I probably should have expected something like this.
After all, I was a rather established 27-year-old and dating a 23-year-old colleague, who was sitting on the couch in her parents’ living room and ardently sucking my cock with skill and enthusiasm that was well beyond her tender years.
I was the manager of a restaurant and Ngozi had recently become one of our hostesses, and she was basically hired the minute she walked in the door a few weeks ago with those long, slender, mini-skirt-clad legs of hers. During the interview process, I quickly found out that she was also a student at the State University, and she looked the part to a tee. Long, curly, bouncy hair, tall, thin, and a bust that filled out a sweater like two footballs being fumbled.
We had been out a few times already, and though we hadn’t fucked her yet, mainly because she was a virgin, Ngozi took to my cock like a puppy takes to a chew toy. This timid virgin made no bones about the fact that she released her sexual frustration by sucking dick, and since mine approached eight inches on a good night, Ngozi displayed quite an affinity to wrapping her mouth around it several times an evening during our brief time together thus far.
And this was a good night. A definite eight inches good night.
Tonight, after we had closed the restaurant, I offered Ngozi a ride home to her parents’ house, since I was a philanthropist, of course. The very real possibility of having my dick sucked by this young vixen had little to do with it. Although, if the situation presented itself I would be more than gracious enough to offer my stiff member to her eager lips, strictly to advance Ngozi’s fledgling oral education.
I’m a gentleman that way.
When we reached her front door, Ngozi informed me that her dad was away on a business trip, and her mom was apparently asleep upstairs since the bedroom lights were all turned off.
She made a shushing sound with a finger to her bright red lips, guided me to the couch, and whispered in my ear that she would return soon. I was nervous being in her home with her mom upstairs, but my good pal Mr. Lennyson, who was straining against my zipper like a fish on a hook, seemed to have no problem with the scenario as he wiggled and waggled happily, precum already providing a slippery coating on my shaft.
He, Mr. Lennyson, was not to be disappointed.
Ngozi returned downstairs wearing the proverbial fantasy outfit, the Catholic Schoolgirl clothing, short pleated skirt, and knee highs. She had been wearing a buttoned-up white blouse with black tie, but somewhere along the trip to her bedroom, she undid the tie and unbuttoned the blouse until you could see most of her young firm tits. On her back, she had a cute teddy-bear shaped backpack, just for special effect. A nice touch.
To make matters worse, her shoulder-length hair done up in two pigtails. I couldn’t help myself, I instantly released my pole from its prison, and one hand went to the top of her head as my eyes rolled up as she knelt in front of me and began to trace tiny, wet kisses over my twitching dick.
The orally-fixated lady took a firm stroking grip at the base of my cock, guided it to her full lips, and flicked her tongue across the tip. Next came slower licks just on the head, longer and flatter, like she give to an ice-cream cone.
Something in the back of my mind made a mental note that there was a slight bumping sound coming from another room, but my attention was understandably diverted and when Ngozi took a breath for just a brief second, Mr. Lennyson glared at me with that evil one-eye and silently demanded that I not give it another thought.
Ngozi smiled and resumed her descent to my engorged dick, and her mouth worked circles around the ridge and then teased again, gently sucking the head. With her other hand, she caressed my heavy balls with expertise that belied her chronological age, then tugged them towards me as she took them fully into her warm mouth.
Her wonderful ball-sucking caused me to squeeze my eyes shut and I tossed his head back with a soft moan. I began to thrust my hips, wanting to face-fuck her now, so she went back to teasing, licking her snaking tongue over the wrinkles of my scrotum, then again sucking each side into her mouth, caressing my cock with her hands as she did.
She licked lines from my balls up the shaft and nibbled the seam along the way. Again Ngozi took only the head of my cock into her mouth, nothing more, and as I opened my eyes, mine locked into the watching eyes of a very horny-looking tall woman.
Only it wasn’t Ngozi. Ngozi was munching on my balls.
This new lady, a spitting image of Ngozi, was dressed in a robe that draped loosely over her body, exposing the tops of two very promising globes, and she smiled a wicked grin at me as her daughter sucking spiritedly on my meaty dick. She made the same shushing motion that Ngozi had made to me when we entered the house a few minutes ago. Like mother, like daughter.
Lady number two, the mature version of Ngozi, altered her admiring gaze from my cock sliding in and out of her only child’s mouth and wrapped the belt of her robe tightly around her, and her face suddenly contorted into one of a very pissed-off mom.
“Ngozi, just what the HELL are you doing?” As Ngozi jumped up, her schoolgirl skirt flared high off of her waist so that I could see the lovely little pink thong that she wore under her uniform. Funny a guy can notice such a detail even when a mom has just caught her giving head to him.
Shocked, blushing, mortified, Ngozi began to shake visibly. “Mom, I…..we just….oh, I didn’t……” Ngozi ran out of words, throwing herself on the mercy of Judge Mom’ court, and started to sob.
Meanwhile, every impulse I had told me that I should zip up and depart, pronto, but Mr. Lennyson was sending me private signals that sounded like, “Easy, now, boy, whoa, don’t tuck me in just yet, lemme watch this show for a spell.”
Why is it that Mr. Lennyson always wins? He’s so persuasive.
Mrs. Obioma admonished her daughter, seemingly oblivious to Ngozi’s complete embarrassment at being caught in the act of playing with my dick. She eyed Ngozi’s attire with disdain.
“Go upstairs and take off your outfit, young lady, and go to bed. You and I will address this in the morning.” Ngozi’s wide eyes pleaded with her mom for forgiveness, but Mrs. Obioma held firm, steely-eyed, looking directly at me now, menacingly.
“Go, upstairs, now.” Ngozi scurried off like a shamed squirrel who had dropped the walnut, as Ngozi mom’s impassively stared at me. And was it my imagination, or was she really staring at my still-exposed and very hard cock? “I’ll next deal with this not-so-young man.”
Mrs. Obioma waited until she heard the door to Ngozi’s bedroom slam shut. She looked at me. I looked at her. She looked at my cock, longer than she needed to, so I thought. I looked down at her robe and tried to envision what was under it, though from what little I could tell, it was apparent where Ngozi had inherited her beauty.
Finally, after what seemed like forever (isn’t it funny how awkward silence seems infinitely prolonged?), she spoke. More specifically, she uttered an inquiry in a surprisingly husky voice.
“My daughter is still a virgin, I presume?”
I heaved a sigh of relief, knowing I could respond to this question truthfully.
“Yes, she is, I swear.” I began to tug at my cock, trying to place it back into its rightful hiding place but was interrupted by one raised index finger by Mrs. Obioma.
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