16 comments/ 75620 views/ 47 favorites Our Tattered Lives By: fermpera This is my rewritten and edited story I published before as --Torn lives--. I have to thank two people. My editor Johnny Galt who with his constant prodding questions and suggestions made that the story changed for the better and I'm also in debt to fellow author CPBaudelaire who the 03/14/12 wrote a number of suggestions to improve the story in his comment to Torn Lives. To both of them, many thanks. There is NO; I repeat NO underage (under 18 years old) sexual relationship of any kind in my story F * Prologue The yell was almost deafening to the 15 year boy, his hand about to grab and stroke the turgid breast and he cringed as if bitten by a scorpion. His face was a mask of confusion as he sent a look of heartbroken bewilderment to his mother, not understanding the reason for such a fierce cry. He was just trying to do what he thought both of them wanted. What she had been asking for with her endless and merciless erotically charged flirting in recent weeks. "WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? YOU PERVERT " His mother, still gorgeous at 35 was the centre of his dreams and the cause of his unwanted, endless nocturnal emissions. "Nothing, I...I...I just thought..." "What did you "just think", you little pervert, trying to grope your mother that way" "I...I...I'm sorry mom.....I. I. I was... just...." stammered the boy, and with a sob darted away. He ran, ran, and ran out and away from home, his mother's cry, who he loved with a desperate passion was piercing his eardrums in her scorn and rejection. He swore to himself never again would he be in a position so humiliating with any woman, least of all with his mother. While the tears flowed freely down his cheeks he promised himself never again be humiliated in this way by any person in the whole world. *1* It was a dark night several months later. Rain and sleet were coming down in sheets and the wind was sweeping it around furiously. Doors and windows were trembling against the onslaught of both air and water on the dilapidated house where some street people had taken refuge. Pierce Bridgeport, because of the wet cold was almost sick. It was a dreadful night. The blanket over him was not thick enough to keep the cold from seeping in and the small brazier next to his mattress on the floor was too weak to keep anything warm. There wasn't heat, only a small comfort in the dim red glow coming from the few, almost burned out coals, overwhelmed every now and again by the bright lightning in the skies. He was counting his heartbeats to keep his attention away from the roaring thunder and to occupy his thoughts with something other than the weather and memories of his parents, mostly of his mother; and of his warm bed and comfortable room in what he now thought of as his lost forever home. At sixteen and protected from the worst aspects of life, nature's ferocity was unsettling to say the least. Somewhere along the way, in the wee hours of the night, the cold became even more biting, when his body started to shiver, he realized that the red glow from the brazier had died. The coals had gone out and there were only ashes. He curled himself into as tight a ball as he could; wrapped himself from all around to minimize the cold coming inside the blanket and started praying. Night was more than half over and the rain wasn't showing any signs of subsiding and he started dreaming. ******** *A boy's dream* Natasha Bridgeport stretched her long, slender body on the huge towel, the hot sun heating her. She rested her face on crossed arms, her smoldering eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Her rich luxuriant blonde white hair moved lazily in the slight breeze of the hot afternoon. Sitting at her side, her young son Pierce was pouring tanning oil onto her back, rubbing it into her satiny flesh; his hands felt good on her skin, the slow way they moved up and down from her shoulders to her skimpy bikini bottom. She had untied her halter, not wanting to have a tell-tale strip of white on her back. It was bad enough she had to wear the bottoms. Natasha would have preferred to have been nude, completely naked to the rays of the midday sun. But she certainly couldn't strip off with her son there, could she? Even with no one else around. She didn't like going to the public beach much, it was better for her purposes to be at the pool in her backyard. She murmured softly as Pierce's hands kept up their movements, massaging her flesh gently, almost too lightly. She shifted her shoulders, finding a more comfortable pressure on her tits. To look at her, one would have thought she was dozing as her son rubbed the oil into her flesh, but Natasha was wide awake, her eyes open behind the dark sunglasses. She was watching her son, her eyes taking in the changes in his body, the shapes and forms of his abs, his young muscles, and the bulge below. "Your skin is so soft, Mom," she heard Pierce say softly. "Mmmm," she replied lazily. "I like to feel your skin," He said as he worked his hands up and down her back. She purred with pleasure, gazing at her son, her eyes fixed upon the enticing bulge of his swimsuit. She wondered how big the boy's cock was, how big his balls were, if they were full, loaded. Natasha liked full balls, hot balls. She especially liked what they contained. She then turned around on the towel and sat. "Darling, would you mind getting me a paper towel, please?" He looked at her and saw her hand putting thin drops of milky sun cream over the front her body to protect her of the sun's rays; the cream appeared to be leaking from her exposed and engorged nipple. He stared mesmerised a few moments too long and when he came to his senses he found his mother staring right into the boner he was sporting with a huge grin on her face. He blushed and immediately went into the kitchen. It took him a few seconds to get his wits about him and remember why he had come inside the house. That gorgeous shinning breast with its dark angry red nipple was making him crazy. Then he looked for and found the paper towels, grabbing a handful and carrying them to her. His mother laughed when she looked up to see him standing there handing her almost the whole pack. She looked up at the boy who appeared almost drunk and at the bulge in his shorts and said laughingly, "Your big little brother down there thinks mommy made a big mess with the sun screen, doesn't he? Yes he does." She looked up and smiled. "I only need one, Sweetie." With shaking hands he ripped the first towel from the pack to shreds and cursed under his breath for being so stupid. "It's all right, Baby. There are plenty more where that came from," his mom had told him. And then, when he felt it, he almost fainted. His mom's foot was pressing against the inside of his leg, just below the knee, her toes were lightly scraping and playing as he was standing in front of her. She chuckled again and he quickly tore off another paper towel and waited as she wiped her fingers and then her bare breast. Sweat drops dribbled between and under her breasts and she roughly ran the paper towel up and across her breast and nipples. He was almost catatonic and couldn't bring himself to move from his position in front of his mother, and then her foot pressed harder against his leg had and moved up and down his cal. He had wondered at the moment if he was misreading things; that she was just using his leg to keep balance and not flirting with him. But she knew, yes she knew her impact in the still developing libido of her son.> ******* Somewhere between the knocking of windows, clapping of the thunder, and banging of the rain on the doors, and in between dreams of his mother he heard a creak, then a small hand shook him through the blanket and he heard a smaller boy saying, "Move over Pierce, please, so I can get in with you. I'm freezing". Some of the kids taking shelter that night in the decrepit house, had run away from home like him and became street kids, while others, not living in the street the shopping mall after school, pinching ladies handbags and shoplifting.. Pierce went with them, they were his new pals. But the first time they had problems with the police, since he was the least experienced and streetwise of the group, they dumped all the blame on him. Belonging to a respected family, and being a minor, the judge contacted his parents before deciding what punishment he was going to award. The boy was adamant, when his parents arrived at the Court House that he would only talk with his father. He wouldn't see or talk to his mother at all. His father, a respected neurosurgeon and college professor went alone to talk with his son in custody. As a result of his father conversation with the judge, he was sent to a juvenile facility until he was eighteen. Part of the agreement was that studied and learned a craft. He was very lucky because as he was good at physics and maths, the mandatory learning of a manual profession opened for him a wide field of possibilities. After a time he became fascinated with the welding of metals and maybe, that was what got him the apprenticeship to become an underwater welder. He saw two pieces of red hot iron being melted with the solder and creating another piece. It was like creating life; the teachers seeing his interest, not common among most young prisoners, put every effort to teach him the secrets of their trade. When his skill at oxy-acetylene welding allowed him to weld the most difficult pieces and metals they advanced him to the more difficult electric welding courses. He was a natural by the time he was seventeen, was an excellent welder, even earning some money on jobs that his teachers brought in from outside the correctional facility. In all that time his father went to see him every weekend, not missing a single one. The first months he was always accompanied by Pierce's mother, but this continued refusal to see his mother made her cease accompanying his father. And then he had the opportunity. A professor working for a small oil company needing welders to work at sea asked and obtained, from the judge and his father, permission for Pierce to work outside the correctional facility. The work place was a shipyard and that was where he picked up the diving bug and his love for the ocean. It was something that would change his life forever. He worked hard and on his release, he enrolled a swimming and diving school and persuaded his father to pay for his course as an underwater electric and argon welder. He graduated eighteen months later and was soon working in the oil industry, After turning twenty one, he was sent to work at the construction site of several high sea oil rigs and platforms where he become a specialist and earned a good living in places ranging from the North Sea to the Gulf of Mexico and seemingly everywhere else that oil was produced under the ocean. *2* *Pierce parent's story* Natasha Bridgeport, née Sorenson, was the only child of third generation Norwegian immigrants in the mountains of Idaho, near the Montana border. In fact the nearest town to their family ranch is Clark Fork over US highway 95. She went from long legged, adorable adolescent to beautiful young woman. She had inherited the genes of her Scandinavian ancestors: Good bones, a 5 foot 9 inch, 125 pound body with long muscular legs, which rose to supple hips and an intriguing view of that magical area where a woman's legs transform into a round and pert derriere. She had a tiny waist with hourglass shape and an incredible pair of 36 inch breasts roughly the size of medium-sized oranges, they were up thrust and proud; her nipples were pale pink and thicker and longer than a pencil eraser. The areoles that surrounded them were quarter-sized and similarly pale pink and quite smooth. This vision of loveliness was completed by long, blonde almost white, hair that she wore in a pony--tail which fell almost to her waist, framing a face with large emerald green eyes, natural full rose colored lips that were maybe just a touch wide, a small, straight nose, with only a few laugh and sun lines around her eyes. Her cheekbones were high and well-defined. The small vee of hair that covered her pubic mound was thin and light honey coloured, and she kept it neatly trimmed. This gorgeous goddess was eighteen years old when she left her parents ranch to go east, to Boston Medical College to become a Registered Nurse and learn about the world. She got her second wish, and instead of the first (becoming a registered nurse) she met her destiny. Dale Bridgeport was an eminent neurosurgeon and twenty four years Natasha's senior. In his early forties, Dr Bridgeport still drew second glances from women. He still had the build which had made him an outstanding quarterback in his college years —a tall erect figure with big, broad shoulders and muscular arms. Even now he has a habit of squaring his shoulders when ready to do something difficult or make a decision—as if readying instinctively the charge of a red-dogging linebacker. Yet despite his size, he still moves lightly, like a dancer. He had never been handsome in the Adonis sense, but he had a rugged, creased irregularity of face. His nose still carried the scar of an old football injury, which many women so often, and perversely, find attractive in men. Only his hair showed traces of the pass of time; his not so long ago jet black hair, was now graying swiftly. As if the color had suddenly surrendered and was marching out. When Natasha first arrived at campus in Boston from rural Idaho, the change was like an earthquake in her life. She was dazzled and amazed by everything she saw. It was a new world. In the first weeks she went from wonder to wonder, everything was new and different and exciting: her classmates, hospital technology, every thing was amazing, but soon her curriculum demands, the work routine of the nurse block, and having to do, first year scut work, made what had been a wonderful impression in the first moments, lose its luster in the light of reality. It was a job that was dramatic, exciting and glamorous only on TV. Her life would change dramatically, however, in only a few months. She was going to meet her future. ******** From the corridor outside there was the sound of footsteps. Then the autopsy-room door opened, and members of the nursing school's teaching staff, looked in. She said, "Good morning Dr Bridgeport". Behind her was a group of student nurses. "Good morning" answered the neuro surgeon. "You can all come in" The students filed through the doorway. There were six, and as they entered all glanced nervously at the body on the table. Dr Bridgeport grinned. "Hurry up girls. You want the best seats; we have them". Dale Bridgeport ran his eyes appraisingly over the group. There were a couple of new ones here he had not seen previously, including the young blonde girl. He took a second look. Yes indeed; even camouflaged by the Spartan student' uniform, it was evident here was something very special. With apparent casualness he crossed the autopsy room, then, returning, managed to position himself between the girl he had noticed and the rest of the group. He gave her a broad smile and said quietly, "I don't remember seeing you before" "I've been around as long as the other girls" She looked at him with a mixture of frankness and curiosity, then added mockingly, "Besides, I've been told that doctors never notice first-year nursing students anyway" He appeared to consider, "Well, it's a general rule. But sometimes we make exceptions—depending on the student, of course" His eyes candidly admiring, he added, "By the way I'm Dale Bridgeport" He didn't say, "I'm Dr Dale Bridgeport"; No, just his name, that was class. She answered, "I'm Natasha Sorensen" and laughed, them catching a disapproving eye from her class instructor, she stopped abruptly. Natasha had liked the looks of this mature, dark haired professor, but it did seem wrong to be talking and joking in here. After all, the man on the table was dead. He had just died, she had been told upstairs; that was the reason she and the other student nurses had been taken from their work to watch an autopsy. The eminent neurosurgeon, Dr Bridgeport, was going to do a brain autopsy To say Dale Bridgeport had been struck by Natasha's youth and beauty would be putting it mildly. She was different from the students who he was used to. She did not have the sophisticated, sometimes predator style of the girls in the big city. Her attitude had an unusual freshness in the environment in which he moved, he was sure that those features would not last long, and he proposed to himself to seize them and make her his, It didn't matter how, even if he had to abandon bachelorhood and marry her. He had fallen in love with a woman who was young enough to be his daughter. But she was not his daughter. ******** The cafeteria of the hospital was the heart of the hospital grapevine; few events occurred inside the hospital, promotions, scandals, firings, and hirings -- which were not known and discussed in the cafeteria long before they became official. Medical staff frequently used the cafeteria for "curbstone consultations" with colleagues whom they seldom saw except as a meal or coffee break. Generally the cafeteria was a democratic area where hospital rank, if not forgotten, was at least temporarily ignored. An exception, possibly, was the practice of setting aside a group of tables for the medical staff. With few exceptions the senior attending physicians used the reserved tables. House staff, however, was less consistent, residents, interns and occasionally some professors joined the nurses and other groups. There was nothing unusual, therefore, in Dr Dale Bridgeport dropping into a chair opposite Natasha Sorensen who, released from an assignment earlier than some of her fellow student nurses, was eating lunch alone. Since they had met a few days before in the autopsy room, Natasha had occasionally encountered Dr Bridgeport in the hospital corridors and on each occasion -- seeing his elegant bearing, his dark hair strewn with silver threads and his winning smile—she had increasingly come to like the look of him. Intuitively she had expected that soon he might make a direct approach to her, and now here he was. "Hi" Dr Bridgeport said. "Uh, hello" the greeting was awkward. Natasha had just bitten into a chicken leg and had her mouth full; then mumbled "Excuse me". "That's perfectly all right. Bon appetite and take your time. I'm here to make you a proposition" She finished her mouthful of chicken, and then said: "I thought, usually, that was supposed to come later" Dale Bridgeport grinned. "Haven't you heard? -- This is the jet age. No time for formal frills. Here's my proposition; dinner at the Cuban Grill tomorrow, followed by the theater." Natasha asked "Can you afford it?" with a grin Dale lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "Don't tell a soul, but I have a side line. Those patients we got in autopsy. A lot of them have gold fillings in their teeth; it's a very simple matter..." "Oh shut up, you'll ruin my lunch" She bit into the chicken again, and Dale reached over and took two of her french fries. "Well, will you come?" "I'd love to," Natasha said, and she meant it. "Great, I'll pick you up at your apartment at seven o'clock. Okay? As he spoke Dale Bridgeport found himself regarding this girl with even greater interest. He was suddenly aware that she had a deal more than a pretty face and a good figure. When she looked at him and smiled it conveyed the feeling of something warm and fragrant. Our Tattered Lives "Okay," Natasha said. "I might be a little late but not much." ********* Afterward the theater, Dale had driven Natasha home. She had recently moved from nurse's quarters to a small apartment not far from the medical school and hospital. She had said, "You'll come in for a nightcap, of course" They rode the gleaming, silent elevator to her floor, and then turned down a birch paneled corridor, their footsteps silenced by the deep broadloom. He had raised his eyebrows and Natasha timidly smiled. "It is a little awesome, isn't it, it was my parent's idea, they are a little old fashioned and disagree with what they thought of as the promiscuity of the nurses building, I'm still impressed myself." She had used her key to open a door and inside touched a switch. Tasteful, subdued lighting sprang in an elegant lounge. He could see the partly opened door of a bedroom, directly ahead. "Would you like a drink" she asked. Her back to him, as ice clinked she asked, "Dale, have you never gotten married?" "No" he had answered to her back. And said to himself "I've sometimes wondered why" Natasha turned, carrying the drinks and gave Dale his, then moved to a chair. He said thoughtfully," Now that I think of it, I wanted a career in medicine. At the time it seemed terrible important. That and marriage didn't seem to go together" She asked, "Any regrets?" Dale considered, "Not really, at least not until now, I've achieved what I wanted, I have my niche in medicine, I am respected and I think I'm a good surgeon. Of course, sometimes one wonders how things would have turned out with a different decision, but after all, that's the human condition isn't it?" "I suppose so" she was strangely moved, there was a sense of depth and tenderness about Dale. "I'm no longer dogmatic about anything" he smiled. "That, at least, I've learned with age". Natasha wondered what, from her own point of view, marriage to Dale would be like. Would there be love and mellowness, how would they adjust? If married how would they spend their time after his work time. Would the talk be intimate and domestic? Or would it be about his work and hospital. Dale finished his drink and rose to leave; he realized they both had said more than had passed in words. "There is really no need for you to go Dale. Stay if you like, I wish you would" Natasha had said it simply, and knew if he stayed it would be up to him what happened next. *3* And so he stayed. As the evening progressed, with wine and his constant and very gratifying attention, her nipples had hardened again and again, finally sending her to the bathroom to place some tissue between her pussy and panties to absorb the moisture she was producing. Yet, for all his teasing, he remained the perfect gentleman seeping his drink and placing, from time to time, his hand in hers with a subtle caress; as their hands touched, the contact sent impassioned flames of desire coursing through their bodies. Sseveral drinks later, Dale considered prudent to end the night and go home. Both their libidos were highly aroused as they parted company. Each masturbated to orgasm dreaming of the other in their beds that night. Hormones he had forgotten in his mature years renewed his interest in sex and life as they raced through his body, followed by the goose bumps and shivers they produced. Next morning he noticed the more conservative clothing she wore when she arrived at the nurse's station to work with the team. He was in love with her, knowing it to be the foolish dreams of a sexually deprived older man. He forcibly shoved his growing desire to the back of his mind. She, on the other hand, allowed her growing love of him to blossom and began to contrive how she might seduce him without letting him know she was the aggressor. Natasha understood he was of the old school and that he believed he should make the first move. The next night, after he had invited her to dinner again, she planned her wardrobe carefully picking what she believed to be the most provocative yet, demure, elegant, and classy outfit she could devise. Natasha wore a short skirt and a semi-opaque blouse of a gauzy material; she decided to use her new underwear, a tiny Victoria's Secret set, allowing her pendulous bosom sway and jounce with every movement she made. She completed her outfit with an elegant and light coat of black leather, and knee high leather boots, He watched her mesmerized as she slowly walked down to the curb where he had his car waiting, but the glimpses she allowed him galvanized him to new heights of fervency. As he opened her side of the car door he was afforded a quick peek of her long and beautiful thighs. His long time forgotten hormones raged as he attempted to hide his unusual arousal from her, yet he still insisted on being the perfect gentleman, despite the blouse that allowed her erect nipples to be glimpsed even if only slightly through the semi opaque blouse and behind the leather coat. After a wonderful dinner accompanied by two bottles of excellent Merlot, of which Natasha had consumed most of one, she was almost drunk, or if not, she was very, very happy, so they had decided not to go dancing as planned and return to her apartment. When she tried to stand up getting out of the car she lost her balance and stumbled against him bringing her breasts against his chest. When he grabbed her to prevent her fall, his hands inadvertently went to her buttocks to support her and he felt the firm, almost naked, flesh. She, unable to help herself, giggled and kissed his neck as he held her; his face turned red as he attempted to apologize for touching her, however, she whispered in his ear that his touch was very pleasurable. After all, hadn't he saved her from a nasty fall? Natasha kissed him on the lips, a luscious thank you, before releasing him. His hands shook like a teenager as his hormones raged from her stimulation. Then, she took everything into her own hands unable to restrain herself any longer; the wait for his first advance was over. She at once realized his fear of their age difference would not allow him to take advantage of her. Natasha with the recklessness of youth and the courage of the wine approached him again, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him tightly to her body she kissed him; it was a prolonged kiss, full of tongue, sexual promise and inflamed passionate desire. The sensation of the kiss lingered on his lips long after she broke contact to hold his head in her hand as he tried to further separate them. She whispered in his ear, "Oh Dale, my body longs for you. And I belong to you; I don't care about our age difference. I know there is love between us and that makes the difference that worries you so much meaningless. Your body reacts to mine as mine reacts to you. This has nothing to do with age and everything to do with each of us recognizing a soul mate. I have tried to understand it and have no answers other than the one my body tells me. It is the age-old craving of a woman for her man." "Baby" he replied, "I can't believe you are serious. I 'm almost old enough to be your grandfather, and I could certainly be your father, I'll be an old man before you are middle-aged, and probably die before you are fifty. I will not put you through the pain of loss. You're still too young to know your own mind" "But you are neither my father nor grandfather. Then you deny you love me?" she asked. "Do you deny you crave my touch? Are you saying if I were to leave, you wouldn't experience any pain? The pain you want to keep from me?" "No, please don't say that, I can't deny my love for you. However, I can save you from your own impetuosity, protect you from yourself. What would your parents think if you marry and set up house with me? I'm sure I'm as old as your parents. What would your friends say? No my love this is impossible." "Don't you dare use that argument with me, I'm a woman. Young, yes, but not a baby" she replied in tears "This has nothing to do with anyone else. If you reject me now, you'll bring on me the pain of rejection. If you leave tonight, it will be forever, and it will take me years to recover, if I ever do." Her body moved against him with shameless ardor attempting to coerce where verbal argument seemed to fail. Suddenly, he noticed his hands of their own volition had returned to the globes of her bottom now holding her tight against him. His erection was obvious to them both as she ground against it inducing him to further act on it. Dale could not help himself as the scent of a fully aroused woman wafted in the air. He began to sink into the abyss of her lust no longer able to contain his own needs; their lips once again sent messages of their needs. His resistance vanished. First he helped her get to her apartment without tripping or falling, then he took the keys from her trembling hands opened the door and once inside closed and put the lock. She pushed him against the door and started kissing him. Their tongues entwined as she reached for him and unfastening his pants, she took his cock into her warm soft hand and gently guided it to her streaming pussy. She attempted to climb him like a monkey, her pussy searching for relief by the insertion of his potent flesh. He stopped her took her hand and guided her to her bedroom and stripped them both before again taking her succulent ass into his hands squeezing her to him. This time, he initiated the kiss that consumed them in devouring sexuality. She writhed against him; he fondled her breasts feeling their fleshy weight, their roundness. Her nipples sprung into his hands, he rolled the sexy buds between thumb and forefinger eliciting groans of passion as her pussy raged with lust and her eyes wept. The wafting, savory scent demanded he taste her; his fevered brain asked him to ravish her with his tongue. He was a man utterly possessed by a thousand demons of lust when he laid her on the bed. Docile, she awaited his approach. She held her legs wide open with an arm wrapped around each thigh, presenting her virgin pussy for his tonguing. Her juices flowed like a river as his mouth descended onto the sweet savory succulence that would only partially sate his overwhelming thirst. Dale, not forgetting even for a second she was a virgin and this was her first time, sucked her nectar from its source creating further moans; his tongue danced on from her cunt lips to her clit, up and down, not inserting his tongue into the vagina. Her juices continued to flow freely over his probing tongue bringing an intense sensuality to this act of love. Natasha felt in her womb and brains her impending orgasm; but each time she desperately reached for it, he would back off a little. Although she was on the precipice, he would not allow her the release she craved so intently. He seemed to know exactly when she was going to cumm and stopped just in the nick of time. Finally, in the throes of passion she sent her fingers to work under his ravishing tongue to finish herself what he didn't want to do, but he would not allow it and held her hand away from her sex. Occasionally, he would remove his mouth form her crotch to watch her cunt heave up from the bed looking for his mouth and tongue while he enjoyed her fragrance. Eventually, his mouth moved up from her furnace and the molten lava, traveled up her body firing further the flames of passion with the tip of his tongue. He kissed her repeatedly finding and inflaming each new erogenous zone, her navel, her breasts, and her nipples. His tongue penetrated her mouth and at the same time his cock penetrated her cunt. Something stopped him; the fog of desire that filled his brain began to dissolve. He had stumbled on her hymen, he was taking her virginity. The realization made him stop the penetration; "Please Dale, don't stop, please my love, keep going" begged a delirious Natasha. "I don't want to hurt you" "It doesn't matter, keep pushing, it's only natural, I know what I'm talking about" Dale pushed again breaking the membrane and filling her with such carnal sensations she climaxed immediately around his shaft. It was only the beginning. With each thrust of his cock, her body convulsed in orgasm after orgasm leaving her thrashing, biting, scratching and begging for more. He fucked her to sexual submission; then he felt his semen start spurting in her womb and a few minutes later they lay exhausted and fulfilled on the bed, their mixed juices flowing from her body. His cock, still hard from their first fuck, was prepared for their second round. This time he would be more careful than the first time, so his body would enrapture her. He intended to enslave her forever with sexuality as she has enslaved him with her beauty. If they were going to be lovers, he insisted her as his dick entered her for a second time, then it must be a long lifetime commitment. His thrusting soon brought her close to orgasm; and as with his tongue, he would stop his big cock each time she grew close repeating this process time and time again. Natasha's inexperience made her feel that her body was like a mass of jelly, and that her head was continuously exploding into a fireworks symphony of endless orgasms; Dale brought her closer and closer to the edge of the abyss, and each time she reached a higher plane of pleasure, she received more stimulation. She tensed with each approach to her orgasm until every muscle in her body strained for release; her body was a taut bowstring, waiting to be plucked. Forcefully, he thrust his dick inside her sheath again and again; his cock struck the deepest part of her womb as he spewed his seed and flooded her with cum. Her response was an orgasm of such immense proportions that the spasms opened her cervix to the head of his prick so his emissions went to the far end. Natasha instinctively knew in that moment of erotic delight, he had impregnated her. This man, who only a few hours ago had argued his age was a barrier to their love, would now be the father of her child. As she moaned away the bliss, she told him she was sure she was pregnant with his child, but expected to be fucked many more times to be positive. He was surprised at how pleased he felt their union would result in a baby. His baby. His age seemed to melt away as she mounted him to take her erotic revenge. Her cunt wanted to consume the new erection that shocked him with it almost immediate resurgence. Natasha crouched over his erection bringing her pussy slowly down, engulfing and devouring his penis with her cavity, still full of their cream from their last fuck. She leaned over so her dangling tits would drag her nipples across his chest and graze his nipples further arousing him. When he attempted to thrust upwards, she rode with him not allowing the friction he was trying to produce. Only when she felt his cock start softening slightly did she grind forcibly her cunt muscles against him to maintain his erection. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her towards his mouth and the nibbling and suckling of her nipples sent wonderful messages of passion to her twat. Her juices flowed down his shaft wetting his balls and ass with a continuous drip of cream. Impassioned, he finally let go of her breasts and reattached his mouth to hers as both his hands gripped her bum. She fiercely prolonged the kiss, driving her tongue deep into his mouth, and sucking his tongue into hers. Natasha began a series of muscle exercises with her vagina, which sent ripples along the walls of her excited sex eliciting even stronger desires in him. His balls ached with his need for release once more. Using muscles she had exercised for this day, she began a series of squeezes that further engorged his already swollen cock; his sexual tension rose to a peak he had never before attained, and when she felt he was ready, maintaining the kiss and with saliva flowing into his mouth, she used his own strategy and thrust up and down forcibly several times. She drove his cock deep inside her as he erupted bathing her cunt in hot cum. She collapsed on his chest and said, "This fuck guarantees me a baby and will seal our love". Nine months later the baby was named Pierce ********* But before Pierce was born there were some hard facts of life they should have taken into account. Everything had been very beautiful, fantastic. Cupid's arrow t had made them fall in love instantly; the loving dates; content, especially by Natasha, for their age difference; the hot sex, the beautiful making of love, in other words all the madness of love. All had been like living in a world of fantasy. But with her pregnancy, came the reality that forced them out of their cocoon and face hundreds of problems, of which it was not the least Natasha's parents' reaction. Natasha's parents were very religious, with a very ultra conservative vision in every aspect of social life. They were anti-abortion, they were against premarital sex, and were furious with the conduct of their darling and only daughter. When she called them to announce their visit, her parent's reaction was coldest than the air coming down from Canada in winter. When Natasha and Dale arrived at her family ranch the reception they received from her parents was even colder than the phone call had been. When her parents learned that their little girl was pregnant by that old lecher, they went berserk. They did not care that Dr. Dale Bridgeport, of whom they had never even heard, was a world-renowned physician, he had abused their child and they could not forgive. They did not want his daughter to marry an old man, almost the same age as themselves, they did not want an abortion, and did not want a grandchild born in sin. For them it was an insoluble problem, so they retreated completely from the issue and asked the parents of their grandchild to go away and never return. From that moment on their lives were full. They would feel that lack years later. After the first moments of anguish following the rejection of her parents, Natasha was happily involved in creating a home in which to raise her son, that husband could be proud of. Their marriage was attended by his colleagues and a few of her former nurse-friends. The first years of their marriage were happy, they had their son, Dale had his career and work at the university and hospital and Natasha had her home, her friends and her social life. But over the years, as her son began to grow, Natasha's needs in bed weren't met. Moreover Dale spent increasingly more and more time in the college cloisters and the operating room that at home, his interest in sex waned with the increase in age, and when he turned fifty-five years they had intercourse, (not made love), once every month or month and a half Natasha by contrast, was thirty-three years, in the prime of her maturity as a woman, and felt she needed more sex, she needed to fuck and be fucked, and not having sex, her needs increased exponentially. As a result, the marriage was on its way to the wreck. Not to divorce, mind you, they would not separate; they would maintain appearances for society and their son's sake. They were no longer lovers, sex was no more. They loved each other as good friends, not as lovers. This had been her first marriage to her first love. It was also his first marriage, but to his second love. His first love was the practice and teachings of neurosurgery. He had missed living the mundane early years of his adulthood, and, like many successful men his age, had succumbed to the attraction of a younger, much younger woman and eagerly embraced her desire for a family, one that, at this time in his life, he would enjoy fully. He was a good husband and a better father, but the attraction of a second love often waned and Dr Bridgeport seemed to be following the path of so many others that had led to the estrangement with their wives — work was his primary focus and love. Our Tattered Lives *4* *My story* My name is Pierce Bridgeport. I am twenty six years old. This is the story of the tattered lives of my mother and me. And of what at the time seemed our final relationship. I have been working as a deep sea welder on several oil platforms in the North Sea for an American company and only went to shore every fourth week. From the beginning my job has kept me away from the mainland for weeks at a time. I could usually expect to be home (a spacious apartment where I live alone, with the occasional feminine visit) one weekend each month or even every six weeks and sometimes I was able to stay, if things were easy at work, for a whole week. My eight hours shift at work let me with long periods of free time and after a couple of weeks I realized I could not be more than eight or ten hours a day loitering without doing something useful with my life, so when I returned from my first weekend ashore without a dollar to my name, I realized that not only should I make better use of my free time at sea, I also realized it made no sense to spend, in a few hours of drinking and womanizing, the money I earned with so much effort and danger. So, very early in my work life I changed my way of life. and decided that to be ten or twelve hours a day playing cards, reading magazines or comics, sleeping, eating and looking forward to my new work shift was not good for my future, so I decided to tell the foreman that I would like an increase in my day workload, and I began to save my money spending as little as possible. As I still had much spare time I became interested in the movements of the stock market and learned how to invest my money. Working in the off-shore oil industry, I thought that this was the best field in which to start investing my money; working within the industry I was connected to and in which I knew many people, from whom, from time to time, when they were in the mood, I could get some investment tips. So, my life was hard work, study, savings and little fun. I was twenty two and I promised myself to be rich at twenty five. Of course in a so rough work environment I was the laughing stock of my fellow workers some of whom thought I was a "sissy", their words. I didn't go to town and got roaring drunk or go out with the women. I worked my shot, and afterwards, when I was resting in my cabin I was always reading technical stuff incomprehensible to most of them. I never went to my parent's home again; I went to the ranch in Idaho to see my maternal grandparents and remember better times occasionally, and when I wanted to see my father I usually took a plane and went to see him at the University. We would spend the day together, and we talked about our lives and other things. My mother was never mentioned, though I saw the pain in his eyes, once I gave him my address and that of the company I work, and my lawyer's phone in case he, (not her), ever needed to contact me. Beyond that I did not want my mother to be named in my presence, through her memory was my own living hell; I could not rip her from my mind, her memory was an obsession that never left me, and that made me reject other women, I could not have a normal romantic relationship, none of them was my mother, so my contact with them was reduced to the minimum and I looked for sex merely for my sanity (think Oedipus complex.) I wish I had had the balls to tell her that I was in love with her. But I was young and couldn't. She was the reason I couldn't be with any other woman. Being with another woman after just existing in Mom's world would be akin to living in an efficiency apartment after having lived in a Hollywood mansion. I know, it's a bad analogy, but it's as close as I can get. Beyond the fact that she is extremely beautiful, what I feel for her is much deeper. It goes beyond the sexual desire, goes beyond wanting to possess her, to own her body. What I want and need is to possess her soul, I think that she still loves me as a mother to her son, but my dream is that I need her to love me like a woman loves her man. I'm in love with her and I need for her to love me too, because mother is the reason there is no longer a woman who satisfies me. When having sex, I settled for fucking like animals do, instinctively but without love. Today that is no longer enough. Young girls my age didn't interest me as I found them superficial and immature, so when I need company I contact an escort service and ask for women of my mother's age. I wasn't a virgin by any means, if by virgin you mean the person who has never had intercourse, but my practice in the fine art of sex was to say the least lacking in everything that makes sex joyful and enjoyable to your partner. I had bedded a few girls before going offshore and several prostitutes when I was far away from home. And my only proficiency in sex was my endurance; I could fuck for hours. ******* When I was twenty three years old my life was a mess. The only interest I had in life was my work, saving money, the control of my investments trying to make more money for an early retirement, as working for long periods of time under water had begun to affect my health. I had few mundane diversions and no permanent female companionship. I loved and respected my father very much, but I loved my mother with carnal desires and repressed sexual passion. I was coming to the end of a, three year contract and one day when I was working on a particularly troublesome and dangerous something that was supposed to be impossible happened.I was at a depth of about one hundred feet when the accident occurred. I never knew what happened, if it was a mistake I made in my calculations, if the torch flame cut a supporting structure steel cable, or if it was some other reason. But the fact was the cable parted and swatted my head producing a deep wound from the top of the head down my face to my chin, breaking the oxygen mask and the breathing equipment. I lost consciousness and the profuse amount of blood coming from the wound began to redden the water around me and shocked my coworkers who immediately called for help to get me out of the water I was flown to the nearest hospital when they saw the wound too severe for first aid aboard the rig I barely remember the following days; I seem to remember as if I was in the middle of a thick fog, the pounding blades of a helicopter, voices screaming, and a flight of several hours with someone trying to keep my head still. It was a large building with brightly lit corridors, silence, and then nothing. I woke up with excruciating pain in my head and in blind darkness, when I tried to touch my face, a steady hand squeezed my hands and my father's voice was telling me everything was fine, to be careful and I was going to be fine. As in a dream I seemed to hear for the first time in years the voice of my mother, sobbing, weeping and calling me: "Oh my baby, oh my love, oh my darling son" Her voice was trailing into the distance as I lost consciousness again. As I awoke the darkness surrounded me, this time, a gentle feminine voice, that of a nurse, told me that I was not blind, I had my head completely bandaged as a result of the surgery to restore my face and close my wounds. I had over a hundred and fifty stitches. After several days they took away the bandages and slowly in a darkened room they uncovered my eyes. When I saw my new face in the mirror I wanted to die. I was a perfect blend both my parents. I'm quite tall at six foot four and 220 pounds, with an agile, muscular body almost weightless in the water; I have dark blond hair, regular features with dark almond eyes set at both sides of a straight greek-type nose, my skin has a dark golden hue like a California surfer, a direct product of the sun, salt air and time. Now my face was swollen and deformed, crossed by a terrible wound that went from the front of my scalp, down my forehead, across my right cheek to my chin. I looked like a monster and suddenly I could not hold the tears and started to mourn with grief for the loss of my old face. Doctors and nurses assured me in a few days I would feel better and my face would slowly come back to normal. My daily reminder of my accident would be the long scar crossing my face, but that should not stop me from returning to a normal life. It is easier said than done. In the interim my father managed to transfer me to Boston and got me a bed in the hospital where he worked, so he could take care of my wound personally. He seemed to have aged twenty years in a few weeks and he asked me if I eventually would like to see my mother. "You know dad that I love you very much, I love you, and respect you and I'm grateful for all you has done for me, but don't ask me that, maybe some day, but not now and less in the state I'm in, deformed like this I could not stand her compassion and the look of disgust in her eyes" . "But you are wrong, son, your mother loves you very much. Wouldn't you do it for me? "Not now pa, sometime later" I answered him tiredly. Convalescing in the hospital bed, I recalled again and again, my and my mother's sex life - or the lack of it, and her seething sexuality.And still, there was now no question in my mind that my mother, whatever she had said at the moment, had been flirting and teasing with me since I entered puberty and started developing. At first, I thought it was just her way to connect with me, for us to be like pals on our own, then, that I was older. But she'd gone beyond that, directing my attention to her womanly charms, emphasizing her body, and encouraging me to react in a sexual way. The pain killers made me drowsy and semi consciously and I dreamed most of the time. I always dream about her. I only dream about her, my mother. ********* * Dreaming again* "Don't forget the laundry in my room," Mom called after me, Dad was trying to dislodge her, and her face was buried in his neck. Her laughing voice haunted me all the way up the stairs to their room. "Please Natasha, be quiet, it is no way to act this way with our son in the house" I heard my father say. "Then show me more attention when you are home" was her response. I was mad at her, because I thought I knew what she was doing; she was flirting with me going heavy like that on dad, trying to interest him in front of me, the age difference between them showing now in all its splendour. As I was not used to disobeying my parents, I did as I was told. But I didn't like her flirting with me one second and with Dad the next. Because she did flirt with me, didn't she? It just didn't seem right. Oddly, the fact that she was flirting with me at all did not enter my mind as being wrong for some reason. I gathered the laundry and when I passed the living room, Mom was again straddling his lap not permitting him to read, as he wanted. I ignored them. I heard them whispering and then Mom was laughing again as I made my way down to the basement. It made me angry that just seeing her long legs on him made me hard. A few days later she was gazing at the pool ten feet away in the shade of the trees as I was again rubbing oil into her flesh, I fantasized watching her jack off my big, hard cock. I had my balls full. I saw her lick her lips and I saw, in my mind, the hot spurts of my cock cream spew from my piss hole... right into her mouth. Suddenly she moaned, the cheeks of her ass bunching as if a small, but nice orgasm had exploded in her cunt. I let my hands pause on her back as she came. "Something wrong, Mom?" I had asked. "Mmmm, no darling," she had breathed. "I'm fine," she then whispered. With my hands at my mother's lower back, I had seen the sudden clutching of her ass, and I stared at it, I was fascinated. The tiny bikini bottoms had drawn up into the split of her ass, exposing her creamy cheeks. I had watched them ripple and contract. Leaning over, as I was very curious I had glanced quickly at my mother's crotch. I saw a few honey blonde hairs curling from the tight band, and also a trace of moisture there. I had felt my cock stiffen inside my trunks, and I had sat up straight, my hands now shaking slightly as I continued to rub oil into her flesh. I kept looking at her ass, the backs of her thighs, and realized my breathing was getting louder. Mum knew, though. She was listening to my labored breathing, and knew the sounds very well. She understood. I, her son, had probably seen her ass cheeks bunch and squeeze, but she didn't seem embarrassed. On the contrary, she worked her ass some more, knowing I was getting a hard-on, and I wanted to take a peek at her. So she flexed her ass cheeks time and again, spreading her long thighs a little wider. She purred softly, and my imagination was becoming wilder and wilder. Mom is so amazingly beautiful it makes my heart hurt to look at her. I melt inside when she smiles at me and I hate to see her unhappy. I wheezed and panted, struggling to control myself. Mom, I have to tell you, I want you. I want to make love to you. I want you in every way a man can want a woman. I want to make you my own.> ********* That was a persistent dream at night; it was also a day dream. After several months of restorative surgery I left the hospital to go back to work, my face was completely changed, the right side, where I had been hit and wounded, was nearly paralyzed, and the deep wound had left a scar that even the best surgeons had been unable to restore. I needed to cover the big scar so I started to grow a beard and wear my hair longer; when I left the hospital I had no hair or beard, I looked like a monster out of the depths of the oceans; but, after a couple months back on the rig in the middle of the sea, my beard and hair were long enough to go to the barber shop and arrange them to make me look like a human being again. The barber and I decided that my beard and mustache would be permanently half inches long, that would be able to cover the scar and the paralysis of that side of my face, at the same time I decided that my hair would reach down to my neck and be worn in a pony-tail One of the consequences of my accident at sea was that the new hair growing in both my head and beard, was not jet black, my new hair color was less intense black with a wide strip as white as snow where the scar was, and my appearance has totally changed I didn't dive as much as before, not for so long a time, now I rather performed tasks of control and supervision of other divers and welders, only when they were highly specialized tasks did I go down. Life wasn't the same, something had broken inside me and I didn't enjoy underwater work anymore. I did control my financial assets and with some good investments, I was in my way to be, if not rich, at least, financially sound. *5* * Learning to love * This is, I thought to myself as I dialed, one of the strangest phone calls I have ever made in my life. What was even more bizarre was that the first strange phone call I had ever made was only two months ago. And this one was related to that one. In fact, without that one this one would not be possible; I thought sardonically that I was breaking personal records right and left. But how do I go about this thing, I started to wonder; Hang out in single bars? I couldn't do that. I didn't even like bars that much. I mean, my physical appearance is the issue. I'm a twenty four years old guy, I am in good shape. I kept myself pretty fit, and though I had a good muscular body, is my impression my face and head still draw too much attention which makes me very nervous and I feel uncomfortable in the presence of people who I do not know. Besides, women put as much emphasis on men's good looks, or so I think. So, the bar scene was out. Then what? --do I approach a mature female, and say, "Hey, I want to jump in bed with you because I want to have sex with a mature woman before I die" I'm sure the slap would win a word championship, if only it would just stop there and the police didn't lockup me up and throw away the key And then it hit me. I didn't want to get in trouble, I didn't want to risk forming an emotional attachment and then leave, but I wanted to feel a mature woman's body, feel what it's like to be made love to and be educated in the nuisances of sex by a knowledgeable female. The only choice was, at first, distasteful, and then, like the evolution of my emotions about living with a scarred face, totally reasonable: A call girl. With someone who does this professionally, several aspects of my search are eliminated: no hunting, no rejection, no embarrassment and disrespect of anyone I don't know, and no long games of persuasion. It was simple, I pay her, and she comes to me. I was about to find out, and receive the biggest surprise of my life. In one of my now infrequent short leaves, I went to talk to my lawyer and stockbroker, now a friend, and we talked about my investments and other particular aspects of my life, my health and the proximity of my retirement and what was I going to do with my life from now on. "Ok Pierce, now, I'm your friend, you know that, I 'm worried about you. After the accident your life has changed, and except the money part, you are almost rich, your life is in shambles. I think is a good time for you to look for a good girl and get married, or else" my lawyer said to me. "Is that a legal advice?" said I trying to joke with the theme. "No Pierce, is a friend's advice, you need a woman in your life, someone who loves you" "As if that were so easy; Ok, maybe to you it is, you're a brilliant and rich lawyer, and have lots of nice women with a snap of your fingers, but look at me, I'm deformed and I can't go asking women to date me" "First let me tell you something: YOU ARE NOT DEFORMED, you are a little, very little different from the handsome young man you were. You think you are deformed? Your face has only changed a bit, in fact, you are more interesting and your appearance is manlier now than before" "Yea, yeah, right, and frogs fly" "Let me think, maybe I have a solution, a temporary one mind you, but none the less it would do for now, until you get back your self-esteem. Call me in a few days ok, I have to make some calls and try to connect some important people" A couple months later I called my lawyer and friend; he had a phone number and two names I should contact. It was time to found out if the tip I had received from my lawyer was true or it was a joke. I was making the second strangest phone call of my life, and it was being answered. "Good evening, International Trade Company, Miss Forrest speaking, how can I help you?" The lady's voice sounded professional and calm. I cleared my throat. Just be direct, I told myself. The worst think it can happen is they hang up on you. "Hi, I'm Pierce Bridgeport" I said pleasantly, as if I were about to order a gift basket for someone, "I was uh... given your company name by my lawyer Mr. Phillips and I was wondering if I could make use of your services". "Of course, Sir, in fact Dr Phillips has mentioned your name as a potential customer", she said, not sounding surprised at all. "I just need some information, Sir. Name, address, credit card number and a sponsor; in this case Dr Phillips recommendation is sufficient, and uh sir you will need a complete medical check-out including blood tests to prevent the possibility of spreading some disease, if there is any; Our ladies are protected, the same as our clients are; ours is a very discreet and careful enterprise" Our Tattered Lives I smiled. They must be fairly popular in some social circles, I thought. "Okay, that's fine. I'll fax you the medical tests" And I gave her the data she needed, Phillips had told me they checked very thoroughly every new prospective client. "Now sir, when would you like the lady to keep you company? Give us at least two days to verify your data" "What do you need from me; I mean where do we go from here?" "Well, sir, first of all, is there any type of lady you are looking for? Specific physical things, race, size, hair color...?" I let out a little nervous laugh. "Well, yes I don't know if you can get what I'm specially looking for, I mean I'm assuming they are all pretty young and pretty attractive-" "Yes, they all are that," she joined me in the little laugh, and I was much more comfortable now."What are you looking for specifically? "Well, I just want someone who has umm... experience. That won't feel uncomfortable with me, you know, she must be around forty years old, and blond, very blond with deep blue eyes... " "Don't worry. I think I've got just the lady of your dreams. Her name is Rachel. She's forty-four, and very open-minded, and I'm pretty sure she's what you are looking for." "Hum. Well fine, now umm... how much is all this going to cost me?" "There's a flat fee of $1.000 for her to come out, and that's for an hour and a half with you. That's just for being with you. You may go dancing, to dine, to walk, anything other than companionship you have to negotiate with her. Your activities and the time they take you'll discuss with Rachel, and if she requires more, then you work it out with her." I was silent several seconds, and then the voice brought me out of my reverie: "Are you there sir? Do you need time to think? Would you like to call another time? "No, no, no I'm here, everything is all right. So may I hope to receive your call in a couple days to confirm the date of my... err meeting with the lady?" "Yes sir we will contact you, one way or another. Good evening" "Good evening, I await your call. Thank you" Rachel. A shiver went through me, and I already was fascinated by this mystery "call lady". There would be more than an hour and half if I had anything to say. I wasn't a guy, who wanted to "get laid". I wanted a life experience. I knew already this was a good decision. Three days later I was called and asked what day would suit me. I told them and I paid the flat fee over the phone with my credit card, and verified my address, and directions. The woman assured me that Rachel would be arriving within an hour to an hour and a half. My apartment was in a condo a little ways out of the city, and it would take her a while to get here. ******** I walked through the living room and made sure it looked neat, and then I got into the shower. I had a light, dancing feeling in my groin. My fingers went to my cock and stroked gently, but I resisted the urge to masturbate. I wanted to save my sexual energy for what, I was sure, lay ahead. I toweled off and went to my closet. What to wear? I laughed at myself. I haven't had the opportunity to dress up many times, and never for the visit of a "call lady" coming to my home. I chose to keep it basic, Canadian shirt and Jeans, loafers with white socks. My apartment was simply decorated, Mexican tile, and wood. Ceiling fans with rattan blades, and big Afghan throw rugs. I wondered what Rachel, probably used to meeting men in hotels, would think of being here. Very nervous while I waited, I looked at my reflection in the mirror, turned both ways. Not bad, not bad at all. Then I looked closely at my face and almost instantly, I regretted the phone call. A vision of a "prostitute" (that's what she was, wasn't it?) pushed its way into my mind's eye like a burglar coming in a window. A saw this pretty, pouty, overly made up girl, eyes dulled by robotic sex, chewing gum and counting my money, going through the motions with me, because I was paying her, and asking me, "Hey, what happen to your face?" Feeling the hammering of my veins, I went to the living room, and put on some soft classical music. Then I thought about it, and wondered what she liked. Fuck it and fuck her. Every passing minute more nervous, I switched the stereo off completely. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 8:05pm. She was scheduled to arrive right around now. The woman on the phone had said about 8 pm, give or take for traffic. Relax, boy! I headed to the kitchen and decided to open a bottle of wine. On the way, I heard by the open window the gentle crunch of tires on the gravel drive, and peeked out the window. My heart thumped faster in my chest as I strained to see who was getting out of the shiny silver Mercedes sports car, and then I decided to wait until she got to the door. I went to the kitchen, uncorked a bottle of Tannat, and waited for the doorbell to ring. I opened the door and bang, it felt like a sledgehammer had hit me in the nape. Something oppressed my chest and I could not breathe. She was beautiful, alright. Simply gorgeous. She was like something from another world, and there are no words to describe her, to do her justice. "Hi, are you... Pierce?" Her eyes swept me quickly, but met my eyes and stayed there. The woman on the phone at International Trade Company had not asked my age, and I was wondering just how surprised Rachel was. "Yes," I smiled and my voice trembled "And you are Rachel." "That's me." Her smile was bright, charming in fact, and her demeanor caught me off guard. She did not in any way fit the bored, gum-chomping sex tramp that my brain had feared. Rachel came in and I saw her eyes sweep the room, taking it in as she set her purse on the sofa. She was dressed in a white body hugging tube dress that outlined a nearly perfect body. Her breasts were big, maternal, but looked entirely natural, and well, she was a knockout. She was not petite, only a couple of inches shorter than me, and reminded me of the vision I had of my mother in my early years, with the same type of long haircut, only Rachel's was maybe a little less whitish blonde with a few darker blonde highlights, and it was flowing over her shoulders in straight, silky strands, out of which peeked a pair of gold and diamond hoop earrings. She looked very sexy without looking cheap; on the contrary she looked great, mature and very sophisticated. Her deep blue eyes were calm and focused as she accepted my invitation to sit. She crossed her legs "Well, this is different," she said, smiling softly. "Not as different as it is for me," I said, causing her to laugh a little. "Ok, so let's get the business out of the way." I nodded. "First let me tell you something about me. I don't need the money, so what I am, for my own reasons, is a high class gentleman's escort. I take as much or as little work as I want from a reputable agency. The clients pay the agency and then the agency pays me. The clients are charged one thousand dollars for my company, of which I get half. Most of the clients are well heeled businessmen or diplomats, usually from out of town but occasionally local. They use the agency for two main reasons: either they prefer to have dinner with a beautiful and intelligent companion rather than eat alone, or they want to impress their colleagues by having a desirable escort on their arm. Most of the clients I have had are in their fifties and upwards. As you know the agency does not promote sexual relations, but, of course, the subject usually crops up sometime during the evening with most of my clients. Any money or gifts that are offered in return for sex are between the escort and the client. I have only occasionally turned down such a request, for very personal and specific reasons, as I can usually make another ten or fifteen hundred dollars. However, I always insist that the client wear a condom; you never know, even some of the old guys might be carrying something." "Now, about us and this evening, do we go out to pass the time or do we stay here?" I was mesmerized; I had to clear my throat before I could say a word. "If you don't mind I would prefer to stay here" "How long do you want me to stay?" she asked pleasantly, her head tilted to one side. "That is, if you know yet. If you like, we can spend the hour and a half you paid for, and you can decide then, or whatever. But I need to have an idea of how long our, umm... session will be, and what are you looking for." I had already thought about that, and I knew the answer. "I'll try to make this easy," I said, swallowing hard. But it wasn't easy. Not for me. I took a breath, and took the leap. "I want you to stay until tomorrow morning," I said, holding her gaze. Her eyebrows lifted when I said this. "And" I said, glancing away and then back to her, "I want you to be... um... willing to do everything and anything with me." She nodded slowly, "Everything and anything..." she repeated trailing off, looking my body up and down quickly. "Look", I said, "one thing I want to be clear on, Rachel, please. I don't have a lot of experience with women. I need to learn many things, if my being twenty four years old is somehow uncomfortable to you after what you just has told me... well, that's fine, I'll understand if you want someone older, really won't take offense. I just want you to be comfortable with me, and relaxed enough to just be... adventurous I guess is the word I'm looking for." I watched her carefully. She nodded. "I think I understand. Adventurous is not a problem, Pierce. Teaching you as much as I can of what I know would be my pleasure. But you must know that I have limitations-no animals, no children, no violence, and no scat." "You don't have to worry about me being involved in those..., in that kind of practices" I flinched. "People actually ask you..." "Yes, you would be amazed what people have asked me to do. But I don't deal with any of those things, under any circumstances, no matter how much money they may offer." If I liked her before, now I liked her more for that. "I'm not into that either. I just want to be able to let loose, and take some time, and relax, and just do things with you I've only fantasized about. I want you to relax too, not feel like you have to pretend anything... just be yourself, and be open to whatever I want." She looked at me deeply, and said quietly, "You got it." She certainly filled me with a deep thrill, and I had to take a long breath. I felt my lips getting dry. "And as for your... umm... age... Pierce, you look splendid to me. I mean, you look great; you have nothing to worry about. I think your hair and beard are gorgeous, by the way," she said. I felt an incommensurable relief, and I felt very grateful for her kindness "Thank you, very much" I replied. "Would you like a glass of wine, or something else?" "I normally don't drink when I'm working, but it sounds nice. If you're going to have a glass I'll have one with you." I came back with two glasses of the Tannat, and I sat closer to her. "So," she said, wanting to get the financial aspects out of the way, which I was glad for. I wanted that part to be settled too. "You want me overnight, and you want me all the way." It sounded so weird and commercial when she put it that way, but yes, that was what it was and what I wanted. As much as I wanted her to be, she was not my mother, only a paid substitute "Yes, that's right" I said. She stood up with her glass, and walked slowly by my curio shelf, looking at my collection of copper and fossil miniature sea creatures, pictures, hand-made wood coasters from Brazil, and other souvenir from the sea I had gathered in my travels. Then she sauntered over by a painting of a woman resembling my mother, I watched her as she walked, obviously doing some calculating and assessing, I assumed, how much was I worth as she moved gracefully through my living room. She was an alarmingly beautiful and mature woman. She took another long sip of wine, turned and walked over to where I was. "Ok. Pierce, I'll need three thousand," she said. And she looked at me almost with a glint of expectation, as if she thought I would back out, or at least try to haggle with her, but I didn't care for money, I wanted her. "Three thousand," I repeated with a nod, and fished into my leather portfolio. I opened a large envelope, and counted out thirty one one-hundred dollar bills, and handed them to her. She nodded, I noted, impressed, and smiled as she carefully put the money in her purse. "Thank you," she said. "I'm all yours, now," she said, spreading her arms and laughing gently. "Do you want me to get undressed now, or...?", as we went to the bedroom. *6* She slid the spaghetti straps of her dress down her shoulders and then pulled her white dress it down and away from her body, and let it drop on the floor. Underneath she wore an absolutely wicked white demi-bra and panties set with a matching garter belt and stockings. In her five inch spiked heels she looked spectacular to say the least. I awkwardly hugged her and leaned over to kiss her mouth with overheated passion. She gently pushed me back with her tiny yet strong hands and taking my head with her two hands, told me, "Lesson number one Pierce, kiss softly; your lips are very hard against mine and you hurt my lips. Your lips must be pliant, soft, caressing, you open your lips a little and let the tip of your tongue touch my lips like a feather" We kissed again, she moulding her lips to my mouth and teaching me how to kiss a woman. After a few minutes, she slowly opened her mouth letting my tongue slid inside. Her tongue met mine softly touching the tip, and then our tongues were locked in a duel, touching, feinting, curled on the other, producing and filling our mouths with saliva. She took my tongue with her lips and swallowed it like a penis. She sucked and suckled trying to gobble it and pull it out of my throat. My excitement was growing and I couldn't keep my hands off her breasts, I had to touch and caress them above the bra. "Now Pierce, let me take the bra off" with that her hands went to her back and with practiced ease unclasped the hooks, letting it fall to the floor. She was now in her tiny white panties, white stockings and garter belt. She was stunning, her body that of a goddess, Aphrodite was the beast and Rachel the Beauty. My hands went now to her bare breasts, and I started to caress and squeeze the nipples between my fingers, then, immediately my mouth went straight to her nipples, sucking on them urgently for two or three minutes as the blood was filling my cock. The urgency of my desires made me try to do everything at once, touching her breasts, sucking, kissing and biting her nipples, and my actions were more abrupt than usual. She slide her hands down my chest, stroking my abs and then gently stroking my nipples, making the tips as hard as stone, then she leaned and took one nipple in her mouth, then the other, it was amazing, an electric current went from the tips to my cock. "You see my dear, men's nipples are as sensitive as that of women, you just have to be tender and excite them to come alive and produce pleasure, as is the case with women's breasts, this is another lesson, be tender, your lovers will be grateful" "Oh Rachel, can't believe it, it's incredible, never thought my nipples were like this" "They are. Men think a woman likes her breasts to be manhandled, that may be so sometimes, but you must let the woman to tell you when and how they want it rough. Let's go to bed now and make love properly" "Pierce" she whispered as she lay on her stomach in the bed. The long length of her naked back stretched from her waist, along the center, directly over her spine, a deep valley ran between the muscles in her back, rising and disappearing into her slender neck. From the waist down the same valley sank into a deep crack that ended in a beautiful pair of long tanned legs. I was mesmerized, the tiny panty, the stockings, the pumps, my memory going back ten years to a similar and beautiful body to which I was applying sun screen at our poolside. It was my mother's body. "What is it, Rachel?" My voice was hoarse, trembling and unrecognizable "I want you to touch me wherever you want to." "Are you sure?" I saw her nod into the pillows. "Not just sure, Pierce. I need you to touch me everywhere. I need that very badly, and I'll tell you how, where and when" a silence, "I'll teach you to really make love to a woman, wasn't that what you wanted?" "Yes Rachel, that's what I want, and I would like very much to touch you everywhere" I said. She sighed deeply and sank further into the mattress. I ran my hands up along her back, astounded at the silky smoothness of her skin, the unblemished surface burning to my touch. I don't remember how long stroked her back and neck, sliding my hands down to the curve of her ass, cupping her round cheeks in my palms. Finally, I couldn't hold myself back any longer; I allowed my fingers to drift down, along the cleft between her cheeks. I pulled off the flimsy panties and touched very lightly the pucker of her asshole and felt her twitch as my fingers passed over it. Then I moved them down, stroking her inner thighs and she widened her legs for me to gain greater access. Again my memories came back. I stroked downwards, and my fingers ran along the outer fold of her labia, her pussy-lips were very wet and I took her fluids with the tip of my fingers. I ran them up to her perineum, to the star of her ass and I tickled the rim getting it moist, and then I went back down, moving my fingers inwards a fraction, repeating this, moving them in a little more each time until I had stroked the full width of her pussy lips and eventually came to my target. At last I ran a finger directly up over the closed slit of her pussy. Her fluids had by now filled her and leaked out and my fingertip was coated as I ran it along the slit. Rachel moaned and lifted her hips backward. "Am I doing it right" I asked a moaning Rachel. "Yes, yes, keep it up, keep doing it" was her only answer. I lowered my hand again and stroked her, pushing more firmly on each pass, parting her lips and probing her inner labia with my middle finger, her wetness was pouring out and onto my hand, and onto the sheet. I cupped my palm downwards over her pussy, two fingers parting the labia and inserting them inside, now my middle finger had found the hard nub of her clitoris and was teasing the slippery surface. She was completely hairless and smooth, no sign of stubble or razor burn, no bikini lines, top or bottom, she suntanned au natural, she had just soft smooth skin as though she had never had any hair down there in her life, her pink flesh brilliant. She moaned, again and again. Rachel was breathing harder now, the red tip of her tongue licking her lips continuously and I began to rub faster and more meaningfully at her dripping sex. My cock was painfully hard and the head was leaking pre-cum. I didn't know how long it could take for Rachel to cum, but this seemed longer than any experience I had ever remembered. I desperately wanted to caress myself and let it go but dared not spoil the pleasure I was giving to her. She wanted me to make her cum, she was making that clear, but I was not sure of anything else. I was content with that, content with making this heavenly vision happy. Rachel moved, turned, swinging her legs at the same time. Her legs were parted and her wet sex glistened and drew my hand, she reached around and grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand aside. At the same time she pushed herself back towards me in the bed, once, twice, and then she kneeled before me with her head down. Our Tattered Lives In other time I couldn't have dreamed this angel wanted me to fuck her, but now there were more things I could do. I lowered myself down, bringing my face close to her ass-cheeks and kissed them, I ran my tongue up along her crack to her back, sucked it, then back down, passing over her asshole, letting my tongue rim her briefly, and onwards until my tongue parted her pussy-lips and I tasted her juices. She was tangy and sweet, the scent of her enveloping my face and almost made faint with pleasure. I lifted her hips in my hands and pushed my tongue deep between her pussy-lips, savoring her moisture, playing with her engorged clitoris. Rachel pushed back against me and grunted. "Oh Pierce," she murmured, then again, "Oh Pierce..." I was kneeling behind her licking her cunt and at the same gently stroking and caressing all over her thighs with my fingertips, while she moaned breathlessly, sobbing; I put one arm around her and reached her crotch from the front, massaging her clitoris with my fingers while my tongue pushed hard into her from behind. My face and mouth were soaked as I worked hard to bring her close to orgasm and then, just as I was sure she was going to climax she released the pressure and dropped back down. She grunted and looked back at me, calming down now, I held off, waiting until she had drawn back from the edge, then she raised her back again and I started to push my tongue into her again, she was holding off her release as I brought her to the edge a second time and then I felt her thighs begin to tremble again. "Oh fuck Pierce," Rachel groaned. "Make me cum now, please..." She was shaking, hardly able to control herself. I wanted desperately to release my cock and push it inside her, but I made no move to do that. I lowered my head and licked her again, then I let go of her pussy and went to her asshole, I started tonguing the rim, occasionally allowing the tip to push hard into her passage. Rachel moaned loudly and rocked her hips against my face. "Yes Pierce, yes. Make me cum... I need to cum badly now... make me cum pleaseee!" Then I dropped in the bed turned around on my back and slipped my head between her legs from below, now I had her pussy right over my face, I took hold of her ass and pulled her down; her pussy on my mouth I pushed my tongue deep inside, savoring the juices that flowed freely from her. My left fingers rubbed her clitoris and she gasped and started to tremble again and this time I didn't let her withdraw again I pushed harder, reached deeper, rubbed roughly as pleasure grew and rolled through her. As her thighs twitched and spasmed, I pushed my tongue as far as it would go into her cunt, and as she squealed and shook and I felt a new warm gush of fluid flood out of her and into my mouth. She was delicious, she was wanton, and she was going to cumm hard. As she cried out again and jerked, trying to pull away from me I then pushed the middle finger of my right hand hard into her asshole. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh my fucking god, oh fuck!" she cried. At the throes of her ecstasy I keep working on her, extending the peak as long as possible, but finally it began to subside and I felt her muscles loosening and relaxing above my mouth. I felt her slump against the pillow and my head; I licked her a final time along the slit of her pussy, got up from under her and licked up along her ass. Then I sat back and watched her slowly come to her senses. Finally she sighed deeply and rolled over. For the first time I saw her as human and not a goddess. She lay back with her head propped on the pillow, her legs parted around me, her flat stomach still heaving as she breathed. Her breasts were the most beautiful I had ever seen. They were not overly large, but maternal, and their shape, texture and firmness were from another world. Her areolas were dark rose in color and her nipples were a soft light pink, long and stiff. She looked down over her body at me, amused, unembarrassed, and smiling happily. "Pierce. That was incredible. I have never cum like that in my entire life. Thank you. I don't think you need much teaching, you are a natural" "It was my pleasure, I haven't done that before," I said. She placed her hand flat on her underbelly. "I can still feel it, here," she said softly. Her eyes were heavy with aroused passion and I could see her lids beginning to close. She smiled and shook her head. "I can't believe it, I'm sleepy now, it had never happened to me before....." "Don't worry." "But what about you, Pierce? I have to do something for you...that was the deal....Let me rest a couple hours, but don't let me sleep all the night" "You don't know what you already have done for me, don't you worry a bit" I said. "I don't want to leave you like this. Come and at least fuck me." "Don't worry, we'll do it in a couple hours, or in the morning" "You're sure?" "More sure than of anything before" I sat back on my heels and stood up, offered her my hand and when she took it pulled me in bed and on her. She threw her arms around me and hugged me, I enclosed her in mine, still not quite sure how to deal with her. She cuddled against me then pulled her face away and kissed me deeply on the mouth. "I think I love you, Pierce" I smiled. I knew I had made a good performance in what I had just done to her, but I also knew it was her satisfaction talking and not her heart. "Let's go to sleep" I said to her. I took her hand and as she pulled the sheets aside slid into the large bed. "Let me have a look at you, at what you have for me, Pierce. I want to see what you have been keeping from me" I looked down at the long bulge in the sheets. I was still very hard, and I was no longer embarrassed, she hadn't look or commented about my face, my two color beard or hair, she hadn't even been disgusted when she had kissed me in the mouth. My cock jerked upwards when I lifted the sheet. At my age it stood vertical leaning to the left a little and on my stomach. It rose just above horizontal, veined and pale, jutting out from my dense black pubic hair, the foreskin pulled back and the deep ridge around the head raised and angry purple. Rachel was watching me and my cock with eyes that were barely open. "Pierce, Am I dreaming?" she whispered. "Not yet," I said. "My god, Pierce, THAT thing is really huge... that's the biggest cock I have ever seen... mmmm... Come and hold me, dear" I let the cover down and slid beside her; she turned around and wriggled her ass back towards me. "Put that big dick between my legs, Pierce. Just let it rest in between my legs..." I scooted across the bed from my side to hers, slid my cock between her parted thighs and put my arms around her, cupping her breasts in my palms. "Oh yes, I like that very much, hold me tightly" she said to me sleepily. She closed her thighs and my shaft was pressed by the lips of her vagina. I could not see the head of my cock, but I'm sure it appeared in front of her legs, I'm sure it must have seemed that my cock was hers, that she was sporting a cock "I'm sorry, Pierce, but I am just so tired... It is been a long time since I've had a session like this, I will make it up to you tomorrow..." "That's all right, we'll talk in the morning" I said. "Sweet dreams." She wriggled her ass back against me, her hand dropped and I felt her fingers encircle my cock and grip it hard. Gradually I felt how the tensed muscles of her body relaxed as her breathing deepened into sleep. I lay there carefully listening, feeling her soft breath leave her body; proof of the depth of her sleep and her fatigue were the soft snores from time to time escaped her mouth. I was happy; I was feeling the firm weight of her breast in my hand, and my cock was as hard as a rock, would it stay as hard as it was all night? I haven't cum. Most probably it will. I took a look at the clock on the night table, it was 2 am and I was awake. We had come to bed just after nine. At eleven thirty she had gone to sleep. At some point sleep must have taken me, because the next thing I knew I was laying on my back and a noise woke me. It was Rachel flushing the toilet and then she walked back into the bedroom, naked and unselfconscious. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she slid back in bed, "I needed to pee. I didn't want to wake you up." "Don't worry" I said, and lifted my arm. She curled beside it and hugged against me, her breasts parting around my ribcage so one flattened on my chest and the other pushed against my side. She kissed me on my right cheek, not caring about the beard or the scar in it; then she took my head with her hand and kissed me hotly on the mouth. Our lips opened and I felt her tongue dueling against mine. She lifted herself on the bed, put both of her hands on my face and kissed me with uncontrollable passion. I felt my cock stretching and beginning to fill again. Rachel's leg moved over my waist, her hands released my face, one caressed my face and the other moved down across my chest, dragged over my stomach to find the base of my cock and gripped it. Now I was fully erect again, and she slid her hand up along my, until she reached my cock's head and then enclosed it. I could feel her fingers rubbing my piss hole in the centre of my head-cock, drawing fluids out from it and rubbing it over me. She threw the sheets down and pulled herself up, holding my cock and looking at it. I lay back in the pillow, my hands under my head and let her watch me. She stared intently at it, fascinated; I couldn't believe it, she was after all a mature woman with knowledge, in the biblical sense, of many men and their tools. She pushed it to one side and then the other, gently plying my foreskin back up and down, not masturbating me, to cover my cock head and then drawing it back. She leaned further down and looked at my balls. They were large and heavy, covered in hair, and she cupped them, squeezed them gently and kissed them. "Why don't you shave your balls?" she asked."They are beautiful, and I could see them better if you did." "Well...you see, I work in a very rough environment, the people who works with me are very crude, since I don't go whoring with them, they think maybe I'm gay" She looked up at me. "They think WHAT, Really? Is that true?" "Yes really, it doesn't matter to me what they think, but they do" "But that's nonsense; nowadays many men completely shave their genitals" She exclaimed. "Ok, if you like it I'll do it as soon as I get up," I said. "Would you that for me?" Her eyes were like saucers "Of course, you shave your pussy, so it seems only fair." "Oh that," she said. "I don't shave it. The agency paid for laser removal. Many clients prefer a bald pussy, my husband does not care one way or other, and it's better for my work, and I don't worry about it again." "Your husband doesn't mind?" "No. Why? He doesn't usually look my crotch or touch it, and I like my pussy to be clean and smooth. Don't you like it?" "I sure do," I said. She laughed "That's what I thought last evening." She looked closer at my cock. "This is beautiful," she said, "So very beautiful." She leaned down and kissed the side of my cock. "I want to make you cum now. Can I do that for you Pierce?" I smiled. "That would make me very happy." "It would make me very happy, too" she said looking into my eyes. Rachel kissed my cock again, planting tiny circles of wetness with the tip of her tongue from the base to the head. Then she slid her tongue out and with the flat licked me all along my shaft, dropped, lay down and licked and sucked my balls into her mouth, wetting them all over. She lifted her head and asked me, "You like?" Without waiting for an answer she dipped her head again and began tonguing my testicles delicately, deliberately massaging and probing at them. As she tongued me I saw her white blonde hair falling around her face and my pubis, it was the image that I had so often imagined, that of my mother sucking me, she wasn't, but I felt evil and lewd and lecherous. I felt finally free. I squealed loudly and rose up off the bed when she gently sucked one of my balls into her hungry mouth and rolled it across with her tongue. I thought I was losing my mind; for several minutes she alternated from one heavy nut to the other, sucking and licking and slurping. I could only writhe and buck over her as she mouthed me. She got herself back up, her face against my stomach, her warm moist breath against the head of my cock and I felt her lips gently enclose it. Her tongue ran around my glands, the tip felt under the ridge and then back up and probed inside the slit of my cock. "I like the taste of you. Young cock has a way of tasting so good, so different from older men's cocks" she said, and then sucked my cock again, sliding me deeper into her mouth. My cock was much too big for her to get anywhere near taking my full length, but with her experience, she took three quarters of my cock inside her mouth. She opened it wider and tried to gobble more, she started to gag as I touched the top of her throat, fighting it off and continuing to swallow me. She made a small noise, like a gurgle, and continued to gobble my engorged dick. I haven't had many women, but none could take more than five inches of my cock in their mouths, my goddess had already swallowed seven and was trying to get the remaining inch. I felt her throat clench and constrict, then she pulled away and breathed deeply. "Oh Rachel" I whimpered I took her by the shoulders and she came up to me and kissed me deeply. I could taste my cock on her mouth and it made me even more excited as I ran my tongue all around in her mouth and lips. "It's okay," I said. "You don't have to do that. You don't have to take all" "I know it, but I want to," she said. "I want all of you. Let me try again." She slid down over me and closed her lips over my bloated cock again. I sat up against the pillows and watched as more and more of my cock disappeared between her lips. I watched as with her experience she adjusted her head angle, turning around so I was sliding it over her chin and straight into her throat. I felt the fat head touch her tonsils, then the top of her throat and I heard her take a deep breath in through her nose, she was deep throating me. She opened her throat and pressed down and I felt the tight muscles close around me. She twitched and then steadied herself, breathing thorough her nose, as she pushed down harder to let me slid inside her, down into the top of her gullet, slid until her mouth was pushed hard against my pubic bone and my cock head was buried inside her throat. I felt the muscles in her neck contract and open around my cock, felt her head bob and I slid back out and then in again. She lifted her head and took a deep breath, took me back inside. Deep inside, my prostate was starting to ache. My balls pulled up and contracted against my body and Rachel could felt it as she cupped them. My cock seemed to expand a little more. Next time she pulled away to breathe I took her chin in my hand and looked into her eyes. I said nothing at all, I was mesmerized just watching her, the she softly said, "I want you to let go now, Pierce. I want you to cum in my mouth," and I nodded. She took me inside her mouth again, and breathed deeply two or three times, before she lowered her head and I slid inside, touched the opening of her throat and then went deeper. That's when I felt the urge rise in my balls, and I gave up and allowed myself the release. She seemed to recognise the signs, she pulled back off my cock and asked, "Are you ready baby" The word "baby" made something snap inside of my head. I just nodded feebly and she began jerking me harder and faster. My world seemed to freeze momentarily and I cried out sharply. I felt my cock spasm in her hand and as I started to come I yelled, "Mom!" She bent sharply at the waist and tried to stuff the enormous head of my penis in her mouth to catch my ejaculation. She was just a second too slow and my first jet of warm semen splattered against her upper lip and cheek. She moaned and scrambled to wrap her lips around my engorged and angry knob. The pent up tension of months of sexual deprivation were released as stream after stream of thick, warm cum boiled out of my balls and filled her mouth, she swallowed as fast as she could as a river of thick, warm semen poured from my lurching penis. My head was spinning as she hungrily gobbled my warm, salty cum and I was conscious of my tortured moans of pleasure filling the bedroom and echoing inside my head. I used my hands on the back of her head urging her not to stop. "Mooom" I cried again, pushing her head hard, "It feels so good! Please don't stop Mom! Oh God! Oh God" I could hear her moan against my warm thickness; her hand was pulling at the base of my cock, squeezing and yanking it vigorously. Only a small portion of my dick was in her mouth but it felt like I was entirely enclosed. I came so hard and so heavy I saw she was unable to swallow fast enough. Over and over I convulsed in her mouth, flooding it to overflowing. Trickles of my slippery syrup escaped the corners of her mouth and ran down her chin. "Ooooohhhhhhhhh Mother" I heard myself sobbing as my orgasm gradually slowed to a stop and my head slowed its spinning. I could feel my entire body trembling as she ran her fingers up the underside of my massive organ and squeezed the last of my come into her ravenous mouth. My cock began to soften and Rachel propped herself on her elbows and watched me as it deflate, I thought she was fascinated at the change as it finally lay down on my thigh, still long but no longer hard, but it was something different she was fascinated with. "How did you do that," I gasped. "What do you mean baby" she said. I was confused, I had no recollection of what I had said while cumming "I did it because I wanted to. I wanted to do something special for you. I've never had something as big as your cock before in my mouth. But it wasn't so hard" "Oh, I thought it was pretty hard," I said jokingly, and she slapped my stomach with the back of her hand. "How long until you can get hard again, Pierce?" she asked. "I don't know. Not right away, an hour or two probably" "Okay. We'll wait until tonight then." I felt confused, I looked at the bedside table clock; it was six thirty in the morning, it had been a long and satisfying night, maybe the best of my life, but the night had ended, and her time with me. It had been worth the three grand. She climbed up along my chest and kissed me. I could still taste my cock on her mouth, but now also tasted my own cum. I licked her cheeks and lips, and I allowed myself to taste it. "I would like that very much" "That's good, very good. But tonight I want you to fuck me properly. I have other needs you are going to fulfill. Okay?" "Okay," I said, "I might be able to manage that" Then, out of the blue, as if reading my mind she said. "Don't worry Pierce, tonight is on me" She bounced up out of bed like a teenager. "Come on Pierce, come and shower with me and let me shave your balls for you" After that we went to bed until it was time for her to go. Oh my God, I thought, if only.... *7* Sleep claimed me at last and, surprisingly, it was free of dreams and nightmares. I swam up from an inky blackness to the greyish light that entered my bedroom via the windows on the south side of the room. I sensed Rachel was already gone. I blinked and rose up on one elbow. It was gloomy and raining. The bedside clock read 9:45 a.m. Then I remembered the night before and my heart was filled with warm sunshine and bright happiness. I jumped out of bed and paused as my neck and shoulder muscles protested and my mouth and tongue were a little sore. "Hey, little boy take it easy, we aren't used to that kind of workouts as you put us through last night."