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Furnished Room Ch. 01

By: Peter Duncan



It was May of 2002. I was on a special assignment doing surveys on educational equipment in Denver and Colorado Springs, a project that took four months. I could have stayed in a residential motel but found them sterile and wanted something a little homier. An apartment would have been cheaper but nobody would rent an apartment for less than a year. Pouring through the newspaper at the Waffle House I came across an ad that read, "Furnished room for rent, upscale residential neighborhood, laundry privileges and garage... Rent $400... contact Claire Moore." 

Have you ever had one of those nudges that commanded you to do something out of the ordinary? I had never considered a room and there was nothing special about the ad but, it was almost automatic, I made the call to Ms. Moore. She said her office was only minutes away from her house and she could meet me right away. Her voice, one of those syrupy, sultry voices, was a magnet. Being a male, I fantasized that it would be nice to meet a comfortable woman with whom I could spend my lonely nights, someone soft and warm to cuddle up to.

My wife of eight years, a nurse in Los Angeles, couldn't handle my long absences and ended up having an affair with a doctor whom she had since married. That was three years ago. There was no end in sight to the extended travel which interfered with a permanent relationship, so, I'd only been having casual affairs since the divorce. 

Even though Claire Moore's voice on the other end of the phone sounded youngish I thought she was probably an older woman. I pictured her as a woman of average height, probably a zaftig body with breasts that were still holding up. But I told myself not to be disappointed if she was old and fat and had false teeth. 

Claire had arrived at the house within ten minutes of hanging up the phone. Her husband had been gone for three months and would be away for at least another six. Addicted to gambling, he had run up a fortune in debts and had taken a job as a construction superintendent in Afghanistan, a hazardous, high paying job where the company sent his earnings directly to a New York bank who would hold it in an interest bearing account until he returned. Hopefully the stash would allow him to pay off the debts after which they could get on with their life. Money was getting short for Claire and she reasoned that renting the room on a short term basis would help tremendously. But she wondered if she were doing the right thing.

As I drove passed the graceful Colonial I saw an attractive woman looking out the front window. If she was Claire Moore she was much younger than I envisioned and I wondered what circumstances might have caused a woman liked her to take in a roomer. It was, as she had said, "a nice house in a nice neighborhood." I pulled up in my Porsche Roadster to the house within a half hour of our phone conversation. 

Claire pulled back the sheer curtain and looked out the window just as a 1992 black Porsche Roadster passed the house, continued down the street, made a u-turn and pulled up to the curb in front of the house. Watching him get out of the car she thought, He's CUTE. He was wearing dark blue Dockers, a teal Polo shirt and Sperry Topsiders, no socks. Looking into the mirror she primped her hair and waited for him to knock on the door.

The woman I had seen looking out the window opened the door. Wearing khaki pants, a navy silk blouse and a single string of pearls, she was extremely attractive. She was younger than I expected, probably between 35 and 40. Her auburn hair hung slightly below her shoulders and she had fine features. All in all she was a real classy looking woman.

"You must be Mr. Claridge," she said offering her hand. "I'm Claire Moore."

Returning her greeting I said, "I hope the car will be alright in the street Mrs. Moore. It's a classic model Porsche. I've had it since it was new in 92, it's my pet; I keep it in Cherry condition." 

"Please call me Claire."

In the living room there was a picture of Claire, a man and a girl somewhere between 15 and 20. "Your family?" I asked, stopping in front of the mantle to examine the picture

"Yes, my husband and my daughter Stacy. Ted's overseas on a project...will be gone for another six months. Stacy's a senior in high school. She's 18. She must have seen me raise my eyebrows and clarified, "Stacy's a December birthday; we held her back in the first grade." She looked out the window and said, "If you take the room there's room for your car in the garage." 

The daughter could complicate matters, I thought. Claire saw my sideways glance and asked if something was wrong. "I just feel a bit awkward coming into someone's house to rent a room," I said.

She led the way up the stairs to show me the room. Her behind was at eye level and I couldn't to keep my eyes off it. It was tight in her khaki pants. She was either wearing a thong or no panties at all.

"This is a very nice house, Claire" I said and added, "How old did you say your daughter is?"

"You're not a weirdo are you?" She chuckled. "Eighteen. You'll be sharing a bathroom with her and I have to tell you she can be a bit messy." At the top of the stairs she turned her head sideways and said, "As far as the rest of the house, you can make use of the living room and kitchen as long as we don't get in each other's way."

She stayed in the doorway as I entered the room. It was spacious with an easy chair in the corner and a large desk in front of the window. The closet was empty as were the drawers in the large dresser. Testing the bed I looked at Claire and my thoughts made me feel guilty. As if reading my mind her cheeks tinged pink. 

"What did you say your husband is doing overseas?" 

"He's an engineer...in charge of building a bridge. Stacy's a senior in high school. It wouldn't have been fair to pull her out of school and move her across the world. So I stayed here with her." She chuckled and said, "Besides, Afghanistan's not exactly a tourist attraction"

"Might you have a hook-up for my computer?" 

"My husband put in wifi last year." She bent down under the desk and pointed. "There's an additional phone jack right here and you can order phone service."

She worked out... was proud of the shape she was in and knew he was looking at her tight butt. While coming up the stairs she had felt a little brazen, knowing that her behind was right in front of his eyes. And, she was swinging it quite a bit more than usual. 

She was bending over, pointing under the desk, and her ass looked even tighter. I felt a swelling in my groin. "I, I'll take the room Claire. I work late into the night on my computer, is that a problem?"

"We're sound sleepers, you won't bother us."

I followed her into the bathroom and she said, "Shoot," bent down to pick up a black thong and bra and dropped them into the hamper. I knew I would be in for a treat when I would rummage in the hamper, a slight perversion of mine, and savor her daughter's aroma.

A downstairs door slammed and a girl's voice called, "Mom?" I could hear her coming up the stairs. When she got to the landing she looked at Claire with pouting lips but her demeanor changed when she saw me. I recognized her from her picture. She had her mother's shapely legs which were nicely displayed by her short jeans skirt. Her spaghetti strap top was tight, showing off her attractive breasts. 

"Stacy, this is Mr. Claridge. He's going to take the room."

The girl looked me up and down, smiled and said, "So, the Porsche outside belongs to you?" When I answered yes she looked into my eyes, quickly diverted hers to my crotch, offered her hand and said, "Cool." Maybe I was imagining it but her nipples appeared to firm and tent her thin top. 

"Stacy," Claire said, "Why don't you help Mr. Claridge bring his things in?" 

On the way out to the car I asked Stacy if she liked school. She tossed her hair and told me she couldn't wait to get out. "If you don't mind me saying so Stacy, you are a very attractive girl." Putting her tongue in her cheek she smiled coyly. It was clear she knew that she was hot and appeared thrilled that I thought so too.

"Do you have a boyfriend Stacy?" I asked.

"No, not now," she said. "He was a jerk. I'm not interested in boys my age any more." In front of the car she said, "This is such a cool car. Will you take me for a ride?"

I sensed the tension between us and didn't want to chance getting her mother upset with me. "Not now Stacy. I have to take my things in. Opening the trunk I told her that I would take the suitcase and brief case. "You take my laptop and my tennis racquet." Shit, I thought looking at the open file box. One of my magazines was on top, emblazoned with a gorgeous blonde down on her knees sucking a handsome stud's humungous cock.

Incredibly cool Stacy smirked and said, "Um, Mr. Claridge...Lance... you might not want Mom to see this magazine."

Trying to gain my equilibrium I said, "Maybe this can be a secret between you and me Stacy, OK?"

She gave me a knowledgeable smirk and said, "There are dirtier pictures on the internet...Mr...Lance... and I bet you know where to look." 

Back in my room she set the briefcase and tennis racket down, then leaned against the doorjamb and looked at me seductively. She licked her lips then tossed her hair and wiggled her ass to her room, closing the door behind her.

Needing to pee I went to the bathroom, closed the door and stood at the toilet. I was somewhat swollen as a result of the interchange with Stacy and couldn't go. The hamper caught my eye and I opened it. Picking up the black thong I spread the crotch and held the panties to my nose. The faint smell of dried urine didn't cover the scent of Stacy's feminine essence. She must have masturbated in them to have left such a strong residual smell. The image of the girl writhing on her bed, wetting her panties with her excitement excited me and I wrapped the fabric around my bulk and masturbated. It didn't take long until my knees buckled. When I spurted my semen over the black fabric I thought, I'm such a fucking pervert.

Furnished Room Ch. 02



I offered to take Claire and Stacy out for dinner that night but Claire insisted that we eat in. We spent the time asking and answering questions people ask and answer when they are trying to get to know each other. 

Sitting at the table with this handsome man tickled Stacy's imagination. She stared at Lance throughout the meal, sensing her mother's disapproval. But she didn't care. Typical of girls her age she didn't like to think of her mother as a sexual being. She had heard the moans when her parents had made love and was both embarrassed and jealous that her dad had sex with her mother. Like many young girls she had fantasies about her father making love to her. Since her parents argued a lot and the noises in the bedroom had stopped months before he left, she blamed her mother and often lay awake at night hoping he would sneak into her room and find the satisfaction between her legs that he was no longer experiencing with her mother. She missed her dad.

But there was a new man in the house and he was about the same age as her father, more handsome though. The fact that he drove a hot car and that he kept porn in the trunk of his car tickled her imagination. She was sure he probably had a lot of girls and knew what to do with them. The thought of this man's naked body on top of a woman, with his rigid cock impaling her, excited Stacy. She glanced at her mother, knowing that she wouldn't be interested in him. After all, she didn't like sex and had proven that with her father. But she did seem to be hogging the conversation. 

After dinner Stacy went to her room. She was restless. She would be graduating soon and didn't really need to study. Looking out the window she saw the black Porsche beyond the curb. There was something in the way the streetlights shone on the glossy dark paint that made it appear naughty. Her eyes went to the trunk and she wished she could open it and take a good look at the magazine, wondering if there were more in the file box. It had only been a brief glance but she made out a naked hunk with his huge erection buried between the legs of an equally naked beautiful blonde girl. 

She looked into the mirror and took off her skirt and top, compared herself to the girl in the picture and imagined a huge cock, Lance's, between her legs. Her boyfriend wasn't that big and she wondered if Lance might be. Thinking about her ex boyfriend she sniffed, knowing that no matter how big he was he wouldn't have been able to stay hard long enough to make her feel good. But, she had an idea that Lance could. 

She touched herself and was amazed that her panties were damp. It was like she had been playing two hours of volley ball, but the aroma coming from them was not body odor. Her reflection in the mirror showed how pointy her nipples were. She touched them; they were so sensitive that they hurt. Sitting on the bed she laid back, pressed her wet thong into her groove, the fabric wicking more of her leaking wetness and wondered if every girl lubricated as much as she did. She remembered how the bulk of her boyfriend's cock felt sliding so easily inside her before he popped. 

There were two things she knew about Lance, two things her mother would be angry with and might ask him to leave if she knew. So, she wasn't going to say anything. The first was the porn magazine. Her mother had caught her looking at porn on the computer once, and had had a fit. So, she would probably be pissed if she knew Lance had it in his car. The other thing, which Stacy found both strange and exciting, was what he did to her panties in the bathroom. After dinner her mother had told her to empty the hamper and wash the clothes. When she did, she found her black panties... all wet, like somebody had blown their nose in them, except, the mucousy deposit smelled just like her boyfriends sperm. That a grown man like Lance had ejaculated in her underwear made her feel quite special. And, she was going to provide him with ample opportunities to do it again.

She bit her lip to stifle her outcry when her tightness released; no way did she want her mother to know that she was playing with herself. As she lay back, feeling the tom-tom of her heart in her ears, she imagined Lance lying on top of her, his thick shaft still inside her wet canal, her wetness being increased by his copious load. When she dropped her wet panties on the bathroom floor she knew her scent would tell him that he was dealing with more than just a naïve school girl. 

Before I went to bed that night I went into the bathroom and saw Stacy's panties on the floor. Like a dog sniffing a bitch in heat my nose was in the crotch. They were still damp and I thought, wow, that little tart is either the wettest female in Colorado, or she has masturbated more than once in them. It made me chuckle, knowing I would have to get used to the idea if having such a ready supply of whacking material. I knew she was a tease but hadn't yet figured out that she would be dropping her panties as bait. In my mind, the only woman in this house I was interested in was Claire. I was 45 and hadn't fooled around with a woman under the age of 30 since my divorce three years ago. But, putting my nose in Stacy's panties again I thought, Claire, you had better say something to your daughter about her blatant invitations. 

In my room I opened my laptop to do some work but my mind wasn't up to speed on the project yet. So I opened a file and scanned some porn. I loved to look at explicit pictures and rub my cock through my pants. I thought again of Stacy and the flash of embarrassment I felt when she saw the magazine. Maybe I was wrong but I thought I saw her nipples harden when she saw it. I remembered that I had never bothered to password protect my laptop and thought I should, just in case Stacy decided to snoop through my files. I don't want that, I thought. But, remembering her sensual scent I thought, or, maybe I do.

Wide awake in her king sized bed Claire wondered if she did the right thing by renting the room to Lance. Perhaps I should have gone for someone older...less desirable, she thought. What are the neighbors going to think? What about the people at church...Stacy's school...even the people I work with? She had caught Lance looking at her and got a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach as well as experiencing a surprising tingling between her legs. 

Since she and her husband stopped having sex she had gotten into the habit of sleeping in a flannel nightgown but tonight she decided to sleep in just a t-shirt. I haven't felt this way in months, she thought...no, it's been years. She had to dig in her drawer for the t-shirt, remembering when she bought it on vacation years ago. It was short and pink and said on the front, "If you can catch me," and on the back, "you can have me anytime you want." Her nipples were sensitive and were excited by the touch of the fabric against them. She pushed on her breasts and thought, God, what am I doing?

I looked at my watch; it was 2:45. Every noise outside the house was amplified. I even thought I could hear stirrings inside the house. My imagination was working overtime. Lying on my back I put my hands behind my head and thought about the luscious woman sleeping down hall, separated by her horny daughter who was an unwitting chaperone. I thought about how classy Claire was, how she dressed with such impeccable taste. I was hard again and my hand found its way down my hairy abdomen, tickled through my pubic patch and my fingers wrapped around my warm, veiny shaft. The last thing I remembered before dropping off to sleep was spurting my load on my stomach. 

I awoke and Claire was straddling my legs, her head was bobbing up and down. The feel of the warm slickness of her mouth and the velvet of her tongue tickling the underside of my cock brought me beyond the point of no return. I wanted to cry out her name but, just as I spewed in her mouth, she disappeared. It was the most realistic wet dream I had ever had and, as the cooling semen sagged down my leg, I thought, Jesus, no woman has ever held this kind of an attraction for me before. I had been in and out of a hard-on since I walked in the door today. 

I still didn't understand what had happened to her husband...wondered if she were in financial trouble. Claire was too young and too attractive to be alone for a very long time. I was prepared to pay around a thousand a month for an apartment; my company would have paid for 75% of it. If she needs it, I thought, maybe I can...No...I shouldn't impose. 

I wondered what she wore to bed...a flannel nightgown, something sheer? Or, maybe she sleeps in a tee shirt? I liked the idea of a tee shirt; easier to get my hands between her legs. Oh shit, what am I gonna do? I know the novelty of this situation will wear off in a couple of days. But my cock is hard as a rock again, my balls ache like crazy...and my dick is getting chaffed. 

Claire rolled over and looked at the clock; it was 3:02 and she hadn't gone to sleep yet. Out of the blue the image of a cock filled her mind. It was long, hard, and throbbing. And again her pussy was soaked. She got up and went into the bathroom, turned on the light and ran the water. Looking at her reflection in the mirror she asked herself, "Am I crazy?" She washed her face in cold water but it didn't help. 

Back in bed, in the darkness, she caressed her breasts then touched and circled her clitoris. Her finger probed her vagina. Before long, her whole body shook, wracked with wave after wave of inadequate pleasure. There was a roaring in her ears that slowly subsided and her legs became limp as rubber.

I had never been in a house that exuded such sexual tension. And I realized the possibilities there were like something I could be reading in one of those porn magazines. That fact that I was a single man staying in a house with two women (Stacy was still in high school but I still considered her a woman), one who's husband has been away for months, made me shake my head at my good fortune. I thought about the neighbors and what they might think. But they weren't my problem. I wondered again why I agreed. Her voice on the phone had attracted me like the siren Circe did Ulysses. I should have put wax in my ears... never really intended to rent the room. I just wanted to see the person attached to that voice.



Furnished Room Ch. 03



Exhausted from the lack of sleep Claire hoped the coffee would give her a shot of wakefulness. She heard a door open, not sure whether it was Stacy's or Lance's, but the heavy steps down the stairs told her it was Lance. He came into the kitchen wearing a light blue button-down shirt, dark blue Dockers and Sperry topsiders. Captivated by his good looks she felt a stirring in the places that were already on fire from her zealous rubbing. 

Claire was dressed the way she would ordinarily be if I hadn't been in the house; I found her sexy no matter what she was wearing and was pleased to see she wasn't dressed. Her robe was open at the top showing, under her t-shirt, that her breasts were more substantial than I had originally imagined. 

She said good morning and I returned her greeting. The look she gave me was one of confusion. But when I saw her knotted nipple raising a bump on the thin cotton fabric of her exposed t-shirt I thought she was attracted to me, or, at least she was excited to have a man in the house. Considering the length of time her man had been gone I understood her need for a man's attention. "Would you like some coffee?" she asked.

Although sorry that my stares made her uncomfortable I was acting no more sophisticated than a teenager, my penis was fully erect. Capturing the rogue erection between my legs, I answered, "I would love some Claire." 

"I'm sorry," she said, putting her hand to her hair, "I'm a wreck in the mornings." She laughed nervously adding, "But you may as well get used to it."

She poured a cup for me. "Cream, sugar?"

Neither of us heard Stacy come into the room. She was dressed just in a t-shirt. I was taken aback thinking, if she raises her arms I'll see the bottom her pussy. Claire's angry command startled me.

"Get back upstairs Young lady and put a robe on ...NOW!" Stacy turned and ran upstairs. Looking at me, Claire blushed and said,"I'm sorry Lance, we're not at all modest when it's just the two of us." 

I was pleased at how Claire, acting like a responsible mother, had admonished her daughter's inappropriate dress. But I couldn't miss Stacy's reaction as she headed for the stairs. She knew her mother wasn't looking but knew I was and flipped the back of her t-shirt at her mother. All I could think was, nice ass. In self-defense I sat at the table where I didn't have to worry about my erection showing. It would have been one thing for Claire to notice it when I was talking with her, but with her daughter she, understandably, might have wanted to throw me out on my ear.

"We usually eat cereal or bagels in the morning Lance. You're welcome to what we have," she said, before telling me that she needed to take a shower and get ready for work. As she passed Stacy who was coming back into the kitchen wearing a bathrobe she said, "Don't be too much of a pest. Lance has work to do and you need to get dressed for school."

I was glancing at the paper, trying to ignore her. But the little tart was at it again and I wondered how far she was going to go. She poured her coffee, put it on the table then dropped her spoon on the floor. As she stooped to pick it up I could see that she had nothing on beneath her robe. Her rounded breasts sagged forward and her robe came apart enough for me to see her nipples. She didn't look up but I knew she knew I was looking by the way she kept fumbling with the spoon on the floor. I felt like such a sleaze staring at a high school girl like this. But what she had to show was pretty spectacular and, for the moment, I had forgotten about her mother.

Stacy had left the kitchen about ten minutes before I went back to my room. When I opened the door I was surprised that she was standing in front of the desk looking at my laptop. Just as I walked through the door she punched the power button and the screen went black. The look on her face as she brushed past me was a mixture of guilt and provocation. Grabbing her arm I said, "Ya know young lady, this is MY room...my private place. What would your mother think if she knew you were snooping like this?"

She was defiant, holding my gaze with a smirk. Puffing up her chest, as if to remind me of what I had seen in the kitchen, and said, "What do you think she would say if she knew that you left your computer on with a nasty picture like that?" 

Stacy was wise for a high school student. The fact that she was a year older than her classmates made her more aware. She had sensed the look on Lance's face when she saw the porn magazine in the trunk of his Porsche last night. He seemed appropriately embarrassed but, at the same time, the look he had given her was that of a challenge. The fact that he had left the picture on the screen on his laptop was for her to look at. She had shown him enough of her breasts in the kitchen to show him that she was more woman than girl and sensed his arousal at her defiance. He was taking the hook and thought if she played her cards right she could have sex with him. She knew that they were going to. If he didn't make the move she would make do it. As he released her arm she smiled coyly and wiggled to her room. 

You little bitch, I thought, I'd better password protect that goddamned thing. But I knew I wouldn't. I wanted her to see everything I had on there. I was really excited and thought again, you sleazy son of a bitch. 

Leaving her door open more than a crack she took off her robe and t-shirt, stood naked in front of her dresser and pulled out a red thong. She held it up in front of the mirror and stretched it, hoping Lance would see her through the crack in the door. Hearing his door open she waited a few seconds then bent down and put her legs through the thong and pulled it up and wiggled her ass. She heard her mother call from downstairs:

"I'm running late Stacy. You'd better hurry up or you'll have to walk to school." 

If I play my cards right, she thought, maybe Lance will give me a ride to school in his hot little car. "That's ok mom, I'll walk." Looking at her door she saw movement then heard Lance's bedroom door quietly being pushed shut. 

Feeling like a thirteen year old boy caught peeping I went to my room, packed up my laptop, picked up my briefcase and went downstairs. Claire had stopped at the door as if waiting for me. "If you don't have plans for dinner tonight," she said, "I'll stop by the store and pick up some steaks. You're more than welcome to join us for dinner." She seemed to be fishing for my approval on her wardrobe. I held my gaze a little long and she blushed. "I almost forgot; here's a key to the house. I have to run now." 

Just as I was heading out the door Stacy pranced down the stairs and asked "Could you give me a ride to school Lance?" I knew better than to tempt fate but couldn't resist. Besides, I thought, what can happen between here and school? 

"Wow. This is a cool car," Stacy said sitting down in the seat. I bet you attract a lot of women with it." She looked at me, put her hand on the knob of the stick shift and licked her lips. Closing her fingers on the knob she ran them up and down the shaft then folded her hands demurely in her lap and smiled.

Uncomfortable with her cool show I cleared my throat and said, "Women do seem to like the car." I was more excited than I should have been. 

She struggled with her seatbelt turning slightly toward me in the seat, her mini-skirt riding up high on her thighs, exposing her red panties. It was a weak charade but I reached over and helped her with it. My face was only 2 feet away from her panties which were visible under the skirt and I could see that her nipples were knotted beneath her thin tank top.

She wondered if Peter's cock was as big as the man's in the picture, wondered what it would feel like in her mouth and wondered if he would last longer than her boyfriend. Then, she thought of what her mother would do if she knew what she was planning. 

"Do you think I'm pretty Lance?"

She was in between that twilight zone of puberty and womanhood and I was sure she had some idea of what sex was about. I spoke with her as I drove. "You're a very pretty girl Stacy. I' think you probably have broken a few hearts." I stopped the car in front of the school.

As she was getting out of the car she felt her wet labia part. In her mind it sounded like a whip crack. "I liked the picture on your computer Lance," she said leaning her head back into the car.

I felt so strange, so enrapt by her mother but unable to keep my mind off the possibilities this gorgeous young girl offered. "I know," I said. She hesitated, her hands resting on the top of the car, her eyes holding mine, her rounded breasts pushing against her net bra, her nipples poking bumps in her tank top. 

"I don't want to sound like a slut," she said, "But I really liked seeing the picture on your computer. Would you share some more of your pictures with me sometime? 

Trying to sound paternal I said, "Look young lady, this is just a little too much sexual talk between a girl of 18 and a man of my age. You're going to be late for school." 

She pouted, closed the door and started walking on the sidewalk. I put the car in gear and started to move but was in conflict. I love sex...had many women since my divorce and had fantasized so often about making it with a young girl. I considered it just a fantasy, never believing it would ever happen. As I started to move I looked into the rearview mirror and saw Stacy running behind me, her breasts bouncing. She had a look of distress on her face and was trying to flag me down. I stopped, rolled down the window, where she stood out of breath, and panted.

"Oh m'god Lance! I left my senior essay in my room. Is there ANY way you can take me home, real quick, so I can get it?" She brushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes and begged, "Please Lance?"

On the way back to the house she said, "I bet my friends are sooo jealous!" She giggled. "You're a lifesaver Lance. I feel like such a creep." 

Clutching her backpack she slid back into the seat, leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, "I want to suck your cock." I couldn't believe what she said and thought I was hearing things, the shock of it making me stiffen. Her head went to my chest like she was listening to my heartbeat and her arms forced themselves between the seat and my body and embraced me. 

"Did you hear me Lance?" 

I should have struggled and forced her away but the adult in me had gone a.w.o.l. As her head went lower my cock was filling to capacity and I gave in and let the little predator have her way. 

As her fingers fumbled with my fly I rose up to make it easier. Her hand worked its way inside my fly then inside my boxers and felt her warm fingers surround my bulky erection. 

"Wow, it's so big." She said as she was pulling out then, holding it her hand she said, "Wow, it's all veiny...and...So...big!"

"You're a wild little girl Stacy," I managed to say before she whisked the crystal drop in my slit with her tongue. 

"Mmmmmm" she purred, her head against my abdomen, "It's juicy." 

I laid my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, felt my swollen penis being sucked between her lips and into her hot, slippery mouth, while her hand moved the loose skin over my muscled shaft. 

, 

Through a grunt I said, "You've done this before, haven't you Stacy?"

She pulled her mouth off and answered, "To my boyfriend," quietly stroking me and licking my head. "And," she said, kissing my head, opening her lips, sliding them to the rolled rim of the head of my cock and then back off, adding, "...five guys on the basketball team." 

She was quiet again, sucked me deep inside, made a muted moan, and, forming trough with her tongue, caressed the bottom of my shaft with its velvet taste buds.

In my ecstasy I was surprised at her expertise. There was no way a girl could be such a flirt, a tease and an outright tart and not have been pretty experienced. But I was still surprised it was happening to me. I winced when she sucked my head into her mouth again and licked the groove underneath, flicking it with the tip of her tongue. And I wondered if she did the five guys on the basketball team at the same time. She lifted my rigid cock and nibbled the bottom of my shaft then, with her head resting against my tummy, stroked me, slowly then faster, then real slow.

"Cocks are wonderful," she said, "and yours is big... so big...and so pretty." Her mouth covered me again.

I was approaching fifty years of age and had had my cock sucked by different women, maybe a thousand times over the years, some good, some not so good and some spectacular. But Stacy either had a natural gift or had done this a lot for a young girl, and I was on the verge. 

I didn't want her to think I was a pig and struggled to keep from coming in her mouth. She giggled as I grunted then took me all the way into her mouth, sucking hard, bobbing her head faster and faster. 

"Stacy," I said, trying to pry her head away, "I'm going to come." I pulled harder on her head trying to get her mouth off my cock then lost control and exploded. She gagged and grunted swallowing my sperm but kept sucking and bobbing. 

Giggling as she sat back in her seat she licked her lips and looked at me smiling. "Mmmm," she purred, "your load was like two guys but you don't taste as strong or as salty." 

She put her seatbelt on and said, "I'm late, I better get to school."

I started to drive, knowing she had planned the whole thing from the time she had cracked the door this morning, luring me to peep at her. I felt a rush of conflicting feelings: remorse, I've taken advantage of a high school girl, guilt, What if her mother finds out? Revulsion, I'm such an asshole and elation, But, I feel like a million dollars. 

Stacy started to laugh and I asked her what was so funny. "My thong is wet as a wash rag," she said raising her butt off the seat. Peeling her red panties down, she threw them into my lap. "I think you'll like these better than the ones you jacked off in yesterday, you perv."

We pulled up in front of the school and Stacy jumped out, calling back as she ran with a broad grin, "I think you're gonna have fun at our house Lance. I know I am." 

As I turned down the ramp onto the freeway I held Stacy's damp panties against my nose and said out loud, "This is going to be one hell of a work project," then gunned the Porsche into the passing lane.



Furnished Room Ch. 04



It was hard for me to concentrate on my work that day. I had realized one of my long time fantasies (getting a blowjob in my Porsche by a young girl). It wasn't that I hadn't experienced many delicious moments like that before, but never from a female under the age of thirty, a teenager no less. She was eighteen but still a teenager... a teenager far better at giving head than any woman I had been with before. Could it be a natural talent? Could her mother possess the same trait? I intended to find out. It was just a matter of how long it would take.

I wondered what she would think if she knew her precious daughter had gone down on her new boarder on the way to school...that I had come in her mouth and she loved it. It wasn't too hard to figure out. She would throw me out of the house on my ear.

The red thong Stacy left with me when she got out of the car was no longer wet. But, it still carried her delicate scent...now mixed with the smell of my semen which had left two large potato chips on the red fabric. The panty fetish had been part of my sexual universe since I began masturbating in my mother's and sister's undies when I was a teenager. I had long since lost my feeling of being a sleaze about this peculiar practice and it was only a matter of time before I would venture into Stacy's mother's bathroom and mark Claire's panties as part of my territory as well.

And, what about Claire? There was no doubt in my mind, after sensing her latent sexuality, that it would only be a matter of time before I would be experiencing the pleasures of her body. I never intended to have anything to do with her daughter but Stacy was a predator, a Circe to my Ulysses and it would have taken more than wax in my ears to resist her siren call. Claire would be pissed if she found out all right. I knew that my experience with Stacy wouldn't stop at one blowjob and I would have to pick my spots. As far as getting anywhere with Claire was concerned, there was no question that I had to get Claire out of the house somewhere, or wait for a time when we were there alone and Stacy wasn't. Bout how would that happen? The answer was incredibly simple and I would have nothing to do with it. I began to believe that this whole episode in my life was serendipity. 

Just as I pulled my car into the garage (It was 5:35) a silver Escalade pulled up in front of the house and a beautiful Latina, about 5' 6" with long black hair hanging down almost to her ass, got out. She had a hot body which was highlighted by her tight designer jeans and a black Bison's sweatshirt. When I came into the house through the garage she was talking with Stacy and her Claire. I saw Stacy's backpack and duffel sitting on the floor beside the door. The girl cast a quizzical glance in my direction.

"He's the guy with the Porsche outside," Stacy said, looking at me with a barely noticeable smirk. "He's taken the room." Claire quickly noticed the lapse and introduced the girl to me as Selena and told me that she was taking Stacy over to the University of Colorado for the weekend. 

The look on Selena's face told me that she had considerable wisdom for her a young college girl. I could see her mind working as her eyes moved slyly from me to Claire to Stacy. "Welcome to Denver," she said with a sweet smile. "I know you'll like it here." There was a twinkle in her eye that I perceived had a deeper meaning than the words. 

Selena, a long time friend of the family, was finishing her freshman year at the University of Colorado in Boulder. She was taking Stacy, who would be staying with her in her dorm room, for a pre-enrollment weekend on the campus. 

After the girls had left I told Claire that I needed to talk with her...that, since she was insisting upon treating me like a family member rather than just a mere roomer I was going to increase my monthly payment from $400 to $1000. Her face flushed and her eyes welled with tears that didn't spill over the lids. She hugged me and thanked me...told me that finances were very tight and my generosity was a godsend. Her embrace felt more to me than gratitude though, it felt more like her flesh was hungry for the touch of another body. Gently, she pushed me away, dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and said, "Well, it's time that I get working on dinner."

I enjoy cooking and it was natural for me to offer my help so I said, "Let me do it Claire." 

It was apparent that she wasn't accustomed to being catered to by a man. She resisted at first but gave in easier than I would have expected, told me that she wanted to get out of her work clothes and take a shower. So, while I began busying myself in the kitchen she went upstairs and was gone for about forty-five minutes. I was ready to put the steaks on the grill when I heard her coming down the stairs.

Barefoot, she was dressed in a tight fitting pair of Levis and an electric blue t-shirt with a Nike Swoop just above her left breast. She wasn't wearing a bra and the evidence of large her nipples almost made me catch my breath. It was hard to not ogle them but I was able to catch enough of a view in my peripheral vision. The Levis acted as a wonderful showcase for her shapely bottom...there were no panty lines. The seam of her crotch was pulled between her lips, showing the puffy outlines of her labia, proving my earlier theory that she was more comfortable not wearing panties. Her hair wasn't completely dry but had been brushed out and its lustrous auburn sheen was enhanced by its dampness.

Dinner was relaxing, she had set the table in the dining room with nice china and sterling silver, lit candles and put on an Enya CD, and we finally had the chance to get to know each other a little better. We talked about the work I was doing surveying schools for computer installations, I told her about my divorce, the inability and/or desire that I hadn't formed a permanent relationship by virtue of my being out of town so much. She told me about her husband, how he had sunk them into horrendous debt from his compulsive gambling and how he was trying to recoup it all with a hazardous job in Afghanistan. I asked if she was lonely for him and she said no, that, if they could get their feet on the ground she intended to divorce him.

"I know this is a very personal question Claire," I said, "But have you found anybody who might replace him."

Her cheeks tinged pink and she told me that she hadn't, although, her boss had made moves on her. But, he was married and she wasn't interested in the kind of relationship that could end up costing her job. She was into her church...said that she needed some kind of stability in her life and didn't want to get the reputation of being a cheat. A relationship with a man, at this point in her life, wasn't a luxury that she could have afforded; that would have to wait until she was free of debt—and her husband. "Besides, I want to get Stacy settled into college before I do anything."

It wasn't exactly a guilty feeling when she mentioned Stacy's name. But, I couldn't get the image of her daughter's young head bobbing up and down on me...and the feeling of her delicious mouth and tongue working like a seasoned pro on my cock...and the exhilarating, sapping feeling of my load bursting in her mouth. But the thought of it and the thoughts I had, as I lay in bed the night before, made me want Clair even more.

I got up from the table and started clearing the dishes but Claire told me to leave them, suggesting that we go into family room and have a brandy. Sitting on the couch across from me she sipped from her snifter. She looked sexy and vulnerable and I really wanted to make love to her. The way she was acting, I thought she felt the same about me and blurted, "This is such an incredibly awkward situation Claire." Arresting me with her clear hazel eyes, it appeared that she was having a difficult time formulating a response. "I never intended renting the room from you," I went on. "I just wanted to see what the woman with your sexy voice looked like."

"I know, Lance," she said. "I should never have gone through with it... particularly with Stacy in the house." Her eyes continued to rivet mine. "She's a lot older than her years. I hope I haven't done the wrong thing." 

It seemed that she had a greater dilemma than just me. Stacy's warm, wet mouth was working on my cock again and I found my desires for Claire intensifying. 

I tried being philosophical. "Who knows what's right and wrong Claire? I have found that sometimes what seems to be entirely wrong turns out to be incredibly right. She smiled as if she wanted to agree, swirled the brandy snifter, sniffed it then drank more than a sip and contemplated.

"I don't know why I feel like confessing to you Lance. There was something about you when we first met that made me think that you should know about my past. I was wild when I was Stacy's age—and even before."

"So?" I responded, "I was too."

"But you were a boy."

The image of Stacy sucking my cock flashed again and transmuted to the image of a young Claire sucking a cock. Then it was replaced by another, of her lying on her back with her legs spread, being fucked. How many times?

"I paid the price by getting pregnant and marrying Ted. Stacy is a wonderful part of my life, Lance. Ted is a nightmare. But Stacy is so much like me, such a flirt...and, I'm afraid she is acting the same way I did when I was her age. She's such a beautiful girl. I don't want her to get hurt."

I got up from my chair, walked over to the couch, stood in front of Claire and asked, "Are you still a wild girl Claire?" The reddish glow in her cheeks told me that she was excited by the question. "Maybe that's why you don't wear panties." She put her free hand over her face as if to hide.

"Oh my," she said, her eyes peeking over her fingers, "Is it that obvious?"

"You have a spectacular body, Claire." I noticed her large nipples making more noticeable dents in her blue sweatshirt. She pulled her legs more tightly under her, "It's apparent to me that you know it... and like to show off a little." She blushed deep red.

"More than a little, Lance; I love to show off. And I love the way men look at me. Do you think that terrible of me?" 

"On the contrary Claire, it excites me." I sat down on the couch, beside her. "As a matter of fact, after following you up the stairs yesterday and watching you wiggle your unpantied ass, then seeing the look in your eyes when I sat down and tested the bed, I realized that the sexy voice on the phone matched the woman I had come to see...that's why I rented the room. I've never rented a room before, Claire." When I put my arm around she willingly nestled into me.

The sophisticated woman I had met the day before became putty and, when I touched under her chin and raised her face, I saw hunger in her eyes, a hunger that would not be satisfied by a snack. We kissed. Her lips were soft and yielding. Her mouth opened and beckoned my tongue to explore. Crowded with two tongues her muted moans of were trapped inside and her breath whistled through her nostrils. My hand found its way under her blue sweatshirt and I thrilled at the sensation of her naked skin. She writhed when I fondled her breast and had to break the kiss to breathe. With her head resting on my chest she gasped then heaved and said, "Oh God, Lance, I've needed this so much. Take me to bed..."



Furnished Room Ch. 05



It was too good to be true, like something you would read in an erotic story. But there I was, living in a fabulous house in Denver with a beautiful woman, from whom I had rented a room, who had just asked me to take her to bed. I'd felt confident it would happen eventually but was surprised it did so fast. Everything seemed to be happening fast in that house. Her daughter, a stunning high school student, age eighteen, was a world class flirt... had boldly given me a blowjob in my car that morning. And then, the mother was asking me to go to bed that very evening. I wondered when the alarm would go off and wake me from my delicious dream.

Stacy, the daughter, had conveniently left for a weekend stay with her girlfriend at the University of Colorado. Claire (her mother) and I had a delicious and relaxing dinner where we learned a lot about each other's lives and ended up on the couch schmoozing with a brandy, kissing and petting. "Oh God, Lance," she said, "Take me to bed." And there we were, walking into Claire's bedroom.

From the time I talked with her on the phone the day before, when I was looking for a place to stay during my extended project in Denver, I had fantasized something like that. But how many times before had I thought that very thing when talking with a sexy woman. We were in her bedroom, all right, and Claire was panting. 

I kissed her and pulled her tight, our abdomens undulating against one another's. My left hand cupped her soft cheek, made hard by the tight denim of her Levis. Working the steel button loose I zipped down her fly. Her tummy was soft and pillowy and I could tell as I explored that her bush was neatly trimmed. 

Our kissing was delicious, her lips were soft. Unlike so many women I had been with she didn't suck my tongue so hard that my teeth irritated the bottom...just opened her mouth and let my tongue do the work. Hers merely played with mine as I tongue-fucked her mouth, her tongue darting inside my mouth as if it had been a longed for guest. It was delicious.

"I dreamed of you making love to me last night, Lance," she said. "I couldn't sleep and thought about what your cock might look like. May I see it?" It was a statement of how much a lady Claire was; she didn't assume that she could just grab me. 

She had the feel of a submissive woman, not a slave, but one who liked to be directed. "Just unzip me and take it out Claire," I said and she did. "Take a closer look, if you would like." Holding my cock she lowered herself to her knees and looked up at me. "Is it to your liking," I asked. 

Studying it like it was the first hard penis she had ever seen she held it on her palm and hefted it then pressed it against her cheek. "It's warm and veiny," she said, "The head is so smooth...shaped like a helmet." She touched it with her middle finger and smoothed the entire expanse of my head as if trying to discover a treasure. (My cock is 7 ½" long, thick enough to just fit inside a toilet paper tube if I powder or lube it. The head is mauve with an almost perfect helmet shape, very shiny when erect, as it was then).

"Oh Lance," she said, "I have always loved cocks so much." With the palm of her hand she held mine against her cheek again then wrapped her fingers around it and stroked, making the outer skin move so far back that the tight drum of my head bent my cock. She stroked me fast and ,again, held it against her cheek.

I kicked off my topsiders and dropped my pants, stepping out of them. Taking her hand off my cock, I peeled down my silk boxers. She pressed my erection against my naked belly and, with her left hand, cupped my balls (My balls, like scallions, are larger than many men's' and hang loosely in the bottom of my sack about four inches below my cock.) then hefted them with her palm. 

Stretching the loose skin of my cock forward, halfway over its head, she kissed my balls, sucking at the right one. Having gathered saliva in her mouth, my testicle slipped easily through her lips and was soaked in the warm bath of her spittle. The feeling, the astonishing way she so gently sucked it between her lips and into her mouth, made me think that she could take a cracked egg and suck the white and yolk in and out many times without separating or breaking the yolk. 

Opening her mouth wider she captured both of them, extending her tongue so far that I could feel the tip halfway between my scrotum and anus. The way she tantalized my balls made me think they were growing in her mouth. I was in a state of ecstasy so intense that I couldn't distinguish pleasure from pain. Thus, it was no surprise that, when she stroked outward on my cock, squeezing and milking it, the inevitable clear drop that usually formed in my slit was more like a crystal stream. Deftly, Claire caught the string with her tongue then worked the slick, seminal fluid so expertly over my glans(the head of my cock) that a shock started in my asshole and shot up my spine. Flexing up and down like a carousel horse it was all I could do to maintain my balance. 

Claire's lips compressed like an o-ring around my throbbing erection, drawing tighter as it slipped toward the end, tighter still over the rim of my head and down the taper, coming off with dull "pop." A sliver filament, thin as a spider's thread, stretched between my glans and her lips until it broke. and, again she extended her tongue as far as she could; troughed it to hold my cock like a hotdog in a bun, then worked her velvet bumps against the bottom of my shaft. Though her mouth was wet her tongue felt dry, almost like that of a cat, and as she raked my sensitive organ she tickled me into state of ecstasy. 

Earlier that day, Stacy had given me head in the car and did it so well that I wondered if she had a natural talent. Claire's presentation told me that Stacy's performance was in the genes.

My body was quivering so much that I knew I wouldn't be able to hold back unless I got her mouth off my cock. So I took Claire's hands and helped her to her feet, hugged her to me, flattening her breasts on my chest and nuzzled her nose with mine, kissing her and holding her head to my chest long enough to quell my urge. "Take your clothes off Claire." I said, "It's time for me to repay your kindness."

She removed her sweatshirt and Levis like she was auditioning for a strip show. With her clothes off she pouted her full lips and slid her hands up and down her hips. I still wasn't sure of her age and guessed it in the mid 40's. She had had one child (Stacy) but no stretch marks, nor a C-section scar. Her lipstick had come off from kissing and sucking my cock and, truth be told, she looked even sexier and more appealing without it. Except for a small red birthmark shaped almost like a W on her left breast, in between the nipple and the top of her breast, and a slight pooch of her tummy, her body was almost perfectly proportioned (She later confirmed that her measurements were 34-24-34). Her breasts were still perky, nicely rounded on the bottom and her nipples and areolas were light pink. Her nipples, shaped like pencil erasers, were redder; they stood out just like an eraser on a new pencil. Her bush, darker than her hair, was trimmed to a perfect wedge with no loose curls. As I admired her body I absently stroked my cock. 

Back to my purpose I gently commanded, "Lie down on the bed, Claire." 

She folded back the brown chenille spread and vanilla wool blanket and lay down on the ecru sheet, eying me expectantly. Smiling, I stroking myself and milked the pause to see what she would do. She placed her palms on her soft, white belly, caressed her tummy then, emitting muffled moans held in her closed mouth, she smoothed her hands to her breasts. Holding the hollow of her palms to her nipple tips she extended her fingers to the expanse of her tits and drew them outward, closing her fingers on her nipples and rolling them (another muffled moan). Smoothing her flat hands down her sides and hips she spread her legs, smoothed her hands to her pussy, placed the middle finger of her right hand on her clitoris and opened her mouth into a tiny ova, emitting a long "oooh." Looking into my eyes she rocked her hips, closed her legs on her hand then longingly eyed my extended cock. 

"That's enough Claire." I commanded, "I'll take care of that." Obediently, she moved her hand away. Grasping her ankles I turned her on the bed and she scootched her bottom to help. Pulling her further, until her ass was almost off the bed, I lowered myself to my knees. She whimpered like a puppy that was starving for attention, automatically raising her legs. I draped them over my shoulders and they broke at the knees, her feet resting on my back. She stiffened like a child awaiting a shot. 

I pressed her delicately puffed lips with my thumbs and they opened with a tiny, wet "click." Her vulva, a light brownish pink, had long labia, it showed a substantial gash, which would accommodate a thick cock. Her clitoris was large, shaped like a lima bean, and, except for the tip which protruded about a sixteenth of an inch, was covered by a thin lambskin-like hood. 

Claire's body, her breath whistling through her nostrils, became even more rigid, and, when I touched the tip of her clitoris with the tip of my tongue it was like a spark of static electricity. She jumped, wheezed a loud gasp and her whole body shuddered. I couldn't believe how excited she was, how pent up she must have been, and that she had orgasmed so unpredictably. Her body trembled as I covered her entire vulva with my mouth and laved her slick groove with my wet tongue. "Oh God Lance," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry... I've just needed this so badly." I caressed her breasts and, in my own desire, continued devouring her while allowing her to release her pressure through her tears. This brought her to another, less dramatic orgasm. 

I had only been with a couple of women who experienced vaginal orgasms with me and didn't yet know if Claire would be one of those. The way she had been reacting though, with my mouth on her pussy, I imagined that she might be pretty wild in a fervent fuck. After the first jolt, it was one after another every couple of minutes, each one graduating in intensity...each one causing her to gasp just a little louder and her head to waggle more uncontrollably. My mouth had been on her pussy for almost half an hour and my tongue was getting tired. I attempted to lift my head but she said, "Please." I knew that she responded to dominant commands but I didn't want to break the magic. At one point I was surprised when she said, "You even do this better than a woman." I had been with many women who had complimented my cunilingual style but never to that degree. So, though tired, I'd been charmed into going the extra mile. But I needed a break. 

Trying for one more thrill I eased her legs higher and brought my tongue to her perineum (the space between her anus and pussy) then lowered them and slid my tongue to her clitoris. She squealed in pleasure and I did it again, this time rimming her wrinkly anus and returning to her clitoris (another orgasm). I laid my head on her abdomen to let her settle then lifted her legs again, this time rimming her anus and probing it. Her cheeks clenched tightly and forced my tongue out. When the clench eased I spread her cheeks wide, compressed my lips on her rosebud and expelling into her ass, the large volume of saliva I had collected in my mouth. She exploded in a burst of orgasmic frenzy and cried out, "Fuck me Lance! Fuck me!" I was about to find out about vaginal orgasms.

Sometimes I think about what I experienced at Claire Moore's house in Denver and I wonder if it was really that exciting, that satisfying, that...perfect. Since I began writing about the experience the excitement has returned; I have been working in a virtual state of erection and confess that I have ejaculated numerous times. No other set of circumstance in my life has ever caused me to feel this way.

I had been constantly erect since we began kissing in the living room. Since staving off the near ejaculation, when Claire was sucking my cock, I had the feeling that I could fuck all night without coming. My phallus felt locked in a teen-like erection, the veins rising in blue relief and the mauve head tight as a drum, shining like a polished door knob. 

I had lost count of the number of times Claire had come and, when she cried out for me to fuck her, I knew I needed to be inside her as badly as she wanted to feel my cock filling her. Rising from my knees I positioned myself with my right hand and used the fingers of my left to spread her lips. She had moved her ass deeper on to the bed, her legs were bent and spread, her feet were flat on the mattress. The large lips of her pussy, bright red from the constant kissing of my lips and licking of my tongue, had become swollen. It's hard not to idealize it. Each time Claire and had I fucked during my stay in her house was heavenly. But the first time was surreal; I remember each quarter inch. As my tapered head opened Claire's gash I felt like I'd been there before but I had never entered a pussy that felt like I was actually ordained to be there. Her pussy took me in so easily yet held me tight. Like Cinderella's slipper it was a perfect fit and we were both so eager to dance. As my hardness filled her we both gasped. For the first time in my life I felt like I was experiencing the woman's pleasure as well as mine. 

Her hazel eyes had become saucers, widening as my cock seated inside her sheath. She held her arms up to me and, in the lager of her embrace, I nestled my body against her stomach and breasts. Hungrily, she kissed my glistening face, telling me how much she loved tasting herself on me and sniffing her scent. As she kissed me she wrapped her legs around my waist and the muscles of her vagina grasped my cock then relaxed as she whispered, "Fuck my cunt Lance."

Slowly, at first, I pumped my rod in and out of her slippery glove. Each thrust widened her eyes and educed a whimpered sigh. Then, I stepped up my thrusts and her sighs became "yes, Yes," and then "YES." Faster, my cock plunged, our abdomens slapping to throaty grunts, and withdrew each time to a rasping gasp. Her toes reached for the ceiling with each stab of my cock and her head waggled widely. Perspiration beaded above Claire's mouth and her jaws became tight as if she were trying to hold back.

"Come for me Claire," I commanded and the response was immediate. With her arms straight out she slapped the mattress, at the same time exploding a rasping shriek. Her arms froze flat against the mattress and her legs quivered like a dying animal. Her body quaked the shudder of an epileptic and her breath swooshed in and out between puckered lips and clenched teeth. Her body gave three violent jerks and her legs crushed me in their embrace, rolled my on my side and she finally relaxed. 

I thought she had fallen asleep holding with her legs when, after about five minutes she said, "Your still hard Lance. Can't you come?" 

I told her that I had been hard so long that I felt blocked. "But, maybe, if I masturbated and concentrated I could ejaculate."

"Can I watch you jack off," She asked.

With a broad smile I slid my hard cock from her slippery hole then straddled her belly and began jerking. Grunting, I felt myself loosen. She had raised her head, her eyes having never left my cock. 

"Open your mouth, Claire," I commanded and she complied. 

Clenching my teeth I felt something coming that I had never felt before. It felt like, after a raging rainstorm, the dam was going to burst...and it did. I had always come abundantly but this time, as the stream jetted from my slit, it still felt like it was being produced in my balls. I came in gouts, squirting into Claire's mouth and it sounding like a seltzer fountain filling a glass. She gagged, gulped and swallowed...three times. 

She was exhausted and, after spooning with me for about fifteen minutes, fell into a deep sleep. I was happy; satisfied with the most fantastic sex I had ever experience. But, after the my busy day: being sucked off by Stacy in the car, jacking off twice with the red panties she left with me, and making love to Claire with what seemed a terminal erection, my balls ached and I needed sleep. 



Furnished Room Ch. 06



It was an incredible weekend... an astounding two days. 

An ad in the paper at the Waffle House about a room for rent had peaked my interest, I don't know why. The woman on the phone (Claire Moore) had an incredibly sexy voice that compelled me to meet her. And there I was moving into a house with a lonely married woman whose husband was out of the country for months and her gorgeous, and seductive, eighteen year old daughter. That was on Thursday. 

The Moore house was filled with more sexual tension than any other place I had ever been. Feeling the aura of those two females that first night was like I was a stag in rut and I couldn't sleep. On Friday morning I gave Stacy a ride to school...a ride that ended up in her giving me a blowjob. I thought her an inexperienced teenager but found It ended in a blowjob from one whom I young woman who turned out to be one of the most adept fellators I had ever encountered. She went away for the weekend with a friend (Selena), which started the adventure with her mother, a love fest that nearly wore out my sexual parts. A blow job in the car by Stacy, jacking off twice in the car with the panties she left with me and finally the weekend with Claire, what more could I expect? Three days into my three month stay in Denver and I couldn't believe my incredible good fortune.

Friday evening with Claire started downstairs with kissing and petting in the living room and ended up in her bedroom where we engaged in extensive foreplay. I ate her pussy for over half an hour and she sucked my cock, showing me that the Moore women's capacity for good fellatio was a family trait. We engaged in a marathon fuck that night that left us both exhausted...and went to sleep in cuddling spoon. Claire awoke me (or should I say aroused?) about three a.m. with her mouth on my hard cock... and suckled me to ejaculation. Further copulation had to wait until morning; we were both exhausted. 

We spent a lot of time in bed on Saturday and Sunday. What was so unbelievable about the experience was how perfectly we meshed as a sexual couple. It was as if we had been with each other for years. Whether or not size matters, our parts fit like fingers in a fine kid glove. In between our love making we talked...and talked....and talked. I told her about my divorce, the many women I had been involved with, a frequent disappointment, since the divorce and the fact that I had never been with another woman who had satisfied me so completely, either in marriage or outside of it. 

Claire told me about her life, how she had been a cheerleader in high school, was sexually curious and active with many boys, said that her fascination was with cocks and sucking them and tasting what spilled into her mouth (that explained her expertise in sucking). Ted Moore came along and swept her off her feet, as well as making her pregnant with Stacy. Ted resented marrying so soon under the cloud of a baby coming and their marriage hadn't turned out well. He finished college with Claire working full time while being a young mother and became a successful civil engineer. He made a lot of money, then, started gambling. His gambling put the family into financial jeopardy and Claire stopped having sex with him...for about two years. He took the job in Afghanistan, a high risk, high paying job with forced savings that had the potential to wipe out their debts. She would leave him when that came about.

She told me she had never had sex with another man since she married, said she had been hoping someone would come along and fill her need, and, was set aflame by the spark that was ignited when I first walked into the house. Then, she told about a woman friend (Selena's mother) who had brought her into the world of bisexuality and had introduced her to the joys of cunnilingus and a woman's touch...and tongue...and being fucked and fucking with a strap-on, experiences, she confided, she would continue to seek.

She knew that Stacy was like her when she was young; socializing with too many boys. There were always boys...and she was often with more than one. Claire suspected that Stacy had been bringing a boy, or boys, into the house while she was at work. And, she had been called by a male teacher—in strict confidence—that he thought Stacy had propositioned him. "I was amazed that he'd called," she said, "and that he didn't take her up on her suggestion. One of my teachers did." When I asked how she felt about him calling she said, "I'm terrible Lance, all I could think about was how his cock would feel in my mouth, and how his cum would taste. You must think I'm a slut."

I let her in on my fetish for digging dirty panties out of hampers and that I had actually jacked off a few times with Stacy's. That turned her on and she insisted that I go through her hamper and show me how I did it, lying on the bed and masturbating while I jerked in her panties. We both climaxed, after which she cajoled me into licking my semen out of the panties and kissing her. Kinky women have always been such a turn-on for me. Maybe I'm the slut.

She told me that Stacy would probably proposition me also and asked me to behave myself. I didn't tell her that she already had, asking her how she would feel if I ever did anything. She was quiet for a long time after I asked then said, "I seduced my uncle when I was sixteen and we kept the affair going for eight years... until he moved away." 

I was standing in front of the living room fireplace, looking at the picture of Claire, her husband and Stacy when I saw in the mirror the reflection through the front window of Selena's black Escalade stopping in front of the house. I looked at my watch, it was 6:13. 

Stacy got out of the car and waited for Selena to join her from the driver's side. They looked at each other and laughed, held hands and walked toward the house. When the door opened I turned and Stacy looked at me with a smirk. Selena smiled broadly. "Have a good weekend," I asked and they gave each other a knowing look, reached out and gave each other's hand a squeeze.

"I think I'm going to have a lot better time at college than I've been having at high school," Stacy said. 

It seemed to me like she had been having a pretty good time with her high school boy "friends," and I wondered what could be more fun. Then the body language between Selena and Stacy triggered the memory of the conversation Claire and I had about her involvement with Selena's mother and the pieces began falling into place. I thought about Claire's body entangled with another woman's and projected the possibility of Selena's mother sharing her knowledge with her daughter, who in turn passed the knowledge to a neophyte. 

Sunday night was uneventful, everybody was tired. The next morning Claire took Stacy to school. Apparently her weekend with Selena took the edge off her horns. For me it was a blessing. My parts had been overworked the past few days and I needed a time out. As the week progressed there was no activity with Claire. She made it clear that she wouldn't do anything with Stacy in the house. But she went out twice in the evenings, nights that Stacy had extra curricular activities. I wondered if she might have been spending time with Selena's mother.

I went to bed before eleven Thursday night and had the same dream I had the first night, where Claire was kneeled over my body, deliciously sucking my cock. But it was more realistic than the first, more lifelike than any dream I'd ever experienced. I woke up before I came. The clock said it was 2:00 a.m. My covers had been peeled back diagonally, enough to expose my middle and Claire's mouth was actually suckling me, licking me, her lips sliding over my penis, taking me deep inside her warm, moist oral cavity then sliding off, the saliva cooling my exposed shaft. When she took me deep again it was almost deep throat, except that she gagged and backed off. It was ecstasy to be awakened this way and I assumed that she had backed off her resolve to keep our involvement under wraps when Stacy was in the house. Lacing my fingers in her hair I helped guide her head. But there was something different; her hair was longer than Claire's. It was Stacy!

I can't imagine that there are too many men, even those who are permanently and happily married—the ones who go out of town on business and stay overnight in a hotel and fantasize that some woman will knock on his door and engage him in gratuitous sex—who would stop the progress of a blowjob in session, particularly when his balls were in the process of exploding into a warm mouth, as mine did into Stacy's.

"Mmmm," she purred, smacking her lips with the silky sound of unswallowed wet sperm. She laid her head on my bare stomach licking the residual semen from my last ejaculation and whispered, "I love cocks Lance...and I luvvv cum."

Like mother, like daughter, I thought having been told, over the weekend, the very same thing by Claire...about how she sucked cocks as a young girl and loved the feel of cum squirting in her mouth, and the individual taste of each ejaculator's semen. 

She kept sucking me until my cock was a completely soft and wrinkled organ that only fit the need for urinating. Then she covered me with her t-shirt clad body and kissed my lips, filling my senses with the smell of her breath that was mingled with my fresh semen. She stripped off her tee, slid her legs under the covers and nestled against my body, pulling the sheet back over us. Her body was soft, yet youthfully fit. She was warm and her breasts were silky smooth and soft against my back. The bottom of her feet smoothed over the top of mine and she whispered, "Don't worry about Mom Lance. You couldn't wake her up with dynamite." I breathed a sigh of relief.

As her fingers toyed with my flaccid penis and loose testicles she said, "I learned something new with Selena." Guessing what she would tell me I didn't respond, simply awaited her next words. Her fingernails scratched through my pubic hair then gently traced up my stomach to my nipples where she scraped them, flipping them...making them stand out strait. "I ate Selena's pussy and she ate mine."

"Did you like it?"

"I loved it," she enthused. "I had world-class orgasms."

"When Selena came to pick you up Friday night," I said, "I knew there was a wildness about her, a sophistication...a maturity."

"Well," Stacy whispered, "It's not as if she learned it all by herself. She's been doing it with her mother since before she went to college."

"Did that shock you when she told you?"

"Kinda... I never thought much about our moms being sexy like that and..." My cock had gotten hard again and Stacy was jacking it slowly. She seemed to be contemplating what she would say next. "And..." She laid her head on my stomach and sniffled, her hand still working the loose outer skin of my erect penis. "Selena's mother and Mom are having sex together."

"Doesn't sound like you approve, Stacy," I said. The conversation seemed surreal, a philosophical conversation being conducted while my cock was being stroked by a young girl, which in and of itself was astounding. I wasn't interested in her stopping and fully expected that we were going to get quite a bit further involved.

"It was kinda... just a shock," She said, her sniffles having stopped. "After I found out how wonderful making love with Selena was, and she told me about her mom...and Mom, I just found it hard to believe that she could be doing those things with Selena's... mother. But Selena explained to me how lonely Mom is... and how needy she is for sex." She sniffled again and said," She said Mom and Daddy haven't been having sex for... a long time. 

"So how does that make you feel, Stacy?"

"Weird. But then, while we were driving home I thought about how beautiful making love with Selena was and couldn't hate my mom for getting the same kind of enjoyment from Selena's mother. It's not like she's being unfaithful to Daddy or anything. But... I don't want to think about it right now Lance. Let's fuck."

She threw her leg over my body and pushed herself up, straddling me. By the way she took control of my cock, holding it to her opening, I knew she had completed this move many times before. The wet glove of her pussy slid down my cock which fit inside her like it was just the perfect size (most pussies are that way, but it still amazes me when it works that way). Awash in the pleasure of being inside a gorgeous, young girl, I fondled her breasts, pushing on them and circling them against her chest. 

She squeezed my cock hard inside her and reached down with both hands working her clitoris with her fingers. Squeezing me tighter with her cunt she masturbated, wiggling and writhing until she sniffed deeply, held her breath, froze—squeezing me even tighter—and shuddered. Through the darkness I could see her mouth form into an oval and heard her breath whistling a low tone. Then, she started riding me, one hand in the air like a bronco rider, her ass smack, smack, smacking against my hips and abdomen. 

I was on the verge of coming and hissed, "Get off Stacy, I'm not protected."

"Fuck it," she said and rode me even harder until I exploded gouts of sperm inside her. She kept pumping, her breath coming in gasps, her slippery channel, even slipperier with my sperm. She worked against my then painfully sensitive head, until she froze, twitched, her pussy grasping my cock with intermittent grasps and fell, gasping for breath, on top of me.

She collapsed on me for a few minutes while her breathing steadied then giggled a whispered, "I'm on the pill," and abruptly rolled off me and the bed. "It's 3:30 Lance," she said. "I better sneak back to my room...