Rite of Spring


Just a forewarning – this is an erotic story but there is no intercourse.  I could have written it in, but I wanted this to be exactly the way I remembered it.  This is a true story.

It was the end of that first truly hot day in spring.  The one where the insects start making noise for the first time all year, and every plant and flower is in bloom and secreting their scent full bore.  It was a perfect Sunday afternoon.  I should have been out with my friends, but I was a 14 year old boy who needed money, and babysitting for my parents’ friends the Lavelle’s was just about the only way to get it.  

Mr. Lavelle pulled into our driveway late that afternoon.  On evenings he went out with his wife he drove this totally sweet mint condition red Jaguar.  He had money and style and liked to talk about his car – a lot.  On this particular evening he told me how my first car should be a Jaguar – he said girls would be all over me and that it was a guaranteed “hand-job” car.  

When we got to their house, Mrs. Lavelle showed me what the kids should eat and gave me all the routine instructions, yada yada; I’d babysat for them before.  The kids were no problem – a girl and a boy, 5 and 3.  I’d play with them for about an hour and they’d practically pass out on their own.  

Before she left, Mrs. Lavelle told me that once the kids were in bed she didn’t care if I had a girlfriend over; she said she remembered what it was like to be a teenager.  I thought that was really cool seeing as how my mom wouldn’t even let me be alone in my room with a girl even when she was home.  

I told Mrs. Lavelle thanks but I didn’t have a girlfriend.  She said something very nice like “well that’s very surprising.”  She was a very pretty brunette, probably 35 years old, very thin, and always looked glamorous when she was going out.  Tonight she had on a red skirt with an off-white top that looked like two sashes crossing down from her bare shoulders.  She was also very friendly and sweet, in an innocent flirting kind of way, so her comment about me not having a girlfriend made me feel pretty good.  

I lamented the fact that I didn’t have a girlfriend as I let the kids tire themselves out in the backyard after their parents left.  The early evening was gorgeous, the sun was still hanging on and wonderful pre-summer smells were in the air.  I tried to think of any girls I could possibly call and invite over – but the reality of being 14, too skinny and tall and at the mercy of puberty was that even if a girl did want to come over, there was no chance of me getting any.  I had only ever even French-kissed two girls at that point.  

After the kids went to bed, I loafed on the couch and just watched TV.  The NBA playoffs were on, and I watched as Michael Jordan hit the game winning jump-shot over Craig Ehlo to give Chicago a victory in their first round playoff series against Cleveland.  There wasn’t much else on until about 11:30, when a Showtime “after-hours” movie came on.  Since the Internet wasn’t around yet, my only source of porn, albeit soft core, were the Showtime and Cinemax movies that ran after hours.  Some were really bad American semi-action, semi-porn movies (think Shannon Tweed), and some were really badly dubbed semi-edited, decently conceived European porn movies (think Emanuelle.)  

That night the movie was European - “My Swedish Aunt”.  From what I remember, it started out with this young woman traveling out to the country to spend some time with her wealthy aunt.  Before she even arrives, there is a scene where the aunt is getting it on with I think it was her horse-trainer.  Again, the dubbing was bad and the sex mostly edited, but at 14 years old I would take whatever I could get.  

When the young girl arrives, she finds her aunt in bed (alone) but naked, just waking up.  They make small talk that somehow evolves into how much the niece admires her aunt’s breasts.  Suddenly I got a raging hard-on.  Although I knew I was a big fan of porno lesbians, these movies never had incestuous undertones; I had no idea that would arouse me so much.  I was almost embarrassed for myself that the notion of incest turned me on - almost.  But these movies often stop short of showing anything, so I thought for sure my luck would run out.  

Sure enough, the aunt pats the bed and invites her niece to sit down.  I undid the belt on my shorts.  The niece sits down and begins to caress and fondle her aunt’s breasts.  I undid my zipper and pulled out my cock.  They began to kiss, and I started stroking my cock like there was no tomorrow.  The aunt spreads her legs and the girl’s hand travels down when I heard…

“Hi Eddie, we’re back…”  

It was Mrs. Lavelle.  My extreme state of arousal was replaced instantly with utter fear – I felt an acidic burn deep in my stomach as I panicked trying to put my dick back in my shorts.  But it was too late.  She walked into the family room and I stood there with evidence on screen – and in hand.  I tried to say something but nothing coherent came out of my mouth.  I was almost crying I was so scared and ashamed.  

Her reaction, surprisingly enough, was to almost to console me.  She wasn’t the least bit mad, although at the time I don’t think I really processed that fact, I just thought, “she’s an adult, she’s a friend of my mom, I am dead.” 

“Oh Eddie, I didn’t know…“ she said, looking around trying to figure out what to do.

“Mrs. Lavelle!!! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!  I just, uh, I uh…”  I totally blabbered as I continued to try and stuff my cock back into my pants.

“Oh… uh, don’t worry about it, um…”  Then there was the most awkward of all awkward pauses.  She wanted to do the right thing; I wanted to shrivel up and die.  She finally said, “Here, come here,” and took my arm.  She led me over to the bathroom just off of the family room. “You can finish, it’s all right… Gary’s in the car, he’ll wait.”  

“Oh Mrs. Lavelle, I can’t, I mean, I…” 

“No that’s OK, it’s OK.  You’re a young man, I understand, it’s perfectly OK.”  

I was still standing there holding my cock and panicking trying to stuff it in my shorts.  “No, I really can’t.  Oh my god.”  

“Eddie,” she said calmingly, “relax.  Go ahead and finish up.”  She glanced down at my cock and gave me a supportive little smile.  

The rush of adrenaline from being caught had shaken me, but not taken away my arousal.  In fact, it had intensified it.  I looked her in the eye – she had this approving look on her face – and it gave me butterflies.  I felt like I was outside of my body looking in as I turned towards the toilet and resumed stroking myself.  

“Yeah, there you go,” she said.  She reached down and lifted the toilet seat.  Now, I just assumed that she would leave and go in the other room while I finished up.  She wasn’t trying to seduce me; she didn’t appear turned on or like she couldn’t control herself.  She wasn’t even being what I would call erotic about this; it was more like she was being nice to me.  But for some reason she just stood there and watched.  I continued to stroke it as best I could, but it was too difficult to try and come with her looking on.  

“Mrs. Lavelle, I’m sorry, I really don’t think I can do it,” I said.  

“Well, OK,” she said, and paused to think.  “Here, maybe this will help.”  With that she slid the sashes of her top off her shoulders.  They fell through her arms and down to her sides.  I was looking at my first real-life pair of breasts.  I was in shock and could not stop staring.  

“Don’t stop.  Keep going,” she encouraged.  I was trying, but it was really too much.  My brain was trying to process seeing live breasts for the first time and I still could not focus with her looking at me.  I couldn’t even speak anymore.  

“Do you like them?” She asked, her voice more like a shy debutante’s than an experienced older woman’s.

I wanted to say they were the most beautiful, glorious things I’d ever seen.  They were not big like a porn stars, but they were shapely and perfect.  And they were so real – real as in right there in front of me.  I could see that her skin was lightly freckled all over and pale, milky white around the actual breasts.  Her nipples looked like beautiful raspberries – I wanted to feel them on my tongue.  I wanted to tell her all of this.  

The sound that came out of my mouth was “Varfluumff.”

At that point she must have known I wasn’t going to be able to make myself come, because she said, “Here, let me help,” and moved next to me, under my right arm (I was almost a foot taller than she was) and actually took my cock in her hand.  “Come on now, Eddie.  You can do it.”  

I think all I said for the next 30 seconds was “oh my god,” about 500 times, over and over again.  Her breasts were now out of view, but I could see her elegant fingers and feel that they were a little bit cold despite the warm weather outside, as she gently squeezed and rapidly stroked my throbbing cock.  I wanted to touch her tits so badly too, and figured that now anything was game.  We were facing the same way - my right arm was resting on her right shoulder, so I slid my hand down on to her chest.  

“Oooh, yeah, that feels good.  Come on now, do it for me,” she encouraged.  Even then I think I knew I wasn’t really sexually pleasing her by touching her; she was saying it to help get me off.  

So I cupped her breast, felt its weight and softness, fondled it and pinched the nipple, and ran my hand flat across to her other breast to do the same.  I remember thinking I wanted to remember every small detail about it.  And how I wanted it to last forever.  But her ministrations were too good.  

It started way down in my bowels.  Its electric branches reached into my thighs, my stomach, my chest, my neck and my ears.  I took a deep breath.  I could smell the flowers in their backyard.  I heard the Swedish aunt cooing on the TV in the other room.  I felt my pulse throbbing in my neck, chest and cock.  I clutched her breast in my hand, the nipple between my thumb and index finger.  I took one last look at her fingers.  

“Yeah, that’s it,” she whispered.

My eyes were closed when I exploded.  I actually heard the first come shot drill into the raised seat of the toilet.  Mrs. Lavelle angled me down so the remaining shots went into the water.  And it was a good thing, too – ropes and ropes of semen just poured out of me like a fountain.  My legs buckled and I had to hold on to her to stay up.  

“There you go,” she said as she continued to jerk me until I was all done.  She squeezed the head of my cock to get the last drops out and then got some toilet paper to start cleaning the seat.  Then, much to my dismay she slid her top’s sashes back up.

I still couldn’t talk. I was out of breath and woozy.  When she let go of my cock, I instinctively put it right back into my shorts.  It was much easier this time since it was on its way down.  

“You better get going,” she said, smiling.  I nodded my head and turned for the door, slipping and almost falling down.  “Eddie,” she said, “tell him you fell asleep and I had to wake you up.”  

Brilliant.  She was absolutely brilliant.  “Thanks,” I managed to say, and it came out all fucked up because I needed to clear my throat. “Bye.”  

“Bye,” she said, and winked.  

The whole thing had taken less than five minutes from when she walked into the house - probably even closer to three.  So the lie I told her husband about having fallen asleep worked well.  No big deal, he said, and proceeded to talk on and on about his car as he drove me home.  We finally pulled in the driveway, and as I was getting out I said, “A hand-job car, you say?”

“You got it.”  

“Yeah,” I thought to myself, “I got it.”  

From that day on, Mrs. Lavelle was the woman of my dreams.  I had stupid teenage fantasies of her calling me at home and asking me to come over, or of her letting me take her to a school dance, or of things going differently that night where she drives me home and we fuck in the Jaguar.  But nothing ever happened with her ever again.  I babysat for them a few times after that night, and I was always so nervous around her.  She would always come in to get me while her husband waited in the car when they got home, but there was never any kind of repeat performance.  She did ask me the very next time with a wink if there were any interesting movies on, but I had no idea how to answer her.  I gave a half-a-second thought to letting her “catch” me again one time, but I didn’t have the guts to go through with it.  I am just forever grateful to her for being the first woman to make me come. 

*****

There's no money in this - your feedback is my payment. If you liked it or want to chat, please drop me a line: Nitetimeguy74@yahoo.com

