WHISKY AND LEMONADE

Ethan ran upstairs to his bedroom to get dressed. He
put on a pair of boxer shorts. His thing was not as
hard as before, but it hung out the left leg of his
shorts. He put on his jeans and looked at himself in
the mirror. His thing clearly stood out against his
left leg. He sighed and took the jeans off.

Somewhere in his dresser was a pair of jockey shorts he
no longer wore. He found them buried in the bottom
drawer. He took off the boxers, put on the jockeys, and
put the boxers back on over them.

Immediately, he was uncomfortable. The jockeys were too
tight. His penis grew even harder, straining against
the underwear. He looked at himself in the mirror
again. At least he couldn’t see the outline of it
against his leg. It was terribly uncomfortable, but
nobody would laugh.

He put on his jeans and shoes and a shirt and went
downstairs. Mom and Mrs. Thorn were still in the
kitchen, having tea. He went out to the garage and
turned on the light. The car was waiting patiently for
him. He stood back to look at it for a few seconds. It
was a 1966 GTO, his grandfather’s. On the workbench, by
the repair manual, were three two-barrel carburetors.
It took him two weeks to strip them down, clean and
reassemble them. Today was as good a day as any to put
them back on.

He raised the hood. The engine lurked beneath like a
wild animal restrained by a cage. At the top, the three
holes in the manifold were covered with masking tape.
Ethan removed the tape from the rear hole, picked up
the carb marked for that spot, and placed it carefully
over the four mounting studs.

In his mind, he saw the cheerleaders going through
their routines. They had slender waists and smooth legs
and their chests jiggled and bounced. He grew stiff
again. He stopped tightening the bolts on the
carburetor to adjust his penis in his shorts. The
harder it grew, the more uncomfortable it got. Shifting
it in his shorts only made it harder. His penis finally
slipped through the leg of the jockeys. He shook his
legs a few times until it was hanging down his jeans
against his left leg. That was better, but the band of
the jockeys was too tight, cutting into his thing.

He heard a footstep and turned around quickly, taking
his hands away from his groin. Mrs. Thorn’s eyebrows
arched up. She was looking down at his groin.

“Uncomfortable, Ethan?” she said.

Ethan blushed and stared at the floor. “Just… a
little tight.”

Mrs. Thorn smirked. “I’ll bet.”

She leaned against the fender of the GTO and looked in
at the engine. Her large breasts rested on her folded
arms, bulging from the halter top like they might burst
out.

“This is a nice car, Ethan,” she said.

“It was my grandfather’s.”

“Looks like it belongs to you.”

Ethan just nodded and stared at her out of the corner
of his eye. One of her long legs kicked up and her
backside moved side to side. Mrs. Thorn was not like
the girls he knew. Her chest was much bigger and she
had longer legs than any of those girls. He badly
wanted to touch Mrs. Thorn, to see how her body felt.

“You probably can’t wait to drive it, can you?” Mrs.
Thorn said as she moved around to the front of the car.

“No, ma’am,” Ethan said. His eyes were on her breasts,
watching the way they jiggled.

“You’re what, nineteen now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

She started to say something, but lost her balance. Her
arms went out and she fell back against him. Ethan
caught her around her waist. His fingers touched her
breasts. He was right; they were soft. Her butt pressed
against the front of his jeans and his hard penis
lodged in the crack between her cheeks.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ethan,” she said. Her butt moved
side to side on his stiffness and she leaned against
him for a few seconds. “I just wanted to get a better
look. Would you hold me up?”

Mrs. Thorn bent forward to look over the front grill.
Ethan’s hands moved down her waist to her hips. Her
butt pressed more firmly against the front of his
jeans. His eyes rolled up.

“That’s a really nice machine you have here. You’ll
have to take me for a ride some time.”

“Sure,” Ethan said, but as she stood up and left, he
got the feeling she was talking about something else.

He couldn’t move. His penis was as hard as a rock and
stretched down the leg of his jeans. The leg band of
the jockeys cut into it painfully. There was no way it
would go soft and he couldn’t go out to dinner with it
sticking out like that.

He leaned back on the stool. Mrs. Thorn’s butt felt
incredible. He never would have believed being touched
by a girl like that would have felt so good. He rubbed
his thing through his jeans and gasped. His knees
became weak. He sat for a long time with his hands on
his knees, trying not to touch it.

From behind the car, he watched the neighbor across the
street watering his lawn, and a few cars that drove by,
until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to do
something. He couldn’t go in; Mom would see him like
this. Besides, he didn’t think he could walk. Maybe if
he took it out of his tight shorts, the cool air of the
garage would make it go soft.

He opened his jeans, pushed down the front of his
boxers and the jockeys, and pulled out his thing. He
sighed. The tension eased from his body. He let his
weight settle on the stool.

The jockey shorts were a bad idea. He could not stand
being so uncomfortable all the time. There had to be
another way. He would just stop thinking about girls,
that was all. He wouldn’t think about them and his
thing wouldn’t get hard. He wouldn’t think about their
soft chests or their round butts or their long legs…

The cool air wasn’t working. He was still as hard as a
rock and it wasn’t getting softer. He lifted his penis.
The skin burned like it was on fire. He never
understood how it got so big. It was like it happened
all of a sudden. He couldn’t remember it being so big
until one day when he was younger and noticed it for
the first time. Now it was about as long as his forearm
and as thick as his wrist. He squeezed. It felt like
there was a piece of wood under the skin.

It got hard sometimes in the morning when he woke up
and had to pee, or in the middle of the night when he
was having a dream. It got hard, too, when he looked at
girls, like those cheerleaders, or when he just thought
about them. He moved his hand back and forth and
gasped. That felt good. He squeezed and moved his hand
back and forth and groaned. His knees felt weak. He did
it again and groaned again. He moved his hand all the
way up to the end, then all the way back down to the
bottom.

Ethan closed his eyes and saw Mrs. Thorn again, saw her
big breasts and her long legs, and the way her slender
waist fit in his hands and the way her butt pressed
against his groin when she bent over. His penis spasmed
and he grunted. It felt too good to stop. His hand
moved faster. He moaned as his hand pumped. His penis
spasmed again and he groaned and opened his eyes. He
started to cum and his stuff shot out the end. His
penis spasmed again and more stuff shot out. It was
white and thick and splattered on the floor. He stared
with his mouth hanging open. Over and over, it spurted
from his penis and landed on the floor.

Pam was leaning against the fender of the car to his
left. Ethan froze. She was looking right at him, and
grinned. He blushed and tried to pull his jeans up, but
couldn’t get them over his hard penis.

“That was nice,” Pam said.

“What do you want?” Ethan turned away.

Pam stood upright and her grin disappeared.

“Mom wants you to go to the store.” She turned and
walked out of the garage.

Ethan groaned. He looked down at his penis. It was
still hard.

* * * *

The sun was strong and straight overhead. Ethan was
dripping with sweat. The stifling heat had sapped his
strength. He stood in the driveway, holding the
basketball, no longer with the energy to even dribble.
Sweat dripped from his face and bare chest and
evaporated as soon as it hit the pavement. He needed
some relief, and the air conditioning inside just
wasn’t going to do it. He needed to sink himself in
some cool water. He needed to go swimming in the
Thorn’s pool.

Their driveway was empty. Perfect. They invited him and
his sister to use their pool anytime they wanted, but
he preferred to swim when they weren’t home. Mrs. Thorn
was all right, but Mr. Thorn always wanted to tell him
one of his long stories.

This was the Fourth of July weekend, though, and they
had probably gone away somewhere. Ethan grabbed his t-
shirt and went inside to put on his swim trunks. He
changed in his room, grabbed a towel from the closet,
and ran next door. The gate of the tall, wooden fence
was unlocked, as he expected. He went in. The water in
the pool shimmered in the sunlight like a beckoning
oasis. He tossed the towel on a lawn chair, kicked off
his basketball shoes, and dove in.

Gayle Thorn picked up the bag of groceries, unlocked
the front door, went in and set her keys and purse on
the table beside the door. She took the groceries out
of the bag and put them in the refrigerator.

She heard a splash. Someone was in the pool. She leaned
over the sink to see out the window. The water was
rippling. She rushed out of the kitchen to the sliding
glass doors in the living room. Her worst fear had
always been that one of the young children in the
neighborhood would wander into the backyard and fall
into the pool. If that happened, she would never
forgive herself.

A head appeared in the water. It was Ethan. He swam to
the far side of the pool and climbed out. Gayle smiled.
Ethan was no longer the scrawny young kid she watched
growing up next door. He had grown lean and tall.

Ethan trotted to the diving board, leaving a wet trail
on the cement. He climbed up to the board, walked out
to the end, bounced a few times, and dove in. Gayle
closed her eyes, remembering the way she saw him in the
garage a few weeks ago. She’d seen a lot of cocks in
her time, but never one as big as the one in Ethan’s
jeans.

Ethan climbed out, ran to the diving board, and dove in
again.

Francis did not believe her when she told him. He
claimed that since she did not actually see it
uncovered or touched it, she could not accurately judge
its size. When she told him how she bent over and
pressed her ass to his groin, he was equally
disbelieving. According to him, she could not measure
the dimensions of a man’s cock with her ass. She told
him he was full of shit.

Ethan floated on his back, kicking and splashing with
his feet. Gayle had an idea. She would find out exactly
what Ethan had in his shorts, and she knew just how to
do it.

Ethan drifted slowly on his back with his eyes closed.
The sun was warm on his face. The cool water
reenergized him. He would have gone back to play more
basketball, but he was too relaxed, and having too much
fun in the pool. Pam always said diving in the deep end
was the most fun. Now he knew what she meant.

He felt his penis stirring in his shorts. Pam told him
about having sex and said it was supposed to feel good,
better than when he did it with his hand. He wanted to
ask her to show him, but he didn’t think he should. But
maybe she would touch it. She saw it once already and
said it was nice. If he got the chance, he would ask
her to touch it. Just the thought of doing that with
her made him stiff.

He climbed out of the pool and went to the diving
board. He walked to the end, standing with his toes
over the edge. He held out his arms, bounced a few
times and dove in, slicing neatly into the water with
his arms over his head like the point of a knife.
Pumping with his feet, he paddled straight down,
touched the bottom like he did every time, then pushed
himself up. His head broke the surface. He wiped the
water from his eyes, brushed his hair back, and paddled
to the edge.

As he lifted himself out, he froze. The sliding glass
door opened. Mrs. Thorn emerged from the darkness of
the house, carrying two tall glasses with ice and
straws and a bottle of suntan lotion. She wore dark,
tortoise shell sunglasses, high heeled black shoes, and
a pink bikini that was barely more than three tiny
patches of fabric to cover her chest and… Ethan
stared at the tiny triangle below her belly button…
Her pussy. His jaw dropped. He teetered on the edge of
the pool and grabbed the ladder railing.

“Hi, Ethan. I made lemonade. Would you like some?” she
said.

She walked to the table by the lawn chair and set the
glasses and the lotion down. Her huge breasts bounced
with every step. Her entire body was a deep bronze
color.

“Sure,” Ethan said. He walked slowly to the table,
trying not to stare at her chest. His thing was already
hard in his shorts.

Mrs. Thorn was smiling. He took a deep drink of
lemonade and coughed.

“Pretty strong?” Mrs. Thorn said.

Ethan wiped his mouth. “What’s in this?”

“I put a shot of whisky in it. Do you like it?”

Ethan coughed again. “Whisky?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You probably never had whisky,” Mrs.
Thorn said. She took the glass and wiped his chin. “Are
you ok?”

Ethan nodded. “Fine.”

“Good.”

She took a long drink of lemonade. While her head was
tilted back, Ethan stared at her chest. The tiny pieces
of pink fabric barely covered her nipples and the
strings cut into her soft flesh. His penis twitched and
grew harder. It had to be pushing out the front of his
shorts, but he didn’t care.

Mrs. Thorn set her glass down. Her eyes glanced down to
his shorts.

“Would you do me a favor?” she said.

“Sure.”

She handed him the bottle of cocoa butter lotion.
“Would you put lotion on my back?”

Without waiting for an answer, she straddled the
reclining lawn chair and lay down on her belly. Ethan’s
eyes opened wide. The strip of pink fabric on the back
of the bikini bottom disappeared between the cheeks of
her butt.

“Go ahead,” she said, her head turned to the side to
look up at him. “Don’t take too long. I burn easily. My
skin is delicate, you know.”

Ethan’s hands trembled. He couldn’t take his eyes off
her butt. He never saw anything that looked so good in
his life. He swallowed hard and sat down on the edge of
the lawn chair. His knee touched her bare hip. He tried
to pull away, but she moved her legs so she was
touching him again.

“Don’t skimp on the lotion, honey. Make sure you use
plenty,” Mrs. Thorn said. She rested her chin on her
folded hands.

Ethan uncapped the lotion and squirted it into his
palm. His hands shook. His erection strained to get out
of his shorts. His hands hovered a few inches over her
shoulders. Mrs. Thorn had a small smile on her lips,
but he couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed
through the dark glasses. He swallowed hard and touched
her shoulder.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Mrs. Thorn said.

Ethan’s eyes rolled back in his head. Her skin was soft
and warm. His hand moved slowly in a circular pattern
over her shoulder, smearing the lotion. Her skin became
slick and shiny. He squirted more lotion on her other
shoulder and rubbed it in. He squirted some on the
small of her back and spread it on her skin, running
his hands over the gentle curve of her waist.

“Lower,” Mrs. Thorn said.

Ethan moved his hands down her back until his fingers
grazed the top of the bikini bottom. He groaned and
shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the lawn chair.

“Lower, Ethan,” Mrs. Thorn said. “You don’t want me to
sunburn my ass, do you?”

Ethan stared at her butt. The round cheeks seemed to be
waiting for him. He squirmed, dying to take his thing
out of his shorts and rub it.

“No, ma’am,” he said.

He squirted a blob of lotion on each cheek and smeared
it around, his hand barely touching her skin. Her hips
rocked slowly and her butt rose to meet his hand.

“Now get my front side,” Mrs. Thorn said, and rolled
over. “Start with my legs.”

Ethan’s hands were not shaking as much, but he was
sweating and his heart was pounding. He squirted the
lotion up her near leg in a line from her ankle to the
middle of her thigh. He started at her ankle and moved
up.

“That’s good, Ethan.” Her legs spread a bit. He could
see a few wispy hairs poking out from under the thin,
pink strip of fabric. She put her hand on his and moved
it to the inside of her thigh. “Don’t forget to get
down in here.”

She moved his hand way up her leg. His fingers pressed
against her warm crotch. She moaned softly, moved his
hand down, then back up, moaning again. Her hips arched
off the chair.

“Are you thirsty?” she said. She let go of his hand and
sat up to take a drink of lemonade.

Ethan snatched his hand back and pressed both over his
lap, keeping his legs squeezed together.

“Yeah,” he said. He swallowed and his throat was dry.

She handed him his glass. As he tilted it back to
drink, Mrs. Thorn removed her bikini top and lay back,
stretching her arms over her head. Ethan coughed and
sputtered, spilling lemonade down his chin to his bare
chest.

“Could you do my front side really good? My husband
likes it when I don’t have any tan lines,” she said.

Ethan could not move. The condensation from the glass
dripped on his leg, but he could not take his eyes off
her chest. She wiggled her butt in the chair and they
jiggled. The pink nipples at the tips were hard points.

Ethan put down the glass and picked up the bottle of
lotion. He held it out, but hesitated. Should he put
his hands right on them, or should he start on her
belly? Would she be mad if he touched them? He started
on her belly, just to be safe, but stared at her chest.
He rubbed the lotion in small circles over her belly
button. Her butt wiggled and she made soft moaning
noises.

“Let me help,” she said, and reached for the bottle of
lotion.

She held it upside down and let the white lotion
dribble on her chest. The drops landed with a splat.
Ethan’s mouth fell open. She closed the cap and set the
bottle on the table.

“Now spread that around for me, honey,” she said.

Ethan looked at his hands. She wanted him to put them
on her chest. He held them out over each breast, closed
his eyes and lowered them.

“Oh yes, Ethan,” she said.

He groaned. They were so soft. He rubbed his hands
lightly over them, then squeezed. He groaned again and
shifted uncomfortably.

Mrs. Thorn’s hand touched his knee. Ethan froze except
for his hands. Her fingers moved slowly up his leg to
the bottom edge of his shorts. He was sure she would
stop there, but she didn’t. Her hand moved over the
front of his shorts, right over his hard thing.

“My goodness, Ethan. You’ve certainly grown up big and
strong,” she said.

Ethan’s eyes rolled shut. Her hand moved back and forth
along his thing, squeezing. Her hand felt good, much
better than when he did it, just like Pam said. Then
her hand was gone. Mrs. Thorn sat up.

“Would you like more lemonade?” she said.

Ethan started to speak but had no voice and cleared his
throat.

“Yes ma’am” he said.

She picked up the two empty glasses and started toward
the house.

“Come on inside with me, honey.” She opened the sliding
glass door. He was still sitting on the edge of the
lawn chair, his hands over his lap. She looked over the
tops of her sunglasses. “What are you waiting for?”

Ethan stalled as long as he could. He stood up slowly,
his hands covering the front of his shorts. His penis
shifted on its own and popped out of the inner part of
the swim trunks. It pushed outward against his hands,
hanging out the leg of his shorts. He walked toward her
stiffly and could feel cool air blowing on the tip.

“Move your hands, Ethan,” Mrs. Thorn said. “Don’t hide
it, hon. A tool like that is something to be proud of.”

Ethan slowly lowered his hands. Mrs. Thorn smiled.

“There you go.”

She went inside. He followed and closed the door. She
refilled both glasses with a pitcher of lemonade,
opened a bottle of brown stuff with a black label, and
poured a bit into each glass. She stirred his with her
finger, licked her finger, and handed him the glass.

“Try that.”

Ethan took a sip and coughed. It burned his throat.

“Too strong? Let me fix that for you, dear,” Mrs. Thorn
said. She took his glass, raised it to her lips and
tilted her head back. The lemonade spilled over her
cheeks and chin, down on her bare breasts, and all the
way down her legs to the floor. Ethan’s mouth fell
open.

Mrs. Thorn let out a big, refreshed sigh and set the
glass down. She leaned back against the counter with
her hands on the edge. Her eyes looked down at the
front of his shorts.

“Show it to me, Ethan.”

“Wh-What?”

She pointed to his groin. “I want to see what you got
in them trunks, son.”

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat.

“Don’t be nervous, now. Just show it to me.”

Ethan’s hands were shaking. He tried to think of what
he should do, but his mind was a blank. He hooked his
thumbs over the elastic band at the waist.

“Just take them all the way off. It’ll be easier that
way,” she said. Her fingers teased her nipple.

Ethan hesitated. “What will be easier?”

“Fucking. You do want to fuck me, don’t you? Because,
honey, I can’t wait to get that tool up my slot.”

Her hand slipped down into the tiny bikini bottoms. Her
legs spread. Ethan couldn’t tell what she was doing
there. He just watched the way her fingers moved under
the thin fabric. He pushed his shorts to the floor and
stepped out.

Mrs. Thorn sighed and her eyes widened.

“Oh, sugar, you are all man. Don’t let anyone tell you
different. Now bring that tool over here for me.”

He walked toward her across the kitchen, his wet, bare
feet slapping on the linoleum floor. His penis was so
hard it ached, and it swung in front of him with every
step like some misshapen appendage.

Mrs. Thorn held out her hand and let his thing glide
into it. Ethan flinched. She closed her fingers around
it and stroked slowly.

“Good Lord, Ethan. You’re going to make a lot of girls
happy with this, let me tell you.”

“Happy how?”

Mrs. Thorn looked confused. “Have you never done this,
son?”

“No, ma’am,” Ethan said. He didn’t want to admit he had
no idea what she was talking about.

Mrs. Thorn chuckled as she took off the bikini bottoms.

“I guess we’re both in for a special treat today.”

She set her feet apart, put her hand on her crotch and
spread herself open. Ethan stared between her legs. She
had a small patch of curly hair down there, and a
moist, pink area between her fingers. Was that what Pam
meant by a pussy?

“Bring it here, Ethan,” she said. Her voice was low and
hoarse.

He took a step closer. She put her hand around his
thing, raised it and pointed the tip at the tiny, pink
area between her legs. She pulled. He moved closer. She
put one hand on his shoulder and hooked one leg around
his hip. The end of his thing touched that pink area.
He gasped. It was warm and wet. Part of it sunk into
her.

“Now push, hon. Just push slow,” she said.

Ethan pushed with his hips. The flared end of his penis
disappeared inside her. They both groaned at the same
time. He pushed again. Mrs. Thorn squealed and bit her
lower lip. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” she said.

This was what Pam was trying to tell him. A girl’s
pussy was warm and wet and tight and smothered his
penis. She never could have explained how good it felt.
He only could have found out by doing it like this.

Ethan put a hand on each of Mrs. Thorn’s hips and
pushed himself forward. Her body seemed to resist him,
but when he squeezed her hips and pulled her toward
him, his penis slowly sunk deeper.

“Oh God … Oh God, Ethan,” Mrs. Thorn cried. She
hugged him tightly to her body. Her chin rested on his
shoulder and she moaned in his ear. She ran her hands
down to his lower back.

“That’s deep enough. Fuck me now, sweetie. You know how
to do it,” she whispered in his ear.

Ethan was still for a few seconds, panting, trying to
sort out everything that was happening. His thing felt
like it was going to explode. He could not think how to
describe being enveloped by the warmth and wetness of
her body. Her long legs were wrapped around him, her
big, soft breasts were pressed flat against his chest,
and her hands were running over his back and butt.

He moved his hips back, then forward.

“That’s it. That’s it. Just like that,” Mrs. Thorn said
with a soft moan.

Ethan closed his eyes. His hips moved faster, as if on
their own. Mrs. Thorn squeezed his butt.

“Slow down, Ethan,” she said. “Don’t rush it, hon. Take
your time.”

Ethan took a few seconds to catch his breath. Her hips
moved in his hands. He moved his own hips slowly, just
like before, out a little bit, then back in.

“Yes. Yes, I knew you’d be good at this,” Mrs. Thorn
whispered. Her lips brushed his earlobe.

Ethan pumped his hips again, pushing himself as deep
into her as he could. Mrs. Thorn rocked her hips at the
same speed. Her moaning got louder.

“Oh Ethan … Oh Ethan, you’re gonna make me cum,” she
said.

He didn’t understand what she meant. He didn’t want to
stop to find out. Something was happening inside him,
the same thing that happened when he rubbed his thing
with his hand, only this time it was much better. Mrs.
Thorn was screaming. Her body thrust against him in
convulsions. Her arms and legs clamped around his body.
Her pussy tightened around his thing, and he exploded.

He threw his head back. His thing throbbed painfully.
His knees got weak and he put his hand on the edge of
the counter to hold himself up. Mrs. Thorn’s screams
became weak moans, and her body became limp. Her head
rolled back. He wrapped his arms around her waist to
hold her up.

“Mrs. Thorn? Mrs. Thorn?” he said.

She raised her head, looked both ways, and smiled.

“Good God, Ethan.” She put both hands on his cheeks and
kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth.

Ethan froze. Her tongue felt slimy and weird, but it
stirred a feeling deep in his stomach. He squeezed her
breast. Her back arched. He was still hard inside her
and began moving his hips again. Mrs. Thorn raised her
head and gasped, staring into his eyes with her mouth
open. Her lipstick was smeared.

Her hips rocked with his, slowly at first, then faster.
She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. Her moans
were high pitched squeaks. She laid her head on his
shoulder, and it was happening again. Her body jerked
in his hands and his thing was spasming. He grunted and
thrust himself forward with every spasm. Mrs. Thorn
gasped over and over.

As the spasming stopped, his pushing stopped. Mrs.
Thorn was panting in his ear. He was breathing hard,
too, and their sweaty bodies were glued together.

She brushed her hand through his hair, wiping the sweat
from his forehead.

“You liked that, didn’t you, dear?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Thorn frowned. “Ethan, hon, never call a lady
ma’am. It makes her feel old. A lady doesn’t like to
feel old.”

“No, I guess not.” He started moving his hips again.
His thing was sliding in and out of her body.

Mrs. Thorn pushed against his shoulder. “Enough, Ethan.
Enough, please. My poor body can’t take it one more
time.”

“Sorry,” he said, and stopped. His hands moved up to
her breasts and squeezed.

Mrs. Thorn smiled. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes
seemed to sparkle.

“That was pretty good dear, especially your first time
and all.”

“Thanks.”

She paused. “You can take it out now.”

“Oh. Right.”

Ethan stepped back. His penis slipped slowly from Mrs.
Thorn’s body with a wet sucking sound. The head dropped
free. Mrs. Thorn groaned. She put her hands on the edge
of the counter and her arms strained. A flood of white
fluid gushed from her tiny pink slit and ran down both
legs. Mrs. Thorn looked down, holding her legs apart.

“My God, did you cum. I swear I never seen so much,”
she said.

Ethan staggered backward and dropped into a chair at
the dining table. His thing stood up from his lap,
drooping slightly to the left. That white stuff dripped
from the end. Mrs. Thorn had that stuff inside her.

She chuckled and covered her mouth with her hand.

“I hope you don’t get me pregnant. How would I explain
that to my husband?”

Ethan sat upright. He forgot about Mr. Thorn. What if
he came home and saw him doing this with his wife? He’d
be dead.

“I have to get home,” Ethan said. He bent down and
grabbed his shorts.

Mrs. Thorn’s eyebrows went up. “Already? You sure you
don’t want to stay for dinner? My husband will be home
shortly.”

Ethan’s heart felt like it had been seized in a fist.
He jerked the shorts up, stumbling. His stiff thing
wouldn’t go in. He bent it sideways and forced it down.

“Maybe-Maybe next time. I got to go,” he said and went
to the back door.

“Ok. Goodbye. Come swimming again sometime,” Mrs. Thorn
said.

Ethan stopped halfway through the sliding glass door.
She had a look on her face he couldn’t understand. Her
naked body glistened with perspiration and the cocoa
butter lotion. He gritted his teeth and dashed out of
the yard through the gate.
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