Top
    


COURTSHIP OF EDDIE'S FATHER: Mrs. Livingston, I Presume

By Uncle Mike


Tom Corbett did up the clasps on his son's suitcase and
hoisted it off the bed.

"OK, Tiger, that should do it," he said, tousling Eddie's hair
as he led the little boy toward the living room. "Now,
remember: You do everything Mr. or Mrs. Gilstrup tell you to
do, just like you'd mind me or Mrs. Livingston. No horsing
around, no back talk. Understand? Great."

As they came into the room, Sarah Gilstrup got up. "All
ready?" she asked in her reedy voice. "Are you ready to spend
the night with us, Eddie? I know Billy's looking forward to it."

Eddie nodded, but there was a tiny tear in his eye as he
took her hand and walked out the door. At the last second, he
turned and looked back -- and then ran and hugged his dad,
who squatted down to meet him. "Hey, Tiger, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Eddie said into his dad's shoulder. "It's just ...
I'm gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Eddie," Tom said, rising to his feet
again. "But it's just for one night. And you and Billy can play
together and watch TV and everything. And I'll be by bright
and early tomorrow morning to pick you up. Have fun!" He
shooed them out the door, figuring it would be better to get
Eddie on his way before his second thoughts had third
thoughts.

He'd hurried home from work at the magazine so he could
be there to send Eddie off, but now he had a couple of hours to
kill until his date with Karen. He smiled at the thought, a
broad grin that showed off his pearly white teeth. Karen was
someone very special. She wasn't wife material (at the
thought, a brief cloud passed over his face as he thought of
Eddie's mom) but she was definitely bed material. Karen was a
stewardess with a perfect body, tanned and shapely. And
judging by his progress in their first two dates, tonight's
third would be the one. She'd even made a point of telling him
her roommates would be out of town for the weekend. Tom's
cock throbbed at the thought, pressing against his shorts.

Just as he was musing over Karen's readiness, however,
the phone rang. He grabbed it up, half-afraid that some crisis
at the office would have his secretary begging him to come
back.

No such luck. Instead, it was Karen. Apparently some kind
of flu bug was knocking out the airline's staff left and right;
she'd have to fill in on an overseas flight leaving in just an
hour.

"I'm really sorry, Tom," she cooed. "I was really looking
forward to tonight." She paused. "Really."

As he hung up, Tom cursed his luck. Just the sound of
Karen's voice had gotten him harder, and the promise in that
last "really" had almost made him cum. But now he had nothing
to do and no one to do it with.

He paced the apartment like a lion, stopping here to pick up
a book and toss it down in disgust, there to dig through the
kitchen shelves but find nothing that caught his eye. The blood
was hot in his veins and he was like a caged animal, desperate
for release. Finally his eye settled on his old bike, shoved into
a corner of his closet two years ago. Maybe he'd go for a ride,
that might help. He hauled it out and tried it out: it was balky
and the tires were flat. In a half-frenzy he yanked open
drawers and ran his hands along shelves everywhere until he
came up with a wrench and a can of oil.

He wheeled the bike into the bathroom and took it apart,
oiling here, tightening there. But when he tried to put it back
together, he ended up with two or three pieces left over and
now the wheels wouldn't turn at all. He almost threw the bike
against the wall in disgust, but he caught himself and shoved
it back into the closet instead. As he did, he caught a glimpse
of himself in the mirror. He was covered with oil and grime.

Eager for anything to do, he decided to shower off the crud.
He turned the taps on full blast and stripped, dropping his
filthy clothes into the hamper and stepping under the steamy
blast.

The jets of hot water tingled as they blasted into his body.
He took his time, lathering up and rinsing off again and again.
It didn't help much with his other problem; his cock was still
mostly erect. Maybe, he thought, I should have tried a cold
shower -- but even under the hot mist he shivered at the
thought. Finally he shut off the taps and the spray petered off
to a few drips.

As the water stopped, he heard an noise that seemed to
come from somewhere in the apartment. He paused, listening
hard. Must be hearing things, he thought. He began to pull back
the sliding door on the shower.

He could never decide, thinking back on it later, which
happened first: Did he remember that Mrs. Livingston had
taken the afternoon off because she was coming in that
evening to finish her cleaning while he and Eddie were both
gone -- or did he do that only after he saw the little Asian
woman staring at him?

It didn't much matter, anyway, considering what happened
next.

Tom stood half in and half out of the shower stall. Water
was still dripping off his well-muscled body, matting down
his dark hair. His cock was still erect, pointing directly at
Mrs. Livingston.

She was in a simple housedress, her hand still on the
doorknob, her mouth open.

Finally she spoke, in a strangled whisper. "Mr. Eddie's
father!"

He took a step toward her and reached out a hand in what
he thought was a calming gesture. She didn't seem to get the
message. She shrank back against the sink, her hands grabbing
behind her for support. She was a small, compact Asian
woman, dark hair pulled back tightly from her face. Though
she was a godsend around the house, Tom had never felt
completely comfortable around her, and the situation
certainly didn't make things any easier this time.

"I thought..." she said.

"My date..." he said.

"... you go out tonight," she finished.

"... canceled on me," he finished.

"Oh," she said, but from the look on her face she didn't
seem to understand at all. "I go now."

"No," Tom said. What he meant was, no, you can still clean.
But as he said it, he took another step forward -- he had
spotted a towel on the rack next to the sink and he was going
for it. Mrs. Livingston's eyes widened and she looked around
for an escape route. In the same second that she turned and
darted for the door, Tom lunged for the towel -- almost
tackling her.

"No, Mr. Eddie's father, no!" she shouted, ducking down
beneath his arm.

"Mrs. Livingston," he said, trying to get out of her way. But
his wet feet slipped on the tiles and he had to lunge out for
support. The closest thing to grab, as it happened, was Mrs.
Livingston.

She began to lose her balance as well and they fell over,
almost in slow motion, as their hands grabbed for the walls
and doors but couldn't get any secure grips.

They ended up on the floor, Tom on top. His hard cock was
pressing against Mrs. Livingston's belly. The pressure drew
forth an instinctive response, and he rubbed himself against
her. She tried to wiggle away, but that only increased the
friction on his cock, exciting him even more.

"Mr. Eddie's father, please," she pleaded, and Tom realized
what he'd been doing. He struggled to his feet. As he did, Mrs.
Livingston's dress stuck to his damp skin. By the time he was
standing up he had managed to pull it up to her chest.

He looked down. He had never thought of the Japanese
woman as at all sexy; she always wore unflattering clothes.
He never was really sure how old she was; it's always hard to
tell with Asian women.

But as he looked down, his image of her changed quickly. At
least from the stomach down, she was built like a Barbie doll:
flat stomach, swelling hips, well-curved legs. A small pair of
red cotton panties at her crotch was slightly askew, and a
few curly black hairs showed around the edges. My God, he
thought, she may not be young anymore but she's still got it.
The doll-like look of Asian women had always excited him;
they looked frail enough to break if you touched them, but hot
enough that he always wanted to fuck any one he saw. And
now he could.

He stood over her without moving. She seemed to get over
her initial shock as she lay on the floor and when she looked
up at him now, it was without the deer-in-the-headlights
look she'd had in the bathroom. Instead, she seemed to be
appraising him.

Then, to Tom's surprise, Mrs. Livingston grabbed the hem of
her dress in both hands and lifted it over her head as she sat
up.

As she tossed the dress aside, he saw the curves of her
small breasts as they disappeared into a demure white bra.
Her skin was a pale yellow, almost golden. It seemed to
glisten in the sunlight streaming in from the living room
windows as she stood up.

She took a step toward him and turned around. "You do?"
she asked over her shoulder, and Tom reached down and
unhooked her bra. As he stepped forward and put his arms
around her, cupping her dainty breasts in his big hands, his
cock pressed into the middle of her back. She wiggled back
against it. Confused thoughts flickered through his brain: had
she been sending out signals all along? How had he missed
them? He must really be out of practice.

With his arms still around her, Mrs. Livingston led Tom
into the bedroom. He had to take small steps to match hers,
and his cock rubbed up and down her back as they walked.

As they got inside the little woman turned toward him.
With a sparkle in her eye she looked him up and down. "Mr.
Eddie's father very big man," she said, nodding her head. "But
Mrs. Livingston can take, I think."

Tom smiled. "I think -- I think you can take me very well,
Mrs. Livingston."

She took a step back and sat down on the edge of the bed,
motioning him forward. He saw her small lips open into an "O"
as the tip of his fat cock bobbed in front of her. Her breath
was a warm breeze on his shaft as she looked up at him.

"Mr. Eddie's father," she said, "I think about this time lots.
Maybe you do, too?"

He smiled and nodded. He was certainly thinking about it
now. "Put my cock in you," he murmured. "I want you to taste
me."

"I hope you like," she said as she moved slightly forward,
taking the head of his cock into her mouth.

Her motion was easy but tantalizingly slow as she took
him in bit by bit. With her small hands she grasped the base of
his cock, too long to fit in her throat, and stroked gently. Tom
reached down and massaged her breasts, watching the small
nipples blossom in the middle of the tiny brown circles until
they stood out stiffly.

Meanwhile Mrs. Livingston increased her pace and brought
him to orgasm, swallowing his load as he shot it down her
throat.

"Now Mr. Eddie's father do me?" she said coyly, sliding
back on the bed.

"I'm afraid I don't have much experience at this," he said,
ducking his head.

"Is all right, Mr. Eddie's father. I teach," she said softly,
spreading her legs and exposing the pink lips of her pussy to
him.

Tom crawled onto the bed and bent his head to her. She
instructed him in her broken English as he learned to please
her, licking and suckling all the places she pointed out. As her
passion grew a heady odor rose from her cunt and juices began
to flow.

"Put finger in, Mr. Eddie's father," she said huskily. "Put
finger in now!"

He did as she instructed, burying his index finger in her
soaking-wet tunnel. She trembled all over when he slid it
home and then urged him on as Tom stroked her to a bucking
orgasm.

"Very good," she said, and Tom noticed it was the same
tone of voice she used when Eddie remembered to put his dirty
clothes in the hamper. He found sex with an older woman -- or
at least what he guessed was an older woman -- far more
exciting than he ever would have dreamed. It made him feel
young again, being schooled in the ways of love by an
apparently expert teacher.

His cock had grown thick and hard again, and Mrs.
Livingston lifted her legs up and motioned him forward. Eager
to obey, he placed his cock at her slippery pussy lips and slid
it in.

"My God, you're tight," he said in surprise. In response, the
little woman pursed her lips as she squeezed her vaginal
muscles. He felt them grab his cock and then let go. She
squeezed and released again and again, drawing him near an
orgasm before she let up.

This time he took charge, easing his cock further in until
it was buried to the hilt.

"See, Mr. Eddie's father," she said, "You are big, but I can
take it." And she began to move with his thrusts, bucking her
hips against him as she raised her head up and softly nuzzled
his hairy chest.

Shifting his weight from one arm to the other, Tom kept up
the erotic rhythm. "You fuck very nice," Mrs. Livingston huffed
and puffed, "Very nice. I like very muuuuuuccchh!" Another
orgasm caught her by surprise and almost lifted her off the
bed, but the pistoning of Tom's cock pinned her to the
mattress again and again. "Damn, you're tight," he muttered as
he felt her velvet walls grip his shaft.

At last he felt his cum boil up and explode out of him,
blasting into her hot cunt. But as soon as he had shot his wad
and his cock had started to wither, Mrs. Livingston grasped it
with her vaginal muscles and massaged it back to hardness.

"Mrs. Livingston, you've got a talented cunt!" he gasped,
feeling his cock swell to fill her pussy again. Her only reply
was to wiggle her ass, sending a shiver of ecstasy through his
entire body.

Again they took up the primal motion. Mrs. Livingston
locked her legs around Tom's waist as she tried to take him,
as she shouted, "Deeper! Deeper, please, deeper!
Give me all of
it!"

"You'll get it all," Tom groaned. "I'm gonna fill that tight
cunt of yours with cum!"

"Yes, Mr. Eddie's Father! Fill my cunt!"

Tom's final orgasm, when it came, was a blast of passion
that left him drenched in sweat while Mrs. Livingston
convulsed beneath him in the throes of her own cumming.

As he rolled off her a few minutes later, Mrs. Livingston
gave out a small sigh as his now-shriveled cock popped out of
her cunt. Tom closed his eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep,
waking only when Mrs. Livingston shook him.

"Mr. Eddie's father, I leaving now," she said. He blinked and
rubbed his eyes, looking around. It was dark now, just the


glow of a bedside lamp illuminating the room. Mrs. Livingston
had gotten dressed and -- he glanced around -- apparently
cleaned up, too.

"I left bed unmade," she said with a giggle. "You fix?"

"Yes, sure, I'll do it," Tom said groggily.

"Thank you. I come next week!" With that, Mrs. Livingston
turned and wiggled her Japanese behind at him as she left.

Tom looked after her, still staring at the doorway long
after she'd gone. By the time he got up the next morning, he
almost thought he must have dreamed everything.

But when he reached into his underwear drawer for a fresh
pair, something crinkled. He fished it out: a note written in
Mrs. Livingston's tiny handwriting.

"Mr. Eddie's father," she wrote, "You one very good fuck. I
think it would be very good thing if Eddie go to his friend's
house all next weekend, yes?" It was signed, not "Mrs.
Livingston," but with an imprint of her lips in her pale pink
lipstick.

He carefully folded the note and put it back in the drawer.
Yes, he said to himself, it was time Eddie learned to be a
little more independent.

    

Back 1 page


Submit stories to: [email protected](dot)com
with the title heading "TSSA Story Submission"



Bottom