She moved his hand way up her leg. His fingers pressed against her warm crotch. She moaned softly, moved his hand down, then back up, moaning again. Her hips arched off the chair.
"Are you thirsty?" she said. She let go of his hand and sat up to take a drink of lemonade.
Ethan snatched his hand back and pressed both over his lap, keeping his legs squeezed together.
"Yeah," he said. He swallowed and his throat was dry.
She handed him his glass. As he tilted it back to drink, Mrs. Thorn removed her bikini top and lay back, stretching her arms over her head. Ethan coughed and sputtered, spilling lemonade down his chin to his bare chest.
"Could you do my front side really good? My husband likes it when I don't have any tan lines," she said.
Ethan could not move. The condensation from the glass dripped on his leg, but he could not take his eyes off her chest. She wiggled her butt in the chair and they jiggled. The pink nipples at the tips were hard points.
Ethan put down the glass and picked up the bottle of lotion. He held it out, but hesitated. Should he put his hands right on them, or should he start on her belly? Would she be mad if he touched them? He started on her belly, just to be safe, but stared at her chest. He rubbed the lotion in small circles over her belly button. Her butt wiggled and she made soft moaning noises.
"Let me help," she said, and reached for the bottle of lotion.
She held it upside down and let the white lotion dribble on her chest. The drops landed with a splat. Ethan's mouth fell open. She closed the cap and set the bottle on the table.
"Now spread that around for me, honey," she said.
Ethan looked at his hands. She wanted him to put them on her chest. He held them out over each breast, closed his eyes and lowered them.
"Oh yes, Ethan," she said.
He groaned. They were so soft. He rubbed his hands lightly over them, then squeezed. He groaned again and shifted uncomfortably.
Mrs. Thorn's hand touched his knee. Ethan froze except for his hands. Her fingers moved slowly up his leg to the bottom edge of his shorts. He was sure she would stop there, but she didn't. Her hand moved over the front of his shorts, right over his hard thing.
"My goodness, Ethan. You've certainly grown up big and strong," she said.
Ethan's eyes rolled shut. Her hand moved back and forth along his thing, squeezing. Her hand felt good, much better than when he did it, just like Pam said. Then her hand was gone. Mrs. Thorn sat up.
"Would you like more lemonade?" she said.
Ethan started to speak but had no voice and cleared his throat.
"Yes ma'am" he said.
She picked up the two empty glasses and started toward the house.
"Come on inside with me, honey." She opened the sliding glass door. He was still sitting on the edge of the lawn chair, his hands over his lap. She looked over the tops of her sunglasses. "What are you waiting for?"
Ethan stalled as long as he could. He stood up slowly, his hands covering the front of his shorts. His penis shifted on its own and popped out of the inner part of the swim trunks. It pushed outward against his hands, hanging out the leg of his shorts. He walked toward her stiffly and could feel cool air blowing on the tip.
"Move your hands, Ethan," Mrs. Thorn said. "Don't hide it, hon. A tool like that is something to be proud of."
Ethan slowly lowered his hands. Mrs. Thorn smiled.
"There you go."
She went inside. He followed and closed the door. She refilled both glasses with a pitcher of lemonade, opened a bottle of brown stuff with a black label, and poured a bit into each glass. She stirred his with her finger, licked her finger, and handed him the glass.
"Try that."
Ethan took a sip and coughed. It burned his throat.
"Too strong? Let me fix that for you, dear," Mrs. Thorn said. She took his glass, raised it to her lips and tilted her head back. The lemonade spilled over her cheeks and chin, down on her bare breasts, and all the way down her legs to the floor. Ethan's mouth fell open.
Mrs. Thorn let out a big, refreshed sigh and set the glass down. She leaned back against the counter with her hands on the edge. Her eyes looked down at the front of his shorts.
"Show it to me, Ethan."
"Wh-What?"
She pointed to his groin. "I want to see what you got in them trunks, son."
Ethan's breath caught in his throat.
"Don't be nervous, now. Just show it to me."
Ethan's hands were shaking. He tried to think of what he should do, but his mind was a blank. He hooked his thumbs over the elastic band at the waist.
"Just take them all the way off. It'll be easier that way," she said. Her fingers teased her nipple.
Ethan hesitated. "What will be easier?"
"Fucking. You do want to fuck me, don't you? Because, honey, I can't wait to get that tool up my slot."
Her hand slipped down into the tiny bikini bottoms. Her legs spread. Ethan couldn't tell what she was doing there. He just watched the way her fingers moved under the thin fabric. He pushed his shorts to the floor and stepped out.
Mrs. Thorn sighed and her eyes widened.
"Oh, sugar, you are all man. Don't let anyone tell you different. Now bring that tool over here for me."
He walked toward her across the kitchen, his wet, bare feet slapping on the linoleum floor. His penis was so hard it ached, and it swung in front of him with every step like some misshapen appendage.
Mrs. Thorn held out her hand and let his thing glide into it. Ethan flinched. She closed her fingers around it and stroked slowly.
"Good Lord, Ethan. You're going to make a lot of girls happy with this, let me tell you."
"Happy how?"
Mrs. Thorn looked confused. "Have you never done this, son?"
"No, ma'am," Ethan said. He didn't want to admit he had no idea what she was talking about.
Mrs. Thorn chuckled as she took off the bikini bottoms.
"I guess we're both in for a special treat today."
She set her feet apart, put her hand on her crotch and spread herself open. Ethan stared between her legs. She had a small patch of curly hair down there, and a moist, pink area between her fingers. Was that what Pam meant by a pussy?
"Bring it here, Ethan," she said. Her voice was low and hoarse.
He took a step closer. She put her hand around his thing, raised it and pointed the tip at the tiny, pink area between her legs. She pulled. He moved closer. She put one hand on his shoulder and hooked one leg around his hip. The end of his thing touched that pink area. He gasped. It was warm and wet. Part of it sunk into her.
"Now push, hon. Just push slow," she said.
Ethan pushed with his hips. The flared end of his penis disappeared inside her. They both groaned at the same time. He pushed again. Mrs. Thorn squealed and bit her lower lip. Her eyes were squeezed shut.
"Oh sweet Jesus," she said.
This was what Pam was trying to tell him. A girl's pussy was warm and wet and tight and smothered his penis. She never could have explained how good it felt. He only could have found out by doing it like this.
Ethan put a hand on each of Mrs. Thorn's hips and pushed himself forward. Her body seemed to resist him, but when he squeezed her hips and pulled her toward him, his penis slowly sunk deeper.
"Oh God ... Oh God, Ethan," Mrs. Thorn cried. She hugged him tightly to her body. Her chin rested on his shoulder and she moaned in his ear. She ran her hands down to his lower back.
"That's deep enough. Fuck me now, sweetie. You know how to do it," she whispered in his ear.
Ethan was still for a few seconds, panting, trying to sort out everything that was happening. His thing felt like it was going to explode. He could not think how to describe being enveloped by the warmth and wetness of her body. Her long legs were wrapped around him, her big, soft breasts were pressed flat against his chest, and her hands were running over his back and butt.
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