The Breeding of Jill Pastrianni
Lubrican
The Breeding of Jill Pastrianni
by Robert Lubrican
Bookapy Edition
Copyright 2024 Robert Lubrican
License Notes
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Table of Contents
Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine
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Foreword
This story was inspired by a story Blackzilla wrote called Mrs. Harper's Closet. I thank him (or her or they or it or them or however that person identifies) for some good writing that sparked my imagination.
Bob
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Chapter One
When I was a month shy of my sixteenth birthday I was loafing around on my back porch when my neighbor, Mrs. Pastrianni, called across the yard and asked me to come over and help her change a light bulb in the ceiling fan in her bedroom. I had done some little odd jobs for her before. Like, I mowed her lawn and if she needed something while I was there she'd give me a glass of lemonade and ask me to do whatever it was.
I had always had the hots for Mrs. Pastrianni because she was pretty gorgeous. She was white and somewhere around thirty years old. She was tall, about my height, at five-eleven, and she had blond hair with red highlights in it. I have no idea what she weighed, but she was slim, except she had curves to die for. Her boobs looked like somebody had cut a big coconut in half and stuck a half in each side of her bra. She had hips, but her ass wasn't huge or anything. Her husband had died in Afghanistan and she didn't have any kids. My dad had told me to do whatever I could for her because she was a gold star widow and he thought people should take care of a woman like that. He went over and helped with big stuff, like when she needed a new water heater put in. She worked at a part time job and got some money from the government each month, but she didn't live flashy, or anything, so Dad tried to help her out when he could.
She had also been friendly toward us and even came over and welcomed us to the neighborhood when we moved here. We weren't used to that, because we moved here from the South. Actually, she only moved here a couple of months before we did, so we were all the new kids on the block.
Anyway, when I got to her house that day she was wearing a short white skirt and a blue halter top. It was June and starting to get hot.
"Thanks for coming over to help me out, Bobby, this won't take long," she said.
"No problem," I replied. I knew she'd offer me at least five bucks for helping her. I would have done it for free. She was a really nice lady and one of my secret fantasies.
I followed her upstairs to what must be the guest bedroom, because other than furniture, there was nothing in it. I had been in her house plenty of times, but never in any of the bedrooms. It smelled … dusty … but there was no dust anywhere, if that makes any sense to you. Mrs. Pastrianni's house was different than all the other houses in the neighborhood because the whole neighborhood used to be a wheat farm and her house had been the farm house. She had done a lot of painting on the outside and fixed the slat fence that went along the front. She had planted flowers in the gardens and it was a neat looking place.
There was a six foot stepladder beside the bed. The ceiling fan was half over the bed and half over the floor. As I looked at it, I got this image in my head of her lying on the bed, trying to cool off under that fan. She was naked in this vision and I felt my cock move. I pushed that thought out of my head and thought about cleaning the underside of my mower.
"I can't stand on the bed to change the bulb," she said, "because I'd have to stand on the edge, and it would crush and dump me off. And the ladder is too far to one side, and I have to lean a lot to get to the bulb, so I need you to hold the ladder so it doesn't tip over."
I don't know why I didn't suggest moving the bed so the ladder could be directly under the fan. Actually, I do know. I didn't think about that. Whenever I was around Mrs. Pastrianni my brain was kind of jumpy, or something.
"Why don't I just climb up and do it?" I asked. "I have long arms."
"Thank you, but if you fell and got hurt I'd never forgive myself," she said. "I'll do it. You just hold the ladder steady."
"Got it," I said.
Now, she lived in an old house that had high ceilings. It was probably built in the twenties because it had to be at least seventy years old. It was well kept up, but everything in it was old fashioned. Like the high ceiling with the fan hanging up there. That fan was ten feet off the floor, and her step ladder was barely going to let her reach it. She had pretty long arms, though, but when she got up there and reached, one of her feet came off the step and stuck out to one side for balance.
That was when I found out Mrs. Pastrianni was not wearing any panties. Her pussy was wide open, with her leg out like that. She had curly hair that was red, with blond highlights in it, the opposite of her head hair. Her skirt didn't stop the light and I could see clearly. I could even see two fat, pink lips in all that hair.
I froze, except for the muscles in my throat, which gulped, and the muscle between my legs, which kept getting harder.
In my peripheral vision I saw the bulb come out of the socket and her leg swung back in to cut off my view. She looked down and saw me, slack-jawed, with a little drool running down out of the right side of my mouth.
"What are you looking at?" she asked. Then I saw comprehension flood her face. "You were looking up my skirt!"
She started down the ladder, which gave me glimpses of Nirvana, but she wasn't happy when she got to the bottom.
"You were staring up my skirt!" she said again. Then her eyes went out of focus, kind of and I saw her figure it out.
Her hand went to her groin and she moaned, "I forgot to put on my panties!"
"I'm sorry!" I barked. This was my go-to response for any situation I found myself in when any of the women in my family were unhappy with me. Sometimes I said I was sorry for something I had no idea I should apologize for. Once in a while I had expressed remorse for something I didn't even do.
She stopped feeling sorry for herself (or maybe guilty?) and looked at me.
"No you're not, young man. I'm going to have a word with your mother!"
I felt panic seize my heart and grip it like my dad gripped other men's hands when they shook hands. He had taught me that grip.
"Please, no," I moaned. I knew my mother would tan my hide. "Getting along with white people" was big on her list of things we had to do. We had moved here from the south and things were a lot better, here, but there weren't all that many black folks who lived in town, so we were told to represent our race well. Peeking under a white woman's skirt (or any woman's skirt) would be considered an infraction that required severe punishment. "My mom will kill me!"
"As she should," grumbled Mrs. Pastrianni. Her glance fell to the front of my cargo shorts. I knew what she was seeing before I looked down. Somebody had taken another half of a coconut and stuffed it in my pants. "And what is that?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. She pointed at my pants, under which my penis was not behaving itself. I noticed her fingernail had a tiny palm tree painted on it. You notice the oddest things when you are in mortal danger.
"Nothing!" I gasped. "There's nothing there!" I said this like I was using The Force, telling her the droid she was looking for was not in my pants.
"That is not nothing, Bobby Richards! Do you have an erection?"
"I'm soreeee," I whined. "I didn't do it on purpose. It just happened! Honest!"
"Riiiiight," she said, sarcasm dripping from her mouth. "You looked up my skirt and saw something you weren't supposed to look at and now you have an erection. I'm sure it was all just a misunderstanding."
All of a sudden I realized she wasn't screaming at me. Nor had she called my mother. In fact, her anger seemed off, somehow. For the first time I thought about how she could have gotten dressed and forgot to put her panties on. Didn't a woman put her panties on first, and then her skirt or whatever? That confused me, because something just seemed … off. All I could think of was trying to keep pleading my innocence.
"It is a misunderstanding!" I yipped. "I really didn't see anything! The light was in my eyes!"
She stared at me and tilted her head, like she was examining a bug and trying to figure out what kind it was.
"I know you're lying, young man, tell me the truth," she said.
I knew I was fucked. About two weeks before, my mother had caught me looking up my older sister's dress when she was lying on the couch sleeping. She'd told me if I ever did that again she was going to give me a beating that I would never forget.
"Please Mrs. Pastrianni don't tell my mother, I'm very sorry. It wasn't my fault. I couldn't help it. It's not my fault you forgot to put on your panties."
She replied, "That's no excuse. Even though I forgot to put on my panties, you should have at least shown me some respect and not looked up."
"I couldn't help it," I moaned. "Once I realized you didn't have panties on I froze solid. It was so … Please, I didn't do it on purpose I'll do whatever you want me to do to make things right, I'll cut your grass for free all summer."
Then she stepped back and said, "You said when you saw me it was so … and then you changed the subject. What didn't you say?"
"I don't remember," I moaned.
"Yes you do. You looked at me and thought it looked what?"
Sometimes the truth will get you some mitigation, so I just told her the truth.
"It was really beautiful," I sighed.
"What?"
"It was so pretty I couldn't stop looking," I said. I was begging now, and we both knew it.
"Is that the truth, Bobby?" she asked. Her voice wasn't angry, but the way she said that made it sound like my answer might be the most important one of the day.
"Yes, Ma'am," I said. My voice was barely above a whisper.
The front of my pants was still bulging out. I was really embarrassed. I just stood there. It was quiet in the room for a moment. I was fully cognizant of the fact that I was black and she was white, and something had happened that could have been really bad, back where we came from. I had heard all the stories. My parents educated both my sister and me about lynchings, and why they had happened. That kind of thing didn't happen anymore, but if she made a formal complaint I knew the reaction would be super negative.
"I'm sorry," I said, one more time.
The pause extended, and then she said, "Okay Bobby, I'm not going to tell your mother this time."
I was finally able to take a breath of relief. 'I guess I'll be cutting her grass for free this summer,' I thought.
Then she said, "But I am going to have to teach you a lesson young man."
Oh shit! What the hell is she talking about?
"I'm going to teach you a lesson about sneaking peaks at women's privates. I want you to take your shorts off right now."
I was stunned, did she just say what I thought she said?
"But Mrs. Pastrianni..."
But before I could say another word she said, "No buts young man, you get those pants off right now or I'm going over to tell Gina that you're a little pervert!" Gina was my mother and I was more afraid of my mother then I was of Mrs. Pastrianni, so I slowly pulled my pants down. Mrs. Pastrianni stepped back a few steps and folded her arms watching.
After I pushed my pants to the ground, I stood straight up with my hands in front of my crotch trying to hide my still stiff cock.
Then she said, "the underwear too!"
"But Mrs. Pastrianni..." I said.
An angry look came across her face, "I didn't have any underwear on, and you looked at me! Come on young man I don't have all day," she said.
Out of fear I slowly pulled my underwear to my ankles and stood there with my hands over my now naked crotch.
She said sternly, "Move your hands away so I can see."
With no fight left in me, I moved my hands to my sides and my fully hard black cock was pointing straight at her. Her eyes locked onto it. I felt my body getting really hot all over. She just looked intently at my dick.
Now instead of being scared, I was even more aroused then before. My cock seemed to have a mind of its own, it started to pulse, and move all by itself.
Mrs. Pastrianni said, "Why is your penis moving around like that, boy?"
"It does that all the time," I mumbled.
Then she said in a much softer tone, "I'm a little astonished at your size. You sure do have a big one for a boy your age."
I kind of felt the attitude in the room change. Then she walked over to me and said, "Did looking up my skirt cause you to get like this, Bobby?"
I said, "I can't help it, my umm ... thing gets hard all the time." With that I felt her hand wrap around the shaft of my cock. A soft moan escaped my lips. It was so completely strange to have this happen. For the first time in my life, someone else was touching me.
In what seemed like a few seconds the whole situation had changed. Mrs. Pastrianni slowly moved her hand back and forth; ever so gently making my foreskin thin and disappear, before it covered the head of my bone, again.
I looked up at her and then she said, "Good grief, Bobby. I haven't felt one of these for years. It's so hard. Does it hurt?"
"Yes ma'am. A little," I croaked.
Then she said, "Do you like it when I rub it?"
"Yes ma'am."
Her hand was so soft, much softer than my own. Then she said in a very sexy voice, "That's what you get when you look up an old lady's skirt young man," as she continued to stroke my cock.
"You're not old," I said, by reflex.
"Oh, really?"
"Heck no. Mrs. Paulson, down the street is old, but not you." Mrs. Paulson was in her sixties.
"Hmm," she said. Mrs. Pastrianni then asked me, "Do you jerk off Bobby?"
How the heck had things changed to this? She obviously wasn't mad, anymore. I had never had such a strange conversation.
"Yes ma'am," was all that could come out of my mouth. I was totally lost, I started sweating. It felt like it was 110 degrees in that bedroom. I just closed my eyes and put one hand on the ladder to keep from tipping over like a falling tree while she stroked my cock.
Then I felt something warm and wet engulf my dick. I looked down and Mrs. Pastrianni was kneeling in front of me and sucking on my cock! It was impossible! Her mouth was warm and wet and I could see my black cock sliding in and out between her pink lips. I would have shot off except I was paralyzed.
After a while she pulled my cock out of her mouth and asked, "Do you like that, you nasty young man?"
At this point I could only tell the truth.
"Oh yes Mrs. Pastrianni, that feels really good."
"Has any girl ever done it to you before?"
"No, Ma'am," I panted.
She then licked the shaft of my cock and started to tickle my balls with her wet tongue. I could hear the slurping sounds that her mouth made as she sucked my black cock. I was in ecstasy. I knew I wouldn't last much longer.
I guess she felt the same way because she started really sucking my cock a lot faster. I put my hands on the sides of her face and started to hump her face. The sound of her moaning with my cock in her mouth, and the slurping sounds of her saliva coating my thrusting dick sent me over the edge.
"Mrs. Pastrianni I'm cumming!" I shouted.
She grabbed my ass and pulled me deeper into her throat. My cock exploded sending a big thick blast down her throat, ropes of hot cum shot out of my dick. It felt like I would never stop cumming. I shot so much cum into her mouth that it started to overflow and run down her cheek, it was thick and heavy looking. Big goops of cum were leaking out of her mouth and landing on her skin just above her cleavage. It started to drip down between her breasts. It was really cool to watch, but at the same time I felt like I had left my body and was watching all this from above.
It took me a moment to catch my breath. My cock was all shiny, cum still slowly oozing out of the head. Mrs. Pastrianni continued to kiss and lick the tip. She'd squeeze my cock and when a dollop of white came out she'd lick or suck it in. She looked like she was eating a black licorice ice cream treat. Her pink lips moved all over my black cock and it just looked crazy.
"Well!" she said. "I did not expect to have that much fun today. Did you like that Bobby?" she asked.
"Oh yes Mrs. Pastrianni, that was great, thank you so much."
Then she said, "Damn, Bobby, you're still hard as steel!"
"I'm sorry Mrs. Pastrianni, I can't help it, you're such a beautiful woman." Then I said, "You're the best looking woman on the block. I've always gotten excited whenever I see you."
She replied in a soft voice, "You're just saying that Bobby, I'm old and used up. There are a lot of pretty girls around here."
I said, "You've always been so nice to me Mrs. Pastrianni. When we first moved into the neighborhood, the other white people wouldn't even talk to us. You're the first white person to accept my family into the neighborhood. And I'd much rather be with a woman who looks like you than some dumb girl."
She started stroking my cock again, and then she looked at me and said, "I always knew you liked me Bobby, I could always tell by the bulge in your pants."
It took me a moment to realize what she just said. I thought to myself, 'She set me up, she knew she wasn't wearing any panties when she went up that ladder. Mrs. Pastrianni set me up big time.' The thought of this woman going through all this careful planning to seduce me, energized me even more.
"Bobby come here and get on the bed."
I took a few steps forward and lay down on my back, right there in the middle of the bed. I didn't care anymore about anything. Mrs. Pastrianni could do whatever she wanted to me. My cock was sticking stiffly out into the air. I couldn't wait to see what she would do next.
She started pulling my pants completely off. Then she climbed up on the bed, straddled me, and crumpled up her skirt around her waist. There was that delicious looking pussy again.
Then she sat down on me and pressed her pussy against the bottom of my cock as she made it lie on my stomach.
I was on fire. Her warm body sitting on me felt perfect. Her skin was so soft. I could feel her pussy hairs on my abdomen and things were getting wet down there. My cock started to pulse again. She bent forward and gave me a very soft passionate kiss on the lips. It felt magnificent. I had only kissed three girls and none of those were passionate kisses. This kiss said she liked me and wasn't about to tell my mom about any of this.
She pulled her face about 5 inches from me and started to smile. That's when it hit me. I truly treasured this woman. Without saying a word almost like she could read my mind she gave me another deep passionate kiss. I wrapped my arms around her and just sucked her into my soul.
We kissed passionately for a few minutes. I could feel her pussy heating up, and getting wetter. Then she put her cheek next to mine and whispered in to my ear, ever so softly, "Do you want to fuck me, Bobby?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I really do," I rasped. "I don't know how to do that, though." I was burning up with anxiety.
"You let me take care of that. You just lie there and keep that beautiful, black cock nice and hard."
She slipped her hand down between our bodies and wrapped her fingers around my throbbing black cock, and brought the tip to the entrance of her pussy. I could feel the intense heat of her pussy on the tip of my cock. Her sweet pussy was dripping pussy juice now.
"I haven't had sex for ten years, Bobby."
"Why?" I gaped. "You really are the most beautiful woman I know."
"You're sweet. There have been plenty of men who got horny around me and would have fucked me and left me lying in bed. You're the only man who has treated me with respect and decency." She frowned. "Until you looked up my dress today."
I felt bold.
"Mrs. Pastrianni, you showed me your pussy on purpose. I know you did."
I think she was enjoying watching me suffer, because she had the most impish little grin on her face. "Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't. Would you like to stick your magnificent, black penis in me now young man?" I asked.
"Oh yes, please. I'm in pain. Please!"
"Who else have you fucked, Bobby?"
"Nobody, ma'am. I've never even seen a real pussy until today."
"Well, all those other women's loss will be my gain. Tell me you want to stick your cock in my pussy."
"Yes, yes Mrs. Pastrianni, I want to push my cock in your pussy, please let me put it in, please!" I begged.
She continued to stroke my cock. I could feel the outer lips of her pussy massaging the tip of my cock. For a second I thought I was dreaming, but when I felt the warm, wet, silky folds of her pussy push ever so slightly against the tip of my throbbing cock, I knew I was awake and this was not a dream.
She then said, "I need to hear it again Bobby, tell me you want to fuck me, say it baby, just say it again."
I looked into her eyes and said, "I need you Mrs. Pastrianni, I want to fuck you, please let me fuck you. I want to make you happy and I promise to try to fuck you good." I kept on whispering, "Please let me fuck you," over and over again. I guess that did it for her, because the next thing I felt was her pussy sliding along my cock until her reddish pubes mixed with my black ones. I was deep inside her body.
Her eyes closed and she groaned and it sounded like she was in pain.
"Are you hurt?" I asked, anxiously. "I don't want to hurt you!"
Her eyes opened and they stared down at me while I felt her pussy squeeze and release my cock a bunch of times.
"You're so sweet," she said. "You'd get laid all summer if it wouldn't make me pregnant." She moved. "No, it doesn't hurt. Well, it did hurt, but in a good way. I used to be addicted to that kind of pain. My husband had a friend very much like you and sometimes they both made me happy."
The warmth of her inner flesh was incredible. She was soaking wet and so hot.
She squeezed me again, still staring at me. Her hair fell beside her face and made a tunnel I had to look through.
"How about you, Bobby. Do you like that? Does it feel good to your enormous, black cock?"
"Yes," I gasped. "But I'm not enormous."
She laughed. "You have no idea. I am now convinced that all black men have enormous cocks. Jerome sure did. His hurt like that, back in the day, when I had two men fucking me."
"Two?"
"He was Danny's best friend. Danny was my husband. They were in the same unit in the Army. Danny used to watch while Jerome fucked me. Jerome was supposed to always take it out when he came, but he had little accidents. Then Danny would fuck me and put his white sperm in me. They were both trying to make me pregnant."
"Wow. I never heard of two men doing that," I said.
"That's because it is very rare," she said. "Danny knew I loved Jerome because Jerome saved Danny's life one time. And I wanted to reward him. He always got a boner around me, too, just like you. So Danny said I could reward Jerome if he could watch and I said he could and it turned out we all loved it. But now they're gone and I'm alone."
"You're not alone. I'm here with you," I said.
"Yes, you are, and I'm going to use you while I have you."
She started to slowly move back and forth on my cock. I could feel her pussy squeezing my cock, as she rode up and down on it. Mrs. Pastrianni had her eyes closed while she fucked me real slow. She looked like she was in another dimension, lost in another sexual world. I thought to myself "How many guys actually get to fuck the women of their dreams?"
Then she increased her pace. And soon she began bouncing up and down on my cock like a wild woman. Then I felt her pussy contract around my cock, and she started to shake violently. Mrs. Pastrianni bent over and began to kiss me even more passionately then before. I don't know what possessed me; I put my arm around her waist, and rolled over. Now I was on top. I broke our kiss and said, "You just fucked me, Mrs. Pastrianni, now I'm going to fuck you."
Then I slammed my cock deep into her sweet pussy, and started to pound her pussy like some kind of caged animal. Finally I was the one in control, and man did it feel good. I felt the tip of my cock running into something that was hard, but yet gave a little bit. She was squealing now, and panting, "Yes, yes, yes."
She was moaning so loud. Her pussy was leaking so much pussy juice; I could feel her sticky goo on my balls. I stood on my arms and looked down, watching my black rod slicing in and out of her pussy. She was still chanting "Yes, yes, yes," and suddenly I felt it.
"I'm gonna cum!" I rasped.
Her eyes opened and her hands pushed on my chest.
"Not in me, Baby!" she gasped. "You can't cum in me. You have to pull out. Pull out and I'll suck it again."
I had already started cumming while she was saying all this, and I got one shot inside her before I jerked it out, gasping. I watched as I painted a line from her skirt up her blouse to her boobs and then came all over her soft hair down there.
"You're just like Jerome," she groaned. "You had a little accident. I felt it. You came in me a little, Bobby."
"I'm sorry," I panted. "I was already going off when you told me to take it out."
"You must always ask a woman if you can cum in her before you start cumming," she said. "I'm not on birth control. It's possible you got me pregnant. Jerome always tried to. He had accidents on purpose because he knew I loved it when he tried to breed me. I did love it, too. I would have been proud to have his baby, and Danny would have loved that baby, too. But now is not the time for me to be popping out a little brown baby. This neighborhood is racist enough. It would be a scandal and either you or your father could be hurt."
"My father? Why would he get hurt?"
"Because people would think it was him who got me pregnant," she said. "Some of those people would want to kill him. They'd want to kill you, too, if they thought you were the father, so always, always, always tell me before you cum."
I blinked.
"Mrs. Pastrianni, it sounds like we might do this again," I said.
She smiled.
"We're going to do this many more times, my young stud. I've been without long enough and you deserve to have access to my horny old pussy. Unless you don't want to, anymore."
"No!" I gasped. "I want to! I want to!"
She smiled and pulled my face down for a kiss.
"Now, let me up. I have to go to the bathroom and see if I can let your lovely black seeds drain out of me. This isn't a terrible time to have it in me but I don't want to take chances."
I got up and looked at her pussy, which was leaking thick white sauce. She reached to pinch those fat pussy lips together and stood up. I pulled my pants back on as she went and sat on the pot. She left the door open and called, "Don't leave. We need to talk."
I had never seen a woman sitting on the pot and it was kind of fascinating to see her peering down at her snatch and rubbing her pussy with a wad of toilet paper. She also rubbed her halter top with a hand towel. She had remained clothed the entire time things were transpiring and when she finally stood up she looked so normal that it was hard to believe any of it had happened. I followed her to the kitchen and she poured me a glass of chocolate milk, telling me to sit down. She sat across from me and her gorgeous, green eyes stared at me.
"There are some things going on here that you are too young to understand," she said. "I was very much in love with Danny, and I loved Jerome, too. People would have said that was perverted, back then, but if I had a mixed race baby it wouldn't have been such a big deal. Lots of black men are married to white women in the Army. Carrington is not the Army, though. I came here because my Uncle owned this house. It's a small, quiet town and that's what I needed after my lovers died. I drifted from place to place for years, and Uncle John told me to come here to finish healing, so I did."
She took a sip of her coffee.
"How I feel about you is complicated. I like you for who you are, but you also remind me of Jerome. I could teach you to love me the same way he did, but if I did that I'm afraid I'd fall in love with you. You're fifteen. I'm twice your age. People would never accept that you and I had sex. They might burn my house down and hurt you or your father." She blinked. "That said, I've been without what you just gave me for ten years and I'm not going to give it up as long as you'll offer it to me. And what makes that complicated is that you need to have a normal, teenage life, which you won't have if you are climbing between an older woman's thighs instead of chasing after girls your own age."
She leaned back and looked at me. It seemed like she expected me to say something, so I did.
"Look, Mrs. Pastrianni. I dreamed a bunch of times about something like this happening. I even woke up with cum in the bed a few times." She put her fingertips over her mouth to hide a smile, but I knew she wasn't laughing at me. "I don't know about love. I don't think I've ever been in love. I do know that girls my age won't have anything to do with me. Jason Trimble took a picture of me in the showers after gym one day and he plastered it all over the internet. It had words on it that said my mother had sex with a horse. He got suspended from school for doing it, but that picture is still out there and it won't go away. I'm not allowed to date, yet, but I am allowed to ask girls to dances. Every girl I asked to go with me to a dance said that she saw that picture and no thank you. A couple of them said their parents had seen the picture and they weren't even supposed to talk to me, much less go out with me."
"Oh my," she sighed. "Girls can be so stupid."
"So there won't be any normal life for me, at least until I go to college, and if all the girls are scared of my dong now, they'll still be scared of it in college too, won't they?"
"Some girls leave their stupidity behind when they get to college," she said. "If I was in college I'd snap you up." She crossed her arms. "Okay. We're going to have to be careful. I can't hire you more than once a week or it will look odd. I'll see if I can get some condoms, though I hate the things. I can't buy them here, in town. Gossip would get around that I bought them and must be fucking some man. I don't want to draw attention to either of us. Do you want to get together … like today … once a week?"
"Hell yes," I gasped. She laughed.
"You make an old woman feel good."
"I told you. You're not old and you're beautiful. You could have any man you want. All you'd have to do is crook your finger at him and smile."
"And everybody in town would know I was letting that man bed me. I'm not getting married again, Bobby. I want a lover, not a husband. I want you, not a husband."
"Well, I'm in," I said.
"Good. So, is there anything we've forgotten?"
I blinked. I also fidgeted.
"Go on," she said. "Whatever it is, just say it."
"Could I possibly … maybe … see your … um … boobs?" I asked.
She laughed again and looked at her watch. "How long have you been here? I don't want your mother wondering where you are."
"My mom is gone to my Aunt Sally's house because Aunt Sally is sick."
"Who else knows you're here?" she asked.
"Just Tasha," I said. Tasha was my big sister. She was seventeen and thought she was all grown up.
"Will Tasha wonder why you've been gone so long?"
"Tasha doesn't even talk to me," I said. "She's too busy talking and texting on her phone.
"Well, in that case, follow me."
I followed her to her bedroom, which smelled wonderful and was all pink and white.
"Take your clothes off, Bobby," she said. "All of them."
I didn't question her and just stripped. Then she took off her shirt. She didn't have a bra on under it.
"Wow," I sighed. I felt my cock rising up in tribute.
Then she pushed her skirt off and she was standing there naked. She took two steps towards me and hugged me. The feeling of her smooth, hot body against mine was like nothing I'd ever felt before.
"Thank you," she said. "I've missed the feel of a man's skin against me for so long."
She held me for maybe fifteen seconds and then stepped back.
"Wow," I sighed again. "You look like Miss September in a Playboy Junior Higgins had at school a while back."
"All the Playboy models these days are shaved," she said, pulling at her silky pubes. Danny and Jerome used to shave me. Then they'd eat me until I screamed. I don't suppose you'd like to learn how to shave my pussy, would you?"
"Oh please, yes!" I gasped. I felt my cock bouncing up and down as I hopped.
She grinned. That made her look a heck of a lot younger somehow.
"Well, we don't have time now, but how about you come back tomorrow morning, around eight, and we'll get this off of here and give you your first taste of pussy. How does that sound?"
"I might cum right now," I groaned, as I grabbed my dick.
She pushed me backwards and I fell down on her bed. She was over me almost instantly she put her mouth on me again. She'd only had time to suck a few times before I blew my wad in her mouth, again. She slurped at it until it was soft and then sat up.
"Didn't want to waste it," she said.
"Mrs. Pastrianni, now I think I love you," I sighed.
She laughed.
"I know I should feel ashamed, but I just don't. I'm glad we did this, Bobby. I haven't felt this young in years."
I stared at her. My dick tried to get hard again, but all I felt was a dull ache.
She hugged me, again, pressing her ripe, adult body against mine. It felt her hot, soft breasts were going to burn holes into my chest.
Then, with one last kiss she told me to get dressed and go home so that Tasha didn't wonder where I was.
Chapter Two
When I got home everything felt different. It was like the whole world had changed. Tasha was coming out of the laundry room and I slid by her, headed for my room. I wanted to lie down and remember every second of what had happened, before it faded.
I had done this a thousand times – slide by my sister in the hallway – but this time I bumped into her. She snarled at me, as usual, and then put a hand out on my chest, to push me against the wall. She sniffed, and looked at me.
"Where have you been?" she asked.
Now, this is hard to explain, but her voice sounded different, and it was different in a way that made something inside me go "Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!" So I lied. It was an instinctive lie.
"Nowhere," I said. "Why? Are you suddenly my mother?"
She sniffed again and blinked. She frowned, and said, "You smell like …" Then she shook her head. "Nawww. No way. Never mind. Watch where you're going next time."
What she had smelled on me was Mrs. Pastrianni's … sex. And she might have gotten the faint whiff of semen. I know that when I got to my room my underwear had a big wet spot on the front where I had continued to leak after my latest blow job. I was standing there in awe that I had actually had two blow jobs when Tasha banged open the door and stomped in. I was naked from the waist down and when she came in I whirled to face her. I felt my dick swing out and then slap on my hip, before settling between my legs. I also saw her eyes watch this happen and then get as big as saucers.
"Bobby!" she squeaked.
Again, her voice sounded different. She didn't say anything else. Then it hit me that my sister could see my dick and both of my hands whipped over my dong to cover it up.
"What?" I yelled.
"Where …" she swallowed. "What …" she licked her lips. Then it was like she was back and the same old Tasha, again. "When the fuck did you grow that thing?" She pointed at my hands. "And why are you half naked?"
What had happened with Mrs. Pastrianni had given me a shot of "It's time to grow up, Bobby" and so I answered her differently than I might have a day earlier.
"I'm half naked because I'm in my room … where it's private. And I didn't think you'd be interested in keeping track of how and when I grew up."
My attitude surprised her. She's always been able to terrorize me, and has happily done so. She grinned.
"You were gonna beat off! You were getting ready to beat off!"
What I said next was pure fiction, but it turned out to be a good thing to say.
"Actually, I already beat off in the woods behind the house. Some of it got on my pants and I'm changing them. Happy, now?"
She was shocked. Never in a million years did she expect me to be so bold. But it supplied an answer to her brain that explained what she had sniffed, and which she just couldn't put out of her mind. That's why she had barged in. She was going to interrogate me and find out why I smelled like … sex. Now, she thought she knew.
"My, my, my," she said. "My little brother is actually growing up. Let me see that thing again."
"No fucking way," I snarled. "What are you, some kind of pervert?"
"No. I only got a brief glimpse but it looks like that picture Jason put online wasn't photo-shopped after all."
I blinked.
"You know about that picture?"
"Everybody in school knows about it," she said. "I've had five or six girls come up to me and ask me if it was true."
"What did you tell them?" I asked, still covering my cock.
"I told them I don't look at your dick, Stupid," she said. "And I didn't. Move your hands. I want to see."
"You don't look at my dick, remember?" I pointed out.
"I didn't until I found out it actually looks like what everybody thinks all black dicks look like." She blinked. "Which they do not, by the way. Come on. Let me see it. I have to know if it's real or not."
"Why?"
"Because people believe the stupidest things, like all black guys have a schlong that hangs to their knees. I've seen a few and none of the ones I saw come even close to what I think you're hiding behind those hands."
"This feels kind of pervy," I said.
"I don't want to suck it!" she snapped. "I only want to see it!"
Now that was interesting. She said that in a way that I knew meant she had, in fact, sucked at least one cock. With some dismay I felt my own peter react to the concept of Tasha's mouth sucking on some guy's penis.
Again, boldness made me stupid.
"So, how many have you sucked?" I asked.
I still wish I could have gotten a picture of the look on her face when I said that. Then she recovered.
"How many have you sucked, little brother?" She looked triumphant. "Yeah! You tell me how many you've sucked and I'll tell you how many I've sucked. Hah!"
"None!" I said, instantly. "Now it's your turn."
"No," she said, looking worried. "That's not what I meant."
"Well, it's what you said," I reminded her. "You said if I told you how many dicks I had sucked, you would tell me how many you have sucked. Well, I answered your question. I have sucked zero cocks. Zero is a real number because it's an integer. I learned that in math. So … your turn."
Tasha did not like being hoisted by her own petard. I actually thought that sentence and marveled that I actually remembered something from my English Lit class the previous year. I knew it was Shakespeare, but I couldn't remember the name of the play it came from.
"I'm not telling you that, you little prick!" she snapped.
Bold seemed to have not just seeped into me as Mrs. Pastrianni made me a man, it seemed to have become a deluge. I moved my hands and lifted my dick, laying it on both hands and pointing it at her.
"I don't have a little prick," I said. "Was the last one you sucked this big?"
Well, it all sounded good in my head, and now that I've written it, it doesn't look bad on paper, but Tasha was not impressed. Nor was she having any of that sass coming from her punk little brother. So she did what Tasha always did. She got physical. We had both grown up "wrestling" with our father, who always won and tickled us as "punishment" for "trying to beat him up." He still did that with me, though the tickling part had gone away. He hadn't wrestled with Tasha since she grew boobs. She had cried one time because they were tender and they got squashed in their wrestling match and Mom made them stop doing that.
Her boobs didn't hurt anymore, though, and she was only too willing to wrestle with me, which wasn't fair. She'd been going to Judo classes since she was ten or eleven and I had not. So she could almost always take me down and lie on top of me, dominating me and calling me twerp.
It was different this time, for both of us. First of all, I was half naked, which had never happened before when anybody wrestled. Second, when she got me down I grabbed one of her boobs and squeezed it. Then I squeezed it again, to notify her that it hadn't been an accident. Do not ask me why I did this. I had noticed my sister as a female, before. She was cute, but she knew it, which degrades a girl's cuteness. I had noticed she had boobs, but I hadn't stared at them, or anything. She was interesting enough I'd been foolish enough to try to peek up her dress, to my everlasting shame. It was interesting because the boob in my hand felt really spongy and big. She had a bra on, which made it feel firmer than I expected it to be (and firmer than it really was), though I didn't understand that, in that moment.
It had the desired result, though. She squealed and let go of me, which gave me the chance to wriggle around and get her in a bear hug. All I was trying to do was avoid being pinned again. If I could do that it became a stalemate. She was bigger than me, but I was stronger than her, if that makes any sense.
Anyway, I had her in a bear hug and that boob I had squeezed was now pressed against my chest. Our heads were beside each other, but in that particular grip we couldn't pull back and look at each other. If you did that you had to let go a little bit and that defeated the purpose. So there we were, cheek-to-cheek and I was hyper aware of her tits pressing against me, when she said, very clearly, "Get off of me, Bobby. You're pressing your dick against my pussy."
She didn't yell it, and she didn't sound mad, exactly. Again, her voice sounded different. It had a timbre I had never heard in her voice before. I would hear that timbre again one day, and learn that it meant she was full of passion.
So this tone of voice didn't sound dangerous and I let her go. She was lying on her back, and her legs were spread. My hands had been clasped behind her, and now they felt the pain of both of our weights on them. I clambered up and stood there, looking down at her. She stared back up at me, except she wasn't staring at my face. I looked down and there it was … a full-grown Bobby boner. I had gotten hard while we wrestled and didn't even know it. That's why she could feel it. It had actually been pressing against the vee in her jeans, right against her pussy.
"Shit," I said, and tried to cover my dong again. It being hard made it a lot more difficult to hide.
She sat up and reached to grip my wrists. I wasn't expecting it, and she overpowered me, pulling my hands away from my cock, which now sat, bobbing up and down, only a foot from her face.
"Good grief, Bobby," she said.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"Stop!" she said. "Just shut up."
It felt very odd, standing there with my shirt on and my boner pointing at my sister's face. She was sitting in what looked like an unnatural position, with her legs straight out and on either side of my feet, and her arms out from her body, holding my wrists to keep my hands away from my penis.
"Wow," she said. "It's incredible."
"Why?" I panted. When had I gotten out of breath?
"Jason took that picture in the locker room," she said. "You were there. You must have seen what the other guys looked like." She looked up at my face and then back at my dick. "They did not look like this, Bobby."
"Of course not," I said. "None of them were hard."
Now that had seemed like a normal, natural thing to say, in terms of the conversation we were having. But it was neither normal nor natural for me to have gotten stiff while we wrestled, nor for her to gaze at the evidence of my perversion for what seemed like forever.
"This seems kind of pervy, again," I said.
She looked up at me again.
"That's because this is pervy," she said.
"Um … what's going on, here?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said, staring at my cock again. "This has never happened before."
"Well, duh," I said.
She let go of my wrists and I let my hands hang at my sides. It felt even weirder.
She finally stood up and went and sat on the edge of my bed. She put the heels of her hands over her eyes and then removed them.
"I can't un-see it. I think you have scarred me for life, Bobby."
"I didn't do anything!" I complained.
"Put some pants on," she said.
She put the heels of her hands over her eyes again.
"I've seen two, okay? And neither of them looked anything like that," she said.
"Whose?" I felt a tightness in my chest that I didn't understand as I picked up the same underwear I had taken off and stepped into it.
"Why do you care?" she asked.
"I don't know," I answered, truthfully. I couldn't reach my shorts because they were lying on the bed behind her. So I just stood there, with the front of my briefs looking like there was a stick lodged in them, making them point. "I just do."
She looked at me.
"So you just want some dirt on me so you can blackmail me later."
"No, that's not it," I said. "When you said that I got this image in my mind of you looking at some guy's dick and I wanted to hit him."
"Hit him?" She sounded surprised. "That sounds like you're jealous."
"No, not jealous," I insisted. "It's just that I don't know any guys who deserve to … be with you like that."
"Wow!" she said. "You sound like Dad, now. Is it just a guy thing or what?"
"I don't know. I never felt like that before. I never even thought about it before. I never thought about you that way before."
"What way?"
"I don't know," I groaned. "I grabbed you and it's like everything changed."
"You mean when you squeezed my boob?"
"Yeah, and after that, when they were pressed against me."
"And when you were pushing your hard dick against my pussy," she suggested.
"I wasn't doing that on purpose," I said.
"It sure felt like you were. Talk about things getting pervy."
"I'm sorry?" I don't know why it came out as a question.
"Are you?" she asked. "It really felt like you were doing it on purpose. I mean I've felt guys doing that before."
"Shit," I said. "Now I want to hit somebody again."
"I'm still a virgin, Bobby," she said, calmly. "You and Daddy don't have to worry about me. Some day I'll meet a guy I like enough to do that with, but it won't be real soon."
"Good," I said.
"Says the pervert who has a boner because of his sister." But she grinned. "Well! This is different. We've never talked like this. It's kind of nice."
"Sorry about the boner thing," I said. "Sometimes it gets that way for no reason at all."
"You don't have to be sorry," she said. "The weird thing is that it didn't make me feel icky at all. Maybe it's because you didn't try to get me to take my pants off and stick your tongue down my throat and paw my boobs."
"I did sort of paw your boobs," I said. "At least one of them."
"Minor league stuff," she said, waving her hand in the air.
"It's that kind of talk that makes me feel upset," I said. "You sound like you do that kind of thing all the time."
"Not really," she said. "It's different, depending on who the boy you're out with is. If I go out with a black guy, he's all over me. White guys are different. They're more gentle and stop quicker when you tell them to. When you squeezed me it was like a white guy would squeeze me."
"This isn't helping, Tasha," I groaned. I grabbed my dick through my shorts. If anything it was even harder.
"Why did you grab my boob?" she asked.
"I don't know. I was pinned and I guess I thought that would shock you enough to let me get out of it."
"Well, it worked," she said. "Now that I can think about it, I think that's why I thought you were pressing your cock against my pussy on purpose. That, combined with the squeeze made it seem intentional."
"I don't even remember pushing against you … down there," I said.
"I do," she said. "I don't think I'll ever forget it."
"Why? Was it that bad?"
"No. The problem was … I kind of liked it."
***************
"So, what's going to happen, now?" I asked. I had pants on and we were sitting, side by side on the edge of my bed.
"I have no freaking clue," she said. "I'd suggest we go our own way, but I don't want to."
"What do you want to do?" I asked.
"I want to see it again," she sighed.
"Shit," I said. I covered my crotch instinctively.
"Did it get hard again?"
"Yeah."
"I'm surprised you don't pass out when that happens."
"Ha, ha. It's not that big."
"Well the way I remember it, it is," she said. "Man. Who would have thought I want to look at my own brother's cock?"
"Who would have thought I'd want to look at my sister naked?" I responded.
"Do you?"
"If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to torture me?"
"Why would I torture you? I've never tortured you before."
"Give me a break," I groaned. "When was the last time you took me down and pinned me like I was a little boy?"
"I almost said you are a little boy, but I can't say that, now. I'll never be able to think of you as a little boy again."
"I tried to look up your skirt last week," I said.
"What?"
"Mom caught me and she said if I ever did it again she'd give me a beating I'd never forget."
"I'll have to thank her for that," said Tasha.
"Please don't. You're not supposed to know. Are you disappointed? That's what Mom said you'd be if you knew."
"Hmm. I need to think about that," she said.
"Why? You're either disappointed or you're not," I said.
"Three hours ago I would have been disappointed. I'd have been pissed off. I'd have screamed at you for being a pervert. That's before you rubbed your boner against my pussy and I liked it. Now? I wouldn't say I'm disappointed. I'd say I would expect any boy to do that. What complicates this is that if any other guy wanted to do that I'd kick him into next Tuesday. I don't want to kick you into next Tuesday, though. A guy with the biggest, most beautiful dick I ever saw wants to see me naked. I can't get upset about that. I should get upset, because that guy is my little pest brother, except he's not so little anymore and, if I have to tell the truth, you're not really a pest."
"Wow," I said. "Damn," I added. I covered my lap again.
"Again?" She sounded surprised.
"Still. It just got harder and it wants some attention. Maybe we should stop talking about this."
"No," she said. "We need to talk about this."
"Why?"
"Because I can't just go get a snack when I want to fondle my brother's penis," she said.
"Fondle? I thought all you wanted to do was look at it."
"That's what I thought, too. When you said it needed attention, I thought I should learn how to do that."
"Why should you learn how to … um … pay attention … to your brother's cock?"
"I told you I've seen two, but I haven't actually touched any," she said. "Not exactly."
"What does not exactly mean?" I asked.
"Both of them wanted to fuck me and I talked them down to blow jobs. I didn't know how to give a blow job, but it didn't matter, because the second I touched the first one, it went off. I got an actual grip on the second one and it went off, too. Sooner or later, though, I'm going to run into somebody who doesn't have a hair trigger and I'm going to need to know how to make it go off before it gets in me."