This Friend of the Son of a Neighbor Became More than a Friend

We had two other couples coming to visit over Memorial Day weekend, so I took an extra day off work to get the house ready. Since my husband was working late, when I’d put in a full day’s work around the house I slipped out to a favorite neighborhood joint for dinner, and there ran into our neighbors’ son Brett, just home from his junior year of college. I accepted his invitation to join him at his table, where he introduced me to two college friends he’d brought home with him, Clark and Mason.

I felt a little out of place at first, but the boys were all polite and soon made me feel at ease, and they were more up on current events and more interesting to talk to than a lot of adults I know. Brett insisted on buying my dinner, so I thanked him and promised to get even over the weekend.

The next day I shopped for food and liquid refreshments and finally had things ready for our guests, who arrived on schedule, and we had a great time. On Sunday I had Dan, my husband, go over to Brett’s house to invite him and his friends over for our cookout. On his return, he reported that the fellows were coming but that Brett’s friend Clark would have to leave as soon as we ate, being in a bind because his summer job had fallen through (the company went under) and he had four days to find another job or he might not be able to pay for his senior year.

I was startled to learn that Dan actually knew Clark’s father, who’s a customer of his. Dan reminded me that I’d been talking about hiring a personal assistant for the summer and said that hiring Clark wouldn’t hurt him with his dad. It worked for me. When the guys arrived I made the offer. Clark was thrilled; he promptly called his parents to tell them.

On the job Clark proved eager and smart, following instructions to the letter and learning so rapidly that in a week or two he was handling most of his work with little assistance. He brought everything he did in for my approval and always stood by my left shoulder while I looked it over and made any corrections needed.

One day Dan happened to stop in while we were doing this, and that night in bed he asked if Clark got a boner every time he got a peek at my tits. I told him he was crazy, but he said, “I know what I saw, sweetie.” That night he gave me an enthusiastic fucking, saying that at that moment Clark was probably jerking off while thinking about me.

The next day in the office I wore an outfit that looked demure, but from above you could see my nipples resting above my half-cup bra. By the end of the day I knew Dan was right. I suspected that Clark was jerking off in the bathroom to keep from coming in his pants.

I had a business trip coming up and told Clark I’d need him to go to San Diego for two weeks. He seemed glum until I told him that our flight left at one on Sunday and I’d pick him up at eleven to drive to the airport. (I had already booked his flights and changed my hotel reservation to a two-bedroom suite.) I put off telling Dan, expecting sarcasm from him, which I got. “I’m sure he’ll be a big help,” he said. Again that night he was even more energetic than usual.

When we arrived at our hotel in San Diego, I still hadn’t told Clark about the accommodations I booked. When the bellman took us to the same room, he was trembling and sweating. I suggested we order room service so we could unpack and relax, then eat and get to bed early. While we waited for delivery, we went to our bedrooms. I waited until I heard the waiter come and depart before emerging in a short white robe. All through dinner, every time I got a glimpse of Clark’s tennis shorts, they had a tall tent.

Eventually the time for playing stopped. I wasn’t going to waste this opportunity on teasing. I pretended to be more inebriated than I was, and once when I went to the bathroom I returned without the little robe. He took one look, turned red, and started spluttering.

“I’m sorry, Clark,” I said. “Am I being too forward?”

I couldn’t believe how quickly he recovered. In a flash he had me in his arms and was kissing me with all the urgency of a young man who’d gone too long without a woman. I had to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him back, pressing my petite body (I’m only five-two) against his rugged six-foot, 180-pound frame. His hands were all over me, caressing and fondling as tenderly but also as erotically as any man had ever done. This boy clearly wasn’t inexperienced!

I loved the way his fingers teased the crease below my buttocks and tickled the cleft between, instead of trying to get a finger in my cunt or ass. After our lips parted, he held me tightly. I looked up in his eyes and said, “Take me to bed and fuck me right now, Clark—and God, would you please just call me Jenny?”

He smiled broadly, kissed me tenderly, and then excitedly said, “Would you like to see my room, Jenny?”

I sat on the turned-down bed while he struggled to get those tennis shorts off over his raging erection. When I finally got to see the head of his cock, it was oozing precome. He was fully hard; I’d say a good seven inches. I leaned forward to lick the fluid off, and his cock jerked. I drew him down on the bed, and then slowly took him deep in my throat.

I could have gotten him off in seconds, but I prolonged the pleasure by squeezing the base of his organ whenever he was about to come. When my jaw began to ache, after five or six minutes, I took him to oral heaven. He gushed a dozen spurts down my throat while holding my face to his groin until he was drained and totally limp.

When he began apologizing for coming in my mouth, I pressed my lips to his and after a passionate kiss told him no apology was necessary. While we cuddled, he got acquainted with the breasts he’d been sneaking peeks at the last month. His mouth darted from one nipple to the other, sending hot flashes to my already-excited pussy.

It wasn’t long before I felt his cock stiffen and press against my thigh. I expected him to mount me. Instead his lips moved slowly downward until his face was nuzzling my bush. When he nudged my legs apart, I opened them wide to give him easy access. I couldn’t suppress a moan when his tongue split my labia, then licked the full length of my vulva before drawing circles all around my swollen clit, driving me wild.

He broke contact with my genitals until my nerves calmed. I marveled at his knowledge of the female body. When I next felt his hot tongue, it was exploring my fleshy folds while avoiding my still-throbbing clit, until I was once again teetering on the edge.

His hot tongue probed gently around the entrance of my vagina, slipping into it several times before he mounted me in one graceful move, his cock finding my entrance with pinpoint accuracy and in one swift thrust plunging in as deep as it could reach. He looked down and met my eyes, and we savored those first moments of intimacy.

Putting his lips to my ear, he asked if I was on the Pill or should he withdraw before ejaculating? I kissed him before replying, “Sweet of you to ask, but like the saying goes, ‘Older women don’t tell, and they don’t swell.’ I can’t get pregnant.”

Clark showed as much skill fucking as he did in foreplay. He began thrusting his cock slow and easy, dragging the upper side back and forth over my swollen clit continually, getting me incredibly worked up. He shifted to ease the pressure on my clit but kept thrusting into me. When my breathing leveled out, he shifted gears, giving me several minutes of brisk missionary-position fucking. When a woman’s been in a long-term relationship, she forgets how deliciously hard a young man’s erection can be.

Abruptly, he stopped, saying, “Don’t move for a minute. I’m about to lose control. I want this to last all night.”

A couple of minutes later he began to move again. I said, “I’d like you to paint the walls of my love chamber with your hot come now.”

The next five minutes were incredible. My knees were touching my shoulders, putting my cunt in position to be ravaged. We fucked like bunnies in heat until we both exploded, then stayed united until his softened cock slipped out of me, coming to rest against my tingling asshole.

That’s pretty much how we spent every spare minute of our time in San Diego. I was proud of myself for actually getting any work done, but I am pretty strict about not letting “fun” get in the way of my responsibilities.

When I got home, my husband, who isn’t dumb, knew that my pussy had been ridden, and ridden hard. He knows about my “indiscretions,” obviously—remember, he’s the one who first realized that Clark had the hots for me, and if anything, he was more excited about it. He prefers not to talk about it, although he knows that we both know he knows. In the end, he gets all the ass he wants.

I stayed in touch with Clark through his last year in college and as graduation approached offered him a job. He thanked me but said he’d gotten “a better offer”!

I like to think he didn’t mean “better in bed.”

—J.L., Albuquerque, New Mexico