The Caterer Comes Early

Although she wasn't expected till 5:30 in the evening when Mom would be home from work, Marsha, the caterer, showed up at 11 A.M. sharp.

I explained over the intercom that I couldn't help her with the menu, but she insisted on coming upstairs to see the condo.

I told her I'd leave the apartment door open and for her to wait in the living-room while I put on some clothes.

To my surprise, I found her sitting at the computer reading the story I'd spent the morning writing.

Normally I don't care if people see my unfinished work but this particular story was 100% smut, so I felt compelled to announce that it wasn't my typical stuff.

Marsha apologized for her "insatiable curiosity" before blurting out, "But I think your story's great!"

"Really?"

I walked right up behind her, close enough to peek over her shoulder and see the words on the screen. "What do you like about it?"

"The style – very descriptive but clear as glass."

Her skirt was gathered high on her thighs. To me it didn't matter that they were pudgy or that she was at least as old as my mother. The thought of a female playing with herself while reading my story was giving me a hard-on.

"That's what I learned last semester at college," I said. "Style should be invisible."

"Exactly," she replied. "And your style made me feel...well, like I was right there."

"Right where?"

"Here, for example."

Marsha proceeded to read:

Laura was dying for Joe to eat her out. But Joe wouldn't just do it. Laura had to tell him exactly what she wanted, and she had to be very polite.

"Lick my pussy," Laura said.

"Is that an order?"

"Please lick my pussy," Laura said, in a semi-pleading tone.

"I know what your pussy is," Joe said. "It's that shiny, wet slit behind the patch of curly black hair between your legs, but what do you mean by lick?"

"Spread my pussy lips open with your fingers, put the tip of your tongue inside my juicy hole, draw it slowly up to my clit, lick it two or three times up and down, then move your tongue in circles slowly around the clit, go back to the hole, fuck me a little with your tongue..."

"Fuck you?" Joe asked, raising his head from Laura's twat.

"I mean, please put the tip of your tongue inside my pussy hole... yeah, like that... slowly take it out... good... now put it in again... deeper... slowly slide your tongue back to the clit... uhhh, that feels good... now suck it like a nipple... no..."

"No?"

"I mean, please Joe, suck my clit very, very lightly... and slowly caress my clit with your tongue at the same time... That's it. God, you're making my clit throb, you're making..."

"You're?"

"Your tongue, your wonderful tongue feels like a butterfly's wings fluttering on my clit, and my clit is totally swollen, and with each touch of your tongue my clit itches more intensely... I feel like have to pee, like I've drunk a gallon of water and have to make the most tremendous pee. If you don't let me pee, Joe, I'm going to explode... I'm just going to... oh, Joe, I'm going, going to ex... oh... Joe, Joe..."

Marsha stopped reading and twisted backwards in her chair.

"I don't think I could have felt any more like Laura," she said, "if I were the lucky girl Joe was eating out."

She was straining her neck to see me, so I moved to her side.

"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about one of my stories."

"You're definitely talented... Hey, I was going to call you Joe, but it hit me that I don't even know your name."

"Yeah, it's Joe. I usually change the names – to protect the guilty! – after I've finished the first draft."

"I assume that Laura's your girlfriend?"

"In my dreams. None of my girlfriends have ever been so ...how should I put it?"

"Sexually uninhibited?"

"Exactly. They... um... fuck, but I always feel like... I mean, I wish I knew a girl as crazy about sex as I am."

"You sound frustrated."

"I guess I am. I mean... I feel weird saying this: I'm beginning to think that jerking off is more satisfying than fucking."

"Do you... jerk off a lot?"

"Whoa, this is getting kind of personal, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Joe, why don't you show me around?"

She was impressed with the kitchen appliances and extra deep counter, and was sure that the living and dining rooms would easily accommodate the guests. "But the reception area closet," she said, "definitely would be too small for thirty winter coats."

"We could put them on Mom's bed?" I suggested, and led Marsha down the hall.

"My, my," she said. "What a gorgeous piece of furniture! Way too nice to hide under a pile of coats, though. Maybe your bed would be better."

We went next door to my room. She immediately strolled over to the built-in bookshelf and browsed through the titles.

"You do have a taste for the erotic," she said, and turning towards me, added: "But I doubt your mother would want her business colleagues to know about her son's dirty mind."

"You're right, I suppose."

"Does your mother ever come in her? Does she know what you read?"

"She's never talked to me about it. But I know she borrows my books. I'm pretty anal. I've got them organized alphabetically and by subject."

"Have you noticed if she has any... special interests?"

"Girls," I said.

"Is she a lesbian?"

"She's never brought a woman home. But at night sometimes while I'm lying in bed, I hear her making herself come, and I have a pretty good idea what book she's reading."

Marsha sat on the edge of my bed. "Does that excite you? Listening to your mother play with her pussy?"

"Yes," I said. "Very much. Especially when her breathing speeds up and she starts moaning. Man, I get so turned-on. I picture her pussy..."

"Have you ever seen your mother's pussy, Joe?"

"She never wears anything under her bathrobe, so when she walks around or sits downs, I catch a glimpse of the hair on her twat."

"What does the hair on her twat look like?"

"Dark and thick...luxurious, I guess you'd say."

"Are you picturing it now, Joe?"

"I can't believe I'm telling you this... Yes, I'm picturing her pussy. Just like when I jerk off, with her in the next room. I try to imagine what her pussy looks like inside – the hole, the clit... Imagining her fingers rubbing and pinching her clit drives me nuts, but I jerk off slowly so we can cum at the same time."

Marsha was staring at the bulge in my pants. "I'd love to see your cock," she said. "Can I help you undress?"

Without waiting for an answer she rose, stripped me of my shirt, unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans and unzipped my fly. Then she stopped for a few seconds to gaze at my crotch before slipping my pants all the way off.

"It's been a long time since I undressed a boy... and even longer since I've sucked a young cock," she said. "Would you like to take off your underpants or have me pull them down?"

I felt an irresistible, almost infantile urge to give myself up to her. "I wish you'd do it," I said.

She removed my underpants, pressed them to her face, and smelled the crotch and seat before tossing them aside.

On both knees now, she licked my balls as if she were devouring an ice cream before it melted on a hot summer day, and then took my cock in her mouth and massaged it so firmly and deeply that I felt as if my whole body was smaller than her tongue.

She paused: "I'm oral," she said. "That's probably what attracted me to catering."

After she giggled, she moistened her middle finger with saliva, reached behind me and lubricated my asshole. Then she moistened her finger again and began slowly rubbing and penetrating, until at the precise moment that my sphincter relaxed, she slid her finger all the way in and began gently fucking my ass.

I instinctively moved my hips as if were a girl and my asshole a willing pussy, and when my thrusting matched the rhythm of Marsha's finger-fucking, with no hands, she gobbled my cock into her mouth and resumed her powerful sucking.

I was close to cumming and she probably sensed it, because she released my cock from her mouth, looked up at my face and asked if I wanted her naked.

"You must have read my mind," I said. "Yes, I want you naked. I want to see your tits and nipples, and I want to watch you play with your pussy... Were you playing with your pussy when you read my story? Your skirt was bunched up around your thighs. I got hard thinking that what I wrote made you masturbate."

"I did, Joe. I put my hand inside my panty hose and made my middle finger wet with the juice in my pussy hole, the same finger that I'm fucking your ass with now, and I rubbed and pinched my clit, probably just like your mother rubs and pinches her clit when you hear her masturbating at night."

I quivered when Marsha slid her probing prick of finger from my asshole.

She stood up and started taking off her clothes. Not a slow striptease. She must have known that she didn't have the body for that.

"Jerk off," she said. "I want to watch you play with that beautiful cock of yours while you watch me undress."

Her tits were floppy and her nipples looked like bellybuttons. But I liked the way she made them pop out by pinching and pulling them.

I also liked how she stroked her crotch from top to bottom, and then stretched her pussy open with the fingers of her left hand while using the middle finger of her right to draw the wetness from her hole to her clit.

What made my cock get super hard though was the sight of her half squatting with legs spread apart, ramming her finger in and out of her pussy hole while gritting her teeth and staring intensely into my eyes.

"Is that what you want to see your mother do?" she asked. "Finger-fuck her dark, hairy pussy like I'm finger-fucking my fuzzy blond one?"

When I nodded yes I noticed that I was rubbing my cock faster, unconsciously in sync with Marsha's increasing speed. But I didn't want to cum prematurely, so I decreased the friction by loosening my grip.

Marsha eyes were closed now and she was breathing heavier and more rapidly.

"What are you thinking," I asked.

"That your mother is here with us, and that she and I are on the rug licking each other's clit and finger-fucking each other's pussy, and that you're standing over us, your big cock in your hand, and that the head of your cock is glistening and wet, and you're playing with yourself, watching everything we do, and hearing every sound we make... Come to me, Joe. I want for us to eat each other."

I lay down on the floor with her above me straddling my face. She squatted down low as if she were going to shit. I spread her pussy open with my fingers. The lips were shiny and pink like peppermint candy, and her hole – dark and moist – smelled like a pot of narcissus.

I licked her pussy lips on each side and then started fucking her with my tongue. She put her finger on her clit and started rubbing, and sometimes she fingered her hole while my tongue was darting in and out.

Her bony finger made me think of a small cock. I imagined that she was getting fucked by a young boy at the same time that I was eating her out.

I told Marsha what I was fantasizing. She moaned and rubbed her clit faster. I put two fingers inside her, held them tightly together and gave her a good fucking. Her twat spontaneously opened wider. I added a third finger to help fill the space.

She began rising up and squatting back down on my erect fingers, not all the way, but in short, quick jerks that made her tits jiggle and heave. But she showed no sign of embarrassment, and I admired her for that and fell a little in love.

She gradually stopped before cumming, guided my fingers out of her pussy and lay on me in the 69 position. Holding my cock in her hand, she stroked it while mouthing the head. I licked her clit in circles and slowly teased it with unpredictable flicks of my tongue.

I could have come in an instant but I wanted to wait for Marsha, so I told her to go easy on my cock and to concentrate on fucking my face.

She lined her clit up perfectly with my mouth and began a slow, steady humping. I did my best to match her rhythm and to let her control the pressure on her clit by how hard she rubbed it against my tongue.

Soon her muscles tightened and her breathing changed from panting to a crescendo of pleading moans.

"Please suck me," I said.

Within seconds I felt as if I were being drawn into a whirlpool of velvet. Not just my cock but my entire body twitched till I grunted like a constipated ape and ejaculated what coming out felt like a tablespoon of jelly.

Marsha shook with such force that she bucked and simultaneously her pussy spurted a tart, sweet liquid into my mouth, a flavor shockingly similar to lemon meringue.

Shortly after Marsha left, Mom called to check up on me. I told her that the caterer had come early.

"What do you think?" Mom asked.

"You'll love her," I said. "She really knows her business and has the most incredible taste."