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J's Tale
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
J's Tale
by Terri, July 1994
She was 35 when he was 15, the year he first began working for her.
Now, at 21, he was about to start his seventh summer season at the
print shop she owned. She had inherited the shop from her father,
and ran it just as he had, with a smile and a firm handshake. She was
a large woman, the propensity for obesity inherited from her father,
but years of moving paper boxes, carrying equipment and hand
delivering print jobs had left her with hard muscles under her soft
flesh. Her breasts were full and inviting and they heaved rhythmically
after exertion. Her face was angelic, her sweet smile transforming
even the grumpiest customers into grinning fools. He worked hard for
her and every summer she taught him something new. This summer
was to be no different.
His third year at college had been spent much like the previous two -
studying and waiting for the summer. He was very handsome but
extremely shy - a characteristic that was often misinterpreted as
conceit - and though he had friends, he preferred the company of
himself and his fantasies. His fantasies of her had begun the summer
he was 17.
That summer had been the hottest one in years, and the print shop
was busier than ever. They had worked together all day on a
company newsletter and the last copy had just rolled off the press.
He bundled them up as she cleaned the machine and had gone to
deliver them down the street. He returned to the now quiet printshop
and headed back to her office, stopping for a moment to enjoy the
coolness blasting from the air conditioner. Eyes closed, head tilted
back, he breathed deeply and let the heat and tension slip from his
body. When he opened his eyes he caught a glimpse of her - her
image reflected in the full length mirror on her bathroom wall. She
had not closed the bathroom door properly and light spilled through
the crack, allowing him to see her in the mirror. He was rooted to the
spot, unable to turn away, and even as he watched her pull down her
pants, he could not hide his eyes. He felt his jeans tighten around his
crotch as his cock grew, jerking spasmodically. Her panties were pale
blue and when he looked at the spot where her legs came together, he
noticed the material was darker, outlining the curve of her mound.
She studied herself in the mirror, pulling her panties into the crevice
separating her pussy, and he watched her as she watched herself.
She spread her legs as far as the pants around her ankles would let
her, and moved back to straddle the toilet. She looked directly in the
mirror and he heard her moan quietly, the sound almost muffled by the
splash her piss made as it fell into the bowl. She closed her eyes then
and he watched, aroused, as she slipped her fingers into her panties
and began rubbing. Her stream seemed endless and as the last
vestiges of fluid drained away she rubbed furiously, her face contorted
in pleasure, and as her hips jerked forward towards the mirror, she
inhaled sharply and began whimpering. He was mesmerized by the
sight of her, breasts heaving, nipples erect through her blouse and he
stroked himself through his jeans. In seconds he felt weak and as she
shuddered in orgasm, his cock joined her, spewing warm wetness into
his underwear. His trance broken, he stayed only long enough to see
her pull her pants up before he turned and slipped, embarrassed, out
the door.
He never spoke to her of the incident, but he played the scene over
and over again in his mind, each time stroking himself to a
breathtaking orgasm. Four years had now passed and as he opened
the door to the printshop the familiar coolness comforted him. She
was there, her back to the door, with an x-acto knife in one hand and
a roll of border tape in the other. He called to her quietly and she
turned, her smile enveloping her face. Yes, she was glad to see him.
They hugged tightly, old friends, and even then he felt the stirrings of
arousal. He worried that she might notice and pulled away from her.
Small talk dominated the first hour and then he set to work. She had
loaded the shop truck with enough deliveries to last past closing time
and when he got back to the shop later, it was locked up tight. A
note on the door indicated he was to drop the truck keys by her house
on his way home, so he left to do as he was instructed.
She saw him coming up the walk and opened the door to greet him.
Her hair was still wet from her recent shower and as she welcomed
him in he caught a whiff of her subtle yet fragrant perfume. Her face
was freshly scrubbed and although he noticed the lines around her
eyes, her complexion was clear and her cheeks held a youthful blush.
Jeans a bit too long for her short legs dragged the floor as she walked
but the sheer button-down shirt she wore was molded nicely to her
body. He noticed that she was braless, her full breasts swaying as
she moved, and when she turned suddenly and caught him staring she
smiled slyly, enjoying his embarrassment. She offered him a drink and
when he accepted, showed him to the living room sofa. They talked
and drank, she filling his glass the moment he emptied it, he drinking
more out of nervousness than from thirst. She laughed as he spoke,
her mouth full and ripe, her eyes twinkling brightly, and as she did her
breasts heaved seductively, beckoning him. She touched his leg, her
fingers pressing gently into his thigh, and when he did not move them
she began to caress his face, her laughter fading to a lustful smile.
She pulled him to her and kissed him on the forehead, the cheeks, the
lips. She tasted of scotch and when she touched his lips with her
tongue, he drew it in slowly and sucked. His penis was a pillar of
stone trapped in the confines of his jeans and when she allowed her
hand to fall casually to it, she felt it jump and twitch. At this, he took
hold of her breasts, feeling the weight of them and stroking the
nipples one after the other, until they were as hard as polished rubies.
She broke their kiss, pulling him down now to her breasts, and he
suckled the flesh hungrily only to feel her shudder against him.
Moving from the sofa, she stood before him as he looked at her in
confusion. "I know what you like," she said, "and I have waited 4
years to give it to you." Having said this, she stood perfectly still,
hands upon her hips, legs spread slightly, and stared into his face. In
seconds, a quiet moan escaped her lips and he watched as the first
drops fell and darkened her crotch. He moved quickly to her, kneeling
down in front of her and grasping her ass as he hugged his face to the
rapidly spreading stain in her jeans. Warmth flowed from her and he
felt the moisture on his cheek before it ran in rivulets down his neck,
soaking his shirt. He closed his eyes and listened as her golden liquid
splashed on the floor, and when he moved to unbutton her jeans, she
didn't stop him. After peeling her wet clothes from her body, he
kissed her belly and ran his hands over her, paying particular attention
to her wet legs and glistening mound. Her eyes were crazed with lust
and she grabbed his jeans by the waist and ripped them open, the
buttons flying off with a loud popping noise. "Now," she insisted,
"it's my turn," and she kneeled in front of him and began rubbing his
cock over her breasts and rounded belly. "Piss on me," she
commanded, and after a moment of intense concentration his bladder
released and he sprayed her with a gush of warm golden piss. She
used his cock as a shower head, soaking her breasts and belly and
then aiming it at her engorged clit. Her fat pussy lips were nestled
securely between her heavy thighs but as the stream hit, they parted
instinctively. He reached for her nipples and rubbed them between his
fingers and when she reached down to spread herself open even
wider, he pushed hard and his final gush of piss took her over the
edge. She writhed and bucked, moaning loudly, as the orgasm
possessed her. He watched in amazement as this mature woman
thrashed about with the energy of a child, and when her spasms had
subsided she laid him back, straddled him, and rode him wildly. He
watched her, face contorted in pleasure, breasts bouncing, belly
fluttering and he felt his climax build. He raised his hips to meet her
and they banged rhythmically until he felt her tighten around him and
heard her moans begin and he knew she was as close as he. He shut
his eyes tightly and in seconds the nerves in his brain began firing as
he was gripped by the most powerful orgasm he had ever
experienced. Wave after wave of pleasure wracked his body as he
spurt again and again into her tightness. Afterwards she leaned over
to kiss him and he knew, from that moment on, he would always
adore older women.
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