Chris and His Two Families Pt. 01

This is a work of fiction created by the author.

All caricatures involved in sexual acts are over the age of 18.

This story will have many parts.

This is a work of fiction created by the author.

All caricatures involved in sexual acts are over the age of 18.

Hi, my name is Christopher.

I live with my family in a small town on an isolated island near Australia.

Although our town is small compared to the big cities, I can assure you that we have everything we need, and we almost need nothing from the outside world.

To the south of our town is our small international airport. To the west, we have our industrial district and the ocean port. In the east, we have our farms and the woods, and to the north, we have our beach.

I have an athletic build, standing 185 cm tall and weighing 80 kg. I'm also good-looking, with brown curly hair and wide brown eyes.

We live in the suburbs near the farms, where the cream of our society resides.

Our house is a large mansion, which my friends from high school used to call "The Palace." Later, I found out that everyone in the town calls it that. Maybe it's because it's almost like a palace, with its 10 rooms, the servants' wing, a large garden at the front, and a swimming pool in the backyard.

Or maybe it's because we live there with my grandfather, Richard Christopher.

My grandfather is the crowned king of our town. He owns almost half of it, including the farms, factories, shops, lands, and even the companies that run the airport and the port. Nothing happens in the city without his knowledge--and often, without his approval.

He was almost 65 years old when our first major crash took place, he was at that time still in great shape. At 185 cm tall, I was the same height as him--perhaps I had inherited his height. He could break your arm just by shaking your hand. I loved and respected him, but I also feared him, thinking a million times before doing anything that might upset him.

There's no need to tell you that he controlled every aspect of our lives--mine, my mother Carol's, my Aunt Elizabeth's, my twin sister Emma's, and my cousin Jean's. It was almost impossible for any of us to make a decision without his approval.

My mother, Carol, is the kindest person in the world. She is my grandfather's assistant; they are always together. She is his counsel and his right hand in his business. She was blonde, a walking atomic bomb with her 175 cm height and 65 kg weight. Sometimes, I thought she was a perfect creation, with every part of her body in the right place and the right shape.

I always wondered how they could be so close with their different personalities. But Mom once told me that they both needed each other. She stops him when he's getting too cruel, and he stops her from being too merciful. I didn't understand what she meant, but I didn't care either. They both treated me well, and I had almost everything I needed, so why should I care?

My Aunt Elizabeth is younger than my mother. She also helps her father in business, but she is like a smaller version of him, only prettier. No need to tell you that she, too, is tall--just like the rest of my family.

It was always difficult to catch her laughing or even smiling, and she obeyed her father blindly, always taking his side.

My twin sister, Emma, was smarter than me. She left early that year for college in Sydney, studying business in one of the prestigious university, enjoying one of the many scholarships she earned after high school. She visited us every weekend.

Finally, Jean, my 19-year-old cousin, left for her college too studying marketing in the same university with my twin, but she rarely visited us.

I felt stuck in my small town, though I had big dreams of going to college and living on my own for the first time--without the fear of being caught by my grandfather. Unfortunately, I wasn't smart enough to earn the grades needed to attend college, nor was I talented enough to secure a scholarship like Emma and Jean had.

Of course, my grandfather could afford to send me to any college in the world, but to my surprise, he refused. That was when the first clash happened.

Grandfather told me that colleges were for the smart or the talented, not for airheads like me. He said he wouldn't invest his money in me until I proved I deserved every penny. "Nothing will be offered to you on a golden plate, boy," he said.

I didn't fully understand what that meant, especially since he knew that with my academic skills--and even my sports abilities--I didn't stand a chance in a hundred years of getting into college. Strangely, my mother, who had always taken my side in every battle, sided with her father this time.

Before I could even process that disaster, he hit me with another: he cut all my allowances.

Suddenly, I wasn't receiving anything from him--or from my mom. He said it was enough that he let me live in his house, but now I had to work.

"Okay, let's work," I thought when he again blew me with his third decision---he wouldn't hire me at any of his companies. At that moment, I was really fucked.

But my mother came through for me. Thanks to her, I found a job at one of her best friend's restaurants. I was honored--to become the new delivery boy for the place.

At first, I was furious. How could I explain this to my friends? Or better call them my high school mates, because I had no actual friends at that time, The idea of delivering food to their houses made my ego ache. I seriously considered leaving the house and heading to Sydney to start my own life.

"It's only a start, Chris. Believe me, this will be good for you," my mother tried to reassure me.

Good for me, MY ASS, was that all what she could say instead of battling with her father for me.

"It's just a matter of time until he hires you in one of his companies. Believe me, just don't fight the storm until it passes," Mom said on another occasion.

"Mom's right, Chris," my twin sister, Emma, chimed in.

"Sooner or later, we'll inherit that stubborn old man's empire. He'll have no choice but to hire you. If not for you, then for his image in society."

Honestly, I didn't have many other choices. Even leaving for Sydney to start from scratch didn't seem like a smart idea. At least here, I was guaranteed a roof over my head and three meals a day.

So, I started my new job. And, between you and me, I actually began to enjoy it.

It suited me well. I was always on the move, bouncing from place to place, meeting new people every day. More importantly, I was out of the house almost all the time.

But before you start thinking I'm just an airhead like my grandfather always said, let me set the record straight: I'm smart--really smart--but not a hardworking student.

I was athletic, in excellent shape, but again, I couldn't bring myself to put in the effort required to win championships or secure a scholarship.

You've probably heard my problems by now, and maybe you sympathized, maybe you didn't. But that wasn't my real problem.

My real problem was that I was 19 and still a virgin.

I used to think I was good with girls, but the truth is, I've never been with one intimately. I've never even seen a naked woman in real life. The closest I've gotten was with my girlfriend--or maybe she's my ex now; I'm not sure where we stand anymore. Just before she left for college, we shared a moment of intimacy, a hand job, but nothing more. Since then, she hasn't come back home, or may be she came but didn't call, I'm not sure too.

My body feels like it's betraying me these days, especially my cock. It refuses to settle, constantly reminding me of its frustration by standing tall under my trousers. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, it insists on making its presence known, creating an embarrassing tent that I can't hide.

Today, I decided to take a risk--a big one. I've become obsessed with the idea of being with a woman. Just thinking about it drives me insane. The word alone--fucking--sends shivers down my spine. It's not just a thought anymore; it's a dream I need to make a reality soon, or I'll lose my mind entirely.

So why haven't I found someone yet? The answer, strangely enough, lies with my grandfather. No, I'm not trying to shift the blame onto him, but because of his influence in the city, people have always treated me and my family with caution.

Even back in high school, our classmates were hesitant around us, wary of stepping out of line. It created a barrier I could never quite break through, and that hesitation followed me into adulthood.

Even the teachers were careful around us. They believed that upsetting us meant upsetting the king, and no one wanted to deal with the wrath of royalty.

To give you an example, when my twin and I turned eighteen, we held a grand party in what our classmates called "the palace"--our home.

Everyone showed up, bearing expensive presents, but most of them left within half an hour. No one wanted to linger in the lion's den or play with his cubs.

So I decided if I can't find my luck with girls in my age why don't I try my luck with older women.

All what I had to do is planting seeds everywhere and wait for the harvest.

Collecting all my courage I decided to put my desperate plan in action.

I entered our kitchen and started,

"Good afternoon Mrs. Monica,"

Mrs. Monica was our housekeeper--or, as she preferred to call herself, the "house manager."

She'd been working in our house for as long as I could remember, managing everything with the help of two maids, Jasmine and Lilly, and Samuel, the gardener.

She's the kind of woman who blends practicality with quiet strength, her appearance humble but put-together. Somewhere in her early-to-mid forties--though you couldn't pinpoint the exact number--she carries herself with the calm assurance of someone who's managed both chaos and calm with equal grace.

Her face is soft and kind, with gentle lines forming around her eyes from years of smiling, frowning, and managing life's daily surprises. Her brown hair is neatly kept, shoulder-length with a few silver strands that catch the light. Her figure is average, neither slim nor heavy--just real and lived-in, the way a woman who gets things done tends to be, but honestly not a woman that attract attention to a young man like me, but I was desperate.

Dressed for her role as a house manager, she wore a tidy button-up blouse tucked into practical slacks. Sensible shoes. Nothing flashy, but always clean, coordinated, and ready for movement--whether she was organizing staff, taking inventory, or handling a last-minute issue with steady efficiency. A watch on her wrist, a pen always nearby, and a voice that was firm but never harsh.

There was no drama in how she looked--just a grounded presence, the kind that made a household run smoothly and gave people around her a sense of calm.

"Afternoon, Chris. How can I help you?" she asked as I entered the kitchen. It was just the two of us.

"I was wondering if I could have an orange juice before dinner," I said, trying to sound casual. My throat was dry, and my heart raced.

She gave me a curious look, then nodded.

"Of course, Chris. I'll have Lilly bring it to you in five minutes."

I nodded, turned to leave, then hesitated. I looked back at her.

"Mrs. Monica... have I ever thanked you for taking care of us all these years?"

Her expression softened. She blinked once, and her cheeks flushed a light pink.

"It's my job, Chris."

I stepped closer and offered a small, sincere smile.

"And you do it perfectly. Thank you."

She looked at me--just for a moment--then turned away, busying herself at the counter.

About thirty minutes later, I returned to the kitchen with the empty glass in hand. She was still there, her sleeves rolled up now, focused on preparations.

I placed the glass in the sink and turned to her.

"The juice was delicious, Mrs. Monica. I wish I could have another."

She smiled faintly, not meeting my eyes.

"I'm sure we can arrange that--after dinner."

I stepped closer, careful not to crowd her.

"Can I talk to you again? Maybe after everything calms down tonight?" I asked gently.

She paused, hands stilling as she set down a knife.

"Chris..." Her voice was quiet. "That wouldn't be appropriate."

I held her gaze, not pushing, only asking.

"I just want to talk. That's all."

She looked at me for a long second, uncertainty flickering across her face. Then she gave the slightest nod.

"After dinner. Briefly."

I smiled, grateful for the trust.

"Thank you, Monica."

And with that, I left the kitchen--this time, not looking back.

About thirty minutes later, I returned to the kitchen with the empty glass in hand. Mrs. Monica was still there, busy with preparations. I placed the glass in the sink and turned to her.

"The juice was delicious, Mrs. Monica. I wish I could have another," I said with a playful smile.

She didn't look at me right away, but I noticed the corners of her mouth twitch. Her voice came out low and composed.

"I'm sure we can arrange that--after dinner, Chris."

Encouraged by her tone, I stepped a little closer, keeping my posture relaxed.

"Maybe after dinner, we can talk. There's something I've been wanting to say."

That made her pause. She finally looked at me, searching my face.

"Chris," she said gently, "I think you're feeling something that's... complicated. And I don't want you to mistake kindness for anything else."

"I'm not," I said quietly. "But I get it. I just--wanted you to know I appreciate you. Genuinely."

Her eyes softened. She gave a small nod and turned back to her work, but not before I saw her expression shift--something uncertain, maybe even tender.

"I'll bring you another juice after dinner," she said. "And... maybe we can talk for a few minutes."

"Just talk," I promised. "Nothing more."

And I left the kitchen, the silence between us charged with something unspoken--but understood.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monica served dinner with the help of Lilly and Jasmine. I tried to appear casual, but inside, I was a wreck. I couldn't shake the fear--what if Monica told my grandfather about what happened earlier in the kitchen? I could be kicked out of the house, or worse, humiliated in front of the entire family.

But there was no undoing what I'd done. I hadn't acted with sense--I'd acted on impulse, driven by something I didn't fully understand. Or control.

At dinner, my grandfather eventually excused himself to his home office, calling my mother and aunt to join him. That left me alone in the living room, as usual.

Lilly and Jasmine retreated to the kitchen. I watched Monica from a distance, unsure what she was thinking. She never once looked in my direction.

Later that night, I took a quick shower and changed into a plain T-shirt and shorts. Sleep felt impossible. My mind raced with guilt, curiosity, and a strange hope I didn't want to admit.

By midnight, I'd given up. I turned off the lights and lay in the dark, replaying the day. I knew I owed Monica an apology--if she'd even speak to me.

Then I heard it: a soft knock on my door.

My heart leapt.

"Come in," I called, sitting up quickly.

The door creaked open. Monica stood there, backlit by the hallway light. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her.

"Are you decent, Chris?" she asked softly.

I nodded. "Yeah. Come in."

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She didn't move closer, staying near the entrance.

"We need to talk," she said.

I stood but kept my distance. "Okay. I'm listening."

She took a breath. "What happened earlier... that can't happen again."

"I know," I said quickly. "I crossed a line. I shouldn't have--"

"You made me uncomfortable, Chris," she interrupted, gently but firmly. "You're not a child anymore, but that doesn't mean you get to test people's boundaries."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," I said, my voice low. "I just... I think I read something that wasn't there."

Her expression softened, and she nodded slightly. "You're young. Curious. But I'm not someone you can experiment with. This house is my job, my home. I can't afford mistakes--not like that."

"I get it," I said. "And I'm sorry, Monica."

A long silence hung between us. Finally, she sighed and said, "Goodnight, Chris. Thank you for listening."

"Wait," I said as she opened the door. "If I ever made you feel like I didn't respect you--I didn't mean to. You've been kind to me since I was a kid. I just... confused gratitude with something else."

She looked back, her eyes thoughtful. "That confusion happens to a lot of people. What matters is what you do with it."

Then she left, closing the door gently behind her.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door. The air still felt charged, but it wasn't lust anymore. It was something quieter. Respect, maybe. Growth.

Or the start of something that might take much longer to understand.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up at 10 a. m., my shift starting at 11.

After a quick shower--pouring what felt like gallons of cold water on my persistent morning boner, with no success--I got dressed and had breakfast, which Jasmine had prepared. I didn't see Monica, and honestly, I didn't care.

Grabbing my motorbike, thanks god that my grandfather didn't take it back from me, I headed out to the restaurant.

Once there, I changed into my uniform just in time for Mrs. Emily, the morning manager, to assign my first delivery.

The order was for Mrs. Kathryn Greenfields, a widow who lived alone in a charming house few kilometers from the Palace. She was one of our most loyal customers, ordering from us at least four times a week.

I arrived at 11:30, finding her lounging in her garden, basking in the warm sun.

She wore a revealing outfit, her aging frame unapologetically on display. She lies sprawled on a sun-worn lounge chair in the unkempt corner of her garden, the heat settling heavy over her. The short, transparent camisole she wears clings to her body in places and hangs loose in others, the fabric stretched thin and nearly slipping off. Her large breasts push against it, unsupported, barely covered, as though she hadn't noticed--or didn't care.

Her blonde hair, once likely styled with care, is tangled and wild now, falling over her face and shoulders in uneven strands. Her legs are long and bare, covered in coarse hair that glints faintly in the sunlight, her underarms the same--untouched, unapologetic, though not out of rebellion, but weariness. The black panties she wears are the only thing that seems deliberate, and even they look like an afterthought.

There's a heaviness to her expression--a blank, distant stare that drifts somewhere far from the overgrown garden. Once, her beauty might have turned heads. Now, it lingers like a faded memory beneath the lines, the tiredness in her eyes, the way her body rests as if it's given up trying. She isn't trying to be seen. In fact, she hopes no one is looking.

"Good morning, Mrs. Kathryn," I greeted her cheerfully. "Where should I put your meal?"

She raised her eyes to me and replied in her granny voice,

"How are you, boy? And how's your greedy grandfather?"

Mrs. Kathryn, like many in the city, wasn't fond of my grandfather, but unlike most, she wasn't afraid to say it.

I smiled politely. "We're both fine, Mrs. Kathryn."

She raised a bare arm, exposing her unshaven armpit, and pointed toward her house. "You know where to put it, boy."

Nodding, I carried the food into her kitchen, placed it on the counter, and grabbed her bag before returning to her.

Without a word, she handed me her credit card to pay, as usual.

Once the payment was complete, she slid the card back into her bag and fixed her green eyes on me.

"Take this back to the house, boy," she said, handing me the bag again.

As I turned to leave, she called after me,

"It's improper to walk around with that bump under your trousers, boy. You should find a solution for your daily morning boner."

Startled, I paused, glancing down at the evident bulge in my pants. Smiling, I turned back to her and asked,

"Any tips, Mrs. Kathryn, that I could use?"

Her eyes widened, clearly not expecting such a bold response. But she quickly regained her composure and replied,

"You should get some help, boy."

I stepped closer, the bulge in my trousers nearly at her eye level.

"Do you want the honest answer, Mrs. Kathryn?"

Her face flushed a deeper red as she cleared her throat.

"What honest answer?"

Staring into her green eyes, then letting my gaze drift lower to her full, ample chest, I continued,

"I suffer from this problem twice a day--once at night while browsing porn online and the second time..."

I paused deliberately, watching her expression shift as she realized where this conversation was headed. Lowering my voice, I finished,

"... when I see your nearly naked body, Kathryn."

She inhaled sharply, her face growing even redder as she cleared her throat again.

"That's bold, boy. You could get yourself fired if I told Emily."

Smiling, I turned and headed back into her house to drop off the bag. On my way out, I called over my shoulder,

"Have a nice day, Mrs. Kathryn. Don't forget my five stars!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My next stop was my grandfather's company.

Thanks to Mom, most of the employees there ordered lunch from our restaurant. This time, I used the restaurant's van, with two staff members helping me with the delivery.

Once the job was done, I decided to drop by Mom's office to say hello.

After greeting her, I ran into her secretary, Mrs. Sharon. Flashing a smile, I started casually,

"How are you, Sharon? Did you enjoy the food today?"

She's a curvy brunette with a confident air, even if she doesn't fit the typical mold of classic beauty. Her black hair, slightly tousled, falls just shy of her shoulders, framing a face that draws you in more with personality than perfection. Deep brown eyes hold a quiet intensity, and her full, sensual lips give her an edge of understated allure.

She's dressed in a sharp business outfit that fits her curves just right--a fitted blazer, a blouse with a hint of openness, and a short skirt that rides high enough to catch the eye without crossing the line. The fabric hugs her hips, hinting at the black thong beneath with the occasional subtle shift as she moves. There's something unapologetic in the way she carries herself--measured steps, a flick of her hair, a glance that says she knows the power she holds, even if it's not loud or obvious.

Sharon smiled back.

"I don't have much of a choice, Chris. Your mom would get upset if I ordered from anywhere else, so I've learned to enjoy it."

Laughing at her quip, I leaned closer, lowering my voice.

"If you ever want something different, Sharon, I could smuggle in a treat for you. Just give me a call, and I'll make it happen."

As I whispered in her ear, I couldn't help but let my hard-on graze her thigh. Acting on impulse, I placed a soft kiss on her cheek and added,

"But this will be our little secret."

Without waiting for her reaction, I left a satisfied smirk on my face but refusing to look back.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I returned to the restaurant, and some deliveries were waiting for me, but before going I went to our IT and asked him if Mrs Kathryn has given me 5 stars, and he said yes.

I was pleased of what I'm doing, I was planting seeds everywhere and waiting for the harvest.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

At 6 p. m., I had my last delivery of the day, and it was, once again, to Mrs. Kathryn--a good omen, I hoped.

Being the only delivery boy on the afternoon shift was manageable in our small city; one person was more than enough to cover the work. Mrs. Emily, my manager, had already told me I could head home after delivering this final meal since my shift ended at six.

When I arrived at her house, the front door was slightly ajar. I hesitated for a moment, then called out,

"Mrs. Kathryn, are you home?"

Her heavy frame emerged from the kitchen, her slow movements deliberate, yet her green eyes glimmered with sharpness.

"I'm here, boy. Come in," she said, her voice raspy.

I stepped inside, feeling a wave of confidence wash over me. The house was dimly lit, the faint aroma of herbs and something faintly metallic lingering in the air.

I placed the package on the kitchen table, glancing at her as she settled herself into a chair by the table. Her gaze was unflinching, piercing, yet unreadable.

"Thanks for the five stars, Mrs. Kathryn," I said, forcing a smile as I looked into her deep green eyes.

She cleared her throat and nodded once, saying nothing.

Steeling myself, I stepped closer, lowering my voice as I asked,

"So, will you help me with my problem?"

Her expression flickered, but she quickly masked it. Clearing her throat again, she finally replied in a voice so low it was almost a whisper,

"What problem, boy?"

I unzipped my trousers and pulled my pantie down releasing the monster of its cage.

She inhaled when she saw my dick almost touching her face, her heartbeats were so loud that I could hear and before she could say a word, I pushed my dick between her lips.

She raised her full of lust eyes to me to me and whispered,

"This is wrong boy,"

I moved my dick around her lips so she can taste my pre-cum, her chest was rising up and down; her forehead was producing more sweat that she could get out of the morning sun.

I pulled my dick away from her lips and said,

"If you don't want it, so it is ok,"

Without hesitation she garbed my dick with her both hands and said,

"Don't you dare boy,"

She then started to lick my pre-cum from my crown, then took it inside her mouth.

The old lady seemed to have history in sucking dicks as she seemed to know what she is doing.

The heat of the moment was relentless, striking down on my head and body without mercy. I had been grappling with this unbearable erection since morning--a maddening struggle to keep myself under control and hold down my climax. It wasn't easy, but I forced myself to manage as best as I could.

But when she got my dick down her throat and her tongue twirled around my shaft I lost my control and exploded right in her throat.

"Ooooh fuck," I groaned.

Kathryn tried to swallow my entire load, but rope after rope my pudding cream started to leak out of her mouth dropping on her transparent night gown and her big saggy breasts.

I pulled my still hard on dick from her mouth, and then got dressed.

She looked at me with disappointed eyes and said,

"Are you leaving?" she asked her voice soft and uncertain.

I leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"I have to catch dinner at home," I replied, my tone light but firm. "Grandfather will be upset if I'm not there."

Her hand reached out, wrapping around my arm. There was a pleading look in her eyes as she said, almost in a whisper,

"Can you come tonight?"

I brushed a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering as I smiled.

"I'll call you, baby," I said reassuringly.

As I left her house, the cool evening air greeted me, and a wave of pride swelled in my chest. This was only the beginning--my harvest was just starting to bloom.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monica served dinner with the help of Jasmine and Lilly. She avoided my gaze for most of the evening, but when our eyes finally met, her cheeks flushed a deep red.

After dinner, as usual, Grandfather, Mom, and Aunt retreated to his home office to dive into their endless business discussions. Monica stayed behind in the kitchen, tidying up alone after Jasmine and Lilly finished their work and left at 8 p. m.

I wandered into the kitchen and casually asked Monica if she could make me a cup of coffee. She nodded without a word and disappeared. Moments later, she returned, carrying the coffee to the living room, where I was on the phone with Kathryn.

"Baby, I don't know if I can come now or not," I said, my tone teasing.

Kathryn's voice on the other end was firm, almost commanding.

"You better come, boy. You left me on fire, and you need to do something about it."

Monica couldn't hear her words, so I chuckled and repeated them aloud, twisting them into a playful joke.

"If you're on fire, baby, maybe you should call a fireman!" I smirked, although I knew it was a silly joke, but the remark wasn't meant for Kathryn but to needle Monica.

Monica placed the cup of coffee on the table and turned to leave.

"Baby," I called after her, still speaking into the phone but letting the words hang in the air,

"I might meet a friend of mine tonight, but it's not confirmed yet. If they say yes, I won't be able to come. But if they don't respond..." I let the sentence dangle, my eyes fixed on Monica as she lingered by the door, seemingly debating something internally.

Before she could act, I added,

"You know what? I'll come to you now. I don't like people who hesitate. Open the door, baby--I'm coming."

Monica froze, her chest rising and falling as she drew a deep breath. Without a word, she spun on her heels and dashed out of the room, leaving me alone with a satisfied grin.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At 9 p. m., I arrived at Kathryn's doorstep. The door was slightly ajar, as it often was, and I stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

Kathryn was seated in her living room, as if anticipating my arrival. She wore a striking red ensemble, the fabric sheer and alluring revealed of her big saggy breasts and her hairy cunt.

As soon as I stepped inside, Kathryn rose to her feet and wrapped her heavy arms around me, pulling me into a long, passionate embrace. Her voice trembled slightly as she murmured,

"Chris, please don't do that to me. Don't leave me alone with the anticipation."

I silenced her softly, leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, lingering kiss. Her full, sensual lips responded eagerly, matching my intensity, while her arms tightened around me, drawing me even closer

I broke the kiss then took off my T-shirt and my shorts and standing naked infront of her and said,

"Gat naked baby I want to enjoy watching your naked body,"

Her face got red and her breaths got higher while she was taking of her brief lingerie.

I wasn't a good lover, it was my first time to see a naked woman, but I tried to recall all my previous information that I got from watching porno.

I Know it will be hard for me to control myself, but luckily I can reload in a heartbeat.

"Sit down on the chair baby," I whispered

She turned and walk slowly to the chair swinging her big ass checks.

She sat down slowly don't know it that because of her age or to seduce me.

"Spread your legs baby,"

Her face got more blushed, but she did, showing her vagina lips.

I got on my knees between her thighs then buried my face between her legs, getting drunk of her vagina stinky sugar smell.

She inhaled deeply once my mouth touches her vagina lips.

I raised my eyes to her to see if she is having pleasure, but the old woman was in another world.

I whispered while licking her pussy slowly,

"Baby, you made me so happy this afternoon and I need to return the favor, can you guide me to your pleasuring spot till I get used of your body,"

She inhaled when she heard my words and her body shook suddenly and a gush of her juice just attacked my face.

Her body was quacking while she was getting her first orgasm of this night, I was happy about that although I wasn't sure what I did exactly causing her this orgasm.

After her orgasm faded, she said between her high breaths,

"Do what ever you want baby, I was neglected for too much time, any touch from you anywhere on my body will bring it to life again."

That wasn't much help. I had hoped she would guide me, to teach me how to truly please a woman. But instead, I realized I would have to figure it out on my own.

I buried my face again between her legs and started to suck her pussy, I collected my courage and pushed slowly one of my fingers in her pussy, while my tongue was licking her clit.

She responded her approval with a soft scream, so I pushed another finger, and her breaths were getting higher and higher.

I used my knuckles as I watched in porno to reach her G-spot while still licking her clit, and her legs got stiffed immediately, and her soft screams got higher while saying,

"Not there please, not there, I'm losing control, ouuufff,"

I didn't understand if she doesn't want that or not, but anyway I kept pushing my two fingers inside her pussy rubbing her G-spot while licking her clit.

Her legs trembled, and with both hands, she reached for my head, pulling it closer to her pussy and her screams were louder while saying,

"Ohhh fuck, Ouufff, I'm cuming, take care, I'm cuming, ooooouf,"

And suddenly my face got drenched of her next orgasm; her pussy seemed like a fountain sprinkling water everywhere.

Her juice drenched my face, my body, the chair with the remainder pooling on the floor beneath us.

She let out a scream, her body trembling uncontrollably on the chair as she gasped for breath, each quiver a testament to the intensity of the moment.

After her orgasm faded away she raised her face to me and said,

"I'm sorry baby, I tried to warn you,"

I inserted two fingers in her pussy then took them to her mouth allowing her to taste herself,

She inhaled when my fingers got in her mouth and she sucked them.

She said between her breaths,

"Where did you learn that naughty boy?"

I collected my courage feeling more and more confident.

"I just try to satisfy my tonight bitch,"

She inhaled again and cleared her throat when I called her a bitch but before she could say any word I pushed my dick in her mouth.

She took it between her lips, and showered it with her saliva, and began to enjoy sucking it.

But actually I was so horny and my dick was more than ready, So I decided to move to get my dreams come true, To real fucking.

I pulled out my dick then said,

"Show me your bed room bitch,"

She inhaled again then grabbed my dick and headed to her bed room.

"Lie down and spread your legs,"

I said once we are at her bed room, I cannot wait till I feel a woman vagina.

She slept on her back on her king size bed and opened her legs waiting for me.

I got on the bed placing my body between her legs pointed my dick to her cunt then slowly pushed my dick inside her.

"Ouuufff, take it easy with my neglected pussy baby, please,"

I didn't even understand what she was talking about; I want to fuck her, no matter what she considered easy or not.

I pushed another inch or two inside her, and her moans got higher.

I held her hips and pushed more of my dick inside her wet hot pussy, it was a marvelous feeling that I wanted to stay like that for ever,

"Ohhh baby, it is big and thick, please show merci to my old neglected pussy,"

Her naughty talks were driving me crazy, so I started to push more inside her, then faster, more and faster, till my entire dick was inside her cunt.

"Ouuuf, I'm cumming baby, ouuufff, fuck me harder,"

I felt her pussy showering my dick while her hands were clutching the bed sheets, and her legs were so stiff.

I couldn't resist more so I exploded my load inside her.

"Ohhh fuck" I groaned.

My words mixed with her screams,

"Ohhh Baby, ouffff, I'm cumming,"

I kept pushing more and more till my orgasm was faded away.

I pulled out my dick out of her cunt then straddled her chest and pushed it in her mouth and said,

"Suck it clean bitch,"

She took it in her mouth and took each drop of my cum in her mouth.

I was taken in pleasure that I didn't notice that I was hardly breathing, so I relaxed my body giving myself time to regain my power.

She looked at me with wide smile on her face and said with devilish smile,

"Second round?"

I stood on my feet and said,

Get on your knees,"

She got on her knees at the bed edge in a heartbeat.

I grabbed her body for her hips then pushed my dick in her cunt.

I didn't do it slowly or softly, I just pushed my full length inside her.

She screamed saying,

"OOOOOH fuck,"

I didn't care about her objection and started to move inside her pussy harder and faster.

Her head collapsed on the bed, she reached for a pillow and started to bite it while her hands were stretched on the bed clutching the bed sheets.

I was watching her suffering of my aggressive fuck and listening to her muffled moans from another world, I was totally lost in my own pleasure, the heat is burning inside my body, the room smell of sex and her muffled moans were turning me wilder, but for my surprise I had no urge to cum.

I didn't know if she was cuming or not, all what I knew was that my dick was moving inside her hot pussy nice and easy, and my ball sacks were drenched in juice.

Finally she brought me back to reality when she moved the pillow from her mouth and screamed,

"OOOOH FUCK, Chris please cum, I can't take it anymore, ouuuffff, you destroyed my pussy, cuuuuum please,"

Her nasty desperate talk brought me to reality but yet I had no urge for cuming.

I took out my dick suddenly from her pussy, and she screamed loudly feeling empty and collapsed on her belly.

I grabbed her ankles and turned her body to lie her down on her back, then shoved my dick again in her pussy,

"Holly shit, ouuuuff," she purred.

I raised her thighs and pushed them back so her knees were beside her big tits, then pushed my dick more inside her, using my body to push more and more.

Her eyes were full of tears, her face was as read as an apple, her heart beats were clearly heard, and her sweat was dripping like rain from all her body.

I moved my body up and down pushing my dick deeper in her cunt, moving faster and harder, trying to reach my orgasm witch was building up in my body.

My breaths getting higher my sweat mixed with her sweats, her high screams filled the room, and suddenly my dick exploded his pudding cream.

"Ooooh Fuck," I groaned, while my dick was sprinkling his cum deep inside her pussy and leaking out of it mixed with her own juice.

I kept pushing inside her till my orgasm faded away.

I pulled my dick out of her cunt and my cum followed it wetting her thighs and her bed sheets.

She collected all her power and said,

"Fuck you Chris you destroyed me," And then, as if overwhelmed by the sheer intensity, her body went limp, and she collapsed into a coma-like state.

I sat on the bed looking at the poor naked woman, trying to get my breath back.

I walked to her wash room took a brief shower, then got dressed.

I settled her body on her bed, covered her then turned the light off and left.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time I got home, it was almost midnight. The living room was quiet; Grandfather and Aunt were nowhere to be seen. Only Mom was there, and the moment she spotted me, her concern poured out.

"Chris, where have you been? I called you several times, but your phone was off," she said, her voice tight with worry.

I was too exhausted to engage in a lengthy conversation, but this was Mom--the kindest person in the world. She deserved an answer.

"Sorry, Mom," I said, mustering as much sincerity as I could. "My battery died. I didn't mean to make you worry."

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a warm hug.

Her voice cracked as she murmured,

"Baby, don't do that to me again. Please."

Pulling back slightly, she studied me for a moment and asked,

"Have you just gotten out of the shower?"

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. I hadn't expected her to notice, much less comment, but thankfully, she didn't press further. Instead, she gave a small nod and said,

"Okay, now I understand."

After a brief pause, she released me and added,

"Go to bed. You must be exhausted by now."

I lowered my head, avoiding her gaze, and headed toward my room. But as I reached the edge of the living room, I caught a glimpse of Monica standing in the kitchen doorway.

Had she been listening to my conversation with Mom?

I hoped so.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I took off my clothes and lay down naked in my bed; my dick was lying on my thigh, for the first time since ages

I was so exhausted damn, I didn't know that fucking is taking that efforts

I was recalling the day with big smile on my face, I finally got my first fuck and my first,,,,

A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in," I called out.

The door opened, and Monica stepped into the room quickly, closing it behind her. She froze for a moment when her eyes met mine, then gasped and turned her face away.

"You should've warned me that you weren't decent, Chris," she said, her voice flustered. "Please, take some cover."

I shrugged off her comment, remaining relaxed as I replied,

"How can I help you, Mrs. Monica?"

I spoke while casually stroking my dick with my right hand, my tone intentionally calm.

Monica didn't turn to face me. Instead, she stammered,

"I was... I was thinking you might... well, you might need a snack before bed."

I smirked, enjoying the way she stumbled over her words. I decided to tease her further and replied casually,

"Thank you, Mrs. Monica, but I've had enough snacks for tonight."

She turned her face slightly and gasped again when she saw me stroking my dick, and said between her high breaths,

"You don't want anything from me?" her eyes were hanging on my dick.

I smiled at her and said,

"No, Mrs. Monica, thank you."

She bit her lower lip, her face tinged with uncertainty, before lowering her gaze. Without another word, she turned and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning my breakfast was made by Monica, no more Lilly or Jasmine,

She stood silently beside me as I ate, her presence unmissable.

When I glanced up and caught her gaze, I said,

"The breakfast is delicious, Mrs. Monica. Thank you."

A soft smile crossed her face.

"Do you need anything else from me, Chris?" she asked.

I shook my head and continued with my meal. As she turned to leave the room, I called after her,

"Mrs. Monica."

She stopped and turned back to face me. I smiled warmly.

"Could you be so kind as to send Jasmine to me, please?"

Her expression flickered for a moment as she bit her lower lip, then she nodded and left the room.

A minute later, Jasmine walked in, her usual cheerful smile lighting up the room.

"You wanted to see me, Chris?"

I gestured to the chair beside me and said,

"Yeah, I just need to ask you a few questions. Can I?"

She was a 30-year-old brunette with a radiant, cheerful presence that lights up any room. Standing at 170 cm with a slender yet shapely figure, she carries herself with a graceful ease. Her long legs give her a natural elegance, and at 60 kg, her frame is balanced and toned.

Her brown hair cascades just past her shoulders in soft waves, complementing her warm brown eyes that sparkle with curiosity and playfulness.

Her skin is smooth and soft, glowing with health, and her face--beautiful and expressive--holds the kind of smile that makes people feel instantly at ease.

She wears a tiny blouse that playfully reveals a hint of her firm curves, paired with a short skirt that flatters her figure without trying too hard.

The outfit matches her energy--youthful, confident, and full of life. There's something magnetic in the way she laughs, in the way she moves--effortless, self-assured, and wonderfully alive.

She sat gracefully on the chair, her brown eyes locking onto mine as she said with a soft smile,

"Of course, Chris, anytime."

I shifted in my seat, turning toward her, trying to project an air of shyness. Lowering my gaze, I avoided her eyes, though I couldn't help but notice her long, elegantly shaved legs. I began hesitantly,

"Well, you've been working here for ten years, Jasmine. I've known you since I was a kid, so... you're like family to me, right?"

Jasmine smiled warmly, her lips curving with a sensual charm as her perfectly white teeth caught the light. She placed her hand gently on mine and said,

"Chris, you can ask me anything."

I took a deep breath, feigning nervousness as I tried to gather my courage.

"Okay, well... I hope you don't think I'm prying. It's just... at my age, I've got a lot of questions about life, you know?"

She interrupted me gently, her voice calm and understanding.

"Chris, as you said, we're family. You can speak freely. Go on."

Encouraged by her words, I took another breath, clearing my throat.

"You've been married for eight years now, right?"

She nodded.

"And you have two daughters, correct?"

Another nod.

Lowering my face again, I asked quietly,

"I've just been wondering... how does it feel? Marriage, I mean, after eight years or more?"

Her expression shifted slightly, her brow furrowing in thought as she replied,

"I'm not sure what you mean exactly, Chris."

I hesitated, leaning in slightly so that our knees brushed. The small contact sent a shiver through me, but I kept my tone steady.

"Promise me you won't take this the wrong way?"

She smiled, intertwining her fingers with mine reassuringly.

"I promise."

Encouraged, I came closer, my voice dropping to a whisper.

"At my age, you know... all we think about is, well, you know what I mean."

Her smile deepened, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she said bluntly,

"You mean sex, right?"

Relieved by her candor, I let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah."

Clearing my throat again, I continued,

"So, when I imagine being married to someone I love... it's like I picture us never leaving the bedroom. You know, being together all the time, doing... that. Is that what it's really like?"

Jasmine chuckled, holding my hand with a tenderness that felt almost maternal. Her voice softened as she said,

"Chris, we all thought that at your age. But life doesn't always work that way."

I squeezed her hand gently, leaning closer, my curiosity insistent.

"Why not?"

She sighed deeply, her gaze growing distant as if searching for an answer within herself. After a moment, she said thoughtfully,

"It's hard to explain. Maybe it's because the 'honeymoon phase' fades. Maybe it's the responsibilities, the routine... so many things can change the dynamic."

I pressed further, my voice soft but earnest.

"Did that happen to you, too?"

Realizing how bold my question sounded, I quickly gasped and pulled back slightly.

"I'm so sorry, Jasmine. That was inappropriate. I didn't mean to--"

She cut me off with a gentle squeeze of my hands, her lips curling into a shy smile as she reassured me.

"It's okay, Chris. Really, don't worry."

Relieved, I smiled brightly, raising her hands to my lips and kissing them lightly.

"Thank you, Jasmine. Really."

She cleared her throat, and I noticed a faint flush creeping up her neck.

Her breaths quickened slightly, and for a moment, I could see her vulnerability. Then she answered,

"Yes, Chris. It happened to me too."

I leaned back, my eyes wide with astonishment.

"You too? I... I can't believe that."

She lowered her gaze, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Why not, Chris?" she said softly. "I've been married for eight years. I'm a working mom with two daughters, and when I get home, all I can think about are my kids--and how to get enough sleep."

I tightened my grip on her hands, leaning in slightly. My knees brushed against hers under the table, but she didn't seem to notice--or maybe she didn't mind. Clearing my throat, I mustered the courage to speak.

"I can't imagine that happening to you, Jasmine," I said gently. "And, honestly, if I were your husband, I don't think I'd let a single night go by without holding you close."

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and her eyes widened in surprise. Realizing I might have gone too far, I quickly gasped and added,

"Oh, I'm sorry, Jasmine. Sometimes I just... I just say the wrong thing. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

She cleared her throat, trying to regain composure, and replied with a soft smile,

"It's alright, Chris."

Reaching across the table, she held my hands in hers, her touch warm and comforting. "Now, tell me," she teased, her bright smile returning.

"What's this all about? What secrets are you hiding, you little devil?"

Her playful tone caught me off guard, but I forced a smile and ignored the comment.

"Can you keep a secret?" I asked.

She raised a finger to her lips, pretending to zip her mouth shut.

"You have my word," she said, grinning.

I hesitated, then began.

"You know I work in delivery. And, well, while I'm out delivering meals, I meet a lot of women. Many of them are married, but... sometimes... things happen."

Her eyes widened, and she burst into laughter.

"Wait--you're saying married women... are hitting on you?"

I leaned forward, placing a finger to her lips, pretending to scold her.

"Shh, Jasmine. You promised to keep my secret!"

She covered her mouth, still laughing, and said,

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry! But seriously, what do you do about it?"

I gave her a look of mock disapproval, then sighed.

"Well, most of the time, I politely decline. But..." I hesitated, lowering my gaze as I held her hands a little tighter.

"Some offers are... harder to turn down."

Her laughter faded, and she inhaled deeply, her expression growing serious.

"But that's wrong, Chris," she said quietly.

"I know," I murmured, staring down at her hands as I gently rubbed them between mine. My knees brushed closer to hers under the table, the tension between us thickening.

"But in the moment, it felt... it felt like the right thing to do."

She held my hands more firmly now, her own fingers tracing over mine.

"And these women," she asked softly, her voice tinged with curiosity,

"did they feel guilty afterward?"

I raised my eyes to meet hers, drawn into the warmth of her brown gaze.

"Guilty?" I repeated. "No. If anything, they wanted more."

Her body leaned slightly closer, her voice almost a whisper.

"They don't feel guilty about cheating on their husbands? That's... strange."

I kept my eyes locked on hers as I replied.

"It's like the pleasure they felt... overwhelmed their common sense."

Her eyes widened further, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. She looked utterly absorbed in the conversation as I continued.

"One of them told me she'd never felt like that before. Another said she woke up the next day feeling like she'd been crushed by a bus. It's... intense."

Jasmine's curiosity was evident, but I decided to stop. Pulling my hands from hers, I stood up and said,

"Thank you for listening, Jasmine. I hope we can continue this conversation soon, but I should get to work."

Disappointment flickered in her eyes as she stood reluctantly.

"Anytime, Chris," she said, her voice soft. "And... thank you for confiding in me."

I stepped toward her, taking her hands in mine once more and holding them tightly. "Thank you for listening," I said, meeting her gaze. "I hope we can get closer soon."

Before she could respond, I pulled her gently into an embrace, my lips brushing her cheek in a lingering kiss. Then, with a final smile, I turned and left for work.