“Nurse me, please.”
I frowned. “What did you say?”
“Look. Mr. Brady. I'll do whatever you want, but you've got to be nice to me. Now nurse me, right away.”
“What the hell for?”
She shook her head. “Don't you understand? I'm a fully developed woman, even though I'm barely sixteen. Every woman wants to be a mother, I suppose, although my drive seems kind of funny. To me being a mother means having somebody nurse on me. It doesn't matter who they are. Baby or man, it's all the same.” She giggled. “Besides, it makes me hotter than hell, even while I'm playing big mama.”
I swallowed and she turned even more toward me, throwing one leg up on the bench so that her knee shoved into my hip. “I'm ready, little boy.” She said this last in the cooing voice of a loving mother.
I turned, trying to get at her, and found that the best position was to straddle the bench, which I did. This exposed my genitals fully, of course, and her knee was right in there, jiggling me until my balls began to tingle and my cock resumed its fully hard position, sticking out like a foot-long hot dog.
“Very nice,” she mused, “but I still want to be nursed. We'll think of other things later, if you want.”
I smiled. “All right, little mother.”
“There's a good baby,” she cooed, taking my head and pulling it forward until my mouth was rammed into a nipple.
I opened my lips and the huge red thing popped inside, its tip like a lead pencil, stiff with her erotic desire, aching to be serviced like a milk cow. I sucked at the thing for several minutes, while she made small sounds and stroked my head. All through her mother act, however, she continued to move her knee against my groin so that my cock and balls were humming like tuning forks, anxious to be released for active duty.
Then I was moved to the other breast and its nipple quickly assumed the hardness of its twin. Tentatively, I licked at the nipple and my tongue's touch sent a fresh shudder quaking over her so that I could even feel her probing knee tremble.
“You're a sweet baby,” she whispered, kissing the top of my head, as my mouth shifted back to the first breast, where my tongue worked more of its magic.
As I lapped my hands went to her belly, which, for her size, was surprisingly hard and flat, but certainly larger than Trudy's spare little tummy. I explored the folds and presently found myself in the land of plenty, down in the forest of hair, walking through the moist brush that guarded the gates of her treasure house.
“Oh, I like that,” she purred.
“Children don't do that to their mothers,” I chided, my voice as quiet as hers.
“Mine do, baby, mine do. Proceed and keep your lips where they belong. Skip the talking.”
I kept quiet for a while, sucking on, making small moist sounds as the murmuring from the others in the party drifted in to us. I dropped my busy hands into her crotch, shoving my way into the lips and peeling them back like the shells of an oyster. Inside it was moist and hot, of course, and growing more moist by the second as she turned on her spigots to make entry easier.
She was making sounds deeply in her throat, like a coffee pot that was about to begin its boiling cycle, as I shoved more deeply into her canal. There was plenty of room and I was free to search out her little button and press it, like a messenger boy at the door waiting to deliver a telegram. She replied at once, did this amazing creature, flooding my fingers with her final flow.
Her orgasm was like a shuddering of a great ocean liner, dead in the water, but quivering from some cataclysmic upheaval from far below the waterline. Her body rocked, shook, trembled and broke into a sweat that left her wringing wet from the roots of her hair to her knee, which was still planting itself into my groin, time after time.
She gasped, her lips moving as no sound came, and I halted my nursing, lifting my head to look into her face, where I saw pure bliss in those deep, moist eyes. Mary Ellen was gone on her trip, doing her thing, off somewhere, loving life and its supreme pleasures.
Presently she began to return and her eyes focused on mine. She curved her lips in a rational smile this time. “You're very good, baby.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I suppose you're waiting for a response.”
I licked my lips, glancing toward the others, who were out of sight altogether now. “That might be in order.”
She stood, taking several deep and trembling breaths, her mounds heaving in contentment, having been thoroughly serviced. Getting control of herself, she turned back to me, dropping to her knees and pulling me around straight on the bench, so that I was no longer straddling.
“All right now?”
“All right!”
I was beginning to steam, my penis still waving like a regimental flag, ready to meet the enemy and make him mine. She lunged forward, taking my cock in her mouth, which was a large mouth, by the way, and sinking it in a half dozen inches before even pausing for breath. Then she took another three inches or so and I marveled at her capacity and eagerness for immediate action.
“Go, Mother.”
Her reply was a strangled series of sounds, but I had an idea what she was trying to say.
Her lips made a seal around my shaft and then her head was pulled back a full half a foot or more so that she had only the swollen purple knob and a bit of the shaft inside that cone of red. Her rhythmic stroking began and, even though I'd had more than my share of orgasms in the few days immediately before, I was ready to come almost at once.
She sensed this, taking her time, keeping the seal very tight so that the skin was pulled firmly to and fro, not fast, but with solid effect. I nodded, patting her on the cheeks as she worked like a slow-moving engine, inexorable, never to be still until the thing was done.
“Excellent, just superior, Mom.”
She didn't bother to reply, instead concentrating on her work. Her eyes did remain fixed on mine, as though she were an engineer reading the meters to make certain that the temperature, pressure and other technical factors were all in order.
She blinked deliberately from time to time, but there was no other response to my encouraging words, except to continue on her dedicated mission.
Then my storm began to break, the clouds bumping into one another in the heavens of my loins and cracking open, spilling their contents down the shaft, out of the reservoir in my balls, heading for that head and the promised land beyond.
She felt the final swelling and then the bumpy surging, and at once thrust her face all the way forward so that I had nine or more inches buried deeply in her throat before the advance guard of wiggling sperm burst into her body. The things poured from me like a Las Vegas jackpot raining silver dollars, and I rammed my hips, closing my crotch over her face as she continued to sup, draining me of every last morsel.
I feared that she might suffocate, until I picked up a rasping sound that told me she was getting air down there. So I let myself be emptied, allowing her lips to work me over like my penis was an emptying toothpaste tube, being squeezed of its final squirt of cleaner.
When it was over she opened her mouth and fell back on her buttocks, thudding on the pavement. She felt no pain, I am certain, for her eyes were glazed, her lips dripped with my semen and her breasts were still swollen from my nursing. A clear fluid dripped from her vagina to the concrete, making a small dark puddle, but none of my come had escaped her throat and darting tongue.
“Well,” she breathed at last.
“'Well' yourself,” I replied, continuing this stimulating intellectual exchange.
“What do you suppose they're doing?” She angled her chin toward the party.
“Want to find out?”
She nodded and I helped her up. When she was on her feet she stood close to me for a moment, her hard nipples strumming my chest like they were guitar picks, “You're a nice baby, Mr. Brady. If you ever break up with Trudy or Mrs. Brady…”