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Counting Freckles

Category: Mature
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1. The love of my life.

The first moment I saw her, I knew I wanted to marry her. She was a tall slender woman with flaming red hair who looked like a movie star to me. I watched every move she made all day, every day, and her beauty was unmatched by any woman I had ever seen. She had perfect white teeth that sparkled when she smiled, and that face would light up the room at those times. Her face, neck and arms were covered with freckles, and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life counting them.

Although she was in her thirties she dressed in the fashion of the sixties, with long flowing skirts and loud colors. She used to wear a green and rust colored paisley dress that was a particular favorite of mine, and days she wore that were special indeed.

There were a few obstacles that stood in the way of my quest of this ravishing goddess. One of the major problems was the fact that Mrs. Murray was married. The other thing standing in my way was the fact that she was my teacher. My third grade teacher. These were quite formidable problems, although at the time I didn’t understand why. All I knew was that I loved her.

I excelled in third grade, so much so that if you reviewed my report cards from my school career, it looks like someone else stood in for me that year. I wanted so much to please her that I studied every night and did my homework willingly and thoroughly.

When Mrs. Murray would make the rounds of the room, the times when she would stop by my desk would almost cause me cardiac arrest. I would watch as she would point at my paper, but my eyes were fixated on her pale freckled arms and the downy hair that covered her forearms, so light in color it was almost invisible.

At times like those I would attempt to make contact with her, brushing my arms against hers in a clumsy and childish mating ritual. I didn’t know whether she noticed this or not, but I was too oblivious to know or care.

Mrs. Murray would always explain to us the virtues of natural living and eating right, and when I saw the see would eat fruit and granola as snacks, I followed suit. This despite the fact that I would have much preferred the candy bars and chips all the other kids munched on. Not me, at least not when I was in Mrs. Murray’s classroom.

As I had mentioned, Mrs. Murray was married, and I hated her husband. Not that I knew him or anything, but he was living with the love of my life so I despised him. I thought of ways of winning her away from him, but one day in the spring he came to visit Mrs. Murray at school, and he came into our class to be introduced to us.

As I looked at the tall and handsome man in his Marine uniform, my heart sank. He was like a living G.I. Joe, and we all stared in awe at this man with his chest full of medals as he told us what he did in the service.

This became a geography lesson, as Mrs. Murray rolled down a map and explained where Vietnam was. This was where Sgt. Murray was going to be headed pretty soon, and it seemed like it was on another planet. We all got to shake his hand as we left the classroom to go lunch, and I dawdled enough to be last even though my desk was at the front of the room. I was hoping he would leave so I wouldn’t have to shake his hand, but he was persistent, so I grabbed my lunch and walked up to him at the doorway.

“This must be Adam,” Sgt. Murray said as he held out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, young man.”

I watched my hand disappear inside his massive paw and tried to give him a handshake that would make him wince. Looking back at this it must have been comical, but he didn’t laugh and just shook my hand. I was very polite and smiled before walking down the hall. When I made the turn to go to the cafeteria I saw them kiss each other in the doorway, and it was then I decided that I hated him, and I hoped that he would get shot.

2. Time passes.

I really didn’t hope he got killed, but the thought did cross my mind for one brief second. I also thought that pretty soon I would be old enough to join the Marines, and then I would be an even bigger hero than Sgt. Murray was. Then Mrs. Murray would fall in love with me.

Next year I suffered through fourth grade with a miserable teacher who could not possibly compare with Mrs. Murray, but I did make a point of running into Mrs. Murray in the halls as often as possible. Additionally, I would stay after school and drop by her room to offer my services. You never could tell when you needed someone to go clap the erasers against the wall outside to clean them.

I’m sure I was a major pain, but Mrs. Murray never failed to greet me with a smile. Several times I was allowed to go outside and clean the erasers for her, and I did so with an enthusiasm unmatched in blackboard history. What she thought of this grinning and goofy kid who would race back to her room covered with chalk dust and somewhat lean erasers, I can’t imagine.

Toward the end of my fourth grade year, Mrs. Murray didn’t come in to school for a couple of days. I was worried that she had gotten sick, but it turned out that was not the case. Something far more serious had happened.

Sgt. Murray had been killed in Vietnam. Just like I had hoped for, if only for a second. The news did not bring me the joy that I thought it would. Instead, it brought a sense of guilt that was overwhelming me, and I went through the last couple weeks of school in a daze.

Mrs. Murray did not return to school those last couple of weeks, and I was left to stew in my guilt for the entire summer. The next September on the first day of the school year I raced past her classroom, almost hoping she wasn’t there. She was there, however, and I spent the day trying to avoid her.

By the end of the day, I could no longer live with myself, and so after the school day ended I went down to her classroom. I had a speech in my head all prepared to give to Mrs. Murray when I entered her room, but when I saw her my mind went blank. She was just as beautiful as ever, although the smile didn’t seem quite as bright and the face not quite as glowing when she saw me at the doorway.

“Hello Adam! How’s fifth grade so far?” Mrs. Murray asked.

I stammered and stuttered a minute before it all came roaring out of me. Through the tears I explained to her how it was my fault that Sgt. Murray had been killed. I had wished it to happen, although only for a second, and I really didn’t mean it. I only thought it because I loved her and wanted to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her. All this while bawling like a baby and peppered with “I’m sorry” over and over again.

I found myself in Mrs. Murray’s arms, hugging her as tight as possible while she comforted me and tried to calm me down, because I was hyperventilating and damn near going into convultions. Finally I managed to get a little control of myself, in large part to Mrs. Murray’s soothing voice and her rubbing my back.

“It’s all right Adam,” Mrs. Murray said, even though it sounded like she was crying too. “It was nothing you did or thought that caused what happened. It just happened.”

“Really?” I asked sniffling.

“Really,” Mrs. Murray said as she looked at me with watery eyes of her own. “You can’t wish for something like that to happen, even if someone did mean it. If wishes worked like that, Jerry would still be here, because I wanted him to come home more than anything. I never wanted him to leave either, just as badly. So you see, it wasn’t anything you did, and I know you’re fond of me just like I’m fond of you. So don’t ever think that way.”

“Okay,” I managed.

“Thank you for being so honest with me Adam,” Mrs. Murray said as she dried our tears with her handkerchief. “We’re still going to be friends, aren’t we?”

That was something she didn’t have to worry about, because from then on I made a vow to myself that whenever she needed me I would be there. Any time, any place. Of course, the call never came, but I kept stopping by the classroom until I had to go to another school for junior high.

Even then, I would stop by a couple times a year after my school day was done to see how she was doing. She aged gracefully, remaining as beautiful as ever throughout the ensuing years.

As I grew older and went to high school, I met girls and went on dates like everybody else. Nice girls all of them, but they all had a fatal flaw. They weren’t Mrs. Murray. None as beautiful, none as caring, and none as kind as she was.

3. High school graduation.

Mrs. Murray surprised me by coming to my high school graduation. I guess she had always made it a point to attend them each year to see the students she had taught, but in my mind she was there for me. After the ceremony she came up to me as I stood around with my folks, and I excitedly introduced Mrs. Murray to them, even though they had both met her years ago.

“After all the years and all the teachers he’s had, I think you’re the only one that ever made an impression on Adam,” my mother said to my embarrassment.

“Adam was one of my favorites too,” Mrs Murray said as she handed me an envelope. “Decide which college you’re going to yet Adam?”

“Probably SUNY, but I got accepted at a couple of others too,” I said, and then turned so that my folks couldn’t hear. “I was kinda thinking about joining the Marines first though.”

The look of joy on Mrs. Murray’s face vanished as the words came out of her mouth, replaced by a look of horror.

“No. Go to college Adam,” Mrs. Murray said in a cold voice. “Go to SUNY, get an education and have a wonderful life.”

Mrs. Murray leaned over and kissed me on the cheek while putting that wonderful smile back on her face before leaving to say hello to some other kids from her past.

I opened the envelope which contained a nice card in which she wrote how proud she was of me and how special I would always be in her life. It was signed Joyce Murray. Joyce. All those years and she had been Mrs. Murray, and I had never even thought of her having a first name. Joyce. How perfect.

How beautiful, I thought as I watched her talking to Jack House, one of my classmates for the last dozen years. How incredibly attractive she still was, dressed simply but smartly in a long sleeved dress that was short enough to show that she still had incredibly great legs.

Joyce. That was how she signed the back of the leather bookmark that she had put inside the card as a present. Follow your dreams, it read, and was signed simply, Joyce. I wanted to follow my dreams, that was for sure, and my dreams were the same then as they had been for as long as I could remember.

4. Making deliveries.

That spring I had gotten a job driving around a VW bug for a drug store, making deliveries in this little ‘pill cart’, as it was referred to. I beat the crap out of that little car as I made my rounds on the weekends, enjoying listening to that engine whine as I drove the thing into the ground. The boss was amazed at how fast I got deliveries made, but he wouldn’t have been so choked up had he seen the way I drove when out of sight of the store.

Summer meant I could work full time, and one day as I took the box of orders to the car to put them in a logical sequence for delivering them, one name caught my eye. Joyce Murray. I had no way of knowing if it was ‘my’ Joyce Murray or not, but I saved that one for last and raced through the rest of the orders in record time before delivering that order.

The house was a nice little split level that was beautifully landscaped, and when I rang the doorbell my heart started to pound rapidly. The was no answer to my ringing, and because there were prescriptions in the order I could not leave them without a signature, so I went around to the back of the house. There was a car in the driveway, so at least someone was home.

As I came around to the back, I saw her. Mrs. Murray. Joyce. She was just getting up from pulling weeds in her flower bed, and when she glanced up and saw me, her eyes lit up as she walked up to meet me.

“Adam, so nice to see you,” she said while looking at me curiously. “What brings you here?”

“Uh, the stuff you ordered from the drug store,” I said holding the little bag up. “I couldn’t leave it at the door because of the prescriptions.”

“Of course Adam,” Mrs. Murray said. “Come inside so I can pay you.”

I followed Mrs. Murray up the deck stairs, enjoying the view of her long legs from behind, and seeing her freckled thighs for the first time. The pale down on the back of her legs sparkled in the sunlight, and I almost fell up the stairs when I missed a step due to my careful inspection.

By the time we got to her sliding back door my erection was as hard as steel and throbbing, and as Mrs. Murray let me in I tried to position it so it wasn’t quite so obvious.

We chatted as Mrs. Murray went into her purse and dug out her checkbook. She was wearing a sleeveless denim blouse, and as she wrote out the check my eyes devoured those beautifully sculpted arms, so incredible slender yet shapely with the outsides of them densely coated with freckles.

The blouse stopped at the shoulders which seemed to be equally endowed with more of the same, and my imagination raced at the thought of taking that blouse off and seeing for myself.

It occured to me that I never seen Mrs. Murray wearing a sleeveless blouse before, which was just as well, because I was having trouble staying in control as it was. The insides of her arms were a pale china white in comparison to the outsides and after Mrs. Murray finished writing the check, she reached up to hand it to me.

As I leaned forward to take the check from Mrs. Murray, my eyes caught sight of something incredible. I only got a glimpse for a second, but when Mrs. Murray’s arm lifted, I saw a large tuft of flaming red hair sprouting out of the deep hollow of her armpit.

Her arm came down as quickly as it went up, but there was no mistaking the fact that Mrs. Murray had hair under her arms. Not a little stubble, or a few stray hairs, but incredibly hairy armpits. While a few of the hippie chicks in school didn’t shave under their arms and I thought that it looked kinda sexy on them, it was something altogether different to see Mrs. Murray like that, and I found it was incredibly exciting.

For the rest of my visit I longed for another glimpse of that exotic sight, but the opportunity did not arise. I left after a few minutes, awkwardly walking back out to my pill cart with my erection ready to explode.

“Stop by and say hello anytime Adam,” Mrs. Murray said as I walked down her driveway.

“I will,” I assured her, and gave an enthusiastic wave as I pulled away, hoping to get one in return, but Mrs. Murray had already headed back to her gardening.

I drove like a maniac down to a deserted road nearby where I pulled off on the side. Looking around to make sure no one was around, I skipped into the woods where I dropped my pants to my knees and peeled my underwear carefully off of my swollen cock. The cotton was stuck onto the tip of my dick because of the cum that had been leaking out of it for the last half hour.

I took my cock into my fist and gave it a couple of brisk pulls while my mind replayed the beauty of Mrs. Murray. It took less than a minute for me to cum, and after the milky fluid had spurted onto the ground I felt ashamed at what I had done, and so I quickly pulled my pants up and got back to the car.

Over the next month I got the chance to deliver a couple more times to Mrs. Murray, and even volunteered to help her out around the house with chores. I felt I was making progress toward winning her affections, and waited for the chance to make my move. Clearly I could not live like this for the rest of my life, and I had to tell her how I felt.

I went with my family on vacation for a week in late July, and while it was fun and all that, I couldn’t wait to get back home by the end of the trip. I drove past Mrs. Murray’s house the day after we got back, hoping to see her doing her yard work or something. I didn’t see her and the car was not in the driveway, but I did see something that was disturbing. On the manicured front lawn was a ‘FOR SALE” sign.

5. The final delivery.

I made a point to drive by Mrs. Murray’s place several times a day for the next week, hoping to see her car in the driveway so that I could talk to Mrs. Murray and find out where she was moving to. Maybe to an apartment nearby, I thought, since a big house like this was a lot for a widow to take care of. How many times I had imagined moving in there myself.

In early August, I drove by and there was a big SOLD sticker over the realtor’s lawn sign. Still no sign of Mrs. Murray. I had almost given up hope of seeing her again, when one afternoon while I was turning in the keys to the pill cart, the owner gave me a couple of orders to deliver on my way home. I didn’t mind doing that since he was generous about slipping me money for gas when I used my own car.

I took the two bags and headed for my car in the back of the drug store. The one order was way across town but when I saw who the other order was for, I delivered that first one at top speed. After I dropped that one off, I had one delivery left, which was the bag with Joyce Murray’s address on it.

Mrs. Murray’s car was in the driveway so I pulled behind it and raced up the stairs to her door. She opened the door and greeted me as I reached for the bell and let me in. The house was full of boxes stacked up all over the living room, and the sight was depressing.

“Oh Adam. I’m so glad I got to see you again before I left,” Mrs. Murray said as I followed her into the kitchen. “I was going to drop you a line to give you my new address anyway, but I did want to say goodbye to you personally.”

“I saw you were selling the house,” I said nervously. “Where are you moving?”

“Florida!” Mrs. Murray said excitedly.

“Florida?” I groaned in response. “How… why are you going all the way down there?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a few years, and when the opportunity came up to teach down there I finally decided to go for it. My old bones just can’t take any more of these brutal New York winters,” Mrs. Murray said with a chuckle.

“You’re not old,” I said while my heart broke into a million pieces. “You can’t just leave like this.”

“The moving truck comes tomorrow morning and I drive down right behind it,” Mrs. Murray said, and as she spoke I guess she noticed that I was not taking this well at all.

“There’s nothing for me up here anyway, Adam dear,” Mrs. Murray said as she put her hand on my shoulder.

“Yes there is!” I said. “I’m up here.”

“I know Adam,” Mrs. Murray said with a smile. “And you can come visit me any time you’re down that way. I’d like that very much.”

“I don’t think you understand,” I choked out while trying to stay in control of my emotions, and not doing all that well at it. “I love you.”

There. It was out there at last, and my words hung in the air in the awkward seconds of silence that followed.

“I… I love you too Adam,” Mrs. Murray finally said. “You’ve always been my favorite student…”

“I don’t mean like that,” I blurted out. “I love you and I want to marry you and be with you for the rest of my life.”

“Adam honey,” Mrs. Murray said as she reached up and put both her hands on my shoulders. “Adam, I’m very flattered that you feel this way, but I’m an old woman. I’m going to be 50 next month. What’s a young boy like you want with an old bag like me anyway? There’s plenty of girls your own age who would love to be with you.”

“I’ve already been with plenty of girls,” I exaggerated wildly. “It’s you I love, and you aren’t old. You look exactly the same as you did when I was in your class. You’re still the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Mrs. Murray’s eyes twinkled at that and she squeezed my shoulders tightly and sniffled a little.

“So sweet Adam,” Mrs. Murray choked. “You’ve always been such a sweet boy.”

“I’m not a boy anymore,” I said with a false bravado. “I’m eighteen. I’m a man.”

This “man” was on the verge of fainting, and my knees were knocking together so hard that I thought you could hear it as I stood in front of Mrs. Murray and leaned toward her. After all the years of looking up at Mrs. Murray I was now eye to eye with her, and those emerald green eyes never looked so wide as our faces drew close and I kissed her.

It was just a tiny peck on those luscious full lips of hers, but it meant all the world to me, and it meant a lot that she didn’t slap me or throw me out either.

“Adam… we can’t, I can’t do this to you,” Mrs. Murray said. “It just isn’t right.”

So I kissed her again. Her back was against the kitchen cabinets, and as I kissed her again, I felt my erection press against her. Mrs. Murray must have felt it too, because she looked startled after the slightly longer kiss ended.

“Please… Joyce,” I addressed her for the first and only time of my life.

Mrs. Murray’s hands came up to my face, caressing my cheeks and running those long fingers through my hair. She was ever-so-slightly shaking her head no, and was still doing so even as she drew my face up to hers. This time the kiss was mutual, and it was no peck.

My hands went up and down Joyce’s back as we necked passionately. I ground my crotch into hers, and she responded by moving against me. After we broke our embrace, the next thing I remember was being in Joyce’s bedroom, but I have no memory of how we got there.

6. Joyce’s bedroom.

Joyce’s bedroom was in much the same disarray as the rest of the house, but the bed was still there and still had bedding on it. Mrs. Murray and I stood face to face next to the bed, and she slowly began unbuttoning my shirt.

I had no idea what to do next because I would have to knock her arms away to get to her blouse buttons, so I undid my belt and let my jeans drop to the floor. My shirt opened up, and Joyce’s hands ran across my chest as she pulled the garment off my shoulders.

I had worked my underwear over my gooey erection, and after Joyce got my shirt off of me, her hand traveled down my body and through the modest tuft of pubic hair above my dick. I shivered as her fingers slipped through the hair, and then I felt Joyce’s hand grasp my cock.

“Omigod Adam!” Mrs. Murray said in shock as her hand slid up the length of my erection.

When I looked down at Mrs. Murray’s long freckled fingers gripping my cock, the fantasy I had played out in my mind ever since I had figured out what sex was began playing out exactly as I had always dreamed. However, my ensuing reaction was something quite different from the scenario I had envisioned.

I came. Whether it was from Mrs. Murray’s gentle stroking, or should I say ‘stroke’ of my member, or from the way she had seemed to approve of what she was holding, didn’t much matter.

I bent over slightly when I realized what was about to happen, and as I let out a started squawk I watched helplessly as jets of cum spurted wildly out of my cock, spraying the floor and Mrs. Murray with the milky goo in spasms that didn’t seem to stop for the longest time.

As for me, I wanted to die, or maybe just crawling away in shame as I watched this nightmare unfold around me, but I fought back the urge and just stood there in utter humiliation as Mrs. Murray held my dripping dick.

“I’m… sorry,” I said as I tried to avert my eyes from Mrs. Murray’s.

“It’s alright Adam dear,” Mrs. Murray said as she lifted my chin with her hand. “That’s actually the nicest compliment you could pay an old lady like me, that I could excite you so much.”

“Please! Please stop saying that you’re old,” I insisted.

“Okay Adam,” Mrs. Murray said as she took my hands in hers. “Now where were we?”

Mrs. Murray brought my hands up to the top button of her blouse, and when I finally looked up at her she smiled and looked at me with eyes that told me once again everything was going to be fine.

My hands were trembling so badly that I was wrestling the buttons more than undoing them, but Mrs. Murray was patient and let me struggle through it. The freckles that I had long fantasized about were there in abundance, coating her shoulders and the upper part of her chest to where the bra blocked the view.

A bra. I had taken exactly two off in my life before this, and had experienced limited sucess at the effort. My hands reached up and grabbed the white quilted cups and I felt my first padded bra in the process. I reached around Mrs. Murray to do battle with the clips, but she leaned over and whispered in my ear, even though there was no one else to hear.

“Front hook Adam,” Mrs. Murray whispered. “I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed though.”

As long as I was able to get Mrs. Murray’s bra off without ripping it off, I was going to be happy. I didn’t care about how big her breasts were anyway. I knew she was very slender, but had never given much thought to what her breasts looked like. Now, as my fingers found the tiny hook hidden behind a tiny blue flower, I was about to find out.

Miraculously I managed to unhook the bra like I had made a career out of doing it, and as I pulled the cups away I watched as Mrs. Murray’s breasts came into view.

Oddly enough, the first thing I noticed was that the freckles pretty much ended where the bra had begun, and the skin below was a breathtakingly whiter shade of pale. The bra fell out of my hands as I stared at Mrs. Murray’s chest.

Mrs. Murray was flat-chested. Her breasts were tiny buds that were barely perceptable. Her nipples were another thing altogether; puffy red cones the size of strawberries that jutted out pertly and begged to be touched.

My hands came up and cupped her tiny breasts, and I felt the rubbery aureola stiffen in my palms as I masssaged Mrs. Murray’s chest. My eyes came up and met hers, and she looked at me in a vulnerable way, almost frightened that she had not met my expectations.

“They’re so beautiful,” I croaked as my mouth came down and enveloped the right bud, feeling the pebbly surface against my tongue as I swirled around it before going to the left one.

Mrs. Murray gasped as I went from breast to breast in an attempt to devour the little morsels. Never before and never since had I seen such an erotic sight as those magnificent buds, and my enthusiasm was welcomed by Mrs. Murray, who held my head tightly as I enjoyed them.

“Oooooh,” Mrs. Murray said softly while I sucked on the rubbery tips, and as she put her hand on top of my head my attention was diverted. As Mrs. Murray’s arm raised, I found myself staring at the thick tuft of hair that virtually exploded from the deep hollow of her armpit, and the gentle floral scent that I inhaled was equally pleasing.

My hands slid up from Mrs. Murray’s rib cage and my fingers “accidently” strayed under her arm. The hair was so fine and soft that it was almost like touching a cloud, and while I wanted so badly to do much more than that, I decided that she might think I was even more weird than I already appeared to be.

Instead I continued kissing her chest while my hands came down to the button on her jeans. I surprised myself by not fumbling with the obstacle, and after it came undone I pulled them down her incredibly long legs. Mrs. Murray lifted each foot for me and I tugged the jeans off of her, and I found myself with my face right in Mrs. Murray’s crotch.

Mrs. Murray was wearing rather fully cut white panties, but even the generous cut of the underwear could not contain the red hair that sprouted out from the insides of the leg holes. My hands came up to the elastic top of the panties which was just below the indentation of her pert navel.

As my trembling fingers eased the panties down, a thin strip of hair became visible just below her navel, a burnt orange in color. As the panties came down, the thin line of hair became thicker and darker, finally leading up to the immense triangle of thick hair that blanketed her womanhood.

I don’t remember whether Mrs. Murray eased herself down on the bed or I helped, but there she was on her back as I found myself spreading her freckled thighs and lowering my head into the wild jungle of hair.

I had only done this to one other girl in my life, and this part of a woman’s body was still pretty much a mystery to me. That girl’s pussy bore no resemblance to Mrs. Murray’s thickly furred grotto, and I initially feared that I wouldn’t be able to find the opening, but my nose perked up at the scent of an apparently aroused woman.

I burrowed my tongue through the bush, which was wonderfully soft and sweet smelling, and found my target with no problem. I wiggled my tongue around, and worked it up until I encountered a little nub, and when my tongue scraped up against it I felt Mrs. Murray jump.

At that reaction, I started lapping wildly at that general area. How good it was, I don’t know, but Mrs. Murray was running her hands through my hair and making little whimpering noises so I kept going. Her noises got a little louder, and the combination of those sounds, the sweet taste of Mrs. Murray’s pussy, and the feel of me grinding into the mattress as I tongued away had brought my cock back to life.

Fearing that I would lose control and cum, I pulled my head out from between Mrs. Murray’s legs. She seemed to try and keep my head down there as I rose, but I didn’t dare take the chance and screw up again because I was getting really excited.

The next thing I remember was being between Mrs. Murray’s legs with my erect and dripping cock springing around wildly in front of me. Mrs. Murray reached down and took my cock in her hand and drew me toward her.

“Please be gentle with me my baby,” Mrs. Murray said huskily. “It’s been a long time for me, and you’re very… well endowed.”

I didn’t think I was all that big, but I loved being told that I was. What I loved even more was slowly pushing my cock between the lips of Mrs. Murray’s pussy. She was so tight that I had to push a little bit, and when I felt the head of my cock pop in, I stopped for a second.

Mrs. Murray was squeezing my biceps in her hands with a strength that belied her appearance, and her head was straining off the bed. Every vein and muscle in her neck and shoulders was bulging as I slid myself into her, and I felt her pussy contracting and convulsing around my cock violently as I went deeper.

When my cock made it in to the hilt Mrs. Murray let out a scream that she seemed to try to supress but could not, and the sound brought a shiver throughout my entire body. I began pulling out of her, fearing that I had hurt her somehow. When she began thrashing around beneath me while I retracted myself, it suddenly occured to me that this was not pain. It was pleasure. Mrs. Murray was having an orgasm.

I began thrusting in and out of her as fast as I could, and Mrs. Murray was scratching and clawing at me like an animal. She calmed down for a few seconds but started bucking and screaming again as I kept humping.

I could not last, at least not nearly as long as I wanted to. The sight and sound of Mrs. Murray going crazy as a result of what I was doing was too much for me. I exploded inside of her, and as my cock spasmed Mrs. Murray’s hands cupped my ass cheeks, pulling me close as I came.

It might not have lasted very long, but at least I had not totally screwed up. By the flushed and dazed look on Mrs. Murray’s face, I might have done alright, and I eased down beside her on the bed and rolled on my back, both of us staring at the ceiling.

7. Resurrection.

My heart started beating normally again after a few moments, and I turned to face Mrs. Murray. She was still staring up into space, with her hand behind her head, seemingly deep in thought.

The soft glow of the setting sun that bled in through the blinds cast a beautiful glow on Mrs. Murray as my eyes enjoyed the view. As she laid on her back her breasts had completely disappeared except for those amazing aureolas that seemed to blossom even fuller to make up for it.

With her upraised arm, I got an incredible and unobstructed view of the wild spray of hair that seemed to explode out of the deep recess of her armpit. I stared at Mrs. Murray’s underarm as if hypnotized, and the combination of her tiny breasts and the unshaven armpits gave me a whole new outlook on how very different a woman could be yet still maintain her femininity. She looked so wild yet so soft at the same time, and I thought she looked incredible.

“That was so very nice Adam,” Mrs. Murray said, breaking me out of the trance I was in. When she looked over and saw me staring at her underarm, she looked startled.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Murray said in embarrassment as she started to bring her arm down. “That’s not very nice of me.”

“No, don’t,” I said, and grabbed her arm on the downswing and raised it back over her head. “It is nice… very nice.”

I brought my hand up and ran my fingers softly through the lush growth, not caring for the moment what Mrs. Murray though of what I was doing. She shuddered as my fingers reached the inside of her bicep where the hair stopped.

“Did I tickle you? Sorry,” I said as I looked up, feeling myself blush over what I was doing.

“No, it doesn’t tickle,” Mrs. Murray said as my fingers retraced their path and went back through her underarm. “I’m very sensitive there.”

I noticed that her eyes were sparkling a little, and Mrs. Murray smiled when our eyes met again.

“Nothing. It reminds me of something that Jerry used… never mind,” Mrs. Murray said. “Us old hippies die hard,” she said with a smile.

On an impulse I leaned over and kissed the inside of her bicep, and then slowly nibbled my way down through the almost impossibly soft fur, and Mrs. Murray arched herself off the bedding with the back of the head as I nuzzled my way through the thicket.

“Adam, that’s so…”

I didn’t know what that something was, but I had already begun poking my erection into her hip when she started speaking, and the shocked look on her face was priceless.

“Adam, you have to be kidding!” was what I think she said next. The answer to that was no, I wasn’t.

This time I lasted a lot longer, and as we went along, I got an education in a variety of new positions. They were all new to me, but I tried to be a quick learner. One minute we were sitting on the bed gently rocking in each other’s laps, the next minute Mrs. Murray was on all fours with me humping over her like a madman.

My hands ran all over her back, across the galaxy of freckles that I had so often fantasized about, and soon I was clutching Mrs. Murray tight as I felt her cum once again.

I finally came, with Mrs. Murray on top of me straddling my cock and playing me like an instrument. Her pussy worked over my cock as she humped me, and I struggled to withstand her efforts to make me orgasm.

I was just about ready to tell her that I was ready to go all night when she began to sway wildly on me. When she reached up and grabbed her hair, stretching and writhing, I was glad that I had kept my mouth shut, because the sight of her made me erupt inside of her.

Mrs. Murray smiled as my cock jerked inside of her, and she kept riding until my orgasm eventually ended before finally easing down off of me and cuddling up in my arms.

8. The end is near.

I must have dropped off for a few minutes, because when I opened my eyes the sun had gone down and the only light was coming from the hall light. Mrs. Murray had her back to me and I was holding her in my arms. I leaned forward to kiss her neck before nibbling my way down her shoulders. If there was a little more light I would have taken the opportunity to count her freckles like I had always dreamed, but seeing as the lighting was less than perfect I had a better idea.

“Oh Adam, you are insatiable!” Mrs. Murray said as she felt something between her butt cheeks that was very hard. I gently ground up against her, hoping for another lesson.

“Well…” I said softly.

“Honey, I have a big day ahead of me tomorrow,” Mrs. Murray said as she turned and raised herself up. “The movers are coming early and I’ve got to drive quite a ways. Besides, I’m just not used to all this, and I’m kinda sore down there!”

I might have pouted a little at hearing that, but I really don’t think so. Anyway, Mrs. Murray started to get up and roll off the bed but then stopped. She looked up at me and then slowly bent over me.

“You always could melt my heart,” Mrs. Murray said, just before she grabbed my erection.

As I watched in disbelief, Mrs. Murray bowed her head and ran her tongue over the crown of my cock. She looked up at me and smiled before wrapping her lips around me and sliding her mouth down my cock as her curly red locks fell down over her face.

I groaned loudly as Mrs. Murray’s head bobbed up and down, engulfing my cock in a moist and wonderful embrace. Reaching down, I pulled her hair up so I could watch this magnificent sight. Her tongue danced along the underside of my cock while her mouth slid up and down in a relentless rhythm.

There was no teasing here, as she was intent on making me cum, and cum quickly. Even if it hadn’t felt so wonderful, the sight of Mrs. Murray sucking and licking my cock would have done me in fast enough, despite my wanting this moment to last forever.

I tried to warn her that I was about to cum, but she didn’t seem to care, and she only hastened the process by taking me deeper and harder. When I began to cum, she swallowed my seed eagerly while working her fingers around the base of my dick to try and milk every last drop out of me. Even after I stopped groaning and moaning and my cock had begun to wither, she kept sucking until I finally pulled her off of me.

Our eyes met and her head came up, and I smiled when Mrs. Murray’s tongue darted over and captured a little drop of semen that had tried to trickle out of the corner of her mouth.

“Get dressed baby,” Mrs. Murray said as she patted my thigh before she climbed off the bed and walked out of the bedroom on her way to the bathroom.

Out of all the moments of that evening, the thing I remember as much or more than anything else was the graceful way she glided across the room. So smooth and almost cat-like, her lithe and sleek figure still magnificent after all these years, she looked back at me on the bed and smiled just before she turned the corner.

9. The end.

I thought about trying to see if I could talk her in to letting me stay the night, but decided against it. No point in ruining what had been the highlight of my life by pushing things, so I got dressed and used her facilities after she exited them.

Looking at myself in the mirror I looked ragged but not very different than I had a few hours earlier. I was different though, and I would never be the same again, and the feeling that gave me was bittersweet. After I got myself together I moved slowly out to the kitchen, while muscles that I had never used before screamed their discontent.

Mrs. Murray had a check for her delivery in her hand and I felt silly taking it, but realized how it would look if I told her to forget it. We walked silently to the front door as I searched for words that would possibly be enough to describe the way I felt.

“Adam, I hope this hasn’t changed the way you feel about me, because I would hate myself if it did,” Mrs. Murray said, and I noticed her eyes were as watery as mine were becoming.

“Well, when I got here I was in love with you,” I choked out. “Now I’m leaving and I’m still in love with you. Maybe more.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Murray said. “What we just shared was very special to me, I want you to know that. I certainly wasn’t expecting it to happen, but now that it did I’m very happy.”

“Not as happy as I am,” I assured you. “I waited a lifetime for this day, and it was even better than my wildest dreams.”

“I hope it was worth it,” Mrs. Murray said. “It was wonderful, and it will never happen again. You know that, right Adam?”

No I didn’t know that, and while hearing it hurt a little, I guess I understood. I stepped to the side and let Mrs. Murray open the door for me, but as I started to go outside she stopped me.

“I wasn’t ever going to tell you this, but I feel like I have to,” Mrs. Murray said. “You probably don’t remember this, but one day my husband Jerry came to visit me at school just before he got shipped out.”

“He was wearing his uniform, and he spoke to us about being in the Marines,” I said interrupting her. “You took out a map and showed us where Vietnam was. Then it was lunch time and we all went down to the cafeteria,”

Mrs. Murray’s face lit up as I rattled on about that day she thought I had forgotten.

“Everybody in our class shook his hand as they left, and I was the last person in the room,” I continued. “I shook his hand and left the room, and when I turned the corner I looked back and saw him kissing you, and that’s when I was sure I hated him.”

Mrs. Murray laughed that musical laugh that never failed to make me smile, and shook her head in disbelief.

“I guess you do remember after all,” Mrs. Murray said. “Well, what he had said before we kissed was very important to me. He said that you were so adorable that it was no wonder that you were my favorite. Then he said that when he got home he’d be out of the service for good and we were going be able to finally start our family, and hopefully have children just like you. Those were the words I had waited all my life for. As it turned out…”

We stood at the doorway and cried in each other arms for a long time, and when I finally did step outside we were both drained physically and emotionally.

“Have a wonderful life, Adam,” Mrs. Murray said.


I have had a wonderful life. I’ve also remained in touch with Mrs. Murray, or should I say Mrs. Barnett, since a couple of years ago she got married to a teacher she had met down in Florida.

I was invited to the wedding and made the trip gladly. Over the years we had seen each other several times but had never said a word about that day we shared, but there was really no need to, because we had already said everything that two people could say to each other.

I shook Mr. Barnett’s hand as I moved through the reception line, and after introducing myself his eyes lit up.

“Oh, you’re the fellow Joyce always talks about,” he said while he pumped my hand enthusiastically. “Her favorite student ever!”

“She’s the most wonderful woman there is,” I told him. “Everything I ever really needed to know in life, I learned from her. I think you happen to be the luckiest man in the world.”

Have a wonderful life yourself, Mrs. Barnett.

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