Category: Boy/Woman Sex (Page 8 of 18)

The Lottery – Chapter 4
By
Caliboy1991

It took three weeks, instead of two, to complete the arrangements, and on the last Monday of March, Mom and I drove to Austin with Grant Jones. It was butt-crack of dawn early when Grant picked us up in his SUV. We stopped by a local donut shop where he and Mom got coffee and I got my Dr Pepper.

We were on the interstate before long and in between songs on the country music station, Grant said, “What are you guys going to do with your winnings?”

Mom stopped looking out the window, and glanced over at the lawyer, “One thing’s for damn sure. We’re not going back to Louisiana. God, I’m so glad Earl wasn’t the marrying kind.”

She played with the seatbelt strap across her chest before continuing, “We’re definitely going to start over. Me and Robin have been talking about it since winning. We’re going to stay in Texas. As your Mr. Willoughby has been fond of saying, no state taxes are a selling point.”

Grant looked at me through the rearview mirror, “What about you, Robin? You want to live in Texarkana?”

I shook my head, “Would you if it were me?”

“Point taken. Where then?”

Mom and I had spent a lot of time talking about it. All the big cities had lots of stuff going for them. “We’ve talked about maybe moving to Austin or San Antonio. But the first thing we’re going to do is take a vacation for a few weeks.”

Grant drummed his fingers on the wheel to the tune of the country song coming out of the speakers, “That’s the spirit. Lots of places to go.”

The visor in front of Mom was down and I could see the smile play across her face, “I want to go to the beach, Grant. You’d think growing up in Louisiana, I’d have gone. But never had the chance. Now, I think we’re going to the beach.”

Grant said, “There’s plenty of them in Texas. Galveston’s got a nice beach. Also, even though it’s out of the way, South Padre Island has probably the best beaches in Texas. Maybe even along the entire gulf coast.”

After eating my donuts, I fell asleep in the backseat, and didn’t wake until we were on the outskirts of Austin, moving along in heavy traffic. A few minutes later, we were in downtown Austin, and Grant was feeding quarters into a meter outside of an official-looking building. The other attorney, Mr. Willoughby, the one who handled the trust, met us in front of the plate-glass doors.

From there, it was a whirlwind of activity as they met with several men and women in suits who shook their hands and had Grant, as the trustee of the trust, sign most of the forms. There was one uncomfortable moment when the lottery commissioners wanted to take Mom’s photo. But Grant and Mr. Willoughby stepped in and reminded the lottery people we were claiming the check through the trust and the trust was choosing to remain anonymous.

Mom and I did let Grant take some pictures where we held the actual check. It was surreal holding a bit of paper with the figures $166,521,564 printed on the check amount field. Mom took my hand, “Oh, Pooh Bear, we’re rich. You’ll never have to worry about Earl, or money problems ever again.”

From the Lottery Commission’s offices, Mr. Willoughby took us over to a bank where we deposited the check. He explained it had a trust department that would work with Grant to invest the money in our trust. Before we left, a lady in a pantsuit with platinum blonde hair came over to us and gave mom a manila folder, “Ms. Lambert, there are debit cards with PINs and instructions to access that account online in this folder, as well as a small amount of cash for incidentals. We expect the check from the state to clear within a few days, in the meantime, there’s a line of credit tied to this account, so you can start enjoying your winnings right now. All the information you need is in the folder. If you need anything from the bank, my business card is in there too. My name’s Lois. Lois Feldman.”

Mom took the folder and handed it to me, “Thank you, Mrs. Feldman. We’ll do that.”

When we got back to Grant’s SUV, he said, “Well, there you go, Sam, Robin. Welcome to the millionaires’ club. I’ve got a court case in the morning back home. So, I’ve got to hit the road before much longer. You folks are welcome to drive back there with me. But aside from my affable company, what do you have waiting for you back there?”

Mom said, “Are you sure, Grant? You’ll be okay on the drive back alone?”

He chuckled, “Yeah. I’ve got Reba and Shania to keep me company.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d had all the country radio I’d cared for. And I had slept most of the way. “Thanks for all the help, Grant,” I said, offering him my hand. I felt all grown up as he shook it.

The lawyer leaned close, “We’ll be talking regularly, Robin. Y’all are good to do pretty much whatever you want for now. The bank put an obscene line of credit on the account for now.”

Then, as Mr. Willoughby was introducing someone to Mom, Grant gently took me by the shoulder and walked toward the back of the SUV, “Robin, your mom’s a good woman. But if I had to guess, you’re going to be the man of the house and the one to track spending. You and I will talk about it as things get set up. For now, over the next thirty days, you guys have up to a million available.”

My eyes were round as saucers, I stammered, “A m-million?”

Grant nodded, “Yeah. But don’t look at it as a contest. It’s there to be used and enjoyed, but what you don’t spend will still be there, available.”

It took a few minutes to get away from the bank. Grant took me and Mom over to a rental car place where we Grant arranged a long-term rental for us. When we followed the young woman working the counter out to see the car, I let out a low whistle. I wasn’t exactly a car aficionado, but the cobalt blue Maserati Ghibli was more of a car than I’d ever seen. And it was ours for a month.

Grant gave us a couple of recommendations for hotels and left it to us to decide as he left us standing beside the Maserati as he started his nearly six-hour return trip.

Mom came over, twirling the key-fob in one hand and slid the other around my back, “What a difference a month makes, Pooh Bear. We were homeless and living in our old beat-to-hell Celica. Now, look at what we’re driving.”

I hugged her back. My eyes were even with her forehead. I really had shot up since the beginning of the seventh grade. A year before, Mom had been a full head taller than me. Now I was taller, if just by an inch. It was a good thing we won the lottery. I’d just about outgrown what little I had before we ran out on Earl. And the clothes we’d bought in Texarkana had mostly come from Walmart. Now, I expected our next stop would be Macy’s, maybe even Neiman Marcus.

I was almost right. We stopped at the Four Seasons hotel and checked in. It was a good thing, too. There was some kind of convention in town and nearly all the rooms were booked.

The rest of the afternoon, we spent shopping at Macy’s. In truth, we spent a lot more time picking outfits for Mom than for me. But after picking out a couple of pairs of pants, some shirts, and more shorts, we were heading out of the boy’s section when Mom stopped by the rack of underwear, “Oh, Pooh, we can’t forget these.”

While I had picked up some cheap, plain white underwear at Walmart with some money Grant loaned us, there were certainly nicer brands than Fruit of the Loom or Haines. I was looking at a pair of boxers when Mom said, “What about these, Pooh?”

I looked up and did a double take. Across the top of the packaging was the brand: Hanro. Bikini briefs for Men. Admittedly, the model wearing the briefs was smoking hot, for a guy. My eyes shifted from the packaging to Mom, “You think I should wear those?”

Mom put the package of underwear against my stomach, looking from me to the guy posing the underwear, “It’s your choice, Pooh, but as you get older, I don’t see why you can’t wear stuff that’s more mature.”

I looked askance at Mom, “You really think I should wear them?”

Mom’s cheeks colored more than what her mascara could account for, “You know I’m biased. I think you’re positively adorable in whatever you wear. But you’ll be thirteen in a few months and a young man. I’m biased, but I think you’d look gorgeous in these. Any young lady who disagrees should have her head examined.”

And that’s how I walked out of there with some pretty sexy underwear.

After all that shopping, it was getting late, so we ended up back at the hotel, where a bell-hop carted our bags up to our room. When he dropped the bags next to the door, I gave him a bit of cash from the envelope Lois at the bank gave us.

Then Mom groaned, “Oh, shit. There must be a mistake.”

I came over beside her. There was only one bed, a king. Then I replayed back in my mind when we checked in earlier. Mom had asked for a room. The man behind the counter told her she was lucky the hotel still had anything available. I shook my head, neither of us had even thought of asking for a room with double beds.

Mom was already on the phone to the front desk when I said, “If they don’t have another room, we can make this work.”

After a brief call, Mom hung up the phone, “The only other rooms available are just like this.”

I sat down on the end of the bed and removed my shoes and socks, “I guess I can sleep on the floor.”

Mom stood up and walked over to a short sofa, and pushed down on the material. Shaking her head, she said, “You don’t need to do that, Pooh Bear. We’ve shared beds before. We can manage for a few more nights.”

If Mom didn’t mind, I wasn’t going to fuss. The floor was pretty hard, anyway. When Mom went into the bathroom, I heard her say, “Next place has to have a whirlpool.”

I came up behind her and saw over her shoulder a walk-in shower with poured marble walls. I agreed. I missed the whirlpool tub from the Hilton in Texarkana. Mom couldn’t see my grin; we were getting spoiled. And I loved it.

While she showered, I surfed the TV, watching a few minutes of several shows, until the bathroom door opened and Mom came out. I think my jaw dropped. She was wearing an oversized bath-towel wrapped around her chest. It barely came down far enough to cover her girl parts. She blushed as she said, “I forgot a change of clothes.”

Healthy eating and no Earl to cause her stress had done Mom a world of good. Her hair seemed fuller and shinier than I’d ever seen. I couldn’t see the worry lines on her face anymore, and that made her look years younger than her twenty-seven years.

“Wow, Mom. Your hair really looks good,” I said. “I bet the next time you order a drink at a restaurant, they card you.”

Mom’s blush grew redder as she ripped open a package of pastel-colored panties and pulled out a pair. She turned away as she slid them up her legs and under the towel.

Then she found a cami-top. Still turned away, she let the towel fall to the floor as she slid the top on. When she saw me still staring, she said, “I’m sorry, sweetie. I should have told you so you could have excused yourself if you wanted.”

Ever since Mom had caught me peaking in on her, she had become slightly more open about our bodies and had even started referring to me as a young man when talking with other people. Still, save for that first time, this was the only time since when I saw her bare back.

“Um, It’s okay, Mom. I didn’t see anything. I’m going to get a shower too.”

With that, I closed the bathroom door behind me and stripped. The waterfall showerhead was nice, almost creating a rain-like effect. Even as my dick grew hard as I washed it, I wasn’t so desperate for a cum as I had been that first night in the Hilton. I’d enjoyed the jacuzzi tub a lot, and had beat-off almost every night.

Before wrapping my fingers around my bean-pole, I inspected myself again. Still no hair. At least I didn’t have to worry about school for a bit, which meant no boys to make fun of my bald pubic area in gym class.

As I stroke my thin erection, I thought about several girls in my grade back in Louisiana. But even as I stroked myself, I couldn’t keep my focus on either of them. My mind wandered until it settled on a lean, smooth woman’s back. There was something tantalizing familiar and incredibly erotic about the vision filling my mind. After a moment, as my fingers slipped up and down my shaft, the tingling grew and I leaned back against the tile as I picked up my pace.

The first sign I was close was when my little marble-sized balls constricted. That was followed by my shaft getting even harder. Then my dick spasmed in my fingers and a shot of my watery, clear, immature cum splattered against the shower’s glass door.

Another little dribble dripped onto the bottom of the shower, where water whisked it away. I was breathing heavily as I wiped the bit of cum from the glass and sent it following after the second bit of my cum.

I was reaching for a clean towel when I realized the back I’d been fantasizing about was my mom’s. “Oh, shit,” I muttered. How in the hell could I have done that?”

As I toweled off my hair, I continued muttering, “It’s not a big deal. I bet lots of guys do the same. And it’s not like Mom isn’t super pretty.”

By the time I wrapped the towel around my waist, I had rationalized my fantasy, swore it wouldn’t happen again, and then opened the door. Like Mom earlier, I too had forgotten a change of clothes.

Mom was on the left side of the bed, under the plush white covers. Before, when we lived with Earl, at night, she’d wear an oversized T-shirt and maybe a pair of baggy shorts. Now, all I could see was the white cami-top. It was about as far from a loose-fitting T-shirt as she could get. Seeing Mom’s perky boobs clearly defined under her cami, my vow to not think of her again was like dust on the wind.

I tore my eyes away from her chest when I realized I was mentally undressing my mom. I went over to the bags of my new clothes and as I rummaged for something to put on, Mom said, “Try on one of those cute little briefs, Pooh Bear.”

About that time, I wish I’d listened to my earlier instincts and bought some boxers too. Unfortunately, aside from my old plain white underwear were the new low-cut colored briefs in the Hanro package. I ripped the package open and took a navy-blue pair. When I tried to put them on under the shower towel wrapped around my waist, I stumbled as my foot got caught on the hem of the towel. I would have fallen if I hadn’t put my hand out and steadied myself against the wall.

The easiest way was the most embarrassing, especially considering Mom was watching. I grumbled, “Don’t look, okay.”

Then, without really waiting, and keeping my back turned toward the bed, I let the towel fall to the floor and quickly stepped into the snug-fitting skimpy underwear. Unlike my old white ones, this pair of underwear was snug and my junk was a bulge within the dark material.

Mom piped up, “Oh, you look really cute in those, Pooh Bear.”

I groaned, “Mom, why’d l let you talk me into these? I feel naked in them.”

“Come on, sweetie,” Mom repeated, “Turn around and let’s see. From the back they seem modest enough.”

I was lucky I had shot my load just a few minutes before. When I turned around, the part of me hardest to control remained calm. Still, how could Mom help but see my stuff was on display through the snug fabric?

Mom patted the bed, “I don’t know why you think you look bad in those, Pooh. They make you look more mature.”

I crawled under the covers and kept to my side of the bed. After a bit of time, Mom turned off the TV, “What do we want to do tomorrow? We can pretty much do anything we want.”

I put my hands behind my head. This truly was the start of a brand-new life for us. “We should get new cell phones. The one you’ve got is one Earl gave you. Maybe after that, we can find a good restaurant.”

Mom leaned over and gave me a playful punch, “McDonalds is it?”

Funny, before we won the lottery, a trip to Micky Ds would have been a real treat. But after a few weeks hanging out at Grant’s law office and getting a glimpse of the wider world, cheap fast food didn’t sound very appealing.

I mock-rubbed the spot where her fist hit my arm. I was tempted to stick my tongue out at her. But it just didn’t feel like the mature thing to do. “I bet there are loads of restaurants. Let’s try something different.”

I fluffed my pillows and sank down under the covers. The bed was even more comfortable than the one at the Hilton. And a million times better than the lumpy little twin bed in Earl’s trailer. Mom leaned farther over and gave me a hug and a quick peck on my cheek, “I love you, Pooh Bear. Sweet dreams.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved

The Lottery – Chapter 9
By
Caliboy1991

The air nipped at my cheeks as I keyed in the code and waited for the gate to swing open. For so early in October, it was unseasonably cool. Once the gate swung open, I pushed down on the gas pedal and rolled into the near-abandoned sub-division. Apart from the light on the outside of the security shack, the streets were dark.

Sam reached over and rested her hand on mine, which was on the gearshift. “It’s kind of forbidding; it’s so dark.”

While it was dark, the SUV’s headlights pierced the gloom, chasing the night away. I gave the vehicle more gas, enjoying the throaty roar of the engine. Over the past few months, since the lottery, Sam had taught me how to drive. I spent almost as much time behind the wheel as she did. I had been driving since lunch time, almost eight hours before, and was glad we were almost there.

The house was in the back of the empty subdivision. When we reached it, a light pierced the darkness from the porch. The front of the house looked little different from the one time they visited, in between their trip to the coast and San Antonio. Now, a couple of rocking chairs were on the wrap-around porch, and a cement cherub shot water into the air from the small water feature next to the walkway between the porch and the street.

As I pulled into the drive, Sam said, “I hope the pictures do it justice. Grant had nothing but nice things to say about it.

I parked the SUV along the drive, a few feet from one of three garage doors along the side of the house, and climbed from the driver’s side. My bones ached. Over the past five months, this had been the longest Sam let me drive, and I felt every hour behind the wheel as I stretched.

Sam came around the front of the SUV and hugged me. My eyes could almost see over the top of her head. Slow and steady seemed to be the way my body wanted to grow, and I had added another inch in height since the start of the summer. My hands roamed her back. The angles and ridges of her shoulder blades were now familiar territory, and she sighed as her hands slid along the outside of the t-shirt I wore.

Finally, when chill bumps covered my exposed skin, I said, “Let’s go check it out. It’ll be nice to have a place of our own to crash at between trips.”

As I took Sam’s hand and we walked toward the back of the house, I found myself agreeing with her. Even though we had more fun than I’d ever had in my life, every place we had stayed had just been a condo rental or hotel room. San Antonio had been fun. We had visited the amusement park and SeaWorld and just about every authentic Mexican restaurant in the city over our month’s stay. Anaheim had been cool. The weather at Disney Land had been just about perfect. And nobody had batted an eye at what appeared two teens in love, as we rode every ride and saw every show. But after a week, we’d seen what we wanted to see and done what we wanted to do.

From California, we had driven up the coastal highway, all the way to Seattle. We saw what we wanted to see, and grew even closer as boyfriend and girlfriend, driving back through Oregon, Idaho, and Montana, where we stayed a couple of weeks at Yellowstone during the height of the summer season. After that, we spent some time in Vegas. We stayed clear of the casinos. After all, to the rest of the world, we were a teenaged couple in love.

Say what you will of Vegas, even without the casinos, there was plenty to do. We took a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon, watched more shows than I can remember over the time we stayed there. But even as the weeks came and went, it wasn’t home. And all the money in our bank account would not make it so. By the end of September, we needed a break from traveling. And that’s how I found myself holding Sam’s hand as she slid the key into the back door of our home outside of Texarkana.

Once past the French doors, we stood in a dining room. The table in the middle of the room wasn’t big. It hardly needed to be; A set of four chairs fit comfortably around it—two more than we needed. The walls were a pleasing shade of pastel yellow. It was warm and inviting.

Sam gushed, “Oh, this is nice, Robin. It’s just the way I imagined it.”

She pulled me through the kitchen. The appliances were all black, which complimented the cherry finish on the cabinetry and the dark marble countertops. Sam let go my hand and ran her fingers along the polished marble, “Shame I’m not a better cook, Robin. This is so much bigger than the kitchen in the trailer.”

It had been a while since Sam brought up Earl. Whatever had become of him, neither of us cared. Still, we had spent years of our lives under his roof, and the kitchen in the trailer had been tiny compared to this one.

I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her stomach and pulled her into a hug, “Maybe we can learn together. I fix some killer Pop Tarts.”

Chuckling, she turned around and tilted her head slightly as her lips found mine. The familiarity and rightness of her tongue in my mouth made it easy to think of Sam as only my girlfriend. Ours hadn’t been a relationship defined as mother and son for months now, and I think Sam liked it as much as I did.

When she broke off the kiss, Sam grabbed my hand, “Let’s see the rest of the house.”

We trekked back through the dining room and through another door. The den was huge; a fireplace in one corner was encased in white Texas sandstone. Over it hung a painting of an old West cattle drive. Mom had pitched a fit when Grand and I had suggested mounting a deer head over the fireplace. We compromised with artwork that still exuded the old west theme captured by the ranch-style house’s design.

A flat screen TV covered the better half of one wall. It was easily ninety inches wide. It faced a plush leather sofa. I could almost imagine crashing on the sofa while watching some movie on the gigantic screen. Sam took in the room, “Thank God I talked you out of that ghastly deer head. It would have felt like something was staring at us had you put it up in here.”

There was a living room and a foyer at the front of the house. I didn’t really understand the purpose of the living room. It held similar furniture to the living room, but no TV. Grant had told me sometimes you just needed a room where the guests you didn’t really want wandering around your house to stay. That’s what a living room is for.

After checking out a few bedrooms, one of which was ostensibly my own, down a hallway on one end of the house, Sam and I eventually found the master bedroom. There was a massive king-size bed along one wall, a walk-in closet along another, and the master bath along a third. Sam stood in the bathroom’s doorway. The look on her face was priceless.

I stood behind her and rested my head next to hers, “What’cha think?”

She gushed, “It’s perfect, Robin. Just like I imagined it.”

A grin split my face, almost from ear to ear. Grant and I had spent a lot of time going back and forth over what Sam wanted. In the end, a contractor had come out and put an addition to the house to accommodate the changes. Seeing the look on her face made all the effort and expense worthwhile. The tub was recessed into the foundation and encased in marble. There was a seat that ran along the inside, all the way around the tub, and whirlpool nozzles built into the tub at regular intervals. I couldn’t decide if it was the largest bathtub I’d ever seen, or the smallest swimming pool. As if anything else was necessary, the remodelers built a gas fireplace into the wall on the far side.

A walk-in shower stood next to the tub. Poured marble walls formed two of the sides. A third was glass, and the fourth was a glass door. A huge rainfall showerhead was fixed to the ceiling. Along the wall, closest to the bedroom, was a vanity mirror, running from countertop to ceiling. Sam didn’t spend tons of time on her appearance, but all the things she needed were stored in the drawers under the marble countertop.

Sam gripped my arm, “Damn, Robin, this is incredible. I could practically live in the bathroom.”

The worry I had felt that it might not be exactly what she wanted washed away. I happily sighed, “I was kinda worried. Now that we’ve taken the grand tour, what do you want to do?”

Sam gave me an appraising eye and pulled me back into the master bedroom. She pushed me until my butt hit the side of the bed. “What I’ve wanted since waking up this morning. You.”

She grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my head. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror over a chest of drawers on one wall. Sure, since winning the lottery, I had grown a bit, but to my uncritical eye, I was still the same skinny boy. My face was smooth and unlined; I had yet to develop the sharp angles that usually came with adolescence. My shoulders were still narrow, scarcely any wider than my hips.

Sam didn’t care about that. Her fingers undid the button above my zipper and worked the zipper down. With hunger in her eyes, she slid my pants down, where they bunched at my ankles. Gone was any embarrassment at Sam seeing the bulge of my erection in my immodest bikini briefs. She grabbed the front of my briefs and pulled them down, freeing my stiffy.

Now that I was thirteen, my erection had almost kept up with my height. Sam gripped my five inches, “Every time I see you like this, I can’t believe you’re mine. I love you, Robin and I’m so glad you want me too.”

She released my shaft and ran her fingers along my silky-smooth pubic area. Over the past couple of months, a few lone strands of pubic hair, barely any darker than the blond on my head, had come in. But Sam liked me smooth, the same way I liked her, and she enjoyed searching them out and tweezing them.

I stepped out of my pants. Now it was my turn. My fingers were sure and confident as I unbuttoned Sam’s blouse. I knew her body as well as I knew my own. Once unbuttoned, I pushed the blouse over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She hadn’t worn a bra. Her tits, small and well formed, bounced in front of me and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned down and kissed a nipple, feeling it grow hard between my lips. My tongue lapped at it until Sam pushed my head away, “Finish undressing me. I need you in me now.”

I was Sam’s willing slave. My fingers made quick work of her zipper and pushed her pants to her ankles. She picked up one foot, and I pulled her pants leg off. Then the other foot, and she was in nothing but a small pair of pink panties with tiny red hearts scattered across the small triangle of fabric covering her pussy. I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled them down, exposing Sam’s smoothly shaven pubic mound. My erection twitched at the sight and she pushed me back against the bed until I fell backward.

Sam crawled onto the bed beside me and grabbed my stiffy, “How’s this for a house warming party?”

My voice trembled with excitement, “I like it. So, you okay staying here for a while?”

She leaned over me; hot breath on my glans sent a shiver through me as she said, “Yeah. Traveling around, even when we’re seeing new things, gets tiring sometimes.”

Her tongue touched my helmet shaped glans, and I gasped at the pleasurable heat. Her lips slid over my tip and her tongue played with my piss-slit, making my entire shaft tingle. A few heartbeats later her lips slid down my shaft, first sliding over the coarse skin of my circumcision scar and then, lower, sliding down until she had taken in most of me. She stopped when I touched the back of her throat. I was almost an inch shorter the first time she took my penis into her mouth. Back then, she could take all of me into her mouth. But now I was longer and her gag reflex kicked in if she tried taking me down her throat.

She held the base of my erection and bobbed up and down, her lips gliding over my shaft. Every time she came up, she stopped when her lips reached the flare of my glans. Her tongue never stopped working. It didn’t matter if she was going down or coming up, her tongue teased more intense tingles than if she had only used her lips. I could never grow tired of this, even as my eyes closed and basked in the joy of the moment. I was the luckiest boy in the world to have Sam in my life. She loved my body every bit as much as I loved hers.

I groaned wordlessly as the tingling in my shaft grew more intense. Sam’s fingers gripped the base of my penis and her lips pushed against her fingers and she sucked on me; she could tell I was close to cumming.

Sam’s tongue slid along the underside of my penis, sending me into sensory overload. My balls constricted and a surge like electricity shot through me, traveling from the tip of my stiffy all the way to my brain. Fireworks went off in my head as my five inches swelled in Sam’s mouth and I spasmed. The first blast of my thickening semen hit the back of her throat, and she sucked even harder. A second blast slid down her throat, followed by a third.

My balls were empty, but my dick kept kicking about in Sam’s mouth through a few more dry spasms. When she had drained me, Sam pulled back and kissed me. Her kiss tasted like my cum; mostly salty with just a tinge of bitterness. That had been a change over the past half-year. The first time she had blown me and then kissed me, I had tasted more sweet than salty. Of course, now, my cum was milky white instead of clear and watery.

Sam broke the kiss and said, “Now that you’ve had your fun, it’s my turn.”

She straddled my waist and took hold of me again as she slid my still sensitive head through the wet head of her slit. Even though my glans tingled with penetrating pleasure, I had just cum. It would be a while before I could shoot again. Sam knew this and as she slid down on me, she growled, “I’m going to fuck your brains out, Robin.”

I reached out my hands and caressed her breasts as I closed my eyes from the incredible feeling throughout my erection. Sam found a practiced rhythm, her knees and hips working together, to lift her up, but not so high as to have me slide out, before crashing against my groin with a wet plop.

With my eyes closed, enjoying the feeling surging through me, I felt Sam’s first orgasm. It arrived with a shudder as her pussy undulated and convulsed around my shaft. One thing I liked about making love to her was the number of times she could cum.

Sam had incredible stamina. I’ve felt her thighs before and there’s a lot of muscle on them. Riding me like she did only helped build up her endurance. She came a half-dozen times before I felt my balls start to boil again. My dick had never stopped tingling like it was close to orgasm. So, when my balls boiled, there wasn’t much warning before they constricted.

I moaned, “Ah, fuck!” as my penis surged within Sam. My stiffy kicked and spasmed, shooting my fresh seed deep within her at the same time her body shook with her most intense orgasm yet. I was still spasming when she fell against me, her breasts pushing against my chest, and her head resting against my shoulder.

Her voice was raw and low, “I love you, Robin. It feels great doing this in our own bed.”

My eyes fluttered open; I was still in my post orgasm high. Sex with Sam was amazing, no matter where it happened. But she was right. It felt doubly good knowing we were home.

Copyright 2021 – Caliboy1991
All rights reserved