Before the boy could answer, Connie had her arm around him, closing the door behind them with her foot. She made sure his arm was nestled against her tit.
"Why don't you sit on the couch while I make out a check?"
The boy sat down on the edge of the couch. Connie sat down in an easy chair across from him. She pulled her check book out of her purse.
"What's your name, young man?"
"Tom."
"What, no last name?"
"Tom Trimble."
Connie thought a moment. "Are you Lucas Trimble's son?"
"Yes, I am, Miss Ryan."
Connie chuckled to herself Lucas Trimble was the mayor of Weedville. In fact, for as long as she could remember, he had been the only mayor of Weedville.
Connie studied Tom's face as he gazed up at the ceiling nervously. He was a red-headed kid with freckles. Lanky frame just like his father's. Blue eyes, thin lips which he had obviously inherited from Lucas' deceased wife Mavis Trimble.
"How much do I owe you, Tom?"
"Ten dollars for this month, Miss Ryan." Tom looked at Connie and noticed her tits. No male could resist noticing her tits.
Connie smiled at Tom and leaned back in the easy chair, her check book in hand. She spread her legs, wondering how much of her thighs and cunt young Tom Trimble could see from his position on the couch.
Tom opened his mouth in awe. God, she wasn't wearing any panties! And he could see way, way up between her legs. Shit, he'd never seen a cunt before – unless you counted his sister's. Tom's brow beaded with sweat as he moved his legs nervously. Shit, if she would just spread her legs another couple of inches, he knew that he would be able to see her cunt.
As Connie began writing in her check book, she spread her legs farther apart, her mini-dress inching higher.
Tom gasped, then shut his mouth quickly. Shit, he didn't want her to hear him. Oh, please.
Miss Ryan. Open up just a little more. I can see the hair, but I can't see your – oh, my God! There it is – her cunt!
Slyly, Connie glanced over the edge of her check book, pretending to write. She watched Tom squirm, and she was amazed at how delicious he leaked to her.
"Oh, damn it, Tom. I made a mistake. If you'll wait just a moment – I know how busy you are – I'll write another check out for you."
"O-Oh, that's all right, Miss Ryan. I'm not going nowhere tonight."
Connie smiled at him, then tore out the check. She began writing again; this time she really spread her legs apart.
Oh, gosh, Tom thought, his flesh feeling clammy. Oh gosh! Oh, gosh! I can – I can see all of her CUNT! My gosh!
Tom sat up straighter, his hard-on paining him as it throbbed against his fly. He sat at an angle to Connie, hoping that she wouldn't look up now so that he could straighten out his prick, move it from his pants leg so that the head pointed towards his belly button. His palms were sweaty and his fingers trembled.
Connie felt ecstatic; she hadn't realized how really powerful her charms were. All the other guys who had fucked her knew she wanted to get laid as badly as they had wanted to lay her. But now, here was a young teenage kid – shit, Connie hoped that he was in his teens – who probably hadn't seen a cunt, didn't know the first thing about fucking and sucking, and had probably just discovered how wonderful it felt to fuck his fist. Shit, what a Goddamn thrill it was to make this kid squirm!
Connie scribbled her name on the check, then stood up.
Tom sighed. He sure wanted to see more of her cunt before he had to go. Well, at least he had managed to straighten out his hard-on before Miss Ryan had spotted it. He reached out for the check.
"Would you like something to drink before you go, Tom?"
"W-Well, sure, Miss Ryan."
Connie led him into the kitchen. She pointed to a chair. Tom sat down, staring at her tits, her ass, wishing he could see more of her cunt. He still didn't believe that he had finally seen a pussy. All his friends had talked about cunt, what it would look like, what it would do, what it would feel like. Shit, now he couldn't wait to tell the gang about the cunt that he had seen, to describe how hairy and hot it looked.
Connie opened the refrigerator door. "Let's see what I've got in here, Tom."
She bent over and rummaged through the lower shelves of her refrigerator.
Tom gasped. Miss Ryan's ass was almost in his face as she bent over, her head peering into the refrigerator. Now he could see her cunt from a different angle. God, it was so hairy, so hot-looking, yet it looked so tight. He wondered how the hell a cock could get into a slit like that. Shit, somehow be knew that cunts just had to open themselves up for a guy to get his prick inside.
"Gee, Tom, I just know I've got some lemonade or Cokes or something in here," Connie said, bending way over, pretending to reach for something in the back of the refrigerator.
Holy shit! Connie's dress had slipped off the hill of her ass. Tom was not only inches away from her cunt, but now he was only a cock's length from her puckered asshole. He could feel juice oozing from his prick as it once again strained against the crotch of his pants.
Had Tom's eyes not been centered on Connie's cunt and asshole, he might have spied the six-pack of Cokes over the rise of her ass-cheeks.
Connie stood up, wiggling her ass slightly as her mini-dress slithered back into place.
"Oh, here are the Cokes, Tom. Right up here on the top shelf."
Tom's gaze was still focused on her ass even as the mini-dress curtained off his view of the magnificent sight.
Connie grabbed two bottles and spun around. She tripped and fell against Tom.
Tom was startled, then his reflexes took over and be reached out to brace her fall. Her tits landed in his face and Tom's heartbeat raced as he felt her spongy boobs and smelled her erotic perfume.
"Oh, darn it, Tom. I'm sorry. Must be something slippery on the floor." Connie straightened up, looking down for some mysterious water puddle in the middle of her kitchen floor.
Tom stared not at the floor but at her tits. He had managed to glimpse them when she raised up and the top of her dress had billowed out to expose the hot meatiness of her big jugs. The cum leaking out of his straining cock-head had now dampened his crotch, and he was embarrassed.
"Why, what's wrong, Tom?" Connie asked as she set the Cokes down on the kitchen table. She came over to him and put her hand to his forehead. "You look flushed. Have you got a temperature?"
"N-No, Miss Ryan. It's just that it's, er, hot and stuffy in here."
"Now, Tom, are you telling me the truth?" Connie asked as she swept aside the perspiration from his brow and thrust her tits at his face.
Tom felt as if he were being smothered. Christ, her tits were only inches away from his face! If he had had the balls to lean towards her, he would have smothered himself with her tits, but Tom was too young, too inexperienced to know any better. So he sat there squirming as Connie ran her hand through his hair, her tits right in front of his face, while his prick throbbed harder and harder.
"Tom, I think you've got a temperature. Listen, why don't you lie down in my bed and I'll run and get the thermometer and take your temperature?"
Tom shook his head. No, he didn't want her to take his temperature; he wanted to get the hell out of Miss Ryan's apartment and into the privacy of his own bedroom so that he could jack off while thinking about her tits, ass and cunt.
"N-No, Miss Ryan, I'm all right. I-I just want to…"
Connie placed her hands beneath his chin and raised his face so that they saw eye to eye. Tom had never seen prettier brown eyes. "Now, young man, I'm not going to let you go until I'm sure that you don't have a fever. I'm not going to have Lucas Trimble telling all of Weedville that I'm not a Good Samaritan."
Tom had never seen such luscious lips on a girl. As if he were hypnotized, he nodded his head, staring at the lipstick gleam of Miss Ryan's lips. It was the first time that he had ever wanted to kiss a girl – on the lips.
Connie grabbed Tom's arm and helped him from the chair. She almost burst out with laughter when she saw Tom's crotch. Obviously he had a hard-on. Connie could see it. And she couldn't wait to get his prick out in the open.
She led him to the bedroom and fluffed up the pillow under his head. As she walked out of the room to fetch the thermometer, Tom began shaking, his thighs quivering. He saw Connie's bra and panties on the floor of the bedroom and he groaned.
Connie reappeared, shaking the thermometer. "Why, Tom, you're shaking!"
Tom didn't know what to say. He still had the urge to jump off the bed, out of Miss Ryan's apartment and into the safe confines of his own bedroom. Christ, he just wanted to jack off!
"I-I'm really a-all right, Miss Ryan. I think I better go."
"Not before I take your temperature, Tom."
Connie stood over the boy. "Open up now, Tom."
Tom opened his mouth, then his teeth clattered against the thermometer. Connie sat down next to his shaking body.
"Gosh, Tom, you're really shaking… and look how much you're sweating," Connie said as she ran her hand over his forehead, then over his ear to his neck.
Tom nodded.
"Here, let me loosen your shirt. I think you're getting hotter."
Connie unbuttoned his shirt as Tom tried to protest with a groan and an adamant shaking of his head.
One, two, tree, four buttons; then Connie pulled his shirttails out of the waist of his pants. She spread open his shirt as if it were the pages of a newspaper. She ran her hands over his chest and smiled at Tom.
"My, my, my, Tom. You're burning up. Here, sit up so that I can take your shirt completely off."
Tom's eyes bulged with fear, the thermometer shaking nervously in his mouth. His body felt like a limp dishrag as Connie helped him to a sitting position, her tits digging into his sweating chest.
Tom moaned, closing his eyes. He wanted to go home and yet he didn't want to go home. He could feel Connie peeling his shirt off his limp arms, her warm breath wafting on his shoulders. He looked down. The cum had definitely stained his pants and the stain was spreading. He looked up and prayed to God that Miss Ryan wouldn't see what he had just seen.
Tom lay back down, his sweaty flesh being absorbed by the cool bedspread. His eyes were still closed.
Connie hid her laughter behind a smile. She looked down and saw the stain at Tom's crotch.
"Tom, now I don't mean to embarrass you, but it looks well, it looks like you had an accident."
Tom didn't want to go home now, and he didn't want to stay. He wanted to die; he wanted the thermometer to slip between his chattering teeth and choke him, he wanted the bed to become some gigantic white shark that would swallow hint whole.
Tom opened his eyes and saw Miss Ryan looking at his crotch. Somehow he wanted her to be referring to some other "accident".
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Tom," Connie said. "Life is like this, Tom. Well, what I mean is, people fart in strange places… you know, like at the grocery store or something, and sure, they get embarrassed. But life is like that. Accidents do happen."
Tom squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head in total agreement.
"Now, let me take your pants off, Tom, and…"
Tom's eyes shot open. He shook his head vigorously. He crossed his legs. His body tensed. Why couldn't he just die?
"Now, Tom, don't be embarrassed."
Tom was embarrassed. What other boy who had stained his pants with cum wouldn't be embarrassed? Tom wished now that he was sick, the sicker the better.
"I'll just take your pants off, throw them in the wash and dry them off. Won't take more than a half-hour."
Tom strained, writhed, twisted, the thermometer quivering like a crazy metronome.
His hands were on his belt buckle.
More cum oozed from his prick.
God, his zipper was coming down. Her fingers grazed across the tented bulge of his shorts.
His cock lurched and throbbed.
Tom squirmed. He couldn't let Miss Ryan get a hand-hold on his belt!
Connie smiled as she gripped the waistline of his pants. "Now, Tom, you're a big boy now. Just pretend that I'm your mother. I promise not to look."
Pretend that Connie Ryan, who had exposed her tits, ass and cunt, was his mother? Tom couldn't believe it. Miss Ryan definitely did not look like a mother, and she didn't act like a mother. A mother wouldn't dare go around the house without her undies. A mother wouldn't sit down in such a spraddle-legged fashion, exposing her cunt. A mother wasn't the type of woman who bent over, head in the fridge, showing off her ass to her son!
Connie jerked off his pants. She gasped. The kid had at least a year's supply of cum drenching his shorts.
Tom opened his eyes fearfully. Oh, God! He didn't want to die; he wanted to go straight to hell – now! She was looking right at his crotch, right at his throbbing, bulging, hot and hard cock.
Connie put her hand over her mouth – more to hide the laughter – and pretended to be awed.
"Tom! You have a… a… er… an… erection! Your thing is – oh, my gosh!"
The flush that had turned his red face crimson seemed to pulse in every vein in his body. What the hell could he say? What the hell could he do? The mercury rose in the thermometer.
"Oh, Tom, I don't know what to say," Connie gasped. "I-I didn't realize… well, I didn't know that… I, honest, Tom, I didn't know that I was affecting you like that. Did I really do that to you?"
Tom nodded his head.
"Oh, poor, poor, dear."
Connie sat down next to Tom. In a consoling voice, she said: "Tom, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. But it looks like we do have something in common."
More cum oozed from Tom's prick as he listened to Miss Ryan's soothing voice and inhaled her erotic perfume.
"You see, before you came to the door, I was ready to – oh, how shall I put it? – I was ready to rind a man who would – you know – make love to me."
Tom's head buzzed. Why was she telling him all about her troubles? Why couldn't she just leave the bedroom, wash his pants and give them back to him? Why couldn't she leave him alone so he could pull on his pud and spurt all his frustration out?
"You see, Tom, whereas you got an erection because of me, I was beginning to get all hot and quivery over seeing you."
What!? Tom couldn't believe his ears. Maybe it was all the agony and turmoil in his balls that was affecting his mind. Maybe if a kid didn't release his cum when it hurt, he would go blind and crazy.
Connie was ready to go out of her mind. Shit, she'd dropped enough hints to this kid, and he hadn't even made a move for first base yet. She was getting really tired of playing make-believe. Shit, after seeing all that cum the kid had wasted on his shorts, she was ready to eat him alive.
She got on her knees beside Tom. Slowly she lifted her dress.
"See, Tom. Women get excited like guys do. Look. Come on, Tom, turn your head this way and look at it."
Tom turned his head. He almost swallowed the thermometer. He gulped, feeling his prick arching stiffly against his Jockeys.
"This is my vagina, Tom. Have you ever seen a vagina, Tom?"
Tom didn't want her to know that he had seen her – what did she call it, a vagina? – before. He shook his head vigorously.
"Well, Tom, this is my vagina," Connie stated, pointing to her cunt. "And when my vagina gets excited, my clitoris starts to erect – just like your cock. Do you see my clitoris, Tom?"
Tom nodded. Could he see her clit? Hell, yes, he could see her clit and a helluva lot more. God! He could see almost all the way up to her womb the way Miss Ryan was spreading her pussy-lips.
"Now, Tom. When I was ready to go looking far a man, before you came in, my vagina was all wet and oozy. Can you see how wet and oozy I am, Tom?"
Tom's eyes widened, his prick was ready to burst. Could he see her cunt oozing? Shit, the cunt-juice was almost splattering against his face!
"Do you want to feel how wet and oozy my cunt is, Tom?"
Tom's mouth opened in awe. The thermometer slid from his lips, landing in the pool of cunt-juice beside his head. He stared right into the heart of her wet, warm-looking, meaty snatch. Somehow he managed to nod his head.
Connie grabbed his hand and thrust his fingers against the lips of her pussy.
"Oh, Goddamn," she moaned.
"Oh, gosh!" Tom groaned.
It was the first pussy he had ever felt, and it felt like two slices of hot liver that had been sewn together on the ends. And now he knew how pricks got into such tight spots – her cunt was opening up, becoming very moist, the flesh getting very hot. He wriggled his finger.
"Oh, shit, it feels so Goddamn good, Tom."
"Does it – does it hurt, when I d-do that, Miss Ryan?"
"Didn't you hear what I said, Tom? It feels sooo Goddamn good! Come on, Tom, really dig your fingers in there."
Hesitantly Tom thrust his index finger into Connie's cunt-hole. Her cunt-lips squeezed around his finger, then snugly clasped his knuckle. Tom wriggled his finger.
"Mother of God! Finger me, Tom! Do it harder! Harder and faster!"
Tom was really getting into it now. He shoved his finger in and out fast, amazed at the look of rapture on Connie's face. His prick had softened somewhat because he was concentrating on fingering Connie's cunt harder and faster, just like she wanted him to.
"Now, finger my clit, Tom! Finger my clit! Aaaaiiieeee!"
Tom fingered her clit. He was really getting to know the ins and outs of a woman's cunt. Shit, he couldn't believe how much hotter and wetter her cunt felt!
As Tom jabbed his finger in and out of her cunt, rubbing around her clit with his thumb, Connie began hunching her hips back and forth, then up and down. The kid was really turning her on; her pussy was spewing out juice – or it seemed to her as if her cunt was spewing out juice.
Connie glanced down, watched Tom's finger fuck in and out of her hungry snatch. She looked at his face – the kid looked as if he were doing some sort of class project. He was mesmerized, hypnotized as he fingered her hot pussy.
"S-Stop, Tom. Stop. Quit fingering me," Connie moaned.
Connie gasped and Tom looked at his wet finger quizzically. Connie took in a deep breath and let her dress fall back into place. "You see how a woman gets all excited, Tom?"
Tom wiped his finger on the bedspread, then looked up into Miss Ryan's flushed face. "Yeah, I do, Miss Ryan. Women get real hot, too, don't they?"
"Y-Yes, we do, Tom," Connie gaspingly replied. "We just get hotter in a different way."
"Boy, I didn't know that a woman's… uh… thing could get so hot."
"Well, Tom," Connie said, "that's because it's not as obvious. You have to feel a woman's vagina to see if it's hot. Now, a man, he's different. It's easy to see when he's hot."
Tom smiled and looked at Connie. She was staring at his erect prick hidden beneath his shorts. Tom's face became crimson.
He watched in fascination as Connie leaned over and pulled back the waistband of his shorts. Slowly the peeled the shorts down and his cock sprang out, slapping against her wrists as she tucked the elastic of his shorts beneath his balls.
Tom couldn't believe that that was his prick – it was hard, smeared with juice, standing erect from his crotch, the apricot-shaped head quivering.
"Now, Tom, don't be embarrassed."
But he wanted to scream out to Miss Ryan that she was the first girl to ever see his prick. His sister had seen his prick once or twice when he had forgotten to shut the bathroom door as he pissed. But his sister had never seen his cock like this, standing straight out from his crotch, the staff throbbing with blood and pent-up cum. Christ, he wanted to hide his cock!
As Tom looked down at his prick, he saw Miss Ryan's warm hand snake through the tendrils of his crotch hair before gripping his cock-shaft tightly.
"Oooohhh, Miss Ryan!"
"Did I hurt you, Tom?" Connie asked, her eyes devouring the beautiful piece of cock-flesh that trembled and quivered in her hand.
"N-No, Miss Ryan. I-it just feels good to have your hand on my, my thing."
"Why of course it feels good, Tom. It felt good when your hand was on my vagina, and my hand feels good to you on your cock. See, women are no different."
Connie was amazed that so much juice was leaking from the tip of Tom's prick. She spied his balls, and was amazed again: where the hell was all that jism coming from?
Tom groaned, his hips writhing, the bedspread feeling like a bed of slugs and snails. He watched her fist move up the shaft of his prick. He felt her fingers gather up the cum that oozed out of his piss-hole, gather up all that juice and rub it over the sensitive crown of his cock.
"Aaaiieee! Miss Ryan! What are you doing!?"
"Masturbating your penis."
"Oh."
Tom remembered that word. Miss Schellenberg, his home-room teacher had mumbled it in their ten-minute lecture on sex education that the state of South Dakota required for all eighth-grade boys and girls. His buddy Norman Wizer had told him that masturbating was just a nice word for jacking off.
Tom watched as Miss Ryan jacked off his cock. The cum dribbled from the cock-head – his cock-head!
Miss Ryan was going to get rid of that God-awful feeling that rolled in his balls. She was going to relieve him of the immense pressure that threatened to burst his cock-shaft.
Connie maintained a steady hand-job pace. His cock-head was getting bigger, mushrooming outwards and upwards. Cum covered her moving fist as the cock-shaft got hotter and bigger. Christ, he sure had a nice-sized prick. Connie could hardly wait to suck it.
"Ooooohhhh, Miss Ryan! I think I'm gonna…"
The white glob of sperm took Connie by surprise. His cum seemed to volcano from the tip of his prick, splattering on her thigh. The next shot arced out and splashed on her hip. Another stroke, another burst of jism spewed forth.
Tom was hunching and twisting on the bed. He couldn't believe the pleasure that was flowing from his balls and prick. His eyes were closed, his thighs were tense, sweat bathed his face and yet, he shot another glob of cum from his cock.
"My God! Tom, you have so much sperm!"
Tom wondered if there was something wrong with having so much sperm. He couldn't help it; there was no way he could control his orgasm.
"Aaaaiiieee!!" Tom screamed as something wet and warm covered the head of his prick.
Christ! It was her mouth!
Tom gasped, couldn't believe what he was seeing. Miss Ryan was sucking his prick, her lips latched tightly on his spewing cock. Another heavenly spurt of jism shot out – into her mouth! And she was swallowing… and moaning… and swallowing some more!
Now there was less force behind each shot of cum. Tom moaned, then gasped, then breathed heavily. His mind spun with visions of Miss Ryan's sweet lips wrapped around the mushrooming cap of his cock, sucking with fervor, drawing out milky cum from the swollen bag of his balls.
Connie sat up, her tongue licking at several drops of spunk that clung to her lips. The cum tasted bland, not at all like the flavor that all those expensive porno books described – it wasn't sweet, it wasn't the honey of the Gods, it wasn't nectar of man. To Connie, cum was cum; not hot, but warm, not sweet but gluey. Still, cum excited her taste bids, make her smack her lips gratefully.
"And now, Tom, we're gonna fuck."