A Surprise Visitor

Amazingly this is my 100th blog. I hope you all find following my life interesting and entertaining. Looking at the stats it seems lots of what I’ve written in the past is not getting any current views. I like to think this might be because Medium doesn’t make it very easy to find rather than a lack of interest, so I’m going to make an index and will post a link to it on each new blog. Now, on to yesterday when I had an unexpected visitor:

I say unexpected but that’s hardly true. John had been away over Christmas with his parents, but had been back four days. I was surprised it took him so long to end up on my doorstep. (His back story is here https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble/a-text-book-seduction-part1-a131dbf4bf5f)

He had texted which was polite; ‘I’m back at college next week but am having difficulty with a particular concept. Can I come round to see if you can help? It is quite urgent.’

His euphemism made me smile. What possible concept could he be talking about? As his mother had told me and as I’d gathered from my conversations with him he was a bright boy. I doubted there was much I could teach him that would help with his studies but I was confident that wasn’t why he was coming over.

I texted back, ‘Cum now if you want to.’ I chose the spelling to avoid doubt that I knew what he wanted. If I was wrong then we could spend a pleasant evening discussing Keynes's theory of capitalism or Einstein's second theory of relativity. I’d put money on being right though.

I wasn’t dressed for seducing young virile virgins, not that after our last two meetings, I needed much in the way of a good seduction technique, but I went to choose something suitable.

The undies were no problem. I realised I still had his mother’s knickers he’d wanked himself into last time and did consider wearing them, but thought it would be better they stayed clean and he could take them back. I chose instead a white set diaphanous in the extreme. The sort of material where I wished I still had my bushy pubic hair so that the triangle would stand out behind the thin material.

No, it was the skirt that I hesitated over. The first time he’d come over I’d worn a long full skirt, very schoolmarmish. Hardly appropriate or necessary now. I chose a short tight number instead. Far too short to wear to the office. Far too short for a mid-forties woman to wear full stop, but I’m told I still have good legs so decided to expose them. Stockings of course. They may have gone out of everyday fashion a generation or two before John was born but he seemed to like what he saw last time.

Given it was a midweek evening I didn’t want to waste too much time. I was excited and nervous. Probably more than he was. There were three men-males-in my life at the moment I felt I might be able to let fuck me. All for different reasons. Charles because he was so considerate, so able to control himself I knew he’d stop if I said the word no matter how excited he was. Craig because he felt like family and so it didn’t seem so intrusive (Yeah, what’s a bit of incest between friends?) and John who was young enough to be my son, who was shy and amenable to instruction, and who I felt posed no threat.

One of the three, this year, I was certain would end my drought. I’d bottled it with Craig only days ago. I felt the need, the determination, not to this time.

I’d barely finished changing when my doorbell rang. My, he must have left the house immediately my text appeared on his screen. He had a couple of text books under his arm. Cover for his visit I hoped. I was going to be a very unhappy and severely frustrated bunny if he really did have a problem with his studies. The look on his face though confirmed he was on my doorstep for sex. His eyes latched onto my bust. Perhaps the fact at the last minute I’d decided to dispense with my blouse had something to do with it. Sod the nosy neighbours.

I invited him in. I had wondered about attacking him as soon as I closed the door, dropping his trousers, sucking him, there and then but initially thought better if it. I had to remember how inexperienced he was and how prone to a quick climax. But on the other hand, he’d demonstrated how quickly he could recover. Perhaps a quick blowjob, a short strip for him to admire while he recovered, and then a full-blown fuck was the way to go. He could be on his way inside half an hour. I jest! About the half-hour bit. Not the rest. That’s what I did.

If he was shocked it didn’t show. By the time his trousers reached his ankles, his cock was at ninety degrees to his body shouting for attention. Screaming to be molested. I obliged. I was sucking it before I had a chance to think about what I was doing. Thinking was my enemy. The ally of my phobia. Putting doubts in my mind. Reservations. A thousand reasons I shouldn’t do it. Tough. I was doing it. We were doing it. He’d managed to hold on when my hand had taken hold of his cock. He’d managed to hold on when I’d touched the tip with my tongue. And he still held on when I’d opened my mouth. When I’d slid my lips over its length. At least as much as I could accommodate. But that was it. I was drawing my lips back the first time when he muttered, “Fuck!” and I felt his hot sticky semen hit the back of my throat. I left his member half in my mouth. Enjoyed the pulsing as each load of cum was expelled. Felt the slight softening as he finished ejecting his load. Removed it from my mouth. Licked as a child does an ice cream cornet. Exaggerated slurps. From his balls to the tip. Not that there was much to clean off. I had it all in my mouth. I was elated and disappointed. I’d hoped he’d have lasted longer. I’d have to give him harder projects for his homework. I was elated though. I searched my mind for dark thoughts. Phobia inducing thoughts. I couldn’t find any. Not one. Teens and blowjobs were now definitively on the menu.

My immediate concern though was what to do with my mouthful of cum.

Part 2 to follow.