Page 01
Horny 19-year-old is seduced by his parent's best friends during a summer stayover.
Author's note -- this story contains scenes of homosexual activity.
Portions of this story have been inspired by the author's previous works, including Morning Sex with Mom, and the Tits Are for Sucking series.
My parents left town for a few weeks on a combination business trip and vacation, leaving me, their only son, behind due to my school obligations. I was doing poorly in math, so had to attend summer school to catch up in preparation for my first year at community college. Dad worked for a large office supply manufacturing firm and traveled frequently. As he had done for many years, he took advantage of a generous expense account which allowed my mother to accompany him once or twice per year to a destination selected by the corporation. His job was to find and develop new sales territories, and he was good at what he did.
Normally, I got to tag along, which I loved. Mom felt the same way about these trips. Getting us out of the house and our routine -- her with her domestic chores, club meetings and lunches with friends and me with my school -- effectively broke up the daily monotony. Although some of the travel destinations included Asswipe, North Dakota, or Inbred Holler, West Virginia, we didn't mind, as long as we could experience something new and different.
This time, I stayed behind and concentrated on my studies, but not at home. At least to their sensibilities, I was not of a responsible age yet, so they sent me to stay under the careful watch of their best friends - John and his wife Rosemary.
John was a successful writer of both fiction and non-fiction books, and some of his publications had made it to the New York Times Best Seller list. That and some wise investments in the burgeoning personal computer industry resulted in a comfortable lifestyle for him and his wife. John divided his time between burrowing away in his writing den, door closed, clacking away at his pale blue IBM Selectric, enjoying the fruits of his labor by traveling with Rosemary, or just relaxing with her at home.
A friendly, nurturing woman with a big, toothy smile, Rosemary was a few years younger than her husband, a hippie homebody who dabbled in New Age spirituality mixed with good, old-fashioned homespun wisdom. An excellent cook, she also enjoyed working in her garden during the season, maintaining a household, and painting abstracts in her sunny studio.
John and Rosemary were like a second set of parents to me, I having known them all my life, although they had recently begun treating me more like an adult than a shy high school kid. Yes, I had just turned nineteen and hoped that, before long, my real parents might deem me mature enough to take care of myself. John and Rosemary were ahead of the curve, but we were still not quite free from that grey area where they still called me things like "kid" and "boy" -- like I was a child -- and Rosemary drove me to summer school every day in her brilliant, yellow Beetle, like a doting mother. Having no choice in the matter but to stay with them during my parents' trip, I appreciated the change of scenery, and made the best of my situation.
There was another reason I didn't mind the stayover. Honestly, for the past few months, my wandering mind and roiling young sexuality were taking me to a place I thought I'd never be. To my surprise, I'd been harboring a burgeoning lust for Rosemary -- hell, I was hot for both of them. Rosemary was like an alluring, younger aunt, with a lithe body and small breasts. I never knew her age, but she looked to be thirty or thirty-five, tops. She never struck me as a beauty queen or seductress, but her pale, freckled skin was smooth and pretty, her body a pleasant combination of boyish and feminine, as natural and unapologetic as her personality. I noticed her blood-red hair had sprouted a few strands of grey, just like my mother.
John had always sported an impressive physique and I found myself glancing at him more and more as I matured. During most of my stay, he went shirtless, wearing only his shorts, much to my delight. It was obvious that he worked out regularly and jogged, as was the vogue in the late nineteen-seventies. When not admiring Rosemary, I spent many hours surreptitiously eyeing John's firm, radiant body.
John and Rosemary owned a beautiful, modern home in one of the town's well-established, middle-class suburbs. The low, ranch-style structure was mostly canopied by large, old-growth shade trees. Thick foliage surrounded the house, filtering out external noises and providing a certain degree of privacy from neighbors.
The back yard contained a modest swimming pool next to a partially-enclosed patio which, in turn, was attached to the rear of the house. A decoratively-bricked area containing lawn furniture filled the gap between the patio and pool. At the edge of the patio was a hot tub just large enough for two or three people. Since these were the dog days of summer, we spent a lot of time by the pool's glittering, blue water.
When not engrossed in other projects, Rosemary could be found stretched out on a long, plastic lawn chair, lounging in the dappled sunlight in a skimpy, two-piece bathing suit. A more powerfully-built woman would've made the suit obscene, but Rosemary still managed to make it look demure.
Her body always glistened with suntan lotion, and I longed for the chance to refresh that sheen, but she always asked her husband to take care of her back. The other parts of her body she tended to herself. As a Bach Invention wafted down on us from the external speakers mounted in the patio area, I watched with great care as she dutifully applied the lotion. She'd start with her face, shoulders and arms, working down to her chest and stomach, then to her thighs and legs, finishing up with her feet.
Day after scorching day, watching the two of them go about their business, my libido started to do its work. I had already surrendered to masturbating frequently, filling my head with all sorts of naughty encounters. Now, these encounters included Rosemary's limber body and John's taut, solid form. Initially, I fought these desires, feeling shame for thinking of them in that way. They were almost my parents, for Christ's sake!
At night, I writhed bare-assed on the bed in their guest room, beating my pole into milky submission. It took a little time for me to think of these two parent-like figures sexually, but soon, I learned to submit to my newfound desires, to relax and enjoy the ride. Now they were front and center during my Onanic sojourns.
During my nocturnal masturbatory fantasies, I happened upon a pleasant discovery. In spite of the size of John and Rosemary's mid-century home, my bedroom and theirs shared an interior wall, a barrier that was not totally soundproof. Was it a minor shortcoming on the part of the original architect, perhaps, who had done such a thorough and tasteful job on the house overall? Should the wall have been more solid and sound absorbing? Probably, but I soon came to appreciate this constructional oversight.
Hence, I would often hear sounds from their bedroom -- doors closing, drawers opening and shutting, water running in their bathroom, plus the ambling cadence of John's low voice -- seeping through the wallpaper, enflaming my curiosity.
In the wee hours, I would awake to other sounds -- persistent and rhythmic -- from the other side. Holding as still as possible, I would press my ear against the wall behind my bed and listen intently. One night, after an eternity of tedious monitoring, I could make out a voice. It was Rosemary's. As I continued to listen, I could tell she was obviously exited, spilling out a stream of words I could not make out.
The rhythmic sounds emanating from their room became a dull banging. It would be barely noticeable if my ear wasn't glued to the wallpaper. Motionless, I closed my eyes in the near-darkness, keeping my breaths shallow and slow as I tried to keep other noises from interfering with my aural voyeurism. John's voice chimed in with Rosemary's. To my delight, I could understand his words - the words of an aggressive lover.
"Yeah, honey...take it...take it," he said. "Horny slut, I'm going to punish your pussy."
My eyes opened wide. No doubt there was some fucking going on! Jesus, I thought, I shouldn't be listening to this, but screw it. I couldn't pass up this opportunity. My penis swelled.
Rosemary responded, but again, I couldn't make out specific words. John continued, his voice mixing with the rhythmic thumping. With demeaning words and tone, he instructed his wife on what to do.
"That's it, you bitch, that's it...right there. Get that ass up. What a wet pussy you have!"
More agitated noises came from Rosemary as all of my senses focused on the encounter happening only a foot or two away.
"Goddammit," John growled. "Fucking whore. Take my seed. Take it...now!"
Christ, he was giving her a good workout! In spite of John's tone, I didn't sense that Rosemary was being hurt or forced in this encounter. The sounds I heard indicated a woman getting a good, thorough fucking. The banging ramped up until I heard what sounded like stifled screams from Rosemary. My cock by now was straining against my shorts. I reached down, tugging at the elastic waistband to let it out. Once it bobbed free, I wrapped my hand around it and began to squeeze and pull.
"Ohhh, Goddamn! Fuck...fuck!" John cursed as I listened, stroking my cock, imagining him crushing out his orgasm inside his wife's body. It didn't take long for me to feel the approach of my own climax.
"That's it, John," I whispered to myself, "Fuck the shit out of her. Come inside her and let me watch." I envisioned their naked bodies pounding furiously, glistening with sweat, John's cock wet with his wife's juices. I wanted to be part of it! At that moment, a delicious surge flashed through my loins. My mouth fell open as I fought to keep still, my young seed squirting out, making a mess on my shorts and the pillows.
"Damn," I hissed between clenched teeth as the orgasm persisted. I milked the sensation for another minute, savoring it as the climax subsided. Taking care not to make a sound, I grabbed a few Kleenex from the nightstand and tried to clean up the goo as best I could.
Everything fell silent for the rest of the night. I slipped into a pleasant sleep with the blankets pulled up around my chin. Listening to John and Rosemary fuck had enflamed my already-active imagination. The rest of the night was filled with dreams of their nude bodies in full view of my gaze, and of their hands caressing me, and my own nakedness.
Skin touched skin as I suckled Rosemary's small, sweet breasts. John held me from behind while his wife nursed, and I writhed with sensual joy between them.
The last dream I could remember ended with a shuddering climax as I came for my new lovers. I awoke with the morning sun, horny and needing attention, but all I could do is once again beat my cock to a milky finish before hopping out of bed. Thank God for those Kleenex tissues!
"Good morning, honey." Rosemary greeted me as I sleepily trudged into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Rosie." I called her by her nickname. Clad in shorts and tee-shirt, I slid up on a barstool on the other side of the kitchen counter. My erection hadn't yet subsided, so I welcomed the distance between us. I took note of her unusually skimpy attire. Normally, Rosemary wore a bathrobe, which managed to conceal most of her body. This particular morning, she was clad in nothing but a thin, snug man's undershirt and red panties, items I'd never seen her wear before. Well, it was the middle of summer, and the nights didn't cool down very much. Maybe she was too warm in her usual thick robe?
Rosemary stood at the stovetop, pushing several slices of bacon around in a cast iron skillet. "Did you sleep well?" She asked. I eyed her body as she moved. I could easily see her thick, erect nipples through the fabric. Again, it wasn't as if her naked body was alien to me. Those minimal swimsuits she wore gave me a pretty good idea of what lie underneath.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied. I certainly wasn't going to mention being awakened by their nocturnal lovemaking.
"Hmmm..." she grinned, removing the sizzling strips of bacon from the skillet and placing them on a plate lined with a folded paper towel. "You must be a sound sleeper."
I took pause. What the fuck is she saying? I didn't know how to respond, but did anyway.
"My bed's very comfortable," I replied, "and the neighborhood is so quiet."
"Yes." Rosemary cracked open several brown-shelled eggs into a small bowl, added salt, pepper and a dollop of milk, then briskly swirled the mixture with a fork. "All the bushes and trees surrounding the house absorb what noise there is. That's another reason why we love this place. Want some coffee?"
"Yes, please." Our eyes met briefly, making my loins flush with warmth.
Rosemary turned to the opposite counter and retrieved a blue-patterned mug hanging underneath the cabinet. I eyed what I could, relishing the sight of her small, round ass, naked thighs and calves. Again, the sheer fabric of her tiny panties allowed me to see her butt crack, and I couldn't stop pondering why she chose this morning to don this particular garment.
She poured coffee from the percolator, then added cream and sugar, just the way I liked it. As she turned back toward me, I raised my eyes to meet her face.
"Thank you," I said as she slid the mug across the Formica counter.
I sipped the sweet, brown liquid, leaving my lips on the rim, inhaling steam from the mug as I watched her.
"Bacon and scrambled eggs?" She asked.
"Oh, very much yes, please," I smiled. "Is John awake?"
"Yes, love." She poured the whisked eggs into another skillet. "He was up early, pounding away." I assumed she was referring to John's typewriter, and the novel he was working on, but maybe not. "And you have school today, right?"
"Yes, Rosie." I sighed, wanting to stay home and lounge around the pool with her and John.
"You don't sound very excited." She moved the beaten eggs back and forth in the skillet, watching them closely until they were fluffy. The chrome toaster clanked, and two slices of browned Wonder bread popped up.
"No, not really." I took another sip. "But I gotta get my math grades up, or all Hell will break loose."
"You better believe it." Rosemary scooped a portion of the scrambled eggs into a plate, then the remaining portion in another. "You have to get into college. No 'ifs, ands or buts'." Her nipples were blasting through that white fabric. God, I wanted to latch onto one and suckle like a newborn baby. So much for my erection going down.
"Okay, Mom," I smirked. "Message read loud and clear."
"You know it's true." She raised an eyebrow, pushing the plate of food across the counter toward me. Rosemary retrieved the toast, scraping a pat of butter across each slice. She took a bite of one piece, placing the other onto the corner of my plate.
"Yeah, yeah..." I clanked the fork against the Corningware plate, taking note of the green, cornflower pattern around the rim. The scrambled eggs and glistening butter atop the toast presented me with two versions of glorious morning yellow.
"Now eat up and take a shower," she chewed on a slice of bacon, "then I'll drive you to school."
But first, let me get this hard dick to go away. Jesus, I'm going to have to jack off in the bathroom!
I heard rustling from outside the kitchen and John's figure loomed in my periphery. The next moment, he stood beside me.
"Good morning, kiddo." Using an old term of endearment, perhaps not one for a young man who was fully nineteen, John's voice was low and smooth as he squeezed my shoulder. I could smell the faint musk of his body, he was so close. He was shirtless, wearing only his boxer shorts. When I turned toward him, mouth full of food, I was eye-level with his chest. More nipples, and I wanted to suck them as well.
I mumbled a reply, still chewing my food. His hand remained firmly on my shoulder, his body gently pressing against mine. This wasn't helping me battle my arousal.
"Did you finish that chapter?" Rosemary asked her husband.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Finally! Getting that mess tied up was a motherfucker."
I paused for a split-second. John had never used that degree of profanity around me, but of course I was now technically an adult. Still...
"John!" Rosemary snorted. "Such language!" With her brows furrowed, almost mockingly, she slid the second plate of food next to mine, and John pulled it toward himself. She tucked two more slices of bread into the toaster. "You certainly don't use that kind of language in your books."
"Well, this one's different, as you know," John replied. He was still right next to me, massaging my shoulder. My first thought was why, but I enjoyed the warmth of his body and longed to remove my tee-shirt so that our skin could touch. My boner ached terribly, needing release. Arousal had formed a lump in my throat.
"Honey, you need to be very careful," Rosemary admonished him. "Branching out into pornography is a big risk to take."
"Oh, come on!" I could feel John's breath on my cheek. "You know it's not that!"
His hand was now on my waist. What the fuck?
Rosemary smiled, pleased with herself for eliciting such a heated response.
"You're such a provocateur," he said. "If anything, it's erotica, and that's a stretch."
His hand slid down to my thigh as he spoke. I didn't know what to make of it. I only hoped he didn't discover my erection.
But he did.
In a flash, it happened. Then I found myself in a totally alien situation.
"Damn, kid." Again talking to me like I was still a child, which I wasn't, John's hand slid into my shorts, making me sit upright, almost choking on my food. "What's this?" His hand wrapped around my cock, squeezing it. I felt his lips brush against my neck as I dropped my fork.
"John!" Rosemary exclaimed. "What are you doing? I thought we were going to wait until tonight!"
I leaned back against John, shocked, yet overcome with desire. I closed my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder
"Ah, fuck it. I'm tired of waiting." John cursed as he kissed my neck, making me shiver. He began stroking my cock inside my shorts, and I let him.
"Such a horny kid," he breathed into my ear.
I wasn't a kid any more, dammit! I was out of high school!
His other hand slid under my shirt to caress my nipple. "How's this?"
All I could do was whimper was a breathy 'uh-huh'. The next thing I knew, he was facing me, his mouth pressed against mine.
"Christ," I heard Rosemary say. I was too occupied with John's advances to see her, but the lust in her voice told all. "You're right. He's one goddamn horny boy."
Our tongues lashed together as he tugged my nipple, his other hand pumping away at my cock. By now, my shirt was pushed up around my neck, my shorts down around my thighs. My naked ass writhed against the barstool as pleasure blazed through my loins. I broke our kiss and lunged for the object of my desire, John's nipple.
"Ohhh," he exhaled as I pressed my mouth against his skin and started suckling. I moaned with satisfaction, finally able to do what I had only dreamed of.
"Holy shit." Rosemary's language had gone in the potty, which made it all the more erotic. "There's going to be a lot of fucking ahead." I couldn't believe she was saying that.
"Damn straight," Mike replied, kissing the top of my head. "That's it," he whispered while he nursed me. "Suck...suck."
Although my mind raced with new thoughts and feelings, including shame, guilt, terror and pure, unadulterated lust, I obeyed, my lips curled back as my mouth created a powerful suction against his breast.
The heat in my groin roiled fiercely. With Mike's steady hand, not much time passed before I felt pressure building. I also felt something of his brushing against my thigh. Although I couldn't see it, I knew what it was. Reaching down, I wrapped my hand around it, feeling it twitch. At that moment, I climaxed.
"Arrrgh!" My body jerked as I broke my hold on Mike's wet nipple. I heard Rosemary hiss 'yesss' as the orgasm overtook me. Mike's pumping slowed as pulse after pulse of come spilled out of me. Each wave of pleasure made me jackknife against his torso. I never let go of his cock, though, and before I was done, I heard Mike groan as hot, sticky seed squirted onto my bare flesh.
The alarm clock buzzed angrily, shocking me out of a blissful, euphoric state. Immediately, I reeled from the harsh, morning light.
"Fuck!" I cursed into the pillow. A wad of gooey come cooled in my shorts, and I realized it was all a dream.
"Goddammit!" I buried my face in the blankets and almost wept with dismay, realizing nothing had happened and I was back to square one. It took a long time for me to extract myself from the tangled mess of bedclothes, place my bare feet on the carpet, and heave my disappointed self out of bed. My cock wasn't smart enough to stand down, having been through such a vivid, erotic dream, so I pressed it against my thigh as best I could.
Ugh. Time to greet another fucking day as a virgin.
"Good morning, honey." Rosemary greeted me as I trudged into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Rosie." I croaked, mostly to myself. I slid up on a barstool on the other side of the kitchen counter. I felt my erection trying to lift up, straining against my shorts.
Rosemary wore her usual thick, cotton robe, cinched around the waist. No filmy undershirt or skimpy, red panties, like in my dream, dammit. She tended to breakfast while I rubbed my eyes, trying to find some motivation.
"How did you sleep?" She asked.
I studied her tousled hair while she cooked sausage and eggs in an aluminum skillet.
"Well enough," I lied. I certainly wasn't going to mention being awakened by their nocturnal lovemaking.
"Coffee?" She asked.
"Yes, please." Our eyes met briefly. She smiled at me with that expressive mouth of hers, but alas, only in a motherly way.
Rosemary turned to the opposite counter and retrieved a blue-patterned mug hanging underneath the cabinet. I eyed her naked calves, taking advantage of what flashes of skin I could.
She filled the mug, adding cream and sugar. As she turned back to face me, I raised my eyes to meet her face.
"Thank you," I said as she slid the mug across the Formica counter.
I sipped the sweet, brown liquid, leaving my lips on the warm rim as I watched her. With the dream's images still sharp in my mind, it felt like déjà vu.
"Eggs and sausage?" She asked.
"Yes, please," I smiled.
"You have math class today, right?" Rosemary loaded a plate with steaming food.
"Ugh, yes...yes," I groaned.
"Hey, you should take it more seriously," she admonished. Her robe slipped open a bit and I caught a welcome glimpse of her scant cleavage. "If you fail to get into college, the shit's going to hit the fan."
I repeated my dreamed response, relishing the fact that I was almost reliving it, to an extent. "Okay, Mom," I smirked. "Message read loud and clear."
"You know it's true." She raised an eyebrow, pushing the plate of food toward me.
"Yeah, yeah..." I just wanted to jack off in the shower. No, what I really wanted was to get in the sack with Rosemary and fuck her silly. Maybe John would join us, or at least watch.
"Now eat up and take a shower," Rosemary said, "then I'll drive you to school."
As she bent over to open a cabinet near the floor, I almost choked on my sausage. As her robe fell open, I saw nothing but naked skin -- a pert, bare breast capped with an erect, pink nipple, to be more accurate.
What the fuck? Is she naked underneath her robe?
Then she stood back up and the wonderful vision disappeared.
As my brain processed what I had just witnessed, John's figure suddenly loomed in my periphery. The next moment, he stood beside me.
"Good morning, all." John squeezed my shoulder. As usual, he was mostly naked, wearing only his boxer shorts. His nipples were perfect and ready to suck.
"Breakfast?" Rosemary asked.
"Yes, honey," John replied, his voice back to normal, compared to his harsh, lovemaking tone from the previous night. Then Rosemary looked at me.
"Finish that," she commanded, pointing at my plate. "You need to get cleaned up and off to school."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, shoveling food into my mouth.
Underneath the spray of the chrome shower head, I squeezed out another load, pressing my face against the aquamarine tiles as spasm after spasm wracked my body. God, I needed to fuck, and soon!
Nine o'clock in the morning and the air was already warm, the sun cutting through the trees like a razor blade, forcing me to squint. As I lowered the sun visor on Rosemary's '68 Volkswagen, I couldn't help but think about her bare breasts, and wondered why she chose to be naked underneath her robe that morning. Or had she done it before and I hadn't noticed? And I wished my cock would deflate. Snug jeans didn't help matters any.
"You're very quiet, love," Rosemary interrupted my thoughts. I watched her grip the stickshift as we pulled away from the stoplight. The muscles in forearm flexed noticeably as she went from first gear to second, then to third, the VW's little motor tweeting away as we gained speed.
"Just thinking about class," I lied. Within minutes, we pulled up to the curb of my school.
"Pick you up at 3:30?" Rosemary asked.
"Yes, Rosie."
Then she leaned over and kissed me, something she did on occasion, but this time it was a little different. Instead of the usual peck on the cheek, she kissed me on the mouth. I wasn't startled. It wasn't the first time she had kissed me on the lips, but it had been ages since the last time. Perhaps it was my needy, aroused state, or did her mouth linger on mine for a second longer than usual? I savored what I could, closing my eyes for a brief moment, luxuriating against her soft, moist lips. Her breath smelled of coffee.
I'm glad my tutor was a relatively unattractive man. I guessed him to be around forty, since he talked of serving in Vietnam and being at the Tet Offensive when he was thirty. He smoked like a chimney, and looked more like sixty than his real age.
I made my way through the day, taking an opportunity around lunchtime to jerk off yet again in the bathroom. Rosemary was waiting at the curb promptly at 3:30.
"How did it go today?" She asked as school faded away in the VW's rear view mirror.
"Oh, fine...nothing special," I mumbled.
"But you did learn something, right?"
"Of course, Mom," I teased her. Calling someone I wanted to fuck "Mom" had started to fill me with perverse pleasure every time I said it. I smirked, watching the scenery reel past my window.
"You're damn right I'm your Mom," she responded, slapping me playfully on the thigh. Her hand lingered for a moment, only inches from my cock. "As long as your real Mom's far away," she paused for a moment, then continued, "or even if she's not."
I wanted another wet kiss like the one I had that morning, but refrained.
"And I don't mind you calling me 'Mom'." She wrapped her slender fingers around the stickshift as we slowed for a stop sign. I couldn't help glance repeatedly at the shift - a spindly chrome rod capped by a round, black ball etched with the car's shift pattern. To me, it looked like a slender, long cock with a big head, all being manipulated by my second mother.
The remainder of the afternoon passed with relative ease. As classical music from the stereo system played softly throughout the house, John worked on his novel and Rosemary started a new abstract in her studio until the sun dipped behind the tall, thick trees. Dinner that evening was Mexican take out. John had to run an errand -- he needed more writing supplies -- and returned with several wonderful-smelling cartons of spicy goodness.
We ate in relative silence and I helped Rosemary clean up afterwards. John went back to work as Rosemary and I watched an hour or two of television until she dropped off on the sofa. I found myself staring at her sleeping body - her face, the curves of her small breasts, her thighs, legs and feet -- enjoying it much more than the Mannix rerun on TV.
Around ten o'clock, Rosemary snorted loudly. Jolting awake, as if from a vivid dream, she mumbled something about bedtime, walked over to where I was sitting, kissed me on the forehead, and ambled down the dark hallway to the master bedroom. I watched her retreating legs, bare and smooth, longing to follow her.
That night, I dutifully eavesdropped from my bedroom to catch any hint of activity. None could be heard that night, or at least until I masturbated myself into sleep, my hand still clutching my sore dick as I floated away.
Although John and Rosemary were like parents to me, my real mother would have never worn such revealing clothes, gone nude under her bathrobe, or paraded around in those minimal swimsuits. Dad always had a shirt on, and slacks, or at least shorts. He was also older and corpulent and had a body that looked entirely different from John's lean, solid form.
Of course, my real parents were at least 10 or 15 years older than John and Rosemary. Mom's body was decidedly matronly, with large breasts, round hips and that middle-aged sag. That's not to say she wasn't attractive, but Rosemary's body was completely different, almost like a young, feminine man.
The jalapeno-laced dinner, my constant state of arousal, or a combination of both dictated my nocturnal journey that evening, providing plenty of fuel for a series of vivid dream fragments throughout the night.
The pieces retained in my memory included my mother and father. A constant fear in the back of my mind involved my parents' discovery of my sexual activities with John and Rosemary. Of course, nothing had happened yet, except in my fantasies, but in the dreams, we had already done the dirty deed.
Not that Mom and Dad were prudes or anything, but the discovery of their nineteen-year-old son romping with their best friends might be a bit much. I didn't know what they would do if they found out. I didn't want to know. God, I just wanted to fuck. That night, dream-images indelibly marked my brain, remaining fresh as I awoke the next morning.
Completely nude, I faced Rosemary, also nude, as my mother looked on. Mom's eyes burned into my skin. Closing my own eyes, I gasped as I felt Mom stare at my ass, lingering for a moment as I quivered with embarrassment and arousal. Then her gaze passed down my thighs and legs to my feet. My cock twitched and bobbed with need. I was relieved that my full erection and hardened nipples faced away from my mother. Still, Rosemary could see my aroused condition. Her body was within inches of mine, and my mother saw that. Rosemary's pointed breasts presented themselves for Mom's inspection. Mom knew I was watching, too.
Rosemary shuddered, wincing and biting her lower lip, as Mom's searing gaze passed as two hot points of light over her nakedness. The musky odor of flesh and arousal filled the air. I knew mother could smell the sex between Rosemary and me. The tension began to squeeze the breath out of me. I had to come.
At that moment, I could hear Dad's voice behind my mother.
"Come for me, baby," he said to Mom. Without looking, I saw him slip his hand down the front of her white blouse. Cupping one breast, he began to massage it gently. Mom closed her eyes and lowered her head to kiss his fingers. I could hear her breathing more heavily.
I relaxed slightly. Mom and Dad were horny, too, and they would let me watch them.
I opened my eyes and John appeared, his huge body approaching until it filled my vision, towering above me. Immediately, his hands began exploring my flesh. His fingers ran over my sensitive nipples, making me moan involuntarily.
"Come here, kid."
Jesus Christ. Still calling me kid!
His hand grasped my aching pole as his muscled body came within inches of mine. He began pistoning my cock. Rosemary, still standing at attention, gazed at us and smiled approvingly as John's lips touched my cheek.
Too much. It was too much as I yelped and whimpered in arousal. In full view of my parents, who were now doing it doggie style, their bodies moving together without a care, I pressed my mouth against John's chest, greedily sucking his nipple.
"Oh, yeahhh..." He growled. "Hungry boy."
Next, John and Rosemary laid my quivering body on soft blankets, my head resting in John's lap. His cock brushed my cheek as I turned to nuzzle and kiss it.
"Taste it," John commanded, and I obeyed, my mouth licking and sucking the side of his pole, but another voice distracted me.
"Hey, guys," Rosemary pleaded. "I need some, too."
I turned to see Rosemary's pale, freckled body hovering above me. My cock jutted up, bobbing slightly, as she gripped it, pulling back the skin. Immediately, she brushed the tip of my cock against her wet pussy, getting some of the juice on my glistening, purple helmet.
"John's right," she smiled down at me. "It's time to fuck."
The tip of my cock disappeared inside her blood-red lady fur.
"And to be fucked," she added.
Body moving in perfect motion, Rosemary lowered her sweet ass on my pole, undulating as she took it, inch by inch, within her body.
"Oh...my...God," I choked out half-audible words as the sensation of her gripping pussy engulfed my rod. My hands rested on her thighs as she took all of my cock and began pumping against me.
"Oh...OH...Sssssss," she hissed with pleasure, clenching her teeth as slapping noises emanated from between our bodies. "That's what I need."
I moaned as John cupped my cheek with one hand and gently rubbed my right nipple with the other. Rosemary's insistent pumping was already pushing me toward orgasm. Then she yelled out.
"Betty," she breathlessly called to my mother, "I'm fucking your son...watch me fuck your son."
I turned my head and met my mother's lust-filled gaze. On her hands and knees, her glistening, nude body jerked with each of my father's urgent thrusts. Her large breasts flopped back and forth as she panted through her open mouth. In spite of our separate situations, we never broke eye contact. Dad continued humping against Mom's ass, their bodies also making a sharp, slapping noise.
Although Rosemary was giving me a good ride, God, I wanted to be in my Dad's place. My broken voice again escaped from its cocoon, quivering against Rosemary's aggressive thrusts.
"Mama...Mama," I pleaded. "Watch me fuck." My orgasm approached. I could hear John's approving groans somewhere above me as his cock flexed against my cheek. "Watch me get fucked, Mama!"
"I'm watching you, son," Mom replied. "Get that pussy...get some...fuck it...and then FUCK ME!!!"
"Yes, Mama!" My voice was loud and clear by then. I didn't want there to be any miscommunication. "I want to fuck you! Please let me fuck you!"
"Yes, son...YES!!!" Mom tossed back her head, looking like a wild, sweaty animal.
In that moment, my mother and I started to come simultaneously. I had to look away from my mother's dark eyes as my face contorted with climax. John and Rosemary both muttered words of approval, caressing my body as sensations overtook me. Knowing everyone was watching, I convulsed repeatedly as my raw seed shot up into Rosemary's sweet body. In the distance, I could hear my mother's passionate cries.
"Oh, God, Mama's coming," she shrieked. "Watch Mama come...oh...oh...AGGGH!"
My eyes opened to see my mother straddling me, grunting, sweating, out of breath, overtaken by her orgasm. For the first time, my father's gentle voice filled my ears, giving me his approval.
"It's okay to fuck your mother." His voice sounded far away, yet right beside me. "She needs you to fuck her."
"Ohhh, Mama," I snarled, crazed with incestuous lust. "I love to fuck you...I need to fuck you! I need YOU!" I wanted there to be no mistake how I felt about my mother, how I craved her. I reached out to brush my fingers over her huge, hardened nipples, making her moan and her pussy clench around my cock even more. "Fuck me more...PLEASE," I begged, "fuck me more...aaah!" The weight of her body and her pussy squeezing my cock drew out another surprise orgasm, slapping me senseless. I couldn't stop coming, my seed filling her body, just like I had filled Rosemary only moments before, finally spilling out of her pussy and making a sticky mess on my stomach and thighs.
"Good son," Mom whispered, touching my face, her big tits brushing against my chest. "My good, good son."
My hips thrust violently into the soft blankets, wetting them with semen. My teeth gnashed at the pillowcase as my body flailed about like a rag doll.
My own coming noises awoke me as I rolled off the bed, bedclothes tangling in my limbs and breaking my fall. Hung up on the side of the bed, I gasped for air as my hips slowly stopped their frenzied writhing. Panting like a dog, I whimpered and pleaded to no one in particular to capture the retreating shadows of my vivid dream.
"Use me, fuck me, take me." I didn't know exactly what utterances left my mouth, but it confirmed that being a sex toy turned me on like nothing else, especially if my parents were involved. I was fully nineteen years old; my body was ready, but my innocent mind fought to keep pace.
Finally, I realized where I was. My breathing slowed. It took an eternity for me to drowsily free myself, plopping to the floor, taking everything from the bed with me.
Still reeling from the vivid images in my head, I fought to keep from walking directly into John and Rosemary's bedroom and begging for sex. Scrunching my toes against the thick, shag carpet, I rose to my feet and took several deep breaths, rubbing my face with both hands until my surroundings came into focus. Crickets chirped outside as I heard the low rumble of what sounded like a freight train in the distance. The circular face of the alarm clock on the nightstand announced 1:30AM.
I opened my bedroom door, peering down the moonlit hallway toward my hosts' bedroom. A tiny nightlight glowed next to their door. Nervously, I kept kneading my toes against the carpet. My intent was to go to the kitchen for a glass of milk, but I turned in the opposite direction, toward the master bedroom. Voices in my head battled with each other as my need took over.
Dummy, what are you doing? What do you think is going to happen? I don't care, dammit. God, I need it so bad.
My feet shuffled inch by inch toward their bedroom. Drawing closer, my eyes adjusting to the low light, I looked down to see a faint, yellow glow emanating from underneath the door. The cool night air caressed my bare, erect nipples. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, formed by arousal and fear. Were they still awake? If so, what were they doing at this wee hour? I think I knew the answer.
Silently, I knelt in front of their door, my face even with the brass doorknob, listening intently for sounds. I held my breath, waiting. Were they having sex? I slid into a prone position, my face pressed against the carpet, peering through the tiny gap under the door. A sliver of light played on my face, and I caught a hint of Rosemary's earthy perfume.
Then it happened.
A creak suddenly emanated from the other side, startling me. The following second, the door swung open, bathing me with light. I looked up to see John, stark naked, hovering above me, his cock jutting out aggressively.
"I thought I heard someone," he smirked.
Author's note -- this story contains scenes of homosexual activity.
Portions of this story have been inspired by the author's previous works, including Morning Sex with Mom, and the Tits Are for Sucking series.
My parents left town for a few weeks on a combination business trip and vacation, leaving me, their only son, behind due to my school obligations. I was doing poorly in math, so had to attend summer school to catch up in preparation for my first year at community college. Dad worked for a large office supply manufacturing firm and traveled frequently. As he had done for many years, he took advantage of a generous expense account which allowed my mother to accompany him once or twice per year to a destination selected by the corporation. His job was to find and develop new sales territories, and he was good at what he did.
Normally, I got to tag along, which I loved. Mom felt the same way about these trips. Getting us out of the house and our routine -- her with her domestic chores, club meetings and lunches with friends and me with my school -- effectively broke up the daily monotony. Although some of the travel destinations included Asswipe, North Dakota, or Inbred Holler, West Virginia, we didn't mind, as long as we could experience something new and different.
This time, I stayed behind and concentrated on my studies, but not at home. At least to their sensibilities, I was not of a responsible age yet, so they sent me to stay under the careful watch of their best friends - John and his wife Rosemary.
John was a successful writer of both fiction and non-fiction books, and some of his publications had made it to the New York Times Best Seller list. That and some wise investments in the burgeoning personal computer industry resulted in a comfortable lifestyle for him and his wife. John divided his time between burrowing away in his writing den, door closed, clacking away at his pale blue IBM Selectric, enjoying the fruits of his labor by traveling with Rosemary, or just relaxing with her at home.
A friendly, nurturing woman with a big, toothy smile, Rosemary was a few years younger than her husband, a hippie homebody who dabbled in New Age spirituality mixed with good, old-fashioned homespun wisdom. An excellent cook, she also enjoyed working in her garden during the season, maintaining a household, and painting abstracts in her sunny studio.
John and Rosemary were like a second set of parents to me, I having known them all my life, although they had recently begun treating me more like an adult than a shy high school kid. Yes, I had just turned nineteen and hoped that, before long, my real parents might deem me mature enough to take care of myself. John and Rosemary were ahead of the curve, but we were still not quite free from that grey area where they still called me things like "kid" and "boy" -- like I was a child -- and Rosemary drove me to summer school every day in her brilliant, yellow Beetle, like a doting mother. Having no choice in the matter but to stay with them during my parents' trip, I appreciated the change of scenery, and made the best of my situation.
There was another reason I didn't mind the stayover. Honestly, for the past few months, my wandering mind and roiling young sexuality were taking me to a place I thought I'd never be. To my surprise, I'd been harboring a burgeoning lust for Rosemary -- hell, I was hot for both of them. Rosemary was like an alluring, younger aunt, with a lithe body and small breasts. I never knew her age, but she looked to be thirty or thirty-five, tops. She never struck me as a beauty queen or seductress, but her pale, freckled skin was smooth and pretty, her body a pleasant combination of boyish and feminine, as natural and unapologetic as her personality. I noticed her blood-red hair had sprouted a few strands of grey, just like my mother.
John had always sported an impressive physique and I found myself glancing at him more and more as I matured. During most of my stay, he went shirtless, wearing only his shorts, much to my delight. It was obvious that he worked out regularly and jogged, as was the vogue in the late nineteen-seventies. When not admiring Rosemary, I spent many hours surreptitiously eyeing John's firm, radiant body.
John and Rosemary owned a beautiful, modern home in one of the town's well-established, middle-class suburbs. The low, ranch-style structure was mostly canopied by large, old-growth shade trees. Thick foliage surrounded the house, filtering out external noises and providing a certain degree of privacy from neighbors.
The back yard contained a modest swimming pool next to a partially-enclosed patio which, in turn, was attached to the rear of the house. A decoratively-bricked area containing lawn furniture filled the gap between the patio and pool. At the edge of the patio was a hot tub just large enough for two or three people. Since these were the dog days of summer, we spent a lot of time by the pool's glittering, blue water.
When not engrossed in other projects, Rosemary could be found stretched out on a long, plastic lawn chair, lounging in the dappled sunlight in a skimpy, two-piece bathing suit. A more powerfully-built woman would've made the suit obscene, but Rosemary still managed to make it look demure.
Her body always glistened with suntan lotion, and I longed for the chance to refresh that sheen, but she always asked her husband to take care of her back. The other parts of her body she tended to herself. As a Bach Invention wafted down on us from the external speakers mounted in the patio area, I watched with great care as she dutifully applied the lotion. She'd start with her face, shoulders and arms, working down to her chest and stomach, then to her thighs and legs, finishing up with her feet.
Day after scorching day, watching the two of them go about their business, my libido started to do its work. I had already surrendered to masturbating frequently, filling my head with all sorts of naughty encounters. Now, these encounters included Rosemary's limber body and John's taut, solid form. Initially, I fought these desires, feeling shame for thinking of them in that way. They were almost my parents, for Christ's sake!
At night, I writhed bare-assed on the bed in their guest room, beating my pole into milky submission. It took a little time for me to think of these two parent-like figures sexually, but soon, I learned to submit to my newfound desires, to relax and enjoy the ride. Now they were front and center during my Onanic sojourns.
During my nocturnal masturbatory fantasies, I happened upon a pleasant discovery. In spite of the size of John and Rosemary's mid-century home, my bedroom and theirs shared an interior wall, a barrier that was not totally soundproof. Was it a minor shortcoming on the part of the original architect, perhaps, who had done such a thorough and tasteful job on the house overall? Should the wall have been more solid and sound absorbing? Probably, but I soon came to appreciate this constructional oversight.
Hence, I would often hear sounds from their bedroom -- doors closing, drawers opening and shutting, water running in their bathroom, plus the ambling cadence of John's low voice -- seeping through the wallpaper, enflaming my curiosity.
In the wee hours, I would awake to other sounds -- persistent and rhythmic -- from the other side. Holding as still as possible, I would press my ear against the wall behind my bed and listen intently. One night, after an eternity of tedious monitoring, I could make out a voice. It was Rosemary's. As I continued to listen, I could tell she was obviously exited, spilling out a stream of words I could not make out.
The rhythmic sounds emanating from their room became a dull banging. It would be barely noticeable if my ear wasn't glued to the wallpaper. Motionless, I closed my eyes in the near-darkness, keeping my breaths shallow and slow as I tried to keep other noises from interfering with my aural voyeurism. John's voice chimed in with Rosemary's. To my delight, I could understand his words - the words of an aggressive lover.
"Yeah, honey...take it...take it," he said. "Horny slut, I'm going to punish your pussy."
My eyes opened wide. No doubt there was some fucking going on! Jesus, I thought, I shouldn't be listening to this, but screw it. I couldn't pass up this opportunity. My penis swelled.
Rosemary responded, but again, I couldn't make out specific words. John continued, his voice mixing with the rhythmic thumping. With demeaning words and tone, he instructed his wife on what to do.
"That's it, you bitch, that's it...right there. Get that ass up. What a wet pussy you have!"
More agitated noises came from Rosemary as all of my senses focused on the encounter happening only a foot or two away.
"Goddammit," John growled. "Fucking whore. Take my seed. Take it...now!"
Christ, he was giving her a good workout! In spite of John's tone, I didn't sense that Rosemary was being hurt or forced in this encounter. The sounds I heard indicated a woman getting a good, thorough fucking. The banging ramped up until I heard what sounded like stifled screams from Rosemary. My cock by now was straining against my shorts. I reached down, tugging at the elastic waistband to let it out. Once it bobbed free, I wrapped my hand around it and began to squeeze and pull.
"Ohhh, Goddamn! Fuck...fuck!" John cursed as I listened, stroking my cock, imagining him crushing out his orgasm inside his wife's body. It didn't take long for me to feel the approach of my own climax.
"That's it, John," I whispered to myself, "Fuck the shit out of her. Come inside her and let me watch." I envisioned their naked bodies pounding furiously, glistening with sweat, John's cock wet with his wife's juices. I wanted to be part of it! At that moment, a delicious surge flashed through my loins. My mouth fell open as I fought to keep still, my young seed squirting out, making a mess on my shorts and the pillows.
"Damn," I hissed between clenched teeth as the orgasm persisted. I milked the sensation for another minute, savoring it as the climax subsided. Taking care not to make a sound, I grabbed a few Kleenex from the nightstand and tried to clean up the goo as best I could.
Everything fell silent for the rest of the night. I slipped into a pleasant sleep with the blankets pulled up around my chin. Listening to John and Rosemary fuck had enflamed my already-active imagination. The rest of the night was filled with dreams of their nude bodies in full view of my gaze, and of their hands caressing me, and my own nakedness.
Skin touched skin as I suckled Rosemary's small, sweet breasts. John held me from behind while his wife nursed, and I writhed with sensual joy between them.
The last dream I could remember ended with a shuddering climax as I came for my new lovers. I awoke with the morning sun, horny and needing attention, but all I could do is once again beat my cock to a milky finish before hopping out of bed. Thank God for those Kleenex tissues!
"Good morning, honey." Rosemary greeted me as I sleepily trudged into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Rosie." I called her by her nickname. Clad in shorts and tee-shirt, I slid up on a barstool on the other side of the kitchen counter. My erection hadn't yet subsided, so I welcomed the distance between us. I took note of her unusually skimpy attire. Normally, Rosemary wore a bathrobe, which managed to conceal most of her body. This particular morning, she was clad in nothing but a thin, snug man's undershirt and red panties, items I'd never seen her wear before. Well, it was the middle of summer, and the nights didn't cool down very much. Maybe she was too warm in her usual thick robe?
Rosemary stood at the stovetop, pushing several slices of bacon around in a cast iron skillet. "Did you sleep well?" She asked. I eyed her body as she moved. I could easily see her thick, erect nipples through the fabric. Again, it wasn't as if her naked body was alien to me. Those minimal swimsuits she wore gave me a pretty good idea of what lie underneath.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied. I certainly wasn't going to mention being awakened by their nocturnal lovemaking.
"Hmmm..." she grinned, removing the sizzling strips of bacon from the skillet and placing them on a plate lined with a folded paper towel. "You must be a sound sleeper."
I took pause. What the fuck is she saying? I didn't know how to respond, but did anyway.
"My bed's very comfortable," I replied, "and the neighborhood is so quiet."
"Yes." Rosemary cracked open several brown-shelled eggs into a small bowl, added salt, pepper and a dollop of milk, then briskly swirled the mixture with a fork. "All the bushes and trees surrounding the house absorb what noise there is. That's another reason why we love this place. Want some coffee?"
"Yes, please." Our eyes met briefly, making my loins flush with warmth.
Rosemary turned to the opposite counter and retrieved a blue-patterned mug hanging underneath the cabinet. I eyed what I could, relishing the sight of her small, round ass, naked thighs and calves. Again, the sheer fabric of her tiny panties allowed me to see her butt crack, and I couldn't stop pondering why she chose this morning to don this particular garment.
She poured coffee from the percolator, then added cream and sugar, just the way I liked it. As she turned back toward me, I raised my eyes to meet her face.
"Thank you," I said as she slid the mug across the Formica counter.
I sipped the sweet, brown liquid, leaving my lips on the rim, inhaling steam from the mug as I watched her.
"Bacon and scrambled eggs?" She asked.
"Oh, very much yes, please," I smiled. "Is John awake?"
"Yes, love." She poured the whisked eggs into another skillet. "He was up early, pounding away." I assumed she was referring to John's typewriter, and the novel he was working on, but maybe not. "And you have school today, right?"
"Yes, Rosie." I sighed, wanting to stay home and lounge around the pool with her and John.
"You don't sound very excited." She moved the beaten eggs back and forth in the skillet, watching them closely until they were fluffy. The chrome toaster clanked, and two slices of browned Wonder bread popped up.
"No, not really." I took another sip. "But I gotta get my math grades up, or all Hell will break loose."
"You better believe it." Rosemary scooped a portion of the scrambled eggs into a plate, then the remaining portion in another. "You have to get into college. No 'ifs, ands or buts'." Her nipples were blasting through that white fabric. God, I wanted to latch onto one and suckle like a newborn baby. So much for my erection going down.
"Okay, Mom," I smirked. "Message read loud and clear."
"You know it's true." She raised an eyebrow, pushing the plate of food across the counter toward me. Rosemary retrieved the toast, scraping a pat of butter across each slice. She took a bite of one piece, placing the other onto the corner of my plate.
"Yeah, yeah..." I clanked the fork against the Corningware plate, taking note of the green, cornflower pattern around the rim. The scrambled eggs and glistening butter atop the toast presented me with two versions of glorious morning yellow.
"Now eat up and take a shower," she chewed on a slice of bacon, "then I'll drive you to school."
But first, let me get this hard dick to go away. Jesus, I'm going to have to jack off in the bathroom!
I heard rustling from outside the kitchen and John's figure loomed in my periphery. The next moment, he stood beside me.
"Good morning, kiddo." Using an old term of endearment, perhaps not one for a young man who was fully nineteen, John's voice was low and smooth as he squeezed my shoulder. I could smell the faint musk of his body, he was so close. He was shirtless, wearing only his boxer shorts. When I turned toward him, mouth full of food, I was eye-level with his chest. More nipples, and I wanted to suck them as well.
I mumbled a reply, still chewing my food. His hand remained firmly on my shoulder, his body gently pressing against mine. This wasn't helping me battle my arousal.
"Did you finish that chapter?" Rosemary asked her husband.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Finally! Getting that mess tied up was a motherfucker."
I paused for a split-second. John had never used that degree of profanity around me, but of course I was now technically an adult. Still...
"John!" Rosemary snorted. "Such language!" With her brows furrowed, almost mockingly, she slid the second plate of food next to mine, and John pulled it toward himself. She tucked two more slices of bread into the toaster. "You certainly don't use that kind of language in your books."
"Well, this one's different, as you know," John replied. He was still right next to me, massaging my shoulder. My first thought was why, but I enjoyed the warmth of his body and longed to remove my tee-shirt so that our skin could touch. My boner ached terribly, needing release. Arousal had formed a lump in my throat.
"Honey, you need to be very careful," Rosemary admonished him. "Branching out into pornography is a big risk to take."
"Oh, come on!" I could feel John's breath on my cheek. "You know it's not that!"
His hand was now on my waist. What the fuck?
Rosemary smiled, pleased with herself for eliciting such a heated response.
"You're such a provocateur," he said. "If anything, it's erotica, and that's a stretch."
His hand slid down to my thigh as he spoke. I didn't know what to make of it. I only hoped he didn't discover my erection.
But he did.
In a flash, it happened. Then I found myself in a totally alien situation.
"Damn, kid." Again talking to me like I was still a child, which I wasn't, John's hand slid into my shorts, making me sit upright, almost choking on my food. "What's this?" His hand wrapped around my cock, squeezing it. I felt his lips brush against my neck as I dropped my fork.
"John!" Rosemary exclaimed. "What are you doing? I thought we were going to wait until tonight!"
I leaned back against John, shocked, yet overcome with desire. I closed my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder
"Ah, fuck it. I'm tired of waiting." John cursed as he kissed my neck, making me shiver. He began stroking my cock inside my shorts, and I let him.
"Such a horny kid," he breathed into my ear.
I wasn't a kid any more, dammit! I was out of high school!
His other hand slid under my shirt to caress my nipple. "How's this?"
All I could do was whimper was a breathy 'uh-huh'. The next thing I knew, he was facing me, his mouth pressed against mine.
"Christ," I heard Rosemary say. I was too occupied with John's advances to see her, but the lust in her voice told all. "You're right. He's one goddamn horny boy."
Our tongues lashed together as he tugged my nipple, his other hand pumping away at my cock. By now, my shirt was pushed up around my neck, my shorts down around my thighs. My naked ass writhed against the barstool as pleasure blazed through my loins. I broke our kiss and lunged for the object of my desire, John's nipple.
"Ohhh," he exhaled as I pressed my mouth against his skin and started suckling. I moaned with satisfaction, finally able to do what I had only dreamed of.
"Holy shit." Rosemary's language had gone in the potty, which made it all the more erotic. "There's going to be a lot of fucking ahead." I couldn't believe she was saying that.
"Damn straight," Mike replied, kissing the top of my head. "That's it," he whispered while he nursed me. "Suck...suck."
Although my mind raced with new thoughts and feelings, including shame, guilt, terror and pure, unadulterated lust, I obeyed, my lips curled back as my mouth created a powerful suction against his breast.
The heat in my groin roiled fiercely. With Mike's steady hand, not much time passed before I felt pressure building. I also felt something of his brushing against my thigh. Although I couldn't see it, I knew what it was. Reaching down, I wrapped my hand around it, feeling it twitch. At that moment, I climaxed.
"Arrrgh!" My body jerked as I broke my hold on Mike's wet nipple. I heard Rosemary hiss 'yesss' as the orgasm overtook me. Mike's pumping slowed as pulse after pulse of come spilled out of me. Each wave of pleasure made me jackknife against his torso. I never let go of his cock, though, and before I was done, I heard Mike groan as hot, sticky seed squirted onto my bare flesh.
The alarm clock buzzed angrily, shocking me out of a blissful, euphoric state. Immediately, I reeled from the harsh, morning light.
"Fuck!" I cursed into the pillow. A wad of gooey come cooled in my shorts, and I realized it was all a dream.
"Goddammit!" I buried my face in the blankets and almost wept with dismay, realizing nothing had happened and I was back to square one. It took a long time for me to extract myself from the tangled mess of bedclothes, place my bare feet on the carpet, and heave my disappointed self out of bed. My cock wasn't smart enough to stand down, having been through such a vivid, erotic dream, so I pressed it against my thigh as best I could.
Ugh. Time to greet another fucking day as a virgin.
"Good morning, honey." Rosemary greeted me as I trudged into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Rosie." I croaked, mostly to myself. I slid up on a barstool on the other side of the kitchen counter. I felt my erection trying to lift up, straining against my shorts.
Rosemary wore her usual thick, cotton robe, cinched around the waist. No filmy undershirt or skimpy, red panties, like in my dream, dammit. She tended to breakfast while I rubbed my eyes, trying to find some motivation.
"How did you sleep?" She asked.
I studied her tousled hair while she cooked sausage and eggs in an aluminum skillet.
"Well enough," I lied. I certainly wasn't going to mention being awakened by their nocturnal lovemaking.
"Coffee?" She asked.
"Yes, please." Our eyes met briefly. She smiled at me with that expressive mouth of hers, but alas, only in a motherly way.
Rosemary turned to the opposite counter and retrieved a blue-patterned mug hanging underneath the cabinet. I eyed her naked calves, taking advantage of what flashes of skin I could.
She filled the mug, adding cream and sugar. As she turned back to face me, I raised my eyes to meet her face.
"Thank you," I said as she slid the mug across the Formica counter.
I sipped the sweet, brown liquid, leaving my lips on the warm rim as I watched her. With the dream's images still sharp in my mind, it felt like déjà vu.
"Eggs and sausage?" She asked.
"Yes, please," I smiled.
"You have math class today, right?" Rosemary loaded a plate with steaming food.
"Ugh, yes...yes," I groaned.
"Hey, you should take it more seriously," she admonished. Her robe slipped open a bit and I caught a welcome glimpse of her scant cleavage. "If you fail to get into college, the shit's going to hit the fan."
I repeated my dreamed response, relishing the fact that I was almost reliving it, to an extent. "Okay, Mom," I smirked. "Message read loud and clear."
"You know it's true." She raised an eyebrow, pushing the plate of food toward me.
"Yeah, yeah..." I just wanted to jack off in the shower. No, what I really wanted was to get in the sack with Rosemary and fuck her silly. Maybe John would join us, or at least watch.
"Now eat up and take a shower," Rosemary said, "then I'll drive you to school."
As she bent over to open a cabinet near the floor, I almost choked on my sausage. As her robe fell open, I saw nothing but naked skin -- a pert, bare breast capped with an erect, pink nipple, to be more accurate.
What the fuck? Is she naked underneath her robe?
Then she stood back up and the wonderful vision disappeared.
As my brain processed what I had just witnessed, John's figure suddenly loomed in my periphery. The next moment, he stood beside me.
"Good morning, all." John squeezed my shoulder. As usual, he was mostly naked, wearing only his boxer shorts. His nipples were perfect and ready to suck.
"Breakfast?" Rosemary asked.
"Yes, honey," John replied, his voice back to normal, compared to his harsh, lovemaking tone from the previous night. Then Rosemary looked at me.
"Finish that," she commanded, pointing at my plate. "You need to get cleaned up and off to school."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, shoveling food into my mouth.
Underneath the spray of the chrome shower head, I squeezed out another load, pressing my face against the aquamarine tiles as spasm after spasm wracked my body. God, I needed to fuck, and soon!
Nine o'clock in the morning and the air was already warm, the sun cutting through the trees like a razor blade, forcing me to squint. As I lowered the sun visor on Rosemary's '68 Volkswagen, I couldn't help but think about her bare breasts, and wondered why she chose to be naked underneath her robe that morning. Or had she done it before and I hadn't noticed? And I wished my cock would deflate. Snug jeans didn't help matters any.
"You're very quiet, love," Rosemary interrupted my thoughts. I watched her grip the stickshift as we pulled away from the stoplight. The muscles in forearm flexed noticeably as she went from first gear to second, then to third, the VW's little motor tweeting away as we gained speed.
"Just thinking about class," I lied. Within minutes, we pulled up to the curb of my school.
"Pick you up at 3:30?" Rosemary asked.
"Yes, Rosie."
Then she leaned over and kissed me, something she did on occasion, but this time it was a little different. Instead of the usual peck on the cheek, she kissed me on the mouth. I wasn't startled. It wasn't the first time she had kissed me on the lips, but it had been ages since the last time. Perhaps it was my needy, aroused state, or did her mouth linger on mine for a second longer than usual? I savored what I could, closing my eyes for a brief moment, luxuriating against her soft, moist lips. Her breath smelled of coffee.
I'm glad my tutor was a relatively unattractive man. I guessed him to be around forty, since he talked of serving in Vietnam and being at the Tet Offensive when he was thirty. He smoked like a chimney, and looked more like sixty than his real age.
I made my way through the day, taking an opportunity around lunchtime to jerk off yet again in the bathroom. Rosemary was waiting at the curb promptly at 3:30.
"How did it go today?" She asked as school faded away in the VW's rear view mirror.
"Oh, fine...nothing special," I mumbled.
"But you did learn something, right?"
"Of course, Mom," I teased her. Calling someone I wanted to fuck "Mom" had started to fill me with perverse pleasure every time I said it. I smirked, watching the scenery reel past my window.
"You're damn right I'm your Mom," she responded, slapping me playfully on the thigh. Her hand lingered for a moment, only inches from my cock. "As long as your real Mom's far away," she paused for a moment, then continued, "or even if she's not."
I wanted another wet kiss like the one I had that morning, but refrained.
"And I don't mind you calling me 'Mom'." She wrapped her slender fingers around the stickshift as we slowed for a stop sign. I couldn't help glance repeatedly at the shift - a spindly chrome rod capped by a round, black ball etched with the car's shift pattern. To me, it looked like a slender, long cock with a big head, all being manipulated by my second mother.
The remainder of the afternoon passed with relative ease. As classical music from the stereo system played softly throughout the house, John worked on his novel and Rosemary started a new abstract in her studio until the sun dipped behind the tall, thick trees. Dinner that evening was Mexican take out. John had to run an errand -- he needed more writing supplies -- and returned with several wonderful-smelling cartons of spicy goodness.
We ate in relative silence and I helped Rosemary clean up afterwards. John went back to work as Rosemary and I watched an hour or two of television until she dropped off on the sofa. I found myself staring at her sleeping body - her face, the curves of her small breasts, her thighs, legs and feet -- enjoying it much more than the Mannix rerun on TV.
Around ten o'clock, Rosemary snorted loudly. Jolting awake, as if from a vivid dream, she mumbled something about bedtime, walked over to where I was sitting, kissed me on the forehead, and ambled down the dark hallway to the master bedroom. I watched her retreating legs, bare and smooth, longing to follow her.
That night, I dutifully eavesdropped from my bedroom to catch any hint of activity. None could be heard that night, or at least until I masturbated myself into sleep, my hand still clutching my sore dick as I floated away.
Although John and Rosemary were like parents to me, my real mother would have never worn such revealing clothes, gone nude under her bathrobe, or paraded around in those minimal swimsuits. Dad always had a shirt on, and slacks, or at least shorts. He was also older and corpulent and had a body that looked entirely different from John's lean, solid form.
Of course, my real parents were at least 10 or 15 years older than John and Rosemary. Mom's body was decidedly matronly, with large breasts, round hips and that middle-aged sag. That's not to say she wasn't attractive, but Rosemary's body was completely different, almost like a young, feminine man.
The jalapeno-laced dinner, my constant state of arousal, or a combination of both dictated my nocturnal journey that evening, providing plenty of fuel for a series of vivid dream fragments throughout the night.
The pieces retained in my memory included my mother and father. A constant fear in the back of my mind involved my parents' discovery of my sexual activities with John and Rosemary. Of course, nothing had happened yet, except in my fantasies, but in the dreams, we had already done the dirty deed.
Not that Mom and Dad were prudes or anything, but the discovery of their nineteen-year-old son romping with their best friends might be a bit much. I didn't know what they would do if they found out. I didn't want to know. God, I just wanted to fuck. That night, dream-images indelibly marked my brain, remaining fresh as I awoke the next morning.
Completely nude, I faced Rosemary, also nude, as my mother looked on. Mom's eyes burned into my skin. Closing my own eyes, I gasped as I felt Mom stare at my ass, lingering for a moment as I quivered with embarrassment and arousal. Then her gaze passed down my thighs and legs to my feet. My cock twitched and bobbed with need. I was relieved that my full erection and hardened nipples faced away from my mother. Still, Rosemary could see my aroused condition. Her body was within inches of mine, and my mother saw that. Rosemary's pointed breasts presented themselves for Mom's inspection. Mom knew I was watching, too.
Rosemary shuddered, wincing and biting her lower lip, as Mom's searing gaze passed as two hot points of light over her nakedness. The musky odor of flesh and arousal filled the air. I knew mother could smell the sex between Rosemary and me. The tension began to squeeze the breath out of me. I had to come.
At that moment, I could hear Dad's voice behind my mother.
"Come for me, baby," he said to Mom. Without looking, I saw him slip his hand down the front of her white blouse. Cupping one breast, he began to massage it gently. Mom closed her eyes and lowered her head to kiss his fingers. I could hear her breathing more heavily.
I relaxed slightly. Mom and Dad were horny, too, and they would let me watch them.
I opened my eyes and John appeared, his huge body approaching until it filled my vision, towering above me. Immediately, his hands began exploring my flesh. His fingers ran over my sensitive nipples, making me moan involuntarily.
"Come here, kid."
Jesus Christ. Still calling me kid!
His hand grasped my aching pole as his muscled body came within inches of mine. He began pistoning my cock. Rosemary, still standing at attention, gazed at us and smiled approvingly as John's lips touched my cheek.
Too much. It was too much as I yelped and whimpered in arousal. In full view of my parents, who were now doing it doggie style, their bodies moving together without a care, I pressed my mouth against John's chest, greedily sucking his nipple.
"Oh, yeahhh..." He growled. "Hungry boy."
Next, John and Rosemary laid my quivering body on soft blankets, my head resting in John's lap. His cock brushed my cheek as I turned to nuzzle and kiss it.
"Taste it," John commanded, and I obeyed, my mouth licking and sucking the side of his pole, but another voice distracted me.
"Hey, guys," Rosemary pleaded. "I need some, too."
I turned to see Rosemary's pale, freckled body hovering above me. My cock jutted up, bobbing slightly, as she gripped it, pulling back the skin. Immediately, she brushed the tip of my cock against her wet pussy, getting some of the juice on my glistening, purple helmet.
"John's right," she smiled down at me. "It's time to fuck."
The tip of my cock disappeared inside her blood-red lady fur.
"And to be fucked," she added.
Body moving in perfect motion, Rosemary lowered her sweet ass on my pole, undulating as she took it, inch by inch, within her body.
"Oh...my...God," I choked out half-audible words as the sensation of her gripping pussy engulfed my rod. My hands rested on her thighs as she took all of my cock and began pumping against me.
"Oh...OH...Sssssss," she hissed with pleasure, clenching her teeth as slapping noises emanated from between our bodies. "That's what I need."
I moaned as John cupped my cheek with one hand and gently rubbed my right nipple with the other. Rosemary's insistent pumping was already pushing me toward orgasm. Then she yelled out.
"Betty," she breathlessly called to my mother, "I'm fucking your son...watch me fuck your son."
I turned my head and met my mother's lust-filled gaze. On her hands and knees, her glistening, nude body jerked with each of my father's urgent thrusts. Her large breasts flopped back and forth as she panted through her open mouth. In spite of our separate situations, we never broke eye contact. Dad continued humping against Mom's ass, their bodies also making a sharp, slapping noise.
Although Rosemary was giving me a good ride, God, I wanted to be in my Dad's place. My broken voice again escaped from its cocoon, quivering against Rosemary's aggressive thrusts.
"Mama...Mama," I pleaded. "Watch me fuck." My orgasm approached. I could hear John's approving groans somewhere above me as his cock flexed against my cheek. "Watch me get fucked, Mama!"
"I'm watching you, son," Mom replied. "Get that pussy...get some...fuck it...and then FUCK ME!!!"
"Yes, Mama!" My voice was loud and clear by then. I didn't want there to be any miscommunication. "I want to fuck you! Please let me fuck you!"
"Yes, son...YES!!!" Mom tossed back her head, looking like a wild, sweaty animal.
In that moment, my mother and I started to come simultaneously. I had to look away from my mother's dark eyes as my face contorted with climax. John and Rosemary both muttered words of approval, caressing my body as sensations overtook me. Knowing everyone was watching, I convulsed repeatedly as my raw seed shot up into Rosemary's sweet body. In the distance, I could hear my mother's passionate cries.
"Oh, God, Mama's coming," she shrieked. "Watch Mama come...oh...oh...AGGGH!"
My eyes opened to see my mother straddling me, grunting, sweating, out of breath, overtaken by her orgasm. For the first time, my father's gentle voice filled my ears, giving me his approval.
"It's okay to fuck your mother." His voice sounded far away, yet right beside me. "She needs you to fuck her."
"Ohhh, Mama," I snarled, crazed with incestuous lust. "I love to fuck you...I need to fuck you! I need YOU!" I wanted there to be no mistake how I felt about my mother, how I craved her. I reached out to brush my fingers over her huge, hardened nipples, making her moan and her pussy clench around my cock even more. "Fuck me more...PLEASE," I begged, "fuck me more...aaah!" The weight of her body and her pussy squeezing my cock drew out another surprise orgasm, slapping me senseless. I couldn't stop coming, my seed filling her body, just like I had filled Rosemary only moments before, finally spilling out of her pussy and making a sticky mess on my stomach and thighs.
"Good son," Mom whispered, touching my face, her big tits brushing against my chest. "My good, good son."
My hips thrust violently into the soft blankets, wetting them with semen. My teeth gnashed at the pillowcase as my body flailed about like a rag doll.
My own coming noises awoke me as I rolled off the bed, bedclothes tangling in my limbs and breaking my fall. Hung up on the side of the bed, I gasped for air as my hips slowly stopped their frenzied writhing. Panting like a dog, I whimpered and pleaded to no one in particular to capture the retreating shadows of my vivid dream.
"Use me, fuck me, take me." I didn't know exactly what utterances left my mouth, but it confirmed that being a sex toy turned me on like nothing else, especially if my parents were involved. I was fully nineteen years old; my body was ready, but my innocent mind fought to keep pace.
Finally, I realized where I was. My breathing slowed. It took an eternity for me to drowsily free myself, plopping to the floor, taking everything from the bed with me.
Still reeling from the vivid images in my head, I fought to keep from walking directly into John and Rosemary's bedroom and begging for sex. Scrunching my toes against the thick, shag carpet, I rose to my feet and took several deep breaths, rubbing my face with both hands until my surroundings came into focus. Crickets chirped outside as I heard the low rumble of what sounded like a freight train in the distance. The circular face of the alarm clock on the nightstand announced 1:30AM.
I opened my bedroom door, peering down the moonlit hallway toward my hosts' bedroom. A tiny nightlight glowed next to their door. Nervously, I kept kneading my toes against the carpet. My intent was to go to the kitchen for a glass of milk, but I turned in the opposite direction, toward the master bedroom. Voices in my head battled with each other as my need took over.
Dummy, what are you doing? What do you think is going to happen? I don't care, dammit. God, I need it so bad.
My feet shuffled inch by inch toward their bedroom. Drawing closer, my eyes adjusting to the low light, I looked down to see a faint, yellow glow emanating from underneath the door. The cool night air caressed my bare, erect nipples. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, formed by arousal and fear. Were they still awake? If so, what were they doing at this wee hour? I think I knew the answer.
Silently, I knelt in front of their door, my face even with the brass doorknob, listening intently for sounds. I held my breath, waiting. Were they having sex? I slid into a prone position, my face pressed against the carpet, peering through the tiny gap under the door. A sliver of light played on my face, and I caught a hint of Rosemary's earthy perfume.
Then it happened.
A creak suddenly emanated from the other side, startling me. The following second, the door swung open, bathing me with light. I looked up to see John, stark naked, hovering above me, his cock jutting out aggressively.
"I thought I heard someone," he smirked.
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