Chapter 1
"Is this your first fuck, honey?"
Gayle Sturgeon was already completely naked. She was propped against the headboard of the huge bed and was staring at Billy Joe as he unbuttoned his shirt.
The young man grunted a reply that could be interpreted in any way the older woman wanted. He slipped another button through its hole and let his eyes wander over the still lush and desirable body of the older woman.
Gayle Sturgeon was perhaps forty or forty-three years of age and still boasted the same measurements she had had over twenty years before. True, there had been a certain maturation to her flesh, but her breasts were still firm and her stomach muscles were still toned after three children. The soft tuft of auburn hair covering her love mound was untouched by the chemist's hue and Billy Joe could see that it was already dampening in eager expectation of what was about to happen.
"God, you're slow!" Gayle sounded peevish. "Hurry up, will you?"
It was always the same, Billy Joe thought. Always exactly the same. Maybe that was why he liked it this way. He grunted again trying to appear shy and unused to what was about to happen.
"Can't go any faster than I am," he said. "These buttons are tight."
He knew what was happening to her. She had the hots. They all had the hots. Hell, he knew what he was built like and what he looked like. Big blue, innocent eyes that he worked on making seem more innocent even though they'd seen nearly twice as much as any man twice his age. Man, he almost laughed out loud. Hell, he was only eighteen and here she was in her forties.
But he liked it that way. As he slipped his sleeves out of his shirt, he felt the hot desire in her as her eyes rolled over his muscular, young torso.
Billy Joe liked his sex this way. His eyes never moved. Like a laser beam of curiosity they stared directly at Gayle's center of love. He could almost see her delicate inner nerves pulsating in a maddening increase of desire. He really could see the little beads of hot moisture seeping from within the hot channel of her passion and glistening on the auburn hair or moistening the flesh of her upper thighs.
Then, he saw the movement he had waited for. She closed her eyes tightly and he saw her clench the fingers of her hands tightly together. Then her hands snaked across the sheets of the motel's bed and caressed her upper thighs.
"Jesus," she whined. "You're slow, boy. I just can't wait."
He fumbled with his fly. "Can't go any faster, lady."
"I can't help it." She was almost apologetic. "I just can't help it."
Billy Joe watched as she pulled her right hand upward to her groin and began to play her second finger in a slow rhythm against the hot knob of her clitoris. That's what he liked ... to watch them get so hot they just couldn't help themselves. They were so greedy, the old ones, not like the kids of eighteen and twenty who were so independent. No, he liked the older ones, the ones past thirty who knew about sex and were looking for it all the time.
Her eyes were closed now, but his were wide open as he stared at her moving finger. He slipped his legs out of his jeans and shoes and socks and then pulled his underdrawers down. He stood completely naked beside the bed, a young wanderer built like a Greek statue.
She could not see him. She was already bringing herself to her own private world of sexual pleasure from which she had now almost entirely excluded him.
"Hey," he said at length, still staring at her hand and its single moving finger, "can you really come off that way? I mean make yourself pop just playing with it like that?"
She opened her eyes. The moving finger stopped. He wasn't sure if her expression indicated that she was annoyed or puzzled or perhaps a little of both.
"Jesus I" she said. "You are really something else. Don't you want to fuck? Hell, there are guys who live in this town who would give their left nut for five minutes with me."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!" she said.
"You know I'm not from this town. Hell, I don't even hail from anywheres near here."
"Are you pulling my leg, boy?"
Billy Joe smiled his most ingratiating smile. He knew he looked pure and innocent and cherry. He shuffled one bare foot on the room's floor. "Hell no," he drawled. "I just ... well ... you know how it is the first time and all...."
The hard lines of her face softened. For a second, she might even have been described as looking compassionate. She lifted herself higher on the bed and extended both arms to him.
"C'mere," she said kindly. "I understand, believe me. I'm going to show you everything, Billy. And we're both going to have us some real far-out fun."
She drew him down to the bed and pulled him tightly but tenderly against the warm flesh of her naked body. She held him firmly for some long seconds and then began to play her lips over his face and neck and ears. As she toyed with his mouth and caressed his ears and chin with her tongue, her hands roved the hard muscular surfaces of his body until finally, she eased him onto his back and leaned over him.
Her right hand was now grasping his hard member, her large breasts swayed over his chest and her head leaned over his.
"You ever had a girl jack you off?" she asked.
Again he grunted. It was the same noncommittal sound he had made before--the same inchoate noise in his throat that could be interpreted in any way the listener chose.
"Bet it feels good, doesn't it?" she cooed as she began to move her hand up and down the length of his hard masculine shaft.
Again he grunted.
Then suddenly she stopped moving her hand. "Hey!" she said.
"What?"
"I'm just worried that you're going to be what I want, too."
"What's that?"
"Well, it isn't some young stud who's no stud at all."
"What do you mean by that?" "I mean, you better be able to get that thing up again after I get your nuts off for you, or you're going to have one angry woman here with you."
"Hell--" he almost laughed. "You just teach me anything you like," he drawled. "That ole thing can be as hard as you want it any time you want it hard. Don't you worry none about that."
He saw the flash of pure lust in her eyes and again felt her hand moving up and down on his manhood. That was what he liked. Lying there, doing nothing, having the woman make every move for him, teaching him all about her body and his own and going silently mad with lust because he wasn't supposed to know anything about the whole business.
Her large breasts swayed over his chest. He watched them--two huge pink-tipped pendulums swaying back and forth almost screaming out that they wanted to be touched, caressed by his knowing fingers or licked into tingling arousal by his tongue.
But he did not move. He let her do the moving. He let her guide the entire pattern of their lovemaking until he could see the slight flicker of exasperation in her eyes.
"Don't you like tittie?" she asked.
"Sure," he managed. "I guess so."
"Don't you want to play with them?"
"Play with them?"
"Touch them, Billy Joe. Put your fingers on my titties and squeeze the nipples. Oh yes, Billy Joe. Just like that. Make them sing for you. Oh. Jesus, Billy Joe, your hands feel good on me like that."
He knew what his hands felt like. He knew exactly where her nerves were and exactly how to fondle her nipples to make them receive the greatest possible pleasure from his ministrations.
As he fondled her hanging breasts, she continued to move her fist up and down the length of his penis in a faster and faster rhythm. Looking at her face, he realized she was wildly eager to have him ejaculate his semen on her and he was determined to please her in any way he could.
"You want me to shoot off?" he asked innocently.
"Yeah." she was almost gasping. "Yeah...."
"You want it on your titties?"
Her fist moved more rapidly. Her breathing became more heavy. She was now barely able to speak. "Yeah. Billy Joe. On my titties. Shoot it all over me ... all on me...."
He let her play with his organ for a few seconds more and then felt the great snapping well of release inside himself. He positioned his body so that he was aiming his member at her bosom and then saw the jetted spurt of semen soar high over them and spatter against her swaying breasts.
"Oh, yes," she gasped. "It's hot, Billy Joe. It's so hot!" She was kneeling over him, still playing gently with his penis, her eyes were shut now and her head was rolling as though it was she who had experienced the release, not he. They remained that way for some long moments. He looking at her, enjoying the post release pleasure of his own body and making that enjoyment double by the knowledge that he had thrilled her.
Finally, her hand still on his member, she lay down beside him on the big bed. She reached out to an end table where she had placed her purse when they had first come into the room, fumbled in it a moment and finally extracted a pack of cigarettes and a gold lighter.
"Smoke?" she offered him the pack.
"Don't use 'em," he told her.
She placed one in her mouth, lit it with the lighter and replaced the pack and lighter on the end table. She inhaled deeply and then exhaled a jet of smoke at the ceiling. Finally, still without looking at him, she squeezed his soft penis tentatively and asked, "You're sure you can get another hard-on?"
"Sure," he said. "Why not?"
"Well, it's not hard now."
"Hell," he said. "What do you want? Instant replay?"
She smiled. "Want to watch some movies?"
"Movies?"
"Sure," she said. "They've got closed circuit TV in this motel. Didn't you see the sign?"
"Nope."
"Well they do. Where are you from, anyway, Billy Joe?"
"Me? Hell," he drawled, "I can't rightly say. Every place and any place, really."
"And you've never seen hot movies?"
He shook his head.
Still with the cigarette dangling from her lips, Gayle Sturgeon rose from the bed and walked the few paces toward the television set.
Billy Joe's eyes never left the lush mature curves of her still slender body as she swayed across the room and flicked on the machine.
Almost instantly she was back in bed beside him as the screen was filled with images of naked couples caressing one another and enjoying all manner of sexual contact.
"Wow!" Billy Joe said, knowing it was the kind of sound he was supposed to make.
"You like that!"
"Wild!" he said. "You know," she said finally. "It's your turn. I mean, I already gave you a come. I want that big O myself."
"You want me to stick my finger in you?"
She turned to face him and he realized he had gone too far. Playing the innocent bumpkin was one thing, but he didn't want to play his game so hard that he lost out completely. "I mean," he amended. "what do you want me to do first?"
They were both looking at the television screen now. It showed a close up of a woman greedily sucking on the hard shaft of an erect penis. The picture changed and they watched a man mount a woman from the rear.
"You know what I want," her voice was hard. "I want you to fuck me and make me climb right to the end of nowhere. I want you to get hard and just fuck me like there's no tomorrow!"
Billy Joe watched the television screen and felt the easy yet demanding pressure of her hand on his masculinity. Stimulated by her lips against his ear, by the visions before him and by the hot warmth of her erect nipples against his body, his member grew again to hard and long proportions.
But still he let her be the leader. Her hand was on him and when she felt his rigid strength and turgid manhood ready to do her service, she punched her cigarette out and rolled on her back. She spread her legs wide for his entrance.
He knelt between her wet and wanting thighs, her hand still held his member.
"Oh, Jesus, come on!" she said. "I've got to have it, Billy Joe. I've got to have your cock in me."
She pulled him down toward her, but he resisted slightly so that it was an agony of time before he felt the hot eager wetness of her spread lips of love on the head of his member. He waited there for another long moment throbbing his penis against her warm wet flesh for an eternity before, in one long and almost brutal thrust, he slammed the total length of his shaft deep into her cauldron of love.
"Oh, God!" she cried out. It was almost as if she were in agony. "Oh, yes, fuck me! Fuck me!"
Ever since he had been almost a little boy, Billy Joe had been good and obeying orders. Now, his early training helped him. He could feel the soft pressure of her clitoris on top of his hard shaft and he rubbed against it as he thrust deeply within her and withdrew almost to the point of pulling entirely out of her craving flesh.
As he thrust silently into her and withdrew, he pressed his chest against her still firm breasts, breathed deeply into her ears and heard and felt her gasps of pleasure as her legs twined around his hips and her own hips thrashed in wild abandon against his groin.
"Oh, yes," she cried again and again. "Oh fuck! I love your cock, Billy. I love ... I...."
The words trailed off into a half-scream, half-gasp. He felt the spasming of her insides, the gasped release of her breath and knew she was having her release. Still, it would not be enough for him. He wanted more of her and even more.
"Oh, God," she gasped. "I'm coming, Billy. I'm coming...."
He didn't slow his rhythm of thrust and withdraw. He continued to slam his flesh into her and pull it out with rapid, almost cruel abandon.
Even when she relaxed under him, when he knew she was totally spent and saturated with the pleasure of her release, he continued to thrust.
"No," she gasped weakly. "No, Billy, I can't again. I...."
He thrust deeply, rubbed the top of his member against her tender clitoris and whispered into her ear.
"Come on, honey. Come on again. One more time, honey."
"Oh, no ... please?" she gasped. "Please no...."
Then there was a ticking response to her hips. He knew her nerves, deadened by exquisite pleasure, were reviving again. Yet still she gasped. "No ... please.., don't ... stop...."
Then her breath came in shorter gasps and it was, "Please, don't stop, Billy. Billy, fuck me, Billy! Don't stop. Oh, Jesus, Billy. I'm coming again! I'm coming again!"
This time, he was almost bored with it and with her. This time, as he brought her to the peaks of abandoned release, he decided to join her. She thrashed against him slamming her hips hard against his own as she cried out.
He thrust deeply inside her, felt the floodgates of his own release break within him and, clawing desperate fingers into the soft flesh of her buttocks, pulled her tightly to him so that he was planted as deeply as he could possibly be inside the hot channel of her abandoned flesh when he released the molten jet of his semen into her eagerly receptive body.
Her screams stopped. The room was silent except for the faint sound of bongo drums on the closed circuit television. They lay like dead people for almost three minutes before he pulled out of her wet flesh and rolled to his side.
She stared at the ceiling, her breasts heaving up and down with the impassioned gasps of her breathing. Finally, after several more moments, she smiled slightly and turned to face him.
"Did you like your first fuck, Billy Joe?" She was almost kindly, like a teacher awarding a prize.
"How did you feel about it?" he countered.
Her eyes took on a faraway look and something of the hardness went out of her face. "You know," she said. "This may sound silly, but I'm an old woman. I'm forty-two and I'm not about to lie here and try to tell you I'm cherry. But you know something, Billy? I never felt like that, never!"
"Good, huh?"
She was still smiling. "You've got talent, boy, real talent."
"Shucks...."
"No, I mean it. Look...." She rolled over and looked intently at him. "Why not stay here? I mean, I've got a big place just outside town. You could act like something like a hired hand. I could teach you a lot. You know hire you out and all...."
This was the time, he knew. It always came and it was always something like this. He'd give them a little pleasure while they were thinking they were teaching him and then they'd start the pitch of the job offer or the shack up. He'd have to go into his routine and it was always the same. His mother was dying and he had to move on to get to her before she went to glory. He had no time to stop to take a job or to learn about life from a wonderful woman willing to teach him. He had to get to his ma any way he could and it would be difficult, especially since he had no money.
"No money?" she echoed. "None at all?"
"Well, I didn't mean that. 'Course I've got seven bucks left, but hell, between here and Charlottesburg...."
"Oh, you poor boy." She rose from the bed and reached for her purse. "I can't let you go on like that. Hitchhiking, never knowing how you'll get a ride or what you can eat. Here." She pulled her hand from the purse and thrust three twenties and a ten into his palm.
"Shucks," he said. "I couldn't ... I mean...."
She leaned toward him. "What are friends for? I mean, you've made me happy--very happy, if only for a few moments and I ... well, I'll always know that I was your first ... The woman who taught you and maybe helped you on your way a little bit."
"Gosh. I...."
She pressed an uplifted finger to his lips to silence him, then rolled from the bed and started to get dressed. No more than fifteen minutes later, they were both dressed and outside the room.
The closed circuit television was still on as they slipped into her car. She had promised to drive him to the western edge of town.
About three miles outside the town limits she pulled to the side and opened the door.
"Thanks," he said simply.
She looked at him a long time. "No," she finally said. "I want to thank you. It was my luck that I picked you up back by Nelson's Cross. I don't usually do that, but now, you've given me something and I hope.., maybe I've given you something."
She started to turn back to the wheel, but turned again to look at him. "Billy Joe?" she said.
"Yeah."
"You've got a lot of time ahead of you. There'll be other women...."
"I...."
"No, seriously. Do me one favor, will you?"
"Sure."
"Remember me," she said. "Remember I was your first...."
"I--"
Before he could close the car's door, she had put the machine in gear and swung it in a tight U-turn to head back to town.
He looked after the receding car until it was a moving dot on an empty and lonely highway.
"First," he said aloud to the empty spring air. "You dumb cunt. The only time I'll think of you is when someone jacks me off."
He thrust his hands into his jeans' pockets and shuffled west along the black ribbon of road. His fingers touched the crisp paper reassurance of the seventy dollars she had given him. He began to whistle.