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Tommy's Naughty Mommy

A cub and a cougar. But who's seducing who?
"They said, 'Yes!'" I told Tom as we tossed our helmets and pads into lockers and walked to the shower room.

To my amazement, my parents had given me the green light to fly to Los Angeles and stay with Tom's family for Thanksgiving. The only hitch, I had to take college admissions tours of UCLA and USC while I was in California.

"No problem," Tom told me. "I'll drive you to East LA and Westwood on Saturday morning. We'll be back in time to watch the Raiders-Bengals game on TV."

Tom and I were "ringers," which is to say we were scholarship students brought in to fill positions on the Varsity Football Team left vacant by graduating Seniors. Tom was the starting Quarterback, I was the Tight-End.

On the flight to LAX Tom managed to flirt with half-a-dozen girls. By the time we landed, he'd made a date with the cute college girl sitting on the aisle across from us.

The woman who greeted us in the lobby was tall and slender, but wearing a demure wool skirt with matching jacket that revealed little of her figure. Her face, except for full, expressive lips, was hidden behind oversized dark glasses.

"I'm Tommy's Mommy," she said with a childish giggle that caused Tom to roll his eyes at me. She took my hand awkwardly, and when I bent down to kiss her the cheek, she pulled away like a startled doe, leaving me pecking at the dry California air.

"Ummmm, I'm Jason," I stuttered, a little confused by her skittishness.

"Oh, yes, Tommy's told me so much about you," she said. Her voice, though not unpleasant, had a high-pitched, little girl tonality to it. "Why don't you call me Maggie," she suggested uncertainly.

"Okay, Maggie, that'd be great," I told her. Maybe I was being hyper-sensitive, but it almost seemed as if Maggie was unsure, perhaps even somewhat wary, of me.

When we got to their house in Los Feliz, the guest room was already made up, and since it was nearly 3:00 AM on my internal clock, I fell asleep straight away.

I awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs and fresh coffee wafting from a tray on my bedside table. As I joined the world of the waking, I saw Maggie standing next to the bed, her eyes focused intently on my mid-section. It took a moment to realize that sometime in the night I'd kicked off the sheets, leaving my morning woody fully exposed.

I almost reached for the sheets to cover up. But I recalled Maggie's awkwardness at the airport. It didn't compute with the way she now seemed transfixed. There was one intriguing possibility. Could Tom's Mom have a secret thing for younger guys?

Sometimes the best action is no action. I closed my eyes and waited to see what might happen. Besides, there was a certain thrill in having an attractive older woman studying my boy-parts which, make no mistake about it, were neither as long as a yardstick, nor as thick as a firehouse.

Sadly, whatever it was that had arrested Maggie's attention, it wasn't my exceptional length or girth.

A couple minutes passed, and the only thing that seemed to change was that the bacon, eggs and coffee had lost their fragrance. I finally took another peek at Maggie through half-closed lids. Her eyes were still fixed squarely on my cock with her brows furrowed in concentration. The only thing different from earlier was that she now seemed to be biting her lower lip.

As I closed my eyes, my cock twitched with a little jolt of excitement. There was no doubt about one thing, Maggie had truly sexy lips.

It's amazing how difficult it is to remain quiet when you actually try. Even more so when there's an erection involved. Each time my mind wandered back to Maggie's lips--her full, sensual and inviting lips--a fresh tremble of excitement radiated through me, causing my cock to swing like a metronome. That, in turn, produced an audible little hitch in Maggie's breathing, to which something inside me responded by ratcheting up the sexual tension to yet another notch.

My arousal had become a vicious cycle with a completely predictable outcome. I now had an uncontrollable itch, and sooner or later, I was going to have to scratch it.

I suppose there's really no subtle way to jerk off when your best friend's Mom is watching from four feet away. But I gave it a try.

Still, when I discretely wrapped my thumb and forefinger around the base of my shaft, that little hitch in Maggie's breathing that I mentioned, became a full-fledged gasp. At this point, I didn't dare peek at Maggie's reaction, so I did what I had to do, and let my fingers glide up and down my cock as slowly as possible. The first couple of strokes were accompanied by an involuntary sigh of relief as my rampant cock felt momentarily calmed by my own caress.

"Hey, Mom!" I heard Tom's muffled call from somewhere in the house. "Can I use the car?"

There was only the soft swish of fabric as Maggie moved with feline stealth, closing the door so gently that all there was to let me know she had left the room was the faint click of the latch. A few moments later, I heard Maggie and Tom's voices, low and muffled, from downstairs.

The coast was clear, and I could now finish what I had started. Except, that with Maggie gone, it wasn't nearly as exciting. The urgency I felt just seconds ago was slowly receding. Instead of rushing to climax, I waited and listened.

I heard a car start up and pull out of the driveway as Tom took off on some errand, or maybe to meet the little blond from our flight to LAX. The intense sexual edge was clearly gone, although my erection had yet to flag. The mere possibility that Maggie might return was enough to keep me hard.

It wasn't long before I heard the door latch click and felt a faint rush of cool air as Maggie slipped back into the room. I hadn't moved my hand, which was still gripping my shaft.

Suddenly, the dynamics had radically altered. Before Tom's interruption, Maggie's voyeurism could have been explained as an innocent accident. Her return changed everything. With my eyes still closed, I give my cock a couple of energetic strokes, then turned my head and whispered, "Maggie, do you want to watch?"

I thought she might be shocked, or at least pretend to be. But when Maggie's eyes met mine, I could see a desperate hunger, like an addict in need of a fix.

"I shouldn't," she said in new voice that was both deeper and more womanly. "What if Tom found out?"

"Tom will never know," I assured her. "You'd be amazed how good I am at keeping secrets."

"You promise, Jason. You'll never tell him, no matter what."

"I swear, Maggie."

"I believe you," she said with a deep sigh. With that, her body seemed to relax, and I noticed for the first time that she was wearing tight jeans that showed her hips and thighs to good advantage, as well as a simple black t-shirt, through which I could clearly see the curve of her breasts.

"Sit down," I said, tapping the edge of the bed and scrunching over to make room while throwing the sheets completely off my legs. Maggie accepted my invitation, but placed herself at the foot of the bed, perhaps out of my reach, but also directly in my line of sight.

"You knew I was watching earlier, didn't you?" she asked.

"Yes, I knew."

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I was just bringing you breakfast in bed. I always did that for Tom on weekends and holidays when he didn't have school or practice."

"I know," I said, my fingers were slowly working their way up and down my shaft and Maggie's gaze followed them intently.

"God, Jason," she said with genuine anguish. "I shouldn't be here."

"But you are here," I said, stroking myself openly for her. "And you need it… just as much as you need air and water and warm sunlight on your skin."

"So, true!" She looked at me in surprise. "What makes you so wise?"

"Laura," I said.

"A girlfriend?"

"A woman friend. A lover. I'm not as innocent as you think."

With that, I reached down and caught Maggie under the arms. I was amazed at how light she felt as I lifted her off the bed and pulled her on top of me until our lips were within inches of each other, and my cock was trapped against her stomach.

"You wanted to kiss me last night, didn't you?" I asked.

"Yes," she moaned, pausing a moment. "But I wanted so more than a little peck on the check. I was afraid you sensed it, and that Tom might pick up on it too. I acted pretty silly, didn't I?"

"A little," I said looking deeply into her longing eyes. "But I don't get the big deal. I'm just another one of Tom's friends."

"A friend, but hardly just 'another' one," she smiled down at me, I looked blankly back at her. "You really don't get it do you?"

"I guess not."

"How long have you been lifting weights?"

"Five years."

"So look at yourself now. You have the kind of chiseled physique most grown women I know would die for," she sighed.

"But then there're those rosy red cheeks, the unblemished skin and innocent blue eyes. Oh, My, God," Maggie whispered, tracing her fingertips across my chin and down my throat. "We could kiss all night and I'd never get stubble burn."

Then our lips met and I knew from the way Maggie's tongue forced it way between my lips, that she was not about to hold herself back. When we finally came up for air, Maggie rolled off me, exposing my cock again.

"Do you mind if I look a little longer?" she asked. "You must think I'm a terrible pervert, but I just adore watching your body."

"No, not at all," I told her. "Sometimes, well, I actually enjoy being watched."

"Really?" Maggie sounded surprised. "I thought young guys were all shy and self-conscious." I followed her eyes to my cock, which was once again throbbing with excitement.

"I suppose," I told her. "But I don't mind. Actually, it's kind of arousing."

"Yes," she agreed, almost dreamily. "It is."

When I looked down, I saw a tiny drop of clear liquid sitting on the tip. My balls were beginning to ache, my cock was tingling and it was all I could do to keep from grabbing it.

"Do you want to touch yourself again?" Maggie asked, as if reading my mind.

"Yes," I admitted. "I do."

I felt her lean closer, and thought she might be reaching down to touch me. But instead, she whispered softly in my ear, "Go ahead, Jason. I'd like to watch."

"OK," I sighed, and let the fingers of my right hand drift down my chest and over my stomach and abs. My body shivered as they brushed against my public hair. Then caressed the full length of my cock shaft with the back of hand.

Maggie sighed, as if she had somehow shared the same tingling sensation that was coursing through my cock and balls.

The drop of liquid rolled off the tip and left a glistening trail along the smooth skin of my cock head. I caressed the shaft with my fingernails while I studied the way Maggie's pulse beat in the hollow of her throat. I wasn't the only one finding this exquisitely erotic.

"Is that how you like to touch yourself?"

"Sometimes, at least at first," I told her, noticing her stiff nipples were now pressing against the fabric of her t-shirt.

"When I get more excited, I like to do it this way," I said, turning my hand over and letting the tip of my index finger trace a path along the shaft and over the little ridge along the base of my cock head. This time, it responded by bouncing up and down.

"Oh, Jason!" she whispered, more to herself than to me. "I'd just about forgotten how beautiful a hard penis can be."

Another drop of liquid had oozed onto the tip. Maggie watched with an almost hypnotic fascination while my fingertip danced up and down the shaft.

"Maggie?" I asked, bringing my hand to stop. "Will you squeeze your nipples for me?"

She brought her eyes up to mine, then looked down at the front of her t-shirt. Without uttering a word, she began to gently roll each nipple between her fingers.

"Like this?"

"Yes, like that?"

"Jason," she whispered. "Show me how else you like to touch yourself?"

"OK," I said, pulling myself into a sitting position to make more room on the bed. "But first, will you take off your jeans?"

"I don't know…" Maggie hesitated. Before she could continue, I reached over and placed my finger on her lips. She swirled her tongue across my fingertip, savored the taste, then smiled.

"Then again, maybe I do," she said, lowering her zipper. It took a little effort for Maggie to lift her hips and wiggle the tight jeans down over them, but when she succeeded, a pair of powder blue panties came into view.

Maggie's legs were tan and smooth with delicate thighs and perfectly turned calves. She sat down opposite me on the bed, our knees touching, and her swollen pussy lips pressing firmly against the blue satin fabric. Even on the soft mattress, Maggie had beautiful posture, her back bolt upright, as if riding a horse.

Almost instinctively, her fingers went back to touching her nipples through her t-shirt. After a brief squeeze or two, she paused. "I might as well take off this off as well."

My cock answered for me, nodding up and down in agreement.

Maggie grabbed the hem and gradually lifted it over her abs and stomach. She obviously worked hard to keep herself in shape, and I gave an appreciative whistle at her narrow waist and firm, round breasts. The only imperfection was a long, thin surgical scar across her lower abdomen and a few faint stretch marks in the creamy white skin around her areola and nipples.

As I feasted on Maggie's charms, I stroked my cock a little more vigorously.

"Tell me about Laura," Maggie asked out of the blue. "What did you like most about her?"

"Everything," I said honestly. "Her touch, her taste, her kisses… " I saw a dreamy look come across Maggie's face as her long and sensuous fingers played with her nipples. "How did you… get together?"

"One night I noticed her watching me from her window while I was working out. I undressed for her, then she took off her blouse and panties while I watched." I had slowed my stroking and instead caressed my cock very slowly. Maggie followed every move with her eyes.

"What did she look like?" Maggie wanted know.

"Laura had a thin, girlish figure. Her hair was thick and shiny and she usually wore it hanging straight to her shoulders with bangs like a teenager. But she could surprise me by putting it up into a bun with brunette tendrils that framed her face and her pale-blue bedroom eyes."

"Bedroom eyes?"

"Most of the time Laura had this intense look. But when she was aroused, it was different. Her lids would get heavy, as if she were only half-awake and maybe a little unfocused."

Maggie's owns eyes were looking as if she were drifting into some sexual trance. She was fascinated by my cock, no doubt about that. But my description of Laura seemed to tease her as well. "Tell me about her breasts?"

"Laura's tits were tiny, but just looking at them always made my mouth water," I continued. "They had puffy areola and the longest nipples I've ever seen. I could suck her entire tit into my mouth and flutter my tongue against her nip. Or just suck on the nip itself like it was a little penis."

"Oh!" Maggie exclaimed. Apparently shocked, but also excited by my description. A small, dark stain was forming on the gusset of her panties. "And her kitty?" Maggie whispered.

"Her pussy was tiny, with delicate pink lips. The second time we spent the night together, I walked into her kitchen, knelt in front of her, unzipped her jeans and pulled them down, and started sucking on each of her pussy lips until she was writhing on the floor. She was so tight it was always a struggle to get my tongue, or my cock, inside her. But once I did, the sensation was so intense I never wanted to leave."

Maggie was no longer watching me play with my cock. Rather, her eyes were tightly closed as she concentrated on my words. Her right hand had strayed between her legs on the outside of her panties, where her fingers gently rolled her pussy lips together with a slow, rhythmical motion.

The bacon, eggs and coffee were still untouched on my bedside. But I detected a new fragrance in the air, the unmistakable musk of feminine sexual arousal. I had held my lust in check while Maggie and I had toyed and teased, but her scent was too much for me. Before I was fully aware of what I was doing, my hands had seized her hips and lifted her off the bed and in a single fluid motion, I pulled her panties past her knees and dove between her legs.

An instant later, my tongue unfolded her swollen pussy lips and Maggie squealed in surprise. I now had her ass cheeks firmly in my grip, and there was no was way she could pull her vagina away even if she wanted to. Which she didn't.

Instead, Maggie grabbed the back of my head and pulled me even more tightly into the gap between her legs. For a moment I could hear her breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. Then her thighs clamped down on the sides of my head and all I could hear was the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

Somehow, Maggie repositioned herself so that just when my tongue located her clitoris, her wet lips engulfed my cock. I fluttered my tongue over her clit, probed her vagina, and licked her pussy lips while Maggie sucked me deep inside her wanting mouth.

We began with frenzied enthusiasm, but soon subsided into a more gentle ebb and flow. Maggie's muscles relaxed and she accepted my slow tongue probing without hesitation. For all the time she had spend studying me, it seemed only fair that I drink in the details of her sweet pussy, which was open before me like the petals of an exotic orchid.

Her pubic hair was dark blond, neatly trimmed and pointed toward a pair of surprisingly small and delicate outer lips. Her lips, and the area around them, were puffy, pink and swollen. Maggie's nectar was tangy and full-bodied, with just a hint of sweetness.

Although I'd only been sexually active a couple of years, I already fancied myself a connoisseur of pussy aromatics and aerodynamics. Fucking, I'd concluded, was mostly passion, and it was best left to primal instinct. But pussy worship was less about going with the flow, and more about practiced technique.

Maybe it's that I'm more sensitive to pheromones than most guys, but there's nothing more genuinely awesome to me than than musky scent and swollen lips at the core of a woman's sexuality. Girls closer to my own age seemed to have a lighter, somewhat sweeter smell and taste. But they are also more nervous about the truly intimate contact of having their vagina licked and savored.

With girls my age, I learned it's important to start with the inner thighs and devote great attention to the outer lips. Diving in for direct clitoral stimulation, at least at the start, is usually not a good thing. And even when flying low and slow, it often takes plenty of coaching and reassurance before most girls relax and fully enjoy the delicate dance of oral sex.

At thirty seven, Laura, in contrast, knew exactly what she wanted, and was not hesitant to tell me. Sucking and fluttering her clit would get us to the Red Zone, but to score that elusive touchdown, Laura needed something inside her. For that final surge, I would bury my tongue in her vagina as far as it would reach, and roll her clit under my thumb while using my other hand hand to pin her frantically bucking hips to my mouth. We called it the Tight-End slant, and it never failed us.

It didn't take long for the same play to produce equally satisfying results with Maggie, although I'd overlooked one thing. Maggie had my cock buried deep in her mouth, and instead of translating her growing urgency into frenzied hip thrusts, she began deep throating me with a furious intensity.

It's a good thing Tom had, indeed, driven to West LA to visit the girl from our flight, because the instant Maggie's uterus contracted around my tongue, to my complete surprise, I was overtaken by one most powerful orgasms of my young life. Maggie moaned in pleasure as my sperm pumped endlessly onto her tongue and she swallowed repeatedly to keep up with the flood. The sound that came from within me began as a deep, animalistic groan, and ended as a howl that would have brought Tom running had he been anywhere in the house.

After that, we made slow, sensual love with Maggie guiding me through a virtual Kama Sutra of postures and positions. Our first copulation ended with Maggie in what I now know is called Downward Dog, with me fucking her from behind. We finished the second, and last, with me on my back, and Maggie riding cowgirl style with my hands on her hips and her back beautifully arched as the last, gentle orgasm overrode us both.

Afterward, Maggie rested in my arms, her head on my chest and at that moment, I would have been content to never leave LA again as long as Maggie was by my side.

Tom returned briefly for Thanksgiving Dinner, then vanished once more to be with his new girlfriend, which pretty much gave Maggie and I the rest of the holiday weekend to explore each other's bodies with uninhibited enthusiasm. I did make it to the UCLA and USC admissions tours, but it was Maggie who drove me. And it was Maggie who watched the Raiders-Bengal game with me on Saturday afternoon, although how much watching either of us actually did is debatable.

On the flight back to school, Tom apologized so profusely for leaving me with his Mom all weekend that I actually began feeling a little guilty. When his attention finally turned to chatting up the girls in the row behind us, I pushed my seat back and closed my eyes in hopes of catching up on the only thing I missed out on during my Thanksgiving with Tommy's Mommy.

A few hours of sleep.

Postscript: Totally and unabashedly inspired by VanGogh, whose "Secretary" series is among the finest eroticism I've come across this side of Anais Nin.

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