“Ricky?” I asked him point blank, pulling away to look him right in the eye, “Do you want me?”
“Oh… oh… damn!” he exploded, trembling nervously as I helped him guide me to the sofa, “Oh, Mrs. Bryan… Denise…”
I unhooked the bra top and took it off as I lay down, then untied the briefs at each side. Poor Ricky was beside himself, struggling to get out of his clothes. I particularly liked the way his hard penis got caught on the waistband of his shorts and vibrated up and down when he pulled them off. He had a small penis, but the pencil- stiffness of it absolutely fascinated me.
Ricky was nervous and clumsy as he mounted me. I fully expected him to go off like a rabbit, and I was anticipating how I would revive him. I already had visions of sucking him back up to erection, and the idea pleased me. But what pleased me more was his performance. To my great surprise, Ricky did not go off like a rabbit.
To my great surprise and pleasure, once he had put his organ inside me and begun the movements, the measured thrusts at just the right angle so that my clitoris contacted his shaft on each downward stroke, the nervousness went away. He brought me to orgasm within less than a minute the first time, and then my multiples started. He lasted with me a full ten or fifteen minutes and our rapport was such that I had no trouble in gauging my best climax to coincide with his ejaculation.
I found myself in a particularly relaxed and gay mood then and, unlike so many of my male friends of older age and more experience, Ricky seemed to know that a girl liked to be hugged and kissed and caressed long after the climax. In a matter of minutes he had revived my interest sufficiently, so that I was eager to revive his.
“Have you ever been with a woman before, Ricky?' I asked curiously, licking his nipples and his belly.
“Not… exactly,” he told me, reaching down to feel my breasts. “When I had a paper route…I guess I was 14, almost 15, this woman asked me inside when I was collecting one night. She only had on panties. She scared me, I'll tell you. Her husband was there too, see, and they wanted to both play around. He sucked me off and she kissed me and all, and then she taught me how to have intercourse.”
“You've got a nice tool, darling,” I said working it up and down between my fingers. “Did you like it when he sucked you?”
“Oh, I'm not a sissy… but I went of!” he said, breathing heavier in anticipation. “It's better if a girl does it.”
“Have you ever had a girl do it?”
“Once… only once,” he said, rubbing my back up toward my shoulders so that my head was gently pushed down farther, “You remember Ellie Warren, that got kicked out of school? That little broad used to suck off guys for a dollar at lunch period in the janitor's closet near the gym. Ha… I got her for nothing because I'd send other guys to her.”
“Ricky… I'm going to suck you off,” I announced very boldly, in a manner befitting my mood.
I could actually feel it stiffen between my fingers when I said that, it excited him so. As I mentioned, he had a small one, larger than a pencil, of course, yet that is what it reminded me of. I enjoyed the feel of it, and inside my mouth it was like nothing I had had before. He made a few noises as he came, but it was nothing like the more powerful and grateful passion of an adult male.
I couldn't help but enjoy myself with Ricky, however. It was an experiment, a new and different kind of experience, and I wanted to make the best of it. I had him stay for supper and let him drink two beers, and I had just a very pleasant and wonderful time with him. It was so intriguing to be with a youth like this in and adult situation.
Later in the evening, I made him excited again by letting him play with my breasts and kiss them. I had a very strong urge for him to have rectal intercourse with me. The size of his penis would have been just right. The idea absolutely fascinated me. Yet there was something within my strange conscience somewhere that forbade me to do it. I don't know why I should have drawn the line there, but I did.
I went down on him again and he seemed to try to hold off. When I asked him why, he said he wanted to have regular intercourse to orgasm. We did and I enjoyed it even more this time, although it was nothing really special. I would have preferred to suck him until he came and swallow his discharge. There was something about doing that to Ricky that gave me a great deal of psychological as well as physical pleasure. I was at a loss to explain why at the time.
“I want… well, I'd like to know that I can come visit you again like this,” Ricky asked me as he was leaving, “Maybe in the afternoons sometime when we both need a little, huh?”
“Ricky, this could become a problem if we're not very careful,” I began talking realistically, evidently not recalling that I was probably on my way out anyway. “We'll have to be very careful. In addition to everything else, I have a jealous boyfriend, and my daughter… will be home for the summer very soon. You can call me sometime… as if you wanted to come over about the school drama club. If it's all right, I'll tell you to come over.”
“I love you, Mrs. Bryant,” he told me in a nervous whisper, then kissed me on the cheek and left.
I sat around thinking about Ricky for quite a while, dreaming idiotic dreams about how nice it would be to take a boy like him and make him into a really satisfying lover, train him to please me in every way as often as I liked. I toyed with the idea very pleasurably for some time and came up with some pretty wild fantasies.
We were alone together driving the freeways and stopping at motels and staying at beach resorts. Whenever I felt in the mood, I would take off my clothes and say, “Ricky, I want you to go down on me.” or “Ricky… backside… in easy now.” I fancied myself as using him as a Virtual slave to my passions and reveling in his adoration of me as a basically sexual animal.
It was during this reverie that the telephone began to ring and brought me back to my senses. My first thought, of course, was that it would be Charley wanting to come over and make love. I was definitely not in the mood for that. What I wanted to do was take a long perfumed bath and then a drink or two and go quietly to bed and purr to myself with impossible thoughts of Ricky. Not that I was serious about him. The ideas just seemed to be pleasant and comfortable.
“I'll be in town there most of the summer,” were the words that came over the phone as soon as I answered, “I want you to prepare for my staying with you. I mean, tell the neighbors and the boyfriends that your real lover has returned.”
“Bob?” I said with a touch of surprise and shock when I realized who it was, “You… you've got nerve you haven't even used yet. I'm sorry, lover, you'll have to try your routine on one of your other shack jobs.”
“Denise, I have had a very rough two years,” he lowered his voice and began to speak with that pseudo- sincerity of his. “This comes straight from the heart, Denise. You have never been out of my thoughts. I think by now that Kathy must have confessed to her preposterous lie. She's a much more mature girl now, and I would hope that you have also reconsidered and are more appreciative of what I tried to do for you that summer.”
“I'm getting mar…,” I started to tell him, planning to say that I was really going to marry Charley, but then I cut my speech short as a brilliant idea suddenly occurred to me, “Bob… you've had to play roles, do a lot of acting and all in your work, haven't you?”
“My dear, I have been posing as fatuous and stupid American tourist in the East for two years!” he yelled at me. “Of course I do a lot of acting. Now, what is this sudden professional interest in my acting ability?”
“Bob, could you pose as my ex-husband…?” I asked him, very excited by the plan that was forming in my mind. “Bob, I have a problem with this man. I can't afford to just ditch him. He's an important man locally, and the chairman of the school board. The idiot wants to divorce his wife and marry me. But… if you could pretend to be my ex-husband…”
“Very well… very well,” he answered before I had finished, exasperation coming through in his voice, “Yes, I'll bail you out of this mess. Of course, I can play the part. Just you don't forget that my name is Bob 'Bryant'… or does he know your husband's name was Mai?”
“No… that's fine. You'll be Bob Bryant,” I agreed readily, feeling so wonderfully relieved of a monstrous burden. “That's good, isn't it. I mean, so long as I can call you Bob… I'm not likely to slip up.”
“Well, of course, you stupid bitch!” he railed at me unpleasantly, realizing I was at his mercy now, that I needed him desperately, more than he needed me, “Do you have a pencil and paper?”
“Well… yes…”
“All right, take down this address,” he ordered me, “Lincolnia Motel Courts and Golf Club, Paso Delta, California. Wire me three hundred dollars first thing tomorrow, and I'll be there tomorrow night.”
“Three hundred dollars?” I shouted, “Bob… my bank account is probably overdrawn now… and I've got less than forty dollars in the house…”
