Mature Bliss Ch. 03

My family had planned to be at the beach all day, but on my way to lunch I saw them in the lobby. My mother and my stepfather were clearly arguing, talking through clenched teeth in order not to scare the children or make a public scene, but my small stepsisters looked pretty sad and miserable all the same, and I think my mother had been crying, for her eyes were red. I pretended not to have seen them. I had other, more important matters on my mind; more mature pussy.

Soon after lunch I found my way to my mistress' room and knocked eagerly on her door. When she opened the door, she exclaimed: "Oh shit, it's you."

Not exactly the welcome I was hoping for.

"Sorry, but there's been a minor emergency and I was expecting someone else. We have to postpone our little get-together until tomorrow. I will make it up to you," she explained, trying to turn me around and push me off.

But I just stood there – very confused and very unhappy. Expecting someone else? Who? Why? I knew we were not lovers in the true sense of the word; we were not romantically involved – we were exploring the sexual side of ourselves. But I still thought we had something special; that I could give her some satisfaction she could not get anywhere else, and that she gave me an experience I sorely needed and hungrily sought for. I was flabbergasted and rooted to the spot. And she looked so tasty, still in her long fluffy sweater and legwarmers and her long knitted coat hanging partially open. I wanted to embrace her and feel her. The way she stood there, leaning against the door post and backlit from the window behind her, she looked so whorish, like the perfect slut, promising no end of sexual favours.

She looked at her watch with exasperation and glanced up and down the corridor. "Oh, don't just stand there!" She grabbed my arm and pulled me inside forcefully.

"I'm expecting company any minute. Hide in my wardrobe and, please, don't make a sound and don't peep. You will be very sorry if you do!" she admonished me.

I hurriedly crept inside, stepping over shoes and boxes and making a space for myself between soft coats and dresses. Just as she shut the wardrobe door on me, I could hear a series of knocks. When she opened the door to the corridor, the wardrobe door clicked slightly open by itself, and I had a clear view of one side of her bed and the space next to it. I did not dare to move.

I also heard a pleading and exasperated voice – a male voice belonging to someone I knew; my stepfather! He was begging her for something – for sexual gratification, but also to be released, or so it sounded. My mistress was standing with her back to me, but I heard that she referred to some previous pecuniary arrangement and received a little stack of bills from my father. When he said something more in an insistent voice, she slapped him – hard. He sank to his knees, and from the look of it she opened her coat and ordered him to make amends for his bad behaviour. He was to worship her legs starting at her feet.

I could see him crawling on the floor before this woman he previously had shaken his head over in disbelief; the woman I had heard him denounce as a total slut. But now he was totally meek and compliant, crawling before her and kissing her feet; a puppy dog seeking favours from his mistress. I heard him plead with her, but she was unyielding. She expected him to worship her legs, and I could see him touching her soft legwarmers, letting his hands float gingerly over the soft fuzz and feel his way upwards towards her knees and thighs.

She ordered him to worship pussy, and I could see his hands grabbing her thighs and from the motions of her hips it was evident that he was eating her out with great fervour, and that she was grinding her crotch all over his upturned face.

They continued like this for a considerable length of time, she moving slightly to give him better access. She put one foot up on the bed, so that he could lick her from her ass to her navel and back. I could see that he loved it and that he must have done exactly this many times before. It suddenly dawned on me that my self-righteous and moralistically superior stepfather was this woman's pussy slave!

My view was somewhat restricted, but I could clearly hear that she put a stop to his pleading with a few strokes with a riding crop. She ordered him to stop his whining and remove all his clothes. He was to stand before her – naked and with his hands behind his back.

I had once overheard my mother brag to some of her friends that my stepfather was well-hung, but his cock did not seem impressive to me. Then I saw that it was restrained in a plastic cage, making it impossible for him to get a proper erection. It looked very uncomfortable in it, and he groaned when she placed herself behind him and wrapped him in her soft mohair coat, rubbing her soft sweater against his back.

She caressed him gently and surrounded his naked body with soft, furry wool. She covered his face with her fuzzy sleeves and let her wool-clad arms slide down his front. Gingerly she scratched him down his chest, tickled him and let her hands roam all over his body. It was obvious that he loved the soft sensation, but also that his swelling dick inside its small cage caused him considerable pain. I squirmed myself in dark hiding place, for I wanted sorely to be caressed like that by her – without the dick-cage, of course.

He begged her to release him from the dick-cage; to be let free of his restraints. He said the sharp points inside it hurt him cruelly, especially when he became aroused, as he was now. He confessed that his wife had wanted to have sex with him and found him restricted and restrained in this torture device. She had then learned all about his affair with his mature mistress, his shame and humiliation. He blurted out that his wife threatened him with divorce, and that their affair had to come to an end.

My mistress reacted instantly and whipped him with the riding crop telling him to be quiet – she was about to be rather tired of his pleading and whining. The dick-cage was good for him, she told him, teaching him the special pleasures to be got from abstinence and self-restraint. His cum-sack must be pretty well filled by now, and it was time for his milking session, wasn't it?

With an air of submission, but also of anticipation, he lay meekly down on his back on her bed. I heard rather than saw that she climbed into bed with him and placed herself on his face. I could see her hands moving down over his midriff, her fingernails digging into his skin, moving slowly towards his crotch. At the same time I heard slurping noises from his tongue lapping up cunt juices flowing freely from her greedy pussy. I knew myself how wet and slippery she could get. Now she was riding his face, adding both to his pleasure and to his humiliation. He was putty in her hands.

Using a small key she carefully unlocked the dick-cage and released his cock. In almost no time it sprang to life and jutted proudly upwards. Using an oily cream she began to massage him in long, strong strokes. He began to move his hips, thrusting up and meeting her movement in similar rhythm, trying to gain the longed-for satisfaction, but she restrained him with her sharp nails. She urged him to let her set the pace.

He must have been locked up for days, because he was so excited and so eager, but she prolonged the procedure deliberately, controlling his erection with a combination of soft, gentle strokes and painful scratches. She obviously liked him to twist and squirm under her, absolutely in her power. She asked him if he wanted her to follow the usual procedure, and when she briefly lifted her crotch off his face, he almost shouted his approval.

Slowly she got out of bed and rummaged in a drawer. I saw her put on a harness around her waist and attaching a long, black dildo to it – a mean and savage looking strap-on. Grabbing his legs by the ankles, she placed the tip of the big plastic dong in the crack between his ass cheeks and plunged the black fake dick deep inside him. He shouted out, twisted and squirmed, but judging by his stiff dick it was obvious that he was used to it, welcomed it and fully enjoyed it.

In my secluded spot I was shocked, disgusted with my stepfather, but also very aroused. I wondered what it would feel like. It was certainly very erotic to watch. I was torn between a strong feeling of jealousy and intense sexual excitement. One soft coat had come off its hanger and fallen into my lap, and I hugged it and used it to caress my cheeks and my neck, still with my eyes glued to the strange scenario before me: my uptight stepfather being drilled in the ass by a mature slut and loving it, begging for it.

Taking it very slowly at first, she concentrated on gradually increasing the length of the strokes. Soon she was maintaining a steady rhythm. At last, she grabbed his cock and started to simultaneously jerk him off. He twisted and turned and egged her on. It did not take long before his whole body stiffened. Great loads of semen spurted out of the tip of his cock and plastered his stomach and chest.

He lay there, whimpering, almost in tears over the blissful feeling of the longed for release and ultimate satisfaction, finally fully content. Before he registered what was happening, she swiftly re-applied the dick-cage to his rapidly wilting cock. When he noticed what she had done, he protested vehemently, but she was not to be persuaded. He was to wear his cock-harness "until next time, as ultimately agreed".

He cursed her with a string of profanity I had never heard him use before, but she just laughed at him, threw his clothes in his direction and with a few final strokes with the riding crop ordered him to leave. She was just sticking to their agreement, she told him, and he had wanted "the usual procedure".

---

The moment the door closed after him, I stumbled out of the wardrobe. I tripped over some shoes and fell on the floor, covered in a heap of soft coats and sweaters. My mistress grinned. She had removed her strap-on, but she still had the riding crop in her hand. From my low vantage point she still looked quite menacing. I had just observed a very dominant and brutal side to her that I had not known about before, and that scared me. What scared me even more was that I found it strangely and strongly arousing, too.

"You peeping tom! Didn't I tell you not to peep!?"

"I'm sorry – the door cracked open all by itself..."

"Silent! Clothes off! Now!"

I tried to get up, but she put her high-heeled shoe on my chest, pushing me down, hurting me with her sharp stiletto. Twisting and turning I soon lay naked on a bed of wool – a stiff dick pointing obscenely straight at her.

She slowly removed her fuzzy morning coat and drew it over me, also covering my face. It was so warm and cosy. Through the knitted mesh I could just glimpse the shape of her legs as she straddled my face and ever so slowly sat down, covering my face with her soft buttocks.

Leaning on my chest, she started to rub her crotch gently against my mohair-covered face. I moved my mouth about, searching for her pussy, trying to match her movements. Strong-scented wetness seeped through the wool, making my face wet with pussy juice. Her weight became heavier and her movements faster, more intense. Soon she was grinding her crotch hard against my face. I writhed and squirmed, loving my soft bed and her grinding pussy, but also struggled to get a breath of air.

Suddenly she stopped, lifted her ass off my face and asked me if I was all right. I answered by lifting my face up into her ass crack, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her down again, spurring her on. She responded by resting the full weight of her ripe body on my face and performing wild gyrations with her hips on my upturned mouth. I think I loved it fully as much as she did.

When she ultimately came, her coat and my face were a wet, sloppy mess, just like her lovely mature pussy. I nearly suffocated, and when she leaned forward, allowing me to fill my lungs again, I relished the heady scent of her wet crotch.

Satisfied herself, she concentrated her focus on my stiff member, covered in soft, fuzzy wool. She kneaded it, stroked it and scratched it with the tips of her long fingernails, only rubbing my face gently with her pussy in a faint memory of her recent orgasm.

I loved being surrounded by wool, every inch of my body being sensitive to the soft sensation of woolly fibres nuzzling my naked skin. I tried to hold back in order to prolong the extraordinary, pleasurable feeling, but it was impossible, and inevitably I was soiling her coat with a series of hard spurts of sperm.

---

Afterwards, she wanted to send me away, but I reason with her. I told her that her relationship with my stepfather had come as a profound shock. I admitted that I felt threatened by it – that I sorely need assurance. I nearly blurted out that I loved her, but instinctively I knew that would not be wise. However, I did say that I needed her and could not stand the thought of leaving her.

Somehow I persuaded her to let me stay, and that night I shared her bed. Not as an equal, mind you, but as a subservient young man worshipping a deserving mature woman. I slept in the foot end of the bed, falling asleep between her legs, hugging them and stroking them, resting my head on her thighs ...