Mrs. Thompson Gets My Virginity

Part 2

When Mrs. Thompson and I were toweled dry from our shower, I was looking forward to climbing back in bed with her. She already got two loads of my sperm; I was sure I could do it a couple more times with her; maybe more. In anticipation, my cock stayed hard all during the shower. Mrs Thompson seemed to especially enjoy soaping my hard cock. Hell, I was an almost nineteen-year-old pool-boy, a virgin, and it was my first sex experience with a full grown woman--or anybody else--and I was dying for more.

She had sucked me off--the first blowjob I ever had--and swallowed my second load of cream. The first one was after she called me into her bedroom and took all her clothes off while I watched. Then, while she sat naked on the edge of her bed, she had me stand in front of her and asked to see my cock. I was already hard and when I opened my zipper and my hardon popped out, she held my throbbing member steady with her fingers.

I was so fuckin hot, that just seeing my dick only inches from her face and feeling her fingers on it, was all it took. My first squirt hit her in the center of her lips. She licked the cum off her lips and pointed my dick at her chest and watched the next ten streaks of my jizz splatter on her chest.

Ten minutes later, after she pulled my pants off and had me lie on the bed. She kneeled between my legs and took my cock and sucked it. It took less than two minutes of watching her give me my first blowjob before I filled her mouth with my virginal semen. I heard her make murmuring sounds pleasure with each spurt.

After I caught my breath, Mrs. Thompson said we could take a shower and have some supper. I was following her into her kitchen, admiring the round curve of her ass and imagining my tongue in her crack, when the phone rang.

"Shit!" she growled and picked up the phone. She listened to whoever it was with a look of growing annoyance. It made her look prettier. She said, into the phone, "Okay. Okay. Just stay right there. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

She looked at me with an "I'm sorry" expression and said, "Steve, a small emergency with one of my friends. I have to get dressed and go help."

Mrs Thompson looked as disappointed as I felt. She went into her bedroom and started putting on fresh clothes. "Tomorrow, we'll take up where we left off, baby. You're not mad, are you?" she said, touching my cheek.

I shook my head "no."

She picked up her used panties from the pile of clothes she had taken off before she sucked my off and held them out to me. "Souvenir, Steve. Take it home with you," she said with a knowing grin. I stuffed her panties in my pocket and watched her run a brush through her hair and touch up her lipstick. As she put new lipstick on, I remembered how she had worn off the previous layer. When she was ready, we left her apartment together.

Ten minutes later I was sitting on the edge of my bed in the rented house trailer I shared with my roommate Rob. My pants were around my ankles and I was holding Mrs. Thompson's panties with both hands, staring at them, studying every detail.

I looked inside at the reinforced crotch of the white panties. There was a small, yellowish stain right in the center. Then I noticed a dark pubic hair and it was all I could take. I flopped down flat on my back and crushed her panties to my face and inhaled. My other hand was wrapped around my hard cock, moving rapidly up and down. I sniffed and sniffed the crotch of her panties, intoxicated by the animal smell of the most private part of her. She gave me the panties knowing, or maybe hoping, I would sniff them and jerk off. When I was just on the edge, I put her panties on the tip of my cock just as my semen erupted.

When I came back to my senses and caught my breath, I opened my eyes. Standing at the open door to my room was my roommate, Rob. I wasn't embarrassed. Living in close quarters as we were, and being constantly horny, we had, early-on, come to an understanding about jerking off. Often, at night, we'd watch porn and jerk off sitting together on the sofa. We never touched each other, though.

"Where did you get the panties?" asked Rob.

I tossed the panties aside and stood and pulled up my pants before I answered. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." I was grinning like a poker player raking in a big pot.

"Don't tell me it's your dream girl, that woman where you work?" said Rob. There was a tone of skepticism in his voice.

"Fuck you, asshole. Did you get us anything to eat?"

"Yeah, a bucket of chicken; it's on the counter."

I started out of my room; Rob moved toward my bed. When I turned around the bedroom door, Rob was holding Mrs. Thompson's panties up in both hands, at arms length. Then he brought them right to his nose and sniffed, cautiously. He was only half turned away from me and because of the light from the window, his skinny frame was in partial silhouette. I saw the bulge in his crotch spring up almost instantly when the crotch of the panties touched his nose.

He dropped one hand to open and drop his pants while the other hand pressed the panties to his face. He had to use both hands to get his pants down to his ankles, and when he stooped to lower them, his face came out of silhouette and I saw a white drop (my cum!!) on his upper lip which he absently licked away. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, lay back, and began jerking off.

I went to the kitchen counter and found the chicken.

By the time I had a couple pieces of chicken on a plate, but before I could take the first bite, I heard the characteristic sounds of Rob in orgasm and felt, strangely, a twinge of jealousy. It was like he was fucking my girl, Mrs. Thompson. Then I remembered seeing his tongue swipe away a drop of my cum from his lip and the jealously was replaced with the satisfying feeling of having exacted revenge.

Rob came out of my room, put some chicken on a plate and began eating, as usual, standing up at the kitchen counter.

"So tell me about it," he said.

I was dying to tell him, and I did. In exquisite detail. I even told him about my premature ejaculation squirting on Mrs. Thompson's lips and chest. When I told him she had licked the cum off her lips, a funny look appeared on his face.

After we finished eating, he made me tell him again about my first blowjob and after I did, he pestered me with questions about it while I flipped through the channels on TV. I stopped flipping when I hit on a John Wayne movie that was just starting, "El Dorado." When the credits stopped rolling, Rob finally shut up and settled into his end of the sofa.

After the movie, Rob got up and took a shower; I went to my room to check my email and look in on a few websites. The object on my bed caught my eye. Rob had tossed Mrs. Thompson's panties on to my pillow.

I sat on the edge of my bed and held them in both hands at the waistband and peered inside, at the crotch. There was a much heavier deposit of semen than I could have put there (I had shot my third load of the day into it; my third load actually, within an hour.). I was looking at Rob's semen, which had over-covered my own deposit and half covered the pubic hair I noticed earlier.

Feeling a little like a sneak-thief, I dipped a finger into Rob's jizz and licked and tasted it. There was nothing definite, so I pulled the crotch up through the waistband and dipped my tongue into the pearly puddle and scooped up a bigger sample. The taste was awful beyond description. I tossed the panties aside and rushed to the kitchen sink to rinse my mouth.

I was on the borderline of sleep for a long time before I finally drifted off. Images of my cock spurting on Mrs. Thompson's lips and of the one drop of my cum that caught on Rob's lip when he sniffed Mrs. Thompson's panties after I jerked off in them. Both of them had licked my seed from their lips.

And I had licked Rob's semen from the crotch of Mrs. Thompson's panties. I remembered how bad it tasted, but for some reason, that particular thought aroused me to full wakefulness. I sat up, felt around until I found the panties. The crotch was still damp and the large glob of cum Rob had left there was tacky. Just touching it caused my dick to stand at attention.

I draped the panties over my face, being careful to place the damp crotch over my nose and lips, cum side down. I masturbated while I inhaled the combined scent of an older woman's cunt and the semen of my roommate while licking at the thickest part of the wet spot.

There wasn't much taste to Rob's cum this time, but the texture of it on my tongue was an unexpected pleasure. That, combined with a new image of semen draining from Mrs. Thompson's hairy cunt, with me, between her legs, eagerly lapping it up. It startled me to realize that it was not mine.

With that realization, I ejaculated, and felt the first drop or two hit my hair. With the tip of my tongue, I felt through the reinforced fabric of the crotch, the strike of another drop of hot jizz.

I woke up with Mrs. Thompson's panties still draped over my face. I put the panties aside. They were almost totally dry. I propped up on my elbows and looked down at my naked body. I had a piss-hardon, pointed at my face. There was a pattern of dried cum spots on my chest and belly, visible because of their satiny-gloss. Somewhat embarrassed at myself, I rolled out of bed. On my way to the bathroom I bumped into Rob who was halfway out the door, on his way to work.

It was an hour earlier than I usually wake up. I didn't have to be at my job until nine, and it was only a little before seven. I drank a big glass of water, got the coffee started, turned on the TV, went into the bathroom, and took a crap.

After my second cup of coffee, I went into the shower and, anticipating, Mrs. Thompson's promise to, "take up where we left off," I showered. Thoroughly.

At work, the day was agonizingly long. I wondered if I was still, technically, a virgin because my cock still hadn't entered Mrs. Thompson's (or anyone else's) pussy. Well, unless something bad happened, this evening there would no longer be any doubt.

Finally, it was time for Mrs. Thompson, to come home from work. I puttered around in the storeroom, waiting for the familiar, "tock, tock," of her high heels on the walkway. My hard cock was straining against my jeans and my will power was straining against an almost irresistible impulse to jerk off.

And then I heard her high heels on the pavement, but there was something odd about the sound. I halted in my rush to look out the door, momentarily confused by the odd sound and trying to figure it out; after a moment's thought, I realized the sound was of two pairs of high heels

Mrs. Thompson appeared all of a sudden in the storeroom door. "Hi Steve," she said, her usually bright voice toned down an octave or two to a seductive level. With a smile, she crooked her finger at me. "Lock up and come on over." The only word for her smile was, "lewd."

My heart was beating like the legendary hammers of hell. My mouth was dry. For a moment I thought I would faint. In other words, I was scared shitless.

"Okay," I croaked.

I leaned against a table for a few seconds to pull myself together. Then I locked the storeroom and bravely walked over to her apartment. As the day before, she left her door open. I went into the foyer and closed the door behind me.

"Make sure, it's locked, Steve," she called from the depths of her apartment.

I made sure, and went to look for her. Mrs. Thompson was in the room she called "the den," standing behind the wet bar, poised to pour liquor into the the first of a line of three heavy-looking, squat glasses.

Sitting on one of the bar's stools was a stunning and gorgeous redhead who, as she got to her feet when I entered the room, was also attractively tall--in a long-legged kind of way, and appeared to be about my age. She wore the same type of woman's business suit Mrs. Thompson wore, and she was smoking a very long and very thin cigarette. She looked at me with frank curiosity.

Shit!! What the hell was she doing here? Who the fuck was she?

Mrs. Thompson read my face and said, chuckling, "Steve, It's not what you think. This is Joanna. She works in my office. She won't get in the way of our plans."

I guess the relief showed on my face. "Scotch, Steve?" Mrs. Thompson asked holding the bottle up and smiling, maternally.

I had never tasted liquor and I said, "Sure."

She fixed the three drinks the same way: a little ice; a little water.

I moved right up to the bar. Joanna offered her hand and said, in a soft and mellow voice, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Steve."

Her hand was soft and warm, grip firm, but not overly so. Our eyes met; hers were a brilliant green and filled with mischief. From out of the blue, the word, "tomboy," jumped into my mind.

And it promptly jumped out when Mrs. Thompson suggested we get comfortable on the sofas. They were a few steps ahead of me--I had paused to sneak a quick taste of the dark liquid in my glass to see if I could hack it--and they were ensconced at opposite ends of one of the facing sofas by the time I caught up with them. I knew I would have been uncomfortable sitting between them, so I sat in the center of the facing sofa. And that was worse; now I was before an audience.

Mrs. Thompson sat with her legs crossed, showing a lot of thigh. Her black patent leather pumps lay where she had kicked them off. Joanna sat with her legs tucked under her and her green pumps were neatly aligned on the carpet below and a little over to the side.

I followed Mrs. Thompson's example and sipped at my drink. I had always heard that scotch whiskey tasted like cough medicine. I didn't think so; after the first swallow, I liked it.

We made getting-acquainted small talk. I learned that Joanna was working her way through college and had made it through sophomore. Her first goal was to get a bachelor's degree in physics with the ultimate goal of attaining Ph.D. She warmed to her subject and by the time she finished her monologue, I saw that my glass was empty and was also aware that Mrs. Thompson's eyes were never off of me. And I was feeling pretty good.

Mrs. Thompson, without any preamble, reached up under her skirt, tugged her panties down past her knees and ankles and tossed them onto the glass surface of the coffee table. I had time to note that they were a different color than the pair I had sniffed and masturbated to--and into--the night before. My erection was immediate.

Then she was on me. I recalled later hearing my dad tell his drinking buddies that there was nothing more ruthless than a woman going after sex. Until right now, I never quite understood what he meant.

She had that "zombie" look on her face. First, she heaved the coffee table over to make more room. Then she opened my zipper and when my cock came into view, she took it into her mouth, gave it a few quick sucks, stood up, lifted her skirt and mounted me.

I thought the blowjob she gave me yesterday was as good as it got. Nothing ever felt so good.

Until I felt my cock being enveloped by her cunt.

I thought it was crude even as I was thinking it, but in my joy and ecstasy I was thinking. "Oh my God, this is my first piece of ass!" As my virginal semen was pumped into her, my orgasm reached the point of being unbearable; before I could decide whether to push her off, the intensity diminished and all too soon, my orgasm was over.

My eyes opened and I caught a glimpse of Joanna, uncurled from the sofa, leaning forward and peering intently at the juncture of my and Maggie's groins. Her face had that "zombie"look, too. A split second later, Maggie planted her lips on mine and her tongue slipped into my mouth.

My erect penis hadn't diminished, and, in short order, I was ready to go for another orgasm.

But Maggie rolled off and settled her womanly butt on the edge of the sofa cushion beside me, her feet wide apart and planted on the floor, her hand holding the hem of her skirt up, exposing the dark tops of her stockings.

"Jo, come on sweetie," she croaked.

Before the words were out of her mouth, Joanna appeared between Maggie's legs, her face disappearing under the folds of Maggie's skirt. Maggie's hands gripped the back of Joanna's head like claws. Her fingers looked bloodless against the background of Joanna's brilliant red hair.

In a hoarse whisper, Maggie urged Joanna on. "Yes baby, yes baby, oooh...yeah! She went on like that for a while then fell silent for a while. During her silent moments, I heard occasional muffled slurping, kissing and smacking sounds. Maggie's head lay on the back of the sofa, her eyes closed, a cloud-nine expression on her face.

If I had not just squirted my usual eleven or twelve ropes of cum-juice, I would have shot it into the air without touching my cock just at the sight of this gorgeous red-head performing oral service on my dark haired Maggie.

Then Maggie began rubbing her breasts The movement of her hands became more urgent, and she fumbled with the buttons on her blouse without success and finally she simply ripped her top open, buttons flying in every direction. She pushed her brassiere up and and rubbed and squeezed her breasts, rolled her palms around and around on her nipples. I held my still-damp cock motionless in my hand as i watched Maggie's display of raw lust.

Joanna, kept her mouth working on Maggie's cunt. Maggie hooked her nylon-smooth legs over Joanna's shoulder and began humping up to Joanna's face. Maggie's face contorted in a way that suggested exquisite agony. "Yes baby, yes baby, yes, yes, oooh, ah...ah...ooooh"--Maggie's legs stretched out straight and rigid. Her hands became entangled in Joann's red hair--"oh, oh, AAHHHHH!" With her final tortured cry, Maggie's legs pulled back and clamped together and her hips bucked.

Joanna's head, except for a shock of her red hair that lay across the dark upper band of Maggie's black stocking, disappeared in the nyloned flesh of Maggie's thighs. Maggie moaned from deep in her belly and rocked from side to side. From the corner of my eye i noticed a tiny movement.

While Maggie moaned and rocked and humped with Joanna's head clamped between her legs, her nipples became erect and--something I had never heard of before--each nipple twisted upon itself.

Suddenly, Maggie's body went limp and she exhaled a long, shuddering sigh. She appeared to have lost consciousness.

Joanna's head popped up from under Maggie's skirt and and between her splayed out legs, and gasped for breath, like a diver breaking the surface. She shook her head in a quick manner that fanned her long, red hair behind her like a peacock's fan before it settled down. She patted Maggie's thigh with her slender, manicured hand. The bottom half of her luscious face was shiny wet and most of her lipstick had been worn away.

Maggie seemed very relaxed with a drowsy smile. Joanna, rather stiffly, got off her knees and stood up.

The front of Joanna's skirt was tented outward. I blinked my eyes and shook my head. No shit, I wasn't seeing things.

I looked at Maggie, my face a big question mark. She smiled and winked at me. "I hope you don't mind, Steve. Go with the flow," she said. "And stop doing that," she added, pointing at my cock which was in my fist. "I want to swallow your next load," she added with a lewd smile.

I released my cock from my grip. It felt momentarily cool, as the coating of Maggie's lubricious juice on my shaft, dried in the open air.

Joanna had inched a little closer to me. I inched away from her. She and Maggie exchanged a look and Maggie said, "Why don't we kids take a break from the fun? This ole gal needs a stiff drink." She hoisted herself up, told us to stay put and she would come back with the bottle.