'm sure they're lovely. You're lovely."

The look she gave me was so full of gratitude that I thought she was going to cry. She pulled off her tank top over her head and then, with only a moment's hesitation, reached behind herself and unclasped her bra.

Oh, man, those little tits were so cute! They were probably A cup, but they were perfectly shaped and symmetrical and with the pinkest little nipples I'd ever seen. (Okay, I'd only seen two other pairs of nipples before these, but you know what I mean.) I gasped and said, "Oh!" in a reverential voice, and that seemed to please her.

So now she did reach out and take my cock in her hand. It was already really hard, and she was surprised how much effort it took to lift it up off my belly and make it stand straight up. At first her pumping of it was so gentle that it didn't do much for me, so I placed my hand over hers and showed her how to do the job more vigorously. She got the hang of it fairly soon, but the exertion made her frown and stick her tongue a little bit out of the corner of her mouth, as if she was working on a really hard math problem.

I reached over to grab one of those tits, and it felt fine in my hand--soft, tender, but still with a certain firmness. And the nipple was super-hard. I twirled it with two fingers--man, did that like that! She pumped me harder and harder, her eyes glued to the whole process.

And then I exploded.

After all the sex I'd had with my mom and her mom, you wouldn't think I'd get so excited over something like this. But seeing this naïve little girl work so hard and so earnestly to get me off touched something deep inside me, and when I came I sent multiple shots of come high into the air before they landed wetly on my belly. Ashley squealed and then started laughing uproariously at what she had accomplished--and it was all her doing!

I just gazed lovingly at her as my cock kept on pouring out my discharge. Some of it dripped down over her hand, and when I was finally finished she peered at the little white drops with a sort of awe. Then, impulsively, she lifted her hand to her mouth and scooped up one thick drop with her tongue.

She immediately made a face. "Eew! It's so salty! Why is it salty?"

"I don't know. It just is."

She snatched up some Kleenex from the nightstand and mopped up all the come. Now it was like she wanted it out of sight as soon as possible. I wasn't surprised: this was the stuff that could make her pregnant! But then, to my surprise, she leaped up onto the bed and snuggled up next to me. Gazing up at me, she said, "Did I do well?"

"You were fabulous. I can't remember when I've come so fast."

She glowed with self-satisfaction--and why not? She'd passed the first test of womanhood: giving a guy a handjob. Always a useful skill to have!

I also think she liked feeling her naked boobs rubbing up against my chest. And that's what made me say, "I don't suppose you'd like to take the rest of your clothes off?"

She pondered that for several moments, then nodded to herself. And in seconds she'd peeled off her skirt and panties.

I didn't see much of her lower half, but I could feel her bush next to my leg. She had even less than her mom (who had less than my mom)--only a few straight strands of black hair covering her delta. But her butt was really nice and curvy, and she seemed to like it when I put my hand on it and gave it some good squeezes.

But then she said, "I, um, don't think I'm ready to . . ."

To go all the way.

I knew what she meant. "I understand, Ashley. You just take your time and tell me when you feel up to it."

That comforted her, and she pressed her body closer to mine. It was splendid!

The funny thing was that, without being fully aware of what she was doing, she began stroking my cock--and, especially, my balls, which seemed to draw her hand like a magnet--while pasting little kisses on my chest and shoulders and the side of my neck. I had to remember that she'd never been with a naked guy before. But the inevitable happened--and that scared her.

She looked at me wide-eyed and said, "You're hard again!" It was almost an accusation.

"Well, Ashley," I said, "what do you expect, when you play with my cock like that?"

She let it go at once as if it was radioactive. "I--I thought a guy couldn't do it more than once every twenty-four hours."

I almost laughed in her face. "Who told you that?"

"One of my friends."

"Well, she's way off. Some guys may not be able to come more than once at a time, but I can." I didn't want to sound boastful, but I couldn't help adding, "I've been known to come four or five times, one after the other."