Mother's Peach Cobbler

I'd studied the way the gardeners eyed up my mother and it intrigued me to no end. They flirted with her and paid her compliments that even I could sense a double meaning in. She pretending to disapprove but I could tell the attention thrilled her. Every woman wants to feel desired. She was just getting back into dating, five years after my father had died, and was starting to really enjoy herself. She went out several nights a week and stayed out late leaving me to myself and my budding sexuality.

When she was gone I liked to study the one sexy magazine I had, that I'd stolen with a girlfriend from her older brother's stash. I'd stare at the pictures and read the words and entertain vague and uncertain fantasies of seduction and sex.

When the gardeners were redoing the back garden I watched them work, allowing feelings to stir inside me. These were new explorations for me, thoughts of touching and being touched, and I was thrilled with the way I could sit still without moving and feel my nipples growing hard and the lips of my pussy beginning to swell. I loved the rush of desire but it confused me too.

The men were all tan and lean and spoke a rapid-fire Italian as they worked. For the most part they ignored me so I was able to watch from the side fence, enjoying the sight of the sun on their shiny brown hair, and the easy way they worked with their hands. I wondered about their muscular chests, whether they were hairy the way men in the magazine were.

I sat and let my mind wander, undressing the men in my mind, trying to imagine what their cocks might look like, how dark or light their skin would be next to mine, and as the image of a brown, work-worn hand creeping up and up my skirt made me almost gasp, I was shaken from my dreamy state by the voice of my next-door neighbor.

He was a very kind, older man who'd done a lot for my mother and I since my dad died. He was a widower himself and knew something of the difficulties of continuing after the death of a loved one. He hadn't spoken that directly, but I knew that was why he'd taken to bringing us little offerings of baked bread and home-grown vegetables and inviting us to dinner once in a while.

Just now he was looking at me with concern, commenting on my flushed face and somewhat labored breathing. I was clearly startled and confused and he suggested I come out of the heat and have a glass of water. I followed him through the gate between our yards and into the coolness of his house, still a bit dazed. He poured some chilled water over ice and handed it to me, smiling kindly.

The air conditioning sent a shiver through my body and I felt my already-hard nipples contract even more. My head felt fuzzy and my arms felt weak as I reached for the glass and stammered a 'thank you' just before I drained the glass in three gigantic gulps. He smiled again, slightly puzzled, and took it from my hand, turning to the sink to refill it.

I watched him through my arousal, in a way I'd never watched him before, and found his motions so enticing, so mysteriously potent. I watched him pour the water over the ice in my glass and realised that most of the feelings I was having were rooted between my legs, that my pussy felt wet, that an insistent pulse throbbed and intensified when he turned and met my eyes.

I must have looked as dazed as I felt because his face became all concern and then his eyes slid down to where my breathing made my chest rose and fell and my nipples pressed against the fabric of my shirt. The concern in his eyes slowly faded as recognition of my arousal set in.

He held the glass in his hand, halfway between our bodies but I couldn't move to take it. I just stood, knowing his eyes were on my body, knowing the weakness in my knees was my own unexplored desire. Knowing he was watching me in this state, knowing he was only inches away but entirely off-limits.

He started to open his mouth to speak but closed it again and just stood there staring at me, or more precisely, at my breasts and protruding nipples, the glass of ice water still halfway between us in his hand.

Something was happening and it was happening to both of us. Right here in his kitchen on a nice suburban street, thoughts were rushing through both of our minds that would have made us blush to speak out loud.

I wanted him to do something rash, to grab me and take me, though I had no real experience with sex so I couldn't imagine the details entirely. My heart began to hammer and I felt a blush creep up my face as I spat out a 'thank you i have to go' and left the door wide open as I rushed back to my house next door.

I hid out in my room and touched myself in every way I knew, orgasming again and again with vague images of his hands on my body, his mouth kissing mine. For two days I felt sick to my stomach with sexual longing and replayed in my head, in as many ways as I could imagine, that afternoon in his kitchen, exploring my desire in an feverish way.

I stayed away from him, barely leaving the house for those days, completely terrified of what he must think of me, until I couldn't hide out any longer. My mother had made a peach cobbler for him and she wanted me to deliver it right away.

"He's always been so helpful and kind, it's about time we repaid him." she explained. She wasn't particularly domestic, so this was a big accomplishment for her to have baked a whole cobbler from scratch. She made it pretty clear how important it was to her that he have it but that she was too shy to deliver it herself, lest he get the wrong idea.

I thought of leaving it on the side porch and claiming I'd knocked but he wasn't in, but once I'd stepped outside the house I felt that familiar buzz of excitement and intrigue, all my nerves alert and working. I felt dizzy, my breath stuck in my chest, and I found myself at his doorstep, knocking, before I'd even had time to consider chickening out.

He answered the door and smiled but I noticed his lips quivered once and he didn't say a word as he looked at me. I opened my mouth but no sound came out so I held up the still-warm cobbler as if to explain and he stepped back from the door to make room for me to come inside. As I brushed past him I felt every hair on the back of my neck stand up and the familliar ache reawaken between my legs. The feelings rushed over me so fast I almost fell down.

He found his voice and asked a few brisk and simple questions, following me to the kitchen and taking the cobbler from my hands to place it on the counter. He avoided my eyes and rambled a little about nothing in particular, trailing off now and again, and all the while my heart beat faster and faster as I listened, unable to answer back.

I found myself beginning to sweat and shake just by being near him. After all, I'd just spent two days imagining us as lovers, imagining doing things I'd only heard vague rumors about from my girlfriends at school, things that thrilled me to my core but still left me hungry for the real thing.

From there it happened quickly. He raised his eyes and I thought I'd faint. He moved or I moved, or we both moved forward at the same time, and just before my first real kiss I felt his arms wrap around me. I felt the warmth of his body near mine.

I allowed myself to be led by his mouth since I'd never kissed before, and quickly found the rhythm, my mouth opening and closing in answer to his. He paused now and again and I'd catch my breath while his lips just grazed my forehead and cheek. He positioned my hands, bringing them up around his neck while his slid lower, pulling me against his and I felt for the first time, the pressure of a growing erection against my belly.

His hands stroked my back, moving outward to frame my hips, and as he did his kisses became more fevered, his lips sliding down to my neck. I trembled in an entirely new way, my whole body shaking. He pulled my hands from his own neck and kissed each one of them before returning them to my sides and for a moment he seemed to measure me with his eyes and I saw a hungry look I'd never seen before.

He tilted my head in his warm hands, tilting it up toward his own face, and kissed me very deeply and I heard a muffled moan before I realised it was mine. He continued to kiss me and his hands moved down my throat and over my shoulders. I felt like I was melting in his hands and I didn't care if I melted away.

When he broke the kiss I realised his fingers had begun to unbutton my blouse from the bottom up. My heart jumped and I had to hold onto his waist to keep from staggering. His fingers worked quickly on the tiny plastic buttons, creeping upward until they were just near my breasts and I could feel their warmth through the fabric. The reality of it hit me; one more button.

That was when he stopped and looked right into my eyes. His face was a mix of emotions I couldn't even name but I felt safe and ready for what would come next. He must have been giving me a chance to back out during that pause, but I made no move to stop his fingers as they worked the last button through its hole and drew the fabric of my blouse apart and down over my arms.

His face was flushed with desire and as he looked down, my gingham blouse fluttering to his kitchen floor, he half-gasped, half-moaned at the sight of me half naked in front of him. My head spun as his hands touched my bare skin just below my breasts, so gently and so slowly moving upward as he whispered, "So perfect."

I watched his fingertips sliding over the swell of my breasts, stroking gently and moving nearer and nearer my nipples and felt a strange desire to cry. A familiar energy begin to surge through my body from my toes straight up my spine and I realised I was about to be touched for the first time in my life. I was thrilled and scared all at once.

I wanted something I couldn't name, I wanted to cling to him, to force him to move quickly, to touch me everywhere at once, and in at the same instant his fingers found my nipples I began to orgasm in a rapid succession of pulses, my insides throbbing in a sudden, hard rhythm. I gasped. I couldn't help myself, it was so unexpected and so powerful. I'd never felt anything like it before and I knew it was only the beginning.

He cupped my right breast in his palm and pulled me close to him with his other arm. I heard my own ragged breathing against his neck as he simply held me there, soothing me. He pressed his mouth against my ear and asked if I wanted to stop. I couldn't speak, I could barely breathe normally, so I slid my hand down between our bodies and traced the outline of his cock beneath the fabric, barely believing I could be that bold.

He gripped my breast and started kissing my neck. Then things began to happen so quickly I felt I was on a roller-coaster speeding out of control. He worked his way downward with his kisses, pulling me hard against him and I felt, with some alarm, his teeth against my skin. He stepped me backwards until I hit the kitchen counter at my waist and then his mouth was on my breast, his tongue flicking out to touch my nipple.

All the while he was working my shorts down my hips and I felt a slight chill as they hit the floor and I realised he'd stripped me of my panties too. He took one of my breasts in his mouth and started to suck it. I squealed with delight and shock and fear all at once as jolts of electric pleasure zipped through my body. I stared as he opened his mouth and I saw his tongue roughly flicking over my hard nipple. It was the most exciting thing I'd ever seen and it was happening to me.

I didn't want him to stop, but he continued downward, licking and kissing, and I shuddered as I watched him kneel in front of me, still working his way down toward my pussy. I stiffened and gripped the counter behind me, unsure of what to do. He sensed my fear and slowed his kisses, stroking my breasts and down over my hips with his wide, warm hands.

His mouth was in my pubic hair and I heard him breathe deep and moan. I felt the warmth of his exhaled breath against my pussy and began to tremble. He placed a hand on either of my hips and looked up at me. I was struck by how handsome I found his lined face, his earnest, searching expression. I trembled even more and whimpered with an uncontrolled desire, an uncertain fear.

And then he stood and wrapped his arms around me and held me without a word. I think he meant to stop what we were doing but his gentle hug turned to stroking and as his hands slid down my back, over my waist, down to my ass, I heard him moan against my neck. He began to kiss me again, more forcefully, his tongue splitting my mouth open and sliding inside to explore. I moaned back, suddenly passive but intensely aroused.

His hand snaked around and slid between my legs and I felt the incredible warmth of his palm pressed flat against my bare pussy. I squeezed my thighs together trapping his hand there, suddenly afraid of what it would feel like to be touched so directly, suddenly unsure of everything that was happening.

It was then he asked me if anyone had ever touched me before. If I'd ever fooled around with anyone else. I shook my head 'no', unable to speak. He withdrew his hand from between my legs and slid it up over my breast. He looked me in the eye and asked if I ever touched myself. His fingers stroked my nipple in a careful, circular motion as he waited for my answer.

Despite the fact that I was already naked in front of him, I blushed. His gaze was intense and I realised his hips were pressed against mine, hard against the kitchen counter. I felt unable to move, unwilling to try.

"Do you touch yourself?" he whispered, increasing the pressure on my nipple, "Do you touch your lovely pussy?" I gasped at hearing him speak that word and he took it as a sign to continue. His fingers pinched my nipple then moved over to my other breast and resumed their circular strokes. I shivered uncontrollably.

"Do you touch your pussy," he took my nipple between his thumb and finger and pinched it so hard I grunted, "and pretend it's someone else touching you?" He cupped the breast in his hand and pushed it upward, bending his head down to meet the pink nipple with his tongue.

"Do you pretend it's me?" he whispered before taking my whole breast into his open mouth and sucking hard. His tongue moved against my nipple in rhythmic motions, his lips making lewd sucking sounds as his mouth slid over my skin. I felt the rising ache in my cunt as he sucked harder and harder and then his hand moved down between my legs again.

I went limp in his arms and made no move to stop his searching hand or roaming mouth. He kissed and bit my breasts and nipples. I started to moan again, feeling dazed and dizzy, my whole body loose and hot. He parted my legs with his hand just enough to slip his fingers between my thighs and up against the outer lips of my pussy.

"Do you want me to touch you?" he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, his forehead dotted with beads of sweat. He started to stroke the hairs, barely grazing my swollen cunt lips and asked, "Do you want me to touch your pussy?" His fingers felt firey hot against the wetness of my cunt and I could feel a steady pulse inside of me, my desire rising at the sound of his words.

I couldn't speak and I couldn't move. I leaned against him limply and could hear my own whimpering breath. I wanted to faint or be fucked, I didn't know which. I didn't know what to think or feel but he saved me from having to choose as he slid one finger between the wet lips of my cunt and pushed it deeper and deeper until I realised he was entering me, entering my cunt hole without waiting for my answer.

I heard myself gasp again as he withdrew the finger, sliding it forward to flick my clitoris. He didn't say a word but I caught him watching my face closely as he slid his finger back in, quickly, as deep as it would go, then withdrew it again, barely grazing my clit on the way out. I'd thought it would hurt but it felt like heaven, a million times better than anything I'd done to myself in bed at night, and so much more potent.

He continued to finger fuck me this way and I felt a building sensation of ache in my cunt each time he thrust inside me. I wondered if he would take out his cock, if he'd put it inside me, if it was bigger than his fingers, and if it would hurt. I thought of reaching out to touch him, to search for the zipper of his trousers but I couldn't move except in reaction to the motion of his hand against my pussy.

My orgasm was building as he knelt in front of me again and pressed his face into my wet pubic hair. He continued pushing his fingers into me but used the fingers of his other hand to spread the lips of my cunt open. I staggered, steadying myself with my hands on his shoulders, and cried out as he opened his mouth and his tongue flicked against my clit in a rapid motion.

I couldn't believe this was real, his tongue on my clit, his fingers fucking into me, and my own cries of passion. It was better than anything I'd ever imagined and as my cunt began to clutch I pressed myself down, grinding my cunt against his mouth. I felt his teeth on my clit, a stab of delicious pain and then the throbbing of my cunt as I came for the first time in my life at the hands of a man.

My cunt had stopped throbbing long before I caught my breath. He stood and wiped his face and slid his arms around me. He held me for a while as I calmed down but when he let go I found I couldn't stand. My legs felt like rubber, my whole body weak, and he smiled down at me and eased me over to a chair at the table.

He washed his hands at the sink as I sat, still dazed, watching. Then he fixed two glasses of water and was bringing them to the table when the telephone rang. He answered it calmly and I felt my heart skip a beat as he warmly greeted my mother on the other end. Instinctively, I scrambled to gather my scattered clothes as I listened to his end of the conversation. From the few words he spoke I could tell she was just checking to see that I was there, and, more importantly, that I'd delivered his present like she'd asked. He winked at me as he gushed over the cobbler she'd sent and how delicious it was.

I was a tangle of confusion and fear and could barely button my own blouse as he chatted easily with my mother, but he put his warm hand on my shoulder and smiled. My trembling subsided and I knew, somehow, it would all be ok.

In truth, it turned out better than ok, as my mother continued to perfect her cobbler recipe and branched out into other baked desserts, always using me as her delivery girl. And now when I pull out the 3x5 index card from my recipe box there's a slight ache between my legs and an involentary rush of desire.