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Nostalgia

Nostalgia

Whispers breeze

fluttering by,

satin lies told

when young and

one unforgettable night

of magical discovery

that’s still a treasured memory

What position does she like? What would her ass be like to hold in my hands? How would it be to hold and suck those big tits? I used to dream about what it would be like to fuck her all the time. I’m not talking about some young cute girl in High School. No, I’m talking about my best friend’s mom. I seriously doubted she would be interested, after all in the summer of ’56, I was nothing but a horny teenager.

Like most mom’s she was a housewife, or ‘homemaker’ as we are forced to call it nowadays. Of course most moms were back then. I recall she was forever baking the most gorgeous cakes. The kitchen was perma-infused with the sweet smells of vanilla essence, icing and chocolate. Even now if I go into a bake shop I am reminded of her kitchen. I recall she was very proud of her pink SMEG refrigerator; this was in the days when most refrigerators were all plain white, but she wanted to buck the trend, so she convinced her husband to pay extra for pink. I can even remember the day it was delivered. Funny the things that stay in your mind.

I never saw my friend’s Dad much. He was a long haul truck driver, and that meant long days away from home. That didn’t trouble me any, it was good to have him out of the way so I could ogle his delicious wife.

But I recall that summer he had some days off, and he wanted some father/son bonding time with Pete or Zippo as I used to call him, because he had a Zippo lighter and we used to experiment with things we could set light to. He had arranged for him and Zippo to go on a camping trip. I had wanted to go, but Zippo said it had to be just him and his Dad.

It turned out to be for the best because later that evening the phone rang. It was Sarah, Zippo’s mom. She said she was sorry to bother me but she had a little problem. She couldn't get her fridge light to come on. She wanted to know if I could come over to look at it. I hesitated only for a moment then said I would be right over. I felt a little nervous because I knew I would be alone with her.

When I got round to her house the door was already left ajar for me to come in. There was nothing unusual about this, when Zippo was around we were constantly in and out of each other’s homes. What was unusual though was where I found Zippo’s mom. She wasn’t fussing over the fridge light like I thought she would be. Not at all, she was sitting on her cooker, next to her fridge with a freshly baked cake. Boy oh boy, it was a sight for sore eyes, because she was sitting cross legged on the cooker with her skirt swept back to reveal her gorgeous stocking tops and a garter belt! She was wearing a tight bustier which emphasised her large breasts. I immediately felt my cock start to rise in my pants.

She scooped a bit of chocolate icing from a freshly baked cake and sucked her finger. She wasn’t acting like Zippo’s mom normally acted, I had never seen her so playful.

She asked would I like some cake and a glass of milk before turning in for the night. She said she was all alone and wanted someone to talk to for a while. I said ‘sure’ and all kinds of fantasies were playing out in my head.

“What about the refrigerator light, Mrs Benson?” I asked politely, but all the while I could not take my eyes off her stockinged thighs.

She laughed a coquettish laugh and said “Actually, it’s fine, I just needed an excuse to get you over here to sample my cake.”

She stepped down from the cooker and brought some milk out of the fridge. She was right, the light was working just fine.

Elvis Presley’s new hit ‘Hound dog’ was playing on the radio and Mrs Benson was dancing to it as she poured the milk. “I just love Elvis don’t you?” she said. I told her I did, but what I really liked was her big breasts heaving at the fancy bustier she was wearing. The cake and milk were going down a treat, but I was still nervous as hell. Where was all this leading?

I was glad when she suggested we go sit on the couch. As she stood up it became obvious her skirt was a translucent wispy taffeta creation and I could see her stocking tops and her delightful round ass as I walked behind her carrying my milk to the couch. As I sat down my cock rose high and I hoped it wasn't too obvious.

I wasn't too sure how to proceed. In fact, who am I kidding, I was a rebel without a clue. I just kept sipping at my milk staring at the wall. But she seemed very at ease. She asked if I wanted more milk, but I was too nervous to take another sip. I couldn't believe this was happening. The woman of all my jerk-off dreams was sitting next to me with her stockings and garter belt showing, and her breasts barely contained by the bustier. We talked and laughed some more and she placed her hand on my thigh, but instead of a quick touch she left it there. Should I make a move? The signs were obvious, but this was my friend's mom for God’s sake. I was paralyzed by fear and yet aching with lust.

With iron discipline I decided I better do the smart and sensible thing, which was to thank her for the milk and cake and head home. I turned to her to try to say something but as I opened my mouth to try to speak, she moved in and placed her lips to mine kissing me deeply. Our tongues danced and I pulled her close. Her big breasts pressed against me and I could feel the hard nipples poking me. She moved her hand around until she found my rock hard teenage cock and squeezed it.

I guess you could say I had scored.

After some intense kissing I remembered her lacquered hair was becoming a little messed up from my running my hands through it. Having now set things in motion, I knew exactly how I wanted to proceed. My long contained lusts drove me to do what I had to do. I started to unclip the bustier at the back, and sure enough those big, hefty breasts tumbled out. I kissed them both, going from one to the other sucking them as she stroked my head. Soon, I was in need of exploring further, and I knelt down in front of the couch and my hands roamed up past the stocking tops to get to her panties, pink of course, her favourite color.

I eased those panties down her soft thighs and I saw she had a good old fashioned furry bush. Shaving down there just wasn’t done in those days. I wrapped her legs in my arms and pulled her forward on the couch so that her pussy was right at my face and I kissed and teased her. I held one heavy breast in my hand as I continued to suck and she groaned, opening her legs wider and squirming delightfully as I spelt out the letters of the alphabet with my tongue on her wet pussy. I remember as I went about my work Frank Sinatra was playing on the radio, and I was thinking how appropriate the song was – ‘I’ve got you under my skin.’

Then it was my turn. I stood up and she unzipped my jeans and took my hard cock out of my shorts. She stroked my cock then she leaned forward and placed it to her lips. She gently sucked half of it into her mouth. I looked down and had to practically pinch myself. My best friend’s mom was sucking my cock. And she knew how to suck that thing! Small strokes around the head, then deep strokes in out and out in a rhythm that sent me crazy. I couldn’t hold it back and she expertly pulled my cock out of her mouth as I exploded over her face and onto the couch. It was mind blowing.

Like I say, I was a teenager back then, and fresh hard-ons came as easy as blinking. I got hard again by rubbing my cock between those heavy breasts, with her sucking the head as it reached her mouth.

Then I knelt down beside the couch again, wrapped her legs around me once more and this time, after a couple of introductory rubs, pushed my cock inside her. She gasped as the full length of it sank home and soon I was pumping, and all kinds of curse words were coming out of her mouth like I had never heard her use before, but these were hot sex curse words, she was ordering me to fuck her harder, and I was happy to oblige. I rubbed my hand over her bush and occasionally stroked her tits, which were wobbling as we fucked.

I know she had cum a few times but I hadn't and it was time to discover another long held fantasy; what she would be like to fuck from behind. I pulled out and took her by the hand and pulled her up off the couch. I bent her over the end of the couch and moved in behind that wonderful big ass. It was round and smooth without a dimple on it, perfectly framed and squeezed together by the tight back black garter belt.

She spread her legs wide for me and I repositioned my swollen cockhead at the entrance of her pussy. I pushed inside and as I pounded her from behind, her big ass jiggled. My balls were slapping against her butt cheeks. I had my hands on her hips pulling her to me on each stroke. Her big tits were swaying back and forth. This day would go down in history for me. The day I was fucking my best friend’s Mom, her beautiful ass rippling with my every stroke. I felt the surge and wondered whether to pull out, but it happened so fast, I came deep inside her as she let out a gasp. The memory after the fuck session is hazy, you have to understand, it was over 53 years ago. I remember lying in my bed that night running it over in my mind and feeling very blessed.

It was my best night ever. Of course Zippo came back the next day, and yes, it was hard to act normal in that house after what had taken place. The longing was there on both sides, that’s for sure, and on a couple of occasions we managed to sneak away to a motel on the outskirts of town and get it on all over again. But it was tricky and involved a web of satin lies to Zippo, which didn’t feel right.

By the end of the summer I knew the fantasy had been played out. It had been fantastic but I had had my fill, and thank God, Zippo never found out. We went to different colleges in the fall, inevitably we made new friends, found ourselves girlfriends, moved on, got married.

Mrs Benson has been dead these past ten years but she lived to a ripe old age. Me, I’m long retired, and as for dear Zippo, he’s gone too, from a heart attack just a couple of years after his mom passed on. But the summer of ’56, oh yes, that still burns so bright in this old man’s heart and mind.


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