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“Mom?” Jennifer whined, rattling the bathroom doorknob again. “Is Jack in there with you? Who are you talking to?”
“Pull your pants up,” Mrs. C. hissed at me. “And don’t make a sound.” Turning toward the closed bathroom door, she said loudly, “Go wait for me in the living room. You have some explaining to do.”
“Mo-om!” Jennifer wailed. “What’s going on?”
“Just GO!” Mrs. C. ordered. Jennifer rattled the doorknob one last time and stomped away, as I hastily stuffed myself back into my shorts and straightened my shirt.
“Now go out there and wait with her,” Mrs. C. whispered. “We’re going to get some things settled here tonight, one way or another.”
My heart sank at that. The ordeal was clearly not yet over. On the other hand, I had just received my first ever blow-job, and from my girlfriend’s mom, no less, and that was something, right? My mind swirled with the images of Mrs. C’s lush lips closing around the head of my cock, and her moans as I spurted my hot load down her throat echoed in my ears. My knees were shaking so violently I could barely walk, but managed to carefully ease open the bathroom door and pad out into the living room, where Jennifer was slumped on the couch, a peevish look on her beautiful face.
“Where have you been? And what got my mom all wound up? Were you in the BATHROOM with her? What were you -“
I flung myself down onto the couch and smothered her complaints with a deep kiss. “Just remember I love you sooooo much,” I gasped when I came up for air.
“But what is that SMELL – ” I couldn’t come up with a plausible lie, and I wasn’t about to admit that it was the scent of her mother’s gushing pussy, so I took possession of her lush mouth again before she could ask any more awkward questions. I probed her mouth deeply with my tongue until she moaned and rubbed her small hard breasts against me, her hands clasped firmly behind my neck.
“NOW WHAT HAVE WE HERE?” Mrs. C. snarled, leaning over us, hands on her shapely hips. She had thrown on a thick terry-cloth robe and looked much larger and fiercer than she had appeared while seated on the toilet with my spurting cock in her mouth. I felt a flush of intimidation, but in spite of that my dick twitched and began to straighten.
Jennifer let go of my neck and her hands pushed weakly against my chest. “We were KISSING, MOM, and there’s nothing wrong with it. We’re over 18, and we love each other, and most people our age are doing a lot more than that.”
“You don’t have the slightest idea what you are doing,” Mrs. C. said in a withering tone of voice. “You’re taking steps down a path that you know nothing about – “
“And whose fault is that?” Jennifer’s face was turning red and I knew we were in for a first-class hissy-fit. “That crappy little religious school we are FORCED to go to doesn’t exactly have SEX EDUCATION classes! And if you ask questions they LIE -“
Mrs. C. crossed her arms under her full breasts, thrusting them upward until I could see the creamy top of one peeping out above the lapel of her fuzzy robe. I remembered the feel of them in my trembling hands, and couldn’t help mentally comparing the feel of Jennifer’s hard little 18-year-old knobs. I flushed, suddenly realizing that I was truly a pervert. But my stiffening cock clearly had no conscience whatsoever.
“I understand that ‘crappy little religious school’,” Mrs. C. retorted, “does not offer sex education. It also does not offer a number of other things. Such as mass murders, kidnappings, rape, and Lord knows what else. Public schools are dens of iniquity and perversion. As I have told you repeatedly. And if I am required to work many hours of overtime, kissing that old pervert’s ASS, if not other things -” I could casino siteleri have sworn that she looked straight into my eyes and winked! “to pay your private school tuition then you can just go there and be glad you have a mother that would rather see you alive…you know you’re getting a good education in everything that matters -“
“You don’t think SEX matters?” Jennifer screeched.
“Of course it does,” Mrs. C. said. “But it is one of those things that is best taught at home.”
“You never tell me anything.”
“Don’t try to turn this back on me, Missy!” Mrs C. snapped. “I’ve been talking to Jack and it appears that you two are trying to teach each other.”
Jennifer glanced at me, murder in her eyes. I shook my head minimally. “Watch out!” I tried to tell her with my eyes.
“We haven’t done anything but kiss,” Jennifer said sulkily.
Mrs. C. sighed theatrically. “I’m going to give you one chance to tell me the truth. And believe me, if you lie you will never see this boy again. So: isn’t it true that he has actually had intercourse with you?”
“NO-wa,” Jennifer wailed. “We NEVER, uh, did it -“
“But you let him put his finger into you, didn’t you?”
“Oh my GOD! Mom! That’s so gross…it was only one time, and we were both sorry, we almost broke up -“
“That’s sex.” Mrs. C. glared at us. “Part of him was IN you. And when he puts his tongue in your mouth? That’s sex too. And all that is Lesson One.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this discussion,” Jennifer said, rolling her eyes. “Mom, it’s too LATE. I’m a woman already. Are you seriously trying to tell me that I could get pregnant from what we have been doing?”
“I’m telling you exactly that,” Mrs. C. said more gently. She motioned for me to make space on the couch and she seated herself between us. Jennifer turned away from her and curled her legs up so that her chin rested on her knees. I just enjoyed the feeling of Mrs. C’s thigh pressing against mine, separated only by her fuzzy robe. “And I’ll tell you why. That’s Lesson 2.”
Jennifer sniffed, somewhat rudely, I thought. Mrs. C. placed one hand on Jennifer’s shoulder and the other on my thigh.
“You see,” Mrs. C. continued, “When you let a man go too far, you start him down a path that can only have one end. And if you’re the one to start him, you should be the one to finish him. Or you may be surprised to find yourself suddenly flat on your back with a baby sprouting in your womb. Do you know what I mean?” She stroked my thigh, her fingers coming dangerously close to my balls.
Jennifer had buried her face in her hands, and I could see a brilliant red flush spreading from her hairline outwards. “This is SO not cool,” she moaned.
“It’s girls who can’t talk about it that get in trouble,” Mrs. C. said primly. One of her perfectly manicured fingernails scratched tentatively at my right nut. I shuddered.
Jennifer gagged derisively. “I KNOW how babies are made, OK? And we don’t DO that. So can we end this discussion NOW?”
“No,” said Mrs. C. Her scratchy fingernail wandered past my sack and started to trace the outline of my erection. I suddenly wondered if she was actually the religious fanatic Jennifer believed her to be.
“I believe that you haven’t actually let him fuck you with his cock,” she said matter-of-factly. Jennifer gasped. I suspected that she had never heard her mother use these words before. “But you did let him get his finger into you, although you claim you did not want that to happen. Still, it happened. And if you don’t learn to relieve the pressure before he boils over, the next surprise will be when his dick accidentally goes into you. And if you think you can trust him to pull out before he fills slot oyna you up you’re even more ignorant than I think.”
“What pressure?” Jennifer asked, suddenly interested in spite of herself.
“Think of him like a pressure-cooker,” Mrs. C. said, as she stroked my straining cock through my shorts. “And yourself as well, to some degree. But especially for him. As you turn up the heat,” she smiled wryly, “the pressure builds. And the only way to relieve it is through the tip of his…manhood.” She scratched playfully around the head of my cock and I stifled a moan.
Jennifer covered her blushing face with her hands again and moaned too. “Don’t say ‘manhood,'” she mumbled.
“Fine. His COCK then. You have to get him off somehow, or he will either be in extreme pain or, assuming he is too polite to rape you, have to resort to self-abuse. Which is a mortal sin. And could possibly lead to blindness.” She winked at me lasciviously and tweaked at the head of my prick.
Mrs. C. was a whole lot cooler than I had imagined.
“So how do you suggest that I do that,” Jennifer mumbled sullenly.
Mrs. C. stood up suddenly. My cock sadly missed her stroking hand. “For now, I suggest that you do the homework for Lesson 3. Go and get your favorite body lotion, and rub it on his cock. Not just a little. Make it nice and slippery. And don’t stop rubbing. Until something happens. You’ll know when you’ve been successful.” She turned toward her bedroom, pausing to look back over her shoulder at us. “And we’ll discuss this tomorrow evening, shall we?”
As the bedroom door clicked closed behind Mrs. C., Jennifer hissed at me, “Is she serious?”
I shrugged, fully aware of my throbbing cock. “She’s your Mom. But, yeah; I think she is serious.”
“Unbelievable,” Jennifer muttered, rising from the couch. Moments later she returned from her bathroom holding a plastic bottle of lotion. I already had my stiff cock out and waiting for her.
“So romantic,” Jennifer snipped. “Aren’t you even going to kiss me first?” She slithered into my arms and I kissed her fervently, fully aware of her bare midriff against my hot erection. She slipped one slender hand between us and grasped me firmly. “Why does it have to get so big?” she moaned into my mouth. “This thing would tear me apart.” She stroked me inexpertly for a few moments. I felt her smiling as she said, “Is the pressure off yet?”
“Not hardly,” I said against her lips. “You should listen to your mother more.”
“Oh pooh,” Jennifer pouted, breaking our kiss and reaching for the lotion bottle. “She thinks she knows everything. But she couldn’t even hold onto a man herself. My father took off before I was even born.”
“Maybe she didn’t know how to relieve the pressure,” I said, stifling a crazy giggle.
“You pervert,” Jennifer giggled, squeezing a cold dollop of lotion onto my straining dick. She began smoothing it onto me, which was nice but not what I needed.
“Wrap your hand around it,” I urged. “And stroke up and down.” She followed my instructions hesitantly, and my cock responded gratefully.
“Yesssss…” I moaned. “Just like that. Faster.” Her tiny hand could not completely span my girth, and I wondered if she would be able to make me come for the fourth time that evening. “Just don’t stop,” I whispered. “Just…don’t stop.” I nuzzled at her breast, found a nipple, and nipped it lightly with my teeth. I slipped a hand under her skirt and stroked her panty-covered mound. She squirmed when I located her clit. I couldn’t help comparing it in my mind to her mother’s much lustier unit. It had stuck out so far after a couple of licks that I could actually suck it like a tiny cock. And she had seemed to enjoy it immensely…I licked canlı casino siteleri my lips and tasted traces of her pungent juice.
“This just feels so NASTY,” Jennifer moaned. “It’s like something big is about to happen, like an earthquake or something, but I don’t know…maybe we’re not ready for this…I’m getting cramps in my hand…OH!”
At that moment I jetted my hot load into her hand.
“Now the pressure is relieved,” I groaned, as she milked the last of my already depleted store of spunk out of me. I berated myself for not being more excited about having come in my innocent girlfriend’s inexperienced hand, but I could not help a mental flashback of erupting into her mom’s hot mouth. I pulled her against me and kissed her deeply. She held her hand, dripping with my spent load, up in front of my face. “This is the pressure?” she asked, smiling.
“Yeah,” I gasped. “That’s what your mother was talking about. And thanks. You saved me from committing a mortal sin.”
Jennifer giggled and burrowed her face into my neck. She held out her come-laden hand. “What do I do with this?”
“Rub it into your breasts,” I said, improvising. What else would she do with it? I usually just washed it down the sink drain. “It’s supposed to make them bigger.”
“You want them bigger?” Jennifer pouted, nonetheless slipping her hand into her blouse and massaging her small breast. “I thought you liked them just the way they are.”
“I do,” I said stoutly. “But since you’re always complaining about how small they are; I mean, anything to help out…”
“You pig,” Jennifer giggled. “I think you just like the idea of me smearing your stuff on my boobies.”
“Also true,” I said solemnly. “And with that admission, I should probably be getting home -“
“Mom mentioned that I’m a pressure-cooker too,” Jennifer murmured into my neck, “and I guess I ought to mention that I feel like I’m about to explode too, right now.”
“That’s probably Lesson Four,” I said uneasily. I had a feeling that whatever we did, Mrs. C. would hear about sooner or later. And that might make it less likely for me to get into her pants again. I am SUCH a perv.
“I’m in pain,” Jennifer whimpered. “You caused it; it’s your responsibility to fix it.”
She was right, of course. I kissed her, pulling aside her damp panties and running my fingers through her tangled pubic hair. She gasped as I dipped my middle fingertip into her hot snatch and spread the moisture upward onto her tiny clit. “Oh God Oh God Oh God,” she babbled, muffling her cries against my mouth. “That’s it that’s the place OH GOD why didn’t you ever tell me it’s so nice OH GAWWWWWD!”
I’m pretty sure she came. Her pussy got really wet and I took advantage of that to slide my finger into her, almost up to the second knuckle, before she squirmed uncomfortably and tugged at my wrist.
“Pressure relieved,” she giggled, after a pause to catch her breath. “And according to MOM, we just had sex. Again.” She pulled my hand out from under her skirt and held it up, my middle finger still glistening with her wetness. “So what do you do with this?”
“I try not to wash my hand until next time,” I said, perhaps a little too honestly. She looked at me inquisitively. “So I can smell you whenever I want,” I explained.
“That is so GROSS!” Jennifer squealed, covering her face with her hands.
“You know,” I whispered, “What I really want is to have that smell all over my cock, because that means…”
“You’re right,” Jennifer said decisively, pushing away from me. “It’s time you were getting home. Because, to tell you the truth, the pressure is rising again. OK?”
“I get it,” I said, standing up and extending a hand to her. Which was somewhat awkward because I was again afflicted with a painful erection, which I somehow wanted to conceal. “We should both rest up. Because tomorrow might be Lesson Four…”
“You WISH,” Jennifer murmured as I kissed her goodnight.
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