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All Sexual Activity In This Story Is Between Characters 18+ Years Of Age
Fred Dawes pushed his hand mower up the incline and grinned. His calves and hamstrings stung while the clacking steel reel sung to him and arced green grass blades between his driving legs. “Coach was sure right about this job,” he thought. “It’s a great workout. I bet I’ll be outrunning and jumping all the other guys when I get to Notre Dame!” Although it was only 9:45, the morning sun was already asserting itself. The eighteen-year-old graduating basketball player’s broad back glistened with sweat as he bent over the mower handle.
At the top of the knoll he stopped, turned around and surveyed his work, so far. To his left, down the slope, the freshly painted Lakeside Park bandstand and gazebo gleamed snow-white beneath its new gilded cupola. The expanse of just-mown lawn below and to his right spanned a half-acre toward the car park. He was about to start the next patch of grass when he saw a woman, with two children trailing, walking down the path toward the lakeshore boathouse.
Even at a distance, Fred could see the young mother was pretty. The sun added a halo effect to her flaxen hair, which, like her blue dress, blew about her, as random zephyrs rose from the lake. He did not mean to stare, but he must have done, for a time, because she veered from her course and walked toward him, waving her hand. The boy and girl hurried to the shore and set about skipping stones across the water.
Mary Trotter approached Dawes with a warm smile and said, “Hello! Is the park OPEN? The gates weren’t shut, but there’s only one other car, and an old pick-up truck, in the lot. When we walked in, we didn’t see ANY other people.” She cast her outstretched right arm in a sweeping arc. “Except for YOU, of course!” Her light laugh charmed Fred, who was already captivated by her full bosom and hour-glass figure.
“Huhn?” Dawes mentally kicked himself for his dull response. “Um, sure, the park opened for the season last Sunday, on Mothers Day, just like every year.” He, too, scanned the deserted horizon and speculated, “It’ll pick up in the next few days and then be gangbusters until Labor Day, I expect.” Mary was struck by the odd combination of shyness and confidence in his voice and smile as he continued, “The Dodge roadster is mine and the pick-up belongs to the county.”
“Oh, OK then,” she replied. Suddenly recognizing the boy, Mary announced, “Say! Aren’t you Fred Dawes? The ice-man’s son? I’m Mrs. Trotter… on Garvey Avenue. You used to help your dad with the deliveries when you were younger. My GOODNESS! You have certainly grown into a strapping young man!”
Mary cast her eyes slowly over Fred’s perspiring athletic physique and spare apparel. He wore a pair of cobalt blue George Washington High School basketball shorts, with ‘No. 14’ embroidered in white thread on the left leg. A pair of grass-sprinkled gray wool socks, rolled down over the tops of his sturdy leather work boots, completed the visible ensemble. Every one of his many man-sized muscles bulged. Mary also notice a significant manly bulge in his shorts. She unconsciously ran the pink tip of her tongue over her dark cherry lipstick.
Embarrassed, Fred bowed his crew-cut head and scuffed his right boot toe against his left instep. “Yeah, that’s me… but when Dad got his truck he didn’t need me to hold Smitty’s reins, anymore.” Raising his head, he beamed at Mary, appreciating, up close, how the row of four white buttons rose to a peak, then fell sharply away, as they crossed the crest of her ample bust. “My sophomore Geometry teacher was Mr. Trotter. Is he your… uh, HUSBAND?”
Just then Arthur and Cecilia ran up and pulled the pleats of Mary’s cotton dress. “Mother,” Arthur blurted, “aren’t we going to get a rowboat?”
“Yes,” Mary answered, distractedly, while she looked at Fred and quieted the excited children with a firm hand on their shoulders. “And THIS rude little boy, is Mr. Trotter’s son, Arthur.” Hugging Cecilia to her hip, Mary continued, “While this sweet thing HERE, is my young sister, Cecie.” She pushed the playmates forward and said, “Say ‘hello’ to Mr. Dawes, kids, then run down to the boathouse and wait for me. I’ll be right along.”
As the nine-year-olds ran laughing back to the lake, Mary’s and Fred’s eyes, which had yet to break contact, built an electric bridge. A jolt jumped through Mary’s chest and landed in her stomach. She felt her cunny moisten. Fred, uncomfortably warm under his skin, turned abruptly to his lawn mower and hoped the urges he felt in his groin would recede without obvious effect.
“Mmmmm,” Mary murmured to his slick tapered back. “Well, I better get Arthur and Cecie out on the water, Fred. I didn’t mean to disturb your… um, work.”
Dawes cleared his throat, but his response was still a mumble. “That’s OK, Mrs. Trotter.” He peered down at his crotch, grateful that his jock-strap restrained his aggravated prick, at least istanbul escort to some degree. “But, the guy who works the boat dock concession called in sick, today. You want me to go down… and, you know… help you get off?”
Mary thought that was a wonderful idea. “Yes, alright,” she said, swallowing a rising lump. “That’s very sweet of you.”
At the boat dock, Art and Cecie were prancing back and forth, arguing indecisively about which of the four identical craft was the one they wanted. Mary held her open hands helplessly out at her sides, grimaced and rolled her eyes. Fred rescued her by stepping between the two kids. Pointing at the bow moored to the third wooden bollard, he said authoritatively, “Number Two, here, is the FASTEST and SMOOTHEST boat we have. Why don’t you hop in IT? I’ll set you up.”
Dawes held the boat steady to the dock as the children climbed in. While he went into the boathouse for a pair of oars and oarlocks, Mary offered a maternal briefing. “You BOTH get to row, so don’t ARGUE. Sit still and stay within three boat lengths of the shore at all times.” She smiled and added, “AND, no matter how much FUN you’re having… head back in no later than two o’clock!”
Directing herself to Cecilia, Mary said, “YOU’RE the timekeeper, Cecie.” Then turning to Art, she said, “YOU’RE the guardian, Arthur. If you need any help at all, blow your camp whistle, OK? It’ll carry across the water.”
Cecie looked at the Hamilton watch her sister had given her for Christmas. Arthur pulled a shiny brass whistle from his shirt pocket and showed his mother he had it. Cecilia raised her face toward Mary and asked, “But, aren’t YOU coming, too?”
Mary squeezed her thighs against her damp cunny and said silently, “Don’t worry about me coming.” Out loud, however, she answered with a small headshake, “No, I’m feeling a little funny.” She put her right hand over her tummy. “I’m sure I’ll be alright… but, I’m going to stay here. Maybe a little LAY down is all I NEED.”
Fred reappeared and assembled the locks and oars. Tossing the painter into the hull, he told the youths, “There’s another small dock at the other end of the lake, and a REAL nice nature trail starts there. If you go on it, though, make sure the boat is tied up tight!” He laughed and pushed the craft away as Arthur, on the forward center thwart, began his turn rowing. Cecie twisted on the aft center thwart and waved, then returned, to watch past her nephew’s back at where he was propelling them.
On the dock, Fred faced Mary. With an anxious look he said, “I heard you… there’s a PHONE in the Park Warden’s hut. He’s in St. Louis all this week, but the office is open… if you want to CALL someone?”
Mary squinted at the concerned teenager. “Umm, I don’t know, really. I just didn’t want to spoil the kids’ fun.” She stared, past Fred’s clean-cut square face, over his wide bare chest and shoulders, at the wake of the fast disappearing watercraft. Mustering a weak smile, she suggested, in a faint voice, “Perhaps, if you help me, by the time we get to the hut I’ll know better what I should do.” She stretched out her right arm expectantly.
Along with his brawn, Fred had enough brains to read Mary’s invitation correctly. Stepping up and leaning in to her, he slipped his left arm around her slim waist while she laid her arm behind his head and gripped his right biceps fiercely. “Can you WALK, Mrs. Trotter? I’m pretty strong… I could CARRY you,” he offered helpfully.
“THANK you, Fred,” Mary replied, with a surprisingly prim tone. “Let’s just see how I do with you supporting me, like a crutch.” The boy was confused by the vocal change and wondered if he had offended his teacher’s wife. He certainly hoped not. Putting his best foot forward and leading off, he was pleased to feel Mary’s hip, ribs and bust warm against his skin as she moved in-step with him.
When they reached the gravel pathway at the shore, Mary suddenly lurched and lost her balance. Quick as a cat, Fred stooped and scooped her up before she fell to the ground. As he lifted her, she draped her arms around his neck and clung to his hard torso . “Wow!” She exclaimed. “You ARE strong… and FAST!” Curling herself into his chest she purred, “Thank you. I guess I DO… want to be carried.”
Dawes’ head spun as he tried to keep up with Mary’s signals. His dick, however, had no trouble translating the heat her squashed right breast transferred through his chest. It reared and bucked against his jock’s mesh pouch as it tried straightening up. Fred groaned. Mary’s cheek felt the deep rumble behind his ribs. She smiled slyly, feathered her fingernails across his bare back, and asked coyly, “Is the hut very far? Am I too HEAVY for you?”
“N-n-no,” Fred stammered, bouncing her and adjusting his grip for more stability. In fact, Mary Trotter’s hundred and twenty-five pounds was no trouble for Dawes at all. He was far more concerned avcılar escort about how he was going to explain his impossible to miss, doubled-over, nine-inch hard-on. Focusing on not stumbling, he walked, slightly sway-backed and bow-legged, in silence to the park’s main office building.
On the porch, Fred fumbled with the knob and bumped the door open with his boot toe. Mary slid her cheek over his pectorals and inhaled his tangy sweaty scent as he carried her across the threshold. She spoke in a tiny voice, “I… I need to lay down, Fred… is there… a COUCH or SOMETHING?”
Dawes looked around desperately. The big front room of the hut, furnished with hard-seated wooden arm chairs and display racks for pamphlets, doubled as a reception area for the park headquarters. On the other side of a dividing low railing were two desks. Nothing seemed suitable. “Let’s look in here,” he answered, nodding to a side door. Kicking through the rail’s swinging gate, he crossed the office area. Opening the indicated interior door, he moved into the Park Warden’s private quarters and panicked. “N-nothing here,” he choked, as he started to back out. “It’s a BEDROOM!”
Mary pinched his scapulae sharply and said, “What do you mean, ‘nothing’? A BED is just what the doctor ordered!” She rubbed her hand softly over the skin she had just pinched and said, quietly, “Put me on the bed, Fred. Please.”
Wide-eyed, Dawes lowered her and watched Mary roll out of his arms into the middle of the colonial-style maple double bed. The pleats of her blue-and-white flower-print cotton dress flared as she fell, flashing her thighs well above her knees. Flopped on her back, looking up at her semi-nude Galahad, she stared deliberately at his pronounced package. Then suddenly twisting and turning, she sat up and swung her legs over the mattress.
No longer coy or subtle, Mary shoved her left hand up under the loose right leg hem of his shorts and seized Fred’s strapped gear. Her right hand shot behind him, grabbed his tight hard buttocks and pulled him forward. He was frankly amazed at her speed, agility and strength. He groaned anew as she gazed up past his rippled abs and said reverently, “My God, you’re bigger than I thought… and still GROWING!”
“Mm-miss-usss TROT-ter, WHAT are you DOING?” The overwhelmed lad moaned his question from the back of his throat, even as his mind, processing fantastic sensations, screamed, “SHUT UP!” His blood raced.
Mary let go of him, but only long enough to yank his gym shorts and athletic supporter to his knees. They fell of their own accord to his ankles while she wrapped both of her small hands around his sprung staff. Sliding her left hand up and her right hand down, she massaged his fat helmet and heavy balls. “Now, FREDDY,” she said, using the same maternally soft, but commanding, tone she used to correct her young son’s misbehavior, “you just STAND there, like a GOOD boy… you’ll see for yourself what I’m doing.”
Fred scarcely believed what was happening as he bent his head and watched. Mary lowered her face, tilted her chin and pushed his knob into her mouth. She was wet, warm and insistent as she sucked the velvet top and pulsed his nuts in her palm. His cock was harder than he had ever experienced when he played with himself. His hips would not be still.
Mary’s saliva glistened on the thick dick as she bobbed up and down, drawing more and more of it into her mouth and throat. Fred grew light-headed and swayed above her while his upper legs quaked. He reached out and balanced himself with his hands on her shoulder tops. He sensed his cum staging, ready to shoot, but, unlike when he jacked himself, he was not in control of his destiny. It was maddening how, just as he approached the edge, he would fall back.
Mary teased and tortured her victim. Pausing at critical moments, she waited patiently. When she perceived his ejaculation risk fading, she redoubled her suction and brought him back to his peak, only to pause again. She smiled around his bone as she found the perfect timing to keep him in awful suspense. At length, she relented. His eggs retracted and his sack shrunk into a tight tennis ball. Mary squeezed the bag deliciously, one final time, puffed her cheeks and braised his throbbing prick with a long hot breath.
Fred pinched his fingers hard into Mary’s shoulders and clenched his ass. Leaning back, while his hips lunged forward, he plowed deep in her working mouth and shot off more powerfully than he ever had before. “Yyyyaaaaahhhhh!” His protracted howl rebounded in the small room. His steaming seed was a seemingly endless flow as it spurted repeatedly. Mary required all her experience not to choke. Relaxing her throat, she took every dram he delivered.
A moment later, Fred’s sturdy cock was a quiet fat warm worm on Mary’s tongue. She laved its tip and induced a last squirt. Pulling her head back, she looked up and praised her Adonis. “Mmmm, that was VERY şirinevler escort good, Freddy.” When she stood, Mary’s dress brushed over his bare stomach, aligning her bust with his lowest ribs. “NOW, young man,” she ordered, with a firm voice, “you must undress me. It won’t do to ruin my clothes.”
Mary recognized the confused hesitation in Fred’s face. She softened her tone and breathed, “Begin with my buttons. Go SLOWLY. We have plenty of time. Now, go ahead, dear…” She started him out by untying the white linen sailor’s knot at her collar and undoing the first disc. This action alone, when she spread the plackets, exposed more than half her décolletage.
Fred’s fingers trembled at the second button. His eyes were fixed on the deep cleavage disappearing beneath it. Mary reached her arms up, behind his back and trailed her nails on either side of his naked spine to the top of his ass and then back again. Mentally distracted by the shivers she caused, Dawes had her dress front opened wide before he realized it. The expanse of her creamy pale bosom tops took his breath away.
“You’ve never done anything LIKE this before, have you,” Mary stated flatly. “Well, it’s high time you did.” She raised her left hand behind Fred’s chestnut crew-cut and urged his head downward. “KISS me. Kiss THEM,” she ordered, inhaling deeply and elevating the bared surfaces.
Fred’s shyness and uncertainty evaporated with the first touch of his lips to the resilient soft firm breast tissue over Mary’s heart, at the seam of her lace-trimmed semi-sheer bra. He heard her moan and felt her quiver beneath his kiss. Whereas all of his experience was solo fantasy, he had a very good imagination and his sense of what he ought to do was finely tuned.
Fred hugged Mary’s shoulders to him while his hands slid her bodice over her upper arms and then moved to the back of her brassiere. As she felt the clasps release and her full breasts relax in their cups, Mary whispered, “Good boy… find your treats.” Fred pushed his face down to the medium large pinkish-tan areola hovering above the loose bra’s pocket. Mary’s pink nipple fattened and grew before his eyes as he hefted her boob and latched on. “Mmmm, yesss,” she mewled, “NOW you’re working it.”
Still sucking hard and non-stop, Fred eased Mary’s dress past her hips. Just like it had done for his shorts, gravity took the frock. It slithered to the floor, leaving her wearing only her shoes, thin beige rayon panty briefs and flapping bra. Mary dropped her arms. With a shimmy shake, and helpful pushing thumbs, even the light lingerie items were swiftly lost.
Taking more control, Mary closed the distance. She sandwiched Fred’s revitalized solid erection between their stomachs then rolled her shoulders and rocked her heaving right breast against his cheek as he continued sucking her left tit. She pulled his face sideways and panted, “Don’t… n-neglect mmmmmy OTHER side!” He obediently switched targets.
Pulling on the boy’s backside, Mary fell back on the bed. Fred followed naturally but lost his grip on her nipple as they hit the mattress. Mary slid her hands to his armpits and tugged. He climbed up higher and covered her with his body. Digging her nails into his shoulder blades, she kissed him and explored his mouth with her curling tongue. Fred growled and groped his right hand along her thigh, pressing outward.
Mary willingly opened her hips and cunny. Sneaking her left hand between their abdomens, she grasped his mighty meat and guided him surely to her wet waiting peach. As Fred felt her introduce his broad soft head to her slicked hole, he pushed and slid home. His thick curly brown pubic hair meshed with her scant downy translucent blond patch. Sighing together, they held for a moment.
“I KNEW you would know where to go and what to do, Freddy,” Mary sang sweetly to her junior stud as she collapsed her cunt tight around his tree trunk. “Now, remember, go SLOW… I’m here and I’m… COMING… not g-GO-ING!”
For all her speech about control, Mary was overheated. Her lustful unabated thoughts had begun stirring her the moment she saw Fred mowing the knoll. Now, with the salty taste of his cum still fresh in her mouth and his great tuber wedged against her womb, her pent up orgasm burst upon her. Stretching her legs and closing them around his mid-back, she screamed, squirted and curled her toes.
Fred rocked his hips, slowly as directed, and grinned madly. He could not believe it. His greatest virgin’s fear had been premature ejaculation. “My first fuck,” he thought deliriously. “And SHE’S the one who’s coming first!”
As he stroked, smooth and deep, he lost himself in himself and thrilled to Mary’s contortions. The longer he lasted, the more euphoric it was for them both. Mary’s tension rebuilt to the critical level and released twice more before Fred let out a primal howl and exploded. Mary screeched and clawed as once more she climaxed and then lay limp, with Fred’s weight pressing her deep into the Park Warden’s mattress.
Voices beyond the bedroom door woke Fred and Mary from their post-coital nap. Fred rolled off the bed with an alarmed look. Mary stared at his hanging sausage, suppressed a giggle and shook a warning finger at him. He moved to the door and listened fearfully.
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