I’ve never told anyone this story, but when I was 17, my ex-GF’s mom seduced me.
It started on a ski trip with her family. She had been a cheerleader in high school, and was a tall, voluptuous blonde and I was a straight A student athlete, with a ripped body and huge mane of hair. stayed up late watching a movie, and everyone including my GF went to sleep early. We drank wine together and sat close to each other on the bed, and I’ll admit that I had a hard on all night long. I was so naive that I figured she wouldn’t notice it if I kept my shorts covered up under the blanket, but a few times I had to use the bathroom, and it just wouldn’t go down.
That first night, we sat next to each other for several hours, and in spite of her finishing off a good portion of a bottle of wine, we never touched. We just talked, pretended to watch a movie and talked some more.
I was a kid from a large family, starving for attention, and she showered it on me.
A few weeks later, I needed a ride home. It was a 12 mile drive and my parents were out of town, so I called her collect (that’s how broke I was, senior in a private high school, paying my way through.
As she got close to my home, she intentionally drove past it and around the block, and stopped the van in front of a dark house. I knew she wanted to talk more. I sensed she did not want the conversation to stop. She turned off the van, and shifted toward me in her seat. As I shifted the same way, we were suddenly face to face, and all I could think about was how good she smelled.
Our faces were close for a long, long moment, and then she leaned in and kissed me hard on the mouth, and then pulled away quickly as if she were ashamed. And then she grabbed me again and pulled me down to my knees in between the two captains chairs and kissed me again, long and hard.
I’d never experienced a kiss like this—so passionate and intense—and it turned me on like nothing else. No Playboy magazine could compare to this
There was an electricity in the air as I inhaled her perfume and for a moment, she half straddled me, and she devoured my tongue, and made my lips tingle. There was something so powerful that the sensation lingered for hours afterward after she dropped me off without saying much.
As I was leaving, all she said was,
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the night in the cabin
up north. This has to stay between us, or I won’t be able
to see you again.”
I didn’t know what to think about all that as I struggled to exit the van without damaging my youthful and very apparent manhood, and tried to put on my game-face before re-entering the real world that was my life.
Another day she offered me a ride home—right after the biggest soccer game of my life—but since my parents had not shown up to watch the game, and her daughter, a cheerleader, was going out with friends, I needed a ride. I readily accepted, thinking it might lead to another kiss.
This time she pulled the van over behind a strip mall that faced out over a drainage ditch. She turned off the key, and smiled nervously at me.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
“Sure…” I replied, nervously.
“I have something for you…” She said with a mischievous look in her eye.
“OK…you didn’t have to….” I stammered, wondering what it could be.
“Reach into my jean’s pocket…” she said.
She was a very attractive blonde woman, and at 33 years old, she was in very good shape. In high school she had been the head of the cheerleading squad, and had married the captain of the football team. She gave him her virginity as a graduation gift the night they graduated. She favored tight jeans, and as I reached in her pocket, I wondered if there would be a locket or a gold cross or some token of her affection for me.
My naiveté was short-lived.
As my trembling fingers reached inside, my heart leaped. She had cut the pockets out of the jeans and I was feeling her naked skin. And then she kissed me deep on the lips, and then her hand trailed across the revival-sized tent in my jeans, and before I knew it, I was fingering her through her pocket, and she released my massive hard-on from the bondage of my tight jeans.
Even in the dark, I was blushing, not accustomed to having anyone appreciate what for me was often a source of embarrassment—this huge thing between my legs that got hard when the wind blew.
After 5-10 minutes, she came and began working on me in earnest. She was alternating between an exquisite hand job and a blow job (my very first), and I was so close. You know when your body finally shuts off your mind, and you stop feeling guilty, stop worrying, and start enjoying?
That’s when a loud knock on the window ended the moment—and any hopes of me cumming in her mouth.
She composed herself and rolled down the window, which was fogged over now.
A policeman was standing there with his flashlight aimed into the van.
“Evening ma’am. Is everything OK?” He asked, peering into the hothouse her car had become.
“Yes, officer. We are just talking. And then she leaned toward him and batted her eyes and pushed her breasts together without being too obvious.
“He’s having problems at home. A family friend.”
The officer accepted that and left.
She took me home, and made him promise not to ever tell
anyone, or it would be over.
“If utter one word, this will not be able to happen anymore”
She didn’t need to warn me twice.
Our next sexual encounter occurred at a park, and it was another hurried affair. We climbed in the back of this Dodge van, where there was a big space behind the rear seat and she pulled out my always hard cock, and lifted her skirt, pulled aside her silk panties and mounted me. Within 3 minutes she came all over me, and then pulled off of me and proceeded to start sobbing. That killed any chance of me getting to cum. She was so emotional, and I was so young, I didn’t know what to do besides pout.
Eventually my pouting paid off.
She had told me she needed to think about it, so for two weeks, I ignored her. I didn’t answer or return her calls.
Then one day, she just called my house (this was before caller ID) and I happened to answer and before I could hang up, she said, “Be in front of your house in half hour,” and then the line went dead.
She was wearing daisy dukes short shorts, no panties this time and a halter top, and it was all I could do not to demand she pull over so we could fuck. We barely talked en route to her house. I fingered her for a while, but she pushed me away and claiming she couldn’t concentrate, so I moved back into my seat and sulked.
When we finally pulled into her driveway, I was so thick and so hard, it was like something out a teenage movie about being a frustrated teenage boy. Fortunately, everyone was gone, and not due back for at least an hour, maybe two. But with all the kids and cousins and friends who randomly dropped by, it was very risky.
She led me into the laundry room, bent over the washer and said,
“Take me, fuck me, fill me with that huge cock of yours…”
I don’t remember anything after that. It was like that moment when a shark sinks his teeth into his prey, and his big black eyes roll back in his head. I do remember my hot, white cum dripping down coating her short shorts and dripping onto her pile of laundry, including several pairs of panties….and I just smiled.
And slipped a pair in my pocket for later.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/a1nmnz/m4f_i_was_17_she_was_33_and_marriedfirst_time_i