Mother's Boyfriend

It happened shortly after I turned eighteen. At the time my mother would claim she was thirtyish and think she looked twenty five. By my reckoning she was fortyish and looked about thirty. For all her advanced age she could still pull the men. I'm not by any means suggesting she was a tart. She never had more than one boyfriend at a time and she usually kept the same one for a year or so.

I have to admit that with my face and figure I could also pull in the boys. If I wanted to, and I didn't particularly want to. Boys my age seemed so juvenile and older men would expect more from me than I was prepared to give. (So did the boys, but they're easier to manage.)

My father, from what I could remember, was a very dynamic man, determined to get his way and not afraid to let people know where he stood. He demanded what he considered his rights and wasn't willing to let anyone infringe on them. That's what got him killed, actually. He had right of way at the intersection and took it. The truck coming through apparently had no brakes and no regard for my father's right of way, going straight through him without slowing in the slightest.

Maybe losing my father as a young teen left me searching for a father figure. Who knows? I do know that I found my mother's current boyfriend very attractive.

Andrew was about forty, reasonably good looking, fairly tall and quite fit. He was also intelligent without being over-bearing. He had a pronounced idea of what was right and wrong and didn't mind jerking me into line if he thought I'd stepped over said line. I remember the last time I swore at my mother. It was the last time because Andrew heard me and let me know his opinion of young ladies swearing and the respect owed to parents. He had a very forceful way of expressing his opinion and my mother was totally unsympathetic.

"If it hurts that much you can eat standing up," she told me and dismissed my complaint.

I'm not saying that Andrew lived with us but he did spend a lot of time at our place. That explains why he was there one morning when I came stumbling out of my bedroom to get some breakfast. My mother had already left, her shift starting early that week, but Andrew was sitting at the table drinking coffee.

I came in, still in pyjamas, seeking my own coffee, needing something to kick-start the day. When I say pyjamas I'm not talking about a sexy silky outfit that clung to my figure and drew all eyes; I'm talking old baggy flannelette that was comfortable and warm and ideal for a long cold night.

So there was Andrew, drinking his coffee and looking calm and sophisticated. There was me, desperately clinging to my mug in case it tried to escape before I'd guzzled the contents, looking sleepy and incredible non-femme fatale.

Andrew finished his coffee and put his cup over on the sink. Then he came over to me, took my precious coffee out of my hand and put it on the table. While I was scrabbling to get it again he lifted me onto my feet.

"My coffee," I wailed.

"It can wait a moment," he told me, laughing.

With that he twitched the sides of my pyjama top and they fell to either side, showing exactly how far I'd grown. I had very nice breasts. Large enough but not too large, and very shapely. Not being one to tan topless, not that there'd been any decent tanning weather, my breasts were snow white, with a nice pink tip.

I had no idea if he'd managed to undo the buttons, or if my top and already been unbuttoned, or if the buttons automatically popped when he tugged the sides apart, but whichever it was it left my breasts on full display, there whiteness a nice contrast to the blush on my face.

"Very nice," Andrew said in a most appreciative voice, one finger coming up to lightly touch my nipple. "Still, I can't stay here to play with them. I'll see you later. Enjoy your coffee."

With that he leaned forward, kissed the nipple he'd just touched, and departed. I was left staring after him, shocked, mouth open, pyjama top wide open, face flushed, nipples erect, coffee not in my hand. I hastened to correct the last item.

Let me tell you that I was acutely aware of Andrew when I saw him that evening. For his part he acted as if that little incident never happened, while my nipples puckered as soon as I saw him, fortunately not noticeable through my top.

It was next morning that Andrew struck again. I'd barely walked into the kitchen when my top was loose and he was stroking my breasts. He didn't just lightly touch my nipple. Oh, no. He cupped both my breasts and got a good feel of them. He sat me down at the table and produced coffee for me, frowning when I went to close my pyjamas. I finished up drinking my coffee, pink of face, while Andrew finished off his own coffee and enjoyed the view.

After his coffee Andrew was off again. In case you're wondering, yes, he took time to kiss my nipple again. He apparently had a little extra time as he kissed both my breasts, and quite thoroughly.

It was the same that evening as the previous. Andrew not affected, me instantly affected and hoping I wasn't showing it.

Unfortunately it was more of the same the next morning and, oh boy, do I mean more. He wasn't content to just push my top off this time. He also pushed my pyjama trousers down leaving me naked before his wandering eye, and that eye was wandering up and down my body, examining me carefully.

This time he didn't even make a pretence that he was kissing me goodbye for the day. His hands and his mouth were all over me, and I do mean all over. I jumped when his hand closed over my mound while he was sucking on my breast. Big deal. The rotten man went down on one knee and his mouth was on my mound. I actually screamed when that happened.

After he'd gone I collected my wits and came to a decision. Screw my coffee. Come the next morning I wasn't going into the kitchen until he'd gone.

I had the will-power to back up my decision, too. My alarm went off and I got out of bed and stayed right there in the bedroom, waiting.

It turned out I'd have been safer going into the kitchen. When I didn't turn up in a timely manner he came looking for me, walking into my bedroom just as bold as you please.

"Excuse me," I grumbled. "Haven't you heard of knocking? I might have been getting changed."

He just laughed at me. Standing in front of me he started slowly undoing the buttons on my top. I just stood there feeling helpless, letting him. He peeled my top right off and tossed it to the side. Then he just as slowly lowered by pyjama pants, politely holding them near my ankles so I could step out of them. Standing up again he took my arm and steered me over to the bed and sat me on it.

I wasn't sitting for long. He turned me around and pushed me back until I was lying on the bed with him sitting next to me. Then the touching and the kissing started. Mouth, neck, breasts, tummy, mons, and mound. He touched them all and kissed them all. His mouth started spending more time pleasing my breasts and nipples while his fingers worked diabolic destruction on my pussy and my nervous system.

He finally stood up and just looked down at me for a moment. Then he started undressing. I was telling myself no way. He's not really going to strip off. He's just playing with my mind. Then his trousers went down and I was thinking no way. What the hell does he think he's going to do with that? If he thinks that thing is coming anywhere my virginal little body he's got rocks in his head.

I might have seen a boy's erection before. I may even have touched one. A man's erection is just the same as a boy's, although in this case maybe a little bit more so. I knew what he wanted to do with it and I also knew what I didn't want to do with it.

He pushed my legs further apart. Further apart? Who am I kidding? They finished up so far apart I was practically doing the splits. He just landed on the bed, kneeling in front of me, his erection waving to me.

I was trying to say no way, back off, don't you dare touch me with that thing, go away or I'll scream. What I actually said was precisely nothing, just staring at his cock with wide eyes.

He leaned forward a little, one hand spreading my lips, the other steering his cock into place. He gave a gentle push and then he was fucking me. Starting to, anyway. His cock eased in a little way and that's when I found my voice.

Trouble is, instead of saying something simple like no, or even more emphatically, no way, Jose, what I did say was, "Aaaaah, scream, aaaaah," with that last ah sound dragging out as he kept sinking into me. The scream? Well, I was a virgin. That scream was me finding out that suddenly I wasn't a virgin. The transition from virgin to ex went smoothly enough but it hurt. Hence the little scream.

Apart from that one little bit everything else was just wonderful. Marvellous. Unbelievable. I had a great big cock inside me and it felt good. It was long and fat and filling me up and it seemed to be calling on me to take note that it was there and about to get busy. I just waited expectantly.

Andrew started rocking and his cock started moving back and forth inside me and my immediate reaction was, oh, wow. Memories of talks with my friends surfaced and I gave myself a kick and started moving with him. It took me a couple of moments to get it right but them my reaction switched to double wow.

He'd barely started but I just knew that I could take a whole lot more of this. I just closed my eyes and let myself concentrate on what Andrew was doing to me.

They say that practice makes perfect and according to that Andrew had had a lot of practice as what he was doing felt perfect to me. Hopefully I'd be able to get a lot more practice at doing it.

His cock slipped in and out, in and out, taking away all my cares (not that I had many) and replacing them with excitement. A lot of excitement. Excitement that just kept on building.

I was urging him on, lots of yeses and pleases babbling from me as he taught me something I'd always wanted to know, even if I hadn't known I wanted to.

It was all getting too much for me. I was tossing my head about, asking him for something, and he responded. He started moving faster and I was pushing urgently to meet him, knowing that this was important. Then I exploded, pleasure unknown tearing through me, sending me floating away and not wanting to come back down.

I felt him separate and I opened my eyes and looked at him, slowly coming to a full realisation of what had happened. Bloody hell. I'd just been seduced and initiated by my mother's boyfriend. How dare he do such a thing? What sort of fool was I to permit it? I abruptly sat up, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

"Coffee should just about be ready," he said. "Have a quick clean-up while I go and pour it."

Coffee! It's morning and I need my coffee. Forget Andrew for now. A clean-up and coffee was in order. I could give him a piece of my mind after the coffee.