Chapter 7
Ella teetered between ecstasy and agony. It felt so good but she knew she had never had this much in her before. How much more could she take? She tried to smile at the boy but he was frowning with concentration now. She wondered if he was sensing bottom, perhaps wondering, too, if he would be able to get it into her all the way.
He had slowed down. At first she thought he had stopped, then she sensed that slowly, much slower even than before, the boy was still cautiously feeding his meat into her. She realized that if the boy was an unknown quantity for her, she was equally strange for him. She remembered the first disastrous attempts to fuck with her husband-when she had been a virgin and possessed of a wealth of misinformation surpassed only by old Fred's, for by now she had guessed that when she married him, old Fred had been as much of a virgin as she had. God, what a disaster that first night had been!
But to hell with agonizing memories. Old Fred was dead and so was the past. The present was now and this boy was giving her the loveliest present she had ever received. She wanted to be properly grateful. She tried to smile. Encouraged, the boy began feeding his cock into her a little faster. Now, she guessed, he was shoving it into her about as fast as an hour hand. But when would he hit bottom? She wanted to look and see how much he had left, but to move might force it into her faster and deeper, and Ella didn't know if she was built to take it.
Damn! Eighteen years of fucking and she had never once been curious enough to find out exactly how much she could take. She knew now she could have stuffed a cannula, a candle, a banana-any damned thing up her twat and maneuvered it carefully and measured her capacity. But why? She had thought Fred was the most wonderful man alive and he had always had enough to keep her gasping and happy. Now she was going to pay for her lack of curiosity. Why hadn't she done something smart like measure this boy's banger before he stuck it into her? She could have turned it into some kind of kooky game and the boy would never have realized what she was really up to.
Suddenly Ella felt herself turning inside out. It hurt It took her a second to realize what was happening. The boy's cock was not particularly thick but it was long-Jesus, was it ever long! It had gone into her willing receptacle so deep already that the dry sides of his cock shank had wiped all of love's elixir from the lips of her turned-on pussy. Dry lips now wrapped around the dry shank of his cock effectively braking him to a halt. It must be hurting the boy almost as much as it was hurting her, Ella realized.
He stopped his incessant pushing and she gave a sigh of relief. The boy smiled in sympathy. He relaxed from his rigidly erect stance and lowered his chest over her perfect pectoral cones in accepted missionary position. They kissed momentarily, then he ducked down to begin licking her rock-hard nipples until she just knew they were going to explode.
Suddenly her attention was drawn from the boy's lovely lascivious nipple licking. This time she knew she was going to die. Jesus, how it hurt! Then the boy gave a little shove into her and the hurt stopped.
When he had bent over her his ass had retreated slightly and his dry-shanked cock was really turning her inside out, pulling her cunt right out of her body as it stuck, wrapped round the dry shank of the boy's endless tallywhacker. When he thrust a fraction of an inch back into her the unbearable tearing sensation ended.
Her grateful cunt gave a little spurt of love's elixir and suddenly the boy's cockshank was no longer dry. Smoothly, she felt it once more start to slide into her. It felt so gooooood!
Immediately the pain of a moment ago was forgotten as she came once more to the realization that here she was, forty-two years old and learning more about fucking in the last few minutes than she had ever dreamed of in the last eighteen years. The boy was still pouring it to her on his first stroke, still didn't even have it in all the way. She wondered how much more was going to slide into her before she felt the boy's hard-boned pelvic bone grind against her own bottom.
Still he poured it to her. Her mind had to be exaggerating, Ella knew. It seemed to her as if this hoy had put twice as much cock into her already as old Fred ever had. But it felt good. She was still waiting for the pain that would tell her the boy had hit bottom, that there was no more depth in her well of loneliness.
But instead of pain, now that the boy's cockshank was no longer dry she felt only a fullness, a fullness that was filling her with the joy that passeth all .understanding. Just to feel this wonderful hunk of masculinity inside her was beyond her fondest dreams. What would it be like once he had finished his first stroke, had satisfied himself that she could take it?
Could she? It felt nice now-wow, did it ever feel nice! But Ella wondered how nice it would feel once the boy got into the swing of things. How would it feel to have this prodigious prod ram-lamming into her at full tilt, stretching and poking her in all sorts of uninhibitedly wanton ways? Ella resolved that even if it killed her she was going to take it. She was going to do nothing to take away from this boy's pleasure. After the times his agile tongue had made her come she owed him something.
Owed ... what the hell was she talking about? "Lie on your back, close your eyes and think of England." She remembered that unconsciously hilarious bit of advice out of some Victorian novel in her grandmother's glass-fronted locked book case, the one she had learned to open with a nail file when she was ten, and for a couple of years thereafter, had reveled in tales of damsels betrayed by dashing officers of the Indian Army.
But nowadays people didn't owe anybody anything. If the boy had licked her pussy it was because he liked licking forty-two-year-old women's pussies as long as they had a set of matched forty-twos to adorn their middle-aged poitrines. And if Ella lay flat on her back in the suicide box of her truck it was not out of some sense of obligation or civic duty. If she was letting a beardless boy stick his cock into her it was not because she took pity on his need. It was because she took pity on her own flaming necessity.
She remembered how she had dreamed off again this morning, how Al had phoned her in the midst of another indescribable dream and how empty she had been, how she needed a man's cock. Somebody up there likes me, she decided, for her need had been fulfilled. Jesus how this boy was filling her full!
In the midst of this reverie Ella felt her ass rising to meet the boy's thrust. Before he could pull back she had forced her cunt up and around his hammer another half inch. She thought she could feel the first faint tickle of his crisp pubic hair gouging against her clit but she wasn't sure. The boy came back down with her as her ass settled back onto the mattress. He waited a moment until she was comfortable and then once more resumed his steady thrusting.
"Aaaaaahhhh!" Ella said.
The boy smiled but did not reply. Instead, he began pushing a little faster. Now he was atop her in classic missionary position, his hard-muscled chest brushing against the upthrust tips of her forty-twos, tickling her nipples and sending little tingles of delight through her. Ella smiled and gave a little lunge upward to meet his thrust.
Wham! The movement caught her unprepared. Ella gasped. The boy had finally ceased his slow-as-an-our-hand entry through the portals of her tunnel of love. It took her a moment to catch her breath and realize that he had known how close he was to bottom, that if he had not hurt her by now, his final silly millimeter of plunging was going to do her no lasting damage.
He had bottomed out holding his hard-muscled belly against the rounded softness of hers, grinding his bony pelvis against her mons veneris as his pubic bush mingled with the luxuriant ringlets of her nether triangle.
Ella gasped again, eyes wide not with pain but with surprise and fearful anticipation. The boy held tense, unmoving. After a moment Ella realized it had finally happened: the boy had it all the way in, he hadn't killed her, and that she was full of cock, fuller than she had ever been in her life. Now if she could just help the boy keep his magnificent hard-on long enough to learn what it felt like to keep that much cock sliding in and out, in and out....
She wanted to buck and yodel but even more she wanted that cock inside her all night, all day, forever. She lay tense, unmoving. The boy studied her anxiously. Finally Ella had the good sense to relax. The boy studied her. She managed a wan smile. The boy grinned and a moment later she felt his hard-muscled body relaxing too.
He lay atop her, supporting most of his weight on knees and elbows. Ella lay relaxed, reveling in the lovely feeling of fullness in her belly. It must be like this to feel pregnant, she guessed, for the boys cock was in her so deep, filling her so full that everything inside her was pushed one way or the other to make room for this monstrous invader. It felt so good she didn't care whether he ever got around to fucking. She just wanted to he here and feel a man on top of her, inside her, stretching her pussy, fining it full of the stuff dreams are made of.
It was hard for her to realize this was not a dream. It was so like all those empty, sweat-drenched, sheet-twisting nightmares that had spoiled her rest ever since she had known that old Fred would nevermore hump his hammer into her happy hole.
She squinted up through half-closed eyes to admire the boy, to make sure he was really there and that this was not just another dream. She caught the boy looking at her in exactly the same way. There was sudden and instant understanding between them. They laughed and Ella knew it was going to be all right For the first time since this improbable adventure had begun there was some real bond between them, apart from difference of sex. He was a boy; he had a cock to fill her cunt. But he was also a human being-probably as lonely and needful as she was. For the first time in her hour-long acquaintance she permitted herself to think ahead of the moment.
Would he rush back into his pants with a shamefaced gesture of farewell and be off on his way? Or would he want to hang around for seconds? If he wanted seconds Ella knew she could coax him into thirds-and fourths, and infinitum. What kind of cock and cock story could she cook up for the neighbors about this young bull come to live in her house?
Abruptly Ella realized she was putting the cart before the horse. The boy hadn't said anything about a permanent liaison. He hadn't said anything about anything. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, she reminded herself. Take whatever he gives gratefully, and when it's over thank him and say good-bye with no weeping or regrets. And meanwhile, let's fuck!
The boy still lay atop her, keeping most of his weight off her with knees and elbows. It must be tiring, she knew. She wondered if she dared invite him to relax and let his whole weight rest upon her. It would be a friendly gesture but it might also squash the breath out of her. He was a strong boy-hard. He might weigh more than he seemed to.
The boy came out of his trance and focused his eyes on her again. They kissed, swapping tongues with gay abandon until he came up for air a split second before Ella would have had to give up. She could feel his cock in here. She remembered how whenever old Fred had stopped a moment to rest during his hour-long fuckfests she had been oblivious of any thing inside her. Old Fred had made up in technique and action what he lacked in volume.
But this boy's banger was so big she could feel it even at rest, filling her to the teetering edge of pain and pleasure. She could feel her pussy seething, alternately contracting and relaxing as her cunt struggled mindlessly to draw this lovely hunk of man into her still deeper. The body, she realized, had a wisdom of its own quite apart and far older than anything she had learned in school.
He hunched his shoulders to kiss her jutting jugs, alternating rapidly from one to the other until finally he tired and lay with his ear over one throbbing nipple while he licked the other, playing an erotic game of "telephone." The slight shift of position had forced his cock to move slightly inside her overcrowded pussy and the movement had brought her out of her languor, turning her fires on full blast as her body demanded movement-demanded that this purple-headed invader do its thing and ram slam in and out, in and out deeper, harder, faster!
Ella moved her ass slightly, doing her best to coax a little friction from the cock that lay inside her. The boy gasped and for a moment she was afraid she had caught him at the wrong moment. It would be tragic if she had caught him at climax, if this tiny movement had pushed his young body over the edge of a chasm of orgasm to leave her stranded on the precipice.
She struggled to He still, not even breathe. The boy licked lazily at her nipple. She wanted to scream, to pound his ass with her heels and make this dawdling boy do something instead of just lie there. If he wasn't going to fuck her why couldn't he pull it out and go back to licking her pussy? It was better than nothing-better than this endless dawdling do-nothingness with her cunt full of-full of the biggest, hardest, loveliest bargepole she had ever seen, felt or imagined. What was wrong with her?
Ella knew what was wrong. She was not just full of cock. She was full of hope and anticipation. Would he ever get his mind on his business and start fucking?
She struggled not to explode and say angry things that could shrivel the most adamantine of hard-ons. Any woman had to be careful with her tongue. Tongues were not to be used for talking if a woman wanted to get fucked. Suddenly Ella realized what her tongue was to be used for. Should she do it now?
She was trying to make up her mind when the boy finally gave a happy, lazy sigh and stopped licking her nipple. He straightened, flexed his knees, and began slowly pulling his cock out of her.
Ella gasped.