Backyard MILF Ch. 03

She bobbed and bobbed, tilting her head from side to side and up and down, but she could not get very much of me in. She popped her head up and said to me in frustration, "Your jeune homme is a little big, my Reggie! I must improvise."

I don't know if it required improvisation on her part or not, but what she, in fact, proceeded to do was demonstrate how unimportant depth of penetration is to truly spectacular head.

She bathed me in kisses, wet kisses, and with licks, very wet licks, until my cock was drenched in her warm saliva. He hand wrapped smoothly around my sodden member and began to slide along its length with measured, perfectly firm strokes. As she worked, she focused her lips and her tongue just on the aching, swollen helmet of my manhood.

I collapsed backward on the carpet as Patrice lavished me with incredible stimulation. I wanted to reach out with the hand on her side to cup and caress a dangling breast, but she had me on such a sensory overload that I just shook there on my back on the floor.

"Gonna... come..." I grunted. "Like... right now!"

Patrice just stroked harder. She did let my dick slip free of her lips and she held her face over me. Somehow the necessity of not flat out shrieking my approval as I came, made the orgasm that much more powerful, as I directed the energy of my need to scream back inwards. I fountained upward like a geyser, spraying cum in a single, massive blast up against her beautiful, hovering face.

I may have forgotten to breathe, or even how to breathe, for a moment there--either way, suddenly I was gasping for oxygen.

Patrice sat up, still massaging my shaft, and smiled at me, a line of jizz streaking across her face. I stared at her in thanks as she slid on her knees over to her bedside and grabbed an already-worn blouse from her suitcase. She quite happily used her shirt to wipe my spunk from her face and slid back toward me.

I was now almost breathing normally, and she looked down at my softening member.

"Oh no! We can't have this," the Frenchwoman said swiftly, and she stroked my cock once more, bending to suckle on my head again. It was... an unfamiliar sensation, to have a woman so industriously work to keep me from softening.

And it worked.

When she found herself once more stroking steel, she smiled at me. "I am glad I do not have to wait," she murmured. She leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I hope that it does not shock you, but I always carry condoms with me in my travels. Sadly, I do not often get the chance to use them. But tonight, I am going to put one on you." Her lips tugged at my earlobe. "Does that sound good for you?"

"Let me say that I am here for making your travels better," I laughed, louder than I should have.

She had grabbed the condom at the same time as she had grabbed her now cum-sodden blouse, and she tore open the package. She kissed my cock head yet again, then began to slowly unroll the sheath down over me.

I'm never a fan of using a glove, but where needed, they are a must. And Patrice made the act of putting one on a sexual experience in and of itself. Each inch it covered on me was a sensuous journey, while her dangling lower fingers tickled and teased my balls.

With the latex fully encasing me, she got onto her knees and straddled me. She grabbed my hands and placed them on her tits.

I can get a hint.

I circled her nipples with my fingers, then began to tug at those joyous buds, pinching them ever so lightly.

Patrice hissed with pleasure and lifted my cock on a bed of her fingers to point at her sex. I tugged harder on her nipples as she sank downward, trapping me in her hot, throbbing interior.

She looked as if part of her wanted to just sit there atop me, encompassing me. But most of her wanted to ride me, and majority rules, after all. She braced her hands, one atop the other, on the base of my rib cage and started sliding her way up and down.

As she rode me, all I could hiss to her was, "You are fucking amazing, Patrice!"

"This all is amazing," she panted atop me. "I have never done anything so arousingly naughty as making love to a man in a friend's guest room while his family are directly underneath us."

"They are still here?" I asked, only tangentially aware of their existence at all right then.

"Oh yes! Did you not hear them laughing just now?"

I was getting laid in the same house as my parents. That was...

Banishing the thought, I pushed my hips upward and began feverishly pumping up and into Patrice, slamming my cock up and into her hovering, hungry pussy. He delicate boobies bounced rhythmically as I slammed upward into her.

Suddenly, she pushed down on my belly, stopping my movements. "Hush!" she whispered. "Your bottom is slapping the floor!"

"Can't have that," I replied and rolled her to the side. She nearly shrieked at the sudden movement, and actually pouted as I withdrew my cock.

I pulled her up onto her hands and knees and slid behind her. "We will be solid on the floor this way," I chuckled and pressed my cock between her legs.

Patrice merely hung her head down, saying, "That is a very good idea, my lover," as she pushed her hips backward, driving her pussy back and onto me. I grabbed her hips and began to fuck her in earnest. Each deep, swift stroke was a fresh explosion of pleasure for me, and from how her body involuntarily responded, I sensed it was the same for her.

The head of my cock stroked her inner walls, and I tilted it as best I could to hit her just right. I knew when it succeeded, because she instantly ground out, "There! Right there, s'il vous plaît!" Then she was babbling on in French, saying I know not what, but sounding sexy (and thankfully still quiet) as she rambled.

With the condom, and having just come practically no time before, I should have had an easy time holding off the orgasm. I really should. Instead, as I knelt on the floor, pulling Patrice's sporty hips hard back into my cock, I nutted in extraordinarily powerful fashion. I filled the condom and despite the protective barrier, Patrice clearly felt the surge of my jizz, because shudders instantly wracked her delicate frame. She grabbed the blouse once more. The poor garment, once an elegant blouse, and now a cum rag, was suddenly transformed into a gag which she jammed into her moth to muffle the powerful vocalization that strained to leap forth.

I slipped free from within her almost involuntarily, and like a felled tree, I tottered over onto my side, next to her. Amazingly, she had retained some semblance of self-control, and merely sank onto her own side next to me. In moments, we were kissing again, but very slowly now. There was no urgency, just gentle affection and attraction.

After a bit, I felt a hand delicately stroke my now very soft cock, tugging the filled condom free. With a quick twist of her fingers to secure the contents, she tossed it into the trash. Then she leaned back, and instead of resuming our kiss, she bent and sucked my flaccid member clean!

"I think you are being over-optimistic there," I groaned. My cock was stubbornly shrunken, despite the wonderful sensations. Patrice had all of me in her mouth now, and worked her tongue around thoroughly.

At last, she let me slide free, still glistening but quite clean of any residual semen. "I wanted to take the opportunity to feel all of you in my mouth. I just could not do it before."

Another burst of laughter came from downstairs. We both looked at each other and stifled giggles.

"And apparently, I have the opportunity to be patient," she added with a wink. "You are not going anywhere for a while, I think."

Getting up here without being caught had been hard enough, but getting back down and out at this point would be much harder... and impossible to explain away if or when we got caught!

"Well then, it is a good thing that I have neither reason nor motivation to leave, isn't it?" I murmured, pulling her toward me while rolling her onto her back, half-superimposing myself atop her. It was a lovely way to pass the time, indulging in more of those lovely, languid kisses.

In our lives, we had shared perhaps half an hour of conversation, and that in a group with Kristie and my parents, followed by ten minutes of mutual seduction in the backyard, before we were ripping each other's clothes off. We hardly knew each other, and neither of us cared. This was just a magical, zipless experience for both of us, and I think neither wanted to ruin it with actual conversation, lest one of us say something to ruin it. I know that I certainly wanted to avoid that fate. So we did not talk, just kissed, stared at each other, and further explored each other's bodies.

We also listened for sounds from downstairs. I had no idea that my parents had this much to talk about with Kristie.

"They are talking about us, I am guessing," I said softly, after another raucous laugh from below.

"A bien... But of course! We are scandalous! We slipped away... we fled our hostess without saying our goodbyes, left her party and went out to the discotheques. And we have only just met."

I kissed her smiling face. "And you must leave tomorrow," I added softly.

"Alas, yes," she said, still smiling, though just a touch more softly.

This was what it was, for both of us. That we would only be together once was a shame, but not a tragedy. And the togetherness was inspiring...

Finally, we heard goodbyes being said from below. As we listened, Patrice's hand once more stole below my waist, as it had done from time to time while we lay together. This time, it found stirrings in response, and I felt her lips curl upward against mine.

"At last! I was growing impatient," she purred. My shaft, now that it had re-awoken, was hardening in her hand at a rapid pace, and she encouraged the process quite pleasantly.

The front door closed loudly.

I was fully hard again.

"Now, let us hope that my friend is tired, and takes to her bed soon," Patrice said to me in a whisper.

"Won't it be easier for her to hear us if she comes up here?" I asked, not entirely sure that Kristie discovering us would be a bad thing.

But making it obvious that we were here, and what we were up to, would not be Gateway to Threesome, but Mood Killer, I realized. Not that I would not tell Kristie later, of course. I wold need to offer my fulsome thanks, after all. And Patrice also probably would dish on our dalliance, for that matter. But there were forms to observe, and Kristie needed to remain the conservative, almost prudish American to her co-worker.

In the history of things that sucked, this was one of the things that sucked the most, yet mattered the least.

"Perhaps," Patrice shrugged. "But my friend seems to take to her bathroom and shower endlessly each night before bed. Let us hope she does so tonight. The water will cover the noise when I finally get to fuck you."

"I do believe that 'finally' is the wrong word in English, Patrice."

"No-no," she chuckled. "Earlier, we made love. While that water runs, I want to fuck you."

Thankfully, we almost immediately heard Kristie come up stairs. I was sure that my mother had not left without ensuring things were all cleaned up after our visit. That was her way. We heard Kristie pass the room we were in and enter her own master bedroom.

Patrice spent the moments between her arrival upstairs and the sound of running water applying another condom in that same erotic fashion as the first.

As the water ran, we both rose quickly and turned toward the bed. Before she could object, I lifted Patrice (she's a tall woman, if willowy, and that was not easy) and tossed her onto her back on the mattress. She let herself giggle out loud this time. In a flash, I was on the bed after her, looming over her, my knees between hers, and my arms braced on the mattress to either side.

I dipped my hips low, and let my cock press eagerly against the wet and receptive lips of her pussy.

"Fuck. Me," she demanded.

I slid into her. Though still magically tight, her body was more than receptive, and I thrust into her deeply from the first. I kept the pace slow, but each penetration was hard and fast, followed by a pause and a slow withdrawal. Her face below me grew flushed swiftly in response to my repeated, powerful entry into her. I'm pretty sure I was grimacing from the effort I was putting in, and the control I was exerting to keep myself under control.

Her long legs lifted into the air and wrapped themselves around the small of my back, giving me an angle for even deeper penetration. Her hands grasped my jawline, and pulled me into another breath-robbing, tongue-battling kiss.

Around our pressed lips and commingled tongues, I heard her order me. "Fuck. Me."

So much for controlling myself. I wanted... no, I needed to hammer my cock into her, and she needed me to do it. There were no teasing pauses, no slow withdrawals. I put it in and out of her as hard and fast as I could, squeaking mattress springs be damned.

Fucking doesn't last as long as making love, I determined. Soon both of us were sodden, sweaty messes, short on breath and long on arousal. Suddenly, Patrice grabbed my head even harder and screamed into my mouth, using me as a silencer while her body thrashed beneath me in sudden, magnificent release. I kept hammering, somehow keeping my own answering ejaculation at bay while I rode her through that wave of release, and the one that followed it.

I was tottering on the edge of no longer being able to hold back, when a third orgasm took the woman beneath me. I groaned loudly, gushing forth in a release of pleasure that left me gasping for oxygen. Please God, let Kristie's shower still running.

Somehow, in the aftermath, we got me dressed, and my hair in presentable shape, should my parents still be up when I went home. I was obviously a sweaty mess, but now I looked as if I had been dancing all night, not fucking... probably. If you were not looking for it.

"My parents know that I don't dance," I said uncertainly.

"Nonsense! You were out at night with a Frenchwoman. There was dancing," Patrice laughed.

There was also more kissing.

Patrice opened her door silently, and we saw under the door that Kristie's room was dark. We snuck down the stairs to the front door. One last kiss, and we opened the door noisily. I stepped out, and Patrice reminded inside.

"American men," she mused, shaking her head, then making a chef's kiss gesture to me. "I must find excuses to come here more often."

With a smile, we parted.

When I got home, my parents were already in bed themselves. That was fairly early for them, as they both tended to be night owls, and I shied away from what early to bed might mean in this case. I swiftly went upstairs and leapt straight into the shower. I had a delicious aroma that I wanted to savor, but needed to be rid of.

And I had good evidence that running water did a fair job of hiding the sound of any activities I'd rather not have to recognize.

*

In the morning, I got a text.

Kristie: Patrice says you had a great time out last night

Kristie: She is summoning her Uber now. I think she'd like to say goodbye

I put down my coffee, and told my Dad, who was still sitting at the breakfast table with me, reading his phone, "Patrice is leaving for the airport. I think I'll say goodbye."

"I'll come say goodbye as well," he replied, rising. He looked at mom, "Coming?"

"No, I'll finish here," she said. "You two go ogle the Frenchwoman, and say au revoir for me!"

I hastened outside, my father annoyingly following behind. Patrice and Kristie were standing on the grass in front of the front porch and we ambled over.

We all chatted casually about Patrice's visit and the prospect of her transatlantic flight while we waited for the car.

Only once did her eyes and mine meet in a glance of understanding, but it was enough.

A beat up Chrysler minivan rolled up, and the driver swiftly moved to help Patrice with her bag.

And just like that, she was gone.

"Well, see you this weekend at the pool party," Kristie said to us and turned to head back into her house.

"Lovely woman," my father observed as we walked back to our yard. "Shame you only met her the day before she left. I think she had the hots for you, boy, sneaking off like that. Just a couple of days more and you'd have scored, I think."

"You just wish she'd been her long enough to expand your sex life vicariously through me!" I snarked.

"Son, I have all the sex I need right here," said my father waving his hands smugly.

I winced. It was bad enough he had to say that, but I got extra nervous at how expansive that wave had been, as it seemed like it encompassed much of the neighborhood, not just the house to which we were returning.

A few minutes later, I got another text.

Kristie: Tomorrow, right after work.

Me: I thought we didn't do appointments?

Kristie: No watching tomorrow. No performance. Your parents noticed nothing last night, but I know the sounds my house makes. You are absolutely going to tell me each and every detail of last night

There was a pause.

Kristie: With your dick planted so far in me, I'm pinned to the bed

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. As always, thanks in advance for your honest votes, favorites and follows. Most of all, give me a comment! And one more thing, if it bothers you, I am sorry, I know it bothers me in real life, but Kristie is one of those people who never uses a period to end her texts. I have to give her some flaws...