Young Zoe

The moment my tongue found her clitoris and dragged softly across it, Zoe let out a loud, quavering sigh—the kind that might pour from a woman sinking into a steaming hot tub.

I swallowed her flavor. Pussy. All pussy, through and through.

Give it a moment, I thought. The mellow aftertaste was there.

Another second or two.

There it was!

Fuck me!

Sweet cherry.

I dove in.

Zoe hollered into her pillow.

I smiled, knowing I had her. The coveted female orgasm was sometimes easy, sometimes challenging. It depended on the woman. Every now and then one had to scout and toil to the extreme in order to learn how the woman worked and what she needed. Zoe was not one of those pain-in-the-ass types. Another minute or two and she was mine.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

I froze.

"Zoe?" a voice called from just past her door.

Her legs flew away from me, and she stood beside the bed with a look of absolute horror.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Can we talk?"

Her eyes went to me, terrified.

I mouthed, "You're changing!" Then, I mimicked putting on clothes.

"I'm changing—getting ready for bed. Give me a minute?"

"Okay, dear, I'll wait."

She looked at me again. Then, her presence of mind must have kicked-in. She said, "Mom, I need a few minutes. Look, I'll come to your room after I brush my teeth, okay?"

"Oh, okay."

We heard her Mom's footsteps recede and vanish.

Zoe sank to the floor, holding her heart.

I went to her. Kissing her cheek, I said, "I'll go."

She nodded.

I readied myself, made sure I had everything, and then scanned outside the window to make sure it was safe to roll.

I turned to her. "All clear."

She had pulled on her panties and shorts and was in the middle of slipping into her tank top. She pulled the lower hem down and said, "I'm sorry."

I drew up the window and looked back.

"Tomorrow?"

She nodded, smiling. "I'll call you."

"Bye, Zoe," I said, and I climbed out of her window, and began making my way back to my car.

I heard a voice behind me.

Turning, I saw her in the open window waving me back. I ran over.

We kissed.

She broke it and said, "Did you really like the taste of my va...my pussy?"

"Hell, yes."

She grinned. "Did I make you hard?"

I looked both ways. All clear, I quickly unbuckled my belt, unfastened my shorts, drew down the zipper, and showed her the evidence.

She reached out and touched it. Her eyes widened. Her hand snapped back to her heart the next instant. "Oh my gosh, that's hard!" she quickly blurted.

I smiled.

She smiled, too, but it seemed more like a smile of gratitude or, maybe, relief.

I kissed her and left, zipping and re-securing my shorts on the way. As I walked across the parking lot buckling my belt, I stopped completely. My hands fell to my side. The end of the belt dangled before me.

I realized that I looked like some kid running away from his girlfriend's house after almost getting caught by one of her parents.

Sounded about right.

The only difference? I was 36 years old.

***

I wasn't seeing someone. No, I had a girlfriend now.

I hadn't had a "girlfriend" since college.

Ridiculous.

Not only had I utterly failed by allowing myself to agree to this boyfriend-girlfriend crap, but I had done it solely because I wanted to taste Zoe's pussy again.

And I had.

My gosh, just the thought of her pussy was making me hard—the mere remembrance of how it looked, felt, and tasted. As much as those aspects excited me, it was also Zoe's reaction to my touches that now stirred me.

She really, really liked what I had done. Those big tits of hers were sensitive, and it had aroused her to have them touched, licked, and sucked. She had been very wet when I touched her, and her fluids kept coming when I had given her oral sex.

Zoe wasn't all ice-cold nerves. She had melted for me.

Zoe wasn't one of those referee-types, either—constantly on watch, always pulling themselves out of the moment to guard against sexual transgressions. No, she liked sex. It was a beautiful thing.

I liked the sounds she made. I liked how her body reacted to mine. I liked how I felt when I was near her. I liked how my cock absolutely adored her. Yeah, my cock loved Zoe.

There was no doubt about that, I thought, looking down at the newly sprung boner tenting the sheets of my bed.

The problem was that I had committed myself. There were now two options: break-up or marriage.

I guffawed in bed. Marriage!

No, it would be a break-up.

I shook my head in disgust. Idiot. I was going to have to break-up with an 18-year-old girl.

So, how the hell do I manage a break-up with Zoe?

Upon reflection, I decided it would have to be when the summer ended and she went off to college.

If she pushed back? If she was one of those possessive, crazy types?

I could tell her that my wife wanted to start over. Jess wanted us to be a family again for Scotty.

That might work.

Scotty.

Shit.

The moment I broke things off with Zoe, Scotty wouldn't be able to play with Cora anymore.

I pushed the fingers of both hands through my hair and sighed. What the fuck was I thinking, getting involved with the sister of my son's best friend, a girl half my age?

I remembered, then, how Zoe's ass felt in my hands, how it's curvature filled and softly pushed against the pads of my fingers. I remembered how thick and firm it felt.

***

She called at 9:00 am, sharp.

"Still want to come over?" I asked. "I'll pick up your favorite lunch, and then we have the entire house to ourselves—the hot tub, the pool, the playroom..."

She started laughing.

I continued, "...the big lounge in the basement, the shower, the master bedroom. You could spend the night. What do you think?"

She hesitated and then asked. "Won't—won't your neighbors see me? See my car parked there overnight? If I get out of my car alone won't they...I don't know...talk?"

"You don't think I have a plan, Zoe? Sheesh!"

"What's your plan?"

"Drive yourself to the Galleria Mall, and I'll pick you up. I'll take you back here and park in my garage."

"People might see me in your car, though."

"Wear sunglasses."

"Okay."

"Can you spend the night?"

"Tell Mom I'm at a friend's?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to?" she asked, and her voice sounded shy and nervous.

"To cuddle, Zoe. To wake up beside each other. Just that. I won't...I won't push things too far, too fast. You're my girlfriend. I take care of you; I don't use you. Yes, I want you to spend the night. I want to sleep with you in my arms."

"Okay."

"When?" I asked.

"Meet at the mall? Eleven?"

"The parking lot by Veronica's. Know where that is?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What's your favorite lunch?"

***

I bought a box of condoms on the way to get her.

Then, I wondered about my plan.

I was about to spend the next almost 24 hours with Zoe. Much as I wanted, it wasn't reasonable to think we could make out for the entire time. I was going to have to talk to her, maybe a lot. There weren't going to be kids around to divert our attention and give us a topic for conversation.

Her and me for a day.

We could swim a few times. Hot tub, too. There's a couple hours. Movie, a couple more. Two movies, hey, there's four hours. Sleeping takes care of seven or eight hours. Eating, that might be an hour.

That left about nine or ten hours.

Shit!

I could not eat pussy for nine hours. Not even Zoe's.

How the fuck do you talk to an eighteen-year-old girl for nine hours?

Maybe this was a really bad idea.

***

The pick-up went smoothly. She wore boat shoes, cut-off jean shorts and a red, sleeveless button-up shirt. She carried a little duffel bag.

We brought home her favorite pizza for lunch—sausage, pepperoni, and onion from Big Frank's. It wasn't what I would have picked, but I really liked it. I'd get it again.

We so gorged ourselves that I suggested we watch a movie and be sedentary for a while. She wanted me to pick, so I asked what kind she liked. Among other genres, she mentioned mysteries, so we streamed "Memento," which she hadn't ever seen.

We cuddled on the big basement lounger, holding hands and kissing a bit.

She loved the film—really loved it. In fact, watching her see the film was a bit like seeing it for the first time. We chatted and laughed about it for a few minutes after it ended.

She yawned and stretched on the lounger like a cat—deeply and languorously. Her breasts pushed out. Her back arched and her toes pointed. Her belly button peeked from under her shirt.

As if by instinct, I covered her navel with my lips, kissing, sucking, and wiggling my tongue in it.

Zoe squealed with laughter, clutching my head and pulling me away.

I fought against her grip enough to kiss her tummy, looking up at her deviously.

Her eyes scanned mine, and her smile slowly faded. She swallowed.

We stared at each other for a few seconds.

I pinched my eyebrows together in confusion. I opened my mouth to ask if she was okay.

She spoke before I could. Her voice warbled between clarity and a raspy whisper, "I'm too scared. I think...I think I need you to make me."

"Come again?"

She gulped. "I'm still scared. You need to make me do it."

"Do what?"

"Take it out."

"You...you mean my...?" I pointed toward my crotch.

She nodded, glassy-eyed.

I knew what needed to be said, but my mind rebelled and cursed—cursed this stupid, little bitch for being so timid. I have to be gentle and slow, my mind mockingly whined, because poor, little fat-assed Zoe's scared of cock.

What if, I wondered, I showed her anger—real anger, right now?

I bet I could fuck her if I did. I could scare her into it. The thought of losing our relationship might just drive her to desperation.

I hated her. Fuck me, I hated her.

I glanced at her.

Shit, she was cute. Even when she was sad like now. Fuck. I cleared my throat and told her in as gentle a voice as I could muster. "I don't want to make you do anything, Zoe. I want you to be comfortable."

She nodded.

In my head, I swore at myself, You fucking pussy. Then at Zoe, Stupid fucking cunt.

Then, I had an inspiration. "I'm not hard, yet. Maybe...maybe if you just see it when it's relaxed, maybe that might help," I suggested.

She wiped her eyes, sniffed, and nodded.

"I won't do anything," I added, "unless you want me to. I'll lay here, naked, beside you. You can think of me like a big doll."

She sat up, smiling down at me.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yeah."

I sat up and kissed her lips. Then, I said, "I'm your doll. I can't take off my own clothes." Then, I unfocused my eyes, stared through her, and collapsed backward like some lifeless hunk of flesh.

She giggled. "How about robot, instead? You're too big for me to undress by myself."

I nodded, saying, "As long as you call me 'Professor Ballsy McPenis.'"

She guffawed and snorted.

I remained still.

She said, "Come on Professor McPenis, let's get your shirt off."

I sat up, and together, we took off my shirt.

"Shorts, too, Professor."

I rose from the big love seat and unbuckled my belt. Then, I stopped. "Ballsy's programming," I announced, "prohibits him from going any further without human female assistance."

Zoe grinned and came to me on her knees. She unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, tugging them down. I stepped out.

"Lay down, Ballsy," Zoe said.

I did.

She snuggled beside me, and putting her head on my chest, she watched herself slip her thumb under my boxers and begin tugging them down over my hips.

I raised my ass off the love seat. Zoe slid my boxers to my knees.

"What makes it get hard?" she quietly asked.

"Blood flow."

"No, I mean, what turns you on?"

"Seeing, touching, or kissing your body. Being touched or kissed by you."

"Then, I'm going to use kisses," she declared, climbing onto all fours. She kissed my chest and looked at my cock. She did it again. She kissed my stomach and glanced. She put her lips on my belly button. She moved down to my hip and thigh. Every time she kissed, she checked my cock for activity.

It didn't take long.

She stopped, watching it grow. She used my right thigh as a pillow. Her left hand rested on my belly, occasionally rubbing a light circle upon it. Her eyes remained fixed.

"What does it feel like—to you, I mean?"

"Like a muscle, flexing very, very slowly."

"Oh, my gosh," she whispered as it rose off my belly before her eyes. She looked at me. "This is for me? Because of me?"

I smiled. "Yes."

"I'm sexy? Really?"

"Yes."

Her eyelids came together like little crescents, and her lips formed into a very serene, very Mona Lisa-like smile. "Thank you," she whispered, turning and kissing my thigh.

I relaxed because I liked the view: Zoe's face on my leg and her eyes watching my rock hard cock.

"What makes it go down?" she asked.

"Things that aren't sexy. Pain. Boredom. Cumming."

She briefly glanced at me after the last one. Then, she said, "Are you still my robot?"

"Yes."

"You have to do whatever I say?"

"Yes."

"Will you..." Her face turned pink, and she smiled and turned her face away from me, covering her mouth with her hand. "I don't want to say it."

I laid in silence.

She waited for me to ask, to pursue the issue, but I didn't.

She sighed with apparent exasperation. Her face began to turn red. She said, "Will you...masturbate? Jerk off for me?" The moment she uttered the words, she snorted and covered her face saying, "Oh, my gosh, that was hard to say!"

I smiled. "Yes, but it doesn't really work all that well without some inspiration—the sexier the better."

"Inspiration?"


"Something to see and imagine touching, kissing, or fucking."

"Tell me what you want."

"I'm the robot, Zoe. Not you." I said the words, and then I began to stroke myself.

She watched for a moment. Then, she asked, "Is that what feels best? That way?"

"It's how I do it if I need to."

Zoe scrutinized the grip and the motion.

I said, "If you don't feel like...like putting on a show for me, you could say things to me. Whisper in my ear kind of thing. That could also be inspiring."

She turned bright red and covered her mouth.

I laughed.

"Dirty talk?" she asked.

I nodded. "Come here. I'll give you an example."

She stretched out beside me, and I put my lips next to her ear. "You could say, 'I touch myself at night thinking about your cock.'"

"I can't say that!"

"But, try it," I offered.

She couldn't.

I turned to her. "Zoe, at night after you leave the house. I think about you, and my cock gets rock hard. It feels so good that I have to grab it and stroke it, and every moment, I'm thinking about your body. Touching it. Licking it. Fucking it until I hear you scream my name."

When I finished, I kissed her behind the ear and whispered, "My Zoe."

When I drew back, she was staring at me. She swallowed and whispered, "That was sexy, and I really, really super-liked it when you said, 'My Zoe.'"

"Your turn."

She hesitated.

"Come on. I'll like it just like you did."

She looked at my penis and said, "Your cock is..." She stopped. Shaking her head, she turned to me.

I was about to let her off the hook. Clearly, she was not ready for this.

But, she spoke. She said, "After you left last night, I touched myself, thinking about how you licked me, what your tongue felt like on my...my pussy."

"Did you cum?"

She nodded, and then I felt her hand on mine. Glancing down, I saw her fingers wrap around mine as I tugged myself. She followed my hand up and down.

I relaxed my grip, letting my hand fall away. Zoe's fingers hovered beside my erection. A beat passed, and then she lowered her index and middle fingers together, petting the underside of the shaft.

"It's warm," she remarked in a voice barely above a whisper. She gently squeezed it between her thumb and the same two fingers. "Oh, my gosh, that's super hard."

I looked at her, and she at me with wide eyes. We smiled. She turned back to the object of her curiosity.

Zoe took the shaft in hand, gripping it softly.

I drew a short breath.

She stroked it once, and I sighed with pleasure.

She turned to me, and she looked surprised. "That was right? It felt good?"

"Feels incredible."

She commenced a slow stroking motion.

I reached across my body and unbuttoned her shirt. Pulling the sides apart, the bra I had purchased for her came into view. I grinned at her. "Looks beautiful on you."

She smiled, whispering, "Surprise!"

I reached under her shirt to her back and unhooked the loops. Then, I drew one of her breasts free and took the nipple into my mouth while she stroked my cock.

Instantly, my body grew energized and warm. My cock throbbed in her hand.

Zoe gasped, not quite releasing her grasp, but definitely retracting a bit.

"Please don't stop," I said.

"I felt...something," she said. "It moved."

"Normal," I said.

Her fingers tentatively wrapped around it once more.

I dragged my tongue over her nipple and then pinched it between my lips before sucking on it as if it held some cherished nectar inside.

My cock flexed again, but this time Zoe continued.

I groaned.

Her pace quickened.

Letting the nipple fall away, I uttered, "I'm going to cum, Zoe. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

She moved as if to see it happen.

I looked, too, alternating between watching her fist ride up and down the shaft and her eyes eagerly take in the scene.

I pulled in a huge gulp of air and held it. Her grip had the exact right amount of pressure from each finger. Her pace seemed almost like she intuitively knew what I wanted. Are some girls, I wondered, just naturals?

As those last words crossed my mind, I gasped and watched three jets of cum leap from the tip in rapid succession. The second one reached as high as my chest, leaving a thin line of semen that cut across my right nipple.

Zoe voiced her shock as the remaining pulses of semen spilled from the tip and cascaded over her thumb and into my little hairs.

I closed my eyes, let out the breath I had been holding, and started laughing.

"What?" she asked, worried. "What's funny?"

I shook my head. "Not funny. Felt good. Felt great," I said, laughing and turning to her. "It's joy, Zoe. I'm happy." I kissed her, urging my tongue between her lips.

She broke the kiss to ask, "I was good?"

"Hell, yes."

The smile that unfurled on her face was victorious. She beamed with joy. Zoe looked like a person who had just come to realize that she had superpowers.

She screamed for joy and started laughing. She hugged me and the kissed my cheeks, my chin, my forehead, my nose, my lips, my neck. Everywhere, she planted kisses—tens of them, scores of them. All the while, she laughed.

She was about to kiss my chest when she saw the semen on my nipple. She stopped.

We looked at one another.

She grinned with confidence, and she pushed her tongue way, way out. Then, Zoe dragged her warm, wet tongue over the entire line of cum, scooping it up and swallowing it.

She blinked and remained stock-still. Her mouth opened slightly.

I waited, but she didn't say a word.

I said, "You don't have to like it right now, but I do want you to like it someday. Not just like it, but love it—the same way I love how you taste."

She didn't speak.

I went on. "It's okay if you hate it. You hate it?"

Still, she said nothing.

There was something I needed to say to Zoe—something important. I didn't know if it was the right time, but I started talking.

"I want to be with a woman who wants me, loves me—all of me, even my cum. I can touch you, lick you, and fuck you, Zoe, but my cum is the last thing I can give you. Sexually, it's who I am."