06/06/2016 04:10 in interracial
My name is Suzanne and I am a wife, a mother, and sex addict. My husband Rob doesn't know, and I'll never tell. I successfully hid my shameful secret from my daughter Justine until recently. The day she found out was the most humiliating day of my life.
I've always loved giving blowjobs to other men. Men other than my husband. Strangers, mostly. It's easier with a stranger. For one thing, they can never tell my husband because they don't even know who I am. I love the anonymity, the rush I feel, offering some unknown man an incognito blowjob when I don't even know his name. We haven't met before and may never meet again, but here I am giving him the ultimate illicit sexual thrill: oral sex with a complete stranger. I love sucking cock. I don't care whose cock it is. I can never get enough dick in my mouth or swallow enough cum.
A couple of years ago I became terribly worried and anxious about my sexual obsessions. I asked myself whether there might be something seriously wrong with me. I developed a morbid fear that my husband and daughter would find out the truth about my secret life.
I began seeing a psychiatrist. A male psychiatrist. You can guess what happened. By the third session, he was the one lying down on the couch and "unburdening" himself. Aside from that, he told me the reasons I act the way I do. First of all, I do in fact suffer from a condition known as sexual addiction. That means I crave the excitement of furtive, anonymous or high-risk sex with multiple partners. As a middle-aged woman using a computer, I am a member of a group that is at highest risk for developing a sexual addiction. Duh! Tell me something I don't know. The computer was the diabolical device that got me into this mess in the first place. Secondly, I obsess about sex day and night. Arousal is habit-forming. Left unchecked, it builds and builds until you feel like you have to have a sexual release right now or die. That's when the trouble starts.
Here's an example of what I'm talking about. It was my first time cheating on my husband Rob. My old job as a secretary in a high school guidance office required me to use a computer all day long. When I got bored and no one was looking I liked cruising the Internet now and then. That's when computers first got me in trouble.
Even though I was forty-one years old and married to my husband at the time, there was this one boy, a student in the vocational program at our high school. May I confess something to you? I secretly had a crush on ever since I first got a look at him in person. His name was Jerell. He was a black boy and talk about handsome! He was tall, with a thin muscular build and a simply fabulous ass! The ever-present bulge in his jeans drove me to distraction! In checking Jerell's school records on my computer I discovered that even though he was only a junior in high school he had just turned eighteen. My excitement multiplied! This boy was available, and not jailbait!
When no one was looking I went on social media and searched for Jerell's name. My desk faces the other secretaries so they couldn't view my my monitor screen unless they stood up, walked over and stood behind me, which should give me plenty of time to minimize the Jerell image I was about to view, before any of my coworkers on my team could catch me viewing him.
I clicked on his name and there he was! I was thrilled to discover that under Relationship Status he'd typed in "horney." His spelling may have shown room for improvement, but it wasn't his spelling I was dreaming about as I gazed at his profile pic showing him shirtless and flexing. He was almost coal-black and sweaty, grinning out at me, daring me to make him my own personal Mandingo superman. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then loosened my skirt band behind my desk. I slipped my middle and ring fingers inside my panties and began fingering my pussy as I fantasized about Jerell and me.
It felt sooo good, playing with my pussy lips as I sat behind my desk pretending to work. If my husband and daughter could only see me now! As I played with myself I daydreamed about what Jerell's cock would be like. How long would it be? Would it hang halfway to his knees once he peeled down his thong underwear and let it dangle for me, for the first time? Do you suppose he was uncircumcised? I had never even seen an uncircumcised cock in my life. My husband is cut and only average sized. When Jerell got hard for me, assuming he was uncut, what would happen to his foreskin? Would it get bigger, too? Taut as a thick rubber band? Would sucking and fucking Jerell's uncut cock be as dreamy as I visualized it to be? Would the intense thrill of an hour spent in bed with Jerell be worth risking all that I had with my husband and daughter?
I was becoming super wet masturbating and thinking about Jerell. My panties were soaked and my rampaging pussy juices had even caused a wet spot on the back of my skirt. I'd have to make sure I kept sitting here through lunch or one of the other secretaries would discover my naughty secret. Suddenly I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Mr. Dahr, the school superintendent and our boss, glaring at me. He could clearly see exactly what I was doing. Not only that, he could see that I was looking at a student's picture while I was doing it.
"Ms. Anderson," he said sternly, "My office. Now."
Mortified, and placing my hand behind me in an attempt to conceal the spreading stain of pussy juice that had formed a Rorschach pattern on my ass, I followed him into his office. He shut the door behind me and told me to sit down.
"I'm surprised at you, Ms. Anderson," he began. "As I'm sure you are aware, we endeavor to maintain the highest standards of decorum at Rutherford B. Hayes High School. Particularly is this true with regard to the sensitive issue of staff interrelationships with our student body. I think you know what I mean."
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Dahr, sir!"
"Even the slightest suggestion of an improper interest on the part of a staff member is grounds for immediate termination. As a mere secretary, you have no tenure or contract rights. In short, I have the power to fire you on the spot. Do you understand, Ms. Anderson?"
"I don't know what came over me, sir. It will never happen again, I assure you."
Mr. Dahr settled back in his chair. His glasses slid down his nose. He peered over them at me. "I didn't demand of you that it will never happen again," he said in a strange tone.
Mr. Dahr's face wore an expression of carnal lust. "No, Ms. Anderson, my demand is not as all-encompassing as you may have surmised. My demand is simply this: that in the future, you confine yourself to doing it...with me." He stood. While we'd been speaking he'd unzipped his pants and unfastened his belt. There he stood, smiling behind his desk, with his cock exposed in full view, playing with it.
What would you have done? With two mortgages and a daughter about to enter college next year, we needed me to hold onto that job, and secretarial positions were hard to find in this economy, especially for a forty-one-year-old woman who'd just been fired from her last job for lusting after a student and masturbating on duty. The way I looked at things then, the decision had already been made for me.
Nervously, I asked him, "What do you want me to do, Mr. Dahr?"
"What do I want you to do, Ms. Anderson? You have posed a fascinating and provocative question, and I'm not sure I know the correct answer. By that I mean, there is an entire range of interesting activity I would love to share with you. Adult activity, shall we say? I foresee any number of future encounters of an adult nature between us. What I am having difficulty deciding is: which activity should be the very first? You see, I anticipate a long and rewarding association between the two of us. Without our respective spouses' knowledge, it goes without saying." He then sat down and stared at my breasts for a full minute without saying anything. After a long and uncomfortable silence he snapped his fingers and said, "Eureka! I have it!"
"What's that, sir?"
"Let's have a strip tease! The very thing to provide a midmorning pick-me-up! Stand for me, please, Ms. Anderson. You may feel free to move about the room while you perform an enticing strip for me, at the conclusion of which you are to masturbate from a floor position, spreading your legs so as to provide me with a full open view. After that we shall use our imaginations. I believe I may have some appropriate music on hand for you to dance to."
He rose, crossed the room and locked the door. He selected a CD and placed it in a player beside his desk. He sat down again. This time I could see him remove his pants and shorts and sit there with his cock hanging out. Soon the familiar brass opening to Joe Cocker's You Can Leave Your Hat On began to play. Mr. Dahr kept the volume low so as not to alert the others and cause interruptions. We were going to be alone for my entire striptease show.
I felt embarrassed to be doing this in front of my boss, but after all, he was the one forcing me to do it. I'd never even done a striptease for my husband, let alone a man I wasn't married to.
I began striding around the room, taking its measure as though it were a stage, making it my own. As I strode past him I paused and let him see me fiddling with the buttons of my blouse, undoing them one by one. When the last one was unfastened, I faced Mr. Dahr full-on and threw open my blouse to reveal my black lace bra underneath. I heard him gasp. His cock was already getting hard. It was a big one, which surprised me for some reason. I guess I'd never imagined Mr. Dahr as even having a cock, let alone that thick eight-inch thing hanging between his legs. No wonder he was horny!
Gyrating with my back to him, I offered the rear closure of my bra for him to unhook. He fumbled with it like a teenage boy. Finally he got it. As soon as he did, I sprang away before he could touch me and danced with my back to him, gradually sliding my bra straps down until they hung loose. Then, at a certain point in the song, I twirled around quickly to face Mr. Dahr and dropped my bra, covering my bare breasts as best I could with my hands. He masturbated furiously at the sight of me topless. I saw him pulling the skin of his hard cock, making it harder. M breasts were still cupped in my hands. Then, with what I hoped was a shy smile, I leisurely slipped my hands away, exhibiting my bare breasts to my boss. His mouth was hanging open and he was panting like a dog by this time. He was still masturbating.
For some reason I didn't want Mr. Dahr to cum yet, so I interrupted his jacking off. Here's how I did it: I took his hands in mine and guided them to my breasts. He started massaging me there with his palms, and I have to tell you, it felt really great! And not only physically; I was beginning to notice something else, a totally new and unfamiliar passion welling up inside me. I felt a deep and visceral thrill that emanated from my giving myself to this man simply because he wanted me, from abandoning myself to utterly sluttish behavior, from breaking a strict taboo that had hemmed me in all my life until this very moment.
And his breast massage was giving me another naughty idea. I smiled at him, knelt between his legs and began sucking his erect cock! Mr. Dahr sighed, then moaned. I engulfed his entire penis in my mouth and sucked hard, as though trying to draw the semen out of him like sucking on a big long straw. He moaned louder this time. A moment later I felt his cum shoot into my mouth. It didn't taste like anything, really: maybe school paste if I had to come up with a comparison, only slippery like a lubricant, all cum in my mouth.
What to do with the cum? Mr. Dahr certainly wasn't offering any suggestions. Instead he was looking at the clock as he slid his shorts back on, hitched up and and zipped pants. A person walking in on us at that moment wouldn't have been able to tell that anything had happened between us, but for the fact that I was still kneeling there naked with a fresh load of my boss's cum in my mouth.
I swallowed it down. It didn't faze me nearly as much as I thought it might. In fact, it seemed the easiest way to get rid of the stuff was to swallow it.
Mr. Dahr glowered down at me. "Get your things back on, Ms. Anderson," he said curtly. "You're fired!"
I stared at him with astonishment! He couldn't be serious! Surely he wasn't going to go through with firing me after all I'd been forced to do!
But fire me he did. Twenty minutes later I was walking through the main hallway toward the parking lot carrying my work stuff in a banker's box. Who should I encounter there, favoring us by arriving at school just in time for lunch period, but Jerell? "Hi Jerell," I said boldly as I approached him.
"Do I know you?" Jerell asked quizzically.
I'm Mrs. Anderson," I said in a cheery tone. "Suzanne Anderson, from the guidance office." I set the box down and offered him my hand. He took it, not seeming to know what to do with it. This young man badly needed schooling in the social graces. But my, oh, my, was he a healthy specimen of male pulchritude! "Would you mind giving me a little help here, Jerell? How about being a dear and carrying this box out to my car for me?"
Long story short: he did, and I fucked him in the back seat of my car, right there in the school parking lot. When it was over (and he was goood, let me tell you, better even than I'd imagined he'd be) I asked him for his cell number. To my utter shock and disbelief he wouldn't give it to me!
"It's like, I dig what we done an' shit, but, see, I got me this lady friend? Her and me, we kinda tight. She get all jealous and shit, see? It's like, she don' wan' me hittin' it wi' no side bitches. So even though you hot, for an older white lady, I can' be givin' out my 411 to no side bitches."
I flinched. Had Jerell just called me a "side bitch," moments after we'd made love? (I was so self-deluded back then I really thought of it as "making love.") And what was that other thing he'd called me? An "older white lady?" After he'd stuck his dick in me? After I'd taken his cum on my face when he decided to pull out prematurely and give me a facial, just like he'd probably seen in some cheap porno movie?
I gave him my number anyway, writing it down in big block numbers on the back of one of my husband's business cards I found lying in the cup holder of my car. Jerell took it reluctantly, as though I'd handed him his report card. I thought he'd probably just throw it away as soon as I drove out of sight. Jerell surprised me again when he called later that day. I was even more surprised when I heard him tell me what he had in mind.
"See, me and my homies be kickin' it down at the trap," he began, "and we need us some fine pussy. What you say?" Propositions don't get much more direct than that. Leave it to a teenager to cut right to the chase. I had just received an invitation to a gang bang!
I was a little bit ashamed of myself when I answered yes. Jerell gave me the address. It was in one of the roughest areas of East St. Louis, in a crime-ridden and drug-infested wreck of a neighborhood. I knew I was taking a considerable big risk going down there alone to meet Jerell and his buddies, but the temptation was too great for me to resist.
I know what you're probably thinking. What was she thinking, going down to a notoriously high-crime area to meet a gang of black teenagers for group sex? It's a question I have often asked myself each time I voluntarily put myself in harm's way in one risky situation after another, for illicit sex. The psychiatrist I was seeing told me, before and after I gave him blowjobs and hand jobs on his patient couch, that the answer is buried somewhere in my childhood. He tried hypnotic regression, but when he implanted a post-hypnotic suggestion in my subconscious mind, all it did was place me even more in thrall sexually, to him and every other man I met. This thing with the black gangbangers, though, marked a new low for me.
Jerell's records at school listed his residence as being in our district (he claimed to live with an aunt), but his real home was probably in East St. Louis, one of the most economically devastated areas in the country. Impoverished blacks in East St. Louis often faked guardianships to get their underprivileged children into school in our district.
The address he had given me turned out to be a burned-out storefront next to a vacant lot that was used as a trash dump. The building was covered with gang graffiti. Several young men with their arms crossed loitered outside the building as I parked my car and approached. All eyes were on me as I walked up and asked the least intimidating-looking one, "I'm looking for Jerell. He invited me?"
"You the chicken haid?" one of them asked insolently.
"I'm sorry," I said, "but I don't know what that means."
"Means yo haid be bobbin like a chicken's when you givin' us all haid." They all laughed.
"Oh, head!" I exclaimed, adding, "I'm sorry, I didn't understand what you were saying at first. Why, yes, I suppose I could give you head, if that's what you want." I have to admit I was a little bit afraid and intimidated by their fierce appearance and somewhat put off by their threatening demeanor, but I figured, where's the harm? They're only teenagers, probably the same age as Justine, my daughter, although from much more underprivileged circumstances. And to be perfectly honest, I was intrigued and turned on by the prospect of my giving fellatio to a group of young black men. I'd never done anything like that before and found the idea intensely arousing. It would take a good psychiatrist to tell you why. If you know of one, let me know. All mine wants to do is make me give him oral sex.
"Shall we go inside?" I suggested. "Is this like your clubhouse or something? Your hangout?"
"Suffin' like 'at."
"Well, isn't anyone going to invite me in, then?" I asked in a flirtatious tone. "I am your guest, after all."
Jerell emerged from inside the ruined building, kicking aside some charred debris. Without a word he gestured for me to come inside. I followed his beckoning arm into the near-darkness. The others tagged close behind.
A battery-powered lantern provided the only light, other than the hole where a portion of the roof had burned through in the center of the building, which formed a makeshift skylight. At four in the afternoon it was all the light we needed. Jerell led me to a filthy mattress lying on the bare floor. The mattress was covered with a torn bedspread with holes in it from cigarette burns. A young black woman sat on a stack of wooden pallets staring at us. She had buck teeth and wore thick glasses with black frames.
And who might you be?" I asked her pleasantly.
"Shut yo mouf, bitch!" she said. "Don' be axin' me no questions."
"Very well," I replied coldly, put off by her rudeness.
Jerell reached over and backhanded the girl across the mouth. The slap resounded in the hollow shell of the building. "She be Charlonda," he told me. "Charlonda here to watch an' learn how to fuck and suck. Ain' 'at right, Charlonda?"
Charlonda thrust out her lower lip and pouted.
Jerell repeated himself, louder this time: "Ain' 'at right, Charlonda?" He raised a fist to her this time but she never flinched.
"As' right," she muttered, glaring at Jerell.
Jerell handed me a jug of MD 20/20 the others had been passing around. When I looked at him questioningly, he nodded, wiped off the mouth of the bottle with his palm, and offered it to me again. I drank. I had never drunk Mad Dog before. It tasted fruity and sweet, with an overpowering undertone of cheap alcohol. A few sips of this and a girl would be ready for anything. I was so nervous I must have drunk half the bottle while the young men circled around staring at me lustfully.
"Go 'head," Jerell said to me in a considerably more gentle tone than he'd used on Charlonda.
"Go ahead, what, Jerell?" I was the slightest bit buzzed by then.
"Go 'head and git yo big drunk white ass outta them clothes," he said. "What you think you here for, bitch, a damn fashion show?"
"I'm not at all sure I appreciate your tone, Jerell," I said. "I don't have to take any shit from you. You're the one who invited me here, remember?"
What happened next was fast as lightning. Jerell and two of the others grabbed me by my arms and forced me down onto the mattress. Jerell got me in a choke hold while the others ripped off my blouse and pulled my slacks off. Rough hands jerked at my bra and pawed my breasts. In moments the entire gang had me pinned down naked on the mattress while Charlonda cheered.
All I could manage to say was, "I hope someone brought protection." My remark was greeted by whoops and jeers from the young men and a superior smirk from Charlonda.
Jerell undid his jeans. The others followed suit. Soon I was surrounded by six or eight young well-hung black men with penises exposed. When I tried to protest, Jerell stuck his penis in my mouth. It tasted like sweat. His cock seemed even bigger than I remembered from that afternoon at school, now that he was making me suck it.
The young man closest to the foot of the mattress forced my legs apart. Before I knew what was happening he entered me. He was massively hung and fully erect. I thought I might split from the size of him, and yet his cock felt absolutely yummy going in and out.
Another nude teenager, his body sleek and muscular like an athlete's, his impressive cock jutting out hard, stepped up and whispered something to the other young stud, the one who was fucking me so deliciously. The two of them forcibly rolled me over onto my side on the mattress. I had to twist my neck to keep Jerell's penis in my mouth. Moments later I realized: they were going to try some double penetration on me! Stud number two began pushing the head of his cock against my anus while at the same time stud number one resumed his own divine brand of power fucking. I don't know if any of you girls have attempted anal sex without a lubricant, but let me tell you, it isn't exactly the most comfortable experience, nor is it particularly easy on a woman's asshole. As a matter of fact, it hurts!
Stud number two spat. His aim was good. The spittle hit his cock just right. He tried pushing again and soon he had it all the way in me. That's when, combined with the other young man steadily fucking me, it started to feel good in a deep and animal way, kind of like taking a great big shit.
Jerell was pumping his cock in and out of my mouth, using one hand to jack the shaft. Suddenly he groaned. I tasted something like egg white in my mouth. A lot of egg white.
As soon as Jerell withdrew, another young man swaggered up and offered me his cock to be sucked. I obliged him, giving him an enthusiastic blowjob. Two or three minutes later, he came in my mouth. I smiled up at him, more to let his and Jerell's cum run out of my mouth than anything else. He took his cock and slapped my face with it twice. Then he wagged it close to my mouth, inviting me to suck on it some more. I did as he wished. As I sucked, I could feel him getting hard again, but this time, instead of a blowjob he wanted a titty fuck.
I squeezed my breasts together around his cock and held them there. He straddled me and pumped away. I knew he was getting close to orgasm from the urgent pattern of his breathing. All of a sudden he came all over my tits. His cum felt sticky and warm on the sensitive skin of my breasts. I made a great show of rubbing it in for him.
Now all the young men crowded around me jacking their cocks. Maybe it's because I was a little bit drunk at the time, but for whatever reason I reveled in being the central focus of all that male attention. I stretched my arms above my head and luxuriated on the filthy mattress, rolling from side to side like a playful alley cat, alternating from cock to cock, giving hand jobs and blowjobs with complete abandon. Soon my face and upper body were covered in cum.
That's when Jerell called Charlonda over. "Lick up all 'at nasty shit," he ordered her.
"You heard me," Jerell said in a distinctly menacing tone. "Lick it up, you wanna be my bottom bitch."
And so Charlonda did just that, albeit reluctantly at first. Her warm slick tongue felt soothing as she lapped first at my breasts (focusing on my nipples) and then on my face. The intimacy of another woman licking cum from my body gave me a new high in sexual arousal. I wanted to have Charlonda, make love to her for hours on end.
But first I had to get her alone. Charlonda was licking my closed eyelids, sweeping away the cum. The others were watching and talking among themselves, giving us an occasional grossed-out jeer whenever Charlonda's tender ministrations came close to offending their delicate sensibilities.
"Charlonda," I whispered softly in her ear, "let's get away, just the two of us."
Charlonda opened one gimlet eye and stared into mine. She hadn't taken off her glasses. They were smeared with cum.
"I want to make love to you," I whispered to her, giving her what I meant to be a sly smile.
Charlonda recoiled. Jerking her body away from me she called out to everyone, "Bitch say she wan' 'get away.' Granny here say she wan' her an' me to 'make love.' Ain' that some nasty shit?" She laughed incredulously, seeming to urge the others to join in."
Jerell took one step closer. "Wha' the fuck you say to Charlonda, bitch?" he demanded. "You tryna turn my bottom bitch out?"
"Freak white ho muthafucka, you bes' get yo saggy baggy titties and yo ol' funk white ass on out the trap afo I kick it, bitch!" Jerell made what I can best characterize as a pugilistic move towards me.
I was terrified. The only thought I had was to get out of there, and fast. Grabbing my purse and leaving my clothes behind, I ran out into the street and down the block naked, fumbling for my car keys. I didn't dare look back until I reached my car, for fear they were chasing me!
I went to unlock the driver's side door. Someone had drilled the lock! Where the door lock cylinder had been there was now only a gaping hole! I yanked at the door handle but it wouldn't open! The lock was jammed!
I raced around to the passenger side. Luckily that one had not been drilled. I threw open the door, slammed it closed behind me, and punched the lock. Scooting over into the driver's seat, I turned over the ignition and gunned the engine.
Jerell and the others were nowhere in sight. I floored it anyway, squealing the tires (for the first time in my life) and sped down the street and out of East St. Louis, running every stop sign and ignoring every traffic light. All I wanted to do was to get home before Rob and Justine did, take a long hot bath and try to forget this afternoon ever happened.
I was no more than a few blocks from my home when I saw the oscillating red lights flashing in my rear view and heard the siren. I hadn't been minding my speed. In a panic, I glanced down at the panel. I was doing sixty-seven in a quiet residential district.
I slowed my car and pulled over to the curb. The cop sauntered over to my driver's side window. I rolled it down. "License and registr—whoa!" I heard him say when he first caught sight of me nude behind the wheel. He paused to take in a full good look.
"I was gonna write you for excessive speed but it looks like we have us a case of flagrant public indecency here, too. You're in a heap of trouble, lady."
Overcome with panic, my greatest fear was that Rob and Justine would find out everything if I didn't think fast! I said the first thing that popped into my head.
"Officer, I was raped!"
"Somewhere down in East St. Louis. I don't know the address," I lied.
He tilted his cap back, crossed his arms and said, "What the hell were you doing down there?"
"Does it matter? I was raped! Isn't that reason enough to be speeding away? I was terrified they were chasing me!"
"You wanna make a report?" he asked. It seemed obvious he wasn't buying my story.
"No, I'd really rather just try and forget the whole thing."
He exhaled with exasperation. "You say you were raped and now you wanna forget the whole thing happened? What the hell's the matter with you, lady? Are you crazy or something?" Talk about a cop who needed sensitivity training. But I decided to play into it.
"Maybe," I said, going for the dramatic, bringing my hand up to my forehead and tilting my head toward him. "Sometimes I ask myself that very question. I'm seeing a psychiatrist, you know. I've been seeing him for quite a while, actually, exploring problems with my sexuality." I looked him directly in the eye and asked, "Can't we forget about giving me a ticket, just this once, Officer? I'd be eternally grateful."
I could read his dirty mind from the knowing leer that spread across his mouth. "Maybe we could at that. Of course," he added, "I'd need a little something from you in return."
He directed me to a nearby park where I let him in my car and gave him a quick blowjob in the front seat. He came quickly, too quickly for my taste. In moments it was over.
I felt like an absolute dog for doing it, but I couldn't afford to have Rob and Justine find out. And besides, there was that now-familiar naughty thrill, being with another strange man and willingly gratifying his lust. The risk of being caught added to the excitement. In the park, anybody could have walked or driven up and seen me with my head between the cop's legs and his cock in my mouth.
At last I made it home, exhausted yet stimulated by the day's sexual adventures. Good thing we have an attached garage. I opened the door with the clicker and drove inside.
Success! Rob and Justine were not home yet. On the dining room table I made a discovery: Justine had forgotten her house keys again! That girl would forget her head if it wasn't nailed on. To avoid being interrupted in my bath, I left the front door unlocked for her. Then I went to the kitchen. Before going upstairs and enjoying a long, relaxing soak in the sunken tub in our master bath, I wanted a refreshing glass of wine. The MD 20/20 had worn off, leaving me with a slight headache. Wine would be just the thing to dissolve the cares of the day in a luxurious bath.
Fortunately, in the fridge we had a bottle of Tuscan Merlot, already chilled, with my name on it. Listening for the door, I popped the cork, let it breathe for a minute or so, and then poured myself a generous portion into a stemless crystal wine glass. I tasted it—delicious—refilled my glass and carried it upstairs to the master bathroom, bringing the bottle with me.
While the tub filled, I studied my naked self in the full-length mirror, I shook my head in wonderment at all the lines I had crossed today: first time cheating on Rob, striptease for my boss culminating in oral sex with my boss, fucking a student in the high school parking lot, gangbanging with black gangsta thugs in East St. Louis, running naked down those mean streets, driving naked in traffic, getting pulled over by a cop and giving him a blowjob in my car to beat a ticket. It had been a pretty full dance card for a gal who up until that date had done absolutely nothing outside of her marriage.
How would I go about explaining the missing lock in my car door? I'd probably tell Rob it must have happened at the mall and have him turn it in to the insurance.
I tested the waters with my toe. Perfect. I lowered myself gingerly into the tub and flipped on the Jacuzzi jets. I was alone, just me and my wine. I took another generous sip. I closed my eyes and dreamed about the day's events. Some of them were actually quite humiliating. And then I realized: I craved the humiliation! It had served in every instance to enhance the arousal for me, and to intensify mind-blowing orgasms I had experienced with Jerell and his crew. And then a realization struck me like a thunderbolt from the blue. Humiliating or not, I had been the one ultimately in control. Whether threatened, fired, stripped, facialed, anally penetrated or gang raped, my sexual powers as a woman had always dominated every situation. And so, Scarlett O'Hara style, I made this resolution, reclining there in the tub as the imaginary music swelled: from that moment on I pledged that I would never again deny myself any sexual pleasure. I actually said it out loud right there in the master bath, hearing my voice echo off the tiles: "Whether I have to lie, cheat, steal or kill, as God is my witness, I'll never stay horny again!"
Behind me I heard a young male voice sing the GWTW theme, "♫ Dah DAH dah da-ah, dah DAH dah da-ah ♫." I thrashed around in the tub with alarm, twisting to see who was there. Standing in the door to the master bathroom with a sheepish look on his face stood Justine's boyfriend Jim.
I slid down underneath the bubbles and cupped my hands to cover my breasts as best I could. Jim had already gotten a clear view of them buoyed by the water. Mine are what men call "big naturals," meaning they're large but not plastic surgery boobs. My girls sag a bit. Men don't seem to mind. Matter of fact, I was beginning to think that most men prefer my kind of tits to the augmented, store-bought kind. It gave me another dose of that perverse thrill I craved to have my daughter's boyfriend admiring her mother nude.
Justine and Jim had been together since before junior prom. Now, with both of them having just turned eighteen and college-bound, they made an almost perfect couple, although I would have preferred a bit more testosterone where Jim was concerned. What I mean is, Jim is a very nice kid but I'd always considered him a little light in his loafers, a tall, thin boy with an interest in music rather than sports. He was what the kids at school called an "emo," meaning he was what Justine jokingly referred to as the four A's: affecting an attitude of adolescent angst. Emo means an unsmiling expression, nerd glasses, longish hair fringe down in his face, tight alternative rock band shirts and tighter jeans. Jim was wearing the whole emo uniform today, right down to his tight, tight jeans, which displayed his growing appreciation for the undraped female form. In this case, my undraped female form. I decided to try a little teasing and see where it went from there.
"Omigod! Jim! What are you doing here?" I wanted it to sound startled but not shocked enough to scare him away.
He shrugged. "Justine and I had a date to do homework. The door was open, so..." I noted that he kept staring.
"I'm taking a bath, Jim, in case you hadn't noticed. Some things are private, you know?"
He stood there, gawking and blushing, cock bulging in his jeans.
"Is there anything in particular you wanted to say to me, Jim?"
He really began blushing now. "Well, the thing is, Mrs. A..."
"Call me Suzanne, Jim, seeing as how we find ourselves in such intimate surroundings." I showed him a warm smile.
"Well...Suzanne," he began, nearly choking on my name, "I always thought of you as a very attractive woman." More blushing. It was no doubt his very first time complimenting a mature nude woman on her appearance, especially when he'd been dating that mature nude woman's daughter for over a year. His eyes were wide with excitement, nostrils flaring with desire. Maybe I'd underestimated him in the testosterone department.
I wanted to make this moment last, to torture this young man some more before giving him a sexual release. "What a lovely compliment, Jim! But as you can see, I'm in my bath now," I said, adding, "completely nude." I winked at him. Too much? It worked.
He nervously swallowed, twice. I could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he did so. "You look..."
"Words fail you, huh?" I joked. "My beauty overwhelms you, does it?"
"You are beautiful...Suzanne." He came a few steps closer. Close enough for me to reach out and touch him. But not yet. More teasing first.
Gesturing to the bottle beside the tub I said, "Join me in a glass of wine, won't you, Jim? I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to get a glass for yourself from downstairs. I'd offer to go get it for you myself, but as you can see, I'm a tad indisposed."
No response. He just stood there ogling me, unsmiling in his emo way.
"Or I suppose we could share my glass. After all, you're practically family." I picked up my glass and offered it to him. He leaned over and took it.
"Well, bottoms up," I said. I rolled over in the tub and arched my back so that my ass was fully exposed to Jim's view. I heard him gasp.
"Rawr!" he said.
"That's how to say 'I love you' in dinosaur. Rawr!"
"Well, then, Rawr to you, too, Jim. Please don't eat me, mister dinosaur!"
The indecent suggestion seemed to be lost on him. He chugged the rest of my wine from the glass.
"My," I said, "we're certainly thirsty, aren't we?" I sat up, took the glass from him, leaned over the side of the tub and refilled it for him all the way to the brim. When I passed him the glass, my soapy breasts were completely exposed. He reached for the glass with one hand and for my right breast with the other. I let him touch me there as I gazed into his eyes. He became so preoccupied with touching his girlfriend's mother's breast he slopped some of the wine on the tile floor.
"Don't worry," I said in my breathiest sexpot voice, "that'll mop up without leaving a stain. Nobody will even know you were ever here, Jim. It'll be our little secret. Are you good at keeping secrets? I am."
He belted down the wine, draining the glass in moments. He seized me by both breasts, kneading them passionately.
"Whoa there, cowboy," I cautioned playfully. "These tits happen to have a woman attached to them, you know. Easy does it."
"Sorry," he said, letting go of them.
"Nobody told you to stop entirely, Jim; I liked what you were doing. It's just that you need to take your time making love to a grown woman. Didn't anybody ever teach you that the secret to pleasure is to prolong it?"
His expression told me nobody ever had. I took his right hand in mine and guided it underneath the bath water to a special spot between my legs. "Do you feel that, Jim? Now doesn't that feel nice?"
He nodded, mouth gaping, his breaths coming shallow and quick. It was time to take advantage of the situation and make this a teaching moment, for both of us.
"Feel here," I said. "Those are my labia majora. My pussy lips. There's a second set of lips inside these, called the labia minora. My labia minora happen to extend out beyond the labia majora kind of like a flower. Mature women often get that way naturally, from childbirth or whatever. I'll be happy to show you later if you like."
Jim nodded studiously as he continued to feel me there.
"What I want you to do, Jim, is to gently run your fingers up and down until you get the feel of my pussy lips, like so." I had to hand it to him; this kid was good with his fingers. "Now, take your fingers and place them on either side, like I'm doing now. Good. Now ever so gently move my pussy lips in an up-and-down motion. There, that feels good. See, when you do that you're doing what a woman does when she begins to masturbate. You know what masturbation is, don't you, Jim?"
"Well, women do it, too. Some women do it every day, sometimes several times a day, did you know that?" I thought of confessing to him that I happened to be one of those women. I had to admit, it was starting to feel good, what Jim was doing to me under the water.
"You see, what happens when you do that, you're making friction against one of the most sensitive portions of a woman's anatomy: the clitoris. Have you ever heard of the clitoris, Jim?"
He shook his head no. What in the hell was the school teaching these kids in sex education class? I'd have to register a complaint with Mr. Dahr!
A thought occurred to me. "Have you and Justine ever done this?" I asked him cautiously. Instead of answering, he kissed me. I opened my mouth. His tongue pressed hard against mine and lingered there. He kept on playing with my pussy while we kissed. It felt really intense by now. This inexperienced kid actually had me close to cumming. After a long while I broke free of Jim's kiss and took a deep breath.
"C'mere," I said impishly. I even crooked my finger at him. "I want to give you a special present, Jim, for being such a good boy." He moved closer. I reached down and began unzipping his jeans. He eagerly helped. Within moments his cock sprang out. It was huge! Those thin emotional-type guys will fool you every time!
"Wow!" I marveled. "You have a big cock, Jim! Looks like my daughter is one lucky girl!" I played with it, jacking the shaft with my hand and teasing the head with the tip of my tongue. Figuring, what the hell, I took Jim's cock in my mouth and began sucking him off.
Behind me I heard an outraged female voice cry out, "Mom! What are you doing with him?" I glanced in the mirror and saw my own reflection giving Jim's reflection a blowjob. And behind the two of us stood Justine, just home from school. She'd climbed the stairs and entered so quietly, and I'd been so preoccupied having my fun with Jim, that I hadn't heard her come in.
"Hi, Babe," Jim offered weakly.
"Seriously? Don't you 'hi, Babe' me, Jim Clancy," Justine snarled. "Not after catching you with my mom like this! This is hideous!"
"Now Justine," I began, "before you start getting all upset—"
"Start getting upset! Start getting upset? What if Daddy were to find out?"
For the first time since Justine walked in, I felt a flood of relief. It sounded like she just might be willing to keep the truth from Rob. That is, if I handled things right. The future of our marriage depended on it. Rob was a straitlaced conservative, what they used to call a button-down square when I was a kid. I knew he would never countenance any cheating from me. Now was the time for me to walk that tightrope with Justine.
"Honey, you're only eighteen years old," I said. "You're going to learn that, from time to time, we all run into situations in life now and then that aren't always easy to accept or understand." She listened quietly, with a scowl on her face and her arms angrily crossed.
"Adults are no different from you kids. We all have certain very powerful emotions. Sometimes those emotions get the better of us. When they do, it's best to take a step back and realize that people are human. We make mistakes. We have to learn from our mistakes. It's called maturity. Maybe you, and Jim, too, can use this opportunity to learn from someone else's mistake."
"But I saw you, Mom!" Justine wailed. "This was no mistake! You had Jim's thing in your mouth!"
"That's true, Honey; I did. But a mistake can be a lapse in judgment. That's all that happened here: a momentary lapse in judgment. Jim and I are unaccustomed to drinking wine and we drank wine anyway. The alcohol clouded our judgment, don't you see? This never would have happened if we'd both been cold sober. It's a good lesson to both of us to be more careful in the future. And I'll promise you something, Justine: if you'll forgive Jim and me just this once, I'll go on the wagon for a month. This will never happen again, I swear to you. Do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me?"
Justine's severe expression softened. She even managed a weak smile. "All right, Mom; I forgive you," she said. She ran over to me and we embraced. Her clothes got wet from the bath water but she didn't seem to mind, we were both so emotional.
"And you won't tell Daddy?" I asked her.
"No, Mom, I won't tell Daddy," she said, but added, "on one condition."
"Anything, Dear. What's the condition?"
"I promise not to tell Daddy," Justine said, "but in exchange, you have to teach me how to do that thing you were doing with Jim just now."
"I'd be more than happy to, Dear," I said. "Here, let me show you. Showing's better than telling, after all."