xxx-How a Big Young Cock Fixed My Daughter’s Teeth

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By Lauren McAllister

Let’s face it; life can be pretty brutal and if you’re not a member of the one percent, you are on a one-way bobsled ride to the bottom of the economic hill. If I’d have known how expensive milk was going to get, I would’ve breastfed myself! We working folks are being forced to eat a big dirt sandwich and every year, there’s more dirt and less bread. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband and I love my kids but getting by on a single salary these days is as common as real boobs on a reality show.

So, after about 15 years of intermittent blissful marriage, it was time to transition from wiping my kids’ asses to licking my employer’s. Not that finding a derriere in need of my lingual ministrations promised to be an easy task. Majoring in ancient Greek in college wasn’t exactly going to land me a cushy position at Goldman Sachs. I’d taken a typing course in high school so an executive secretary seemed to be the way to proceed.

In the end, this guy named Arnold hired me. He wasn’t much of an executive but then again, I wasn’t much of a secretary. Arnie was a man of few charms. He wasn’t a bad sort – he just wasn’t much of a sort of anything. Picture that guy with the glasses from “Office Space”, except with no glasses and an assistant that only typed 12-14 words a minute. The gig didn’t pay much but at least it paid something. Obviously, if I didn’t need the job like Shane McGowan needs a new set of teeth, I wouldn’t have been there.

Arnie seemed to run some sort of “dating” business. I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell me. My scant duties were to type a few emails (thank God for Spellcheck!!!) and answer the phone. Once ensconced, I settled comfortably into that seemingly endless, mind-numbing routine, that drains the very will to live out of your soul, which is the hallmark of working for a living.

Alas, our financial fortunes did not improve appreciably. Kids need the darndest things and they are invariably staggeringly expensive. When Alisha came home from the dentist and announced she needed braces – I cried like Mary Tyler Moore in the “Chuckles the Clown” episode. There was just no way we were going to pull together three grand when we had to reuse our brown-paper lunch bags. Alisha was just going to have to give up smiling in daylight.

I was super bummed. And then I went to work. Stunningly, this change of venue did little surprisingly to improve my mood. I spent the day answering emails when I wasn’t weeping onto the office ficus plant. At about 4:30, Arnie got a call and it was far from glad tidings. One of this “dates” had fallen through. The girl-part of this proposed romantic assignation had suddenly canceled and his client was none-too-happy. My boss started zipping through his phone for a suitable replacement but everyone was either busy, on penicillin or in jail.
“Perhaps I could fill in,” I meekly offered.

Arnold stopped in his phone-zipping tracks. You could practically hear the wheels spinning around in his unattractive head. “This would be a very traditional date,” he warily informed me.

“Well, I’m a very traditional girl,” I smiled.

“And it would end as a lot of dates traditionally do.” The meaning of this was not lost on even someone as naïve as myself (I was married quite young and had done very little partying with the opposite sex before falling in love with Frank.).

“Oh,” I said disappointed.

Arnie was obviously desperate not to disappoint this client because he waved a carrot in my direction (no this is not a sexual euphemism – I mean, ewwwww, does Arnie even have one?).

“It pays fifteen-hundred bucks…cash, and you get to keep any gratuity that might be offered.”

Now my wheels started to turn. I had never, ever been unfaithful to Frank. Heck, I felt guilty, those few times I played with myself while reading “50 Shades of Grey.” But other wheels were telling me that fifteen hundred dollars would go a long way to fixing those unsightly daughter-teeth. And, is it being unfaithful when you’re just doing it for a noble cause and hating every minute of it? I could tell Frank it was a one-time-only bonus and we could make the shortfall up by canceling Netflix and eating dry bulk cereal. Damn those milk prices!

I could see Arnie evaluating my body, as I was considering whether to turn myself into a one-time-only whore. My house-wifely remains were in pretty good shape but I had had two children and was a working mother. I didn’t get to spend all day at the gym and the hairstylist. On the other hand, I was still in possession of all the proper equipment required for the expected dénouement of this “traditional” date.

“You are shaved…down there, aren’t you?”

I was married, for Christsakes, of course I wasn’t shaved down there.

“Of course,” I lied. “I’m as bald as a Hillbilly’s tires.”

Arnie had grave, grave misgivings but he handed me the address and instructions and sent me off to meet my fifteen-hundred-dollar dreamboat. I phoned my hubby on the way to the hotel and sort of told the truth that I’d be working very late. He said he understood and professed his undying love. Great! As if I weren’t weirded out enough. I stopped by a pharmacy on the way and picked up a feminine razor (well, it had a pink plastic handle) and a pint of Southern Comfort.
I was to book into room 203, prepare myself and then knock on the door of room 205 at precisely 9 o’clock.

Twenty minutes later, I was in a bathroom at the hotel, with my legs spread apart, clipping and shaving my tender fender for some guy I’ve never met (Sort of like a blind date, back in the old days!). Three times, I sensibly decided the whole thing was a ludicrous farce and I was going home. Then I’d take a couple more slugs of Comfort and reconsider. I was getting a little dizzy by the time I had my cleansing shower and darn right loopy when I opened the closet to check out my provided duds for the evening’s festivities (for those rare moments I would be wearing anything). I was to put it on and only it. “It” sure wasn’t much. A pretty clichéd maid’s outfit that pushed up the ladies and left my lower flanks completely uncovered and without benefit of underclothes!

I kept trying to imagine what sort of man was in the next hotel room, awaiting my services, as I squeezed and squeezed into my prostitute regalia. There were some crossed fingers that he wouldn’t be too old and portly. Not that I wanted to enjoy myself, you understand. I was just hoping that the whole sordid ordeal wouldn’t be too overly traumatic. I gazed down at my exposed lady parts and grabbed the ice bucket to somewhat conceal the naughtiest one and I woozily staggered out into the hall.

The great thing about having my entire ass hanging out of my apparel is that it forced me to knock on the door of destiny without hesitating and building up my understandable panic. Quite frankly, I felt like I was about to poop my pants. If I was wearing any. Which I wasn’t. I began to think that perhaps I should move the ice bucket around to my other orifice. Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” came the somewhat raspy reply from inside. Damn. He sounded pretty old. Not that I was looking to get plugged by a young stud, you understand. It was just…oh never mind. Knees knocking, I ventured inside.
FUCK!
It wasn’t one guy. It was four. They were all way out of shape and playing cards at a table beside the bed. I turned to leave but Ron called out. “Hey, you. If you want that 1500 bucks, you’d better fetch me a beer out of that fridge.”

Damn! He would have to mention the money that I needed so desperately. A vision of my daughter’s crooked smile lit up like a Las Vegas billboard in my brain. So…I blushed twenty-five shades of red and trotted over to get my kind employer his beverage. When I handed it to him, Ron reached up and took shocking liberties with my posterior. I was absolutely mortified.

“Would anyone else like a libation?” I queried, with Ron’s ring finger probing my sphincter. The shame and the horror of being touched so scandalously were indescribable.

“Hey nice pussy,” commented Ben, reaching over and roughly pushing his thumb against my plump outer lips. It was all I could do not to vomit all over the table.

I spent the next fifteen minutes serving drinks and being fondled beyond endurance. That’s when Mr. Charming unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis. Right in front of me! “I could use some luck,” he quite casually stated. “Why don’t you suck on the big fella until I start winning a couple of hands?”

A: It really wasn’t that big. And B: How was he ever going to concentrate well enough to win at cards while I was pleasuring him? Like a good little girl, I got down on my knees and took his Johnson into my hand. This is the first time I’d touched a man’s apparatus that wasn’t my husband’s in over 15 years. It was squishy at first (he’d had quite a few of those beers) but I massaged his disgustingly hairy balls and it began to show some signs of life. That’s when Ron roughly grabbed the back of my head and forced my face down onto the end of his genitals. I tried to think exclusively of that much needed fifteen hundred dollars I was earning and not the stranger’s erection that I had jammed between my teeth. It had been a while – actually a long while – since I’d gone down on Frank. I felt quite sick about it as I felt the head of Ron’s penis rubbing against the roof of my mouth. I kissed and sucked his thingie gently so he’d like what I was doing but he wouldn’t…you know. The thought of having him ejaculate into my mouth was more than I could bear. The other men made crude and insensitive jokes as my head bobbed up and down.

I was in the middle of administering half-hearted fellatio to Ron when I heard the door swing open behind me. Shit! There’s another one??
The guys all bade this new visitor welcome. I just kept sucking because I couldn’t find the courage to look up and show my face. What I desired didn’t seem to be of any concern to these gentlemen. Ron grabbed my hair and pulled my head off his pee-pee and turned it towards the latest arrival.

Wow! Before me stood this 17-year-old hunk. He was about six foot two and had a face as sweet as candy. This kid was adorable and here I was, a 35-year-old housewife with an old man’s willy in my hand and her own privates hanging out of her skirt. I smiled like a drunken gibbon and nodded my head like we were meeting at some church social.

“This is my son, Steven,” Ron proudly proclaimed. “It’s his birthday.”
Steven blushed. Oh dear. I was for him.

“Steven is going to be going away to college in a few months and I wanted him to be ready to give the ladies there what they’ve got coming to them,” Ron helpfully continued.

Is this guy for real? How is a kid this cute not banging every cheerleader in high school? Turns out – Boys School. Military Boys School! If he was banging anything, it sure wasn’t girls. Steven blushed again.

“Look, he’s shy,” laughed Ben. The other sophisticates joined in guffawing at the young man’s discomfort.

I guess my motherly instincts just took hold. Standing up, I got close to him and whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, baby. Just follow my cues and I will get you through this.”

He nodded his head. I could feel Steven trembling in my hands. He was a major cutie pie. These guys were such assholes for putting him through all this. I kissed him softly on the lips. The boys cheered.
“Don’t listen to them,” I whispered. “Concentrate on me.” He nodded his head again. I slowly put my tongue in his mouth and stroked the back of his neck. “I’m going to take my outfit off now. Just try and relax. I have a nice set of boobs and they’re all yours.”

Steven cracked a small smile. I felt a little tightening in my vagina. Surely, I wasn’t getting turned on by this boy who was almost young enough to be my son! A couple of zips and my maid’s outfit sprang open and dropped to the floor. I could breathe again! Steven gave the ladies a good long look. It’s one thing to stare at pictures of naked breasts on the computer while you stroke your Johnny, it’s another thing to have a real honkin’ pair right there in front of you. I held him tight and soul kissed him again, putting his hands on my ass.
“We’re going to take your shirt off now. Pretend like I’m the only one in the room. Just look at me.”

Off went his shirt. Up went the cheers. Steven stared at me, following my instructions to the letter. I got down on my knees and smiled up at him warmly and reassuringly, as I began to undo his jeans. Even with all that was going on in the room and his understandable anxiety, he still had a solid woody underneath his Fruit of the Looms (He was 17, after all.). Another cheer rang out. This time, it was in honor of Steven’s tool. It was twice the size of Frank’s 5 incher. I ran my fingers up and down its impressive length, through the cotton. His balls had already contracted a little, so I knew I had to be really careful or Stevie was going to blow his cork before he even got inside me and these jokers would never let him forget it. Pulling the waistband back, I delicately extracted that lovely, pink 10 inches of manhood and licked the veiny shaft. Yikes! The head was already twitching a little. I had to calm him down and fast.

“Let’s get you comfortable on the bed,” I suggested and deposited him on the mattress. Steven lay there like he was about to be executed. My mother’s heart was breaking. I lay down next to him and stroked his chest. His heart was racing at about 300 beats a minute.

“Suck on my tits,” I whispered.

Nothing calms a man down like returning to his first lunch. Steven feasted on my nipples as his father’s friends looked on with glee. I put the young man’s hand between my legs and moved it around, to give him an idea of what to do. Things were starting to moisten up down there nicely. He had a very gentle touch as he frolicked through my swelling labia with the tips of his fingers. God, his body was firm. I’d never fucked a soldier before but I was beginning to see why girls gravitated to a man in uniform.

The time was nigh. I rolled over, spreading my legs wide and pulled him on top of me. It would be untrue to say that that righteous 10-inch penis in my hand was not intriguing. I gently rubbed the big head around my damp, silky slit and pushed its hugeness against my tiny, tender opening. He stared straight into my eyes as I felt my aperture loosen and the first of his manliness intrude upon my modesty. The sensation of being filled up to that degree was a revelation. I grabbed his young ass cheeks and pulled him further inside my ravenous undulating vaginal canal. Another inch and then another. It felt like I was impaling myself on a fire hydrant. A little pre-cum shiver rippled through me as the hilt of his wang finally slammed against my clitoris. I so wanted to lift up my hips to meet his thrusts but I knew Steven wouldn’t last three seconds, if I did. Slowly he started to pump that big, delicious cock into me. All the way in. All the way out. I wanted to scream and moan like a poisoned dog but I lay there like a love doll, letting him screw the fuck out of me. Our audience had taken their dicks out and were slowly jerking off to our show.

Steven’s thrusting began to quicken and become more intense. He was going for it. That was my cue. I clamped my legs around the back of his thighs, stuck my tongue down his throat and proceeded to buck like a demented slut. That massive cunt stick was pummeling my womb to bits, causing my eyes to roll back in my head like I was having grand mal seizures. I could feel a megaton orgasm rising up inside me. If only I could get there before Steven shot his load.

“Fuck me!” I screamed. The cheers of the fat old men only brought me to boil quicker. I was there. I could feel my cunt clench hard around that magnificent fuck tool. Spasms so strong, I thought my exploding pussy would shatter into pieces, rocketed up my core. Steven grunted. More cock! More cock! I couldn’t get enough of that massive man meat into me.

“Fill me with your nut cum, baby,” I pleaded as oceans of his semen splurted out of his knob like he was trying to put out a fire. But, he only made the fire within me burn brighter. I started to come a second time before the first one had even subsided. My jaw slammed shut. I could hardly breathe. Noises and obscenities cascaded out of me without thought or shame. I actually sprayed the bed like the South Korean riot police as I tried to pull poor Steven up into my uterus. I wanted to feel that beauteous beast of a schlong pounding against the back of my tonsils. Alas, he was through. Stevie went limp and lay there like a dead Alsatian on top of me, the last dribbles of his spunk leaking out into my spent and oozing snatch. The gallery was
high-fiving.

“You were amazing,” I beamed up at him and stroked the back of his head.

The old guys didn’t waste much time. They pulled Steven off my stomach and took turns fucking me. Every now and again, while his father’s friends were bathing their wangs’s in my girlie juices, I’d gaze over at him. He’d look back with an apologetic look and I’d give him a thumbs up. Just to let Stevie know that things were okay.

I spent the next half an hour in the bathroom. Hey, I’d been fucked by five guys – I’m an old married woman – most nights I don’t even fucked by one. My vagina felt like I’d run a rasp over it. My tits had been mauled to the point where I couldn’t put my bra back on. I was sitting on the toilet moaning, with a towel full of ice on my whatsit, when Stevie came in. Amazingly, I was embarrassed that he was seeing me naked.

“They’ve all gone,” he shyly mumbled. “Thanks for getting me through that.”

“It may not look like it, at this second,” I winced, adjusting my soothing ice pack. “But I really enjoyed it. You that is. Your father’s friends were a little bit too much of a good thing. Ouch. You’re going to make some young lady exceedingly happy in the very near future.”

He bent down and kissed me. I kissed him back.

“The fellas asked me to give you this.” He held out a wad of cash. My gratuity! $750!

I got dressed very gingerly, had Stevie help me to my car and drove with that wonderful, soothing ice between my legs all the way home. By the time I arrived, Frank was sound asleep. I smeared every ointment I had in the medicine cabinet on my puffed-out labia and finished off the Southern Comfort.

These days I make almost two hundred grand a year helping rich men’s sons figure out how a woman’s naughty parts work…and then their fathers of course (they never can resist showing the young lad just how a real man does it). The fact that I look like a housewife and mother actually works wonders for these young men. If I was a super model, they’d either shoot it in their underwear or never be able to get it up at all.

Carissa’s teeth look amazing now and both my kids are in private school. The four of us are going to Hawaii this winter!
Luckily, I fuck a hell of a lot better than I type.

Copyright 2016 Lauren McAllister

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