The work of mature women and young neighbors

In the days that followed, when my mother told me that Mrs. Reed had called and asked me to do some chores, I was both excited and nervous. Excited because Mrs. Reed usually rewarded my hard work with long, slow masturbations, which would make me ejaculate several quarts (1 gallon = 4 quarts = 4.546 liters); nervous because the "chores" she came up with for me were becoming increasingly unusual, often putting me in embarrassing situations to amuse her. She was quite bored

, and Mrs. Reed certainly was. Her husband made a lot of money but often neglected her, busy with his business. Since becoming a housewife and no longer having to work, something wild had been lurking within her. Mrs. Reed did things that pampered housewives wouldn't even dare to dream of. And yet, there was this one foolish eighteen-year-old neighbor who was always hanging around her.

That eighteen-year-old neighbor was me, often doing silly things that caused a lot of trouble.

The first time she masturbated me was in May. In the days that followed and throughout June, she made me do "housework" several times a week. For example, she and her husband didn't subscribe to the Wall Street Journal, but she wanted to read it, so if I wanted her to touch my body and scratch my testicles with her sexy nails, while also admiring her large breasts, I had to bring her a daily copy.

About 15 households around us subscribed to the paper, so I had to get up at five in the morning, sneak out of the house, and steal the newspaper from households unlikely to suspect me.

My targets varied from day to day so suspicion wouldn't arise quickly.

I was extremely careful, very cautious, because how would I explain what I was doing if I were discovered?

I mean, should I tell people I'm a fetishist or something?

But it was worth it. When I showed up at Mrs. Reed's door with the newspaper, she'd say,

"Oh, that's great, I think I'll read it after I'm done." "After I'm done

" meant my hard, erect penis in my shorts. There was a large leather chair in their living room, and Mrs. Reed would then strip me naked, then take off her own top, going into the bathroom, bare-breasted, to get some lotion or cream. She'd apply this smooth stuff to my penis, and then, oh God, she'd masturbate me. She'd forbidden me from masturbating alone and told me that ejaculating on her breasts wouldn't be punished.

So when she touched me, it wouldn't be long before I was close to orgasm. She'd hold my penis in both hands and slowly slide it up and down—damn slowly, so slowly I worried my penis would burst and spray semen everywhere. Then she would gaze deeply into my eyes and say,

"I can feel your heart pounding, and through your penis, I can feel how much you want to ejaculate. Do you want to ejaculate?"

I would whimper and say yes, and then she would slow down, caressing my testicles with her nails, and then she would say,

"Ejaculate when I'm ready."

I never lasted more than five minutes. She was so sexy and alluring that I couldn't hold back my urge to ejaculate from the moment I saw her. Once, I apologized to her for ejaculating so quickly, and she laughed, kissed me, and said,

"Darling, I'm so glad I can still excite a boy like you! I really enjoy it when you ejaculate so quickly."

If that was true, then she had found a suitable partner for masturbation. I tried to come every day, but when Mr. Reed was home, I could hardly expect to have an affair with his wife. I don't know how I got through those days. My testicles were full of semen, and the thought of this incredibly sexy woman waiting to drain all the energy from my body filled me with extreme excitement.

In the last week of June, as she took the newspaper I'd stolen, ready to shower me with all that pleasure, I asked a question I'd wanted to ask since day one, but hadn't dared to.

"Jackie?"

I said, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Could you, could we, do something different?"

"Different? What do you mean?"

"I mean, not with your hands, okay? I mean, could you use your mouth?

I can't say any more, I'm too scared."

"Do you want oral sex?" she interrupted.

"Hmm, don't you want it?"

She smiled at me.

"Andy, if you want to try oral sex, just ask me and see what I say."

I swallowed. "Would you do it?"

"What's the point of saying it? Do you think I'd give it to you if you didn't ask?"

My mouth went dry.

"Would you give me oral sex?"

She smiled, leaned forward, pulled me close, and gave me a long, deep kiss. Her tongue slowly slipped into my mouth, sliding over my teeth. I opened my mouth, and her tongue entered. I took it in and sucked on it. Mrs. Reed was shirtless, holding me as we kissed. I felt her bare breasts, hot and burning, pressed against my chest. I couldn't help but reach out and touch them. This was what I had always dreamed of. I had never hugged and kissed an older woman like this before. I had always fantasized about holding this sexy beauty in my arms, kissing her, and caressing her large breasts. At this moment, she pulled away.

"No!" she said.

"I've already taken a huge risk. I've lost enough to masturbate you—my husband, my reputation. So I'm having you steal the newspapers so you'll take the same risk. We're even. But we can only do this privately because I'm afraid I can't explain to my husband that I'm masturbating you; it's unethical."

She actually started talking to me about ethics with a straight face.

"Then why are you messing around with me?"

I asked curiously.

Jackie gave a sly look .

"You're a boy with a strong sex drive, and I like playing with you. I'm a bad woman; I shouldn't be doing this."

She paused, staring intently at me as she said,

"If I were to suck your cock, the problem would be even more serious. I don't want our relationship to develop to that point, so you can only satisfy yourself this way."

She sprayed lotion on my cock and started smearing it everywhere.

I was disappointed, but when that warm, pleasurable sensation began to spread from my inner thighs, my bad mood vanished instantly. This time, she didn't suppress my excitement; she tried to make me ejaculate quickly. I was just being teased like that. After a minute, she was thrusting so fast that her large breasts bounced beautifully, which completely overwhelmed me. I began to feel extremely excited. Mrs. Reed gazed deeply at me and said,

"You know, perhaps you could do something for me to earn a blowjob. Are you interested?"

"Yes, yes, yes..."

I screamed as my penis split open, a jet of semen gushing towards the ceiling and onto my chest. I could barely breathe, struggling to calm myself. Mrs. Reed scooped some of the semen into her hand and brought it to her lips. She had never tasted my semen before, and it felt incredibly exciting, yet also somewhat bewildering.

"Oh, oh, oh," she said,

"I want more. I think maybe I can get you to do it for me, to get rid of that thorn in my side."

"What is it?" I asked,

willing to commit murder for her if that was what she was thinking.

"I'll tell you tomorrow,"

she said, cleaning me with a towel.

I went home, my mind filled with only one thought:

the price of her oral sex pleasure might be very high.

The next morning, I almost got caught stealing the newspaper. I chose a house I hadn't stolen from in weeks. As I was stealing the newspaper, the streetlights in the driveway suddenly came on. I guessed they had installed an automatic alarm. The newspaper was thrown towards the house with a bang. As soon as the streetlights came on, I ran. I found a bush and hid behind it when the front door opened. Mr. Clyburn came out, looked around the street, saw nothing, picked up the newspaper, and went back inside. I waited five minutes to make sure he wasn't hiding behind a window watching, and then I escaped from hell. I wandered over to Mr. Peterson's house and took their newspaper. Mr. Peterson was very forgetful, so I figured stealing his newspaper two days in a row wouldn't be too risky.

I took the newspaper to Mrs. Reed's house, expecting her to search me thoroughly with those hands that were always groping their dicks. I was suddenly surprised to find that on the table was that day's *Wall Street Journal*. She lit a cigarette and opened the newspaper.

“Wait a minute,” I asked,

“you’ve already subscribed to this newspaper?”

She nodded.

“Since the last two weeks, yes.”

“Then why did you let me steal them? I almost got caught today!”

“I need to make sure you’re willing to risk it all for me, remember? To keep our little secret, you have to be slick, you have to lie to your parents, sneak around them. You’ve shown you can do it, and that’s good, I think it’s exciting.”

She smiled, putting down her cigarette.

“But now you’re raising the stakes, and so am I. Come with me.”

She took my hand and led me out of the room.

“Look at my flowers, aren’t they beautiful?”

she asked, pointing to a large patch of tulips and marigolds in the distance, God knows what else she’d planted.

“They look fantastic,” I said.

“I love my flowers, and I try to make them look beautiful,” she said.

“You know what you’re doing, because they really do look beautiful.”

They were, but even if they were faded and withered, I would have agreed with her.

“I put so much work into these flowers, but every time I step out of my house I see that…

”

She pointed to the Johnsons’ house across the street. The Johnsons were an elderly couple, at least in their sixties, who spent 40 hours a week tending their lawn, which looked like a golf course. Their yard was overflowing with flowers—vibrant pinks, bright yellows, and deep purples. Mrs. Reed’s flowers were nice, but they couldn’t compare.

“I don’t want my flowers to be inferior. I need you to eliminate this competitor.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want my flowers to be the best,”

she said, gesturing for us to go back inside. She led me to a leather chair and sat me down. She didn’t take off my shorts, but she still slipped her hand between my spread legs.

“That’s your task.”

This didn’t sound fun at all .

“You want me to ruin their flowers?”

“Yes,”

she said in a soft, trembling voice, gently scraping her fingernails against my zipper, making a soft, scraping sound that drove me crazy.

"You want me to chop them up?"

"Oh, no,"

she said, and I was immediately relieved. I didn't have to do that.

"If you do, that old witch will suspect me. She knows how jealous I am of her, and then they'll just have to buy some new flowers to replace them. No, you have to go all the way."

She slid her hand up under my shirt and began to caress my nipples.

"How do you want me to go all the way?"

"Poison them. Pour bleach all over the ground and pollute the soil itself. I want my flowers to be not just the best this year, but forever. Would you do that?"

That was insane. How could I possibly do something like that? The Johnsons had their lights on all night, and they were actually just across the street from us. My parents didn't particularly like the Johnsons, and if I got caught, I was dead. Even with Mrs. Reed stroking my stomach with her fingers, I couldn't see that I was going to do it.

Before I could even speak, Mrs. Reed said,

"Before you answer, let's do it once."

I agreed, and she took my wrist and placed it on my inner thigh.

"Stick out your thumb,"

she commanded, and I did, so it protruded like my penis.

"Now, I'm going to show you that it was worth it."

Saying this, she lowered her head to my thigh and put my thumb in her mouth and began to suck. She moved her head up and down, her thick blonde hair falling around my fist, her lips tightly holding my thumb, her tongue swirling inside. It was so wet and warm that I thought I might scream. It was so incredible; I don't think I even took a breath the whole time she was sucking.

She sat up, staring straight at me, and said,

"Imagine what it would feel like if it weren't your thumb but your penis?"

"Those flowers are history," I said.

"Okay, but they're still there, so I'm not even going to shake your hand, much less masturbate you. What I can tell you is that if a man masturbates alone, and it's you, I'll know. Your semen belongs to me. Once you've done what I asked, I'll give you a piece of cheese you won't believe. Now go home and think carefully about how you can complete that task."

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/168022.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=168022&aspx=1

Previous Page : Betrayal by a beautiful married woman

Next Page : A Spring Breeze Intoxicates Me with a Mature Woman

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

The work of mature women and young neighbors

comment Open a new window to view comments