Chapter 12
She hadn't been planning it this way but, against her will and against all common sense Ella discovered that, bent over the tub in this inelegant posture with the boy pouring his meat to her from behind she was getting far more of a turn-on than she had ever imagined possible.
It was, she realized vaguely, a cumulative thing, a result of all the driving she had done with the boy tormenting her and playing with her ass while her attention was riveted to the road, and she didn't dare relax enough to let herself come. He had been tormenting her ever since she scooted down into the driver's seat, licking, caressing, squeezing, rubbing, sucking and tickling until her body was reacting erotically to the most commonplace stimuli. And now what, she wondered, could be more erotic than a man's cock in full fighting trim, erect as a drill sergeant and marching in and out, in and out as it churned her pussy into a passionate melange of prurience?
She felt her long-abused body gathering forces as it prepared to take revenge for the orgasm long delayed, threatening an even greater cataclysm. She had planned on something smooth and elegantly sensual-something with a long slow buildup after a hot bath and atop a clean white-sheeted bed with the coverlet turned down until the contour sheet stretching smoothly presented an erotic arena like some miniature wrestling ring. Instead here she was draped inelegantly over the bathtub and the boy was pouring his joyous jock into her from behind. Damn! The next thing she knew he'd be ramming it up the wrong hole!
She knew she shouldn't be letting the boy do this. Damn him! He must think she would stand still for anything. The sad truth, she realized, was that the boy was right The first time she let the boy toy with the zipper of her ski jacket-the first time she had permitted him even to look at her that way Ella had forfeited any right to be treated like a lady-whatever that meant
On due reflection she thought she knew what being treated like a lady meant. It meant getting left out of all the good things in life-of existing on some high artificial plane where women's bodies did not exist from the waist downward. She guessed, remembering eighteen years of being treated like a lady, that she had not surrendered anything of real value. Given her choice, Elk knew perfectly well that if it came to choosing between another night home alone in that cold bed, awakening sweat-drenched and tangled in the sheets versus this inelegant position, there was no second choice. If she had to bend over the bathtub in this ridiculous posture to get a cock into her-it was still countless thousands of times better than standing around looking like a lady and feeling nothing but an aching emptiness between her long, well-turned legs.
And undignified or not-ready or not, here she came! Her body wrought ex post facto revenge against all the kooky games the boy had played while she was driving. Now as his cock coursed joyously in and out of her tight-clasped ass she felt her belly melt her insides turn into a loose-flowing gruel of joy fulfilled. It wasn't like the great gut-wrenching cataclysms she had experienced before-internal convulsions that had threatened to blow her mind and tear her body into tiny gobbets of erotic fulfillment. This time it was just a sudden, full and complete plop as all the tense and twisted muscles of her cock-filled belly surrendered and gave up the struggle.
She felt love's elixir gush from every cranny and orifice of her cunt until suddenly she was so slick, so loose that the boy was having trouble keeping it in. Then abruptly she realized what had happened. It wasn't she who had come. It was the boy.
Boys too, she guessed, could tire after hours of uninterrupted fun and games. The boy had come the same way she had thought she was coming, quietly, unspectacularly, with a sudden damp gush of semen that had destroyed his hard-on and relieved him of the necessity to pound and pump on her bent-over bottom. He made a sudden gasping, gurgling noise that reminded Ella of the half-plugged bathroom drain in her house.
Then he collapsed backward, sitting on the floor with a comic expression of dismay. She realized the boy was embarrassed. He felt guilty because he had come too soon and left her high and dry. Ella decided no useful purpose would be served by letting him know she was relieved it was over. Let him worry. Number two tries harder. She tested the water in the half-filled tub, was mildly amazed to discover it was just right. She stepped in and settled down for a long hot soak.
But as others have been known to remark, the best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley. The boy still sat on the floor, cushioning his lean ass on a chenille bath mat, eyes unfocussed, staring with confused chagrin at the organ which had betrayed him.
Still dazed, he finally got to his feet and managed a perfunctory washup at the basin.
Reviving, he turned his eyes once more to study the forty-two-year old, forty-two-inch-titted instrument of his downfall. Ella lay supine in the tub which was oversized but not quite long enough for her to lay at full length without flexing her knees. Knees, a few square inches of smooth, wrinkle-free belly, and the tips of her jutting jugs were visible above water. The boy stepped carefully into the tub and managed to settle down in the opposite end of the tub without creating a tidal wave across the bathroom floor.
There was a confused moment of maneuver and then he lay with his legs straight along each side of the tub and Ella lay with her feet in his face, her thighs between his, and her ass pushing companionably against the southern exposure of the boy's bony crotch.
It was a not unpleasant position to be in, Ella decided, so long as the boy could manage to contain himself and let her catch her erotic breath. She was happy, enjoying every minute of this boy's presence, but there was no getting out of the sad truth that she was forty-two, old enough to be his mother, and that she was tired. She hoped he was too-for a few minutes at least.
Damn him! Couldn't he ever leave well enough alone? The water was not exactly scalding but it was comfortably hot. When the boy's two fingers entered her cunt it wasn't bad, but when he spread his fingers to let the hot water flow into her, it-didn't exactly hurt, she decided. But the sensation was so unusual that she didn't know whether to kick him or kiss him. She wondered what else this unpredictable boy would dream up to try on her practically virgin body.
It took her a while to understand that he was not deliberately trying to turn her on-as if just the sight of the lovely slim hardness of his naked body could not turn on the statue of a nun! But actually, the boy was displaying a wisdom far beyond his years.
He must have known that she had not gone on the road prepared for an indoor track meet. With his two fingers he was making up for the lack of a douche, letting the warm bath water flow into her wide-stretched cunt. While she tried to relax and ignore the fingers in her just-come pussy, the boy folded his hand in a complicated manner and, still with a finger holding her come-drenched cunt open, began working the palm of his hand rapidly in and out of her crotch, pumping her full of almost too hot water, then drawing it out of her.
It felt several thousand times nicer than the cannula of a douche had ever felt doing this necessary job. She could feel hot water penetrating the inner depths of cunt country, washing her clean of the lees of love. If only it didn't feel so gooood!
She wondered if the boy was hot to trot already. There was an easy way to find out. She roused herself from her languor and stretched an arm to capture the cock that was practically in her own crotch. It was big but not in full erection. As she fondled the boy's heavy-veined hammer, delicately peeling back the foreskin to soap it and run a teasing finger around the flange on the golfball-sized head, she could feel it start to grow. She ought to quit while she was ahead. Give the boy a rest and give herself a rest. But it felt so nice to he relaxed in hot water with a boy's lean, hard ass crammed against hers, with his hands in her cunt and hers on his cock. She wondered if this was what governments meant when they talked about mutual aid programs.
"Hungry?" the boy asked abruptly.
Ella was. She nodded and they lazed about in the tub for a few more minutes, playing with each other's asses and fondling each other's bodies. Then finally Ella realized everything had to end someday. She stood and tripped the tub drain. The boy got himself to his feet and for the first time she realized they were almost exactly the same height She was tall for a woman-five-seven. She wondered if this nearly beardless boy was still growing.
His cock was still growing. Like some erotic flagpole, it stuck from his lean body at a forty-five degree angle, jerking up and down in time with his heartbeat as the boy toweled her down. Now why, she wondered, couldn't old Fred ever have thought to do something like that? She stood in a happy glow of hot water and eroticism, poised in the middle of the bathroom while the boy danced attendance, gyrating round her superb, unveiled body with a terry cloth towel, wiping her face, her neck, her shoulders, devoting tender loving care to blotting the moisture from her firm forty-twos.
The boy wiped midriff and waist poked a careful corner of the towel into her surprisingly deep navel. He wiped her thighs, the gentle curve of her ass. He got his towel into her crotch and did marvelously sensual things with the lips of her vulva, managing to pass the rough cloth over the surface of her raddled clit until Ella clenched her fists and struggled not to collapse and pull this lovely boy down on top of her.
He wiped and patted her thighs, her knees, her calves and ankles. One at a time as if she were some sort of skittish horse, he lifted her feet and wiped carefully between each toe. Finally there was no longer an excuse for the lovely boy to pass terry cloth over the superb curves of her un-lined body. He knelt to kiss the smooth roundness of her belly, then stood up and handed a fresh towel to Ella.
Now it was her turn. She started at the top and worked her way down the boy's hard-muscled chest, down his waist to the fuzzy beginnings of his pubic patch. Kneeling, she spread wide his legs to finish the job. She ran the towel through his crotch and wiped his well-furred scrotum dry, stopping a moment to caress the slimly elegant shank of his cock which dangled at half mast only inches from his face.
Suddenly the air was charged between them with the knowledge of what she was supposed to do next. Ella put the towel aside and tried to measure one need against another. She was hungry all right. She wanted to eat a good piece of rare meat. But not while it was still living and thumping. She got to her feet and kissed the boy's lips, then said, "Let's get something to eat first."
To her surprise and faint disappointment the boy did not demur. They dressed silently and Ella sat before the mirror to do what she could with her hair. Finally she gave up and put on a turban. She turned and the boy was waiting. They walked silently across the yard filled with idling diesels and entered the restaurant.
It was full, and if anybody felt like conjecturing on the possible relationship between a middle-aged woman and a boy, anyone kept his opinions to himself. They found a booth and Ella hoped the boy would have the good sense to keep his distance in public.
He did. They scanned the menu and the boy whispered, "I've got some money but I don't know if I've got enough."
Ella smiled and gave an almost invisible gesture toward the trucker's wallet chained to the waist of her ski pants. The boy visibly relaxed.
It was standard truck stop fare-filling but not gourmet cookery. They shared a Chateaubriand and french fries. When the boy still seemed to have a slight hollow in his midsection Ella ordered apple pie a la mode. Finally they were sipping coffee. Suddenly a giant of a man stood at the edge of their booth. "You order some tires changed on that fourteen wheeler out there?" he asked.
Ella looked up surprised. She had been expecting a sexual overture. This was the kind of bruiser who would try to toss her boy out into the snow and slip into the vacancy between her legs. "Tires?" she echoed.
"Somebody's taking them off," the giant said. He passed by them and found an empty stool at the counter.
This kind of thing happened at truck stops, Ella knew. There were so many trucks in and out, so many strangers that it was not difficult for an enterprising thief with a pickup and a power wrench to make off with several thousand dollars worth of tires in broad daylight. She suddenly realized she had left the pistol at home-in the drawer of the nightstand by her bed. A lot of good it would do her there!
The boy apparently understood instantly what was up. He stuck his steak knife in his pocket. Hastily Ella tossed a bill on the table. She took the other steak knife and they went out into the snow-filled yard, walking in a wide circle so as not to let the thieves know.
As she and the boy began approaching the rig obliquely from the wrong side, she could see a pickup and hear the clatter of an air wrench removing lug bolts. Four wheels were already missing from the left side of her tractor.
Suddenly the man who was stealing tires looked up and saw her. Without the slightest hesitation he tossed his air wrench into the back of the pickup along with a jumble of hose. He sprinted for the door of the pickup and Ella began running, knowing she could never make it before he started the engine, peeled rubber, and disappeared with a thousand dollars worth of her property. She wondered if her insurance would cover it.