My Street Boy

That said, perhaps you can understand how my mind and feelings began to run when Eric moved in with me full time. He was a nice looking boy that I loved. When we went to bed at night he was just a paper thin wall away from me, and I could hear him masturbating and that got me doing it more than ever to myself.

The simple truth was I loved him and a got to lust for him as well. I knew he loved me, but he’d never made any sort of sexual approach to me, not even by innuendo. So what was I to do?

Being the older by twelve years, I decided that if anything was going to be done, I would be the doer. Eric, if he was interested in me sexually, would probably never make an approach, so I decided not to play any silly games; you know, getting caught in my undies or in the shower, stuff like that. I decided to go for the jugular and get it over one way or another.

He had just finished doing some of his study work and I’d been reading a library book about social upheavals in the twentieth century. He finished what he’d been doing and said, “I suppose it’s time for bed.”

I jumped in boots and all. “Eric, I’ve been thinking, how would you like to sleep with me?”

He stared at me for a full half minute, his face flushing. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“No, I said, “If you haven’t got it in mind to go to bed with anyone else what about with me?”

“You wouldn’t let me, you know…er…er…make love with you, would you?”

“That would be one thing we could do,” I responded, trying to sound hearty. “The other thing we could do would be sleep.”

“You mean you would let me do it with you, Frances?”

I softened down a bit because I could see the boy was confused.

“Darling, if you wanted to make love with me, I should like it very much. Would you like to?”

Oh God, yes Frances,” he burst out with. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more than that. I’ve wanted to for…ever since…ever since I started to…you know…puberty. I get horny just thinking about you.”

So that was what he fantasised on the other side of that bedroom wall!

I got a little jovial again. “There’s another thing about sleeping together, darling; it’s much warmer on a cold night.”

For all his bewildered pleasure he managed a little laugh at that, then rather shyly said; “There’s something I should tell you, Frances. I’ve never been with a woman, sexually, that is.”

I went to him and kissed him softy and said, “Don’t worry, my love, I can teach you, and once you’ve learned, it like when you’ve once learned how to ride a bicycle, you never forget.”

Even my little kiss had got the poor boy all hot and up came his young shaft, so I said, “Come on, let’s have our first night together.”

We went together to the bedroom and I undressed him. He made a fumbling attempt to undress me, but didn’t know his way around female attire, so I had to help out.

When he saw me naked he sort of whimpered, “You’re beautiful, Frances.”

I accepted the compliment without comment, but felt it was just the exaggerated statement of a boy seeing his first naked woman. I’m all right to look at, but “beautiful” is a bit over the top. Still, the Bard did say, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

I got him on to the bed and took control. I decided he needed a quick one because he was so worked up. We could linger and learn later.

I sat over him and lowered my sex organ onto his shaft. As he slid into me he was watching and gasping. It was really very sweet to see him so absorbed in what was happening to him, and I was relishing his length in me. As I anticipated a few brisk movements from me and he was groaning with his first spurt of semen into a woman.

Between his moans he kept telling me he loved me so I kept telling him quite truthfully, I loved him. My God did I love him!

As it happened it was just as well we loved each other. In all the years of getting Ed’s “stuff” as he called it, pumped into me, nothing ever happened. This young devil must have got me pregnant the first night, or soon after.

Once I got him started he couldn’t stop. Over the following days it got to be first thing on waking in the morning, when he came home from the college, then again in bed at night. For weeks it was never less than three times a day.

There was one thing that delighted me as much as anything else. When I summoned up the courage to show him my sex organ, he didn’t wince and say that it was “horrible” like Ed had done. He looked amazed and said, “That’s lovely, Frances”, and made no fuss about using his tongue on me.

When I told him I was going to have a baby he was somewhat crestfallen at first. I was disappointed because I would have liked him to be glad about it. Then I found out he was really worried because it would be at least a couple of years before he could bring in money to support us.

If possible I think I loved him even more for that. Lots of blokes would have grabbed their trousers and run if they were told the woman was going to have a kid by them, but not Eric.

Would you believe it, he asked me to marry him. I told him “No,” but he was a determined blighter and got quite insistent. I said I was too old for him and he came back with, “But not too old to have my baby!”

I was on the edge of telling him forcefully that if it was anyone’s baby it was mine, or at least ours, and not just his. Then I thought, “He’s got to have his bit of male ego,” so I let it pass.

Of course we ended up getting married, and as I write its six years on from our first love making. Eric earns big money as a chef. We don’t live in that street anymore. Instead we’ve got a house in the hills along with all those other who fled the town.

Just as well he earns big money; he’s got a mortgage to meet plus keeping me and the three children. He’s a glutton for punishment though, and wants us to have another baby, but I think I’ll pass on that one and keep quietly taking the pill.

On the other hand, he still wants me, not three times a day now, but every couple of days, and it does seem a pity to let all that seed from him go to waste, don’t you think?

Incidentally, he cooks us some marvellous meals.