Mrs. Thompson Gives Me My First BJ


When I turned eighteen, I was a typical lanky young man, in good health and sex hormones out of control.

I found a job as pool boy at an upscale condominium. My job was to keep the swimming pool clean, clean the filters check the chlorine, etc. I had to pick up around the pool empty beer bottles and cans, line up the chaise lounges neatly, that sort of thing. There was a lot of landscaping around the building and part of my job was cutting the grass, pulling weeds, trimming hedges and generally keeping the place looking neat and well cared for. Sometimes one of the condo owners needed a hand, like moving furniture around a room–something like that. They usually slipped me a tenspot as a “tip” for my trouble. In time, I was on a first name basis with nearly everyone living there.

I usually worked steadily every day, but there were quite a few days were I had caught up with the work and had nothing else to do for a while.

When there wasn’t much to do, I usually hung out in the store room where the lawnmower, pool supplies and other things connected with my job. And when I hung out in the storeroom, my thoughts would turn to visions of carnal delight with Mrs. Margaret (call me Maggie) Thompson.

Mrs. Thompson was actually a widow, and, in my opinion, even if she was old, she was the hottest, best looking, sexiest, longest-legged, nice-est-titted, perfect-assed, best dressed woman in the condominium complex. Maybe even in the whole world. Of course, I was still a virgin and had no basis of comparison.

She had some men friends whom she dated, mostly old guys in their forties or fifties by the look of them. I wondered what she did on those dates. Sometimes when I was tending the pool in the morning, I’d see her return from her date of the night before. Her dark hair was mussed, clothes were wrinkled, lipstick smeared, sagging nylon stockings. She looked very tired–but happy. If she noticed me she would give me a slightly weaker version of her usually dazzling smile and say, “Hi, Steve.”

Sometimes she brought a woman home with her in the afternoon. They were always younger–around my age, or a little older–and good looking. I know they stayed the night, because they usually left the next morning about the time I came to work.

Mrs. Thompson–I felt funny calling her Maggie–was one of those who periodically wanted to change the “look” of a room, even if all it meant was rehanging pictures in different parts of the room. She would give me a twenty dollar tip when I helped her, but I would have been happy even if she gave me nothing. Just being around her was like being in heaven. Sometimes when I helped around casino oyna her apartment she wore nothing more than panties and bra. The first time I saw her like that, I almost came in my pants. If she ever noticed the bulge of my hard-on, she never let on.

She was friendly enough, too. Most times when I was working around the pool and she was catching some sun, or even if she was just walking by, she’d stop and chat for a few moments. Over a period of time, she learned from these little chats, that I was saving my money for college, could drive a stick-shift, liked chocolate ice cream, was the oldest of three boys, had no girlfriend, was a virgin, and a lot of other things that come out in conversation. She had let it slip that she was forty-six but her being old didn’t matter to me. Especially when sometimes she looked at me in certain way. Appraising, maybe.

She had some kind of business, real estate, where she went most days. She always wore a woman’s business suit and carried a slim briefcase. When I heard the “tock tock” of her high heels on the concrete walkway, my hormones raged and I had to make a quick trip to the storeroom to jerk off into the starchy-stiff hand towel I kept just for that purpose. Very often, I would shoot two loads into the towel before my hard-on went down and I could think clearly again.

One afternoon, I just finished putting away some things in the storeroom and was locking the door before I went home to my rented housetrailer, when I heard the familiar, “tock tock” of her high heels and turned to look at her. She was in her business woman’s suit, coming home from work. She called out and waved me over, then disappeared into her apartment.

I went in through the open door and closed it behind me.

“In here, Steve,” she called from her bedroom. Maybe she wanted me to turn her mattress again.

Mrs. Thompson was in her bedroom in the act of removing her business clothes while I stood there watching.

“Let me get out of these clothes, Steve. She had her jacket off and was undoing the buttons of her blouse. She tossed the blouse toward the jacket on the bed and removed her skirt and tossed that, too, onto the pile. Her brassiere had hooks in the front; after she took it off and tossed it at the pile, she massaged her breasts for a few seconds, sighing in relief.

Next, she lowered her panties, stepped out of them and tossed them on the pile.

I could smell her, a not unpleasant smell that brought an avalanche of carnal triple x images in my mind which included me and Mrs. Thompson.

It was not the first time I had seen her in her underwear. It was the first time I slot oyna had seen her naked breasts and the first time I had seen the dark hair between her legs. She still had her nylon stockings on and as I watched with my heart beating hard, she unfastened the garter belt clips from the dark tops of her stockings. She removed the garter belt, then sat on the edge of her bed and removed the stockings from her long, shapely legs.

She motioned me over to her and I moved from the bedroom doorway and stood before her like a domestic animal, wondering what would happen next.

“Steve,” she said, “I see how you look at me, so I know you find me attractive.”

My mouth was dry and I managed a hoarse whisper, “Uh huh.”

“I’ve been looking at you the same way,” she said, smiling up at me. “And that’s a nice bulge you have there,” she pointed at it. “I know what you want, Steve. I want the same from you. Okay?”

I nodded dumbly and she smiled.

“Well, are you going to let me see it?” she said brightly.

I unzipped my pants and my iron-hard cock was in the open, just inches from her beautiful face.

She said she knew what I needed. She held my dick near the base and that was all it took to send me over the edge. My cock began squirting sperm in powerful streaks. The first one struck her in the center of her red lips. Startled, she instinctively jerked her head back, then licked her lips.

Mrs. Thompson’s face registered surprise and delight. She pointed my squirting cock to her chest and stared in fascination as ten more streaks of my seed splattered on her. I felt lightheaded as I emptied my balls on her. When I was finished cumming, she held my still hard cock and pointed it at her mouth. A final drop of my semen was poised at the tip of my cock and she licked it off. “Mmm,” she moaned. My knees nearly buckled.

The cum that spotted and streaked her chest began running down her breasts and between them. Mrs. Thompson smeared my fresh cum around her breasts, making them shine.

“Wow, Steve,” she said. “Can you do that again?” There was a tone of admiration in her voice.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “Mrs. Thompson, I need to sit down.”

“Yes, of course, Steve.” She patted the bed beside her. “Are you all right, Steve.” I heard concern in her voice.

“I guess I never came so hard before,” I said, grinning crookedly.

“Oh, how sweet of you to say that; I’m flattered. I’ve wanted to get you in my bed since I first saw you,” she said. “But I was afraid you’d think I was too old. Today I couldn’t stand it anymore. You must think I’m bad.”

I chuckled and said, “I always thought you would canlı casino siteleri think I’m too young.”

“We’re talking too much, Steve,” she said getting to her feet. She stood naked before me, the dark hair between her legs was inches from my face. Her smell was stronger now and it excited me in a way I had never felt; I wanted to lick her cunt and taste her; it was one of my jack off fantasies.

Mrs. Thompson pushed my shoulders back until I was lying on her bed with my feet still on the floor. She took off my shoes and socks, unbuckled my pants, tugged them at the cuffs, and pulled them off of me. My shorts came off at the same time. She had a different look on her face, zombie-like.

“I’m all sweaty, Mrs. Thompson. Maybe I should take a shower, uh, first.”

“I want you just as you are she said,” almost whispering.

She fell on top of me and kissed and licked my face. I could hear her breath whistling through her nose as she licked my chest and sucked my nipples. She buried her nose in my armpit and I felt her tongue licking there. She was going at me like locusts on a field of grain.

I lay there, a little scared by her passion but that had passed by the time she licked her way to my crotch and sucked my balls and licked the place between my balls and my thighs. She made murmuring, grunt-like sounds as she licked and sucked my sweaty sack. When she lifted my legs high in the air and I felt her tongue licking my ass hole, I knew I was going to cum again very soon.

She must have been reading my mind because suddenly she covered my cock with her mouth. I though I would melt. I was getting my first blowjob!

Her head moved slowly and steadily up and down on my shaft. Her tongue was working miracles on the underside of my cock. I was able to enjoy only a minute or two of Mrs. Thompsons mouth on my cock, before I started squirting.

She must have sensed I was about to explode and she stopped sucking me, held the head of my cock in her mouth and the shaft steady with her hand. Her eyebrows raised as the first jet of cum hit her tongue. She made little sounds of pleasure as each rope of semen entered her mouth.

When I finished, Mrs. Thompson rolled back and lay on the floor with her knees up. With one hand she held her cunt open, using two fingers. Her other hand was moving like a blur on her clit. Then her face screwed up like she was being tortured. Her legs suddenly clamped together and her back arched up off the floor. She made the kind of sounds someone makes when they are being tortured. Then she just went limp and lay before me spread eagle, her chest heaving. A smile appeared on her face and she pulled herself up from the floor.

“We can shower now, Steve. And then I’ll feed you,” she said.

That was how I got my first blowjob, but it wasn’t all I got. Mrs. Thompson got me to “help” her pretty regularly after that.

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