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Grown Up
You could say I'm a late bloomer. My high school
years were marked with rejection after
rejection. It seemed like no woman wanted
anything to do with me.
Not that I blamed them. I had no confidence, no
guts, and not much to offer in the way of sexual
experience. After high school, however, I gained
some momentum and found myself having any number
of exciting sexual experiences, all of which
added to my confidence, which added to my
experiences.
Despite my awkwardness, during high school, one
house always invited me in: the house of my
friend Kelsey. She was my first friend in high
school, and certainly my best. She and I bonded
over our mutual insecurities and her house was
as much an emotional haven for me as I was for
her.
The welcoming feeling was not just provided by
Kelsey, but also by her mother. Her mother . . .
an older woman who treated me not as an awkward
teenager, but as an exceptionally gifted and
artistic kid perhaps wise beyond his years. She
didn't make me feel lesser for not fitting in;
she made me proud.
Her name was Terri, and she was unmarried.
Kelsey's father was long out of the picture (if
he ever was really in it) and I think she
appreciated having a man, however young, around
the house. I know I certainly appreciated having
my masculine ego inflated with every errand she
had me do. I did them willingly, glad to have
found a niche, and eager to repay her for
allowing me into her home.
Terri and I were always a bit flirty, but of
course, she could be only so flirty with a kid
of seventeen. Despite the age difference, I
couldn't help but be attracted to her. She
carried herself with a grace that only older
women have. Her eyes were calm with experience,
and her body moved slowly and intriguingly.
In between having my confidence boosted by
Terri, I would rather uncomfortably court
Kelsey, trying to asuage my loneliness with
finding a girlfriend, while ignorantly thinking
she was the proper girl for the role. Kelsey and
I were obviously better as friends, a
realization I had none too soon.
I kept in touch with both Terri and Kelsey all
through college, and I actually grew closer to
Terri as I helped her cope with the departure
from home of her only daughter. I did the best I
could from another state, and she admired the
effort; I think she admrired that anyone even
remembered her. The three of us rarely saw each
other, but we were held tightly by the invisible
bond that perpetually ties together those who
still care about each other, regardless of
distance or situation.
Fotunately, I was well over my shallow advances
on Kelsey when I was greeted with the astounding
news that Kelsey was getting married! With my
boyish crush years behind me, I could welcome
this news with the selfless jubilation it
deserved. This also called for me to return
home, and to spend my first significant time
with Kelsey and Terri in years.
I arrived home a few days before the wedding and
was glad to see that Terri was not distraught
over the marriage as I had feared. Kelsey's
fiancee was great. Indeed, that was not the
problem, but I feared Terri might see it as the
"loss of a daughter". Instead, she was as elated
as all of us. During the furor around the
ceremonies, I was able to return to the home
that had welcomed me for so many days and nights
only a few years before. There I could speak
privately with Terri and get her feelings on the
marriage, though I figured I knew what she would
say.
The time was mid-afternoon when I finally pulled
up to the house. Not much had changed. It still
had the comfortable chaos I remembered: boxes,
magazines, and international art littered the
house rendering it endearingly messy, never
dirty. It was the home of an eccentric, a
relentless planner who never actually had the
time to take action.
I was greeted by Terri's relaxed yet vital smile
at the door. She had clearly just come from
work, as she donned a dark gold jacket with
matching skirt, patterned blouse, and dark green
stockings with no shoes. The last part made me
laugh because it was so sexy, and was so sexy
because it made me laugh.
She hugged me as always and welcomed me in.
"Look at you," she said warmly. "I'm glad you
could make it. Kelsey's honored."
"I'm the one that's honored," I responded
humbly. "I'm proud to be in a wedding like this.
Kelsey deserves it."
Terri invited me in. We went and sat on the
couch. I reluctantly asked her for a glass of
water, apologizing even before I did so.
"No you can't have a glass of water," she
replied sarcastically. "Don't worry, I can
afford it."
She poured the water for me, though I offered
nervously to do it myself. I wasn't nervous
around her, but I always adopted a squirrely
humility when I was a guest. Terri never stood
for it, and soon I relaxed back into the old
habits. It was only a matter of minutes before
the conversation was flowing and I was liberally
snacking on a bowl of mixed nuts.
"So, are you excited!?!?" I asked with a wry,
half-serious enthusiasm.
"Yeah," she said, drawing out the word slowly.
"I mean, it's her big day. The planning went
well, the dress looks beautiful, everything's
great."
"I was actually a bit nervous you'd be dreading
it, like she was abandoning you," I said.
"Oh she abandoned me years ago," she laughed.
"Awww don't think like that. She loves you.
You're her whole world. That will never, EVER
change. Trust me."
"I know, I know," she exhaled.
Terri always seemed lonely, but in the silence
that fell on the room, I suddenly felt the need
to say it seriously for the first time in our
history.
"I AM lonely," she replied, as though it were so
obvious that I seemed slow to only mention it
now. "Well, get up and do something about it," I
urged, though I had no specifics in mind.
"What am I going to do?"
She put her hand on my knee.
"I can't magically be twenty years younger my
dear."
She stood up purposefully in front of me and
gave a stare filled with something I cannot
pinpoint, but which was intensely powerful. She
walked to the kitchen and began putting away
dishes.
And with that, I felt as though Terri and I were
at the first fork in our years of closeness. It
was not a mental fork, but a visceral physical
one, and a charge rushed through my body. I
restrained the fury but not the impulse, and
walked into the kitchen to find her facing the
sink. Her hair was pinned up into a sexy loose
bun and her stockings clung smoothly to her
legs. Her figure was great and her skirt was
just short enough to be "inappropriate" for her
age. How was this woman so lonely?
I approached her from behind and placed my hands
on her hips. She leaned her head back to mine
and lifted her hand to caress the side of my
face.
"I don't want you twenty years younger," I
whispered. "I want you like you are."
I began getting hard, and reached down to touch
her gorgeous smooth thighs. At the moment I felt
the soft nylon at my fingertips, she pulled
away.
"You don't understand," she said, seeming to
fight off despair. "I haven't . . . "
I knew what she was going to say. She hadn't
been with anyone for years.
"I don't care," I implored. "Just lay back. I'll
be gentle," I said with a wink. We walked to the
dining room where she had a large wooden table
and began passionately kissing. I couldn't keep
my hands off of her, and it was clear I was
going to be the aggressor. I placed her on the
table and took her jacket off, and we continued
kissing. I moved downward slowly, kissing her
neck and chest. Finally, I hiked up her skirt
and saw the thigh-highs I was longing for. I ran
my hand over them, feeling every soft stitch on
my skin. Above them were black panties with a
lace trim, a panty choice that suggested she was
hoping I might see these today.
I kissed her inner thigh and took her panties
off. I began kissing around her labia and thigh,
gently licking and responding to her every
shiver.
"Oh my god," she moaned with a laugh. "I missed
this."
I began eating her pussy slowly, tonguing the
hole and teasing the clit. I knew she didn't
need much motiviation to release her years of
pent-up sexuality, so I quickly began fervently
licking her clit. My tongue moved forcefully
over it, making sure to caress it with every
motion. She was building steam and I was
becoming excited to be the one to make her cum
after so many years.
"Oh god, don't stop," she demanded, as her
demeanor quickly became more forceful.
""Are you gonna cum?" I asked, only to hear her
say it aloud.
"Oh god," she moaned again. "Oh shit, ohhh . . .
"
I kept the same steady pace, allowing it to
build. Slowly yet steadily she built towards her
climax, and as she neared, I became more and
more turned on.
"Here it is!" she yelled and she began to shake
furiously as she came. "I'm cumming!"
I kept licking and didn't stop until the orgasm
had passed and it began to tickle instead of
pleasure. She laid there silently for a minute,
looking to the side with her hand on her head. I
knew she needed a respite, so I did not speak
up. She would when she was ready.
"Thank you," she said gleefully and leaned up to
kiss me. Her kiss was blissful, sloppy in the
way one kisses when they simply don't worry how
they look.
"You're welcome," I humbly snickered. "My
pleasure."
She kissed me deeply once again and took my
shirt off. Quickly she unfastened my belt and
dropped my pants, pulling my underwear down just
after. She reached down and grabbed my erection,
rubbing it gently as she kissed me once more.
Without speaking, she leaned back down, laying
on the table, and pushed me inside of her.
Her pussy was still tight, and it felt and moved
as though it was welcoming me home. It squeezed
tightly around my cock, and as she moved back
and forth, it didn't so much slide over me as
jerk me off. I picked up her legs and placed her
feet on my shoulders. I kissed the
stocking-covered legs frequently as I began
pounding faster. I grunted and began sweating,
and knew I had to hold back. I couldn't cum this
soon after she waited so long!
"Is it still good?" she asked.
"So fucking good. Soooo . . . fucking . . .
good."
"Come on baby," she said breathily. "Ah fuck," I
said through clenched teeth.
"I want to be on top."
She said this with great authority, and I was in
no mood to argue. I pulled out and sat on one of
the large wooden chairs accompanying the table.
She hiked her skirt up more and straddled me. I
popped in with ease and she quickly began riding
me steadily. I grabbed her ass so she bounced up
and down, and with this she began building
again. "Oh shit," she said as I started. "Oh
shit," once more but more forcefully.
I knew she was getting close and I wanted her to
cum again before I did, but as she got tighter,
my urge built more and more.
"Cum baby. Come on. Fuck it," I said, motivating
here.
She rode harder and I pounded harder. She
reached back and began tickling my balls with
her right hand while her left held the back of
the chair. I knew I wasn't going to last much
longer. Loudly and wildly she came again,
squeezing my cock to the brink in the process.
This time, I could not let her bask.
"I'm gonna cum," I grunted. "I'm close."
She moaned at this as I kept stroking inside her
and I knew it was okay.
"I'm close. Here it is."
And with her still tickling my balls, I unloaded
them into her. A brief second after my first
shot, she moaned loudly again and began to
squeeze: not a full orgasm, but enough to make
me cum harder than I had anticipated. She kept
riding and I kept cumming, until I was spent and
unable to move my hips as forcefully as before.
She draped herself over me and we laid there,
her hands on the back of the chair, mine on her
hips. We were sweaty and panting, our faces
smiling and our muscles melting. I can't say how
long we stayed like this.
Eventually, she threw her head back, her hair
now wild, and greeted me with a grin. "Well!"
she said, still with a knowing glance. "I needed
that." Her comments were wry with understatement
and I knew that the sex had relaxed her body,
but kept her mind perfectly sharp. It was just
as sexy as the moments before.
"Me too!" I said almost argumentatively. "It's
certainly always welcome, I'll say that."
She climbed off and I saw droplets of my cum
fall out of her, while her juices coated my
still hard cock. I couldn't help but stare at
her ass , bordered by the skirt and thigh-highs,
as she sauntered to the bathroom.
I laid there, glad to be the one who put the
bounce in her step. She moved like someone ten
years younger now. I considered going after her
again.
"No," I thought. "This was exactly how it was
supposed to be."
She came back with her skirt pulled down and her
hair redone. I was buttoning my jeans when she
kissed me one last time. I kissed back, and the
kiss took on a life of its own. When we
separated, I put on my shirt and said I should
be going. She ran her hand through her hair and
smiled.
"Okay. I guess I'll see you at the wedding?"
I laughed.
"Yeah. It was fun."
"Boy was it! Don't worry. No one needs to know.
Go find a lucky girl."
"Hopefully," I said.
Once again, she made me believe I could.
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