Peter Jensen - Mother_s new boarder

Yes, it was too bad that Gloria wasn't a virginal, naturally reluctant woman – but then, once a woman had let her passion overcome her inclinations, she never was. And it was too bad that Gloria didn't like King. As David Preston had told her: love me, love my dog…

But at that moment, fired with the building heat of his loins, his penis and testicles swollen and painful with arousal that wanted to burst the confines of his clothes and spew orgasmically into the hungry, wet tunnel of Gloria's hotly sticking vagina, he didn't care about her drawbacks. He reached for the button and zipper on her shorts, but she stopped him.

"The bedroom, Davy-boy. Let's try out your new mattress, hmmm? Let's throw our own, private little housewarming party. Just you and me and that lovely big cock of yours…"

They entered the bedroom and Preston took his shirt and threw it on the room's single chair and Gloria slid her blouse off, using her palms, and rotating her loins salaciously as she inched the tight shorts down along her long, curvaceous legs until they lay puddled at her now shoe-less feet. Her eyes were heavily lidded and smoky, and she watched his face intensely as she undressed, reaching behind her and unhooking her bra, pulling the sheer, white cups away from her firm breasts slowly, making sure that the aroused, berry-sized nipples were the last to meet his hot, flickering gaze. She dropped the bra on her shorts and then raised her hands to mold her full, rich mounds, kneading them the way he would be doing soon.

"You're slow, Davy-boy," she whispered. "Take off your pants and let me see that hard cock of yours."

"Christ, you fucking whore!" Preston exploded with an evil grin. Gloria reveled in his lustful words and leering, hot eyes for a long moment, and then she stepped over to the bed and pulled the coverlet down to lie on the blankets and spread her legs wide in a wanton, provoking position, exposing to his eyes the total expanse of her wet cuntal slit. She rotated her hips lasciviously, arching them up and down in a measured, intoxicating way. Preston threw his pants across the room and stood over the bed with his great, trembling penis standing from his groin in full erection, the unseeing eyes of its glans oozing thin clear droplets of lubrication. And Gloria stared at his rod-hard cock, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue as if tasting the seeping fluid already, as if it was deliciously swirling around in the warm, sucking cavern of her mouth.

"Come on," she urged heatedly, "lie down beside me, Davy-boy and see what happens next."

"What?"

"I'm going to take that big cock of yours and suck it dry, suck every drop of hot cum right out of it."

Shit! Preston thought, she can really turn me on. His prick throbbed as he sat down beside her, and she snaked out her hand and encircled his cock, beginning to stroke it up and down and massage its turgid length, rubbing the shaft and cradling her hand underneath his testicles slightly, caressing them softly, like precious jewels in her palm. He groaned with the pleasure of her touch, and lay down, stretching out lengthwise alongside her palpitating, hot flesh, letting her manipulate his cock with expertise until he thought it would shoot off all by itself, without ever letting her suck it.

She rose up in a kneeling position, her tongue still flicking along her lips, her eyes resting feverishly on his loins, and then she began to trail soft, moist kisses across the girth of his large, well-muscled belly, making him groan uncontrollably again and raise his hips upwards from the stimulations she was sending through his body. Her fingernails scratched lightly over his cock now and then they reached downwards, probing briefly at the puckered ring of his anus, retracing their path back to his straining, quivering penis.

"Goddamn it, Gloria, suck it! Suck it before it goes off by itself!" He thrust upwards, his head lifted so that he could look down at her lust contorted features as her beautiful face was poised over his blunt cock-head, and he could feel his semen boiling in his testicles, and knew it wouldn't be long before it would come spewing out of his shaft like a flow of molten lava. "Hurry, hurry!" he begged. "Suck it, baby, suck it!"

In obeisance, the woman plunged her head downwards, and Preston felt the incredible, hot moist softness of her lips close over the sensitive flesh of his cock, felt her firebrand tongue lick circles of liquid flame around and around it, flicking into the glans opening and swallowing the beginning drops of his seminal fluid. He entangled his grasping hands in her blonde hair tightly, and guided her as he jerked upwards, and he drove the entire length of his massive penis deep into the warm, butter-smooth folds of her mouth, feeling his cockhead graze against the back of her throat.

"Mmmmmmm!" she mewled around his hardened rod of flesh.

"Ahhhhhh!" he cried out in lust-crazed agreement. "That's it, baby! Stroke a little, too! That's it! That's it! Run your fingers along my balls… easy, damnit! Ahhhhh!"

And through the paper-thin walls, in the bedroom next door, Mrs. Marleen Franklin sat up in her bed, listening. She was recoiled in abject revulsion, her breath catching in her throat, for she couldn't believe what she had been hearing. Dear God, this new tenant, this David Preston, was forcing a woman to perform the debasing act of… of… she couldn't bring herself to mentally say the word! It was a perversion, an act which only filthy old men and whores engaged in! What kind of man had she allowed to rent the apartment!

She sunk back on the covers, a disappointed and thoroughly confused woman…

Wendy Franklin was very close to her mother. With her father dead for many years, the two of them could have split apart, as so often and tragically happens, but her mother had always been fair and understanding, directing without being domineering, and above all, loving.

And Wendy loved her mother deeply in return. Her mother might be old and no longer interested in men, for example, but she had once been young and knew what it was like to be Wendy's age. She allowed her to go out on dates and lots of other things without a bunch of silly regulations some of the other mothers placed on their kids – like being home from a school prom at midnight, and not allowing the girls to go on anything but double dates. Her mother had always insisted that the mark of maturity was trust, and so she made sure that her daughter was instilled with the proper ethics and morals and then trusted her to do the right thing. She never tried to cling to her growing child, nor constantly think in terms of her as her "baby", and was more than pleased when Wendy was interested in the ways and morals of sex and reproduction, of explaining the mysteries of monthly cycles when Wendy had first begun to menstruate when she was eleven, went out of her way to buy training bras and then larger ones as Wendy developed.

There was no false prudery between them; they'd seen each other naked, and had once even taken a shower together, but again, her mother was a modest woman, and taught Wendy the healthy outlook to like her body and hold it ready in pride for a man she loved to take. And in the course of dating and going steady, Wendy had been aroused to seething, panting excitement by a boy's touches and kisses, been driven to almost the point of total abandonment by her sexual instincts, which were alive and always seemed just below her surface. But that was the difference: almost. Her mother's love and trust and honor had always stuck somehow, and Wendy Franklin was still a virgin, unlike most of her class-mates, vowing to save her cherished gift of sex for the right man – the man she would love and who would love her enough in return to slip a gold ring on her finger first. Sometimes, after a long drive-in movie or heavy petting up in the woods in a car, it took everything she held dear for her to stop, to fight off her urges and the boy and will herself back to calmness so that she could control her passions.