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From: Daemon Way <daemonway@yahoo.ca>
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Subject: {ASSM} ST: "Teacher - Part Forty-One" (nc, mc, F/m)
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Date: Thu, 11 Jan 2007 02:10:05 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

TEACHER - PART FORTY-ONE

By Daemon Way

daemonway@yahoo.ca

	Marian Wilson looked at herself in the hallway mirror
for the tenth time.  She was feeling as giddy as a
school girl on her first date, and as worried about
her appearance.  Fortunately Matt had left early that
morning while she was still asleep on an overnight
camping trip with Nat Wilson and wasn't around to poke
fun at her anxiety about a simple night out with whom
he'd begun calling her young awe-struck admirer, and
Cory was having a Friday/Saturday night sleep over at
his new friend's, Dominic Halder's, and wasn't there
to see his mother's angst as if she were his older
teenage sister.  As she studied the image in the
mirror critically, she decided the dress she'd
selected was too tight and too revealing.  Her date
after all was only fifteen.  Well, he wasn't really a
date.  Sure, he had asked her out that evening, and
there were just the two of them, and he had bought her
flowers, a dozen roses, which had arrived an hour ago.
 She glanced at the flowers in the vase.  They were
beautiful.  She looked back at her image.  Perhaps if
she put a shawl over her shoulders.  She had a
beautiful white lace with a design in gold thread that
Matt had bought her for her thirty-fourth birthday
that would be perfect with the dress and would cover
up her breasts.  Or, she could change dresses.  The
one she was wearing had been her third choice.  The
first had been too ordinary and made her look like a
mother and wife, which of course she was but she
didn't have to look the part, and the second was too
formal and businesslike, making her look like a
corporate executive.  This one would have to do, and
besides, a shawl solved the problem of choosing a
necklace.  Each one she'd put on had drawn attention
to her cleavage, which under any other circumstance
other than tonight she would not have had a problem
with.
	Throwing the shawl over her shoulders and looking in
the mirror again, she decided without a necklace she
looked incomplete.  The silver one with the diamond
pendant and matching earrings went nice with that
dress, but they were expensive and might embarrass her
date.  She knew Darien came from a rich family and had
a generous spending allowance, but she didn't want to
overdress.  She settled for the short string of
pearls.  It didn't hang down and it drew attention to
her neck, not what was below.  She looked at her image
again and wondered if maybe she shouldn't have worn
any lipstick or makeup.  She had put it on sparingly. 
Going without any makeup had made her look pallid in
her red dress.  Maybe she shouldn't have put on the
eyeshadow.  The doorbell rang, putting her out of her
misery.  Inhaling nervously, she opened the door.
	Darien was a tall boy for his age,
five-foot-seven-and-a-half, and mature looking with
his perfectly groomed hair, high cheekbones and strong
chin, and he always dressed fashionably, but even
knowing that did not prepare Marian for the handsome
young man standing at the door.  He was no boy, and he
was absolutely dashing.  His black suit was
tailor-made, not something he'd picked up off the
rack, and it and his powder blue silk shirt were both
from Armani, and top of the line.  Even his silk bow
tie had to have cost a pretty sum.  His layered, jet
black hair was gelled and combed back, not a strand
out of place, and his shoes so highly polished you
could likely see your reflection in them.  His downy
as of yet unshaven cheeks and smooth, crimson lips,
however, revealed his true age.
	"You look absolutely gorgeous," he observed, his rich
brown eyes sparkling and his wide, open grin
infectious.
	"And so are you," observed Marian.  "Has anyone ever
suggested you should consider becoming a model?"
	"No," he replied with an even wider smile as he
blushed modestly and chuckled self-consciously, adding
to his boyish charm.
	"Well, you should."
	He gave another self-conscious chuckle and they stood
there awkwardly for a moment.  "Oh, I bought you
this," he said abruptly, handing her a small
gift-wrapped box that he had been holding.
	"Another gift?  You shouldn't have.  The flowers by
the way were beautiful.  Thank you."
	"You're welcome.  They were for going out with me
tonight.  This is for Valentines, and for all the time
you've been spending with me these past three weeks."
	"I've enjoyed every minute of it."  That was true. 
Darien and his brother had come over the past three
Sundays and had spent the entire day, then last Monday
for the entire evening, and each time the hours had
flown by and she'd hated to see him leave.  Unwrapping
the gift and opening the jewellery box, she stared at
the pendant and earrings.  Made of rubies and cut in
the shape of hearts, they were simple in design but
beautiful, and very expensive.  She could not possibly
accept them.  As she looked up at him she tried to
think how she could graciously decline the gift.  It
had to have cost far too much, and was the sort of
thing a lover gave his beloved.
	"You don't like it."
	"Oh no!  It's perfectly gorgeous!"
	"It's too tacky."
	"No!  Not at all!"
	"It does sort of match your dress."  Marian looked at
the gift again.  Removing her earrings, she reached
behind her and unhooked the pearl necklace.  "I didn't
mean you should change.  The pearls match too!" he
said in a sudden panic.  Assuring him it was not a
problem, Marian turned and he hooked the necklace for
her and she put on the earrings.  The ruby hung low,
down to where her cleavage began.
	"It's beautiful."
	"So are you," Darien observed, stepping up behind her
and slipping his arms about her as he looked over her
shoulder at her image in the mirror.
	He was the same height as she was though with her
hair done up and in her high heels she looked taller. 
Damn, she'd forgotten about the heels and that they
would make her look taller than her date.  Always tall
for her age, she'd never have made that mistake when
she was fifteen.  She reprimanded herself.  Their
comparative heights didn't matter.  She was
thirty-seven, not fifteen, and he was not her date. 
Looking at their image in the mirror, she saw his eyes
drop and admire the ruby, and her breasts.   The shine
of lust in his dark brown eyes did not offend her. 
She had nice breasts, and he was fifteen after all. 
As she inhaled, his cologne, freshy and spicy, like
him, caused her heart to speed up.  She might not be
fifteen, but at the moment she felt like it.  As they
left the house, she left the shawl behind.
	"So, where are we going for dinner?"
	"I've made reservations at Duane's," he replied as
their chauffer opened the door of the limo for them.
	Duane's.  Riverside's Triple A Four Diamond
Restaurant at the Mission Inn was one of the most
expensive restaurants in the city.  Of course when a
boy-young man-is chauffeured around town in a limo and
has a weekly allowance of five hundred dollars from a
Trust, that he'd chosen Duane's did not come as a
surprise, other than that he and his brother were not
the type to flaunt their wealth.  The dinner began
interestingly.  The waiter asked if they would like to
begin with something to drink, as waiters do, looking
at both but addressing Marian, dismissing Darien as
the boy he was.
	"We'd like a bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild
Pauillac," announced Darien without looking at the
wine list, "1986."
	"Ah, well," the waiter replied with poorly concealed
amusement, "I'm sorry but we can't serve-."
	"Of course you can't.  I'll have water."
	"Actually, water is fine for me also," Marian
intervened.
	"You'll love the Pauillac," Darien insisted.  "It has
a wonderful flavour, a combination of chocolate,
raspberries and spices."  He looked up at the waiter
expectantly.
	"Yes, an  . . .  ah, excellent choice."  The waiter
glanced at Marian uncomfortably.  "But, ah, well, the
price of such a vintage-."
	"Do you normally discuss the price of wine with your
patrons?" Darien asked, his voice with just a hint of
sharpness.
	"Well, no, but I thought-," the waiter stumbled,
clearly uncomfortable now.  Darien took out his wallet
and opened it.  "Really, that's not going-," he began,
figuring the boy was going to give him a bribe. 
Instead, Darien handed him a business card.
	"Just give that to the wine steward, and be quick
about it if you will.  We are due at the philharmonic
at seven-forty-five."  He glanced at Marian
apologetically as the waiter left.  "I'm really sorry
about that.  He must be new here."
	"That's all right," she replied, feeling sorry for
him.  He was trying very hard to make a good
impression and to be so grown up.  "But wine really
wasn't necessary."
	"Grandfather says that a meal without a good wine is
like bratwurst without mustard.  Dijon of course," he
added with a smile.  "I've added that last part on my
own."  Marian laughed and he blushed with pleasure. 
His conversation, like his manners, was far beyond his
years.
	The waiter returned with remarkable speed, with the
bottle and profuse apologies.  Uncorking it and
leaving the cork beside Darien, he poured a sample in
his wine glass.  He picked up the cork and examined it
and sniffed it, and then swirled the wine in his
mouth.  "Just as Grandfather said it was," he
pronounced.  The waiter filled Marian's glass, and
then unobtrusively picked up Darien's and holding it
below the table out of sight filled it also.  He had
barely left when another waiter appeared to take their
order.  Marian had never seen such prompt service.
	"May I suggest we begin with the Chilled Seafood
Presentation?" Darien asked.  Marian glanced at the
menu.  Jumbo gulf shrimp, north Atlantic oysters,
Alaskan king crab legs, and Australian lobster tail
with the traditional accompaniments for two: how could
she say no?  "I'll follow that with the onion soup,
and Duane's Chopped Salad (a Julienne trio of
lettuces, red onion, mushrooms, green olives, bacon,
hearts of palm and crumbled blue cheese tossed with
garlic vinaigrette.)  And with my rib chop, could I
have the lobster mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus
spears, and a side dish of mushrooms?"
	"Of course, very good sir," the waiter replied with a
deep, subservient bow, unable to hide the impressed
look passing over his face.  "And for madam?"
	Marian had planned on ordering the cheapest meal on
the menu, but that would be blatant.  "I'll have the
spinach salad, with butter and cream, and the filet
mignon and lobster tail, with garlic mashed potatoes
and sauteed baby corn."
	"Very good, madam," he replied, again with a deep
bow.
	Marian took another sip of wine.  It was very good. 
It had the taste of chocolate, raspberries and spice
as he had said.  She would have been even more
appreciative had she known it was six hundred dollars
a bottle.
	"It has an exceptionally elongated aftertaste,
doesn't it?" Darien asked, taking a sip of his.  He
was not being pretentious.  He really did know his
wines, and his food, thanks to the upbringing of his
parents and the influence of his grandparents.  The
conversation went by quickly and enjoyably.  The food
was excellent, the corn in butter and cream sauce
smooth and sweet, the steak and lobster perfect, and
she giggled as he speared a mushroom sauteed in
butter, garlic and white wine and fed it to her.  She
was eating a lot of garlic, but it was not as if they
were going to share a goodnight kiss or anything.  He
easily devoured his twenty-five-ounce rib eye.  He was
still a growing boy.  And they easily finished off the
wine.  Stuffed, she declined dessert.
	"Perhaps after the performance then," he said.  When
they delivered the bill, there was no mistake this
time.  It was discretely left beside him.  Marian
could not help but notice Darien slipped a five and
four one hundreds into the folder.
	It was a short walk to the Riverside Performing Arts
Centre and they had time to pause and enjoy the
gardens, fountains, and waterfall oasis surrounding
the Riverside Municipal Auditorium before entering the
concert hall.  Their seats, like everything else that
evening, were the best.  The concert the Riverside
County Philharmonic performed that evening, "All
Beethoven, The Power and the Glory," was advertised as
"Bad Boy Beethoven."  Darien said that it was the
philharmonic's attempt to attract a younger audience
based on a marketing survey that had been conducted by
grad students at Cal State San Bernardino.  Featuring
the renowned pianist Kirill Gliadkovski and performing
Beethoven's "Emperor" Concerto and the powerful "7th
Symphony," it was a delightful evening.
	"Would you like that dessert now?" Darien asked as
they left the concert hall.
	"I'm still stuffed from dinner.  It was delicious,"
she pronounced once again.
	"Well then, perhaps later," he said with a smile as
they headed back to the Mission Inn.  Later?  It was
ten-thirty at night.  "Did you know earlier this year
the philharmonic performed Jennifer Higdon's Fanfare
Ritmico?"
	"Which was part of the largest commission in history
of new works by women composers," replied Marian. 
"Yes, Matt and I attended it.  It was beautiful."
	"It was.  I attended it also, with Nat and my
parents.  Perhaps someday I will attend a performance
to hear your work."
	"I'll never be that good," Marian replied with a
humble laugh.
	"You already are," Darien replied, looking at her in
admiration and causing her to blush.
	The Mission Inn was one of Riverside's most famous
historic sites, begun in 1876 as a boarding house and
renovated ten years ago and now occupying an entire
city block and consisting of restaurants, including
Duane's, dozens of little specialty shops and exterior
arcades, a medieval-style clock overlooking the
Spanish patio which included a castle courtyard and
Mediterranean domes and flying buttresses, and 250
guest rooms and suites.  The original owner's son had
built it in stages in whatever historical
architectural style that struck him at the time, and
filled it with museum-quality artifacts that he
collected around the world.  With its narrow
passageways and maze of patios, gardens and rotundas,
it was like a self-contained medieval European city. 
Many famous people had stayed there, including the
Regan's on their honeymoon.
	"Where are we going?" Marian asked, following Darien
to the elevator and stepping inside.
	"I've taken the liberty of reserving us a room for
the night."
	"A room?" she asked in surprise.
	"It is a long drive back to Briarwood.  Besides, I
didn't want the chauffer to be sitting around bored
while we ate and attended the performance.  I
dismissed him when he dropped us off."  A room,
overnight?  The two of them?  "I've done wrong,
haven't I?" he asked, noticing her look of dismay.
	"No, no, not at all.  I just, well, I just wasn't
expecting-."
	"Like the necklace and earrings.  I just did it
without thinking what you might want or like.  Mother
says I'm rash and impulsive, like Father.  I just want
to thank you for all you've done for me."
	"I haven't done anything," Marian insisted, "and
you've thanked me a thousand times over."
	"I'll phone the chauffer," he said apologetically as
he took out his cell phone.  "I'm so sorry."
	"Don't apologize," she replied, putting her hand on
his shoulder, feeling miserable for disappointing him.
 His gift, the incident over the wine, and now this. 
He was trying so hard and she was not making it easy
for him.  She remembered when she was young and just
dashed ahead full speed.  Matt had been like that too
when they were dating, which was one of the many
things that had attracted her to him.  He still was
and she loved him dearly for it.
	"We can at least look at the suite before we leave,"
he suggested as the elevator stopped.  "Since we're
here."
	"You ordered us a suite?"
	"One of the Moorish rooms along Author's Row.  I've
never stayed in one, but Mother says they are the most
spacious and comfortable.  She often books one when
she is writing and needs solitude."  By then they had
walked down the corridor to the room.
	"Well, certainly, we might as well look," she agreed.
 She'd never have another chance, and besides, she'd
already disappointed him enough times that evening. 
She could at least look.  Spacious and comfortable
were not the words she would have used.  With a living
room with an entertainment centre that included a
fifty-inch flat screen tv, stereo and DVD player, a
mini bar, and a large sofa that pulled out into a bed,
a study with full Internet hookup, and a bedroom with
a king-sized four poster bed, all done with a Moroccan
theme with Moorish paintings, pottery, carpets and
hangings, it was like nothing she'd ever imagined. 
"Oh my," she observed as she sat on the soft,
expansive bed.
	"You could sleep in here and I can sleep on the sofa.
 I think it pulls out into a bed."
	"Nonsense.  I'd never think of making you do that."
	"Good," he replied with that wide, open smile as he
sat on the bed beside her.  "I don't know how to open
up the sofa."
	That was not what Marian had meant of course, but
before she could respond he took her in his arms and
gave her a long, passionate kiss.  Several thoughts
raced through her mind, the prime one being that she
was thirty-seven and he was fifteen.  That he was
exceedingly handsome and virile was a very close
second, followed by the fact she was married, happily
and with a son two years younger than the boy kissing
her was, and lastly, that her loins ached for him like
she'd never felt them ache before.  The second and
third kisses confirmed all four thoughts.  By the
sixth the last thought had moved up to number one.  As
her blood began to race, she slipped her hands inside
his suit jacket and over his silk shirt.  It felt so
sleek and sexy, and his body so firm and muscular
under it.
	A knock on the door interrupted them.  Darien looked
at his watch.  Eleven, just like he'd asked when he'd
reserved the room.  "Besides, I ordered us wine and
dessert."  He glanced apologetically at her but this
time with a devilish grin.  "I know.  Presumptuous.  I
should have asked first.  But you'll love the dessert,
I've had it before, last November, for my fifteenth
birthday."  There was another knock at the door and he
got up to answer it before she could object.
	Accustomed to providing room service to many rich
guests and their children, the waiter was not
surprised when he opened the door, though he was taken
aback by the take-charge attitude when he was told he
could roll it into the bedroom and could light the
burners and open the wine, and he could not hide his
reaction when he saw the only other person present was
a woman over twice the boy's age.  She was beautiful,
and stacked, but she had to be in her thirties. That,
of course, was none of his business, particularly when
he was given a most generous tip.
	"Father says the same thing happened to him when he
was dating my mother and for a time after they were
married," he said as he poured them each a glass of
wine.
	"The same thing?"
	"The looks of surprise, sometimes even outright
disapproval, the hassles over his age when they went
places," he elaborated as he handed her the glass. 
"My father is sixteen years younger than my mother."
	"I see.  How old are your parents, if you don't mind
me asking?"
	"Father turned thirty on the tenth of last month. 
Mother is forty-six."
	Marian took a long sip of the wine.  Forty-six?  Good
God, his mother was nine years older than she was, and
she had been sitting there on the bed kissing the
woman's son, and getting aroused.  To be truthful,
she'd had the hots for him ever since the Sunday he
and his brother had come over to their house three
weeks ago.  The moment their eyes had met she'd felt
this attraction, this desire.  A second thought hit
her.  If his father just turned thirty, and Darien was
fifteen plus a few months, his father had to have been
fourteen and some when he'd impregnated Darien's
mother.  She took another long sip.
	"It is good, isn't it?" Darien observed as he sipped
his.  At $774 a bottle, it had better be.  "It is a
Chateau Latour Pauillac 1990.  Grandfather says it is
one of raciest wines of the Madoc region.  He says the
vintage favours caramel, chocolate, licorice, dark
cherry and roasted fruits."  He took another sip and
savoured it.  "The review I read of the wine said the
mouth is opulent.  I quite agree."  Okay, perhaps he
was overdoing it a bit, but he was fifteen, and wanted
so much to impress the woman he'd fallen in love with.
 Removing the cover of the fruit plate, he speared a
pitted cherry and dipping it in the bowl of melted
chocolate above the burner, he fed it to Marian.  A
bit of chocolate dribbled from the corner of her mouth
and as he wiped it off with the tip of his finger and
offered it to her to lick off, she did and they
chuckled, in part with the arousal that suddenly shot
through their loins, and in part with the nervousness
that was making both their hearts flutter.
	"Grandfather says everyone had thought Mother had
taken advantage of my father, that she had seduced
him, but that wasn't the case at all.  When they first
met it was love at first sight, on both sides.  That's
what Father says.  Mother says it was lust at first
sight."  He smiled at the thought and fed her a piece
of cantaloupe dipped in melted caramel and had one
himself.  "Just like you and me."
	Marian choked on the cantaloupe.  Putting his wine
glass down, he looked into her eyes.  "You do feel the
same way as I do, don't you?"  It was a confirmation,
not a question.  Marian opened her mouth, not sure
what to say.  She didn't have to worry about her
response.  Before she could speak, or close her mouth,
he kissed her, slipping his tongue in her mouth.  Her
pussy twitched.  She was about to pull away when he
drew her to him and pressed his lips tighter against
hers, his tongue still in her mouth, slipping over and
under hers.  A quiver of arousal ran up her vagina
with the eroticism of the oral penetration.  She had
felt lust for him the first day they'd met. She could
not deny that.  And she felt unbelievable lust for him
now, that instant, and it was not the wine or the
lavish evening and all the money he'd spent on her,
nor the hot kiss, though that all certainly
strengthened her feelings.  He began to slowly caress
her back.
	She knew she should stop him right then and there. 
She should insist he call his chauffer and take her
home, or at least make it clear from the onset that he
would be sleeping on the sofa.  What was she thinking?
 She wasn't.  There could be no onset.  Breaking their
kiss, he dipped a sundew in chocolate and holding it
between them they both nibbled on it and then kissed
again when their lips met, their breaths smelling of
garlic and chocolate and wine.  His arms slipped about
her and she slipped her arms about him, under his
jacket once again.  His silk shirt felt even sexy to
her touch and his body even firmer than before.  He
pressed his lips tighter, more passionately, spreading
his fingers over her back, and she caressed his firm
deltoids.
	Slipping his jacket off his shoulders and allowing
the expensive garment to fall to the floor, she
returned his kiss, and as he ran his hands down her
back to her waist and back up, she inhaled deeply with
nervousness and growing arousal.  She was
thirty-seven, he fifteen.  His deep brown eyes were so
sexy, his cologne so erotic.  She could be his mother.
 He was such a good kisser.  He was unzipping the back
of her dress.  She knew she should stop him.  She knew
where this was going to lead.  Her dress slipped down
off her shoulders and he drew it down.  Easing him
down on his back she half rolled on top of him,
raising her hips so that he could continue easing her
dress down.  It joined his jacket on the floor.
	As he once again began to caress her back, she untied
his silk bow tie.  It was actually tied, not one of
those snap ons.  He kissed her cheeks and neck and the
top of her breasts as she unbuttoned his shirt and
pulled it out of his trousers and slipped it off his
shoulders.  His body was smooth and muscular, the body
of a young man who watched his diet and exercised. 
Sierra Academy, the school for the gifted and talented
that he attended, ensured its pupils had a rounded
education that challenged the mind as well as the
body.  He lay on his back and looked up at her
dreamily with those deep brown eyes filled with puppy
love as she unbuckled his belt and slowly pulled down
his fly.  Unclasping the clasp of his trousers, she
tugged on them and he raised his hips so she could
ease them down.  Drawing her to him, he lie there on
his back with her on top of him and they embraced and
kissed, cocking their heads to the right and the left,
pressing their lips together as their hands massaged
each other.
	Sitting up, he quickly untied his shoes and removed
them along with his socks and trousers.  Picking up
their wine glasses, he handed her hers and clicked it
with his.  "To you, and an enchanted evening," he said
as he raised his glass to his lips and they drank.
	"And to you, my charming prince," she replied,
clicking his and taking another long swallow.
	Putting down her glass, she dipped a cherry in
chocolate and as he lay on his back she fed it to him.
 As he gazed up at her with those deep brown eyes, as
dark as the chocolate in the melting pot, she melted
with the flame burning between her legs.  His lips
were moist and cherry red, his cheeks so soft and
crimson.  He was gorgeous.  They lay there in their
underwear and fed each other as they finished the
glass of wine.  He could not help admiring her breasts
amply revealed in her lacy bra, and she could not help
dropping her eyes to the bulge evident in his tight
navy blue jockey shorts.
	"Did you know licorice was once considered an
aphrodisiac?" he asked as he dipped the melon in the
third melting pot and offered it to her.
	"I think it's working," she replied with a smile, her
body flushed and her mind spinning, not from the
alcohol but from the lust that had been welling up in
her loins.
	"Oh yes," he said, taking her hand and placing it on
his crotch.  The bulge had definitely grown.
	Their lips met again, their breaths with a mix of
chocolate, caramel, licorice and wine and still a hint
of garlic.  As Marian rolled over onto her back,
Darien reached over and shut off the flame on the
fondu burner, another flame having been ignited
between his legs.  He rolled over on top of her, his
almost naked body pressed against hers, and as she
slipped her arms about his waist he kissed her again,
firmly and passionately, and again slipped his tongue
in her mouth.  She quivered as she felt it again slide
over and around her own tongue, and she sucked it into
her mouth as she reached down and squeezed and
palpitated his firm, compact buttocks.  Of all the
attributes of a man, she loved his butt the most, and
Darien had a most attractive butt.  He kissed her
cheeks and her neck and returned to her lips, nibbling
at them and then kissing them lightly at first and
then forcefully and passionately again.
	He was a skilled lover, having been introduced to the
art of lovemaking at an early age and having had
several sexual experiences with the opposite sex
besides with his brother.  That he was no virgin was
no surprise given his looks and physique and his
charm.  His experience and skill showed as he kissed
and caressed Marian, gradually increasing her passion
gently and passionately and yet skilfully sending
shivers of desire through her body with each intimate
touch and kiss.  Marian had been introduced to the art
of lovemaking at an early age also, and although she
had been faithful to Matt these past fourteen years,
with the recent exception of Cory's two young friends,
Marian had not forgotten those skills as she similarly
fanned the flames of Darien's desires, being careful
not to go too fast knowing the hair trigger reaction
of men, and particularly youth.
	Reaching behind her and effortlessly unsnapping her
bra, evidence of his skill and experience, he removed
it and slipped his hands around and cupped her tits
and squeezed them and caressed them.  Running her
fingers over his smooth, firm pecs, she inhaled deeply
with desire as he caressed her breasts with a gentle,
caring touch.  Wiggling down, he skipped his lips over
them, kissing them reverently.  He slipped them over
her nipple and sucked on it, sending ripples of
pleasure through the teat and her breast and up her
vagina. As he sucked, she slipped her hand down and
caressed the bulge in his shorts, now fully extended
and rock hard.  He was impressibly hung for fifteen,
longer than many grown men.  She continued to stroke
the firm, thick tube of flesh as he kissed and sucked
on one nipple and then the other until she could take
no more.  Slipping her hands under the elastic band of
his underwear, she eased them down over his delightful
bubble butt, and then unhooked them from his stiff
pole and drew them down in front.
	Sitting up on the bed, she drew his underwear off and
sat there in just her panties and nylons and took in
his beauty.  He was a Greek god, a god with a smooth,
sculptured, athletic body, gorgeous jet black hair,
and below a silky pubic bush a long, firm cock with
full, low-hung balls.  She trembled with arousal at
just the sight of him, youthful and full of life, his
moist, deep brown eyes filled with lust, his manhood
standing up proud and firm, for despite his age he was
very much a man.  Their eyes locked, she slowly rolled
down first one nylon and then the other and dropped
them on the floor beside his underwear.  His eyes
slowly lowered and his chest rose and fell with
growing desire as she slipped her fingers beneath the
elastic band of her panties and slowly began to ease
them down, revealing her curly auburn hairs and then
her swollen, aroused pussy.
	Dropping her panties beside his underwear, she laid
down on top of him and they embraced and kissed,
totally naked now, their passions ignited and desire
burning in their loins. Their kisses were forceful and
filled with lust, their caresses firm and eager.  He
drew her tight against him, delighting in the firmness
of her breasts as they pressed against his naked
chest, she delighting in the firmness of his manhood
as it pressed against her flat belly.  He caressed her
firm, round buttocks, squeezing them and kneading them
as she caressed his broad shoulders and smothered him
with kisses.  His hand ran along her thighs, sending
ripples of pleasure through her loins, and she ran her
fingers over his chest, gently teasing his nipples
with her long nails and sending pangs of painful
pleasure through them.
	They rolled over and he paused and reached for his
trousers.  Taking out a tri-pack of Trojans, he took
one out and quickly rolled it down his stiff cock and
was between her legs again.  She raised her hips and
wrapped her legs about his waist as he knelt there on
knees and elbows, and as she felt his sheathed knob
press against her labia she pushed out, opening up to
him.  She was hot and ready and he was rock-hard and
eager as only a fifteen-year-old can be.  He
penetrated her with ease, his knob popping inside her
vagina with the first try.  He slowly sank down,
easing his cock up her hot, moist channel, delighting
in its heat and wetness as it enveloped his aching
cock.  He eased it all the way in, until his low-hung
balls were pressing against the cord running between
her legs, and paused to enjoy the delight of her
pulsating pussy, and to allow her the time to delight
in his penetration.
	And then he began to fuck, slowly and steadily,
easing his cock in and out of her aching cunt, and she
worked with him, constricting her muscles and relaxing
them in time with his thrusts and withdrawals.  As he
fucked he continued to kiss her, smothering her face
and neck with hot, passionate kisses.  He paused
frequently, wanting to bring her to her climax and
knowing it took a woman longer, though she was so hot
for him that night he did not have to pause long for
her to catch up to him, and more often than not had to
pause so they would both cool down.  He delighted in
the pleasure throbbing through his stiff cock, but
even more in the throbbing of her cunt, knowing the
intense pleasure she was feeling.  Twice he brought
himself to his peak and then paused, allowing the
pressure in his loins to subside.  The third time he
was ready, and he knew she was too.
	She marvelled at his skill and his patience, and as
she felt herself approaching that peak for the third
time she knew that they would go all the way.  She
gasped for breath and tensed her body as the pressure
built, as the pumping of his stiff cock in and out of
her body sent spasms of pleasure through her pulsating
vagina and up to her womb, as the width of his shaft
stretched open her labia and sent burning pleasure
through the swollen lips, as his cock brushed against
her clit and sent shocks of pleasure through her groin
and caused her to jerk her hips uncontrollably. She
massaged his naked back as his deltoids flexed and
relaxed, as his trim, muscular body rose and fell. She
inhaled again the fragrance of his spicy cologne and
closed her eyes as she felt his cock throbbing in her
cunt.  So he was fifteen and she thirty-seven.  What
matter when they felt the way they did?
	His breath, laboured and hot, blew past her cheek as
he exhaled and inhaled deeply, delighting in the
fragrance of her perfume, delighting in the throbbing
pleasure between his legs and in the building pressure
deep in his loins.  He knew she was about to cum and
held back until she cried out and arched her back with
the first wave of orgasm and then furiously pumped his
hips, driving his rock-hard cock in and out of her
pulsating pussy and delighting in the burning
sensation around the rim of his knob and the throbbing
of his shaft.  His balls drew up tight beneath his
cock and deep in his groin he felt a familiar twang
and his teenage juice raced up the core of his cock
and out the tip to become trapped in the thin condom
encasing his organ.  Shot after shot erupted from his
body and he trembled with the pleasure as wave after
wave of orgasm pulsated through her cunt at the same
time.  She pressed her body against his and wrapped
her arms and legs about him tightly as she rode the
wave of pleasure, and he threw back his head and
trembled as his juice pumped out of his tight balls
and into the pocket of the condom.  Squirt after
squirt of creamy juice spurted into the pocket and
wave after wave of pleasure pulsated through her wet,
dripping pussy.  Panting and gasping with ecstasy they
remained locked in each other's arms, his throbbing
cock grasped tightly by her pulsating cunt, as they
revelled in the pleasure throbbing through their
bodies.
	At last they separated and lay there in the canopied
bed in each other's arms.  Their passion subsided,
they exchanged tender kisses and looked dreamily into
each other's eyes, the difference in their ages
irrelevant compared to the mutual pleasure they had
just experienced and their burning desire for each
other, a desire they knew ran deep.  The medieval
clock in the Spanish plaza chimed midnight but neither
was tired.  Besides they had an almost full bottle of
Chateau Latour Pauillac, a barely touched bowl of
licorice, and two unused condoms left.        

******
Thanks to Billy for suggesting the plot in this story
and the character of Darien Wilson.  What else would
you like to see happen?  What further fun and havoc
can Cory create with his growing awareness of the
power of his great-grandfather's headband?  Have you
ever had someone you hated and wanted to get even
with?  Email me your idea and I'll write it as part of
this story and if you wish add you as one of the
characters.  Anything goes, the hotter and more
perverted the better, except I don't write snuff and
torture of kids and anything involving player
characters will need their collaboration.  Non player
characters available for your amusement and abuse
include the Gilles family, Vice Principal Stuart
Millburne, Baptist Pastor Winthrop and his family,
Kenneth Ballard and his mother, Father Henry, Calvin
Cosher and his daughter Stacey, the WCHS gang, the 14
RGAB soccer players and their families, the cops Eric
O'Malley and Mike Polanski, and Anton's RGAB
classmates.  Player characters created by readers so
far are Dominic, Terry, Anthony, Bob, Billy Dean, Ben
Hanson, Jacob Schuller, Benji Gilles and Callie Dean
with a supporting cast of Jonah, Lane and Spence,
Nicole Halder, Molly, Trang and Ashley, Nick Dawson,
Nat and Darien Wilson, Emma and Elijah Dean, Aunt Rosa
and Uncle Rafael, Juanita, Luther, and Lucy, Ramon
Carlos, and of course Lad, Rocky, Shep, Dobe and the
star of the series, Cory Wilson. 

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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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