The Orgasms In This House

He knew someone was watching when he heard her gasp. He opened his eyes to see Denise Fuller, his best friend's mother, staring with her hand covering her mouth. His hand stopped moving on his hard cock. They made eye contact, and he froze in terror.

"I--" she began, her eyes returning to his cock. Then she turned and left the room without another word. He felt panic spread through him as he yanked up his underwear and tried to figure out what to do.

It was the summer of 1989, two weeks after Adam's high school graduation. He had moved in with his best friend Kevin's family after his dad was hired by a firm in Albuquerque. Kevin and he had already been accepted into Madison the next fall, and he had a job at the grocery store. It made no sense for him to move to New Mexico only to return a few months later. He helped his folks pack, waved as they pulled away, and then climbed into the station wagon with Mrs. Fuller.

There were four members of Kevin's family. His older sister Angie was at school in Chicago but made frequent visits home for the weekend. His father Dwayne was a quiet, generous man who worked long hours as an insurance adjustor. His mother Denise was a homemaker, about to send another child off to college. When she heard of Adam's predicament, she immediately offered to put him up for the summer in the spare bedroom in the basement. Adam's parents were wary at first, but he had been friends with Kevin for years. They knew the Fullers well. As for Mrs. Fuller, he thought she saw the summer as a last chance to glory in running the household. He only added to her happiness. She was a stunning host, cooking hearty dinners and keeping them all active with field trips and holidays. She had refined hospitality far beyond anything his mother ever achieved.

Mrs. Fuller was lithe and athletic, with sandy blonde hair and tan skin. Her cheeks took on a light dusting of freckles in the summer sun. She maintained her figure through punishing exercise, and her arms and calves were strong. But her hips were soft and voluptuous, with a mature substance. Her breasts were large and firm.

They spent many summer afternoons out by the pool in the immaculate backyard, drinking lemonade and eating sandwiches. One Saturday when Angie was home from school in Chicago, she swam in a bikini, and her pert nipples and shapely ass made him swoon with lust. She had nothing but disdain for Kevin, and Adam was scorned by association. Still, he felt that she had to appreciate the lust between them, that she might succumb if ever she could feel it.

But mostly, he admired Denise, as she insisted he call her. She was so unmotherly in a swimsuit, with a curving sensuality where Angie was stiff. She also had a playful sense of humor and took a genuine interest in his opinion of things.

Then, just as he was settling into his new home, Kevin and Dwayne left for a long-planned fishing trip to Montana. They had made the trip every year since Kevin was 12, though this time they were taking an extra week. They had invited Adam out of courtesy, but he knew the trip marked the end of something, that it would be better not to intrude. That Saturday, Denise and he had dinner alone together for the first time. They discussed families in the neighborhood and movies and history and religion. He couldn't believe they were going to be alone together for two weeks.

The night she caught him, he had worked a busy shift at the grocery store on a hot summer afternoon. He returned home in time for dinner, but they talked less than usual. After the news, he excused himself to take a shower. There was a bathroom in the basement, so it was easy to shower downstairs and walk in a towel back to his room. The bedroom was a shoe box, but it got decent light and stayed cool on hot days. The problem was that it had only a curtain for a door.

After the shower, he walked into his room, dropped his towel, and took his hard dick in his hand, working his fingers over the head. It had been a frustrating afternoon, and he hadn't made himself come in days. He laid down on the bed and closed his eyes, remembering Angie's swollen nipples straining against the fabric of her swimsuit. He wanted to rub his palms all over her breasts, to grab her taut ass cheeks and pull her groin into him. He wanted to whisper into her ear, "You have to let me fuck you. I need it so bad."

Then the gasp. Denise had slipped into the room while his eyes were closed, silently through the curtain. She must have been on some errand and never suspected that he might be touching himself in her house. When she scrambled back up the stairs, he didn't know how he could bear to go upstairs and face her. But he decided it would be better to be done with it than live with the horrendous possibilities conjured by his conscience.

When he reached the top of the stairs, she was sitting composed at the kitchen table. "Adam," she said calmly, "can we talk?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and sank into a chair across from her.

"Don't call me ma'am. Adam, will you look at me?" He raised his eyes to hers and saw that she was not angry.

"Adam, I want to apologize. I had no right to walk into your room like that, and I'm sorry I violated your privacy. I hope I didn't embarrass you."

"You mean you're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" she asked. "Adam, you have nothing to be ashamed about."

"So you don't think it's wrong?"

"Adam, everyone masturbates. It's a natural part of being an adult."

"It is?" he asked.

"I do it."

His ears burned, and he could not return his eyes to hers. "You do?"

"My husband will be gone for two weeks. You think I can go that long without an orgasm? No thank you."

He trembled with excitement, and his cock was pressing against the fabric of his jeans. "That does make me feel better."

"Good," she replied. "I don't want you to feel any shame about the orgasms in this house, especially while it's just the two of us. I trust you, Adam, and I want you to trust me. It's the summer, and we should enjoy ourselves."

"That sounds great," he said, overwhelmed.

"Did you finish?" she asked, and he was stunned into silence. She winked and left to do the grocery shopping. He came in a huge spray of seed in the downstairs bathroom, a film of Denise Fuller with her hand stuffed down her panties playing in his head.

* * *

The next day was Tuesday, and he had the day off. He slept in after all the excitement from yesterday and didn't get up until he heard Denise out in the laundry room. The other disadvantage of staying in the basement was that the utility room was just outside. But it was already well into the morning, and time for him to rise.

When he stepped through the curtain, he stopped in amazement. Denise was facing away, sorting clothes for the washer, wearing only a pink negligee. Her arms and legs were bare, the skin tan and healthy from their time at the pool. The negligee was short, ending at the top of her thighs. He stood and stared, admiring the shape of her ass under the pink fabric. He averted his eyes when she opened the dryer and reached for the basket of clothes in the chair. Still facing away from him, she bent over to grab wet clothes from the basket. He was enraptured as her negligee rode up her thighs, higher and higher, until it exposed the sweet curves of her firm ass. Her cheeks were covered by lavender lace briefs, and as she bent further, he could make out the edge of her mound. His cock had hardened painfully inside his pajama pants.

She threw in the last of the clothes and slapped the door shut, turning around and jumping when she saw him. "You scared me," she declared.

"Sorry," he replied, standing with a tent in his pants.

She pretended not to see his hard-on for a moment, and then it was like some decision settled over her. She let her eyes drift down to it for a moment and looked up at him with a shy smile.

"You really do have a great penis, you know that?"

"What?"

"I just thought you might like to know," she said. Now that she was facing him, he could see she was not wearing a bra under the negligee. Her breasts were full but firm, her nipples pressing into the fabric. "I know you haven't had many girlfriends, and young girls are ignorant anyway. Take it from a woman who knows: You've got a big, beautiful penis. It's well proportioned, long and thick. Girls are going to like it."

He was so flushed he didn't know what to do, and his cock was harder than ever. "Come on," she said, grabbing a basket of dry clothes. "Will you come upstairs and help me fold these? Unless you need some time alone?"

"I can help," he said defensively. He followed her, at just the right angle to see her lovely ass cheeks move up the stairs. In the living room, she set the basket on the floor and gestured for him to sit beside it on the carpet. He settled into place as she dumped the basket and sat on the sofa, leaning forward to sort through the clothes. With him on the floor and her leaning forward, he could see between her legs all the way to the gusset of her lavender panties. She was completely exposed and didn't seem to mind. He could see the little curls coming out from under the edges of her panties, the dark blonde hair. Her mound pressed against the fabric. Under that flimsy piece of cloth, her pussy waited.

"It's not fair for you," she said, glancing at his groin. "We can see when you're excited, but you have no way of knowing about us." She looked down at herself. "Can you tell my nipples are hard?"

He stared into her eyes, too nervous to look at her chest. "Not really."

"Women also get wet," she said, spreading her legs a bit more. His gaze flashed back to her lavender panties. "Sometimes I get so wet I soak right through my panties. And sometimes you can smell a woman who gets really aroused. Her pussy gives off a scent that calls out for a man to make love to her. Have you ever smelled a woman's scent?"

"No," he said. "But I really want to."

Denise looked around the living room, with the curtains drawn and the air conditioner running gently in the background, as if checking to be sure no one was listening in on them.

"All right," she said, "in the name of your education, I'm going to help you. But you can never tell anyone about this. If I do something nice for you, can you promise not to tell anyone?"

"I'll never tell."

"Good." She reached up under her negligee and eased her panties down her thighs. She was careful to keep the hem of her negligee down, so he couldn't see her naked pussy as she worked her feet through her underwear. She picked her panties up and threw them at him. He snatched them without thinking and immediately felt the wet groin in his hand. They were still warm from her body.

"Can you smell my wet pussy?" she asked.

He brought her panties to his nose and inhaled, delirious with her scent. He breathed into her panties and drew the sweet musk of her pussy back into him. His cock strained against his pants, desperate for release.

"You smell so good."

"I better get out of here," she said, almost in a panic. She rushed to the door, pulling the hem of her negligee down over her ass. "I really need to make myself come."

She disappeared into the hall, and he heard her tread heavily up the stairs. He wondered whether he was supposed to follow her, but it didn't seem that she had invited him. And he had her musky panties in his hand. He raised them to his nose and breathed in the wet ambrosia of her cunt, the thousand voices of her pleasure. He pulled his heavy dick out of his pants and stroked it furiously with her underwear pressed against his lips. He thought he heard her call in the distance, and then her scent drove him to an orgasm that made him collapse and spray come all over the wall.

* * *

He waited an hour and then climbed the stairs. Denise had showered and was dressed in capris and a cotton blouse. She blushed when she saw him but went on cutting up vegetables for a salad. "I feel much better," she said.

"Me too."

She smiled playfully. "Thanks for the inspiration."

"Thanks for the panties," he said, his ears burning. He held them out for her. "You smell so good."

She blushed and looked down at the vegetables. "I'm glad you think so."

Lunch and the afternoon were relaxed between them, even as he marveled at what they had done. He did not feel ashamed, as he often did after he made himself come. He felt that he had come with her, with her pussy on his lips. And that gave him joy.

That night, he went out with friends to see a movie because Denise had friends over for cards. He got home later than he had planned, and Denise was already in her room. He went to the basement to read before bed. In the morning, he got up and stepped into the kitchen, surprised that the morning was already half gone, as he had to work in the late afternoon. Denise was standing by the counter stirring a pitcher of lemonade. She saw him and smiled.

"It's going to be a hot one today," she said. "I made us up some lemonade if you want to join me."

"Sure," he replied, looking out on the bright blue day. "Just let me get my trunks."

"Are you wearing underwear?"

"Of course," he said.

"Then that's enough. That's all I'm going to wear."

He followed her out onto the patio. Locusts were singing in the distance, and the spruce trees swayed with warm breeze. Denise worked long afternoons in her gardens, and she had just refinished the tall wooden fence. It was paradise.

She set the tray down and looked at him. "The truth is that I need a bikini," she said, unbuttoning her blouse. "I want to get as much sun as I can while everyone else is away." She opened her shirt and exposed a red lace bra. He could see a flash of pinkish-brown where a nipple pushed against the lace. She pulled the drawstring on her pants and let them fall to the concrete. She was wearing matching red panties that hugged the curves of her hips.

"This is the same as a bikini," she said, "but I can't really wear it when Angie is here."

He nodded mutely and pulled off his shirt, delighting in the breeze on his chest hair. He unbuttoned his jeans and peeled them over his feet. He was wearing full boxers, so he wasn't exposed even as much as if he had been in swim trunks. But he could already feel his cock pressing against his boxers.

"This sunshine is bright," she declared, settling onto her stomach on one of the deck chairs. She flicked her hair out of her face and brought her arms up under her chin. He stared at her from her feet, along the curving delight of her calves and thighs, to the gusset of her panties. A few stray curls of dark blonde pubic hair had escaped the lace edge.

"Would you mind getting my back with suntan lotion?" she asked, turning to the table for her sunglasses. He looked away, wondering whether she had seen him watching her.

"Sure," he said, walking to the table beside her. The pool cast silvery reflections along the wall. The sun was high overhead and painfully bright. He picked up the bottle of lotion and shook it, looking at the curves of her back, at her bra pushed into the deck chair. The lotion was warm when he sprayed it out onto his palms, rubbing them together as he settled onto his knees beside her. He leaned forward and smeared the lotion onto her shoulders.

"Oh, that's nice," she said. Then she frowned. "You better not get it on this bra though. Let me take it off."

His heart started pounding as she reached back to unclasp the strap. She pulled it forward and then flung it aside, settling back into her arms. He could see the pale skin of her breast where it pressed against the chair. He wanted to see the dark pink nipple on top.

Instead, he pushed his hands into the goopy suntan lotion and rubbed it into her back. He moved in slow circles, rubbing the muscles as he worked the lotion into her skin. She moaned when he worked her left shoulder blade. "Oh, that feel so good. It's been sore."

He gave it extra attention, pausing only to spray more suntan lotion onto his hands. He worked her lower back, careful not to get too close to her panties, and then drew his hands back up along her back, around the very edges of her breasts. He made the circle again and became bolder, rubbing the outer curve of her breasts. If she lifted just an inch or two, he could slide his hands around to her nipples, caressing them with lotion.

"Will you do my legs?" she asked, never rousing.

He came to his feet unsteadily, his cock straining against his boxers. He walked to the end of the deck chair and kneeled facing her calves. His eyes moved along her legs to the gusset of her panties. He gasped when he saw a spot of moisture between her legs, a dark line along the lips of her pussy.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, lifting her head to peer back at him.

"No, no," he said. He stared at the wet spot on her panties as he squirted more lotion out onto his hands. He began to work the lotion into her calves, into the thick muscles. She groaned. He sprayed more lotion onto his hands and spread it onto her thighs. He rubbed higher and higher, no longer taking his time. He shuffled forward and wrapped his hands around her thighs. He worked the muscles while his eyes remained locked on the wet spot between her legs. He reached the top of her thighs, just an inch away from her panties. He thought he felt heat coming from her pussy.

"Don't miss any spots," she said, reaching back with her hands. She slipped her fingers under the edge of her panties and pulled them tight against her ass cheeks. The movement pressed the gusset into her pussy, and the wet spot spread through more fabric. He swallowed hard and placed his hands on her thighs. He pushed forward and slid his fingertips over the curves of her ass, grasping the velvety flesh. Her pussy was only an inch from his fingertips. He leaned in over her and brought his hands up and around her cheeks, breathing in deeply. He could smell her pussy and it made his heart thunder.

He struggled with a desperate urge to grab her panties and rip them down her legs. He could hardly breathe. He removed his hands, his penis aching. "I think I have to go to the bathroom."

"What?" She sat up and turned around, her fingers covering her breasts. She stared at his cock tenting in his boxers, only inches away. "Adam, I told you not to feel shame about being a man in this house. Do you need to have an orgasm?"

"I don't know what to do," he said. "I'm so horny I could die."

"What is it?" she asked.

"I can see your pussy's wet. I can smell how turned on you are."

"Adam, I can't believe you're talking to me this way," she said. "Do you know how many times you've made me come already? I can't stop touching my pussy. I haven't stopped since I saw you tugging on that beautiful cock. You have to let me see it again."

"Will you give me your panties?"

"Yes."

He pulled the boxers down his legs, avoiding her eyes as his cock slapped against his belly. He cast the boxers aside.

"Adam, I've been selfish," she said, dropping her hands from her breasts. He stared at her swollen pink-brown nipples, at the heft and curve of her breasts. "Have you ever seen a woman's pussy?"

"No."

"Do you want to see mine?"

"More than anything in the world."

She stood up, her breasts swaying with her movement. "Then lay down, facing this way," she said, gesturing to the deck chair.

He spun down and lay back, staring at the searing blue sky. He looked over at Denise, who had begun to tug her panties down her hips. As they traveled down her thighs, he saw the dark blonde tuft between her legs. She took the panties and threw them against the wall.

"You said I could have them," he said.

"Oh, Adam." She lifted her leg and threw it over the other side of the chair, swinging her pussy over his face. He stared up at her soft pussy lips, pearly with come and pressed together off to one side. Her pubic hair rose in soft concentric curls above the rosy lips. "Do you see what you've done to me?" she gasped.