Toy boy Story

John. My toy boy! Hide that depressing thought. A toy boy. Sign of age. My age. Anyway, apart from that thought, which skipped through my brain but didn’t stop, I was on heat from the moment his mother had said he wanted to see me to discuss a concept he was having difficulty grasping. There’s enough innuendo in that sentence to last a lifetime so I will move on without comment. For anyone reading this and wondering what I’m blathering on about a short synopsis is that I gave some of my old textbooks to a 19-year-old student and had some sexy fun with him. For a fuller description see here: https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble/a-text-book-seduction-part1-a131dbf4bf5f

So I was expecting him at three pm.

Last time he was late. Not this time. Bang on the stroke of three the bell rang.

I wondered which of us would be the most nervous. Perhaps that’s not the right word. Not for me anyway. Apprehensive would be more appropriate. The apprehension was about my ability to do what I wanted. I wanted him to shag my brains out. Eloquent aren’t I? I wanted that more than adequate cock of his buried in me. In my mouth. My cunt. My arse. Stupid isn’t it? I wanted that with almost every fibre of my body but those remaining parts held sway. More powerful than they should be. More demanding they be listened to. The brain, at least my brain, had a weird ability to argue with itself. I hoped today the logical side would win and kick out the illogical demons forever.

I could banish the argument for now. I was dressed to please my nineteen-year-old. I had on a set of pink lingerie. A suspender belt with metal clasps and of course stockings. I think you’ll like the outfit when you see it. I hoped he would.

I ushered him into the lounge. He was clearly nervous.

“Have a seat John. Your mother tells me you are having a problem with your course. If that’s true I’m more than happy to help. If you used it as an excuse to come round then that’s fine too. We can dispense with any pretense and just have some fun. If I’ve misread that, and you only want some help with your coursework I’m sorry if what I’m saying embarrasses you.” I put it that way in those words, school ma’am like, deliberately. I wanted, needed, control. I knew the only way I’d be able to let him do what I desperately wanted him to do was for me to know with certainty I had total control over each and every aspect.

“Er, yeah, well, I sort of, I read the first few chapters…” Oh god, he was here for help with his bloody course! “…and I sort of found it straightforward but you did say I could come back and I, er, wanted to. I, er…” a long pause, “…enjoyed what we did.”

Thank god. I’d panicked unnecessarily. He was very hesitant but considering how shy he was it must have taken a huge amount of guts to say what he did.

I flopped down on the sofa opposite him and opened my legs in the most unladylike manner. “That’s good John. I’ve been looking forward to this since your mother told me.” As I spoke I undid the buttons on my blouse and pulled it open. John's eyes seemed to open as much. My bra was quite revealing.

“Okay John, I’ll be honest. I’m not sure what I’ll allow you to do, so don’t get upset about it. It won’t be your fault if I call a halt because I have some issues with men. I’m hoping that you’ll help me get over them, but I don’t know. Okay?”

Whether he’d taken in what I’d said I doubted, his eyes were fixed on my tits, but he did nod.

“Okay stand up.” I said it with a degree of authority. I wanted him to be totally compliant. He did as asked. “Undress down to your boxers.”

He did as asked. His boxers were taking the strain. The view of my bra and the cavern up my skirt were providing more than enough stimulus to keep him hard.

“What would you like me to do?” I asked. He stood silent. I doubted it was because he didn’t know what he wanted but more likely he was too embarrassed to ask. I took pity on him.

“Would you like me to take my knickers off?” A nod of the head and a whispered “Yes please.”

“You must do it,” I ordered. “Come here.” He did as asked.

“Kneel.” Again he did it without question.

My ‘Warning a predator is close’ meter hadn’t flickered.

“Run your hands up my legs. Start at my knees. Stop when you feel my suspenders.” His hands moved slowly. It could have been to increase the tension but I suspect it was because he was worried he would do something wrong. They arrived at my stocking tops. They stopped. He looked up at me seeking instructions. “Follow the suspenders with your fingers. Stop when you touch my knickers.” Again, slow progress and stopping as requested. The scenario was making me boil. I could feel myself leaking. His boxers were being strained to bursting point.

“Put your head up my skirt. Lick my knickers. You like the feel of knickers don’t you?” I kept my voice stern.

“Yes.”

His head disappeared up my skirt and I felt his tongue touch the gusset. Shit. He must have done some research. His technique was a thousand times better than at his last attempt.

I felt certain I was going to move forward with my phobia.

“Pull my knickers down to my knees.” His fingers were trembling, poor lad, but found the waistband and lowered them as instructed. I didn’t give him any further instructions for two reasons. I wanted to make sure he was able to resist temptation and only act on my say so and secondly, I had the first scintilla of doubt. I overrode it though. He’d waited like a sheepdog awaiting the command to rush off. I gave it. “Lick my lips.” He did. Cat like. Long slow laps over my pussy’s complete length. For a virgin, he was doing a brilliant job. The whole scenario, my teasing, his touch was getting to me. Had got to me. My breathing had quickened. I was about to come. God, after my express orgasm out with Elizabeth a few nights earlier and now this, I began to wonder if I was becoming a nymphomaniac. It seemed I was needing less and less stimulus to come. Not that I was complaining.

I didn’t warn him. When it arrived he still had his tongue dutifully licking my vagina. He even tried to continue as my body convulsed but I stopped him. I put my hands on the back of his head and pushed it into my body. I hoped he wouldn’t drown. There was plenty of liquid. I held his head there while I regained control. My convulsions eventually eased and I released his head. “Come out John. Stand up.” He looked a little shocked, I think he had not expected to be so domineering. It was now my turn to get on my knees though. This was it. Almost. I wasn’t intending to get him to fuck me but I was intending to give him a blow job. To physically touch his cock. To put it in my mouth. To suck it. To lick it. Lick his balls. Suck those too. I thought I could. I had no adverse thoughts. I hooked my fingers into his boxers and pulled them down to his ankles. His cock sprang out of its confining jail as if on a spring. As I said when I first saw it, it was a healthy size. Not BBC 14 inches, but larger than Charles’s or Craig’s.

I reached out and gently grasped it. It exploded. Or at least the cum inside did. I hadn’t been expecting it which was totally naïve of me. What did I think was going to happen? A virgin spends a quarter of an hour gawping up my skirt and at my tits and feeling my legs and licking my pussy and I expect him to have total control? Wake up Trace. Idiot.

On the plus side, I had the delicious feel of what felt like a pint of semen sprayed over my face. In my hair, my eyes, everywhere.

I heard John muttering, “Oh god. I’m sorry I’m so sorry. Oh god.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “My fault. I should have known better. Could you find me some tissues? I can’t see. Should be a box in the kitchen.” He hurried out to find them while I groped around to try to find my knickers and use them to clean up while waiting for Sir Galahad to return. I felt lacy material under my fingers and mopped the semen out of my eyes. That was better. I looked at the knickers in my hand. Not mine! What the…? John returned with the tissues and stopped dead when he saw what was in my hand. I’d already worked out where they’d come from. I held them up. “These your mums?” A very sheepish yes. “Why are they here?”

“I…I was going to ask… if you’d wear them and if I… if I… if I could feel you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed John. Nothing to be embarrassed about. They are sexy and I can understand you wanting to use them.” They were sexy too. This was a real bonus. I’d been keen to know what Elizabeth regarded as sexy and now I knew. They were gorgeous. A deep crimson with exquisite lace edging and French style, open-legged. When Elizabeth said sexy she meant it. But I remembered John saying she didn’t wear stockings. Hiding these under tights was a crying shame. I’d have to encourage her! But back to the here and now.

“Won’t your mum miss them?”

A look of panic crossed his face. “I’ve got to take them back. They’re not a present!”

“Oh, John no I know that. I meant while they were here especially now they’re dirty and about to get dirtier.” I slipped them on. They felt like pure silk giving me a beautiful feeling as I pulled them up my legs.

“I’ll need to wash them somehow, she only wears them occasionally, so I’ve got time,” he mumbled at me, his eyes glued to the knickers as I smoothed them down. “I’ll do it before you go. Come and have a feel.” His cock was already showing signs of life, but I decided to leave it alone for now. “Run your hand between my legs. Palm flat.” We were both standing. Inches apart. “Feel my breast with your other hand.” He’d remembered his lesson from last time and gave it a gentle grope and teased my nipple.

Then I felt it. We were so close. Something touched my leg. A brief contact. Light as a breeze. I didn’t need to look to see what. John's cock was twitching and it had brushed my thigh. And I hadn’t imploded. John’s total concentration was still on his mother’s knickers. I wondered if he wished it had been her wearing them or if that was too obscene. Do boys - young men — really lust after their mothers? I’d think about it later. At that moment I had more pressing things on my mind. His cock. Its hardness. It’s proximity to me. To my cunt. Still I had that inertia. No way would John object to me grabbing it and guiding it into my nest. No way did ninety percent of my brain object. I recalled last time. I failed at the final hurdle to give him a blow job. I’d compromise. I’d regard it as an outstanding success if I managed that.

He’d had long enough feeling me. Those knickers were truly dirty now. My juice was running down my legs like pee. I took his hand away. Said, “John do nothing. Don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t touch me.” If I was to have any chance of doing this I needed total control.

I sank to my knees in front of him. Gently held the tip of his cock. Raised it up. Licked the underside of his shaft from tip to balls. Opened my mouth wide and took his balls in. Sucked. Then I let my mind catch up to see where I was.

I hadn’t freaked; I hadn’t screamed. I hadn’t had a panic attack. And most importantly I hadn’t bitten his balls off which is what I’d threatened to do in those dark days to the next man who presented them.

To say I was elated is an understatement. I can’t convey what an effort it had been. Now I sucked on his balls for a while, holding his cock. I risked a wank. I moved my hand down the shaft and back up. It felt as though he had control. I let his balls fall out of my mouth and looked up at his face. His eyes were closed, he was biting his lip. He clearly was concentrating on stopping himself shooting his load. I needed to hurry. I didn’t want to have gotten this far to be thwarted in the end by another premature eruption.

This was it.

I held his shaft halfway along its length and pointed it down towards my mouth. So far so good. I opened my mouth and leant forward. His helmet brushed my lips and entered and I flicked my tongue to greet it. I moved my head forward more to take some length and was amazed at how wide I had to open. His girth! I closed my lips around it, flicked my tongue against his tip, and took as much of his cock in my mouth as I could. I’d never been able to open my throat as some women can so only had a portion inside. I sucked. That ended it. I heard a gasp and felt his cock twitch. His second load shot out into my mouth.

Perhaps in other circumstances I’d have been disappointed that it had happened so soon, so quickly after taking him into my mouth. But that didn’t matter. I’d done it. Just. That last action. Letting his cock into my body, albeit my mouth rather than my cunt had needed all my willpower. I knew I’d only been able to do it because of the circumstance, of John being a virgin, shy, and easily controlled, but it was a further step toward my rehabilitation.

Now to explain to his mother why I had her sexiest knickers in my sink.

I wondered which of us was on the highest cloud, John for having had his first blowjob ever, or me for being able to administer it. Either way, we were both satisfied.

I looked at my watch. Two hours since he’d arrived. Would his parents start to wonder? “Did you say how long you might be?” I asked,

“No, but I guess I should be getting back.”

“You can’t yet. Your mother’s knickers! I need to rinse them out and try to dry them.”

“Don’t worry as I say she doesn’t wear them often, just on special occasions.”

“She won’t see they're missing?”

“No, they were tucked away.”

It wasn’t until I was writing this down that it occurred to me what a surreal conversation it was. A 43 year old talking to a 19 year old about his mother’s knickers that the 43 year old had just worn while giving her 19 year old son a blowjob. Not only surreal but depraved. Gorgeously depraved!

“Okay, look leave them here, I’ll wash and dry them then put them in a package and give them to your mother when I see her next. I assume she won' open it if it’s addressed to you?

“No, definitely not.”

So we cleaned ourselves up and I drove him home. I’m not sure why but I piled him up with some more books for cover. When we arrived I was invited in for a quick drink. More surreal happenings! (See Part 2)