Mrs Beattie's Christmas Tree

"God, can I?" I mewled, swallowing heavily again.

"I'm not too old for you, am I?" asked Mrs Beattie, her eyes fixed on my face.

I shook my head and burbled something incomprehensible. "I think you're perfect," I managed in the end.

A laugh tinkled out of her. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far," she said with a shrug. "But thank you, it's lovely to hear you say it." Mrs Beattie moved in to lay claim to my cock once again. She stroked its full length and smeared clear pre-cum over the knob-end. "How old are you, Robert?" she purred.

I stammered my age, a revelation which brought a burst of delight from Mrs Beattie. "I'm so wicked," she grinned into my face, fingers still going at my dick. "I'm twice your age, it's a scandal," she added. "But we don't have to tell anyone, do we? We could have a nice little fuck, couldn't we Robert?"

I was groaning and gasping and fighting the urge to squirt jizm all over her skirt. "I can fuck you?" I warbled.

"Oh yes," she nodded. "I think you're quite keen." Mrs Beattie squeezed my girth in emphasis. "And I'd love to have you put this inside me."

I gasped and stammered, "Buh-but, I've never done it before, Mrs Beattie," her fist stilling as soon as I'd said it.

"You're a virgin?" she gaped, eyebrows up in her hairline.

The shame of it sent heat flooding my face. I thought it was all over. What use would Mrs Beattie have for me now?

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, certain I was about to be ridiculed and thrown out of her house.

"Honestly?" she was saying. "You've never...? This is your first time?"

I closed my eyes while sucking in air through my nose. "I'm sorry," I repeated while nodding.

"Sorry?" she gasped. "Whatever for? Jesus Christ, Robert," Mrs Beattie went on. "You don't have to be sorry."

"Buh-but I'm nineteen..."

She must have seen something in my expression, read the pain and humiliation creasing my face because she was suddenly cranking my cock once again, words coming out in short little bursts. "Did you think I'd mind, Robert? Is that it? Do you think I'm not thrilled to find out I'll be your first? I think it's wonderful, darling ... And don't worry about how old you are. I think it's sweet." She was moving in close, eyes gleaming with some inner fire as she carried on cranking away. "I think it's fucking marvellous," Mrs Beattie informed me. "A virgin," she cooed, shaking her head. "I'll take very good care of you, Robert. I'll take very good care of your lovely hard cock."

Euphoria burst in my chest when I heard what she said, the realisation a cold-water shock. "You mean...?" I gurgled, gaping into her uptilted face. "We're really going to do it? You want to do it with me?"

Mrs Beattie smirked and nodded and pulled her lower lip in between her teeth, eyes flashing carnal intent. "Of course I want to do it with you -- why wouldn't I? Yes, Robert, you and I," breathed Mrs Beattie, "are most certainly going to fuck."

Lust twisted my guts when she said it, the sight of her breast-flesh shivering and rolling while she kept working at me with one hand bringing a low groan from my throat.

"I'll suck you as well," Mrs Beattie went on. "Ever had your cock sucked before?"

Unable to articulate a coherent reply, I just shook my head to indicate the negative.

Mrs Beattie pouted, then asked, "Have you ever licked a woman's cunt?"

The casual use of the obscenity hit me low and hard, the image of Mrs Beattie all bare and supine rushing across the screen of my mind's eye. In my head I saw her nude and splayed, fingers holding herself open while she mumbled at me from under eyes glazed with desire. "Lick it, then fuck me," the fantasy breathed. "I'm so fucking randy."

"Oh my God!" I heard the real Mrs Beattie squeak. "You're going to come!"

And I was. It was all getting too much. Her hand had been working my cock, coaxing the irreversible surge up from my balls while her breasts and her face and her words were a taunt.

"Mrs Beattie," I gurgled, feeling the sap rise. "I'm sorry ... I can't help it ... You're--"

In the final seconds, before it all turned into a blur, I watched Mrs Beattie react. She kept on jacking my cock as she went down to her knees, aiming the eye at her chest.

"You dirty bugger!" she yelped when I let fly, cum splashing over her skin with an audible squirt. "You're coming," she added, the announcement completely unnecessary as more semen sprayed over the upper slopes of her breasts.

After that I was groaning and grunting, the pleasure of it bringing sobs from my chest, cum bursting out in a seemingly never-ending deluge. Burst after burst of pent up frustration spattering down on Mrs Beattie as she took all I had.

"I'm sorry," I gasped when some level of coherent thought returned.

Mrs Beattie laughed at me while holding her cardigan against her chest to soak up the mess. "Don't worry," she said with a shrug, "it'll wash."

"No," I croaked, "I meant for not being able to control myself."

Another laugh came out of her as she clambered upright. Mrs Beattie rolled her eyes, grinning at me while saying, "I take it as a compliment, Robert," then came in to kiss my mouth.

Pulling away from the kiss, Mrs Beattie then said, "I think I'm going to get you in the bath. We can bathe and get all clean and then..." She shrugged again, eyes locking on mine to hold my stare while she asked, "Would you like me to take you upstairs to my bed? We can take it slowly. We can bathe and then explore. I'll show you what makes me feel good. I can make your first time special."

"Do you mean it?" I asked, gasping from the effort of pouring spunk over Mrs Beattie's chest.

She rolled her eyes at me, nodding and smirking while purring, "Oh yes, Robert. I do. Come along," added Mrs Beattie, taking my hand. "Let's go upstairs."

*

She drew a deep bath and eased me out of my clothes. The first heady rush had calmed somewhat, the shock wearing off slowly, and I was shy when she urged me to strip, intimidated by her experience, concerned I wouldn't match other lovers she'd known.

"Come on," cooed Mrs Beattie when I was down to my pants. "Let's get you bathed." She pecked my cheek, eyes twinkling with devilment. "I'll get in there with you. I've got to wash this muck off my tits."

I blushed at the reminder, then sucked in some courage along with a deep draught of air.

"That's it," she purred when I stepped out of my undies. "Oh my," she added, eyes moving over my nakedness. "I'm going to have a good time with you."

At her insistence, I climbed into the bath, Mrs Beattie commenting when she saw the rash on my neck.

"Pine needles," I told her as I sank into the hot water. "Bloody Christmas trees."

There was some conversation about my employment status while Mrs Beattie undressed. She made a comment about me getting a proper job, then distracted me by unclasping her bra.

"Now remember," she said, pausing with her hands at the fastening to her skirt. "I'm thirty-bloody-eight. I'm not one of them skinny birds you see gadding about."

I was hard when I gurgled an honest, "I think you're lovely," desire for her ripe curves thickening my dick.

"Yes, well," Mrs Beattie replied. She hesitated a moment, eyes fixed on my face as though gauging my response. Then she shrugged and muttered something indistinct, the zip going down.

She turned and shimmied, the skirt going over her hips, knickers coming away at the same time. I had a moment to marvel at her jiggling buttocks while she kicked off her shoes, the dark honeyed hue of her skin reinforcing the suggestion of gypsy blood I'd seen in her eyes and the colour of her hair. There was definitely a touch of something exotic in her lineage -- Mediterranean perhaps, somewhere back there?

And then all thought of her ancestry vanished when she turned, her vulva level with my eyes.

"I've heard that barmaid did hers this way," Mrs Beattie informed me. "You know, the pretty German lass at the Hyde park."

I boggled, dick pulsing at the sight of her meaty labia a foot or two away from my face, her mons totally bald.

"It feels a bit strange," the lady informed me. She was examining herself, chin on her chest, looking down over her boobs. "Makes me bloody horny, though," chuckled Mrs Beattie with a roll of her eyes. "What do you think, Robert?"

I had no words. I just sat in the bath, mouth open as I took I all in. It was just another surprise on top of everything else.

"At least there's no hair to get in the way when you kiss it," she was saying as she stepped over the rim of the tub.

The water rose up to my chest when she settled in with a long drawn out sigh. Mrs Beattie reclined, our legs entwining as she murmured her appreciation and I stared at her breasts.

"Isn't this lovely?" she whispered, eyes staying closed.

I eyed her long fleshy nipples in the disks of their areolae, yearning rising inside me. "I want to fuck you," I gurgled, her eyes flying open as water sloshed the sides of the bath.

"You bugger," chuckled Mrs Beattie when I lunged in and grabbed at her tits. "All right," she added, still laughing. "We'll have a quick wash and get out. Stop it," she said, slapping my hands. "There's time for you to play with them when we're in bed. Stop being so eager."

"But, Mrs Beattie..." I whined, a fist working my cock below the water line.

"Here, stop that now. Let me wash you. Stand up, Robert," she ordered." She pushed my hand away from my cock and urged me to rise, eyes going wide when she saw my hard-on jiggling and waving.

Mrs Beattie took over. She lathered up soap in her hands and then wanked at my length for a few strokes, then rinsed off the suds and, levering herself halfway out of the bath, ducked in to suck the big purple head.

I groaned when her tongue tickled the underside of my cock-end, hips thrusting while instinctively fucking into her mouth.

She reared back and told me to sit down. "Calm down, Robert. Let me wash you all over."

I sat there and let her do it, then took great pleasure in soaping her tits, taking a long time as I massaged her slippery flesh, kneading Mrs Beattie's heavy breasts while also leaning in to suck at both of her nipples.

Then it was over. After a few minutes soaping and rinsing, Mrs Beattie announced we were ready to climb out of the bath and dry off.

It was a chaotic time as she attempted to towel herself dry and I kept grabbing at her body. My cock waggled around, the thing as stout as an oak branch, desire making me bold. I was excited beyond anything I'd known in the past, desperate to touch her body all over, to thrust my cock into her cunt. If I had my way I would have fucked into her right there in the bathroom. All I could think of was getting my dick into her. I was frantic to experience the sensation of actually fucking a woman. Taking my time to savour the moment meant nothing at all.

Mrs Beattie, however, had other ideas. She knew I'd be sorry if it was all done too quickly. "Robert," she said, grabbing hold of my wrists. "Calm down, darling; don't be so urgent. I promise we'll do it, but you have to let me show you the way." Moving in close, she slowly jacked at my length, the pleasure of it making me groan. We kissed, her breasts squashing between us, tongues squirming and writhing while she did her best to soothe the beast rampaging inside me.

"But I want to--" I growled as I fucked into her fist, palms sliding over her skin. "I'm going mad," Mrs Beattie.

She stepped back, her eyes on my dick. "God, you're so ardent ... It's exciting having you so keen. But I want you to savour this, Robert. Don't rush in like a mad bull. You'll thank me for it when you're older."

"Please," I hissed, tugging my own length. "I've got to put it in. You're so fucking sexy!"

I watched her eyes close as she sucked in a deep breath, the roll and sway of her tits doing nothing to cool my inflamed passion.

"You better take care of me," she said when she opened her eyes. I didn't understand what she meant until Mrs Beattie clarified by adding, "Will you stay with me tonight? I want this to be more than a quick fuck. I have needs too, Robert. I want us to love the whole night."

In that moment I was so desperate I would have agreed to her keeping my testicles as a souvenir. She could hang them on the Christmas tree if she wanted. All that mattered was getting inside Mrs Beattie. Desire was an imperative, my need all consuming.

I gasped, "I'll do anything for you," lunging at her again. Then we were kissing, my hands full of her body. I grabbed at her buttocks to pull her in close, the tips of my fingers finding her sex all hot and wet with her lust when I explored the deep crease between the cheeks of her arse. "Oh Jesus," I moaned, shocked at finding her sodden.

"Bedroom," she growled. "If you want it so bad, you're going to get it, my lad."

*

Fortunately for me, Mrs Beattie's house came fitted with central heating. Naked, she bundled me onto a bed the size of a tennis court, bounding aboard to join me as I sank into the thick quilt which covered it.

She moved fast, chuckling while I laid on my back, her hand on my dick. Mrs Beattie knelt alongside me, caressing my length while lifting one leg. "See this?" she said, her voice clotted with whatever she had going on inside her.

I nodded, gulping when I saw her splaying her ungainly labia with the fingers of one hand.

"This is my clit," Mrs Beattie lewdly informed me, flicking the tip of a forefinger over a swollen pink bean. "You're going to suck this fucking thing," she went on, eyes closing as she gave it a quick rub. Something wrenched loose deep in my chest when Mrs Beattie continued with her gravel-throated and very lewd, refrain. "And here..." she mewled, two fingers sliding into her opening. "This is my cunt ... And she's hungry. When you've finished fucking me, Robert," I heard her mumble, "I expect you to use your fingers and tongue on my clout. It isn't over when you've shot your muck. I know it's your first time ... but you're going to learn how to please a woman as well. I'll look after you..." Mrs Beattie fixed me with a level look of such intensity I stopped thrusting up into her fist. "...but you have to promise to take care of me. Is that all right? Do you understand me? If you make me feel good, Robert," my soon-to-be-lover continued, "well," she added with a smirk and lascivious wink, "we can do it again and again. All over Christmas," she purred, breasts dangling as she leaned in to kiss me.

"I'll do anything," I moaned, willing to do whatever it took.

"Good lad," she said, eyes fixed on my face. "So why don't you have a little taste?" She left me alone, letting go of my cock while rolling onto her back. "You're going to have a lot of firsts today, Robert." Mrs Beattie held herself open, her sex swollen and wet. "Take a first taste before you put your cock inside me. Let's see how you do at sucking my cunny."

*

I made her squeal and grunt and shout out obscenities. She was slick on my tongue, the texture and taste beyond anything I'd ever experienced before. I went at her, tentative at first, my confidence blooming while working on instinct, guidance gasping from Mrs Beattie, her moans and sighs and yelps of delight an indication of how I was performing

Mrs Beattie told me what to do and where she wanted it doing. She helped me take her to the precipice by moaning at me to lick and nibble and suck. My desire to fuck into her body eased as I became engrossed in my task, the realisation I could get Mrs Beattie to climax with fingers and tongue a vague goal in the distance.

I don't have any idea how long I was busy down between those smooth thighs. Time meant nothing while I soaked up the experience.

"Oh my God, bloody hell" Mrs Beattie cried out. She had two of my fingers rubbing inside her, my lips sucking her clit when the yelp burst out of her. At first I thought I'd done something wrong, that I'd perhaps been too robust and hurt her without meaning to. But then she muttered about it all being so good, about how wonderful it was to have such a fast learner sucking her cunt. "I don't fucking believe it," squeaked Mrs Beattie, the bed heaving like a rowing boat in a storm. "Keep doing it," she grunted, feet coming up off the bed. "Rub me harder, you beautiful boy. Keep using your fingers...

"Not so much on my clit," Mrs Beattie called out a few seconds later. "But don't you dare stop with those fingers."

Awed by what I was doing, I kept my hand where it was, digits busy, the violence on top of the bed holding me transfixed while I worked my way up onto my knees.

I was still going at her when her orgasm exploded. She bucked and writhed, clasping my wrist while forcing her body against me. I looked on, agog. I stared at her face twisted in agony as she sobbed her delight and wailed on about how good it felt to climax on my fingers.

"I don't bloody believe it," Mrs Beattie breathed, the vehemence eventually subsiding. She gaped up at me, eyes wide, sucking in air in-between gasping on about how incredible it had been for me to get her to orgasm. "I want more of you," she informed me, pulling me down for a kiss. Then, when I slurped and slobbered over her nipples, the yearning blooming white hot in my belly, Mrs Beattie told me it was time to make love. "Come on, daring," she cooed, stroking my hair with one hand. She eased me away from her breasts, legs going wide as she offered me her sex. "Fuck me," Mrs Beattie murmured. "But take your time," she continued. "Don't rush in and start galloping away. Take this memory with you forever, Robert."

I could feel my heart leaping about inside the cage of my ribs as I shuffled in on my knees.

I asked, "What do I do?" cranking my cock while staring down at the mystery of those gooey folds.

She chuckled, reaching down with one hand, taking control while muttering at me to hold myself over her body on straight arms. "Here, let me show you," she whispered, guiding me to her. "There, just there. Push, Robert," she said.

And then I groaned when I felt her molten embrace close around me. "God," I gurgled, the sensation sublime as I went in up to my balls.

"Love me," she breathed, hips starting to move. "You'll never forget me, you know. I'll always be your first time."

End

Afterword:

I don't usually put up any thoughts at the end of a submission, but I just wanted to explain why I've ended the piece where I have. I did consider including the sex between Mrs Beattie and Robert, but then thought it might just be another gratuitous round of gasping and clutching and humping, which seemed unnecessary.

For me, this scene has an element of romance; it's all about the shy, callow youth being initiated by the sexy, experienced older lady. What I envision happening next is a night of discovery for Robert and pleasure for Mrs Beattie. The following day he'll return the van to Dave and race straight back to Mrs Beattie's house for some more.

After that? Who knows.

Anyway, that's why it stops where it does.

Again, feedback is welcome and thank you for reading.