[Fm] [m-mast] [voy] [oral] [str8] The swimming pool (Part 2)

*This is the second (and maybe last) part of Luke and Jane’s sexual adventure*

Luke went to the pool every day, without fail at the same time. She wasn’t there. Not the first day. Not the second. Not for a week. He spent his days longing to see her again, masturbating to the fantasy of her, and in fear that she would somehow reach to his family and humiliate him.

She avoided the pool. She was afraid of running into him again. Of falling pray to the temptation. The shower head was her loving companion every night, as her husband lay in bed, sleeping, ignoring her beauty, leaving her unfulfilled. He had fallen pray to habit, to comfort, and forgot to want his own wife, to lust after her. And she was left to her own devices, pleasuring herself, quietly moaning over the sound of the shower, fantasizing about the young boy that had cum for her in the swimming pool, with no restraint, nothing but his primal carnal lust for her.

She wanted him. She couldn’t believe it, she was ashamed of it, but she wanted him. And yet she could not have him. Laws and morality forbade it. And so she avoided the pool, hoping to never run into him again, hoping that over time her lust would go away, that he would forget.

But defense, defense is a tough act. You may succeed a million times, and yet one small mistake cost you everything. And that is what happened to her.

She walked by his house, unaware, and couldn’t help but look through the window. The motion probably what captured her glance. He was in his bed. Naked. His legs spread wide. His cock thick and hard wrapped in his hand. He was handsome, he was a portrait of lust.
She looked. She gasped.
He noticed. He looked.
They recognized each other.

Was he fucking himself at the thought of her? If he wasn’t before, he was now. Too horny to feel shame, too horny to feel anything but more arousal, he stood her glance, and kept going. He kept stroking. Putting on a show almost. Thrusting his hips. She was mesmerized. Helplessly aroused. She was putty in the hands of the boy on the other side of the window. He was young, and he came quickly. The expression of pure primal passion in his face as his cream shot out of him, and landed on his hand, that expression led her straight to her own pleasure. She had to lean against the wall, as she panted and gasped and moaned. She had never orgasmed without being touched before, and she had Luke to thank for it.

She ran off, scared at her own thoughts. Scared that she almost knocked at that door, walked herself into the house, and rode herself to pleasure on his cock. Scared that she could want so much. That the fire in her loins was so strong. She had forgotten it. And he had revived it.

She spent all night awake, unable to sleep. Her husband, the partner of a lifetime, so peaceful, so somber, at peace with the world. But she, she was tormented. She already knew she would go back to the house and seduce the young boy. But she had to suffer her way through accepting what she was capable of in the pursuit of sexual release.

Morning came. She was ready. She picked her nicest dress. And wore no underwear underneath it. She was ready. She was a sexual beast and she was going to have her prize. She walked to the house. Scoped it. Like a creepy stalker. A couple walked out, kissed each other goodbye, and went their separate merry ways.

“Is it now? My moment?” she thought to herself. She hesitated. “What if they come back? What if there’s somebody else? What will I say?” She didn’t know. And she didn’t care. The memory of Luke’s orgasm, and the desire to be the maker of his pleasure, it was bigger, stronger. She knocked. She waited. She knocked again.

It was him. Luke. He opened the door. “Hi”, he said to her, before he recognized her. And blushed.
“Hi. I am Jane. Can I talk to you for a second?” she told him.

“Is, is… anything wrong?”, he asked.
“No, nothing. I just want to chat. Can I come in?”

He let her in. Terrified. That she would accuse him of something, tell him that he talked to his teachers, to police, to his family. That he would be arrested, taken away never to return home.

“Are you mad at me?”, he broke the silence.
“No, why would I?”
“Well”, the boy answered, “because of what happened. At the pool. At the window.”
“That was beautiful”, she answered. “It was sexual, erotic, and I loved it”
“Oh, you did?”. He was genuinely surprised. He thought he would be in trouble. And yet there she was, the object of his desires, complimenting him.
“Yes. I loved it. But I want you to understand that we can’t have more. I can’t fuck you.”
Fuck him? Oh my. Not even in his wildest dreams would she be in his house, talking about fucking him. She had just denied him the opportunity, but he heard what he wanted to her. Jane. Fuck him.

“Fuck me? Oh. I…”
“No, no, no fucking. We can’t fuck”

Teenagers either believe the world is theirs to own and do with as they please, or they feel insecure and worthless. Sometimes both. Luke didn’t know how, didn’t know where he got the energy from, but he believed he could have her.

“And yet you’re here talking about it. You want it, don’t you?”
“Yes”, she admitted. She was older than him, an adult, and she knew what she wanted, and there was no bullshit around it. Yes, she wanted him, and she was honest with it. “Yes, I want to fuck you. I really do.”
“Then do it”, he told her, “fuck me.” and to add insult to injury, he unbuttoned his pants, exposed his already hard cock to her. It was the last stroke, the one that broke the camel’s back.

She knelt before him, vanquished by a lover whose name she didn’t even know, and took his hard cock in her mouth. And sucked it. Tasted every inch of it with her tongue, tickled the tip, licked through the shaft, cupped his balls in her hand.

Heaven. He felt in heaven. He didn’t know sex could feel so wonderful. She was sending waves of pleasure to his brain, making him moan and shake with desire. His hips thrusting against her mouth uncontrollably. He had to have her. She had to have him.

She pushed him against the couch, and lowered herself on him. Her dress flew away. Her pussy was in charge. She guided his hand on her breasts, she led him to kiss her. “Bite my neck” she moaned. “Pull my hair”. He was tense, nervous he would cum too quickly, that she would laugh at him. His bites were gentle, his pulling almost tender. Oh how sweet and naive he was. “Hurt me” she begged him. She wanted to feel the pang of pain. “Harder”. He finally found his rhythm, his bites forceful at last.

“Cum in me” she told him. He was too young and immature to worry about pregnancy, but she was safe anyway. And she wanted his cum. That cum she had seen in the pool, and again through the window, now she wanted to feel it. And she rode hard. She moaned for him. She let her breasts bounce. She talked dirty to him. She put on a show of pure seduction, of unbridled carnal desire. And it worked, for he groaned, and shot his seed deep inside of her, where she wanted it.

They laid next to each other. They smiled. They laughed. She was in seventh heaven. And in hell. All at once. She felt loved. Wanted. Desired. She felt alive again. Sexual. And yet what had she just done? She had fucked a boy over 20 years her junior. Probably a virgin, even. Was she crazy? His worries, those, were much simpler. Had he done a good job? Would she fuck him again?

*Feedback encouraged, and do let me know if you would like a third part*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/axhb52/fm_mmast_voy_oral_str8_the_swimming_pool_part_2