Heather Brown: Mom_s boy hunger

All of a sudden I was the orgasming recipient of a sperm-enema. The spunk tore into my colon, displacing the crap and making me joyously bloated. My climactic response was even greater than it had been the two times Buzz had irrigated my pussy.

Of course I couldn't hold it all. Just as in an enema, the hot, frothy liquid eventually came pouring out with as much force as it had entered me. Suddenly I was spraying Buzz's gruel all over the bed, climactically voiding my bowels.

The bedding was a mess. While we writhed and twisted, we literally sloshed in the outpouring that had drenched everything beneath us. The room reeked of sex.

Buzz had come three times within mere minutes. Oh, these teenage boys, they were everything popular mythology purported them to be.

Needless to say, I was burning with desire to see if he could accomplish a fourth outpouring.

And what better way to find out than to offer him a fresh hole? My mouth.

Pulling his still dribbling tool from my ass, I begged Buzz to fuck me in my face. "I'll swallow every drop if you can come again," I promised him.

He fell across my head, his pubic hair scratching my eyes and nose. Wrapping around his turgid shaft, my tongue drew him into nip oral cavity, sucking in inch after inch of phallic hardness.

This was my first real taste of his cock. I'd briefly kissed it before, but this was the first time I'd had the whole thing inside my mouth. The taste made me giddy.

I wanted Buzz to literally fuck me in the mouth, and he did. Laying his loins across my face, he slammed his pelvis into my face, while the head of his prick probed the depths of my spasming esophagus. I loved it!

I squeezed his balls before, so now I put my fingers to work on an even more stimulating task. Sliding them up the sweaty crack of his ass, I found his anus and quickly penetrated it with two hooked digits. His prostate was there waiting for me, a throbbing lump at the bottom of his shit-pit that begged to be kneaded.

I had never done any of this before. My husband was always too much in a hurry to get his chauvinist rocks off for me to take the time to blow him, let alone fingerfuck his ass. I had never dared try anything out of the ordinary with Ted for fear that he would be furious. Jesus, no wonder I was so sexually frustrated.

Buzz and I were breaking ourselves in together in the fascinating byways of lovemaking. I had learned what I had always suspected: that there's more to lovemaking than just getting it over with. And my teenage lover was learning that an alder woman has as much or more to offer in the sack than those stuck-up cheerleaders he'd probably been wasting his time fantasizing over.

He fucked my mouth deeper and deeper, harder and harder. I'd have a sore throat for a week. Every time I coughed from the soreness, I'd think of Buzz.

My fingers in his ass had been a forked eagle's talon all along-now they became the twin prongs of a gaffing hook. I was digging down into Buzz's anal meat as though I were trying to pull his prostate gland from his body. Imagine the manufacture of blessed sperm this must have engendered.

He was moaning and groaning.. Then he began Snorting like an enraged dragon. Buzz was practically breathing fire, he was so hot.

Incredibly, his cock grew. Now it wasn't just in my throat, but extending into my abdominal entrance.

I was enough of a woman to know what this meant-coming. My teenaged lover was on the brink of a fourth ejaculation.

And this time I would literally feast on the results!

I pulled my fingers from his ass as though I were extracting the cork from a bottle of warm champagne. There was a loud pop. A cascade ensued.

Cum poured into my stomach; quenching the thirst I had harbored for so long. I had imagined what the male elixir tasted like for so long-but I had never anticipated anything so intoxicating. Had I been an alcoholic, I could have cured myself of the addiction to alcohol by switching to sperm.

There had been too much jizz for my cunt and ass to hold. But not my mouth. I retained every drop. of the wonderful stuff, sucking it all down like I had a vacuum cleaner imbedded in my stomach.

"Four times," I added up the score when Buzz finally withdrew from my face. "You came in me four times. You can mow my lawn anytime you want to, stud."

A little background.

I was your typical housewife. You know, the traditional bored variety.

I had everything a woman is supposed to have to be happy. A nice house in the suburbs. A hard-working husband. Two healthy children.. A stationwagon in the garage for my own use. A generous household allowance.

And, of course, I was thoroughly miserable.

I wanted to fly, not have my feet planted firmly on the ground. And the new permissiveness of the 1970's had not made my life any easier.

I would watch these talk shows. You know, the ones with Masters amp; Johnson and Xaviera Hollander on them, and think. Is this all there is? There's something missing in my life.

For all our prosperity, my life was devoid of excitement. When all was said and done, I was just a glorified maid. The sum-total of my existence was wrapped up in cleaning and cooking and meeting the demands of other people.

What about me? What about Betty?

I'd had such romantic dreams when I'd married. I'd been certain that Ted was my Prince Charming. That we would always be blissfully happy.

But living happily ever after just occurs in fairy tales, as I'd ruefully learned. Life is a struggle, even for a member of the American middle-class.

Especially a female member.

Your kids, your husband-they've all got the outside world to go to. But a housewife? She's stuck.

The home is like a prison. More and more lately, my goal had been to break out.

But how?

For all my complaining, I still loved my husband and kids. The last thing I would ever do was abandon them. Somebody had to take care of them, and that was my job.

If there was only some way I could still be a wife and mother and get my kicks at the same time. Some way for me to achieve inner fulfillment as a woman, while still caring for my family.

I was sitting around thinking about this after Buzz had left. There was a ton of laundry to be done, floors to be waxed, and grocery shopping to be done, but my sanity was at stake. And something told me that the answer to my dilemma might be wrapped up in my adventure with the teenage gardener.

My interlude with Buzz had.. been unique because, while it was happening, I had actually been spiritually and emotionally transported away from my daily drudgery. I had always assumed that if I ever had an affair I would be consumed by guilt. On the contrary, however, I felt especially good about what I had done.

In fact, if the truth were known, I couldn't wait to try it again.

Maybe, I dared to think, this is the answer. Fooling around. After all, hadn't I seen so-called experts on television talk shows maintaining that extramarital sex could sometimes help a stagnant marriage? I hadn't believed them up until now, but maybe…

I mean, no marriage was more stagnant than Ted's and mine.

And I had to admit, Buzz had made me feel fantastic. What could possibly be wrong with that? With feeling good for a change?

Then, as I sat there pondering my situation, it began to dawn on me. If I had the courage to go and follow my instincts, there was a way out of my domestic prison. And, best of all, I didn't even have to physically leave it. I could still do the cooking, cleaning, and all the rest of it, and he happy besides.

"A secret life," I whispered the logical alternative in awe. "Nobody will know but me. Nobody will be hurt."

I quickly convinced myself that it could only help the family. If I was happier, then it only stood to reason that Ted and the kids would be happier. And, who knew: my sex life with my husband might even improve.