Chapter 6
Ella stiffened, not knowing what to do. She had never had anything like this ever happen to her before. What was she supposed to do? Was it going to be fun? She remembered her resolve of a moment ago to try everything at least once before she died. But a finger up her ass?
Before she had learned how to eat properly Ella had been troubled by occasional constipation. She remembered the not uncomfortable sensation of a tiny greased cannula slipping up her anus, the sudden fullness of warm soapy water, the feeling of blessed emptiness when it all came gushing back out. She had always been slightly mystified and ashamed of the erotic overtones of this homely process.
Now she realized that this almost beardless youth knew something she didn't-that in love and war all's fair and in an erotic wrestling match no holds are barred. Her hands went down to caress that burning-eared head between her thighs. His finger drove deeper up her asshole and began a gentle augering twisting, the tip of his finger slightly crooked. He began wriggling his finger as if he were beckoning.
And he was beckoning, Ella suddenly realized, calling the come from her with that finger that twisted and squirmed and did all sorts of things to her that old Fred's prick had never been able to do. It was as if his hard-on had a hinge in the middle that enabled it to go in all sorts of delightfully unexpected directions.
She was so overwhelmed with new sensations that she couldn't find time to decide whether she liked them or not. Must be liking them, Ella guessed. Otherwise, why was she twisting and moaning and crooning her joy as she caressed that hot-eared head between her legs?
The boy seemed to be getting his jollies too. Licking indefatigably, he preserved the vital connection between his mouth and her seething cunt, running his tireless tongue in and out her vagina, up one sensitive inner hp and down the other, stopping only to tickle her thrumming clit with his marvelously supple instrument.
Ella had been moaning and keening uncontrollably. Now the boy began doing it. She thought he was descending into an uncontrollable paroxysm of joy just as she was, then she realized there was method in his frenzy. Lips fastened tightly over her lower lips, the boy was humming.
Ella felt like screaming. She wanted to shriek and yodel and wave her legs in the air and buck and hump and throw this lovely boy every way but off. Never had she experienced such sheer erotic delight as the boy's mouth was giving her as he hummed, vibrating his tongue and lips in a ceaseless Bronx cheer that was making her belly roll and twist as every organ of sexuality in her thrumming body reacted to this joyous buzz that felt so wonderfully wondrously gooooood!
"Aaaaaaahhhh!" Ella wailed.
"Hummmmmmm," the boy replied.
Suddenly Ella was giggling uncontrollably. It felt so good and yet it was all so ridiculous. Here she was a woman approaching middle age and what was she doing? Letting a boy young enough to be her son do things no son ought ever to do to his mother. It was weird. She had been mortified a moment ago to discover how little she knew herself-how totally out of control she was of her own body and her own desires. Now it was merely ridiculous. But if the boy wasn't bothered, why should she be?
After all, he was doing all the work. If this was his trip Ella was willing to go along with it. She wasn't having to do anything. Not that she didn't feel sure that sooner or later, now that she had achieved liberation, there would come a day when she would have to try-anything.
She caught herself wondering how many kinky things she had never even heard of or imagined-what could she do for this wonderful boy to repay him for the colossal comefest he was provoking inside her seething belly? Oooooohhhh Jesus! She felt herself twisting up into knots again, getting set to unwind with a magnificent whirrr like the rubber band in some kid's toy airplane.
There was a sudden thrashing and she thought for a moment that the boy had let his imagination get away from him, that he was coming or struggling not to come in the air. Then she realized he was coming up out of her secret slit to peer over the back of the seat at the dials. She tuned her ear to the rumbling diesel and could hear nothing funny. A moment later the boy bent back down over her. He had captured a tank top shirt from the jumble of clothes in the front seat. Carefully wiping the juices of her uncontrollable joy from his face, he passed the fabric through her crotch. The sudden dry roughness of a shirt passing through her gaping snatch was like a cold shower, stopping her incipient orgasm in mid spasm.
Ella supposed she ought to be annoyed but she wasn't She had come so many times already that it was a relief not to go through that gut-wrenching spasm of joy again-for a moment at least. She smiled tremulously up at the boy who still knelt at the foot of the bunk, his flexed knees between hers. What was he going to do now? Abruptly, Ella realized that the time must have come for her to pay her dues.
The boy knelt between her knees, body erect, cock even more erect as she got her first uninterrupted look at it. He was a lovely, smooth-bodied, hard-muscled boy and he had a lovely cock, long, elegantly slim, with a round purple head peeping angrily from the tip of his heavy veined, tight-stretched foreskin. Beneath it his masculinity rested snug in a ringleted pouch barely visible behind the tremendous thumping urgency of that lovely cock.
Does he want me to kiss it, suck it, she wondered. The boy poised between her knees, a beatific smile on his face. There was a slight absent-minded look to him, and then she realized he had come up not just for air but also to reassure himself that the cunt he had been so busily licking actually did belong to a body as superbly proportioned and unblemished as Ella's, with a pair of totally non-sagging tits that could provoke visions of heaven in the heart of a monk.
Ella lay supine in the narrow bunk, wondering what next. Her question was answered when the boy began moving slowly up between her legs. Instead of bending over her and half flattening her the way old Fred used to every time he stuck it in, this boy's body remained as erect as his cock. It took her a while to realize that he didn't want to waste the view of her lovely body even long enough to Suddenly she felt the rock-hard, throbbing hotness of his cocktip hovering near the gaping readiness of her pussy only just wiped dry of the juices of love fulfilled. Then she felt the actual hard maleness thumping and throbbing in time to the boy's heartbeat.
Still kneeling with body erect between her thighs, he remained as still as a Buddha, resting the tip of his cock in her secret slit. Suddenly Ella's whole body, every nerve and organ of sensitivity concentrated on that tenuous connection between their thrumming bodies, his cocktip barely touching the sensitive inner surface of her labia. When was he going to put it in?
She waited and nothing happened. The boy was throbbing and thumping but she suspected he was in no real danger of coming. Not unless he could come a lot less huffing-puffingly than old Fred ever had. She lay flat on her back, knees flexed, waiting for this lovely statuesque boy to move, to put it-to do something!
And still the boy did nothing, merely posed there, body erect, where he could survey the full length of her unveiled body while resting the tip of his tool where it barely touched her eager pussy. Ella wanted to scream. She wanted to grab him, pull him down onto her and kiss him, wrap her legs around his hard-muscled ass and pull him in deep, deeper, faster, harder!
And still the boy did not move. What was she supposed to do? It would never do to show her impatience, Ella knew. She had to let the boy believe he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Nothing could be allowed to destroy his confidence. She couldn't betray her impatience. She couldn't do anything except wait here and smile and pray that sooner or later his royal highness would deign to put the royal cock into her ready receptacle. Ella suppressed a sigh.
There was a tiny movement, almost a sob as her body adjusted its breathing and the movement was transmitted to her belly, to her bereft cunt.
The movement made her lips move slightly as they contracted around the boy's cocktip. It was enough to get him off dead center. Still erect as his cock, the boy began oozing forward, slowly driving his dong into her waiting pussy.
She felt her lips part to receive the prodigious prod the boy was putting into her. It felt so good she wanted to kick, squeal, wave her long perfect legs wildly in the air before wrapping her ankles in a loving scissors around his ass to pull him in faster, deeper.
She managed to restrain herself, terrified at the thought that even now he could be put off his stride. What would she do if he were to change his mind, pull it out, put his pants on and leave her high and dry? She shuddered and the movement seemed to inspire the boy. He began pushing it in faster.
She felt the great throbbing head of his cock pass slowly and steadily through her labia, begin its long slow passage in its maiden voyage up her vagina. And it felt so gooood! Slowly that great distended cockhead coursed up her pussy, stretching her to the edge of pain, but stretching her so delightfully that she knew suddenly this boy's cock was bigger, harder than old Fred's. It was only the second cock she had ever experienced in her life. But it was still the biggest and hardest she had ever known.
Slowly the boy kept pushing it in and abruptly she knew it was already in deeper than old Fred had ever managed to stuff his sausage into her. How much more did the boy have to give her? Wow! She felt it going into her deeper than she had ever realized a cock could go, touching places that had never been touched before. Still the boy knelt erect, not crouching over her where he would spoil the view.
It worked two ways, Ella realized. There would be time enough later to rub their bodies against one another, to mash her perfect forty-twos flat against the bony muscularity of his chest. I But for now it was much nicer to concentrate on one single sensation, the feel of that wonderful rod ramming into her slowly, surely, deeper than she had ever imagined possible. And still the boy was pushing more cock into her.
Ella's eyes widened, admiring the slim perfection of his body. How could such a slender boy have so much cock? It hadn't seemed all that much bigger than old Fred's when she had caught a fleeting glimpse of it. Was it still growing, getting harder and longer as he fed it into her? Or was it just that Ella had been empty for so long that anything male inside her emptiness would feel big?
The boy's eyes glistened as he memorized the smooth-skinned roundnesses of her body. For a woman of forty-two Ella guessed she was not doing too badly. The boy didn't seem disappointed. Ella exulted in the knowledge that she had no sags, no wrinkles or bulges that had to be concealed. Plenty of middle-aged women could manage to attract men's glances with their clothes on. How many could compete the way she was at the moment-not a stitch on, nothing to hide behind except a pair of pink cotton anklets she had forgotten.
If the boy realized he was putting his cock into a woman old enough to be his mother he gave no sign of repugnance or disappointment. He still poised erect, looking down on her superb forty-twos, admiring the smooth contours of midriff and waist, the burgeoning of ass and thigh.
To the contrary, the boy seemed to be savoring this moment, drawing it out as long as was humanly possible. Ella realized to her surprise that it must already be more than a minute since the boy had begun stuffing his prodigious prod into her and-she raised her head slightly to sneak a glance and was suddenly terrified. My god, she thought He's in deeper by far than good old Fred ever got into me and he doesn't even have it halfway in yet!
She wondered when it was going to start hurting. Would he stop when she began screaming? Or would he nail her to the mattress of this narrow bunk, drive his spike clear through her as he got into the spirit of the game. Was a friendly fuck going to end up a case of rape?
Good god, she thought is the boy a freak? Are other men this big? If only she knew. Had old Fred been the freak? Maybe her dead husband had been abnormally small. But he bad managed to keep her happy as well as another wife on the other end of the line. She remembered one of Fred's favorite sayings: "It ain't how much you got it's knowin' how to use it" She realized for the first time that Fred must have been speaking from personal experience.
How big had her husband been? She spread the fingers of her hand mentally, trying with her mind's eye to remember if Fred's hammer in fighting trim had been longer or shorter than the six-inch span of her outspread fingers. A little shorter, she guessed. But if Fred's hard-on had measured something under six inches this slim unbelievable boy must have somewhere between seven and eight-maybe more.
He was into her so deep now that she was feeling discomfort, wondering how much more her cunt could stretch before she had to wince and ask him to please stop it.
What could she do? If the boy couldn't get it all the way in he wasn't going to be happy. Self-preservation from insanity required that she keep this boy happy if he was going to make her happy. She had to take it.
The boy smiled slightly. Body still erect he kept right on pushing it into her.