A matter of perspective - Sex Stories

A matter of perspective

It was a hot summer day as Jack accompanied his mother on the country outing her office had arranged. After a ride of forty-five minutes into the hills west of the city, they had reached a park built around an old ranch. Any number of activities could be done, all of them boring to a young man like Jack back from his first year of grad school, but his mother had insisted he come. Finding the thought of yet another day reading more tedious than he could bear, he agreed readily enough, and the thought of a long walk in the woods on the neighboring hill was pleasing enough. They arrived half an hour before lunch would be served; his mother’s office had arranged for a large barbecue feast, and they sat with two of his mother’s friends at work, each a woman in her forties or fiftees, each with a grown son or daughter in tow. Allie, the plump and eager friend of his mother’s, smiled at him a few times but avoided letting him get her alone. He thought back to the night his parents had thrown to celebrate his college graduation. Before the party she had come into his room to congratulate him. She hugged him and had smiled wickedly up at him when she felt his raging erection and said, “Ooh, you’re all grown up!” He had pulled her into his closet and she had let him kiss her and play with her breasts as she undid his zipper and quickly drained him onto the wall. He reached down towards her crotch and she had said, “Not now.” They had made a date for a motel the next night and she had ...

... let him drain his seed in her three times; he still often remembered her receptive body underneath him as he plunged in and out in ecstasy, coming each time in less than five minutes, and how before the last time she had said in amazement, “You want to fuck me again ?” After he finished, limp and drained on her belly, she had pushed him off and led his hand down to her blonde-haired pussy and made him rub her until she had come. “You really do need lessons,” she had said, and gave him those lessons in three more sessions over the next month. Now, a year later, she acted as if all of that had never happened; Jack figured this was due to the presence of her son. He sighed and paid more attention to the other people around him. His mother’s other friend at the table, Christine, was a fat, strongly Baptist woman who had never warmed to him, but her daughter Janet was an unknown quantity. She had shoulder-length chestnut hair pulled up in a ponytail in back and with bangs in front, and wore a sleeveless blue cotton summer dress that appealingly covered a slender body. Her brown eyes were fairly bored much of the time, but when she got up after lunch to wash up, Jack followed her and noticed that when she was away from her mother she walked with a spring in her step and a vibrant swing of the hips that suggested thoughts to him he was sure her mother would veto in an instant scowl. As she poured herself a glass of iced tea, Jack came up next to her and introduced himself. “Yes,” she ...