Titillation Rumination

I am the petite, fifty-year-old wife from the story Tutor Tits that my husband submitted to this site about the morning that I got carried away with my exhibitionism around our eighteen-year-old paperboy, Brandon. Carried away like sitting on my husband's face and then having sex with him while Brandon thought he was secretly watching through a doorway into our bedroom. It got worse -- or better -- after that and in the heat of my passion to show off for an inexperienced audience, I agreed to a poorly executed plan to let my husband watch Brandon approach me from behind on the bed where I supposedly wouldn't know it was him touching me. Like I said -- worse and better.

We don't think that he's mentally retarded but the kid is definitely socially immature and an outcast among his peers. As sometimes happens with those rejected by the group where they most want to belong, he tries to overcompensate by acting like them but comes off looking like a foolish imitation that is even more likely to be ridiculed. With the un-coordinated body of a high-school freshman in a growth spurt, the unrefined sex drive of an eighteen-year-old needing affirmation and his unfortunate tendency to tell those he shouldn't about his insecurities, he was a perfect target for them and a likely project for somebody like me with a nurturing instinct that just went too far.

I'm a sucker for underdogs so I admit that I started teasing him with pretty suggestive clothing over the summer at his delivery times but I did it because I found out he was most intimidated by girls that had bodies about my size. Girls that never gave him a chance to grow up like most guys do. He was entering his senior year of high-school and hadn't yet kissed a girl much less known what lay under their shirts and, I swear, he was consumed with that ignorance even before he saw me braless. Since I had a unique set of skills that my husband and I had honed over thirty years of faithful marriage, after clearing it with him, I became a sympathetic visual aid to the youngest guy I had ever teased.

My boobs are real small so I know that there are women who get a lot more looks than I do but to a testosterone laden teenager I was an answer to the live curiosity that had been denied him through puberty. All it took was a little bit of encouragement from my husband to believe that we were in control of a hands-on demonstration and then one thing led to another and, well, I ended up with Brandon's virgin sperm mixing with my husband's inside of me.

I'm just under five-feet tall, a hundred pounds and blessed with good genes that have left me with a flat tummy to go with my tennis ball size breasts. Ever since our dating days, my husband has gotten a kick out of me going braless because I have these real pointy nipples that make me look like I'm always excited. I'm still self-conscious about my breast size in the Playmate world we live in but I learned early that guys can't resist looking at even my boobs when I've got nipples poking against my shirts. Over the years, the thrill of teasing and acting like I couldn't tell has become kind of an addiction that feeds my self-esteem and that my husband loves.

I was the only sister among four brothers so I've never been uncomfortable around guys and I suppose that turned me into kind of a flirt but still nobody would ever guess that I am as much of an exhibitionist as I have discovered I am. I've been the PTA president and the Sunday school teacher and the dependable stay-at-home mom with a thousand unsuspecting friends who sometimes call me "a cute blonde". But my husband has gently pushed me toward showing more of my body when it's safe to do it and it has begun to feel pretty normal as long as it happens where my reputation won't suffer.

I put on a front with him for quite awhile, denying that I liked it when he chose the clothes that best showed off my nipples or even "accidentally" showed them inside my shirts but since cheating on him has never been a consideration we now understand it for what it is as public foreplay to the sex we later enjoy with each other. This stage of life doesn't only bring excitement from the spontaneity of sex without worrying about birth control. It also brings an honesty that let's us stop pretending that my showing off is turning us both on and I've gotten a lot more comfortable with the freedom to take the chances that he encourages.

I try to dress to suit the audience, so friends might "catch" me trying to cover up in a thread-bare t-shirt while strangers might get surprised by their good luck when a fit middle-aged woman leans over and doesn't seem to notice that they have time for a leisurely inspection of my naked titties all the way to the nipples. The security of being with one man for so long has left me much more relaxed about the idea of exposing myself in settings we can control so within the last few years I've been "caught" completely naked when I can look more like a victim of their voyeurism than the cock-tease I admit that I am. It's usually on trips out of town that I get that bold but there are exceptions.

Brandon was one, I guess, since he had no experience with girls and I didn't think he would figure that a woman my age would show him her breasts on purpose. But it definitely worked -- for both of us -- and once I was sure that we were going to just act like it wasn't happening and that I could trust him not to tell anybody else about it, almost every time he delivered a paper he could count on my feminine mystique to be creatively on display somehow.

I became kind of a coach to him through his exaggerated anxieties about dating or the lack of a dad in his broken home and he was always an attentive and polite student. Of course, it didn't hurt that I could keep it from being a boring lecture by doing things like leaning forward on my elbows in a tank top while assuring him that girls have insecurities about boys, too. Whether it was that or my nipples tenting the thin fabric or sometimes a camel-toe outlined in tight shorts, he always took the bait and opened up with me for as long as I let him look.

My husband didn't mind the forbidden edge of indecency that it seemed like I was on and Brandon was just simple enough that I never felt threatened by his staring that made him seem less like the adult that he was technically and more like a curious boy that had stumbled onto a woman who doesn't know that she's dressing too provocatively for company. I was surprising myself by the effect his visits had on me, too, and let him get away with a lot more rubbernecking than I usually would allow when guys started to just gawk like I was a stripper or something.

A couple of weeks before the morning in question, I let my husband talk me into letting Brandon "accidentally" peek through the door at me drying off after a shower and that was my audacious introduction into the more perilous side of showing off completely naked to him. We were in separate rooms but that daring suggestion of intimacy between me and a guy who wasn't a stranger left me both terrified and electrified. It was only a matter of time before a hunger to take even more chances made my chastity less important to us than the pleasure we got from risking it.

The Sunday morning that Brandon came of age with me, it was my idea when I woke up horny and chose a daring tease of riding naked on my husband's face while Brandon again peered through the partially open door into our bedroom to secretly witness my orgasm. Then, after fucking me, my husband turned me to face the mirror Brandon where was spying on us -- and we were spying on him - as I spread my legs to get my creamy pussy fingered while watching Brandon jack off to the sight.

The sexual tension was thick as we secretly pleased one another in the mirrored images of lust and I nearly choked in awe when Brandon's naked cock started spewing his teenage semen just outside my bedroom door. The thought that looking at a reflection of my body was the cause, and that Brandon had considered the reward worth the risk, was a total turn-on for me that made what came next possible.

If you read Tutor Tits you know that he left for a few minutes after that but came back to get caught peeking around the door at us by my husband who gave him a nod of permission to keep watching. I didn't know it yet as I continued to perform naked with my back to the door until my husband whispered to me that Brandon was actually just inside the room.

I was afraid and turned on at the same time and sensing that we shared a secret desire, my husband made a spontaneous and no doubt frightening suggestion that I should cross the line into touch. We had never done anything like it but he allowed it as I consented to becoming a physical education for my inexperienced student by acting like I wouldn't know it was him behind me as I knelt doggy-style at the edge of the mattress and my husband stepped aside.

My heart pounded as I prepared to feel his hands on me but I don't think that any of us knew for sure if he would be brave enough to actually do it. He didn't disappoint and by the time his thumbs had learned both what a woman's pussy feels like and where to touch to make a woman's pussy feel better, I was convinced that I could let nature take its illegitimate course if Brandon's sexual ego would benefit by it and my husband would allow it.

I've heard about how blind people get super-powers of sensation when they lose sight. That's what the hyper-sensitive opening to my vagina felt like as he penetrated the swollen lips and seemed to touch every nerve with the purple head of his cock that I had seen ejaculating just a few minutes earlier. My cunt was a sloppy mess but I could still feel the pressure of him stretching the pink membrane apart when the circumcised rim hesitated at the outer folds of my sex and then tickled them as he slipped through almost with a pop.

I couldn't believe what I had just let him do. What I had just let myself do! What my husband had let us both do. Light-headed as I was, I was surprised by my awareness and interest in the fullness of another man's cock as he seemed to test how much he should be moving it inside of me at first. I was even more surprised that I wanted him to start fucking me and not stop until his sperm swam toward my fallopian tubes. If he played the game correctly, when we were done I could pretend that I didn't know it was his but while he did it I wanted to think of only that for some reason.

There was a learning curve for his first time but even with him being too rough at the beginning, I hated to interrupt the act that for some reason felt more important to finish than it was immoral to do. I know how crazy it sounds now but at the time I was intoxicated by the idea that my body was turning a young man on that much and if my husband was offering me as an anonymous lesson in carnal knowledge to a virgin cock, I thought we could overlook the right or wrong of it while I tried to endure his exuberant attempts to force all of his rigid meat into a package too small.

My intentions were good but my pain threshold was not and after some gentle instruction that ended with me perched on his magnificent young cock, and him learning to gently fondle my tits, we caught a glimpse of each other in a mirror and the ruse fell apart. He rode me back down to the mattress and I only made a token struggle while secretly welcoming the adolescent goo that he made sure he got pumped into my pussy that had never been fucked twice in one day. His weight crushed my face into a pillow that helped muffle a giggle as I thought about how lucky he didn't know he was as I clenched my vaginal muscles to milk the seed from his twitching cock in a way that a girl his age never would have done.

We lay there panting for a minute before his cock slipped out of me and I tried to act like a victim by scooting out from under him to sit naked against the headboard of my bed. There was no salvaging any dignity in a situation that left our paperboy watching his semen leak out of me while I watched it drip from the end of his dick. He was, of course, at a disadvantage. He didn't know that I had allowed it and it didn't help that I couldn't stop looking at his shiny cock wagging as he tried to catch his breath at the end of the bed.

Even exposed to each other, we seemed to mutually accept a return to our former game of me being his tutor with a flirty exhibitionism that could control how sexual our conversations became. I tried to scold him for taking advantage of me but, with my husband as his accomplice, I sounded less like a woman abused and more like a wife who should be angrier with him than at the kid who had simply accepted the gift of illicit sex.

So I toyed with him some more.

With the honesty I had come to expect from him, he told me that he knew that a woman wanted more than just fucking from a man and that he had read enough pornography to be able to do it. I thought he meant that he was going to use his tongue on my clit so only after hesitating long enough to make him think he had to convince me, I agreed to let him prove himself as his knees leaned like an eager student on the edge of the mattress.

Between my husband's amused encouragement, my sex-crazed conscience that didn't feel guilty for what I had done so far, and the enthusiastic interest that Brandon still had in giving me an orgasm, I intended to use that once-in-a-lifetime morning for all that it was worth. He crawled toward me on the bed and then knelt with his erection only inches from my face to wait for me to lie back so he could begin. In the thrill of the moment that might never come again, I decided first to kiss the tip of his teenage cock and nurse it for a few seconds as a way to taste the total depravity that I felt entitled to as much as what I was going to let him do with his tongue.

He tried to make it a crude throat fucking when his hands went to the back of my head and I gagged as his smelly flesh filled my mouth. But I taught him to relax instead and enjoy the leisurely strokes that would feel better as my lips provided the friction around his turgid shaft and made him groan when I swallowed against the tip that tickled the back of my throat. While probing the slit with my tongue I was careful to only give him a sample of what I could do if I had wanted his cum in my stomach before performing blowjob interruptus so I could begin my act of coy seduction that would put his tongue to work.

I insisted that our fucking had been a mistake and that he couldn't do that again but when he moved down close enough for me to feel his breath on my crotch, I sort of showed off for him by squeezing his semen out of my pussy and he promptly started dry-humping the mattress while he watched my little trick. Afraid that another orgasm from him would mean none for me, I invited him to lay on me like my husband does sometimes so his cock would slide along my clit and tried to hurry my orgasm while he was asking me to teach him how to make love instead of just fuck.

It was only with half-hearted resistance that I agreed and ended up letting him slip his cock back into me in the missionary position. In the twisted morality that had become our friendship over the summer, he honored my quirky definition of the word "fuck" that meant he shouldn't cum in me again but that he could practice French kissing and stimulating me with the undulation of gentle intercourse that he would share with a girl his age someday.

Even without reading the other story, I'm sure that you know I succumbed to the flattery of a young man's erection prodding me to worry less about my orgasm and more about the reckless urge I had to feel it spurt in me again. He whispered compliments about my body and excuses to stay in me for just a minute longer and then a minute more after that until I eventually was pleading with him to pour his hot sperm into me -- but just once more. I tried to climax while his pubic bone ground into my clit and the tip of his pulsing organ jetted another creamy deposit into me but I couldn't get there by the time he had collapsed onto my chest panting.

Lying there like that with his hips pressed into mine so I would feel his cock deflate started a muddled emotional swing between my demand to be pleased and the humiliating reality of what I had just done. I had entered the realm of asking for it more than being subjected to it. Did I say asking for it? No, I had begged him to keep going until he was done. It had stopped being a sexual adventure that my husband had set up for us to use as foreplay later. Instead, I had become an animal in heat and I think that all three of us in the room knew that I would have been willing to trade my wedding ring for that last explosion of teenage cum inside of me.

I still had tingling between my legs from the orgasm that I had been denied but doubted that there was any pleasure in my future at that point and began to consider the consequences of my shameless promiscuity instead. Like a sixteen-year-old, boy-crazy nymph in the backseat of a car who was leaking regrets from the pussy she had offered in a fit of passion, I wondered if my impetuous need to feel Brandon's cock throb in me again had been asking too much of even a voyeuristic husband. I had truly lost control. After watching that could he believe that Brandon was my first? Could he ever trust me to be monogamous again? Did I deserve such trust? Going back to being sixteen and worried about just being pregnant suddenly seemed less complicated.

He was still sitting in a chair watching near the end of the bed and I'm pretty sure that he saw the tear streak on the side of my face that disappeared into my hair. We had never been in a position as sordid as that but, throughout our marriage, he has been the biggest fan of my exhibitionism and has always been sensitive to the times that I felt like I had gone too far and was being seen as a whore either by him or the guy I had been teasing. I was relieved to find that this time was no exception as he directed Brandon to lift my spirits.

Still breathing hard and occasionally moaning like a guy ready to roll off and fall asleep, when my husband invited him to look one more time at my tits his head popped up off of my shoulder and his eyes grinned into mine. For some reason I had covered my chest with my hands in a pathetic attempt to feel less vulnerable and, even in his exhaustion he seemed genuinely happy to rise up on his elbows to take pressure off of my hands and see if I would be an obedient wife.

His bony shoulders and twiggy biceps reminded me again of who it was that still had his chubby cock pressed into my tight slit and I could feel the bed shake a little as he held himself up to wait for me to respond. I glanced at my husband and rolled my eyes playfully when he winked an encouragement that told me that I didn't have to quit and I involuntarily clenched my pussy around Brandon's meat causing us to both shudder and moan softly.

I spread my fingers teasingly to let my nipples peek between them and then dropped my hands to cup my flat breasts in the web between my thumbs and forefingers when Brandon panted a juvenile encouragement.

"I like to look at them."

We had apparently stopped pretending that I didn't want more if he could produce it and I turned again to look at my husband while pinching the soft tissue into the shape of a tit that would put my little nipples on goose-bumped pedestals for Brandon to examine.

"She likes it when you suck on them," he said and Brandon immediately dropped his lips onto one to suck his first breast.

In a combination of that movement and me squeezing his dick with my pussy in response, it slipped out of me and I put a hand on the back of his head to let him nurse as he was given a final invitation to prove himself.