2 comments/ 93452 views/ 12 favorites Mrs. Swanson By: PerilEyes I first saw her in the food line. She was beside me feeding her plate with salad. With the way she was hunched over I couldn't resist looking down her black blouse. I was discrete. I hit her with a few indirect glances, looking in her direction but not exactly at her. Her cleavage was mighty; her breasts were very well developed. Then when she stood up to slide further down the line, I could not restrain myself in examining her lower body. Her ass filled that tight denim skirt perfectly. It stopped just before her knees and was to die for. Staring at those back pockets was hypnotic. Moving down her legs, she completely her appearance with a pair black pumps. My parents invited a bunch of their friends and acquaintances to this barbeque. I thought it was unfair to me because they intended it to be a bash for their company so my own pals were out of the question. It was tough trying to mingle with people who were a generation above me. To me it was a lost cause. The only worthwhile thing that did come out of this outing was Mrs. Swanson. She was nothing like the girls I saw around my university campus. For one thing, she was easily 15 years my senior. She was so developed and experienced. I wasn't sure where she fitted in as a friend to my parents. Everyone knew where she lived but not much more than that. Word was that she was courteous enough so it was a wonder why she never garnered much attention. She was certainly a gorgeous woman. Her red hair and brown eyes were certainly an oddity, but I liked it. She only wore a bit of makeup because she was so naturally radiant. We both finished grabbing our food and found separate places to eat. People were scattered all over our back yard. There were mostly groups of four or five. Everyone was chatting about with at least one other person except for me and Mrs Swanson. We sat about twenty feet across from each other. As I munched on, I watched her pick at her own food and play with her cell phone. Her skirt tightened into a convenient little place mat for her plate. Her skin coloured hose was so delightful to look at. Again I pondered the anomaly of this woman. She was absolutely gorgeous, yet she ate alone? Why was she even alone anyways? Where was Mr. Swanson? Did he even exist? If he did, I never saw him. I saw HER a lot though. Whenever my parents sent me to do random chores in the front yard I'd sometimes see her hanging around on her lawn. She was one house over on the opposite side of the street. Thus my view of her was pretty good. Somehow she dropped her phone and it landed under her chair. With a plate on her lap it was awkward manoeuvring to find it. She hunched over and reached down to try to feel out with her hands. She was having a difficult time but eventually retrieved. All the while I got a nice peek of a dark coloured bra. Maybe it was because I had to find out about her for myself and maybe it was because I pitied her for sitting in solitude, but I got up and sat down next to her. Her beautiful face lit up at the sight of my presence. I got to see those pink lips and white teeth at work. "Oh hey Jakey!" "You know my name?" I didn't know why I said that. Certainly, it was out of nervousness but seeing as I was fine a few seconds ago, I didn't know what came over me. I guessed that her playfulness in pronouncing my name really threw me off. "Of course I do Jake. It'd be really bad of me not to know the names of my hosts, wouldn't it?" Her smile made me smile. "Yeah, I guess it would." "I see you Jake, outside your house mowing the lawn or raking leaves. If it's warm enough with your shirt off too..." She laughed. So did I. Very nervously. I blushed at the statement. I didn't know where she was going with it so I changed the subject to something that was certain to go somewhere. "Sorry if this is a little intrusive, but is there a Mr. Swanson?" Her expression dropped a tiny bit but she still maintained her smile. "No. There was...but he left. We had kids pretty earlier so they're all grown up and moved out. SO, it's just me." I think I heard a sigh accompany those final two words. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear." "So am I." "Why keep his name?" "Convenience mainly. After being Mrs. Swanson for a while it becomes it's so much easier." She paused. "Plus, I don't want people to know that I'm a forty year old divorcee. It's a little embarrassing to be honest." I was ready to probe her longer when I heard my name from halfway across the yard. "JAAAAAAKE! Can you get a garbage bag from the garage?" It was my mom. I rolled my eyes because I was in the middle of something with Mrs. Swanson. Still, I excused myself from the conversation and said I'd be back in a bit. I was in there for a good five minutes looking for those stupid bags. I rummaged through the shelves in near futility. "Where in the bloody hell are they?!" I went through boxes and boxes trying to find them but I came up with nothing. Forget it, I thought I was calling it quits. I headed towards the door when I saw a shadowy figure standing in the doorway. The dimness of the garage masked who it was. It couldn't be, I thought to myself. The figure flicked the light switch. I thought two things when that happened. The first was turning on the light would've aided my bag searching mission a lot more. The second thought was "holy shit." Here was Mrs. Swanson leaning on the doorframe looking very seductive. I gulped. "Mrs Swanson? What are you doing here?" "Please, Jake, call me Rachel." I swallowed again. I was fidgeting. "Ok...Rachel...what are you doing here?" She stepped forward and stood in front of me. Her breasts just jutted toward me. It made me tense just looking at them. Suddenly, I sensed where she was going with this. I shifted gears into anticipation mode. "I just wanted to help you." She smiled again. She held my hands in hers. They were so soft compared to my rugged skin. "You're hands, they're shaking Jake. Are you uneasy about something?" She teased. "A little." I played back to her. "Well, you know what I'd do when my hands can't stop moving? I put them in my pockets." And with that she guided my hands into the back pockets of her skirt. Then she forced them to give her denim clad ass a squeeze. It felt so good. Her cheeks were so firm. The fabric ran so nicely on my fingers. She took her hands away from mine and allowed me the free agency to massage her buttocks. While I did that, our bodies got closer and she ran her hands up my black t-shirt. I pinched her ass and she jumped a bit. My cock was ready to escape its own denim dungeon. Mrs. Swanson unbuttoned my jeans and let it out. She gasped. "Oh my...Jakey's got a snakey!" She sang. She stroked my stiff member. I was hot now. I wanted her. But a huge precaution stopped me. "Wait...I don't have a condom Mrs Swanson." "It's Rachel. And don't worry Jakey...I'm on the pill." She winked and smirked at me. With those fears put away, I had free enterprise to do as I liked. I took my hands out of her pockets and grabbed her head. I forced a kiss on her beautiful face while she continued to stroke my rocket. I could her sweet muffled moans. I broke my hold on her as soon as I felt her unbutton her skirt. I whipped my hands out of her pockets and stopped her. "Mmm, no. Please. Keep it on. You look so damn sexy with it." Rachel smiled quite deviously. Instead she just hiked up her skirt all the way to her waist. She tugged her black panties aside to reveal a quite rabid bush that matched her red locks. She licked her finger and rubbed her pussy lips. Seeing her do that made me tear open her silk blouse. She was a VERY developed woman. Huge areolas, perky nipples. I had to have her now so I rushed her back into a wall. Just like my hands, my shaking cock needed a pocket of its own. I took her against that wall. I was relentless. I lifted her up by her meaty ass cheeks and ploughed through the forest. She locked her powerful legs around my hips and just hung on for dear life. With one hand she clutched the shelving unit above us for leverage and with the other she held on to me. Mrs. Swanson, I mean, Rachel was panting hard. The only words she spoke were very airy "yes's". I was very willing to oblige. How could I turn away from such a delicious body? Rachel was just starving for attention. She was without a man in her life to give her the proper attention she so obviously deserved. Thinking back to her comment about watching me while I worked, she was hinting that she was a prowler. And now, following me out to the garage only cemented that opinion. I fucked her for several minutes longer. The desperation in her voice told me that she was close. The feeling in my cock told me I was nearing my apex too. Feeling that scrunched up denim skirt against my stomach really got me going. I kissed every bit of exposed skin that lay in my line of vision. I worshipped her chest from her beautiful nipples up to her neckline. She played with my hair a lot and kept me head extremely close to her. I pumped her hard. Her little moans coupled my rapid jerks. I was going to explode. "I-I-I'M starting to cum Mrs Swanson!!!!!!" With that I filled her box with my creamy white filling. She let out a primal scream as we held each other in embrace. I pulled out of her. There we both stood sweaty and dripping cum from our love makers. Even with all that, I didn't have a proper release in her. I voiced this to her. "You know I still have more to give." "That's ok, I have just the spot for you." I thought she was going to let me cream on her face or breasts, but instead she did something different. She lowered her skirt and fixed it up nice. She spread out nice and gave me the green light. I stroked my rocket one more time and uneven streams marked up the denim. I couldn't believe I was destroying her wonderful skirt like I was, but it was the most erotic thing I'd done today (next to fucking her of course). By the time I was finished the fabric was completely debased. There was one huge stain in the middle of it. From afar it might've looked like Rachel soiled herself but in close proximity it was unmistakable. We both tended to our appearances. She fixed her blouse and combed her hair with her hand. I pulled up my jeans and once again locked up my cock with droplets of cum in tow. She spoke to me. "Okay, I'll go out first. You wait a few minutes and then come out." "Wait, you're going out like that?!" She wasn't moved by my perplexity. Instead she put on a sly little grin. "Yeah, why not?" Then she opened the door and made her exit. As per her instructions, I followed after her after about 3 minutes later. I finally saw that the bags I originally was looking for were conveniently placed beside the door so I took them. I had no idea how I missed them to begin with. I handed them to my mother who commented on my distressed appearance and my elongated absence. I fabricated the excuse that it was like a sauna in that labyrinth of a garage. I scoured through all the bodies for her. Where was this woman? Had she disappeared? I couldn't see her anywhere in the yard so I went back to our seats. Her purse was gone. So was her food. So she HAD made her exit after all. Apparently she had left something for me however. Her plate was flipped over with a message in red lipstick written on the back. I picked it up to read it. "SEE YOU AROUND JACKY." I was sad that she was apparently gone but I just had to smile at the gesture. I turned the plate around only to read another message! "PS HOPE YOU ENJOY THE GIFT" Then I saw a pair of panties, her panties, on the chair. I quickly scooped them up so that nobody saw. I briefly sniffed them stuffed them into my jean pocket. As I pondered how this woman got her panties off in broad daylight in the middle of a barbeque, I just reassured myself that Mrs. Rachel Swanson was truly something else. Mrs. Swanson's Boarding House 'Mr. Morton, what is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Swanson had summoned Carl Morton her newest boarder to her parlor. Displayed on the coffee table were two white sheets; white. that is. except for the yellowish stains that Carl could plainly see. "I..I..I d.d.don't know!" Carl stammered embarrassed to be questioned about the obvious semen stains on the otherwise immaculate sheets. "Come now, Mr. Morton." Mrs. Swanson scolded in her best motherly voice. "Surely you don't expect a proper lady to explain your bodily functions, and you want to go to medical school?" "I..I.. know what the stains are, Mrs. Swanson." Carl confessed as Susan Bridgeway looked on, bemused. Susan Bridgeway was Mrs. Swanson's housekeeper and cook. She stood slightly behind Mrs. Swanson dressed in her maids uniform, a plain black dress with white cuffs and collar. The dress buttoned all the way from the hem of its skirt which was mid calf to its collar. Her blond hair was pinned up in a no nonsense "bun" and she wore white stockings and sensible shoes. She was the picture of domestic efficiency. Carl's face reddened as he stood before the two women, they were both roughly his mother's age. "Do you recall, Mr. Morton, that when your parents and I signed your boarding contract they agreed that I would act "in loco parentis"? "Yes, Mrs. Swanson." Carl recalled waiting in the dining room while his parents, the Doctor and Mrs. Morton discussed the details of his living arrangements while he attended the university to study pre-med. Mrs. Bridgeway had served him cookies and milk while he waited. Doctor Morton had lived at Mrs. Swanson's while he attended medical school and had been introduced to Carl's mother the former Sarah Lee Parker by Mrs. Swanson. Their discussions seemed to drag on forever but Carl reasoned that being old friends they most likely spent some time just catching up. When Carl was finally summoned to the parlor where his parents had been meeting with Mrs. Swanson behind closed doors he found his mother chatting with Mrs. Swanson as his father appeared to be adjusting his tie. His father's suit coat was draped on a clothes tree; the kind found in a gentleman's bedroom. An odd piece of furniture for a parlor Carl thought at the time. "Carl." His mother began. "Mrs. Swanson has agreed to accept responsibility for you while you are attending university." "I don't think I understand, Mother?" Carl thought he would be on his own when he left home to attend college. "Son." His father interrupted as he put his suit coat on. "It's a formality, in case of an emergency Mrs. Swanson will be able to make decisions that your mother and I would normally make for you." "That's right, dear." His mother added. "Your father's parents signed the same agreement when he lived at Mrs. Swanson's. Didn't they, Roger?" "My parents trusted Mrs. Swanson to supervise me and your mother and I trust Mrs. Swanson to keep an eye on you for us." "Mr. Morton, among other things, you agreed that you would not make unnecessary work for me or Miss Bridgeway. Do you recall, Mr. Morton?" "Yes, ma'am." Carl replied quietly. What would his parents think if they knew his first infraction involved a wet dream? "And do you recall that you would always wear a suit and tie when you used the common rooms?" Carl had failed to put on his suit coat when Miss Bridgeway informed him that his presence was required by Mrs. Swanson in the parlor. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again." Carl looked down as he apologized. I'm afraid that apologies alone will not suffice, Mr. Morton." Mrs. Swanson scolded. "I want you to go back to your room and write two proper apologies. One to Miss Bridgeway for making her work harder, and one to me for disrespecting my rules. Do you think you can manage that, Mr. Morton?" "Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am." Carl almost bowed as he left the room. She made him feel so childlike and small. As he hurriedly wrote his apologies, Tom Murphy an upper classman already in medical school entered his room. "She called you downstairs?" Carl nodded yes but didn't look up as he continued to write. "Did she close the door?" Just the way he asked the question made Carl feel that Tom knew more than he let on. "No, she left it open, why do you ask?" "Oh, nothing." Carl couldn't help but notice a faint smile on Tom's lips. "I guess you'll find out soon enough." "Find out what? Carl demanded. "You know it's against the rules to discuss anything about Mrs. Swanson's. Do you want me to get into trouble too?" Tom turned and left the room leaving Carl to finish his notes of apology and wondering what might be going on. When Carl returned to the foyer the doors to the parlor were closed. Carl knocked softly. The door was answered by Miss Bridgeway. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait in the kitchen, Mr. Morton. Mrs. Swanson is attending to Mr. Butler." She closed the door behind her and ushered Carl to the rear of the house. Wait here until I come back to get you, Mr. Morton. Miss Bridgeway's manner was all business. Cool, almost cold, calm and efficient, she carried herself in such a way as to demand respect. Her posture might have been described as aloof were it not for the maid's uniform. She was small; no more than five-two but sturdy; maybe a hundred and forty pounds. Her uniform accentuated her ample bosom, tight belly and full round buttocks. Carl watched as she returned to the parlor. Her hips seemed to sway in a way he hadn't noticed before. Before she reentered the parlor she looked back at him and seemed to smile ever so slightly. As he blushed and looked away he noticed a slight stirring in his trousers. Carl waited patiently; actually relieved for the moment that he wasn't facing Mrs. Swanson. As time passed he wondered what might be taking so long and rehearsed his apology over and over again. Soon enough the parlor doors opened and Scott Butler, another upper classman left without even looking towards Carl. Miss Bridgeway stepped into the hall and motioned for Carl to come to the parlor. Carl drew a deep breath, stood, adjusted his suit coat and walked quickly to his second meeting with Mrs. Swanson. As he entered the parlor he had to turn sideways to avoid brushing against Miss Bridgeway whose dress collar was no longer buttoned al the way to the top. "Excuse me, please." He asked politely. "You're excused, Mr. Morton." Miss Bridgeway smiled as she looked into his eyes and caused him to blush. "Please come in, Mr. Morton." Mrs. Swanson ordered. "Let me see your apology." The parlor door closed quietly behind him. "Which one ma'am." "Let's start with your least serious offense, failing to wear your suit coat when you came down to meet with me." Carl handed a small envelope to Mrs. Swanson. She opened it glanced at the contents, smiled and said, "Thank-you, Mr. Morton, your apology is accepted. Please be more careful in the future." "I can assure you that I will, Mrs. Swanson, thank-you for being so understanding." "You're welcome, Mr. Morton. Now we must deal with the more serious matter; creating extra work for Miss Bridgeway. May I see your apology please?" Carl handed the second envelope to Mrs. Swanson. She read the note, smiled and handed it to her maid. Miss Bridgeway read it and smiled. "You seem contrite enough, Mr. Morton, but mere contrition is not enough to mitigate this situation. You must be willing to do two things to make this right. First, you must take steps to prevent this sort of thing from happening in the future. And second you must perform an act of restitution. Do you agree, Mr. Morton?" "I think I understand what you mean but what do you want?" "As far as restitution is concerned I think helping Miss Bridgeway in the laundry for an hour would be fair. Would that be sufficient for you, Miss Bridgeway?" "That would be fair, Mrs. Swanson, thank-you." "Very well then, you will help in the laundry at a time that is convenient for you but you must complete your service by the end of the week, is that understood?" "Yes, ma'am." Carl answered quickly. "Good!" Mrs. Swanson exclaimed. "Now we must deal with prevention. As with most young men your age you seem to suffer from rather frequent nocturnal emissions." Carl blushed, his eyes turned down. "Isn't that right Miss Bridgeway?" "I should say so, ma'am. Every night it seems to me." "That's not healthy, not healthy at all. For a young man like you to be successful at school you must be able to focus on your studies. While you may not be aware of it your subconscious is pre occupied with sex." Carl could feel his penis beginning to throb. He was unable to look at Mrs. Swanson as she spoke. "Please take your jacket and hang it on the clothes tree." "I beg your pardon." "I want you to be more comfortable as we talk." Mrs. Swanson reassured him. "Now hang your jacket up and come sit beside me." Mrs. Swanson patted the seat next to her on the settee." As he sat down Mrs. Swanson placed her hand on his knee. "Look at me Carl." It was the first time she had addressed him by his first name. "Do you trust me, Carl?" Carl blushed, afraid that the growing bulge was becoming obvious. "Yes ma'am." "Your mother and I discussed this very topic when your parents brought you to me. She was very apologetic that she had not yet started your training..." "My training?" Carl interrupted, confused. "Please don't interrupt, Carl. Your mother felt that she didn't have enough time. Your birthday was just last week so she asked me to begin your training. It's unusual for a young man to be placed in my care without any training at all but under the circumstances I agreed. Now where was I?" "You were explaining to Carl that young men like him can be preoccupied with sex and not even know it." Miss Bridgeway offered. "Thank-you, Susan. That's right; in fact, all men are preoccupied with sex! That is why women must help men control their urges. Wives, of course, help their husbands but young men must be helped by the women in their lives who love them and care for them. That starts with their mothers usually, but it could be their aunts or sisters or cousins or any woman who cares for the young man and wants him to grow into a healthy, intelligent, successful gentleman; a man who loves and respects all women but especially his wife. Do you understand, Carl?" "I think so..." Carl really wasn't sure where this was going. "Do you masturbate, Carl?" The question was so direct that it caught Carl off guard. "It's all right, Carl. You can say yes. Little boys masturbate. Don't they, Susan?" "I should say so!" Susan exclaimed. "Do you want to grow emotionally, Carl?" "Yes, of course." "Then I'm sure you'll agree that it's unhealthy to play with yourself all alone in the dark in your room, or worse, looking at dirty pictures." Carl nodded, yes." "And you'll also agree that a daily sexual release will help prevent these nasty nocturnal emissions you've been having." Carl nodded again without thinking. He was agreeing just to be agreeable. He was uncomfortable to say the least and wanted to end this and go back to his room. "And that Miss Bridgeway and I should help you control your natural urges so that you can have a healthy relationship with women all your life." "Yes, Mrs. Swanson." "Good, now let's get a look at you. Miss Bridgeway, show Carl the proper way to place his clothes on the clothes tree. Pay attention Carl, whenever you come to us for help you will always come to us properly dressed, you will explain that you need our help and you will ask permission to remove your clothing so that we can help you. The proper thing to say first is 'ma'am, I need your help, may I please remove my clothing?'" Carl just stood there in silence, shocked, unable to speak or move. "Did you hear me, Carl?" "Yes, but..." "Carl!" Mrs. Swanson interrupted sternly, "Would you like me to call your parents?" "No, ma'am." "Then proceed." Carl rose and started to loosen his tie. "Mr. Morton!" Mrs. Swanson's voice indicated her displeasure. "What did I tell you you must do?" Carl blushed. "Ma'am, I need your help, may I please remove my clothing." "Yes you may." Miss Bridgeway helped Carl take off his tie and shirt. Carl felt very uneasy. He wanted to resist but then again he was strangely excited. "Leave his shorts on, Miss Bridgeway." "Of course, ma'am." When all his clothes were neatly arranged Miss Bridgeway took Carl by the hand and led him over to Mrs. Swanson. Carl's penis was just barely constrained. "Do you think it is proper for a man to let a woman know that he appreciates her, Carl?" "It would be polite to do so, Mrs. Swanson." "That's right, Carl. And do you know how a man expresses his ultimate appreciation?" "I'm not sure what you mean, Mrs. Swanson." "When a man begins to notice a woman there is a sub-conscious response that he is unable to control. His penis begins to swell. The deeper his appreciation the more intense the swelling. Unfortunately, for women, men have hidden their penises and consequently the surest sign of their interest under layers of clothing. Your mother and I belong to a small cadre of modern women who want to change this. We believe that the world would be a better place if men were free to express their desires naturally. We believe that men should be naked at all times so that as women we can observe them and help them control their natural desires." "But, Mrs. Swanson, that's not possible!" "Of course, dear, you're right! Society isn't ready yet and may never be. But, in my home, and in the homes of a surprising number of enlightened women it is happening! When your parents went home the first thing your father did when he entered the house was strip!" "But what about my sister?" "Your mother has been teaching your sister Ruth about the ways of The Sisterhood since she turned eighteen. I am giving you a choice. On the one hand you may reject my offer to bring you into our CFNM world. A world enjoyed by your parents and sister. A world enjoyed by your aunt Carolyn, Uncle Ward and Cousin Chris..." "Wait, what is CFNM?" "It stands for Clothed Female Naked Male." "But why are the men the only ones who are naked?" "Because women in our world are the dominate sex, Carl. No matter how successful a man becomes in his career, and believe me, when I tell you that the ladies of the sisterhood expect their men to be highly successful, in a CFNM home the women rule. The most obvious expression of that dominance is the clothing that hides her private parts from all men except their husbands or lovers and even they must earn the right to see and touch. But then CFNM men learn from an early age how to please women. If you reject this world you will not be a full time member of your family. You will be excluded from many family events and you will be asked to leave my home tonight. On the other hand if you choose to submit to the CFNM lifestyle I will begin your education immediately! If you want to stay please take off your shorts and show me your penis." Carl's mind was spinning out of control. Could he believe Mrs. Swanson? Was his father the Dr. Roger Swanson, Chief of Surgery at Memorial Hospital willing to parade around naked at home? He remembered his father adjusting his tie in this very room. "May I ask one question, ma'am?" "Just one, Carl, and then you must decide.' "Has my father ever been naked in your home?" "I trained your father, Carl. I introduced him to your mother. Whenever he visits whether your mother is with him or not he spends some of his visit naked as a sign of his respect. It's time to make your choice." Carl stepped out of his shorts, folded them and placed them on the clothes tree. He turned and took one step towards Mrs. Swanson. His penis was fully erect. Mrs. Swanson smiled, "You've got a lovely penis, Carl! Don't you agree Miss Bridgeway? "Indeed I do! And Carl's testicles are very nice too! May I touch them?" "Soon enough, Miss Bridgeway." She took his testicles in her hand and slowly rolled them from side to side. She pulled gently trying to get them to loosen but they drew even tighter. "Do your balls ever ache Carl? "Sometimes." He moaned. When they do you must come to me or Miss Bridgeway, do you understand? "Yes, ma'am." "You are never, ever to jack-off by yourself." Mrs. Swanson scolded. "From now on your sexual release will be monitored by one of the Sisters. Do you understand?" "Yes, ma'am." Carl's erection was becoming painful. "Miss Bridgeway?" "Yes, ma'am." "Do you see how dark Carl's penis is becoming?" "Yes, ma'am." "The head is especially swollen now, it's super sensitive. We could make him cum with just a few quick pumps but I want this one to build up. At this point I like to refer to the penis as a cock. It sounds so much more powerful. I might make him cum without touching his cock, wouldn't that be fun? Carl moaned helplessly, his knees began to shake. "Pleeeaseee......" "Please what? Carl. What do you want? You can tell me!" Mrs. Swanson had him literally by the balls and she was enjoying every minute. She knew that training Carl would be even better than training his father. Carl would be second generation CFNM. The movement was growing. A movement that had existed in isolation since time began. But now, in the modern era, the ease of communication had broken down the barriers that limited its growth in the past. "Tell me what you want me to do." "I need to cum!" Carl pleaded. "Make me cum!" "I like spurt, Carl. Can you say 'make me spurt' for me." "Oh.h.h yes.s.s.s please.. Make Me Spurt!!! Please make me spurt." "Isn't it just wonderful how anxious a young man gets when he's really excited, Miss Bridgeway?" "Indeed it is! Mr. Morton can't seem to keep his hips still and you haven't even touched his pretty penis. He looks so sweet thrusting his hips and clenching his butt cheeks." Carl was on the brink of cuming but Mrs. Swanson knew how to keep a slow steady pace that would keep him that way as long as she wanted. "From now on Carl you will live by my rules! You must promise that you will never masturbate yourself unless one of the Sisters gives you permission." "Yes, ma'am." Carl moaned. "All of your semen belongs to The Sisterhood. Do you understand?" "Yes, ma'am." "Say it, Carl. Promise!" "All of my semen belongs to The Sisterhood and I will never masturbate without the permission of a Sister." "You won't regret this, Carl. The Sisters can make a nice young man feel very loved and wanted. And when we find the right Sister to be your wife you will be prepared to please her in every way possible." Carl's breathing was very shallow but rapid. Those quick short breathes that let Mrs. Swanson know he was on the brink of ejaculation. His eyes were closed and he was panting, he was like putty in her hands and she once again felt the stirring in her pussy that only came out when she exercised her power over a naked man. How many times had she done this? Too many to count but watching a penis as she teased it never failed to make her wet. "It's almost time, Carl. I must put on my apron first. You wouldn't want to soil my nice blouse now would you?" "Oh, no, ma'am, please. Please! Make me spurt for you!" Carl was desperate. Mrs. Swanson put on a white apron, the kind worn by cooks and sat down on the edge of her chair. "I want you to place your feet on either side of my legs, Carl. A little closer, dear. When you spurt for me I want to catch it on this apron. We don't want to make a mess now do we?" Carl just moaned. "Would you massage Carl's balls now please, Miss Bridgeway?" "I thought you'd never ask." She giggled as she assumed her position behind Mrs. Swanson's newest recruit. She was always amused at how easily Mrs. Swanson could get a young man to do her bidding. Her warm hand cupped Carl's balls and gently rubbed them. Her free hand rubbed his chest teasing the tiny nipples that were hard as little stones.