I was with a woman whom I’ll call Brenda for seven years, though never married to her, starting in 1989. We reconnected periodically after stormy break-ups, so the seven actual years stretched over almost 13.
When we first met, her daughter, Liza, was just fifteen; straight as a stick, braces, weird hairdo, attitude, a mess. When we moved to Seattle in 1993, Liza had just turned 18 and graduated high school. Brenda and I broke up about three months after she hit town and she went through a period in which she thought she might be a lesbian. I stayed away but, by that time, had developed a serious, distracting thing for Liza, who had blossomed amazingly when she was just about to turn 18. The flat little figure filled out with perfect cupcake tits and her ass,always her best feature, became a tad larger – just enough to become pretty nearly perfect. She has cafe-au lait skin, blonde hair, sleep, sexy eyes, and beautiful tanned legs. I found myself thinking of her every time I masturbated and the orgasms were spine-cracking – geysers of cum that coated my chest and face.
She was going through, right before her Mom and I called it quits, that stage in which some young girls begin to test their sexual wiles and, with Liza, this involved running around the house in nothing but panties and a short t-shirt. I noticed. She noticed me noticing. I was nailed with stunning regularity. I got so I almost stopped trying not to stare. One afternoon, in the kitchen, she came right out and asked if I was sneaking peeks at her. I admitted that I did and she asked why.
“Because you’re very pretty and you’re running around the house in just panties and a t-shirt. I’m not related to you by either blood or marriage andI’m male. So, if it bothers you to be peeked at, I’d suggest you put on at least some pants.”
She smiled and thought for a second.
“Y’know,” she said, “I’ve wondered about that, too. I don’t think of you as my step-dad or anything. And I’m aware of the fact that I’m in my panties. I…I guess I kinda…like it.”
“Being peeked at?” I asked.
“Well…yeah,” she shrugged, “I mean, I look at you, too, when you’re not looking. I even peeked through the keyhole when you were in the bathroom.”
“When?” I asked, stunned.
“Oh…maybe fifteen times,” she giggled nervously, “I saw you…you know…”
“No,” I replied, my head swimming, “I don’t know.”
“Well…with your…I mean…you were…uh…masturbating,” she blushed.
“And you watched?” I sputtered.
“Yeah,” she sighed, “You were saying my name.”
I must have turned about the color of a fire engine. I stood there with my face red and my cock starting to stir in my pants. I could feel it swelling and twisting as it strained against the front of my briefs. I glanced at Liza and saw her eyes were fixed on my crotch.
“Would you…” she began, “I mean…could I…can I see?”
The erection slammed into high gear. Now the pressure against my zipper was almost painful. I pressed the heel of my hand against it and groaned at the beautiful friction.
“Take it out,” she stammered, “Please?”
“Honey, I don’t…”
“I’ve already seen it!” she sputtered, “I saw it hard already. Saw you jacking it. I just want to see it up close. Maybe hold it? I’ll suck it, if you want me to.”
“Have you done that before?” I asked, unzipping almost unconsciously, as aroused as I’ve ever been, “Have you sucked a dick?”
She groaned and slipped her panties off. Her little pussy was shaved and already wet. I could see trails of her juices running down the inside of her legs.
“Yes,” she said in a tiny voice,”I sucked off my cousin when we went to Greenville. But his was little tiny. I…I dream about getting my whole mouth full.”
I pulled my cock out and let it fall out of my pants. I hung there and throbbed as my pre-cum dripped off the head. She looked at it hungrily and began to frig her clit. I could hear little sloshing noises as her fingers slipped around in her juices.
“I want to lick that juice off you while you suck,” I groaned, “I want to taste your sweet little pussy.”
To Be Continued