How to Adore an Older Woman

Chapter One-2

“Oooooooh…” Ken emitted a long, blissful groan.

As his climax neared, Margery forced Ken’s legs apart, sending the well-lubed middle finger of her left hand into his rectum. Ken’s body jerked as her middle digit wormed inside, pressing his prostate gland.

An electro-chemical reaction similar to lightning ripped through Ken’s neural pathways. His brain went suddenly aflame in a burst of energy so blinding it seemed to blot out everything in existence except for Margery’s hands and his upright c**k.

“AAAHHH!” Ken screamed. “UUUAAHH!”

Semen spurted from Ken’s p***s with explosive force, firing over the sink to spatter the bathroom mirror, a full eighteen inches away. Still another voluminous spurt was followed by a series of lesser spurts, until it all slowly tailed off. Ken whimpered mindlessly as Margery pinched, pulled, tugged and squeezed, milking every seminal strand from his virile young glands.

When it was over, she released Ken’s shrinking organ and withdrew her finger from his bottom with a pop. After washing her hands, she patted him on the rump, kissed his forehead tenderly, and said:

“That’s a good boy, Kenneth. We’re going to do this every morning before school. I’ve always been bi-s****l, and you can see I know what I’m doing. You’ll like having me masturbate you, won’t you?”

Ken could hardly believe his ears.

It was a dream come true!

“Yes, Aunt Margery,” he answered. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Margery pulled down the cups of her gorgeous satin bra to expose her creamy n*****s.

“Your mother said I could let you suck my n*****s a bit, if you wish. Would you enjoy that?”

Ken trembled at the sight of the succulent points. In six years of daily contact, he had never before seen them.

Until now.

“Yes, Aunt Margery,” Ken breathed. “I’d love that.”

Margery allowed Ken a few tentative kisses and a small amount of exploratory sucking, before he settled down to fasten on them like a baby, first one and then the other. The disappointment on Ken’s face was plain when she abruptly closed up shop.

“That’s enough for now. Finish up in here and get ready for school. Before you go out, be sure you clean the mirror. Your mother has a nice breakfast of bran cereal, milk, fresh apricots, and lemon yogurt ready for you.”

Half in a daze, Ken cleaned the mirror with a washcloth and completed the remainder of his toilet. During breakfast, there was no discussion of the new morning arrangement. The only remark came after Ken had left for school. Miriam told Margery that sons evidently followed their fathers in certain intimate matters.

***

Ken was in his senior year of college when his mother perished in a traffic collision, leaving a substantial estate behind. Miriam White’s will stated that her partner Margery would inherit one third of her property and her son Kenneth the rest.

At the funeral, Miriam’s son and lover shared tears and a pew closest to the bier. The mourners included dozens of members of the Church of Cybele, the Gyneco-supremacist neo-pagan faith that counted Miriam White as a respected and influential parishioner.

Beyond that, there were relatives and a large coterie of grieving friends. Among her other charities, Miriam White had been a dedicated champion of Women’s Rights.

As it happened, Women outnumbered men at Miriam’s funeral service by a ratio of nine to one. Although most of her adult life had been devoted to Feminist causes, those who knew Miriam agreed that she had been a wonderful, doting mother to a sensitive boy like Ken.

After the reading of the will, Ken and Margery parted company. Nevertheless, Margery promised to keep in touch with him as circumstances permitted. Margery always felt that her first loyalty was to Miriam, her lover and patron. Still, she had grown very fond of her lover’s son.

The year before she died, Miriam had asked Margery to let her son try to manage on his own, at least for a while, in the event of her untimely death. Though given to mannish attire and a short, boyish style to her greying locks, Miriam White had been the “Wife” in their gay marriage.

“There is one more thing,” Miriam said to Margery, as they prepared for bed one evening. “My will states that Kenny can’t claim his full inheritance until he shows that he can properly submit to a woman, just as his father submitted to me during our marriage.”

“It shall be as you say,” Margery answered, smiling at Miriam. Ken’s mother leaned forward, kissing her spouse passionately. Their tongues went in and out of each other’s mouths. Breaking the kiss, Miriam said:

“If he can’t handle himself, I wouldn’t mind particularly if you married him, dear. You’re really not that far apart in age. Thirteen years wouldn’t raise an eyebrow in our sexist society if the roles were reversed. I love Kenneth but you know how a boy needs a firm hand.”

“That’s what I’ve been giving him,” Margery replied, curling her fingers around an imaginary c**k.

The Women dissolved in laughter, not stopping until they got into bed and resumed their tender embraces.

Because Miriam White had requested Ken be given a chance to strike out on his own, after the funeral Margery gathered up her belongings and told Ken that she would be moving to a new residence in the city suburbs. On her way out the door, she fondly kissed him goodbye.

“The things you need to go through, you need to go through on your own, Kenneth,” Margery told him.

“But I don’t want you to leave!” Ken cried.

Margery shook her head. “Alas, Kenneth, I must. It is for the best. Besides, I am only respecting your mother’s wishes in this regard. Farewell.”

With that, Margery left Ken to his own devices. As soon as she was gone, he threw himself down on his bed and wept bitter tears.

***

Because he was equal parts naive and reckless, Ken soon fell into habits of dissipation. For example, he quit the study of business accounting to focus on creative writing at Slateville State University, a foolish decision if ever there was one. Fortunately, his mother’s will parceled money to Ken a wee bit at a time while he was in school. Therefore, he couldn’t blow his inheritance spectacularly, but he did manage to waste the smaller sums that came into his hands.

The most serious incident occurred after Ken graduated, when he took up with a couple of trashy Female con artists, the Dills sisters.

Phyllis and Luella Dills came west from Kentucky not long after he received his degree in Comparative Literature. They moved into a mobile home in the same trailer park where Ken lived.

Red-headed Phyllis was the younger of the pair. Ken met her when she came to visit dressed in a sexy negligee. She asked to borrow, of all things, a cup of sugar. Ken was unable to resist the woman’s shady Feminine wiles. Within two hours of meeting Ken, she had him in her trailer, on his knees between her legs, licking her soft, pink p***y.

This took place in the bedroom of the small single-wide Phyllis and Luella rented. Phyllis was thrilled to discover that she could easily manipulate the pliant youth.

There Ken was, happily licking away, when he heard the front door slam. He started to raise his head but Phyllis told him to remain in place and keep right on licking her.

“It’s just my sister,” Phyllis said. “Don’t you stop what you’re doing for her.”

Nervously, Ken went back to work, sending his tongue deep in the moist, red-haired crevice between her legs. She tasted dandy! There was one morsel could Ken imagine that might taste sweeter, but he dared not think of it.

For a solid, well built gal, Phyllis was remarkably tight. Slowly, Ken worked his tongue all the way inside while his nose rubbed her c******s.

“Oh, Phyllis!” Ken heard Luella say, from somewhere behind him. “Ain’t that our neighbor from across the way?”

Phyllis answered yes, it was their neighbor from across the way, meaning Ken.

“You’re back to your old tricks again, baby sister,” Luella said, not at all in jest. Ken heard Luella slam a bag of groceries down on the kitchen table.

This time Phyllis didn’t answer her sister.

“Don’t forget why we had to leave Kentucky, Phyllis. It was because you were screwing practically every guy in town from the Mayor on down,” Luella added.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Phyllis said. “But for a Mama’s boy, our neighbor here eats p***y mighty good.”

Phyllis opened her legs wide to let a gusher of her juice drench Ken’s face. It had an enticing backwoods tang.

“You should try him too,” Phyllis said to Luella. “He’s gooooood.”

The Women proceeded to have a conversation about Ken as if he wasn’t in the room.

“He done told me all about himself,” Phyllis said, as she braced for another orgasm. “His Mama died a while back and he’s been alone ever since.”

“Poor feller.” Luella kicked off her high-heeled leather boots and poured herself a knock of bourbon. She came over and stood next to Ken.

Naked, Ken knelt at the foot of the bed. Although it was a queen size, the bed was still barely big enough for the two sisters. As a curvy six footer with a pile of bleached blond hair, Luella loomed over the kneeling Ken.

Once Ken heard the word “zaftig” used in a German Lit seminar to describe a big, healthy woman with large breasts who worked in a beer hall as a server. The description fit Phyllis and Luella to a “T.”. They had the full figures, long legs, strong arms, and giant boobs of zaftig femme fatales.

“Yikes,” Luella said, looking down at Ken’s stiff c**k. “For such a sissy he sure is hung like a horse.”

“Yep. I noticed it too,” Phyllis answered. Phyllis lifted her behind off the bed and told Ken to lick her anus.

Ken obeyed instantly. His c**k, massively erect from all the excitement, throbbed most alarmingly. He was afraid he might spurt his load right then.

Luella seemed to sense his need, because she crouched down and grasped his balls in the hand that wasn’t holding the bourbon.

“Easy there, big feller,” Luella said, twisting his ball sac to preclude his ejaculation. “Don’t go squirting your jizz on our brand new bedspread.”

Meanwhile, Phyllis guided Ken’s mouth to her c******s. He took the sharply erected bud between his lips.

“He says his dyke Mama used to have her dyke Wifey jerk him off in the morning before school,” Phyllis said. “That way he wouldn’t be tempted by the chicks.”

“Very clever,” Luella said. “And mighty kinky.”

Phyllis nodded while panting with pleasure from Ken’s dutiful service to her engorged bud.

“Did you like getting jerked?” Luella said to Ken.

“Oh yes,” Ken said, pausing in his labors. “But since Margery left, I’ve been very lonely.”

Luella took a big gulp of bourbon, staring at him. Ken had been told many times that he had a nerdy voice like the political columnist, George Will. Had he worn glasses and imitated Mr. Will’s doofus taste in apparel, he would have resembled the syndicated columnist physically as well.

Luella put down her drink and toyed with his balls some more, handling him much like his Aunt Margery had once handled him.

“Today is a school day, ain’t it?” Luella said to Phyllis.

Phyllis slammed her p***y into Ken’s face, laughing. In the throes of an orgasm, Phyllis screamed like a banshee. A blast of her hot juices sprayed Ken’s face a once again.

“Yep. It’s a school day, a good old golden rule day,” Phyllis sing-songed, laughing hysterically.

Luella removed her clothes, revealing a strong, fleshy figure with giant breasts. Her dark brown n*****s looked to be about the size of tea saucers. Luella fingered the front of her mound, where a pinkish slit was nearly lost in a tangle of dense brown curls.