Thorilla
12-01-2008, 3:03 AM
David’s Friend Vivian, Ch 4
(My name is David Thornberry.
It happened when I was just 18 in 1958. I was alone in my parents’ house with Vivian, the 20 year old daughter of some neighbours. I had always thought that she was unworldly and I would have to coax her even into letting me see her knickers. She surprised me in her interest in sitting on my face and wanking me off. This is part four of my tale.)
***
Vivian yelled out, “The Can-can,” then pinned my face down once again.
I assumed that she had realised that I had filled the tissues with warm semen. It was difficult to tell what Vivian thought with her wide arse perched on my upturned chin and her damp knickers spread over my nose.
I managed to shake her off me for a second or two and asked her if she wanted to change her position as I thought that squatting may have been causing her knee pain.
“I’m OK as I am thank you now, shush and keep quiet while I watch my programme,” she said and lowered herself onto my face again, shaking her stiff nylon petticoats and skirt over me once more so that my head and upper body were largely concealed.
I clearly had merely been only a cause of irritation in her eyes and I stared up at her thighs and dark tan stockings which hovered within licking distance of my tongue.
I reached down to my penis and wiped it clean with a fresh tissue and fished out several more for orgasm number ten. My nostrils snorted up the heavy dense odours which emanated from Vivian’s vagina soaked knickers gusset. I was fairly certain that the young woman sitting on my face hadn’t realised just how wet she was, or how randy I felt.
Vivian seemed to be once again engrossed in her TV programme so I decided there and then that I would merely ‘jerk myself off’ using the underside of her arse, her cascading petticoats and the strong smell from between her legs as masturbatory aids.
In some ways I was expecting more from the girl but apart from actual penetration, which I had ruled out for many reasons, she was providing me with more than enough sexual stimulation to keep me gratified for the whole of the day, if not the week ahead. I was thinking that the mere memory of having Vivian spreading her lovely long legs over my face would make me ‘come’ by the bucket load.
Her TV programme ended and Vivian immediately stood up.
“I have to go to the toilet,” she said and I watched her long legs, under her dress and petticoats, walk across the room and disappear into the hall.
From my position flat on my back on the carpet I stared around the room. The lounge seemed like a vast cavernous cathedral inhabited by giantesses, well at least one and her name was Vivian. I smiled to myself and at the ridiculous position I was in. I felt rather self conscious lying in the centre of the room completely naked except for my shirt.
Goodness only knows what would have happened if my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had suddenly returned early. I felt slightly vulnerable and embarrassed. I thought if Vivian had changed her mind regarding sitting on my face I would appear pretty silly just lying there grinning insanely with my willy on view.
I heard Vivian return and moved my eyes towards the door and watched her walk towards me.
“I’ll just draw the curtains if you don’t mind,” she said switching on a table light. I nodded at her like a ventriloquist’s dummy. Again I felt very self conscious as I watched the hem of her dress sway from side to side as she darted about the room.
“There,” she said,”all nice and comfy Davy. Are you sure you don’t mind me sitting on your face? I find it quite comfortable, actually, you know,” she said with a reassuring smile.
“No, no, you go ahead, I don’t mind,” I replied in a casual, almost off hand, manner.
Inside however I was again shaking with excitement and watched spellbound as she straddled my face and shook out all her petticoats. I pushed back my head and waited for her to squat on my face. But instead of squatting she knelt on my shoulders and slid forward so that her now doubly damp knickers gusset was pushed firmly into my nose. With three or four graceful movements she spread her dress and underskirts over my head and once again I was plunged into a darkened world beneath her clothes.
“I hope you can breathe Davy,” said the young blonde woman above me. I had not enough strength to reply but felt thankful that I was once again savouring her natural scent at close quarters.
***
My Tenth Wank.
I grabbed a handful of tissues and began to wank furiously as she covered my face once again with her white and pink petticoats and pretty pale blue cotton dress. This time I was going to make my masturbation last as long as possible.
I tried to disregard the background noise from the television set which was now screening a nature programme.
Vivian seemed well and truly engrossed with its contents and I became resigned to her merely sitting on my face and not being interested in me as a person or a sexual partner. I felt like the ‘proverbial’ piece of furniture and had as much significance to her as any other chair or stool.
I lay beneath her dress for many minutes staring wide eyed at the layers of crisp net petticoat which lay above me and around me. I could almost smell the thin nylon where it lay against my features. Occasionally she would fidget or squirm on me or scratch her leg and I would hear the seductive sounds of nylon sliding smoothly over nylon. I stared at her stockings which appeared so dark and smooth compared with the coarse whiteness her of her stiff net petticoats.
Her soft firm thighs held my head rigidly in place so that I could not move to either side and I felt deliciously trapped under the heavy wide arse of this delightful 20-year old beautiful blonde haired girl.
It took me twenty minutes of relaxed, often wild, wanking to reach my climax. I breathed in Vivian’s natural scent with each erratic breath towards the end of my jerking and rammed my face savagely up under her as I ‘came’. Oddly she seemed not to react to my face being between her legs although the slow constant flow of her vaginal secretions through her knickers and onto my face told another story.
After ‘wank number ten’ I lay back gasping for breath with my heart beating like a machine gun. I felt completely and utterly ‘shagged out’ and now required time to recover. I thought that I had broken the British record regarding how many times an 18-year old male could ejaculate in a twelve hour period. I estimated that each wank had taken on average 1 hour 12 minutes to achieve. I felt like writing to someone with this fact but, like all schoolboy dreams, it remained impractical to achieve so let the thought drift from my head.
Two hours later I woke up still with my head beneath Vivian’s dress. I could tell by the smell of warm fresh urine that she had recently visited the lavatory and had gently reassumed her position sitting on my face without disturbing me. I still felt utterly drained and my balls and penis ached.
“Sorry if I disturbed you Davy but I had to go for a wee,” said the long legged girl straddling my nose. She swept all her crisp white and pink petticoats to one side and beamed down at me. I was too tired to masturbate so just lay there staring up at her and at her kind face.
“You didn’t disturb me at all and I’m glad I woke up and found you still sitting on my face,” I muttered and yawned as she knelt up, adjusted a suspender clip then knelt over me again.
She sat on my upper chest and I stared between her open legs, up her petticoats at the damp patch in her knickers. I lifted her buttocks up with both hands and strained my neck forwards and breathed in the strong scent of ‘aroused woman’ which emanated from her cunt.
“Oh fucking hell, good grief,” I whispered as I felt my penis stiffen once more.
My sleep had refreshed me sufficiently and now I was ‘raring to go’ once more.
“You are a big silly,” said Vivian ruffling my hair and settling her large arse once more on my face.
Again my head was between her legs and my face was swamped by crackling, swishing petticoats. My ears were gripped by her clammy soft young thighs and I could hear hardly anything of the television.
Once again I started wanking into a handful of tissues and began licking the underside of her thighs and arse and the buttock crease which lay between the two.
“That tickles,” she giggled and pulled my head brutally into her pubic area, almost stifling me of air.
I felt as if I was being smothered by her but kept wanking, this time more forcefully as if my very life depended on it.
The aroma of her urine soaked knickers was not unpleasant; in fact I couldn’t get enough of it. To tell the truth I found it exciting; the mere fact of being in her personal, private world under her skirt and petticoats drove me almost insane with lust. My wanking had reached fever pitch and my head thrashed about ferociously between her legs. It seemed as if I was ‘possessed’ by a lecherous lust which I just couldn’t satisfy.
“Hey Davy, are you alright?” asked the blonde girl pulling her dress aside. She stared down into my feral eyes which glinted insanely back at her. My unshaven face must have looked ‘bestial’ in comparison to her feminine underwear. My stubbly chin kept scratching her stockings where they gripped her thighs and were supported by her suspenders.
She threw her dress over me once more and rearranged her petticoats so that I was evenly covered. All around my head I felt the crisp nylon frou-frou textures of her underskirts covering me while I jerked off frantically and rhythmically.
By now I was on the ‘short strokes’ and slowed things down in order to delay the final millisecond of my climax. Vivian must have been bemused by the slobbering, twitching, shaking head between her legs. Fortunately she could not see me squeeze my eyes tightly together as if in agony. Her petticoats stifled my groans and moans but I roared out a big “Yesss,” as I emptied my testicles with five buttock-clenching thrusts which burst through the Kleenex tissues and splattered semen over my stomach and shirt.
Vivian remained sitting on my face watching the television and now it appeared very late and clearly time for bed.
***
Mrs. Lloyd.
When my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd returned the following day they would not have had a clue what Vivian and I had been up to the previous day. I had made sure that both beds looked ‘slept in’ although Vivian and I had shared my bed all night and most of the morning. I had already ejaculated five times that morning including twice in Vivian’s mouth.
We had both taken a shower together and enjoyed the early part of the afternoon walking around the village and along the lanes.
We were surprised to return to find the Lloyd’s Volvo already parked on the gravel drive.
“Hello you two,” shouted my mother as we approached, “Did you have a good time?” My face, unfortunately, turned beetroot red which attracted Mrs. Lloyd’s attention.
It was as if the word ‘GUILT’ had been tattooed in bright red neon ink across my forehead.
Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes pierced mine and she knew instantly that I had trespassed on her daughter’s virtue. I was almost sure that she could read my thoughts; it was as if I were telling her that her daughter had sat on my face solidly for five hours the previous night while I wanked repeatedly, one orgasm following the other.
“I’d like to talk to you alone young man,” she said in a whisper. “Tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock when Vivian and my husband will not be at home.”
I waved Vivian off and stared at Mrs. Lloyds shapely legs as she swung them into the Volvo’s capacious foot well. Her eagle eyes bore into me as I watched them drive off. My parents appeared to be blissfully unaware of Vera Lloyd’s odd behaviour towards me, and seemed more interested in resting after the long journey.
***
At the Lloyd’s House
I arrived at the Lloyd’s house at two o’clock precisely. I rang the doorbell and listened out for the clatter of high heels which would announce Mrs. Lloyd’s arrival. I heard the familiar sound on the wide hallway floor. The Lloyd’s house was one of the largest in the village and their floor was made of terrazzo tiles set in a black and white chequerboard pattern. I had always thought that their home was very posh and everything about it was so stylish and opulent.
“Come in David,” said Mrs. Lloyd opening one of a pair of outer oak doors.
I immediately noticed her perfume which seemed so intense and overpowering. I felt dirty and slovenly wearing just my jeans and t-shirt and old sports shoes.
She led me to the lounge which enjoyed extensive views of the local countryside through its vast French windows.
I was told to sit opposite her on one of the two sofas which faced each other and which were positioned to each side of the large fireplace.
“I won’t offer you tea as what I am about to say won’t take long,” she said and I noticed her immaculate makeup and bouffant hair, as was the fashion in 1958.
“I knew immediately, when we arrived home yesterday, that something had happened between you and Vivian. I could tell straightaway that something was not right. You may call it female intuition but I prefer to ascribe it to the close bond enjoyed by a mother and daughter.”
Mrs. Lloyd’s English was so precise. She was precise in everything, her home, her clothes, her garden; everything about Vera Angela Lloyd was immaculate and perfect. I was now beginning to understand that she thought I had sullied her daughter’s reputation, or worse still, deflowered her.
“You can tell me what happened as I have already heard Vivian’s side of the story,” she said with a slow calculating manner.
“Well if you have heard Vivian’s side of the story you will not want to hear mine, I said with a certain amount of cockiness.
“So there is a story, is there?” said the woman, and I saw that I was being led into a trap.
“Well what I meant by ‘story’ was just the events of the day; there is very little to relate,” I said trying to be precise in my meaning. Unfortunately I turned scarlet red and Mrs. Lloyd’s predatory eyes stared through my brain and into the back of my skull.
“I know all about Vivian being forced to…err…sit on your…err…face while you masturbated in front of her,” she said, this time raising her voice in anger.
I shook visibly and pleaded with her not to tell my parents. My mother would go ‘ballistic’ if she ever found out.
“Well as far as I can tell you did not steal her virginity but she is very upset at the degradation of your obscene acts you forced her to perform,” said the woman wearing a black knee-length shirtwaister dress.
I stared horrified at the woman and at the hem of her dress where a lacy hem of her petticoat lay revealed.
“I am, I am very sorry Mrs. Lloyd,” I blurted, looking shamefaced and full of panic. “I won’t ever ask Vivian again, and I promise I’ll never see her again if you would please not tell my parents,” I went on and almost considered bursting into tears if it would prevent my mum and dad from finding out.
“David,” said the woman, who was at least thirty years older than me. “You will have to do me a great favour, or else, rest assured, your parents will hear from me. I shall tell them every detail of your disgusting perversions and what you did to my daughter,” said Mrs. Lloyd with a triumphant glint in her eyes.
I sensed that I was to carry out some sort of service for her and noticed that she stared at the bulge in my jeans. Suddenly I had the awful thought that perhaps Mrs. Lloyd was going to get me to do things to her, just as I had done things to her daughter. I was to be proved correct.
***
With Mrs. Lloyd in the Guest Bedroom
Mrs. Lloyd took me by the hand and led me upstairs. I had never explored their home, even when I visited Vivian when we were much younger. Mrs. Lloyd did not like children playing upstairs with their dirty shoes so they always had to play in the conservatory.
I had already taken off my shoes and followed her somewhat nervously into the guest bedroom. I had always assumed that guest bedrooms were always small and simply furnished and were merely ‘dumping grounds’ for surplus possessions. The Lloyd’s guestroom was, however, a sumptuous room dominated by a large double bed.
Mrs. Lloyd pulled back the bedclothes and revealed the pale blue under sheet and pillows.
“You will get undressed and lay on the bed face up, with your feet on the pillows, understood?” said Mrs. Lloyd in her perfectly clipped English.
She left me on my own and I slowly stripped off, hesitating when I got down to my underpants. I saw my reflection in the long full-length mirror. I looked wiry just standing there wearing only my glasses. My penis, I thought, however appeared massive in its semi erect condition. My mind raced at being naked in front of Mrs. Lloyd. What would she ask me to do? Did she know that I was a virgin? Not even in my wildest dreams had Mrs. Lloyd ever been the subject of my erotic desires.
I lay on the bed as she had ordered. I have to admit that although I was worried that Mrs. Lloyd would tell my parents about my use of Vivian as a ‘wanking aid’ I was intrigued to know what Mrs. Lloyd intended me to do to her.
She returned and immediately fixed me with her eyes. Her hawk-like stare seemed hostile, almost predatory, in its intensity. I noticed that she was carrying a bundle of leather belts and dog leads.
“You will allow me to tie you down. Is that understood young man?” said Mrs. Lloyd with a lecherous sneer.
I clearly had little choice and watched her link together the various metal buckles and leather leads to make long inflexible tethers which she attached to my wrists and ankles. She pulled their free ends to all four corners of the bed and buckled them to the under frame and bed legs.
“I hope that they aren’t too tight for you?” she asked, and I was thankful that there was a small amount of ‘give’.
“There now, we’re all nice and cosy aren’t we?” said Vivian’s mother stroking my penis as she sat on the bed next to me.
Needless to say my penis had reached gigantic proportions and was long enough; it seemed, to touch the ceiling.
“So this is what you displayed to my daughter was it?” said the forty seven year old wearing her black full shirtwaister dress.
I suddenly visualised her extracting a pair of scissors from her handbag and…well. I looked at her and panicked and blurted. “Please Mrs. Lloyd, don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything you want but don’t hurt me, I don’t want you to cut it off, please, please not that,” I said close to tears.
“Well David you are getting worked up, and about nothing too, I might add,” said the perfumed woman with her immaculate makeup. “I do not intend to harm you in any way. On the contrary I hope that you and…err…I will…err…please each other for the afternoon,” and with that she kissed me full on my lips, and on my ears.
She dragged her tongue down my neck and onto my chest where she teased my nipples. I groaned with pleasure and felt my penis stir and become even larger, if that was at all possible.
Mrs. Lloyd’s greying hair was almost in my face as she licked her way back up my neck and over my face and ears.
“You taste very nice David,” she hissed, then licked her way down the centre line of my chest and stopped at my navel.
She forced her tongue into this fleshy depression as I squirmed with both pleasure and agony at the sensations which I had never experienced before.
The ties felt surprisingly tight as I fought to escape her tongue. For some reason I felt uncomfortably ticklish so groaned and flinched. She laughed at me and squeezed my testicles. All of a sudden I felt her hot breath on my shaft.
“Oh my God, Mrs. Lloyd,” I spluttered.
Then she took my erection into her mouth and began milking me. I had not been prepared for this and wondered whether the middle-aged woman knew that her daughter had done this to me during our day together. Perhaps she was jealous? Perhaps Mr. Lloyd had been neglecting her sexually speaking?
None of this mattered at the time and I reveled at being sucked off by this prim and proper friend of my parents. No matter how hard I tugged at the belts and dog leads I could not extract my hands, and I couldn’t touch Mrs. Lloyd or get my fingers into her clothes.
“You can ‘come’ in my mouth if you wish,” said Vivian’s mother wiping saliva off her chin where it had gathered and dribbled onto my thighs.
She squeezed my balls and laughed to herself. She flashed her eyes at me and continued her sucking and licking. To be honest I found her the most sexually attractive woman I had ever met; she appeared to be ten times more experienced than Vivian, which I suppose went without saying but also it was the fact that she was so mature, and I was …well…young, and knew practically nothing about sex.
“Oh wow, wow Mrs. Lloyd,” I groaned as I felt semen gather at the base of my shaft. “I’m almost there, don’t stop,” I squealed as I tried to delay the inevitable.
Then it happened. I shut my eyes and held back. I waited until I reached the final second when the pressure became intolerable. Then I exploded inside her and pumped out five long slurps of warm creamy slime into her mouth. Her sucking became more intense and I felt her ‘vacuum up’ every remnant of semen from my penis. I even felt her suck semen from the very centre of my urethra. All these sensations felt so new.
I lay back panting and watched my parents’ friend wipe her mouth with a tissue and then smile at me like a tigress having caught and eaten its prey.
“Now it’s time for you to pleasure me, don’t you think David?” said Mrs. Lloyd standing up.
***
My Face under Mrs. Lloyd’s Dress
I wondered what Mrs. Lloyd had in mind. I had imagined that she might have decided to ‘impale’ herself on my penis and ride me. I had read in dirty magazines at school that women liked to be able to control the speed and intensity during fucking and this was the best position for them.
“Take off your glasses David, here let me take them from you,” she said and placed them on the bedside table. Now I understood what I had to do; she was clearly going to sit on my face and get me to tongue her between her legs.
“Well if my daughter can enjoy the pleasure of having a boy’s head between her legs then so can I,” said Mrs. Lloyd, clearly unperturbed at having an 18-year old, young enough to be her son lying naked on her bed.
“I’ll try not to squash you, young man,” said the slim woman lifting her dress. I now saw her clothes in a new light. No longer was she just Mrs. Lloyd wearing her black knee-length day dress but she was Mrs. Lloyd the seductress, temptress and whore.
“Oh wow,” I whimpered as she swung her leg over me and straddled my chest and smoothed her dress around, and over, me.
For a split second I had seen her underwear. Her white nylon slip was wide and flared and trimmed with deep lacy scallops; her dark brown stockings were supported by white plain nylon suspenders with metal fasteners; she also wore white French knickers finished with wide lacy scallops to match her petticoat.
I felt as if my head was bursting with excitement at the thought of where my face was to be placed. Mrs. Lloyd was happy just to kneel astride my chest with her knees touching my cheeks. My chin rested against the hem of her dress and I could feel her body heat spread over my warm body. Her clothes made my torso tingle and shiver as I felt the smooth coolness of nylon scratch against me.
“Do you like my stockings,” she suddenly asked and slid up her dress to reveal her thighs as far as the dark brown welts. I strained my head to obtain a better view. Her legs were perfect, just like Vivian’s and I marveled at their shapeliness and fullness.
“Yes, yes they are very nice,” I spluttered feeling my penis recover and roll into an upright position along my belly. I felt a small dribble of semen spill from its tip and was unable to tell whether it was from the remnants of my previous orgasm or whether it was precum.
“I put them on especially for you David, as I guessed you’d prefer dark stockings,” she said and looked at me as if to tell me that Vivian has divulged my penchant for black stockings.
“I don’t own any black stockings so I hope that these will do,” she winked at me in a slightly insane manner and I stared back grinning like an idiot. I watched her smooth her dress against her body as if to check that her figure was acceptable for her young visitor. I looked at her with fascination as she undid the lower three buttons of her shirtwaister dress.
“We want plenty of space for movement don’t we?” she whispered and then undid the two top buttons. I could now see the lacy top of her bra or it may have been her slip. I noticed as she moved that there were two sets of shoulder straps so she must have been wearing a full slip.
Mrs. Lloyd took off her shiny waist belt and threw it on the floor and then announced that she was ready.
She knelt up and shuffled her knees onto, then over, my shoulders at the same time opening her thighs. Again I saw her French knickers which were very generously fashioned to say the least. All the overlapping white lacy scallops were so loose that I could already see glimpses of pubic hair beneath.
I groaned with sheer pleasure and adoration as she lifted her arse off my neck and placed it over my chin. At the same time she rearranged her skirt and wide slip around my head so that my face was well and truly imprisoned under her petticoats. My wrists felt sore. I dearly wanted to caress her curvaceous buttocks and wank at the same time but I could not, and felt somewhat cheated by her.
She placed her full body weight on my face and my nose pushed its way tightly into her loose French knickers. I smiled inwardly at being in such a warm erotic atmosphere, hidden amongst her underwear and dress.
Her odours surrounded me and I noticed that they were several times more intense than Vivian’s. I wondered whether older women smelled differently and imagined her to be like fine wine, improving with age. Mrs. Lloyd’s knickers were full of pungent aromas, musky and spicy, both sweet and stale. I picked out the smell of cunt which pervaded the narrow airless space between her legs. I also breathed in her expensive perfume combined with that of urine. I sucked up lungfulls of this heady mixture and as I did so I felt my heavy penis extent to its maximum length and girth.
I remained inert under Mrs. Lloyds skirt until I heard her tell me to ‘lick her out’. I watched her kneel up from the bed and saw her petticoat slide inwards as she pushed her hand under her knickers and pulled the leg to one side. There, briefly, I saw her glistening lips waiting for my tongue.
“Ready now David,” she cooed and sat squarely on my face again.
I now felt her engorged outer lips over mine. They felt colder than I had expected and more wrinkled. Immediately I had wormed my tongue between them and up into her moist channel. I felt her buttocks flinch slightly as I wriggled my tongue further up into her.
“Ooh, yesss,” she hissed somewhere above me
I could hardly hear her because my ears were buried under her fleshy thighs and underwear. I moved my tongue in and out of her hairy orifice, flicking it along the inner walls of her outer lips and under the hood which protected her clitoris. My experiences with Vivian were now paying off. I knew how to ‘pleasure’ Mrs. Lloyd and I was now determined to do so. I felt as if I had to prove to her that I could do what was expected and in a warped frame of mind I felt that I wished to ‘earn’ my apology regarding her daughter.
Her petticoat rasped against the smooth nylon of her stockings. It set off little crackles of static. Her full weight bore down on me and my head was pushed firmly into the mattress beneath the under sheet. I have to admit that I could hardly breathe except through the loose nylon of her knickers which lay stuck to my nostrils. In the darkened space beneath her black dress and white nylon slip my head felt deliciously trapped. I remembered Vivian doing this to me and now wondered whether ‘facesitting’ was a family trait and whether she had inherited the desire from her mother. Either way I was enjoying every second lying on my back naked with Mrs. Lloyd sitting on my face.
I only wished that she had not strapped me to the bed as my stiff penis flailed around aimlessly seeking sweet relief. I would have gladly paid Mrs. Lloyd anything to untie my right hand.
“Faster David, if you please,” grunted Mrs. Lloyd as she began jerking herself rhythmically against my nose and mouth. I slid my tongue up to her clitoris and probed and prodded at it as if it were my only raison d’être. We established a slow tempo with my tongue sliding up and down her cleft and circling her clitoris.
“Firmer on my clitty,” she barked at me sliding her well lubricated lower lips backwards and forwards over my nose.
After several minutes of solid tonguing Mrs. Lloyd’s grunting became louder, coarser and more urgent. Her pelvic jerks and thrusts became more forceful and painful.
I pulled on the tethers and tried to resist her wilder movements as she wrenched my neck to and fro. All of a sudden she grabbed the top of my head through her dress and I was forced to remain static while she slid her cunt over my nose, mouth and chin. She appeared to be seeking the perfect position for her clitoris to jerk against my facial contours as if she were trying to scratch an elusive ‘itch’
For me it was like being tossed in a stormy sea as her movements were so exaggerated and furious. Her hips thrashed around wildly as she wiped her dribbling smelly orifice all over my face. The gusset of her French knickers was completely sodden with her vaginal secretions seeped steadily out and into my nostrils and eyes. The air under her petticoat was now stagnant and stank strongly of cunt.
I felt as if I wouldn’t survive her onslaught; every sinew of my neck felt sore as she slid her vaginal opening savagely up and down my face. I found myself closing my eyes as if I was enduring some terrible punishment. All around me her thighs, stockings, suspenders and petticoat threshed about in a blur of frantic movement. As nylon slid quickly over rustling nylon I withdrew my painful tongue and attempted to lick at only whatever was within reach. Mrs. Lloyd clearly did not approve of what I had done.
“Get that fucking tongue up me you shit,” spat the middle aged woman, now clearly completely out of control.
She gripped my head and levered if of the bed thrusting her arse downwards. Suddenly I found my lips glued to her vagina and now my tongue and her cunt were again united.
“For fuck’s sake move it,” she shouted at me clamping my head firmly between her hands.
I pushed my tongue over her most sensitive part and she grunted approval. I felt my face being shaken violently again as she extracted her sexual gratification from the sticky features of my face. I lost count as to how many times she jerked her clitoris over my nose and mouth. I managed to keep up with her movements only with superhuman effort ensuring that my tongue remain in contact with her clitoris as far as was physically possible.
“That’s wonderful,” she screamed as she pumped her pelvis brutally against my face.
Soon I was almost passing out with pain and I prayed that she would soon reach her orgasm but Mrs. Lloyd seemed to take an age to satisfy herself.
“I’m almost there,” she screeched then speeded up her thrusts to breakneck speed.
I lay there enduring the torture until she stopped and pushed down on me, suffocating me under her. Her thighs quivered and twitched as I felt her buttocks tighten then something inside her juddered.
I pushed my tongue deeply up her and then I felt it. It was like a tidal wave of miniature muscular pulsations which gripped my tongue then slowly passed. I was thankful she had orgasmed as I felt I just could not have withstood any more of her violent hip jerks.
I was so busy ‘servicing’ Vera Lloyd that I hadn’t noticed that my penis had been dribbling precum on my stomach. I felt the woman twist her trunk as she turned to look behind her. She evidently noticed the colourless fluid as she said, “Oh David, have we been neglecting you?”
I nodded and gurgled a pitiful “Yes,” from under her dress and between her legs. Mrs. Lloyd’s thighs were sticky with sweat and I found it difficult to breathe. Her French knickers were completely sodden and my mouth was filled with stray pubic hair. Mercifully Mrs. Lloyd slid off me and I gulped in cool fresh air.
“Goodness me we are in a mess aren’t we?” said Vivian’s mother staring down at me as she shook her dress out and adjusted her stockings. I noticed that Mrs. Lloyd’s hair was sticky with sweat and she had an unkempt lock falling across her forehead.
“I must look a mess too,” I said and struggled to free myself from the ties.
“Not just yet David, I need to go to the toilet and wee, but I’ll be back soon,” said the middle aged housewife old enough to be my mother.
I heard her put her shoes on and stared up at the floral wallpaper as she walked across the landing. Her footsteps sounded very aggressive and menacing but for some strange reason I found myself experiencing a huge ‘hard-on’. Even the sound of the lavatory flushing made me stiffen noticeably. I looked down the bed and watched my erection grow to enormous proportions, or so it seemed.
Her high heels clunked across the landing as she re entered the bedroom. “That’s better; now we can sort you out young man can’t we?” she said in a very casual manner standing at the side of the bed slipping her shoes off again.
In my naked state, tied to the bed with the world’s largest erection on display I began to feel vulnerable. For some unknown reason I pictured Mrs. Lloyd with a large kitchen knife and wondered why she hadn’t untied me.
“Now it’s my turn to ‘wank’ you off, or whatever youngsters call it nowadays,” she said and grinned at me.
“Well if you untie me maybe I can save you the effort?” I remarked, eager to extract myself, and masturbate myself into oblivion.
“No David, I insist,” said the woman wearing her black dress and dark brown stockings.
She sat on the bed then straddled my chest facing my feet. Very gingerly she lifted her arse and backed herself over me and sat squarely on my face.
“Mrs. Lloyd you have…” but her buttocks stopped me in mid sentence. I was going to remark on the fact that she had removed her knickers and that her bottom looked really delectable.
Once again I was well and truly trapped under her white nylon slip and black dress. Her hind quarters seemed to mould themselves to my face as my nose was rammed into her anal sphincter. She smelled strongly of urine and had clearly wiped away the sexual secretions that had built up earlier.
“Do you like having your head up inside my dress David?” said Mrs. Lloyd, not expecting an answer from the eighteen year old under her heavy buttocks. If I could have answered I would have confirmed that I did enjoy being sat on but would have preferred not to be tied up.
I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to do so I licked her perineum and felt the soft flesh between her legs with my tongue.
“That tickles but I like it,” said the woman astride my face who squirmed deliciously over me.
“Do you like it slow or fast?” Mrs. Lloyd asked and I assumed she meant masturbation. I tried to reply but it was almost impossible to speak. She lifted her arse off me for a split second and I yelled out “Fast ple….” Then I was swamped again by female flesh.
This time she pulled her arse cheeks apart and bore down on me pinching my nostrils between her buttocks as she let go. I could hardly breathe but found that my penis stiffened once again to what appeared to be gigantic dimensions.
“Oh David you are such a ‘big’ boy,” said my captor as she gripped the root of my shaft. I was completely at Mrs. Lloyds mercy and felt utterly overpowered and unable to move, and only just able to breathe.
If anyone at school had told me that I was to strip naked, allow myself to be tied down to a bed then the mother of a friend sit on my face while wanking me off I would have thought them mad. But here I was with my face up the bum crack of a middle aged woman with her dress and petticoat covering my upper body.
“Ready?” said the woman tugging furiously at my foreskin. I groaned incoherently and abandoned myself to the ‘pleasures of the flesh’.
Under her dress the atmosphere was hot and sweaty and soon I detected the now familiar smell of Mrs. Lloyd’s cunt. I couldn’t have thought of a more erotic situation except, that is, actual intercourse. Mrs. Lloyd was indeed skilled at milking and her thin long fingers knew exactly where to apply pressure and what speed was needed.
Soon I was deliberately trying to hold back. My tongue circled her anus and she clenched her buttocks in response.
“That really tickles but don’t stop,” she giggled like a schoolgirl.
Her hand-wanking increased in tempo and pressure until I couldn’t take any more. I felt the familiar warmth of semen gather for expulsion then I groaned.
“Aaauugh,” I moaned but my sounds were muffled by her warm cheeks and layers of clothing.
I jerked out five huge torrents of semen and felt it flood over Mrs. Lloyd’s fingers.
“Good boy, what a nice big fountain.” Said the woman sitting on my face.
I lay there and watched her kneel up, swing her legs off the bed then wipe my penis with a crisp white lace trimmed handkerchief. She untied my wrists, and then my ankles and I sat up and surveyed the room, looking and feeling completely ‘shagged-out’. I sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands. My neck ached and so did my penis.
Mrs. Lloyd put her shoes back on and stood in front of me so that my face touched her black dress. She lifted it up, then her petticoat and threw them over my head so that I stared at her hairy ‘triangle’ framed by her suspenders and dark brown stockings.
I licked her exposed thighs above the tops of her stockings and she pulled me into her and parted her legs. Within seconds I was kneeling on the floor in front of her with my tongue up her vagina and her white nylon slip crackling with static as she jerked herself wildly up and down my face. Soon she was groaning and screeching. I continued, seeking out her clitoris with my tongue and with my thumb wedged up her too. All of a sudden Mrs. Lloyd swore and grabbed my head through her clothing.
“For fuck’s sake harder you little shit,” said the woman, now completely out of control.
I ploughed on until I felt her body stiffen, then shudder, quiver then pulsate.
“Fucking yes, yes, yesss,” she hissed as if she had been hit by an express train. Her knees buckled as she reached her orgasm and my face was covered in sweat. The pulsations swiftly died away and Mrs. Lloyd lifted her dress and backed away from me. Her hair was disheveled again and she appeared to be close to tears.
We tidied up once I had dressed then went downstairs for a well earned cup of tea.
“I will not mention the episode with Vivian again only on one condition,” said the middle aged housewife. “I can probably guess what that is Mrs. Lloyd,” I said smirking insanely at her.
“You want me to provide a little ‘service’ for you now and again? Is that what you meant?”
“Absolutely correct David,” said Mrs. Lloyd, “Absolutely correct.”
(My name is David Thornberry.
It happened when I was just 18 in 1958. I was alone in my parents’ house with Vivian, the 20 year old daughter of some neighbours. I had always thought that she was unworldly and I would have to coax her even into letting me see her knickers. She surprised me in her interest in sitting on my face and wanking me off. This is part four of my tale.)
***
Vivian yelled out, “The Can-can,” then pinned my face down once again.
I assumed that she had realised that I had filled the tissues with warm semen. It was difficult to tell what Vivian thought with her wide arse perched on my upturned chin and her damp knickers spread over my nose.
I managed to shake her off me for a second or two and asked her if she wanted to change her position as I thought that squatting may have been causing her knee pain.
“I’m OK as I am thank you now, shush and keep quiet while I watch my programme,” she said and lowered herself onto my face again, shaking her stiff nylon petticoats and skirt over me once more so that my head and upper body were largely concealed.
I clearly had merely been only a cause of irritation in her eyes and I stared up at her thighs and dark tan stockings which hovered within licking distance of my tongue.
I reached down to my penis and wiped it clean with a fresh tissue and fished out several more for orgasm number ten. My nostrils snorted up the heavy dense odours which emanated from Vivian’s vagina soaked knickers gusset. I was fairly certain that the young woman sitting on my face hadn’t realised just how wet she was, or how randy I felt.
Vivian seemed to be once again engrossed in her TV programme so I decided there and then that I would merely ‘jerk myself off’ using the underside of her arse, her cascading petticoats and the strong smell from between her legs as masturbatory aids.
In some ways I was expecting more from the girl but apart from actual penetration, which I had ruled out for many reasons, she was providing me with more than enough sexual stimulation to keep me gratified for the whole of the day, if not the week ahead. I was thinking that the mere memory of having Vivian spreading her lovely long legs over my face would make me ‘come’ by the bucket load.
Her TV programme ended and Vivian immediately stood up.
“I have to go to the toilet,” she said and I watched her long legs, under her dress and petticoats, walk across the room and disappear into the hall.
From my position flat on my back on the carpet I stared around the room. The lounge seemed like a vast cavernous cathedral inhabited by giantesses, well at least one and her name was Vivian. I smiled to myself and at the ridiculous position I was in. I felt rather self conscious lying in the centre of the room completely naked except for my shirt.
Goodness only knows what would have happened if my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had suddenly returned early. I felt slightly vulnerable and embarrassed. I thought if Vivian had changed her mind regarding sitting on my face I would appear pretty silly just lying there grinning insanely with my willy on view.
I heard Vivian return and moved my eyes towards the door and watched her walk towards me.
“I’ll just draw the curtains if you don’t mind,” she said switching on a table light. I nodded at her like a ventriloquist’s dummy. Again I felt very self conscious as I watched the hem of her dress sway from side to side as she darted about the room.
“There,” she said,”all nice and comfy Davy. Are you sure you don’t mind me sitting on your face? I find it quite comfortable, actually, you know,” she said with a reassuring smile.
“No, no, you go ahead, I don’t mind,” I replied in a casual, almost off hand, manner.
Inside however I was again shaking with excitement and watched spellbound as she straddled my face and shook out all her petticoats. I pushed back my head and waited for her to squat on my face. But instead of squatting she knelt on my shoulders and slid forward so that her now doubly damp knickers gusset was pushed firmly into my nose. With three or four graceful movements she spread her dress and underskirts over my head and once again I was plunged into a darkened world beneath her clothes.
“I hope you can breathe Davy,” said the young blonde woman above me. I had not enough strength to reply but felt thankful that I was once again savouring her natural scent at close quarters.
***
My Tenth Wank.
I grabbed a handful of tissues and began to wank furiously as she covered my face once again with her white and pink petticoats and pretty pale blue cotton dress. This time I was going to make my masturbation last as long as possible.
I tried to disregard the background noise from the television set which was now screening a nature programme.
Vivian seemed well and truly engrossed with its contents and I became resigned to her merely sitting on my face and not being interested in me as a person or a sexual partner. I felt like the ‘proverbial’ piece of furniture and had as much significance to her as any other chair or stool.
I lay beneath her dress for many minutes staring wide eyed at the layers of crisp net petticoat which lay above me and around me. I could almost smell the thin nylon where it lay against my features. Occasionally she would fidget or squirm on me or scratch her leg and I would hear the seductive sounds of nylon sliding smoothly over nylon. I stared at her stockings which appeared so dark and smooth compared with the coarse whiteness her of her stiff net petticoats.
Her soft firm thighs held my head rigidly in place so that I could not move to either side and I felt deliciously trapped under the heavy wide arse of this delightful 20-year old beautiful blonde haired girl.
It took me twenty minutes of relaxed, often wild, wanking to reach my climax. I breathed in Vivian’s natural scent with each erratic breath towards the end of my jerking and rammed my face savagely up under her as I ‘came’. Oddly she seemed not to react to my face being between her legs although the slow constant flow of her vaginal secretions through her knickers and onto my face told another story.
After ‘wank number ten’ I lay back gasping for breath with my heart beating like a machine gun. I felt completely and utterly ‘shagged out’ and now required time to recover. I thought that I had broken the British record regarding how many times an 18-year old male could ejaculate in a twelve hour period. I estimated that each wank had taken on average 1 hour 12 minutes to achieve. I felt like writing to someone with this fact but, like all schoolboy dreams, it remained impractical to achieve so let the thought drift from my head.
Two hours later I woke up still with my head beneath Vivian’s dress. I could tell by the smell of warm fresh urine that she had recently visited the lavatory and had gently reassumed her position sitting on my face without disturbing me. I still felt utterly drained and my balls and penis ached.
“Sorry if I disturbed you Davy but I had to go for a wee,” said the long legged girl straddling my nose. She swept all her crisp white and pink petticoats to one side and beamed down at me. I was too tired to masturbate so just lay there staring up at her and at her kind face.
“You didn’t disturb me at all and I’m glad I woke up and found you still sitting on my face,” I muttered and yawned as she knelt up, adjusted a suspender clip then knelt over me again.
She sat on my upper chest and I stared between her open legs, up her petticoats at the damp patch in her knickers. I lifted her buttocks up with both hands and strained my neck forwards and breathed in the strong scent of ‘aroused woman’ which emanated from her cunt.
“Oh fucking hell, good grief,” I whispered as I felt my penis stiffen once more.
My sleep had refreshed me sufficiently and now I was ‘raring to go’ once more.
“You are a big silly,” said Vivian ruffling my hair and settling her large arse once more on my face.
Again my head was between her legs and my face was swamped by crackling, swishing petticoats. My ears were gripped by her clammy soft young thighs and I could hear hardly anything of the television.
Once again I started wanking into a handful of tissues and began licking the underside of her thighs and arse and the buttock crease which lay between the two.
“That tickles,” she giggled and pulled my head brutally into her pubic area, almost stifling me of air.
I felt as if I was being smothered by her but kept wanking, this time more forcefully as if my very life depended on it.
The aroma of her urine soaked knickers was not unpleasant; in fact I couldn’t get enough of it. To tell the truth I found it exciting; the mere fact of being in her personal, private world under her skirt and petticoats drove me almost insane with lust. My wanking had reached fever pitch and my head thrashed about ferociously between her legs. It seemed as if I was ‘possessed’ by a lecherous lust which I just couldn’t satisfy.
“Hey Davy, are you alright?” asked the blonde girl pulling her dress aside. She stared down into my feral eyes which glinted insanely back at her. My unshaven face must have looked ‘bestial’ in comparison to her feminine underwear. My stubbly chin kept scratching her stockings where they gripped her thighs and were supported by her suspenders.
She threw her dress over me once more and rearranged her petticoats so that I was evenly covered. All around my head I felt the crisp nylon frou-frou textures of her underskirts covering me while I jerked off frantically and rhythmically.
By now I was on the ‘short strokes’ and slowed things down in order to delay the final millisecond of my climax. Vivian must have been bemused by the slobbering, twitching, shaking head between her legs. Fortunately she could not see me squeeze my eyes tightly together as if in agony. Her petticoats stifled my groans and moans but I roared out a big “Yesss,” as I emptied my testicles with five buttock-clenching thrusts which burst through the Kleenex tissues and splattered semen over my stomach and shirt.
Vivian remained sitting on my face watching the television and now it appeared very late and clearly time for bed.
***
Mrs. Lloyd.
When my parents and Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd returned the following day they would not have had a clue what Vivian and I had been up to the previous day. I had made sure that both beds looked ‘slept in’ although Vivian and I had shared my bed all night and most of the morning. I had already ejaculated five times that morning including twice in Vivian’s mouth.
We had both taken a shower together and enjoyed the early part of the afternoon walking around the village and along the lanes.
We were surprised to return to find the Lloyd’s Volvo already parked on the gravel drive.
“Hello you two,” shouted my mother as we approached, “Did you have a good time?” My face, unfortunately, turned beetroot red which attracted Mrs. Lloyd’s attention.
It was as if the word ‘GUILT’ had been tattooed in bright red neon ink across my forehead.
Mrs. Lloyd’s eyes pierced mine and she knew instantly that I had trespassed on her daughter’s virtue. I was almost sure that she could read my thoughts; it was as if I were telling her that her daughter had sat on my face solidly for five hours the previous night while I wanked repeatedly, one orgasm following the other.
“I’d like to talk to you alone young man,” she said in a whisper. “Tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock when Vivian and my husband will not be at home.”
I waved Vivian off and stared at Mrs. Lloyds shapely legs as she swung them into the Volvo’s capacious foot well. Her eagle eyes bore into me as I watched them drive off. My parents appeared to be blissfully unaware of Vera Lloyd’s odd behaviour towards me, and seemed more interested in resting after the long journey.
***
At the Lloyd’s House
I arrived at the Lloyd’s house at two o’clock precisely. I rang the doorbell and listened out for the clatter of high heels which would announce Mrs. Lloyd’s arrival. I heard the familiar sound on the wide hallway floor. The Lloyd’s house was one of the largest in the village and their floor was made of terrazzo tiles set in a black and white chequerboard pattern. I had always thought that their home was very posh and everything about it was so stylish and opulent.
“Come in David,” said Mrs. Lloyd opening one of a pair of outer oak doors.
I immediately noticed her perfume which seemed so intense and overpowering. I felt dirty and slovenly wearing just my jeans and t-shirt and old sports shoes.
She led me to the lounge which enjoyed extensive views of the local countryside through its vast French windows.
I was told to sit opposite her on one of the two sofas which faced each other and which were positioned to each side of the large fireplace.
“I won’t offer you tea as what I am about to say won’t take long,” she said and I noticed her immaculate makeup and bouffant hair, as was the fashion in 1958.
“I knew immediately, when we arrived home yesterday, that something had happened between you and Vivian. I could tell straightaway that something was not right. You may call it female intuition but I prefer to ascribe it to the close bond enjoyed by a mother and daughter.”
Mrs. Lloyd’s English was so precise. She was precise in everything, her home, her clothes, her garden; everything about Vera Angela Lloyd was immaculate and perfect. I was now beginning to understand that she thought I had sullied her daughter’s reputation, or worse still, deflowered her.
“You can tell me what happened as I have already heard Vivian’s side of the story,” she said with a slow calculating manner.
“Well if you have heard Vivian’s side of the story you will not want to hear mine, I said with a certain amount of cockiness.
“So there is a story, is there?” said the woman, and I saw that I was being led into a trap.
“Well what I meant by ‘story’ was just the events of the day; there is very little to relate,” I said trying to be precise in my meaning. Unfortunately I turned scarlet red and Mrs. Lloyd’s predatory eyes stared through my brain and into the back of my skull.
“I know all about Vivian being forced to…err…sit on your…err…face while you masturbated in front of her,” she said, this time raising her voice in anger.
I shook visibly and pleaded with her not to tell my parents. My mother would go ‘ballistic’ if she ever found out.
“Well as far as I can tell you did not steal her virginity but she is very upset at the degradation of your obscene acts you forced her to perform,” said the woman wearing a black knee-length shirtwaister dress.
I stared horrified at the woman and at the hem of her dress where a lacy hem of her petticoat lay revealed.
“I am, I am very sorry Mrs. Lloyd,” I blurted, looking shamefaced and full of panic. “I won’t ever ask Vivian again, and I promise I’ll never see her again if you would please not tell my parents,” I went on and almost considered bursting into tears if it would prevent my mum and dad from finding out.
“David,” said the woman, who was at least thirty years older than me. “You will have to do me a great favour, or else, rest assured, your parents will hear from me. I shall tell them every detail of your disgusting perversions and what you did to my daughter,” said Mrs. Lloyd with a triumphant glint in her eyes.
I sensed that I was to carry out some sort of service for her and noticed that she stared at the bulge in my jeans. Suddenly I had the awful thought that perhaps Mrs. Lloyd was going to get me to do things to her, just as I had done things to her daughter. I was to be proved correct.
***
With Mrs. Lloyd in the Guest Bedroom
Mrs. Lloyd took me by the hand and led me upstairs. I had never explored their home, even when I visited Vivian when we were much younger. Mrs. Lloyd did not like children playing upstairs with their dirty shoes so they always had to play in the conservatory.
I had already taken off my shoes and followed her somewhat nervously into the guest bedroom. I had always assumed that guest bedrooms were always small and simply furnished and were merely ‘dumping grounds’ for surplus possessions. The Lloyd’s guestroom was, however, a sumptuous room dominated by a large double bed.
Mrs. Lloyd pulled back the bedclothes and revealed the pale blue under sheet and pillows.
“You will get undressed and lay on the bed face up, with your feet on the pillows, understood?” said Mrs. Lloyd in her perfectly clipped English.
She left me on my own and I slowly stripped off, hesitating when I got down to my underpants. I saw my reflection in the long full-length mirror. I looked wiry just standing there wearing only my glasses. My penis, I thought, however appeared massive in its semi erect condition. My mind raced at being naked in front of Mrs. Lloyd. What would she ask me to do? Did she know that I was a virgin? Not even in my wildest dreams had Mrs. Lloyd ever been the subject of my erotic desires.
I lay on the bed as she had ordered. I have to admit that although I was worried that Mrs. Lloyd would tell my parents about my use of Vivian as a ‘wanking aid’ I was intrigued to know what Mrs. Lloyd intended me to do to her.
She returned and immediately fixed me with her eyes. Her hawk-like stare seemed hostile, almost predatory, in its intensity. I noticed that she was carrying a bundle of leather belts and dog leads.
“You will allow me to tie you down. Is that understood young man?” said Mrs. Lloyd with a lecherous sneer.
I clearly had little choice and watched her link together the various metal buckles and leather leads to make long inflexible tethers which she attached to my wrists and ankles. She pulled their free ends to all four corners of the bed and buckled them to the under frame and bed legs.
“I hope that they aren’t too tight for you?” she asked, and I was thankful that there was a small amount of ‘give’.
“There now, we’re all nice and cosy aren’t we?” said Vivian’s mother stroking my penis as she sat on the bed next to me.
Needless to say my penis had reached gigantic proportions and was long enough; it seemed, to touch the ceiling.
“So this is what you displayed to my daughter was it?” said the forty seven year old wearing her black full shirtwaister dress.
I suddenly visualised her extracting a pair of scissors from her handbag and…well. I looked at her and panicked and blurted. “Please Mrs. Lloyd, don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything you want but don’t hurt me, I don’t want you to cut it off, please, please not that,” I said close to tears.
“Well David you are getting worked up, and about nothing too, I might add,” said the perfumed woman with her immaculate makeup. “I do not intend to harm you in any way. On the contrary I hope that you and…err…I will…err…please each other for the afternoon,” and with that she kissed me full on my lips, and on my ears.
She dragged her tongue down my neck and onto my chest where she teased my nipples. I groaned with pleasure and felt my penis stir and become even larger, if that was at all possible.
Mrs. Lloyd’s greying hair was almost in my face as she licked her way back up my neck and over my face and ears.
“You taste very nice David,” she hissed, then licked her way down the centre line of my chest and stopped at my navel.
She forced her tongue into this fleshy depression as I squirmed with both pleasure and agony at the sensations which I had never experienced before.
The ties felt surprisingly tight as I fought to escape her tongue. For some reason I felt uncomfortably ticklish so groaned and flinched. She laughed at me and squeezed my testicles. All of a sudden I felt her hot breath on my shaft.
“Oh my God, Mrs. Lloyd,” I spluttered.
Then she took my erection into her mouth and began milking me. I had not been prepared for this and wondered whether the middle-aged woman knew that her daughter had done this to me during our day together. Perhaps she was jealous? Perhaps Mr. Lloyd had been neglecting her sexually speaking?
None of this mattered at the time and I reveled at being sucked off by this prim and proper friend of my parents. No matter how hard I tugged at the belts and dog leads I could not extract my hands, and I couldn’t touch Mrs. Lloyd or get my fingers into her clothes.
“You can ‘come’ in my mouth if you wish,” said Vivian’s mother wiping saliva off her chin where it had gathered and dribbled onto my thighs.
She squeezed my balls and laughed to herself. She flashed her eyes at me and continued her sucking and licking. To be honest I found her the most sexually attractive woman I had ever met; she appeared to be ten times more experienced than Vivian, which I suppose went without saying but also it was the fact that she was so mature, and I was …well…young, and knew practically nothing about sex.
“Oh wow, wow Mrs. Lloyd,” I groaned as I felt semen gather at the base of my shaft. “I’m almost there, don’t stop,” I squealed as I tried to delay the inevitable.
Then it happened. I shut my eyes and held back. I waited until I reached the final second when the pressure became intolerable. Then I exploded inside her and pumped out five long slurps of warm creamy slime into her mouth. Her sucking became more intense and I felt her ‘vacuum up’ every remnant of semen from my penis. I even felt her suck semen from the very centre of my urethra. All these sensations felt so new.
I lay back panting and watched my parents’ friend wipe her mouth with a tissue and then smile at me like a tigress having caught and eaten its prey.
“Now it’s time for you to pleasure me, don’t you think David?” said Mrs. Lloyd standing up.
***
My Face under Mrs. Lloyd’s Dress
I wondered what Mrs. Lloyd had in mind. I had imagined that she might have decided to ‘impale’ herself on my penis and ride me. I had read in dirty magazines at school that women liked to be able to control the speed and intensity during fucking and this was the best position for them.
“Take off your glasses David, here let me take them from you,” she said and placed them on the bedside table. Now I understood what I had to do; she was clearly going to sit on my face and get me to tongue her between her legs.
“Well if my daughter can enjoy the pleasure of having a boy’s head between her legs then so can I,” said Mrs. Lloyd, clearly unperturbed at having an 18-year old, young enough to be her son lying naked on her bed.
“I’ll try not to squash you, young man,” said the slim woman lifting her dress. I now saw her clothes in a new light. No longer was she just Mrs. Lloyd wearing her black knee-length day dress but she was Mrs. Lloyd the seductress, temptress and whore.
“Oh wow,” I whimpered as she swung her leg over me and straddled my chest and smoothed her dress around, and over, me.
For a split second I had seen her underwear. Her white nylon slip was wide and flared and trimmed with deep lacy scallops; her dark brown stockings were supported by white plain nylon suspenders with metal fasteners; she also wore white French knickers finished with wide lacy scallops to match her petticoat.
I felt as if my head was bursting with excitement at the thought of where my face was to be placed. Mrs. Lloyd was happy just to kneel astride my chest with her knees touching my cheeks. My chin rested against the hem of her dress and I could feel her body heat spread over my warm body. Her clothes made my torso tingle and shiver as I felt the smooth coolness of nylon scratch against me.
“Do you like my stockings,” she suddenly asked and slid up her dress to reveal her thighs as far as the dark brown welts. I strained my head to obtain a better view. Her legs were perfect, just like Vivian’s and I marveled at their shapeliness and fullness.
“Yes, yes they are very nice,” I spluttered feeling my penis recover and roll into an upright position along my belly. I felt a small dribble of semen spill from its tip and was unable to tell whether it was from the remnants of my previous orgasm or whether it was precum.
“I put them on especially for you David, as I guessed you’d prefer dark stockings,” she said and looked at me as if to tell me that Vivian has divulged my penchant for black stockings.
“I don’t own any black stockings so I hope that these will do,” she winked at me in a slightly insane manner and I stared back grinning like an idiot. I watched her smooth her dress against her body as if to check that her figure was acceptable for her young visitor. I looked at her with fascination as she undid the lower three buttons of her shirtwaister dress.
“We want plenty of space for movement don’t we?” she whispered and then undid the two top buttons. I could now see the lacy top of her bra or it may have been her slip. I noticed as she moved that there were two sets of shoulder straps so she must have been wearing a full slip.
Mrs. Lloyd took off her shiny waist belt and threw it on the floor and then announced that she was ready.
She knelt up and shuffled her knees onto, then over, my shoulders at the same time opening her thighs. Again I saw her French knickers which were very generously fashioned to say the least. All the overlapping white lacy scallops were so loose that I could already see glimpses of pubic hair beneath.
I groaned with sheer pleasure and adoration as she lifted her arse off my neck and placed it over my chin. At the same time she rearranged her skirt and wide slip around my head so that my face was well and truly imprisoned under her petticoats. My wrists felt sore. I dearly wanted to caress her curvaceous buttocks and wank at the same time but I could not, and felt somewhat cheated by her.
She placed her full body weight on my face and my nose pushed its way tightly into her loose French knickers. I smiled inwardly at being in such a warm erotic atmosphere, hidden amongst her underwear and dress.
Her odours surrounded me and I noticed that they were several times more intense than Vivian’s. I wondered whether older women smelled differently and imagined her to be like fine wine, improving with age. Mrs. Lloyd’s knickers were full of pungent aromas, musky and spicy, both sweet and stale. I picked out the smell of cunt which pervaded the narrow airless space between her legs. I also breathed in her expensive perfume combined with that of urine. I sucked up lungfulls of this heady mixture and as I did so I felt my heavy penis extent to its maximum length and girth.
I remained inert under Mrs. Lloyds skirt until I heard her tell me to ‘lick her out’. I watched her kneel up from the bed and saw her petticoat slide inwards as she pushed her hand under her knickers and pulled the leg to one side. There, briefly, I saw her glistening lips waiting for my tongue.
“Ready now David,” she cooed and sat squarely on my face again.
I now felt her engorged outer lips over mine. They felt colder than I had expected and more wrinkled. Immediately I had wormed my tongue between them and up into her moist channel. I felt her buttocks flinch slightly as I wriggled my tongue further up into her.
“Ooh, yesss,” she hissed somewhere above me
I could hardly hear her because my ears were buried under her fleshy thighs and underwear. I moved my tongue in and out of her hairy orifice, flicking it along the inner walls of her outer lips and under the hood which protected her clitoris. My experiences with Vivian were now paying off. I knew how to ‘pleasure’ Mrs. Lloyd and I was now determined to do so. I felt as if I had to prove to her that I could do what was expected and in a warped frame of mind I felt that I wished to ‘earn’ my apology regarding her daughter.
Her petticoat rasped against the smooth nylon of her stockings. It set off little crackles of static. Her full weight bore down on me and my head was pushed firmly into the mattress beneath the under sheet. I have to admit that I could hardly breathe except through the loose nylon of her knickers which lay stuck to my nostrils. In the darkened space beneath her black dress and white nylon slip my head felt deliciously trapped. I remembered Vivian doing this to me and now wondered whether ‘facesitting’ was a family trait and whether she had inherited the desire from her mother. Either way I was enjoying every second lying on my back naked with Mrs. Lloyd sitting on my face.
I only wished that she had not strapped me to the bed as my stiff penis flailed around aimlessly seeking sweet relief. I would have gladly paid Mrs. Lloyd anything to untie my right hand.
“Faster David, if you please,” grunted Mrs. Lloyd as she began jerking herself rhythmically against my nose and mouth. I slid my tongue up to her clitoris and probed and prodded at it as if it were my only raison d’être. We established a slow tempo with my tongue sliding up and down her cleft and circling her clitoris.
“Firmer on my clitty,” she barked at me sliding her well lubricated lower lips backwards and forwards over my nose.
After several minutes of solid tonguing Mrs. Lloyd’s grunting became louder, coarser and more urgent. Her pelvic jerks and thrusts became more forceful and painful.
I pulled on the tethers and tried to resist her wilder movements as she wrenched my neck to and fro. All of a sudden she grabbed the top of my head through her dress and I was forced to remain static while she slid her cunt over my nose, mouth and chin. She appeared to be seeking the perfect position for her clitoris to jerk against my facial contours as if she were trying to scratch an elusive ‘itch’
For me it was like being tossed in a stormy sea as her movements were so exaggerated and furious. Her hips thrashed around wildly as she wiped her dribbling smelly orifice all over my face. The gusset of her French knickers was completely sodden with her vaginal secretions seeped steadily out and into my nostrils and eyes. The air under her petticoat was now stagnant and stank strongly of cunt.
I felt as if I wouldn’t survive her onslaught; every sinew of my neck felt sore as she slid her vaginal opening savagely up and down my face. I found myself closing my eyes as if I was enduring some terrible punishment. All around me her thighs, stockings, suspenders and petticoat threshed about in a blur of frantic movement. As nylon slid quickly over rustling nylon I withdrew my painful tongue and attempted to lick at only whatever was within reach. Mrs. Lloyd clearly did not approve of what I had done.
“Get that fucking tongue up me you shit,” spat the middle aged woman, now clearly completely out of control.
She gripped my head and levered if of the bed thrusting her arse downwards. Suddenly I found my lips glued to her vagina and now my tongue and her cunt were again united.
“For fuck’s sake move it,” she shouted at me clamping my head firmly between her hands.
I pushed my tongue over her most sensitive part and she grunted approval. I felt my face being shaken violently again as she extracted her sexual gratification from the sticky features of my face. I lost count as to how many times she jerked her clitoris over my nose and mouth. I managed to keep up with her movements only with superhuman effort ensuring that my tongue remain in contact with her clitoris as far as was physically possible.
“That’s wonderful,” she screamed as she pumped her pelvis brutally against my face.
Soon I was almost passing out with pain and I prayed that she would soon reach her orgasm but Mrs. Lloyd seemed to take an age to satisfy herself.
“I’m almost there,” she screeched then speeded up her thrusts to breakneck speed.
I lay there enduring the torture until she stopped and pushed down on me, suffocating me under her. Her thighs quivered and twitched as I felt her buttocks tighten then something inside her juddered.
I pushed my tongue deeply up her and then I felt it. It was like a tidal wave of miniature muscular pulsations which gripped my tongue then slowly passed. I was thankful she had orgasmed as I felt I just could not have withstood any more of her violent hip jerks.
I was so busy ‘servicing’ Vera Lloyd that I hadn’t noticed that my penis had been dribbling precum on my stomach. I felt the woman twist her trunk as she turned to look behind her. She evidently noticed the colourless fluid as she said, “Oh David, have we been neglecting you?”
I nodded and gurgled a pitiful “Yes,” from under her dress and between her legs. Mrs. Lloyd’s thighs were sticky with sweat and I found it difficult to breathe. Her French knickers were completely sodden and my mouth was filled with stray pubic hair. Mercifully Mrs. Lloyd slid off me and I gulped in cool fresh air.
“Goodness me we are in a mess aren’t we?” said Vivian’s mother staring down at me as she shook her dress out and adjusted her stockings. I noticed that Mrs. Lloyd’s hair was sticky with sweat and she had an unkempt lock falling across her forehead.
“I must look a mess too,” I said and struggled to free myself from the ties.
“Not just yet David, I need to go to the toilet and wee, but I’ll be back soon,” said the middle aged housewife old enough to be my mother.
I heard her put her shoes on and stared up at the floral wallpaper as she walked across the landing. Her footsteps sounded very aggressive and menacing but for some strange reason I found myself experiencing a huge ‘hard-on’. Even the sound of the lavatory flushing made me stiffen noticeably. I looked down the bed and watched my erection grow to enormous proportions, or so it seemed.
Her high heels clunked across the landing as she re entered the bedroom. “That’s better; now we can sort you out young man can’t we?” she said in a very casual manner standing at the side of the bed slipping her shoes off again.
In my naked state, tied to the bed with the world’s largest erection on display I began to feel vulnerable. For some unknown reason I pictured Mrs. Lloyd with a large kitchen knife and wondered why she hadn’t untied me.
“Now it’s my turn to ‘wank’ you off, or whatever youngsters call it nowadays,” she said and grinned at me.
“Well if you untie me maybe I can save you the effort?” I remarked, eager to extract myself, and masturbate myself into oblivion.
“No David, I insist,” said the woman wearing her black dress and dark brown stockings.
She sat on the bed then straddled my chest facing my feet. Very gingerly she lifted her arse and backed herself over me and sat squarely on my face.
“Mrs. Lloyd you have…” but her buttocks stopped me in mid sentence. I was going to remark on the fact that she had removed her knickers and that her bottom looked really delectable.
Once again I was well and truly trapped under her white nylon slip and black dress. Her hind quarters seemed to mould themselves to my face as my nose was rammed into her anal sphincter. She smelled strongly of urine and had clearly wiped away the sexual secretions that had built up earlier.
“Do you like having your head up inside my dress David?” said Mrs. Lloyd, not expecting an answer from the eighteen year old under her heavy buttocks. If I could have answered I would have confirmed that I did enjoy being sat on but would have preferred not to be tied up.
I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to do so I licked her perineum and felt the soft flesh between her legs with my tongue.
“That tickles but I like it,” said the woman astride my face who squirmed deliciously over me.
“Do you like it slow or fast?” Mrs. Lloyd asked and I assumed she meant masturbation. I tried to reply but it was almost impossible to speak. She lifted her arse off me for a split second and I yelled out “Fast ple….” Then I was swamped again by female flesh.
This time she pulled her arse cheeks apart and bore down on me pinching my nostrils between her buttocks as she let go. I could hardly breathe but found that my penis stiffened once again to what appeared to be gigantic dimensions.
“Oh David you are such a ‘big’ boy,” said my captor as she gripped the root of my shaft. I was completely at Mrs. Lloyds mercy and felt utterly overpowered and unable to move, and only just able to breathe.
If anyone at school had told me that I was to strip naked, allow myself to be tied down to a bed then the mother of a friend sit on my face while wanking me off I would have thought them mad. But here I was with my face up the bum crack of a middle aged woman with her dress and petticoat covering my upper body.
“Ready?” said the woman tugging furiously at my foreskin. I groaned incoherently and abandoned myself to the ‘pleasures of the flesh’.
Under her dress the atmosphere was hot and sweaty and soon I detected the now familiar smell of Mrs. Lloyd’s cunt. I couldn’t have thought of a more erotic situation except, that is, actual intercourse. Mrs. Lloyd was indeed skilled at milking and her thin long fingers knew exactly where to apply pressure and what speed was needed.
Soon I was deliberately trying to hold back. My tongue circled her anus and she clenched her buttocks in response.
“That really tickles but don’t stop,” she giggled like a schoolgirl.
Her hand-wanking increased in tempo and pressure until I couldn’t take any more. I felt the familiar warmth of semen gather for expulsion then I groaned.
“Aaauugh,” I moaned but my sounds were muffled by her warm cheeks and layers of clothing.
I jerked out five huge torrents of semen and felt it flood over Mrs. Lloyd’s fingers.
“Good boy, what a nice big fountain.” Said the woman sitting on my face.
I lay there and watched her kneel up, swing her legs off the bed then wipe my penis with a crisp white lace trimmed handkerchief. She untied my wrists, and then my ankles and I sat up and surveyed the room, looking and feeling completely ‘shagged-out’. I sat on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands. My neck ached and so did my penis.
Mrs. Lloyd put her shoes back on and stood in front of me so that my face touched her black dress. She lifted it up, then her petticoat and threw them over my head so that I stared at her hairy ‘triangle’ framed by her suspenders and dark brown stockings.
I licked her exposed thighs above the tops of her stockings and she pulled me into her and parted her legs. Within seconds I was kneeling on the floor in front of her with my tongue up her vagina and her white nylon slip crackling with static as she jerked herself wildly up and down my face. Soon she was groaning and screeching. I continued, seeking out her clitoris with my tongue and with my thumb wedged up her too. All of a sudden Mrs. Lloyd swore and grabbed my head through her clothing.
“For fuck’s sake harder you little shit,” said the woman, now completely out of control.
I ploughed on until I felt her body stiffen, then shudder, quiver then pulsate.
“Fucking yes, yes, yesss,” she hissed as if she had been hit by an express train. Her knees buckled as she reached her orgasm and my face was covered in sweat. The pulsations swiftly died away and Mrs. Lloyd lifted her dress and backed away from me. Her hair was disheveled again and she appeared to be close to tears.
We tidied up once I had dressed then went downstairs for a well earned cup of tea.
“I will not mention the episode with Vivian again only on one condition,” said the middle aged housewife. “I can probably guess what that is Mrs. Lloyd,” I said smirking insanely at her.
“You want me to provide a little ‘service’ for you now and again? Is that what you meant?”
“Absolutely correct David,” said Mrs. Lloyd, “Absolutely correct.”