Homecoming

Orgasms are something I just can't seem to get enough of. I'm not sure why anybody wouldn't want to have as many as they can. They're just so glorious and mind altering, and they create a bond with your partner that's so deep and fulfilling. The first orgasm with my swimmer boy, the one I had sitting on him with his cock way up in me and my breasts in his hands and one of my thick nipples between his teeth, it was a beautiful one. Special. The way only a few are. It started with my head back and my stomach all tight. The muscles inside me played with that nice cock almost the way my hands would have done, all squeezy and tight. As my favorite pulses of energy took over my muscles I looked down at my dreamy boy. His excited eyes looked into mine and his mouth gave up my breast, leaving his shiny wetness on it. He looked amazed that I was cumming. I started to shudder and I lost track of him, my whole being lost in the dream for a few moments. My legs were shaking and my hands went to them. My eyes suddenly focused again, looking at my swimmer boy, the surprise on my face making him smile.

"Wwwow!" I said, holding my twitchy thighs still as best I could. "So good...So good." I lowered my head and kissed him while my insides squeezed his hardness. "That was so nice, baby. I haven't cum that nice in a while. Wanna fuck me hard now? I wanna feel all that training you've been doing in the pool."

I was up and repositioned for doggy style before my swimmer boy knew what was going on.

"Holy shit!" he said.

I laughed. "You like it, baby? You like my ass like this?"

"Yeah!" he said.

I giggled again at his wide eyes. When I asked him he said it was his first time doggy style, but it was his favorite thing to watch on porn. I told him I was his porn girl and he groaned when he slipped every inch of himself into me. I told him to fuck me hard, but it took a little guidance to get him moving like those porn men he'd been watching. When the rhythmic thudding sound of our bodies slapping together rang out in my little room he cried out in joy. I taught him how to keep it going and then pummel me from time to time. That's when I cried out in joy.

My dark-haired swimmer boy visited me six more times over the course of two weeks, but then he started dating his English Lit girl. He was disappointed when I told him we'd have to stop, but he realized it was for the best if he wanted to make a relationship work with his new girlfriend. He still stops and chats when he's passing by if I'm out in the garden. We sit on my front steps if he has time, and he tells me about his girl.

"She likes it slow, like you do," he said, "and she really likes it from behind, too, you know, sorta hard."

"Well you're perfect for each other then, because that's your favorite, right?"

"You could tell?"

I smiled. "Your enthusiasm was contagious."

"That's good, right?" he said.

I patted his hand, like a mother reassuring her child. "It's very good."

—

September is football season at the University. My good friend Joan, an enthusiastic fan, sometimes asks me to join her for a game when her husband can't go. He works at the University and he and Joan have terrific season tickets just a few rows behind the home team bench.

"I wish they'd let them all play, at least a little," I said. I was watching the second and third string players, sitting down on the far end of the bench, their uniforms unsoiled, their hair free of sweat.

"If we get far enough ahead Coach'll put 'em in," Joan said. She smiled at the way I was looking at the un-played boys. "You want us to win, right?"

"Sure. It must be hard on them, that's all."

I recognized a few of the boys on the team from their walks past my garden to the practice field. One of them was sitting on the un-played end of the bench. Sandy brown hair in a curly mop, with chubby cheeks and an overall cherub-like face. He was big, but leaner than some of the biggest boys, so I wondered if he was an offensive player, maybe a runner or a catcher, or something like that.

"Running back," the curly-haired boy said, two days later, answering my question. He looked around my garden and asked, "What's that plant?"

"Colocasia. Most people call it Elephant's Ear." I walked over next to it so the running back could get a true idea of the massive size of the leaves. I stood like a soldier, with my arms straight at my sides, my shoulders back and my chest out. "Pretty big, huh?"

I was wearing a spaghetti strap top that day, I guess you could call it a yoga top, tight and stretchy, with a scoop neck, in a nice shade of lavender. It was much too warm a day for a bra. The running back's eyes didn't seem too interested in the Colocasia plant.

"I read somewhere the dinosaurs used to eat them," I said. "Do they look good enough to eat?" My breathing was suddenly a little heavier and my bosom was heaving, thick nipples pushing at the stretchy fabric.

"Yeah. I mean...dinosaurs? Really?"

"Maybe," I said. "Who knows?"

I asked him when the next game was. He said, "Saturday." I asked him if he had a free hour or two to help me move my daylily. We did it on Wednesday, and that night, just after 10 PM, he knocked on my back door.

When I told him I knew the athletic director's wife I saw quiet panic in his eyes. He almost left. I reassured him it was just a matter of discretion — I wanted to maintain my good standing in the neighborhood just like he wanted to stay in the good graces of his coach. What happened inside the walls of my little house was nobody's business but ours.

A beer helped him to relax. We sat at my kitchen table and he snuck glances at the bright red bra under my blouse. I asked him to tell me more about his high school team.

"We were nine and one last year. I made All County and All State. That's when coach called me and started recruiting me."

"So what's the problem with the girlfriend situation?" I asked. "Nobody serious at home, and, I know you've only been here a month, but..."

"One of the cheerleaders likes me maybe."

"So what's the problem?" I asked. "Did you ask her out?"

"No."

"Pizza is your friend," I said. "Just ask her out for a slice. It's easy, you'll see. Girls want things just as much as you do. You should never be too forceful about it, but if you let her ease into it, I promise you she's just as horny as you are. I am, too."

"You are?"

"Sure. I'm so horny I feel like taking off my shirt and my pants so I can sit here with you in my underwear. Would that be okay?"

"Yeah."

My running back's hair looked even curlier than I remembered it, and his dark eyes looked extra alive. I stood up from my chair and took my jeans off over my already bare feet. My blouse was a little long, covering my panties, just giving glimpses of the bright red lace. Unbuttoning the front of the blouse was the real striptease, a slow unveiling that gave me goosebumps and seemed to raise my new boy's blood pressure.

I let the blouse slip off my arms behind me and I sat down again, my goosebumpy skin staying alive and tingly. "How much do you know about girls," I asked. I took a sip of beer and the fizzy mouthful made me tingle even more. "Have you ever tasted a girl's pussy?"

My running back shook his head. His eyes were wide, the dark-brown of them as rich looking as good garden soil.

"Have you fucked a girl, or will I be your first?"

"My...first...if...do you want to?"

I smiled. "Of course I do!" I said. "And I'm happy I'm your first. Is it okay if I coach you? Some men don't like it."

"No, I...want you to," he said. "I want to learn."

I smiled again. "Good. We'll have fun. I won't yell at you like Coach does."

"How do you know he yells at us?"

"I can hear him, all the way across the field."

"Oh, yeah. We can see you sometimes, in your garden. Some of the guys talk about you."

"Do they? Don't forget our agreement, you can't tell anybody about this, or we could both get in trouble."

"No, I wouldn't... I'll never say anything!"

"I know," I said. "I just don't want you to forget, if you're out getting drunk with your teammates."

I could tell my running back was an honest young man. From a small rural town, he grew up going to church with his extended family. From what he told me, they sounded like real salt of the earth type people, old fashioned and happy that way.

I asked him how he wanted his first time to be, but he said he didn't know. I decided we'd just let things happen and let the chips fall where they may.

I led him to my bedroom. He followed me up the stairs, a few steps behind me so my ass was right at his eye level. Of course I swung it a little, a nice exaggerated wiggle that probably looked good with my lacy red panties barely covering me. I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra as we ascended the stairs, putting a little extra juice into my wanton display. I walked into my room with my arms down at my sides, the bright red bra dangling from one finger. I wondered what I'd see when I turned around.

My running back had such a priceless look on his face, a look I wish I could see every day, and his pants had a nice lump in the front. His eyes took in my naked breasts the way boy's eyes do, with a ravenous sort of excited hunger. It triggered my goosebumps again, but embracing him for a kiss is what really made me tingle. Something about my naked skin against a clothed boy always makes me wild with desire. I kissed him open mouthed and passionate, and helped his hands find what they wanted to find, first my ass, and then the extraordinary heat radiating from the softness of my breasts.

He was a darn good kisser for a boy with little experience, telling me afterward that he'd kissed a lot with a girl back home, when they were in tenth grade. There had been a little fondling, but she never let things get to the naked stage.

I did, of course. My panties were off and I was on my back on my bed, feet on the floor, legs spread wide. My running back was still fully clothed when he had his first taste of pussy, still fully clothed when he made a woman cum for the first time. I love that part of my memory of him. Something about it makes me smile.

Teaching him how to use his tongue on me is a smile worthy memory, too. He got frustrated a few times and I calmed him with quiet praise and my fingers in his curly hair. When he started to get things figured out my legs started moving and breathy moans floated out of my smiling mouth. I pulled his hands to my breasts and my thighs gently squeezed his head. He'd figured out the magic and I was quickly climbing, and then I was at the top. I think I laughed but I'm not sure. I remember yelling, "Don't stop!...Don't stop!" It felt like my big running back held me in the palm of his strong hand, high above the bed. It was thrilling, wildly so, and the look on his face when it was over was thrilling, too, his mouth and chin slick and shiny, his vibrant brown eyes fiery. I gasped for breath and slid off the bed, straddling him as he knelt, kissing him and tasting my juices on him. His whole mouth tasted of me, like he'd swallowed as much of me as he could. I was as horny as I'd ever been, dying to swallow him, too.

I tugged at his clothes and he was out of them quickly, sitting on my antique braided rug, leaning back on his arms, his legs spread wide. I was between them, my head bobbing up and down on his hard cock. He made beautiful noises, and he came so fast and so hard it made my head spin, his hips thrusting wildly against me, his cock hammering my throat, gagging me as his cum gushed out of him. It was raw and wild. Cum leaked from my mouth. I tried not to choke. My running back cried out to his God in Heaven.

I swallowed as best I could, but my exclamation, "Jesus!", sounded wet and gooey. I swallowed again and cum dripped down my chin. I took the slippery cock into my mouth again and sucked the dribbles out of it. My running back groaned, deep, like a rumbling engine.

"Wow!" I said, breathless from the excitement. "It's so sexy how much you cum. You're just so full!"

"I always thought it was...weird," he said.

"No! It's really hot! I kinda love it." I stroked the softening cock and kissed it. "I'm gonna clean my face and then we'll get you hard again. It's not too late, is it? Do you need to get up in the morning?"

"7 AM practice with Coach, but...I'd rather stay here a while."

"Wow, that's early! But I want you to stay, too. I want your first time to be tonight. It's all been so perfect. Let me clean up and then we'll fuck for a while."

I ran off to the bathroom, splashed water on my face at the sink and ran back to my bed. He watched my tits wobble and I smiled.

"Up here," I said, patting the mattress with my hand. "On your back. I wanna show you sixty-nine."

I could tell he knew what I meant because his eyes got wide. He joined me on the bed and I flattened him on his back and mounted him. A loud giggle flew out of me when he pulled my pussy to his open mouth.

"Wow!" I said. "You know how to make a girl happy!"

He put all his new knowledge to work, quickly figuring out an upside-down pussy is just the opposite of a right-side up one.

"Holy ssshit!" I said. My thighs were locked in the grasp of powerful arms that had spent untold hours in the weight room, my pussy was engulfed by a wildly enthusiastic young mouth, and my mind took off like a rocket again. I pushed myself up on stiff arms, grinding my pussy hard against the eager mouth, and I came with a smoldering fury that nearly leveled me.

I didn't completely destroy me, because I was just barely able to roll off and spread my legs for my new lover. He was in me quick and he fucked me fast and hard. I was so breathless I couldn't speak to guide him, but it didn't matter. He fucked with speed and power until we both came again, loud and proud, neighbors be damned. I was sore the next day, and my curly-haired running back told me Coach gave him hell for being sluggish at practice, but we both new it was worth it, a first time neither of us will ever forget.

He spent quite a few late evenings with me in early September, some of the days chosen so as not to conflict with my dark-haired swimmer boy. They were very different lovers, my swimmer boy so smooth, both in body and style, and my running back more powerful and energetic. Wonderfully different, and it was delightfully decadent to have their time with me overlap the way it did.

My running back's energy made up for his smaller cock. I didn't measure him, because he was a little less than average sized and I didn't want him dwelling on that. No man should. But I did let him measure my bust. I won't tell you the number because I don't think women should be judged by one. I know, it's a double standard, because I like measuring big cocks, but that's just how it is. I will say that the measurement of my bust made my running back happy. He's definitely a tit man, and I let him fuck them. That really made him happy, and it made a huge mess of my neck and chin. So messy. He didn't have a big cock, but he squirted out a lot more semen than normal, at least from my experience. I always had to strip my bed sheets after he visited me, before I could go to sleep. I teased him and called him my messy boy.

He asked the cheerleader girl out for pizza and she said yes, so I told him we had to stop seeing each other. He looked shattered. So sad. He understood why it had to happen, though, and he and the cheerleader are still together, so things worked out for the best. I saw her talking to him at one of the games on a cool Saturday afternoon. She's a little bitty thing. I can picture his powerful muscles fucking her fast and hard, her little body lifting off the ground. I'm sure she loves it.

—

I met a boy one day when I was planting some chrysanthemums to perk up the color in the Autumn garden. He'd been walking by for weeks and I'd had my eye on him. He was always alone, never texting, just listening to music through his earbuds. He was a tall boy with short brown hair and a crook in his nose. He had the look of an Eastern European, from Russia, I guessed, or maybe Yugoslavia or Latvia. He was handsome in a too-tall, overgrown sort of way. I shouldn't admit this, but from the first day I saw him I wondered if he had a big cock. He just had the look.

It turned out he was from the Czech Republic, a top-of-his-class student in prep school and the center on the University's men's volleyball team. Six foot ten, and yes, the biggest cock I've ever had my hands on.

I must admit I've had some pretty big cocks over the years. The biggest up until September belonged to the owner of the publishing company where I interned when I was in college. I know for a fact it was eight and five eighths inches because it was the first one I ever measured. I didn't try and measure its girth in circumference, but its diameter was just a tick under three inches. It was a club made out of hard man meat and I loved it when he beat me with it. His wife didn't love it so much. He had to fire me to keep her happy, but I'll never forget playing with that cock.

So along comes volleyball boy and this sixth sense of mine telling me he might be special in the bedroom. I broke the ice with a pot of pale yellow mums in my hands and my cleavage just about spilling out of the scoop-neck t-shirt under my open-front flannel shirt.

"Volleyball, huh? I thought maybe you were on the basketball team."

"Volleyball was more popular at home."

I smiled. "Does your accent make all the girls swoon?" I asked.

"Swoon?"

"It means...they wanna take off their clothes."

That's when I got my first look at volleyball boy's nice smile. I swooned even more than I already was.

"You're the one with the accent," he said, still smiling. "Maybe I'm the one who's swoon."

"Ooo, a flirt! I like you!" I said.

I asked about girlfriends, yada yada yada, and then I tried to swallow the biggest cock I'd ever seen. Actually, I set everything up carefully, the way I always do, but it seemed quicker for some reason. He got under my skin from our first little chat, so as soon as he walked through my back door that evening I was on him, already in my lingerie, fully decked out with a garter belt and stockings. For some reason the boy made me a little crazy. And that was before I saw the size of his cock.

Freak of nature is a phrase that comes to mind. Nine solid inches of gristle, ribbed with veins and curved upward and a little to the side like it didn't know which way to piss. A crazy, ugly, beautiful tool that felt like magic in my hands.

I didn't see it soft until later in the night, but even like that it was an oversized ugly duck, like Jimmy Durante's nose, the kind of thing that's so bizarrely wonderful you can't look away from it.

The balls that hung under it were things of wonder, too. So big and low-hanging they inspired a nickname for my crooked nosed boy. I started calling him Volleyballs. Gagging on a man's cock sort of goes without saying if you're that kind of girl, but gagging on balls? That was a first for me. It happened when I asked Volleyballs to tea-bag me with them, gravity stretching the big scrotum to it's full length, dropping into my open mouth, tickling my tonsils while my hand held tight to nine solid inches of rock-hard boy.

My goodness, I do sound like a bit of a slut, don't I? That's okay. I realized it was okay years ago, and I just roll with it now. The sex is all consensual, everyone's of age, there's no cheating on girlfriends or boyfriends. It's all good. Only the nosy neighbor women seem to mind, and like I already said, they're just jealous.

I saw one of them watching me when Volleyballs was talking to me in my garden one day. He was on his way to practice and stopped to chat for ten minutes or so. I'm sure she had lots of gossip to tell after she saw me stand right up close to the tall perfection of his body, him looking down at me from his lofty height, looking right down my sweaty, dirt-flecked cleavage. I looked down at the lump in his loose sweatpants, and back up into his eyes. I was smiling. I'd love to know what my neighbor was thinking.