A year had passed since Donna and I had our interlude at her house on Thanksgiving Day.  We’d crossed paths several times but had never gotten together again.  Apparently, her husband, John, had experienced some sort of epiphany not long after that day.  He was sober and treating her like the treasure she is.  She laughed when she told me of her shock the first time that he cleared the supper table and loaded the dishwasher while she went to the living room and relaxed.  I will always wonder if, somehow through his drunken stupor the previous year, he’d been aware his wife and I were grinding groins together on the floor just a few feet from him passed out on the couch.  Her invitation this year was a surprise, but even if all we did was visit, she’s a great cook and the food would be worth it.

I arrived around four-thirty, just like the year before.  Donna answered the door dressed, again, in jeans and a button-up blouse that was buttoned up more than before.  Disappointing.  I stepped in and she gave me an all too short “we’re just casual friends” hug that barely let me feel her delicious breasts pressed against my chest before turning to introduce a slightly pudgy girl standing behind her in the entry. 

“Steve, this is Ellen, John’s daughter.  Ellen has just turned eighteen so we’re celebrating that as well as Thanksgiving.” 

Ellen said hi and shook my hand momentarily before moving in for a quick hug.  Other than the size around, how she pressed against me felt much like Donna.  I looked her over as I followed them back into the kitchen/dining area.  Actually, not bad.  A definite waist, nice butt wiggle, thighs thick but not flabby.  Well, of course, she was still a teenager.

John is who really surprised me, though.  The TV was off, some classic rock softly playing in the background, he was in the kitchen busy helping Donna with the fixings, smile on his face, eyes clear, a total turn-around from who he’d been the year before.  Donna went to the counter beside him, kissed his arm, took over mashing the potatoes and told him to chop veggies for the platter. 

All throughout dinner I marveled at the changes in him and their relationship.  On the one hand, I was quite disappointed.  It was obvious I’d never get to tap Donna again.  On the other hand, I was happy for them both.  John was a very interesting guy.  Evangelical preacher with an open mind that was accepting of beliefs that weren’t aligned with his.  I could see how they were originally attracted to each other. 

After dinner he and Donna cleared the table while Ellen and I went to the living room.  “MacArthur Park” was on the radio.  Ellen commented on how she really liked that song, as well as the music from that era.  “There was real heart and soul put into the music back then.  Today’s stuff is nothing compared to it,” she said.  I replied that I believed it was due to all the social and political turmoil of the day.  Vietnam, Civil Rights, Women’s Lib, Flower Power, the hippy movement, the Cold War, etc.  We became lost in a wonderful conversation about the sixties and seventies.

John interrupted us.  He and Donna were putting on their coats.  “Hey, guys.  Donna and I are going to visit my mom.  Ellen, I know you don’t like to see her as she is, so it’s okay to stay here.  Steve, you’re welcome to hang out.  Seems like you and Ellen have hit it off.  We’ll only be gone maybe an hour and a half.”  Ellen said okay, sounding a bit relieved.  I told them I’d hang around and continue this fascinating conversation.

When the door closed Ellen explained that Grandma had Alzheimer’s and rarely recognized anyone who was there and sometimes didn’t even know anyone was there at all.  I recalled when one of my grandmothers also had the same affliction and could relate to not wanting to visit, assuring her that was her dad’s duty, not hers.  The conversation had shifted from my coming of age era to aging in general.  She seemed curious, not from a place of fear of it happening to her, but just curious.  I’m in my late 60s, so I shared my experiences and beliefs as she probed for more information.

“Is it true men can’t get it up after a certain age?” she asked.  Whoa!  That came out of left field. I explained that many men developed difficulty in achieving and maintaining “it up” as well as losing the ability completely, but not all did.  I had no idea why that was.  “Can you?” she asked. 

Sweet Jesus, where was this coming from?  I almost told her she should be asking her dad or Donna these questions, but immediately realized how awkward that would be.  I was a safe source.  And she was eighteen.  Oh, fuck, go for it.

“Yes, I still can, I’m thankful to say.” 

She put her hand to her mouth and snorted a laugh.  “You should see how red you are,” she told me.  I didn’t feel it, but it didn’t surprise me.  I wasn’t used to such open conversation with girls, or rather, young ladies just barely legal.  “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.  It’s just that I overheard Donna and Patty talking about you.  Seems you know how to please a woman.” 

OK, maybe I was red before, but I was certain I looked like a boiled lobster now.

She clasped her hands in her lap and looked down at them.  In a soft voice she said, “Steve, I’m eighteen now, supposedly a woman, but I’ve only been with a couple of guys my age and both times were very,” she searched for a word, “clumsy.  I’d love to know what it’s like to be with an experienced man.” 

Well, shit, there it was.  I wondered if Donna knew anything about this.  I was sure John didn’t.  But she was eighteen and they still wouldn’t be back for over an hour.  Fuck it, what the hell.

“I’d be honored to give you that experience, Ellen.” 

She smiled and stood.  I got up and walked over to stand before her.  Thinking she was probably expecting something romantic rather than just rutting, I took her into my arms and kissed her.  Softly, lips closed, just for a few moments, then pulled back to gaze into her eyes.  She looked back with her lips now parted, breathing slightly heavier than before.  I leaned forward and kissed her again, this time letting my tongue trace the opening of her lips before slipping in to meet hers.  Damn, she was a decent kisser.  Maybe a natural?  She pressed her body tight against me, her hands massaging my back before slipping under my t-shirt and stroking my back lightly with her nails.  I felt my dick rising, and she must have, too, because she pressed her groin tighter against me. 

Moving my mouth from hers, I proceeded to kiss her lightly all over her face before trailing down her cheek to her neck.  Nibbling and sucking lightly (no hickeys, no way) brought a gentle groan from her as her nails pressed more against my back.  She began to sway her hips, grinding her crotch against my mostly hard cock.  It was becoming obvious that any clumsiness in her previous encounters had nothing to do with her.  OK, time’s a-wasting.

Gripping the bottom of her pullover blouse, I lifted it as she raised her arms to allow it to slide off.  For a pudgy girl, she looked mighty fine.  Large, milky breasts snuggled in her bra.  A bit of a belly, but it just pooched out, no sag.  Definitely a waist.  Everywhere was firm, not jiggly fat.  Yum!  I reached around, unfastened her bra, and slid it down her arms.  Her breasts hardly sagged at all.  God bless youth.  Smooth, milky skin all over, with large pink areola tipped with darker pink erect nipples.  I lightly rubbed my palms around her breasts, ending in making circular motions on her nipples, feeling them stand firmer against my hands.  She stood there, staring at my face with a vague expression of excitement.  Her breathing became deeper and faster.

Duplicating me, she lifted my t-shirt off, then pressed herself against my hairy chest.  “Mmmm, that feels good,” she sighed.  “The roughness of your hair is wonderful.  Not like those little boys.”  I wondered if that was an exaggeration that she thought would make me feel better.  Whatever.  I stroked my fingers up and down her spine a few times before slipping them in under the hem of her jeans.  That caused her to press against me harder, but her jeans were too tight.  I could only get about halfway down her butt cheeks. 

Pulling my hands out I knelt before her and unfastened her jeans.  I had a flash of déjà vu recalling doing something very similar in that living room a year ago with her dad’s wife while he snored and snorted on the couch in a drunken stupor.  Pulling her jeans and panties down together, my nose was hit by her scent as soon as they cleared her crotch.  Wow!  Some serious woman-in-heat odor.  I noticed a wet spot on her panties. 

After she stepped out of them, I said, “Spread your feet apart.” 

She complied and more of her delicious scent wafted toward me.  I placed my fingertips against the V of her legs and discovered she was almost dripping hot liquid silk.  Slipping them in slightly, I worked them around the opening of her well, spreading her juices around her labia and onto my fingers.  Her legs trembled slightly.  As I removed my now-wet fingers from her slit, I looked up between her heaving breasts to her face.  Her eyes were glazed; lips parted, breathing slightly ragged, she stared back at me.  When I placed my fingers to my mouth and licked her from them, she whimpered as her whole body gave a small shudder.  Damn, she tasted good.  Young women have a freshness to their flavor that I’d forgotten about.  I wanted more.

Standing up, I told her to take my pants off.  She knelt, unfastened my jeans, and duplicating what I did, she slid them and my underwear off together.  Damn, girl, make sure the dick is free first.  It pulled down somewhat painfully before springing free.  Almost whacked her in the face.  She jerked back in surprise, looked up at me and we both laughed.  Removing my tennis shoes first, she then slipped my jeans off.  Now we were both naked, her kneeling before my hard cock, just inches from her face. 

“Have you ever sucked a dick?” I asked.  She shook her head.  “Ever wanted to?”  She nodded.

“I don’t know how.”

“Ever sucked on a lollypop?”

“Yes.”

“It’s just like that, only bigger.  Go for it.”

She grasped my shaft in her right hand, opened her mouth wide, and slid it over my cock with her tongue along the underside.  Then she closed her lips and began working at me with her tongue, just like a lollypop.  What a hot fucking sight she was.

“Keep doing what you’re doing and slide your mouth up and down the length of my dick,” I instructed.  “Think of your mouth as your pussy and fuck me with it.”  I expected some sort of reaction to those words, but she simply complied, adding some suction to her movements.  Damn, this girl was a natural.  She was going to make some guy very happy someday.  Hell, she was making me happy right then.

After a couple of minutes, I placed my hands on either side of her head, stopping her motion.  She looked up at me and I smiled as I started moving myself in and out, fucking her mouth.  “This is good, too.  Now the lollypop is doing the work.”  She snickered around my dick.  I fucked her mouth for a couple more minutes, but we were against a deadline, so time to move on. 

“My turn to do you.  Lay back with your legs spread wide so I can go down on you.  Has that happened before?”  She pulled her mouth from my cock and said it had, but only briefly before the guy hopped on her.  Pity.  Stupid boys.  Yeah, I was one of those once, too.

She did as I said, and her glistening pussy opened before me.  Her clit was prominent, peeking out from between her inner lips; her woman’s well was open and filled with nectar, outer labia obviously swollen.  I stretched out between her legs and went right to work.  Slipping my tongue into her well, her juices flowed out onto my short beard.  I heard a sharp intake of breath.  Pressing firmly with the tip, I moved my tongue up to that rubbery nub.  She sucked air in through her teeth as I began stroking her clit.  Her hips began rocking to match my strokes and her fingers laced into the hair on my head.  “Oh, God, yes,” she moaned.  Looking up between her heaving breasts I saw her head rolling back and forth, eyes closed, lips parted, tongue tip peeking out.  Time to move on.

Moving my hand to under my chin, I slipped my index and middle fingers into her dripping well.  She gasped, “Easy! Please.”  Fuck, I forgot she was almost a virgin.  Pulling the index finger out, I began slowly fucking her with the middle one.  “Yes, that’s it.  Oh, that’s good.”  My thumb explored below her vagina and found her juices had flowed down over her anus.  I pressed down on it slightly with my thumb.  Her movements stopped.  “What?  No!  Not there.”  I removed my thumb and continued my work with middle finger and tongue.  She returned to her heated responses. 

After a short while, I again tried to include my index finger in her pussy.  She stopped her motions again but said nothing as I slowly eased it in alongside its middle brother.  Once they were both in, I began a slow in and out motion.  Her hip motions returned as she adjusted to the added filling.  Now her whimpering and moaning increased, as did her grip on my hair.  She would be ready to fuck soon. 

I lifted my head and when she looked down, I moved my fingers from her pussy to my mouth, sucking her nectar from them. It seemed to me that her eyes glazed more, and I noticed then that she was massaging her breasts and pinching her nipples. 

Moving up over her, I grabbed my cock and guided it just into her well.  She placed her hands on my chest. “Easy.  Go slow.”  I did, inching myself into her with short, gentle strokes.  Using the hand that had guided my cock, I reached down and urged her knee up.  She moved both legs together, lifting her feet slightly off the floor, tilting her pussy to a more accommodating angle.  Then, instead of the short strokes, I slowly sank my shaft into her until our pubic hairs were meshed.  She let out a wail that may have been from pain, may have been from pleasure, probably was some of both, but she didn’t try to stop me or push me back.  I lay there, allowing her time to adjust to the filling.

When her hands moved from my chest to my back, I began a slow, long stroking in and out of her.  God, she was tight.  Good thing she was so wet.  I’d forgotten what young pussy was like.  She was trembling and making sounds that were almost like crying.  Looking at her face, though, she wasn’t in distress, but lust.  After several strokes, I began grinding against her clit when I bottomed.  She returned the motions.  I picked up the pace. 

“Can I be on top?” she whispered breathlessly.  Suited me.  Holding her to me, I rolled us over onto my back.  The positioning of her legs caused her to end up kneeling over me.  Perfect.  I lay there, seeing what she would do.  Yep, just as I expected, she began working her hips, pumping herself up and down on me.  Again, I thought that she was a natural.  Hell, if she went that way, she could probably make a lot of money pleasuring the rich and powerful.  I chuckled to myself thinking of John and Donna’s reaction to that lifestyle choice, should she make it. 

Her wetness was on my balls as the air was filled with the squishy sounds of her pussy sliding on my cock.  I was massaging her ass, encouraging her to continue her motions.  Slowly, I worked my fingers to her pussy where I massaged her labia around my cock.  She shuddered and whimpered as her movements increased.  I stroked my finger from her pussy to asshole, spreading her juices to lubricate that little orifice.  She whimpered and shook her head. “No, it will hurt,” she said. I pressed against it.  “Oooh.”  I pressed harder.  “It hurts.”  But her motions never changed. 

I released the pressure on her anus, scooped up some more nectar oozing from her pussy, and returned to her anus.  This time as I pressed the finger against her orifice, she only whimpered.  Pressing harder, the finger slipped in to the first knuckle.  She cried out and a spasm shook her body, but her fucking my dick never changed.  “Just like losing your first virginity,” I said.  Holding my finger there, I began to fuck her back, rising to meet her moving down, holding her tight against me as I ground into her crotch before lifting her slightly as I pulled out.  Her wetness increased as did my speed.

Her movements became faster and more forceful, humping my cock with my finger in her ass.  She lost coherency with her sounds.  Her breasts were heavy against my chest, nipples poking me, scrubbing against the hairs as she pumped on me. She pulled her head up and looked at me with an expression that seemed to be a mixture of pain, disbelief, and lust.  I’m not sure she could even see me; she was lost in the orgasm that was taking her over.  Then she gave a cry that sounded like a muffled scream crossed with a sob as she drove herself hard down on my cock, grinding her clit against me as the head of my dick crushed against her cervix.  Her entire being seemed to shudder as wetness flooded from her.  Hell, she had my own asshole wet. 

After several seconds, the tension faded.  She lowered herself to lie upon me.  I could feel her pussy muscles continuing to milk my cock and that was about to put me over the edge.  That would never do.  I couldn’t cum in her, no way.  Shit, I wished I were wearing a rubber.  She gave a whimper as I pulled my finger from her ass.  Yeah, she eventually enjoyed it.  I rolled us over into the missionary position again.  Her legs pulled up and I began stroking into her.  She grunted on each downstroke, tightening her arms around me.  Her heels were on my butt, pulling and encouraging me on.  It was pretty obvious she was done, but wanted me to cum.  Her muscles grasped me each time I pulled out, then relaxed to allow me to drive in, burying myself to the hilt.  Damn, she was fine. 

My orgasm hit, quicker than I expected.  I yanked out of her and stroked myself off on her belly, spewing squirt after squirt of ropey white semen.  It filled her navel, some almost made it to her breasts, and the ending dribbles landed in her pubic hair.  Then I realized she was stroking my chest and pinching my nipples. 

I was shaking all over as my orgasm subsided.  She placed a hand behind my head, pulling it down for a deep, long kiss.  Then she whispered into my ear, “That was wonderful.  Now I feel like a real woman.  Thank you.” 

She asked for a wet dish towel, which I fetched and watched as she cleaned my cum from her belly, as well as her wetness from her nether regions.  Then she wiped my soft cock and balls down, giving it a quick peck with her lips when finished.  I’d sure like to put it in her mouth while it was wet with her juices.  Maybe someday.  Something told me she’d probably like it.

We got dressed and I was just leaving as John and Donna returned.  Fuck, there was no way they could miss the smell of fresh sex.  Oh, well.  She was eighteen.