Wanamaker

OK here we go. My name is Thad Wanamaker. I wanted to get that last name out of the way at the beginning, I took enough kidding about it when I was young, and I knew that considering the subject matter of this story (sex, obviously) there would be an immediate double entendre, or maybe single entendre, I'm not even sure what an entendre is to tell you the truth, but obviously there's a hidden meaning in my name and people love pointing it out.

Or they used to. I'm 62 years old now, so it just flies over the heads of most people, because who thinks an old guy wants to "make" anybody anymore? Well, this old guy does, but that's not what this story is about, so never mind.

So. Last name Wanamaker. Yes. And when I'd go on a date my college friends would all say the next morning, "Hey Wanamaker, didyamaker?" Hilarious. Never got tired of it.

And the answer was usually "Yes I did," by the way, and there was a reason for that, and it wasn't my movie-star good looks (only fair, not Quasimodo but not Burt Reynolds, either) and it wasn't my musclebound physique (not too shabby, actually, I played a lot of baseball), and it wasn't my class-clown laugh-a-minute personality (I was incredibly shy most of my youth).

Girls liked me because there was a rumor going around campus that I had a larger-than-average size... well, dick. I've never liked that word too much, but "penis" is too clinical and "cock" is too... too porno, I guess, too dirty, and "member" sounds like your dick belongs to a club, and "schlong" is funny but I can't use it with a straight face, and then there's "johnson" and "pecker" and "putz" and "tool" and on and on and on, if the male species put as much work into science as they do for finding different words for "dick" we'd have a cure for cancer by now.

Anyway, so I had a big dick. (I still do, it just doesn't work as well as it used to. Nothing does.)

As I've said I was extremely shy, so even though I had this obvious reason to have confidence in myself, at least that part of myself, I never did, not until I turned 18. That's when I lost my virginity and, as my mother later put it, "started to come out of my shell."

I don't mean my mother knew about me losing my virginity, don't get me wrong. As far as I know she STILL thinks I'm a virgin, even though I have four kids, because we don't ever talk about sexual matters. No, I just mean she could see there was a difference in me. She attributed it to my turning 18 and graduating high school and going off to college. That probably had something to do with it, but mostly it was Mrs. Naylor. That's what this little story is about.

When I was a kid my best friend was Evan Naylor. Great guy. I haven't talked to him in decades but I'm sure he's still a great guy. And he was popular, so being around him made me at least a little more social than I normally was. We became friends playing little league, we were the two best players on the team and most of the games we won were because of us. It stayed that way all through high school.

Evan's mother's name was Judith, or Judy, but of course I called her Mrs. Naylor, because that's what you called your friends' moms, Mrs. this or Mrs. that, but never by their first name, even if they wanted you to. And Mrs. Naylor really wasn't the "just call me Judy" type anyway, she was pretty prim and proper. I don't mean Victorian, don't get me wrong, but she wasn't, you know, very hip. I didn't think she was, anyway.

At the time of this story Mrs. Naylor was 41 years old, born right before the War so she was just a little too old to have been a hippie, and she wouldn't have been one anyway. Evan's father was killed in Vietnam and she remarried and had two kids with Mr. Naylor and lived happily ever after. The End.

Except not quite The End. I guess I'm sort of what you might call her Epilogue.

Mrs. Naylor and I just happened to share the same birthday, June 19, so more than once growing up his family would invite me over for her birthday and throw in a little birthday party for me, too, since my family wasn't much for that sort of thing. The summer I turned 18, the Naylors had just bought a new house, and it had a big backyard pool, so it was decided that there would be a big pool party for Mrs. Naylor's birthday, and mine too.

Evan was the only one of my friends to have a pool, and I was way, way too shy to use the pool at the YMCA, so swimming wasn't my thing. In fact, I really couldn't even swim at all, if you want to know the truth. When they said they were going to have a pool party it scared the hell out of me. I didn't even have any swim trunks.

Evan said he'd loan me his. So I decided OK, I'll just hang out in the shallow end and nobody will know.

Happy birthday, the day of the party came, and my mother drove me to the Naylor's house. She came in to say hello and drop off my birthday present, but she had to get to work so she was quickly gone. This was good, the Naylors were sort of my second family so I didn't like my first family to be involved; I'd once called Mrs. Naylor "my Mom-away-from-Mom." Ironic.

The party was in full swing by this time, with around twenty or so in attendance, most out back and circulating through the house for more paper plates of hot dogs, potato salad, and watermelon. Not quite half the partygoers were actually wearing swimsuits, and most of those were the younger ones.

When I stepped out onto the back porch I saw Evan instantly, in the pool, flirting with Suzanne Edmonds, a girl he'd had his eye on for a long time. (His HANDS, however, he'd had on lots of other girls) I waved to him but he didn't see me. I started to make my way down the steps to go say hi to him, when I spotted Mrs. Naylor.

She was standing near the diving board but she was unlikely to use it, because she was one of those not dressed in a swimsuit. Instead she was wearing her preferred summertime suit, a pink terrycloth "romper," I believe they called it, strapless outfit with an elastic band around the chest to keep it up and an elastic belt at the waist and rounded shorts, all one piece. I had seen her wearing a green one before, and a yellow one, and a white one, but the pink one was her favorite.

And she looked absolutely stunningly gorgeous in that thing. It hugged every curve, and Mrs. Naylor had a lot of curves to hug. The romper was a popular thing to wear in the early 80s, but to me it looked best on busty women with generous hips and long legs, and that described Mrs. Naylor to a T. I had often fantasized about taking hold of that elastic top and pulling it down over her naked breasts, it would be so easy, one quick yank and Heaven would be exposed to the world.

The truth was, though, Mrs. Naylor was Heaven enough fully clothed. She was a beautiful woman, with shoulder-length light brown hair and limpid -- is that a word? Limpid? -- blue eyes that made you feel good even if she was looking at you with annoyance, with full crimson red ruby rose-tinted lips that, in retrospect, made me think of this line from an old movie: "You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how." Of course at the time I didn't really know how, in fact it was Mrs. Naylor who taught me, but that's jumping ahead in my story, and I hate when writers do that.

Anyway, she was very beautiful. She was about average height, and I guess by the standards of the day she might have been slightly overweight, I don't know, I've always believed one person's body type is their own particular body type and you can't judge it against somebody else's... but anyway... her extra-ness came out in gobsmacking curves, not just her breasts and her hips, but even the curve of her shoulders and her elbows and her knees was gorgeous.

All of Evan's friends had crushes on his mother, and of course it bothered him but there was nothing he could really do about it except limit their exposure to her, so he rarely invited anybody over... except me, oddly enough. Maybe it was because I was never blatant in my lust for his mother, I always treated her with great respect and deference, and she always seemed to like me and treated me like part of the family. I never made off-color comments about her, to Evan or anybody. I liked her. I liked being around her.

She even SMELLED beautiful, like a tropical rain forest, or like I imagine a tropical rain forest should smell like. She had every shampoo, moisturizer and conditioner known to modern science, and just following behind her to the dinner table made me high. To me she was, and remains, the ultimate human female body.

So, okay. She was good-looking. We got it.

As I said she was standing by the diving board in her bubblegum-pink romper, holding a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, wearing these gigantic brown sunglasses that obscured half her face, and talking to several other women similarly dressed, and she spotted me almost the second I spotted her, and she grinned and whipped off her sunglasses.

"Everyone, the birthday boy is here!" she called out, and everybody turned to look at me. "I'm the birthday girl, he's the birthday boy. Let's all sing happy birthday to the birthday boy!"

And so, while I stood there melting in humiliation above the crowd on the porch, the entire party stopped and they sang happy birthday to me. What do you do when you're painfully shy and everybody is looking at you and singing to you? You burn, man, you burn.

At last they finished and clapped and went back to their party, I went down the porch steps into the back yard and was greeted with handshakes and claps on the back and a hug or two, and then Mrs. Naylor was in front of me and giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and I actually felt her breasts pressing against me and automatically without thought I looked down into the deep, deep line of cleavage where they were pressed tightly together and thought, Heaven. Heaven.

"This is Thad, my son's best friend," she said to the women around her, holding on to my hand while she held her drink and her cigarette with the other. They all said hello and smiled pretty middleaged smiles at me. "He came into the world eighteen years ago today, just like I came into the world... uh, twenty-nine years ago today." This got a good laugh.

"How does it feel to be eighteen, Thad?" one of the ladies asked.

"Pretty good, I guess," I managed, and this got another laugh. They were easy to please.

Mrs. Naylor asked about my mother, who had already left, then told me to get some food and get in the pool and have fun, and with another quick birthday hug she retreated back into her crowd by the diving board.

Evan was already out of the pool and coming over to me, grinning and dripping. He wished me happy birthday and with a nudge he pointed to Suzanne Edmonds, who waved at us. "Check it out, dude," he said.

"Yeah," I said, still inebriated from his mother's kiss and hugs.

He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "The water's freezing cold, man, I turned off the heat pump and you can totally see her nips if you get up close."

"Oh yeah?"

"You gotta check it out. C'mon, I got trunks for you." He led me into the house, ignoring his father who told him to dry himself off before he went inside goddammit, and to his bedroom. He picked up a green pair of swimming shorts and tossed them to me. "See you out there," he said, and was gone.

So I went into the bathroom to change. His "trunks" seemed kind of small to me, even though he and I were roughly the same body type, but I figured that was pretty standard, I mean if you look at old episodes of "Magnum, P. I." (which had just started airing about six months earlier), shorts and swimming trunks were really... well, short. That was the era we were in. Nowadays everybody looks like they're in the NBA, but not then.

I had to do some serious tucking to keep everything where it was supposed to be inside the swimtrunks, I even thought of keeping my regular underpants on, but I figured if that was discovered I'd never hear the end of it, so I did my best and put my clothes back in Evan's room and went to get a couple of hot dogs before I got in the pool.

"We're out of hot dogs in here, go see what Hank has at the barbecue," somebody told me, so I took my Coke and my plate outside. Hank -- Mr. Naylor -- was indeed cooking some hot dogs and burgers, but as usual he ignored me while he rapped with his rowdy big-bellied buddies, guffawing and waving the spatula around like a crazy man. I couldn't get his attention.

I was about to give up when Mrs. Naylor appeared before me, smiling behind her gigantic sunglasses. "Need some help?" she asked. I shrugged. Loudly she said to her husband, "Henry! Henry, get back on the job and give our birthday boy some hot dogs, would you please?"

He turned and saw me, frowned like he did to all his children and their friends, and scooped up a couple of hot dogs, dropping them on my plate. "Yeh, happy birthday," he said to me, then picked up his beer and turned back to his buddies.

Mrs. Naylor put her hand on my shoulder. "Okay now, Thad?"

"Yep, great, thanks Mrs. Naylor," I said, smiling weakly at her and trying not to gaze at her with open lust.

She turned to go and then her eyes fixed on something below eye level, and she stopped. Stopped cold, and stared, apparently, at my swimming shorts. Her mouth literally dropped open.

"Oh--" she said. "Oh. Oh, no."

"What? Yeah, I had to borrow Evan's. Sorry." I didn't know exactly what I was apologizing for.

Hesitantly she said something else, but with the talking and the shouting and the splashing of the party around us I couldn't hear her. I took a step over to her and leaned in. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I -- your, your--" she said, flummoxed, staring down at me. "You -- your..."

I looked down to see what was causing her distress, and I realized my dick had slipped out of its carefully-tucked-in place and a sizeable portion of it was visible hanging out of the swimtrunks, totally exposed. Totally.

Mrs. Naylor stared, I stared. Completely frozen, like a Polaroid snapshot, I couldn't believe it, I didn't know what to do, I went numb. I don't know how long we stood there, just gaping down at me. The world went on around us, unnoticed.

Finally something happened: the hot dogs Mr. Naylor had deposited on my plate rolled off and the whole plate fell onto the ground, potato salad and all.

From instinct I knelt down to pick up my mess, and Mrs. Naylor knelt down too, spilling her drink, and whispered, "Cover up, cover UP!" She didn't sound angry, just panicked.

"I'm sorry, I'm SORRY," I gasped, trying to pick up the plate and tuck my dick back in the swimtrunks at the same time.

"Oh my GOD," she whispered, picking up the potato salad with her hand and putting it in her glass. She picked up one of the hot dogs and held it out to me. "Go inside and, and, and..."

"I'm really sorry," I said, holding the swimtrunks in place and balancing the plate while I ran back into the house, almost tripping on the steps. I felt like everyone in the back yard and inside the house was staring at me, could see what had happened, and was laughing at me.

Without thinking I locked myself inside the bathroom, forgetting that my clothes were in Evan's room. I wasn't about to go back out in public like this, so I just stayed there, so embarrassed I felt like I was about to pass out, or throw up, or both at the same time.

There was a knock on the door. I jumped.

"Hey -- Thad?" It was Evan. "What's up, dude? You okay?"

"I, uh..." was all I could think of to say.

"My mom said to come check on you. Did something happen? She looked freaked out."

"Oh... oh, uh, no, I, I just... hey man can you get me my clothes? They're on your bed."

"What's the matter?" Evan asked through the door. "You're not getting in the pool?"

"No, I, I, I gotta go, man. There's... a birthday party for me."

"Yeah, dude, HERE. Right now."

"No I just remembered a thing I gotta go to," I said, trying to get ahold of something in my brain to tell him. "My dad's having a potluck thing at work and he needs me to come by." While I was talking, my dick slipped out of the swimtrunks again. "Oh, JESUS."

"What? What's the matter, dude?"

I kept tucking, it kept slipping. "Nothing, nothing, man, but I really gotta go. I'm really sorry. Can you get my clothes, please?"

Muttering confused curses, he got my clothes and handed them in to me. "You're seriously LEAVING? I mean, you know there's people here for your birthday, right? There's presents and shit in the living room for you. I mean..."

"I know, I know, but I gotta get out of here. My dad'll kill me."

So I got dressed and made as quick an exit as I could. Evan was pissed off and I didn't blame him, but my humiliation was so overwhelming that escape was my only option. I didn't see Mrs. Naylor on my way out.

I tried to run all the way home but I was suddenly so aware of my dick in my pants that I could hardly move. I limped home; it took over an hour. When I got the front door closed and locked behind me (and after I'd navigated the minefield of my parents wanting to know why I was home so early), I made the decision to never leave the house again. In fact, to never leave my room again. In fact, to never leave my CLOSET again.

But, as you know, time passes and people adjust to awful things, human beings are a stability-seeking species, so the next day when Evan drove over to check on me I got in the car with him and we drove around, and after a lot of coaxing and a free lunch at McDonald's, I finally I told him what had happened.

"Duuuuuude!" he said, nearly driving through a red light, "My mother saw your DICK??"

"Well, yeah. Part of it."

"Holy SHIT. No wonder she was a basket case all day."

"I'm sorry, man, really, I never..."

"No, dude, I'M sorry. I'm the one who gave you the fucking swimtrunks. It never occurred to me, I mean I know you got a big one down there but I didn't know it was THAT big that it'd just... fuckin'... FALL OUT. Holy shit. Jesus."

"But I'm really really sorry about your mom, man," I insisted. "Please tell her how sorry I am."

We came to a stop and he turned to face me. "No, man, no YOU need to tell her. You need to go talk to her, face to face."

"WHAAAT? Are you kidding? I could never--"

"But you HAVE TO, don't you see? If you guys don't get past this you'll never be able to come over to my house again. No more hanging out watching TV, no more dinners, no more ANYTHING. You're part of my family now, Thad. I'm being fuckin' serious. Everybody was so worried about you at the party, and they've been bugging me to go find out what happened and make sure you're okay. So you gotta go over there and talk to her, dude. You gotta work it out with her. I MEAN it."

"Well, I..."

"In fact, I'm taking you over there right now."

"WHAAAT?" I shouted. "No fucking WAY am I going over there NOW!"

"No, this is the perfect time," he said, turning the car around. "My dad's at work, my sisters are spending the day at my grandparents' house, my mom's home alone all day, just cleaning up from the party. She kicked us all out. I'm taking you over there."

"Evan, PLEASE, man, please," I begged. "I can't handle it."

"You can handle it. You GOTTA handle it. For the sake of our friendship. Handle it."

So he drove me over there. For the second time in two days I was walking up the steps to his house, the first time with my mother, the second time with my best friend. He unlocked and opened the door for me, sweeping his arm like a maître D' for me to enter, and patted me on the back. "Go to it, tiger," he said, and bounded down the steps to his car and was gone.

So as you can see, all of this was partly his fault.

I was sweating. It was a hot day anyway, and this didn't help. Again I felt the conflicting needs to faint and throw up. My knees wanted to give out. My mouth was a desert. I couldn't breathe. (I know this is all a bit over the top, but it's difficult to stress just how shy and terrified I really was) And, of course, because of yesterday, I was so conscious of my dick in my pants that I felt naked. I had never been so AWARE of the damn thing in my life, not even in gym class.

Finally I took a step inside, then another. I didn't close the door, just in case I needed to run. The hallway leading to their living room looked about a mile long. I could hear movement down there, and unless their German Shepherd had learned to sing Ricky Nelson songs, that's where she was.

Then she was there, standing at the end of the hallway, still dressed in the pink romper from yesterday, holding an empty garbage bag.

"Evan? I told you, if you stay home you're helping me cl--"

She stopped. I stopped. We stopped. We stood like statues staring at each other.

"Oh," she said, and even from where I was I could see color flush over her face. Probably mine drained of color. She cleared her throat. "Oh, hi, Thad. How are you?"

".... Hi, Mrs. Naylor. I'm... fine." I was not fine.

In addition to the romper she was wearing a pink bandanna around her head, probably to catch sweat and dust as she cleaned. She quickly took it off and made general puffing-up gestures with her hair. "Uh, I'm sorry, if you're looking for Evan, he's not here."

"No, I know, it's... actually I came to see you."

"Oh."

"If that's okay."

She nodded. "Of course." Then she took a deep breath and her face came back to life and she said, "Well of course, of course it's okay. Come on in. I was just about to take a break anyway." She retreated into the living room and I followed her.

There were a few signs that there had been a party here yesterday, a few empty glasses, a few discarded napkins and paper plates, a few hundred cigarettes in the ashtrays, but mostly it was the same old living room where I'd sat and watched TV or played board games with the family for years. Except, now it was completely different. Now I was standing in it with a woman who had seen my dick.

"Have a seat," Mrs. Naylor said. I sat. "Would you like something to drink? A Coke? I still have some lemonade left over from the party."

It was not escaping my attention that Mrs. Naylor was basically staring right at my crotch while she was talking.

"Um, well sure, lemonade would be great. Thanks."

"Of course. Of course."

And I mean, STARING. Not even trying to conceal it, the way I always tried to conceal looking at her breasts. Maybe women weren't good at not staring because they were the ones who usually got stared at, but I'm telling you, if her eyes were hands I could've called the cops on her for molesting me.

So finally she tore herself away and went into the kitchen. I heard her moving around, then I heard a loud crash of something heavy and made of glass. She cried out, "OH!"

"Are you okay, Mrs. Naylor?" I stood up.

"Yes! I'm fine! Just fine, don't WORRY!" Her voice had that same edge of panic in it as yesterday when she was frantically whispering at me to COVER UP, COVER UP! "I just dropped a pitcher. Just an old pitcher. Would -- would a Coke be okay, after all?"

"Yeah, Coke's fine, thanks."

More bustling around in the kitchen, then she came back with a can of Coke and a whiskey glass, which I presumed contained whiskey. She handed me the can (with slightly-shaking hands, I couldn't help but notice) and sat down in her regular chair by the window. But as soon as she sat she popped right back up and went and sat in her husband's chair, which wasn't quite as close to my chair as her chair.

"Are you sure you're okay, Mrs. Naylor?" I asked.

"I'm fine!" she blurted, then she got back up and sat in her chair again. She took a drink and a long, deep breath. "I'm fine." Now, instead of staring at my crotch, she was pointedly looking anywhere around the room but at me, any part of me. "I'm fine," she said once more.

She was acting like I felt, frankly. I wanted to run away and hide, especially right now with her acting so strangely, that made me very uncomfortable, but also I was feeling a little... good, too. I always felt good in Mrs. Naylor's presence, and even though the moment was weird I could still smell her perfume and she was still drop-dead gorgeous, her big breasts still joggled pleasantly when she moved, her (bare) legs were still the most spectacular legs this side of Cheryl Tiegs, she still had the most kissable lips and the brightest blue eyes in the known universe. It was impossible not to feel good around her.

I cleared my throat and said, "Mrs. Naylor, I just came by today to tell you how sorry I am for what happened yesterday. I feel TERRIBLE, and I'm hoping you can find some way to forgive me. I never meant to... to do that." She didn't say anything, she just took another drink and then lit a cigarette. She still wasn't looking at me. Silence.

So I kept going. "I... I don't usually, I mean I don't usually go swimming, that's why I had to borrow Evan's... well, you know, his -- because I didn't have any, and I just didn't KNOW. You know? I mean, I like you, I respect you a lot, I always have, and I would never embarrass you like that, in any way, ever, and I'm so, so, SO sorry that it happened, and I hope... I hope we can... you know... still be..."

Nothing. Nada. Silence. I kept going. "I mean, Evan is my best friend, and I'd hate for him to not be my friend anymore, you know? And YOU, I mean I've always, I mean I guess I've always thought of you as my friend too, I mean kind of, you know..."

Still nothing. So I kept going. "So anyway, I just, I'm SO SORRY, you know? I'm really sorry."

And that was it. I had run down, like a wind-up toy. There was still silence, she still wasn't saying anything or looking at me, so I took a drink of Coke and stood up. What else was there to do? I said, "Anyway, I'm sorry. Thanks for listening to me. I'll go now."

Then I turned to go, and faintly I could hear her say, "Thad."

I turned back and discovered that she had shifted in her seat so she was facing me again, and she was looking up at me from her chair. "Yes, Mrs. Naylor?"

"Thad, you don't owe me any apologies. I'M the one who owes YOU an apology."

"You do? What for?"

"For the thoughts I've been having over the last twenty-four hours."

"What?"

She finished her drink and stood up. "I want to ask you a question. You don't have to answer it if you don't want to."

"I..." I shrugged. "Sure, of course I'll answer it."

"What I saw yesterday, was that really... all YOU? Did I really see what I think I saw?"

"Well... you know... yeah..."

"It's that big? It's that, that LONG?" And she was staring right at it, again.

What was I supposed to say to this? I was always told, respect your elders and never lie to them, so I nodded. It WAS that long, what else could I say?

She swallowed. "I've been thinking about it all day. I haven't slept since the party. I've just been thinking... it CAN'T be as big as I thought it was. It was almost down to your KNEE." A long drag from her cigarette. "They don't... they don't come that big. They can't. CAN they?"

I looked around the room. Was Allen Funt going to jump out from behind the television set? Was she serious? Was I hearing this correctly? My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

"Thad," she said, "I just... I keep thinking I imagined it. Or I saw it wrong in the sunlight. Or something. I couldn't possibly have seen what I thought I saw. Could I?"

"Um... well, do you want me to..." I closed my mouth. No. I couldn't actually SAY that. Not to Mrs. Naylor.

"What?" she asked, interested. "Do I want you to what? What were you going to say?"

"Do you want me to... I dunno... show you?"

She looked me in the eyes again, and her eyes flashed the light of a thousand nuclear bombs, and she said, "YES. Will you, please?"

"Uh, yeah. Okay. Sure." I looked around the room again, to see how exposed we were, but their living room was towards the back of the house so the picture window looked out on the backyard, not the front. There was no way for anybody to see from the street.

So... fine. What the hell. If this would help make everything okay with the family again, I'd let her see it, sure. So I pulled up my shirt and unbuttoned my pants and dropped them, revealing my underpants, which were extra-large boxer shorts that did a lot of the work of hiding it. I looked around yet again, in case someone had snuck into the room in the last three seconds, and then I pulled down my boxers, too, and I stood revealed before my best friend's mother, naked (from the waist down) as the day I was born.

Now. First of all, it wasn't to my KNEE. I mean that's ridiculous, that's like twelve inches or even more. That's a horse. I'm not a horse. I guess you could, yeah, say it was "almost" down to my knee, in the same way that aliens from outer space are "almost" to Earth when they get to the moon, but they've still got 239,000 miles to go, you know what I'm saying?

From the look on Mrs. Naylor's face it was more than long enough. Her mouth dropped open again like it did the day before, and she dropped her cigarette. Quickly she picked it up and brushed the ashes away, never taking her eyes from my dick.

"Oh my goodness," she breathed.

A long minute stretched into several long minutes, I have no idea how many minutes, I just stood there and Mrs. Naylor just stood there gaping at my midsection, and the room was totally quiet.

Was I supposed to DO something right now? I'd never stood naked in front of a woman before in my life. Not in front of a man, either, except my family doctor. And my doctor had written a note for me to get out of showers at the end of gym class, so not in school either. And not my parents, again at the advice of the doctor they'd been buying me large underwear and baggy pants because I had a large penis, but they hadn't required proof or anything, they just bought the stuff.

So the fact was that Mrs. Naylor was the first person (besides Dr. Gould, but he's really not part of this story) to see it. I'd kind of been waiting for this moment for a long time. I knew my dick was very large, I wasn't stupid, but I wasn't sure if it actually MEANT that much, you know? Guys talk about dicks all the time, but does it truly make any difference to women? I had no idea, no idea at all. What would the reaction be of the first person to see it?

Well, the reaction wasn't much so far, but at least I could be reasonably sure that Mrs. Naylor wasn't totally disappointed in what she saw. She seemed... captivated, like she was waiting for it to do a little dance, or something. I felt like she was excited, so I was happy to stand there and excite her.

By the way if you're wondering, no it honestly hadn't occurred to me at this moment to make a move on her or anything. Not at all. Obviously there was something sexual about this moment, and obviously I'd been hot for her body for a long time, but when you came right down to it this was MRS. NAYLOR, Evan's MOM. You fantasized about putting the moves on her, of course, but you'd never actually DO IT.

So I stood there and let her look. No big deal.

"Thad?" she finally managed.

"Yes, Mrs. Naylor?"

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Oh. Sure."

"Is it... hard, right now?"

I looked down at myself. "No."

"Does it get even bigger when it's hard?"

"Well, not really, uh... maybe a little bit."

"What happens? If you don't mind my asking. Do you mind me asking?"

"No, no I don't mind, uh... well it kind of sticks out more, you know, and it gets, you know... hard. And a little bigger around, I guess. Not too much."

She took a final drag on her cigarette and put it out in the standing ashtray next to her. "Well, I have to say, it looks pretty hard right now."

"Thanks," was all I could think of to say.

She took her eyes off of it long enough to look up at me. "Does this make you uncomfortable at all? To be standing here naked like this?"

"No, actually, it doesn't. I'm kind of surprised. I don't mind a bit."

"It doesn't make you feel strange to be standing here naked, while I'm not naked?"

I shrugged. "No, it doesn't make me feel strange at all, honestly. Do you -- sorry, do you want me to put my pants back on?" I leaned down to pick them up.

"No!" she said, holding up her hands in a STOP! gesture. "No, if you don't mind, if it doesn't bother you, you can leave them off. I... I like looking at you this way."

"Oh, thanks," I said again, smiling. "Thanks, Mrs. Naylor. I like it, too."

Her eyebrows raised. "Do you? Do you really?" I nodded. "Well, good, then. Why don't you take off your shirt, if you want? You can walk around... maybe you can help me clean up, if you don't mind."

This was weird, of course, but I was more than happy to go with it. I took off the shirt and dropped it on the pants (kind of flexing my muscles a little bit to try and impress her, you know), and waited. "What do you want me to do?"

"Why don't you, uhm, go into the kitchen and get the wastebasket? Let's empty these ashtrays."

"Okay." I turned and walked to the kitchen, picked up the trash, and walked back with it. I was very conscious of the fact that my dick was swaying and slapping against my legs gently as I walked. I loved making it do that, I'd spent many hours walking in circles around my bedroom, feeling it slap against my legs.

Mrs. Naylor seemed conscious of it, too. "Oh, my GOODNESS," she said again. Her hands were at her throat, on her chest. She swallowed again, staring openly at it, gawking at it, and her face flushed red again, in fact pretty much her whole body flushed.

I went around the room emptying ashtrays while she watched, I wadded up napkins and threw them away, I chucked paper plates and half-eaten food in the garbage, all naked, all gently swinging for her.

Finally I was finished with all that, and I set the garbage can on the floor. "What next?"

"Let me just think a minute," she replied. She used the handkerchief that she'd taken off earlier to wipe her forehead. She was sweating. "Actually, Thad, if you don't mind, would you go refill my glass, please?" She picked it up and held it out for me. I took it, we smiled at each other, only a couple of feet apart now, and I turned and went into the kitchen. "Put in a couple more ice cubes, if you would, and it's the bottle on the counter that says Fleischmann's."

"Okay," I said, reaching into the freezer for ice cubes.

"And maybe add a splash of water," I heard her say from the living room. "Or maybe not. Neat is fine."

I brought it out and handed it to her and she took a drink. "Would you -- oh, I'm sorry, Thad, would you like a drink?"

"Well, I'm only eighteen," I reminded her. "Don't you have to be twenty-one to drink?"

This was total bullshit, of course, I'd been drunk lots of times, but you didn't admit that to your best friend's mother, even if you were standing naked in front of her. Or did you? Hell, who knew the rules at this point?

"Right, right," she said, nodding. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

"It's okay."

We stood there for another minute or two, not far apart at all, she drank her drink and looked at me and I looked at her and wondered what was going to happen next, and I thought to myself, this is really amazing, I don't feel shy right now AT ALL. I'm completely comfortable. I was never even this comfortable around Mrs. Naylor with my clothes ON!

She finished her drink and set it down and faced me again. "Thad, I have to say something."

"Okay."

"It makes me ill at ease for YOU to be standing there without any clothes on, while I'm standing here fully clothed. It's very uncomfortable, I feel like I'm... taking advantage, or something. Are you SURE there's nothing we could do that would make you feel like this is more FAIR, more EQUITABLE, right now?"

And that's when it hit me. Of course. Yes. Right. What a dummy, why didn't I think of it before?

I got shy again, and I'm sure I blushed, but I closed my eyes and made myself say it.

"Well, actually, yeah, Mrs. Naylor, as a matter of fact there IS one thing I've always wanted to do. That would make it more... fair. Yeah."

She smiled that beautiful smile of hers and said, "That's wonderful. Okay, what is it that you've always wanted to do?"

Feeling the adrenaline spill through my body like a tidal wave, I reached out and hooked a finger inside the elastic top of her romper, nestling inside her cleavage, and gently but firmly I pulled it down, until the top slipped over her breasts. It ran into two tiny obstacles as I lowered it and I pulled a little harder and her dark red nipples popped out, and then her breasts were free, as exposed as my -- well, my whole body.

And they were as magnificent as I'd always dreamed, hanging but not droopy, they had a rounded, plump buoyancy that made them seem perky but heavy at the same time, and they were just a little bulbous at the bottom, like two upside-down question marks facing each other. Her nipples, cute little burgundy nubbins which seemed to have gotten erect as I was pulling her top down because I hadn't seen their impression beneath the material a second ago, were slightly off-center but they pointed outwards, not downwards, so they looked a bit wall-eyed, which is how I've always thought of them since. The brown aureole around them were almost perfect dark circles, salted with tiny pimple-looking bumps. Her breasts were simply beautiful. Now it was MY turn to stare, open-jawed.

Her eyes popped wide at my audacity (where had I gotten the balls to actually DO THAT?? I had no clue, it had just happened) but a coy smile played across her face and she took her gaze off my dick long enough to look down at her own tits.

"Well my GOODNESS, you're a bold one all of a sudden," she chuckled huskily. "Who gave you permission to do that?"

"Well, you said it should be fair, now it's fair," I said. "Right?"

"Close enough, I suppose." Her gaze returned to my hanging dick. "Say, do you think that it might get hard, now? What do you think?"

"Yeah, probably."

I was feeling it now, that was for sure, the loins were stirring, the blood was flowing, my breathing was changing, I stared down at those gorgeous jugs, the first in-person naked female breasts I'd ever seen (and they were MRS. NAYLOR'S!!!), as they rose and fell with her own frayed breaths, we stood close together in the center of her living room with daylight flooding in from the backyard, the dapples of sunshine from the surface of the swimming pool playing little stars of light across the room and across her body, we looked at each other and then we looked down at ourselves and we watched, rooted in place, as my dick slowly began to lift itself from its lethargic dangling to a more attentive rising like dough to bread in the oven, until finally, with so much blood surging into my midsection that I felt I might swoon, my cock (it was a COCK now, let's quit being polite and call it what it is) was nearly level and directed straight at Mrs. Naylor's bellybutton, an English Pointer on the hunt that had caught the scent of a game bird.

But what was the Pointer supposed to DO with the game bird? I had no idea.

"My goodness," Mrs. Naylor said for the umpteenth time, staring down at the big hard thing pointing at her. "This... this is suddenly moving very fast, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," I said immediately.

"Don't be sorry."

"Okay."

Looking down with her big blue eyes she nearly touched it, almost, so close, but she stopped herself, her hand hovering over my cock, I almost felt that I could feel the heat of the skin of her palm.

"Thad?"

"Yes, Mrs. Naylor?"

"May I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, Mrs. Naylor."

She cleared her throat. "Do, uh... do girls say that it hurts? When you put it in, I mean. Does it hurt?"

"Well... I don't know, actually."

She looked up at me with surprise. "You mean you're... you're a virgin, Thad?"

I nodded.

Clearly she was taken aback. "Do you mean to tell me that walking around all your life with, with THIS... and being so tall, and handsome, and such a wonderful, funny young man like you are... you've never had sexual intercourse with a woman before?"

I nodded.

"Thad, I'm, I'm shocked. I really am. What about that girl you brought over for dinner a couple months ago? Carrie, wasn't that her name?"

"Karen. Karen Jorgensen."

"Right. What about her? She seemed to like you, a lot. I was jealous of the way she was looking at you, to be perfectly honest."

"Jealous? What do you mean?" I asked.

Mrs. Naylor blinked and shrugged her shoulders demurely and said, "Thad... I've had a little backburner crush on you for a long time now. Couldn't you tell, sweetie?"

I shook my head no. "Well, I have. None of Evan's friends has ever had an effect on me like you have. I can't believe you haven't noticed, I was afraid I've been like a lovelorn schoolgirl around you."

".... Really?"

She nodded. "Yes, really. And ever since seeing -- this -- yesterday I've been going CRAZY." She giggled. "Do you want to know a little secret?" I nodded. "Have you noticed that I'm wearing the same outfit that I was wearing at the party yesterday?" I nodded. "Well, it's not because I've been wearing it since yesterday, it's because I've gone through FOUR pairs of clean panties today, and I everything else is in the wash right now."

I understood the compliment, obviously, but I wasn't sure what she meant by "going through" her panties. She saw the vaguely confused look on my face and smiled tolerantly. "Oh, Thad," she said with affection and took my right hand in both of her hands.

"THIS is what I mean," she said, and pulled me down until I was leaning forward and she guided my hand between her legs and placed my fingers between her thighs. The material of the romper was soaking wet. Her thighs were dripping.

"This is what happens to a woman when she gets excited," Mrs. Naylor explained, holding my hand there. "To ME, especially. I'm like a fire hydrant. As you can tell."

"Wow," I said, looking down at where my hand was. I couldn't believe it.

She held my hand there for another minute, then she pulled it from between her legs and held it up between us. My fingers were filmed over with a thick whitish liquid, not quite as thick or white as my own personal cum, but still pretty good. I hadn't known anything came out of a woman, I thought it all came from the guy. This was incredible. I rubbed my fingers together.

"So there'll be a lot of that," Mrs. Naylor said. "I hope it doesn't gross you out or anything."

"NO, it... no. No. It doesn't."

She smiled. "Good. So anyway," she said, letting go of my hand and returning her gaze to my rock-like cock, still pointing straight at her, "So Candy Jorgensen didn't get to see this, huh?"

"Carrie Jorgensen," I corrected her reflexively, then corrected myself. "KAREN Jorgensen. No. She didn't. Nobody has. Until now."

She looked up at me again, a look of genuine concern on her pretty face. "Thad... have you ever even kissed a woman?" Looking her right in the eyes, I shook my head no. "Oh, BABY," she cooed, and stepped forward to put her hands on my face, bumping into my pointing cock, which poked her right in her belly.

"OH!" she cried out. "Oops. Goodness gracious. He can get in the way a little bit, can't he?"

She moved around it until it was settled against her hip, and she leaned up and pulled my face down and suddenly her lips were on mine, and yet another thing I'd always dreamed of doing was now done. She kissed me and I tried to kiss her, but I was inexperienced and her nipples were grazing my stomach, which was distracting.

"Mmmm, do this sweetie," she said, nibbling on my lips and turning my head just a bit, and then she said, "Now give me your tongue, baby," and then, "Nnng not THAT much tongue, sweetie, just this much," and she was dancing her tongue into my mouth and showing me what to do, and her fingers were all through my hair and she was cupping my jaw and whispering soft little instructions in my ear, she told me to put my hands on her waist and hold her against me, she told me to kiss her neck and her ears and suck on her earlobes, but don't bite the earrings honey, that's right, that's right...

Her hands roamed my shoulders and my chest and my arms and my back, she took my hands again and put them tenderly on her breasts, covering my hands with hers and showing me how to squeeze and cup them, taking my fingers and showing me how to play and pinch her nipples. She showed me everything.

My breathing was ragged now and I was so overcome with sensation and desire that I truly felt I might faint, and she pulled my head down and held me against her breasts, cooing softly in my ear, "It's all right baby, it's all right, shhhh, shhhhh...."

I calmed down as much as I could given the circumstances, and then she pulled my face up and kissed me again and said with a little laugh, "Well, sweetheart, I've definitely gone through another outfit down there, I'm about as wet as I could be... let's you and I adjourn to the guest bedroom downstairs, shall we?"

"Okay," I muttered. Shaking, like I was in the arctic wastelands, sweating like I was inside the sun. Anything, I'd have done anything for her.

"Baby, why don't you pick up our clothes and bring them with us, just to be safe?" she suggested, and when I did she took my hand and led me out of the living room and down the hall to the basement stairs. My cock bobbed in front of me, and I was in such an anxious state that I bumped into her with it again. She smiled over her shoulder and looked down at it. "Feeling in a bit of a hurry?"

I swallowed, nodded. She squeezed my hand and flicked on the basement light, then led me down the stairs. My cock bobbled painfully up and down with each step, I wanted to take hold of it but I was afraid to touch it, my whole body was filling into it, my mind, my soul, emptying into my cock and making it so excruciatingly sensitive that I even felt the cooler basement air on it as we went down.

Then I felt the shag carpet between my toes and she was leading me through the "game room" with a pool table and a dart board and a second TV and down another hall past the laundry room and the spare bathroom and into the guest bedroom, and she turned on the light.

It was nothing much, an old spring bed covered with an old quilt and a shitload of pillows and a chair and a dresser and a closet, but I suddenly realized that this was the room I was going to lose my virginity in, and it seemed like the fanciest, ritziest, most extravagant room in the whole world.

"Shut the door, sweetie," she instructed, and walked over to the bed while I did it.

She leaned down to push some of the pillows off the bed and her breasts hung down and swung pendulously and I stared at her open-mouthed and forgot how to breathe.

She saw my distress and said, "It's okay, Thad, it's OKAY, there's nobody but you and me here, there's no hurry at all, just breathe in, just breathe out, everything's FINE, okay?"

I nodded and subsided a bit, but then Mrs. Naylor hooked her thumbs under the elastic belt of her romper and pulled it down her long tan legs and kicked it aside and said, "It's so soggy in the crotch I may as well have taken a shower in the thing," and then I could see the wispy, glittering brown hairs of her pussy, my first-ever real-life pussy sighting, and I saw the tiny rubbery lips dangling there between her thighs and I completely forgot how to breathe again.

Mrs. Naylor shushed me tenderly, calmly again and I just about had breathing figured out once more when she stepped over to me and cupped my heavy cock in her hand, her fingers slipping around the hard shaft oh so softly and she whispered in a low, husky voice, "Okay, come over here and--"

--and that was all she had time for because at that second I exploded right in her hand, I bent over and started gasping for air at the feel of her touch as my hips bucked and it splooged out of me in a sudden geyser of viscous white goo all over her arm and her hip and her belly, lattering across her in sticky little ropes and finally splatting onto the carpeted floor, draining me, emptying me of all my strength in just a few wild seconds.

"Oh MY!" she cried out as it splashed onto her, but to my undying gratitude she held (gently) on to my cock and (firmly) rubbed it while it dripped from her fingers and her arm, she moved protectively close to me and put her other arm around my neck and pulled me down and whispered in my ear SHHH, SHHH my baby SHHHH it's okay, it's okay, it's all right....

With expert care, Mrs. Naylor rubbed and milked the last of it out of my cock and held on to me as I shuddered away the last of my orgasm.

Then with her clean hand she took my hand and led me over to the bed and calmly guided me backwards until I was sitting down on the bed, and she pulled my head against her soft breasts and stroked my shoulders and back until my breathing was under control again, at long last.

"Oh baby, oh, sweetie," she said, kissing the top of my head. "Are you okay?"

"I... I guess," I managed. "God Mrs. Naylor I'm so--"

She put a finger to my lips and said, "DON'T be sorry, don't be sorry," but it was the finger dripping with my cum and I tasted it and I gagged a little and she had to shush me again, wiping the glop from my lips with her clean fingers.

"I'll be right back," she said and padded out of the room, the stark white cheeks of her ass shaking attractively as she walked. I watched, but I felt so ashamed of myself that I couldn't really enjoy the view.

She came back a minute later, wiping off her fingers and her arm with a wet washcloth. As I watched she knelt down, still naked, in the middle of the floor and used the cloth to clean up as much of the cum that had landed in the carpet as she could.

She looked up at me and smiled. "You look pretty tired, Thad. Do you want to lie down for a few minutes?"

"No, I'm okay," I replied glumly.

"Let's clean you off too," she said and scooted over to me on her knees. She started to wipe off the head of my cock but she stopped, gaping at it. "Are you... Thad, are you HARD again already?"

I looked down. "No."

"Good grief, it's so doggone BIG it looks hard no matter what." Again she slipped her fingers around it and tenderly squeezed, shaking her head. "It even FEELS hard, to me. Not as hard as a minute ago, but plenty hard enough to get the job done."

"I'm really really sorry, Mrs. Naylor," I said. I couldn't help saying it, I felt so bereft that I wasn't hearing what she was saying, or even registering that her fingers were around my cock.

From her knees she looked up into my face. "Baby, baby, stop saying you're sorry, there's NOTHING to be sorry for! I mean it."

"Will you... will you give me another chance one of these days? Please?" I begged, feeling my solitary chance at Heaven slipping away because of a stupid rookie virgin blunder.

She laughed and got to her feet. "One of these DAYS? Sweetheart, I'm going to give you another chance right NOW. Come ON." She pulled me to my feet.

"What -- what do you --"

"Let's give it a try right now," Mrs. Naylor said, climbing on to the bed. She sat down and propped herself up, spreading her legs and patting the bed between them. "Come on, tiger."

Trying not to think about the fact that her son had called me "tiger" too a little while ago, I said, "Mrs. Naylor, are you serious? I mean..."

"Of course I'm serious, you silly goose. Listen, sweetie, no kidding, it's thicker right now than Henry ever was at his most rough-and-ready... and, you know, maybe if it's not ALL THE WAY hard it'll fit better and not be painful. Who knows? Let's TRY it, at least." Looking up at me, she patted the bed again, and then petted her own pussy, rubbing the lips gently with her fingers. "Don't you want to?"

Well THAT was a dumb question, and to show her how dumb I hopped on the bed so eagerly that she almost bounced right off it, giggling as she held on. "Oh, BOY!" she laughed, and she moved her legs around until I was kneeling between them, gazing down for the first time in my life at a naked woman waiting for me to fuck her.

I vowed it would not be the last time.

Mrs. Naylor laid back onto the pillows and watched me through half-lidded eyes as I scooted closer to her, and she said softly, "Okay, now, Thad, take hold of it and rub the tip of it against me, okay? Don't try to put it in yet, just rub up and down, up and down."

Again I was so overwhelmed with what was happening that I didn't know what to do. I got hold of my cock but I just stared slack-jawed at the sparkling, parted lips literally dripping with her juices and I froze, forgot how to breathe again.

"Let me show you, baby," she whispered, and she touched herself with two fingers, parting the labia and slowly rubbing with easy, gently rhythmic strokes. "Mmmmmm," she breathed, looking up into my eyes and rubbing her lips (the ones on her face) with her other fingers. "See? Nice and easy. Now you try it."

I leaned down and she held herself open as I touched her there with the thick, helmet-shaped head of my cock. She gasped and breathed deeper and huffed, "Up... and down, baby, up... and down," and I guided it upwards against the soft wetness of her pussy, then back down as she'd instructed, and then again, and again, the feeling of gliding myself within the liquid elastic flesh, combined with how sensitive my cock was already, made me tremble and I actually nearly broke into tears over how good it felt.

It was HAPPENING, at long last, after a lifetime of looking at dirty magazines and dreaming and waiting and hoping it was finally happening to me, for real.

"Easy honey, yes, GOOD," she whispered, "that's perfect, mmmmmmmyes, yes, goooood...."

As I rubbed her I reflected calmly that the head of my cock looked WAY too big to fit inside that beautiful little thing down there, but what I was feeling right now was so delicious I decided not to worry about it. That would take care of itself.

So I stroked like she'd showed me, up... and down, up... and down, and Mrs. Naylor huffed and puffed, and after a couple minutes of this her breathing abruptly changed and she gasped for air and her head arched back and she cried out, "OH OH OH OH OH!!" and suddenly there was even MORE juice coming out of her, it actually squirted out onto me, all over my cock, making a little puddle beneath us, and her hips jumped and she took two handfuls of the quilt.

When she was finished she sank back into the bed, looking as depleted as I'd felt a few minutes ago, and looking down at my glazed, dripping cock I realized she had just done to me what I'd done to her. Who knew women could actually do that??

Not knowing what else to do I just kept rubbing, while she got her breathing under control again. She was looking up at me with an expression I couldn't exactly read, but she didn't seem angry, so I smiled at her and she smiled back and nodded and swallowed and then she said in a shaking, raspy voice, "Let's try it now. Okay?"

"Okay," I said.

Her knees bent and her feet slid a bit closer to her as she parted her legs even more, and she reached down with both hands to hold herself open, and she said, "Now just slowly, very slowly, push the tip of it forward until you feel where it goes in, and then push it in. VERY gently."

I rubbed a couple more times, just for practice, then I pressed it forward and almost immediately I found the entryway she was talking about, something pliable and soft seemed to open itself for me and I moved my hips and suddenly, like a miracle, like Moses parting the sea in that old movie, I was watching the rubbery mushroom head of my cock disappear inside her.

It seemed to pull me in and close around me simultaneously, I wouldn't call it WIDE or even WELCOMING, exactly, but with her juices to slick the way I was allowed in, I felt her opening herself for me and before I knew it I had pushed a couple of inches inside her.

"Oh oh oh OH!!!!" Mrs. Naylor cried out (in pain?) and one of her hands was on my stomach, not pushing me away but firm, and instinctively I pulled myself out.

"Nonono, baby, no, it's okay, keep going, put it back, it's okay, come on, it's okay."

Understanding where and how it went in now, I took a determined hold of my cock and rubbed the tip of it with more confidence this time, and kind of rubbed myself inside her, pushing through the moist folds of her cunt and knowing it would give way, reluctantly but invitingly, and the wine-purple head vanished inside and another inch vanished and another inch and another, it was all very close-fitting and not entirely resistant, then I heard her whimper and I looked up at her face and saw her biting her lower lip and squeezing her eyes shut and I wondered if I was hurting her but one of her hands was on my hip and pulling me gently toward her so I took that as a sign that it was okay, and I slowly, lightly pushed my hips forward a bit more and another inch vanished inside her.

"OH oh oh ohh oh OH O O O O --" she moaned through barely-parted lips, I had no idea what it meant, I didn't know any sounds women made during sex because I'd only ever seen pictures of it, maybe this was the sound they all made...?

Another inch or so gradually pushed its way inside her and she gasped, "O--okayokay, that's -- that's enough for now... mmmmmmm.... Okay, baby, now... now I want you to move your hips back -- just a little, not all the way, don't pull it out -- back and forward again, just little bits now."

I moved my hips as she taught me, gliding my cock back and forth, slowly at first but feeling the friction of her tightness around me intuitively I picked up speed, realizing that what I was doing was rubbing myself inside her cunt instead of outside it, and for the first time it occurred to me that that's what fucking was: RUBBING.

I grunted, "Uhhh, uggghh -- uh, Mrs. Naylor?"

"... Yes, Thad?" she moaned.

"Am I... uuhh... am I not a... am I not a virgin anymore now?"

She made a sound a little like a laugh and she said, "Yes honey, you aren't a virgin any more. OHHHH OH OH OH OH!"

"Okay GOOD," I huffed, and bucked my hips forward and she cried out again and more juices squirted out of her and onto me. I liked her squirting juices, I liked that a lot.

If this was fucking, if this was what having sex was, I decided I was going to love it.

So we experimented for awhile with my movements, and with her guidance I learned to find a rhythm to how I moved my hips, I learned the difference from the sounds she made between big hard thrusts and quick, short little movements back and forth, Mrs. Naylor seemed to like those best so I did that more but I liked the hard pushing too, that felt really good and the loud warbling noises she made when I did it turned me on, even if it did seem to signal at least a little bit of pain on her part, but she kept telling me to keep going, keep going, so I kept going.

She came at least once more while we were doing it, maybe even three times, it was hard to tell because Mrs. Naylor was a woman who made a lot of sounds during sex (and actually I knew that already, I'd heard her and Mr. Naylor going at it a few times when I'd had a sleepovers with Evan over the years) so I just kept doing what she'd taught me to do and I hoped she was having lots of orgasms. She was (or seemed to be) in the middle of one when there was a knock on the door.

We froze.

"Mom?" The voice outside the door was the voice of my best friend, who'd brought me here and made possible everything that had happened to me in the last two hours or so.

Breathing hard, Mrs. Naylor said, "Evan? Is that you?"

"Yeah -- hey I'm sorry to bother you, it sounds like you're having a nice time in there, but... did Thad already leave?"

"Oh -- oh, yes, sweetie, he did." She looked up at me and put a finger to her lips in a SHH gesture. Like she really needed to do that.

"But did you guys talk and everything? I was hoping you'd work everything out."

"We -- yes, we did, we talked. Everything is fine now."

"He told me what happened. Pretty crazy, huh?"

"Crazy," Mrs. Naylor said, looking me up and down and favoring me with a smile that said what had happened was GOOD crazy, very good crazy. I currently had several inches of my cock stretching out her pussy, so it felt like pretty good crazy to me, too.

"Well, I'm gonna head out and see if I can find him. Maybe he's walking home. I was thinking, if things are okay now maybe I could invite him to dinner tonight and he could open all his presents and have some cake and stuff. Is that cool?"

"Yes, that'll be fine. Evan, I'm a little busy right now..."

"Yah, I got it, you go back to what you were doing. Sorry to bother you, Mom."

"It's all right, honey. I'll see you later. I love you."

"Love you too."

We heard him walk away and then we heard the stairs creak as he went up. Deep breaths, and we finally relaxed.

"I'm sure he's gone now," she whispered.

"Should I go so he can find me?" I whispered back.

"No you should NOT go," she smiled and shifted her hips around. "You should get back to work, my wonderful amazing lover boy."

"Okay." I started to do my rubbing movements again, then I stopped. Since my brain was working again for the moment, something occurred to me. "Actually, can I ask you a question, Mrs. Naylor?"

"MmmmOHHHH -- um, yes, Thad, what is it?"

"Well I just... I'm not supposed to cum inside you, right? You could get pregnant, right?"

She smiled. "Oh. Well, I don't know if you technically CAN, because you said you aren't hard even though you certainly FEEL hard..." --another glance down at the thick, glazed shaft of my cock half-buried between her spread legs-- "but it's not something you need to worry about. I'm on the pill, so I won't get pregnant."

"Oh... I see. Okay."

"ARE you hard again?"

I shrugged. "Well, yeah, kind of, I think so." I was feeling a lot of things I'd never felt before in my life, and it was hard to tell for sure either way at the moment.

"That's all right if you are, sweetie. If you need to do it, you DO it. I'm just fine. Okay?"

"Okay, Mrs. Naylor."

"So go ahead--" But I had already started pumping my hips again, giving her the short fast strokes she liked so much, and I felt her legs close around me again and her grip on my arms tightened again, and just like that we were fucking again.

I wished I could be all the way inside her so I could lay on top of her and kiss her and do everything I'd seen in the magazines, but I had a lot farther to go before I was all the way, and I wondered if maybe I'd NEVER be able to be all the way inside Mrs. Naylor. That was a disappointing thought.

On the other hand, propped up on my knees surveying her whole body like I was, I felt a certain measure of control, of power, in my distance from her, I felt that I could give her as much as I wanted, which, conversely, meant that I could WITHHOLD as much as I wanted, and make her want it MORE, in fact make her BEG for it, which sounded pretty good to me.

I decided to try it. I pulled my hips back, and although she held on tightly with her cunt I popped out of her.

Her eyes opened. "Is -- is anything--wrong, baby?"

"No, it's fine," I said, and guided it back in a few inches. The wide-eyed, open-mouthed look on her face indicated that I had her attention. I gave her a good big hard thrust, deeper than I'd gone so far, and her fingernails dug into my arms and she cried out.

"OH OH OH YES OH OHH!!!"

I did a few more of those, I really liked those, and then I slowed down and gave her some of the little ones, as kind of a prize for being able to handle the big ones, and then I pulled out again. This time she didn't seem fazed, she just kept making her sounds, and I took hold of my cock and rubbed it against her inflamed, juicy pussy, and then I worked it inside again.

"O God, O lord, O YES OHHHH," she moaned, and I was learning more and more.

Pretty soon I started to feel like I had a lot of the control even though she was the experienced one, and I liked having the control, but then suddenly I lost all the control because it was happening, that big flood of sensation all to one place was happening, and before I could even think how to begin to form the words to tell her that I was cumming, I was cumming. I went stiff as a board over her and moved my hips back and forth spasmodically, no control at all, and pumped it into her, and it oozed out of her, and between her and me it was just a mess.

Gradually my movements slowed and I pulled out of her, I'd never felt so exhausted in my life and I just basically collapsed on the bed beside her. We both lay still for awhile, catching our breath.

Mrs. Naylor turned on her side to face me and put her hand on my cheek.

"Well, that's your first time," she said.

"Yeah," I said.

"How did you like it?"

We laughed for a long time.

After awhile she got out of bed and went into the bathroom, I heard the toilet flush and the water running, and eventually she came back in wearing new clothes and I remembered the laundry room was down here in the basement.

"Okay sleepyhead," she said, smiling down at my prone nakedness, "I think it's time to get a move on. Poor Evan is probably still driving around looking for you."

"Oh yeah." I sat up. Then I fell back. "JESUS I'm so tired, I can't believe it."

"I know how you feel, baby. I could sleep for days." Her gaze took me in from head to toe, lingering at my midsection. She reached down and touched my dick (it was a dick again, having finished its work as a cock), stroking it lightly with her fingers. "My GOODNESS you're amazing, Thad. How could I have overlooked this thing about you for all these years?"

"I dunno, Mrs. Naylor."

I looked at her, all dressed with her hair combed and everything, she was just regular old wife-and-mother Mrs. Naylor again, and except for a bit of extra color in her face you couldn't tell at all that quite recently I'd been screwing her brains out.

"But you really do have to get up now," she reminded me.

"Okay," I said. I tried to sit up but fell back again. Laughing, she grabbed my arms and tried to pull me up to a sitting position, but I kept falling back, exhausted, dog-tired, washed out. "I just can't seem to do it," I said finally. "I can't move."

"Okay, well, would it help you move if I mentioned that my husband will be home soon, and he owns about twenty guns?"

That helped. I got to my feet and found my clothes (Mrs. Naylor slapped me on the butt when I bent over to pick them up) and went into the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. When I came out of the bathroom the basement was empty. She'd gone upstairs. I ducked into the room where my life had changed forever and found that Mrs. Naylor had already stripped the bed. Man she was efficient, I'd have forgotten all about the wet spot.

Keeping a careful lookout for Evan or his sisters (or Mr. Naylor and his guns), I crept upstairs and went into the living room, where I heard Mrs. Naylor moving about and singing her Ricky Nelson songs again, like nothing had ever happened. She was cleaning the house, and I was still barely able to move my legs. When she saw me she stopped and looked over at me.

I said, "Okay, well... I guess I'll see you later?"

"Of course. You're coming over for dinner tonight, remember?"

"Oh yeah."

"But don't ASSUME it, wait for Evan to ask you. That's important."

"Okay."

"And you should probably walk towards downtown, take the long way home, so he won't wonder why he hasn't found you yet. Stop at the store and get a candy bar or something."

"Oh. Right. Okay, good idea." How did she know so much about all this stuff? I was still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I'd just had sex for the first time in my life.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tonight, then," I said.

"Okay sweetie. See you tonight." She went back to her dusting and singing, and after a minute she registered that I was still standing there and she stopped. "Is everything okay?"

"Well... um... I guess I'd just like to say, you know... thank you."

She favored me with one of her patented, heart-melting smiles. God what a beautiful woman!

I wanted to ask her if it was possible for us to have sex again sometime, but she'd already gone back to dusting and it seemed like a question I probably shouldn't ask right now. Maybe she needed some time to figure out what she wanted to do. Maybe now that she'd gotten away with it she was going to reevaluate the whole thing and decide the risk wasn't worth it. Her whole life here, her house, her family, her friends... her husband, his guns...

The front door closed behind me and I walked quickly down the steps, then headed north towards downtown. Buy a candy bar at the store on the corner, then make myself noticeable so Evan will spot me while he's driving around looking for me. Wait for him to ask me to dinner tonight. Play it cool. Very, very cool.

Hey Wanamaker, didyamaker?

Yes I did.