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The yell was almost deafening to the fifteen, almost sixteen years old boy, and his hand, about to grab and pet the turgid breast cringed as if bitten by a scorpion, his face was a masque of confusion, as he sent a look of heartbroken bewilderment to his mother, not understanding the reason for such a fierce cry. He was just trying to do what he thought, both of them, his thirty five years old mother and he wanted, what she had been causing with her permanent and mercilessly erotic and sexualy charged flirting in recent months with her son.
“WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? YOU PERVERT “
His mother, a very gorgeous and beautiful woman was the centre of his dreams and the cause of his undesirable permanent nocturnal emissions.
“Nothing, I…I…I have just thought…”
“What did you think you thought you little pervert, trying to get a feel and grip your mother that way”
“I…I…I am sorry mom…..I. I. I… just….” stammered the boy, and with a sob darted away. He ran, ran, and ran out and away from home, his mother’s cry, which he loved with a desperate passion, piercing his eardrums in her scorn and rejection. He did swear himself never; never again would he be in a position so humiliating with any woman, least of all with his mother. While the tears flowed freely down his cheeks he promised himself never, never again be humiliated in this way by any person in the whole world.


1)
It was a dark and stormy night several months later. Rain and slate was coming down in sheets and wind was sweeping it around furiously. Doors and windows were trembling against the onslaught of both air and water on the dilapidated house where some boys and other street people had taken refuge; Pierce Bridgeport, because of the resulting cold was almost sick.
It was a dreadful night. The blanket over him was not thick enough to keep the cold from seeping in and the small brazier next to his sleeping mattress on the floor was too weak to keep anything warm. There wasn’t heat, only a small comfort in the dim red glow coming from the few, almost burned out coals, overshadowed every now and then by the bright lightning in the skies
He was counting his heartbeats to keep his attention away from the roaring thunder and to occupy his thoughts with something other than the weather and memories of his parents, mostly of his mother; and of his warm bed and comfortable room in what he now thought of as his former and lost forever home. At sixteen years old, and protected from the worst aspects of life, nature’s ferocity was unsettling to say the least.
Somewhere along the way, in the wee hours of the night, the cold became even more biting, when his body started to shiver in an effort to instinctively warm itself, he realized that the red glow from the brazier was no more. Coal had gone and there were only ashes. He curled himself into as tight a foetal position as he could; wrapped himself from all around to minimize the cold coming inside the blanket and started praying. Night was more than half way over and the rain wasn't showing any signs of subsiding and he started dreaming.
####
They were at the poolside, mother’s beautiful tanned body dressed in a so skimpy bikini she didn’t ever use when father was around or when they went as a family to the beach.

Natasha Bridgeport stretched her long, slender body on the huge towel, the hot sun heating her. She rested her face on crossed arms, her smoldering eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Her rich luxuriant blonde white hair moved lazily in the slight breeze of the hot afternoon. Sitting at her side, her young son Pierce was pouring tanning oil onto her back, rubbing it into her satiny flesh; his hands felt good on her skin, the slow way they moved up and down from her shoulders to her skimpy bikini bottom. She had untied her halter, not wanting to have a tell-tale strip of whiteness on her flesh. It was bad enough she had to wear the bottom, as it was.

Natasha would have preferred to have been nude, completely naked to the rays of the midday sun. But she certainly couldn’t strip off on her son side, could she? Even without people around. She didn’t like going to the public beach much, it was better for her purpose be at the bedside pool on her backyard. She murmured softly as Pierce’s hands kept up their movements, massaging her flesh gently, almost too lightly. She shifted her shoulders, finding a more comfortable pressure on her tits. To look at her, one would have thought she was dozing as her son rubbed the oil into her flesh, but Natasha was wide awake, her eyes open behind the dark sunglasses. She was watching her son, her eyes taking in the changes in his body, the shapes and forms of his abs, his young muscles, and the bulge below.

“Your skin is so soft, Mom,” she heard Pierce say softly.

“Mmmm,” she replied lazily.

“I like to feel your skin,” I said as I worked my hands up and down her back.

She purred with excitement, gazing at the young boy nearby, her son, her eyes fixed upon the enticing bulge of his swimsuit. She wondered how big the boy's cock was, how big his balls were, if they were full, loaded. Natasha liked full balls, hot balls. She especially liked what they contained.

She then turned around on the towel and sat.

“Darling, would you mind getting me a paper towel, please?”

I looked at her and saw her hand putting thin drops of milky sun cream over the front her body to protect her of the sunrays; the cream appeared to be leaking from her exposed and engorged nipple. I stared mesmerised a few moments too long and when I came to my senses I found my mother staring right into the boner I was sporting with a huge grin on her face. I blushed and immediately went into the house and the kitchen, it took me a few seconds to get my wits and remember why I had went inside the house, that gorgeous shinning breast with its dark angry red nipple was making me crazy. Then I looked for and found the paper towels, grabbing a handful and carrying them to her.

Mother laughed when she looked up to see him standing there handing her almost the whole pack. She looked up at me, who looked almost drunk and to the bulge in my shorts and said laughingly,

“Your big little brother down there thinks mommy made a big mess with the sun screen, doesn't he? Yes he does.” She looked up and smiled. “I only need one, Sweetie.”

With shaking hands I had ripped the first towel from the pack to shreds and cursed under my breath for being so stupid.

”It's all right, Baby. There are plenty more where that came from,” his mom had told him.

And then, when I felt it, I almost fainted. My mom's foot was pressing against the inside of my leg, just below the knee, her toes were lightly scraping and playing as I was standing in front of her.

She chuckled again and he quickly tore off another paper towel and waited as she wiped her fingers and then her bare breast. Sweat drops dribbled between and under her breasts and she roughly ran the paper towel up and across her breast and nipples. He was almost catatonic and for some reason couldn't bring himself to move from his position in front of his mother, and then her foot which she had pressed harder against his leg had and moved up and down his calf, he had wondered at the moment if he was misreading things; that she was just using his leg to keep balance and not flirting with him. But she knew, yes she knew her impact in the still developing libido of her son.

####

Somewhere between the knocking of windows, clapping of the thunder, and banging of the rain on the doors, and in between dreams of his mother he heard a creak, then a small hand shook him through the blanket and he heard a smaller boy saying,

"Move over Pierce, please, so I can get in with you. I’m freezing”.

Some of the kids taking shelter that night in the decrepit house, had ran away from home like him and became street kids, while others, non living in the street, when they left school, hung around the shopping mall pinching old ladies handbags, stealing little things and stuff like that. Pierce went with them, they were his new pals, but the first time the group had problems with the police, as he was the least experienced and wise with life on the streets bore all the blame, both his and that of the others.

Belonging to a good and respected family, and being a minor, the judge ordered to call his parents to decide what punishment he was going to apply. The boy was adamant, when his parents arrived at the Court House were informed he would talk with his father only; he wouldn’t see or talk to his mother. His father, a respected neurosurgeon and college professor went alone to talk with his son in custody.
As it was, he was sent to a young offender's institute until he was eighteen and as luck would have it, there was where he picked up the diving bug and love for the ocean from a young intern whose father was a professional diver, it was something that would change his life forever. He was very lucky because he was good at physics and maths, and maybe, that was what got him the apprenticeship to become a sub-aquatic welder.
On his release, he went to a swimming and diving school and at the same time persuaded his father to pay for him to go to college on a very technical course of underwater electric and argon welding which proved to be a very sound investment, he graduated eighteen months later and soon was working in the oil industry, after a year, being twenty one, he was sent to work at the construction site of several high sea oil rigs and platforms where he become an specialist and earned fantastic wages in the North sea, Gulf of Mexico and elsewhere ever since.
2)


Natasha Bridgeport, neé Sorenson, was the only offspring of a couple formed by third generation Norwegian immigrants in the mountain ranges of Idaho, near Montana. In fact the nearest town to their family ranch is Clark Fork over interstate 95. Despite her parents being strict Presbyterians, she was a loved and pampered girl, not strange to the works of the ranch as any hand would, who went from a long legged and adorable teenager to a beautiful young woman. She had inherited the genes of her norwegian ancestors; good and long bones, which sustained the frame of a spectacular slim and trim body of 5 foot nine, 125 pounds with coltish long muscular legs, which ended in supple hips with an intriguing view of that magical area where a woman's legs transform into a round and perk derriere, she had a tiny waist with hourglass shape and an incredible pair of 36 inches breasts roughly the size of medium-sized oranges, they were up thrust and proud; her nipples were pale pink and somewhat thicker and longer than the average pencil eraser. The areoles that surrounded them were quarter-sized and similarly pale pink and quite smooth.

The vision of this goddess was completed with her hair long and fair, blonde almost white, that she used in a pony–tail that went almost to her waist and framed an unforgettable face of large jade or emerald green eyes, natural full rose colored lips that were maybe just a touch wide; she has a small and straight nose, with toned and tanned skin, firm and supple, with only a few laugh and sun lines around her eyes. Her cheekbones were high and well-defined. The small vee of hair that covered her pubic mound was thin and light honey coloured, and she kept it neatly landscaped. This gorgeous person, this goddess, was eighteen years old when she left her parents ranch to go east, to Boston Medical College to learn how to become a registered nurse and a lady world wise, she got her second wish, and instead of the first (becoming a registered nurse) she met her destiny.

Dale Bridgeport was an eminent neurosurgeon and twenty four years Natasha’s senior.
Now in his early forties, Dr Bridgeport still rated second glances from women. He had retained the build which had made him an outstanding quarterback in his college years —a tall erect figure with big, broad shoulders and muscular arms. Even nowadays he has a trick of squaring his shoulders when ready to do something difficult or make a decision—as if readying instinctively the charge of a red-dogging tackle. Yet despite his bulk, mostly bone and muscle with less than a pound of overweight, he still moves lightly, like a dancer.

He had never been handsome in the Adonis sense, but he had a rugged, creased irregularity of face, his nose still carried the scar of an old football injury, which women so often, and perversely, find attractive in men. Only his hair showed traces of the pass of time; his not so long ago jet black hair, now it was graying swiftly as if the color of pigments had suddenly surrendered and were marching out.

When Natasha first arrived at campus in Boston form rural Idaho the change was like an earthquake in her life, she was dazzled, and amazed by everything she saw. It was a new world. In the first weeks she went from surprise to surprise, everything was new and different and exciting, her classmates, hospital technology, every think was amazing, but soon her curriculum demands, the work routine of the nurse block, and having to do, as a rookie, the heavier and boring tasks, made what had been a wonderful impression in the first moments, loose its luster in the light of reality; in the opacity of a job that was dramatically exciting and glamorous on TV series only. However, her life would change dramatically in a few months. She was going to meet her future.

####

From the corridor outside there was the sound of feet. Then the autopsy-room door opened, and a nurse, whom Natasha recognized as a member of the nursing school’s teaching staff, looked in. She said,

“Good morning Dr Bridgeport” behind her was a group of young student nurses.

“Good morning” answered the neuro surgeon. “You can all come in”

The students filed through the doorway. There were six, and as they entered all glanced nervously at the body on the table. Dr Bridgeport grinned.

“Hurry up girls. You want the best seats; we have them”.

Dale Bridgeport ran his eyes appraisingly over the group. There were a couple of new ones here he had not seen previously, including the young blonde girl. He took a second look. Yes indeed; even camouflaged by the Spartan student’ uniform, it was evident here was something very special. With apparent casualness he crossed the autopsy room, then, returning, managed to position himself between the girl he had noticed and the rest of the group. He gave her a broad smile and said quietly,

“I don’t remember seeing you before”

“I’ve been around as long as the other girls” She looked at him with a mixture of frankness and curiosity, then added mockingly,

“Besides, I’ve been told that doctors never notice first-year nursing students anyway”

He appeared to consider, “Well, it’s a general rule. But sometimes we make exceptions—depending on the student, of course”

His eyes candidly admiring, he added, “By the way I’m Dale Bridgeport”

He didn’t say, “I’m Dr Dale Bridgeport”; No, just his name, that was class.

She answered, “I’m Natasha Sorensen” and laughed, them catching a disapproving eye from her class instructor, she stopped abruptly.

Natasha had liked the looks of this dark haired and mature professor, but it did seem wrong to be talking and joking in here. After all, the man on the table was dead. He had just died, she had been told upstairs; that was the reason she and the other student nurses had been taken from their work to watch an autopsy. A brain’s autopsy. The eminent neuro-surgeon Dr Bridgeport, performing.

To say Dale Bridgeport had been struck by Natasha’s youth and beauty is a no-brainer. She was different from the students to which he was used, she had not the sophisticated or sometimes predator style of the girls in the big city. Her attitude had an unusual freshness in the environment in which he moved, he was sure that those features would not last long, and he proposed to himself to seize them and make her his, It didn’t matter how, even if he had to abandon his desirable bachelorhood and marry her. He had fallen in love with a young woman who was old enough to be his daughter. But she was not.

####

The cafeteria of the hospital was a traditional meeting place for most of the hospital grapevine; few events occurred inside its walls –promotions, scandals, firings, and hirings – which were not known and discussed in the cafeteria long before they became official.

Medical staff frequently used the cafeteria for “curbstone consultations” with colleagues whom they seldom saw except as a meal or coffee break. Generally the cafeteria was a democratic area where hospital rank, if not forgotten, was at least temporarily ignored. An exception, possibly, was the practice of setting aside a group of tables for the medical staff.

With few exceptions the senior attending physicians used the reserved tables. House staff, however, was less consistent, residents, interns and eventually some professor joined the nurses and other groups. There was nothing unusual, therefore, in Dr Dale Bridgeport dropping into a chair opposite Natasha Sorensen who, released from an assignment earlier than some of her fellow student nurses, was eating lunch alone.
Since they had met a few days before in the autopsy room, Natasha had occasionally encountered Dr Bridgeport in the hospital corridors and on each occasion -- seeing his elegant bearing, his dark hair strewn with silver threads and his buying smile—she had increasingly come to like the look of him. Intuitively she had expected that soon he might make a direct approach to her, and now here he was.

“Hi” Dr Bridgeport said.

“Uh, hello” the greeting was awkward. Natasha had just bitten a chicken leg and had her mouth full; then mumbled “Excuse me”.

“That’s perfectly all right,” “Bon appetit and take your time, I’m here to make you a proposition”

She finished her mouthful of leg chicken, and then said: “I thought, usually, that was supposed to come later”

Dale Bridgeport grinned. “Haven’t you heard? -- This is the jet age. No time for formal frills. Here’s my proposition; theater the day after tomorrow, proceeded by dinner at the Cuban Grill.”

Natasha asked curiously “Can you afford it?” Among home staff and student nurses poverty was a time honored, rueful joke.

Dale lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t tell a soul, but I’m on a side line. Those patients we got in autopsy. A lot of them have gold fillings in their teeth; it’s a very simple matter…”

“Oh shut up, you’ll ruin my lunch” She bit the chicken leg again, and Dale reached over and took two of her french fries.

“Well, will you come?”

“I’d love to,” Natasha said, and she meant it.

“Great ¡ I’ll pick you up at your apartment at seven o’clock. Okay? As he spoke Dale Bridgeport found himself regarding this girl with even greater interest. He was suddenly aware that she had a deal more than a pretty face and a good figure. When she looked at him and smiled it conveyed the feeling of something warm and fragrant.

“Okay,” Natasha said. “I might be a little late but not much.”

####

Afterward, Dale had driven Natasha home, she had recently moved from nurses quarters to a not as large as fashionable apartment not far from not far from medical school and hospital.

She had said, “You’ll come in for a nightcap, of course”

He left his car in the parking lot and followed her. They rode the gleaming, silent elevator to her floor, and then turned down a birch paneled corridor, their footsteps silenced by the deep broadloom. He had raised his eyebrows and Natasha timidly smiled.

“It is a little awesome, isn’t it, it was my parent’s idea, they are a little old fashioned and disagree with what they thought the promiscuity of the nurses building, I’m still impressed myself.”

She had used her key to open a door and inside touched a switch. Tasteful, subdued lighting sprang in an elegant lounge. He could see the partly opened door of a bedroom, directly ahead.

“Would you like a drink” she asked.

Her back to him, ice clinked and she asked, “Dale, you have never married?”

“No” he had answered to her back. And said to himself “I’ve sometimes wondered why”

Natasha turned, carrying the drinks and gave Dale his, then moved to a chair.

He said thoughtfully,” Now I think of it, I wanted a career in medicine. At the time it seemed terrible important. That and marriage didn’t seem to go together”

She asked, “Any regrets?”

Dale considered, “Not really, at least not until now, I’ve achieved what I wanted, I have my niche in medicine, I am respected and I think I’m a good surgeon. Of course, sometimes one wonders how things would have turned out with a different decision, but after all, that’s the human condition isn’t it?”

“I suppose so” she was strangely moved, there was a sense of depth and tenderness about Dale.

“I’m no longer dogmatic about anything” he smiled. “That at least I’ve learned with age”.

Natasha wondered what, from her own point of view, marriage to Dale would be like. Would there be love and mellowness, how would they adjust? If married how would they spend their time after his work time. Would the talk be intimate and domestic? Or would it be about his work and hospital.

Dale has finished his drink and rose to leave; he realized they both had said more than had passed in words.

“There is really no need for you to go Dale. Stay if you wish; I wish you would stay” Natasha had said it simply, and knew if he stayed it would be up to him what happened next.

3)

And so he stayed, as the evening progressed, with wine and his constant and very gratifying attention, her nipples had hardened again and again, finally sending her to the bathroom to place some tissue between her pussy and panties to absorb the moisture she involuntarily was producing. Yet, for all his teasing, he remained the perfect gentleman seeping his drink and placing, from time to time, his hand in hers with a subtle caress; as their hands touched, the contact sent impassioned flames of desire coursing through their bodies. After a while and several drinks later Dale considered prudent to end the night and go home.

Both their libidos were highly aroused as they parted company. Each stimulated to orgasm dreaming of the other in their beds that night. Hormones he had forgotten in his mature years renewed his interest in sex and life as they raced through his body, followed by the goose bumps and shivers they produced.

Next morning he noticed the more conservative clothing she wore when she arrived at the nurse’s station to work with the team. He was in love with her, knowing it to be the foolish dreams of a sexually deprived older man. He forcibly shoved his growing desire to the back of his mind. She, on the other hand, allowed her growing love of him to blossom and began to contrive how she might seduce him without letting him know she was the aggressor. Natasha understood he was of the old school and that he believed he should make the first move.

The next night, after he had invited her to dinner again, she planned her wardrobe carefully picking what she believed to be the most provocative yet, demure, elegant, and classy outfit she could devise. Natasha wore a short skirt and a semi-opaque blouse of a gauzy material; she decided to use her new underwear, a Victoria’s Secret tiny set, allowing her pendulous bosom sway and jounce with every movement she made.
She completed her dressing with an elegant and light coat of black leather, and knee high leather boots,

He watched her mesmerized as she slowly walked down to the curb where he had his car waiting, but the glimpses she allowed him galvanized him to new heights of fervency. As he opened her side of the car door he was afforded a quick peek of her long and beautiful thighs. His long time forgotten hormones raged as he attempted to hide his unusual arousal from her, yet he still insisted on being the perfect gentleman, despite the blouse that allowed her erect nipples to be examined albeit only slightly through the semi opaque material and the leather coat.

After a wonderful dinner, well watered with two bottles of excellent Merlot, from which Natasha had consumed almost one not being used to consume wine (her upbringing) , she was almost drunk, and if not so, she was very, very happy, bustling, so they had decided not to go dancing as planned and return to her apartment.

When she tried to stand up getting out of the car she lost her balance and stumbled against him bringing her breasts against his chest. When he grabbed her to prevent her fall, his hands inadvertently went to her buttocks to support her and he felt the firm, almost naked, flesh. She, unable to help herself, giggled and kissed his neck as he held her; his face turned red as he attempted to apologize for touching her, however, she whispered in his ear that his touch was very pleasurable. After all, hadn't he saved her from a nasty fall?

Natasha kissed him on the lips, a luscious thank you, before releasing him. His hands shook like a young teenager as his hormones raged from her stimulation. Then, she took everything into her own hands unable to restrain herself any longer; the wait for his first advance was over. She at once realized his fear of their age difference would not allow him to take advantage of her. Natasha with the recklessness that gives youth and the wine approached him again, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him tightly to her body she kissed him; it was a prolonged kiss, full of tongue, sexual promise and inflamed passionate desire. The sensation of the kiss lingered on his lips long after she broke contact to hold his head in her hand as he tried to further separate them. She whispered in his ear,

"Oh Dale, my body longs for you. And I belong to you; I don't care about our age’s difference. I know there is love between us and that makes the age barrier that worries you so much meaningless. Your body reacts to mine as mine reacts to you. This has nothing to do with age and everything to do with each of us instinctively recognizing a soul mate by some age-old human response. I have tried to understand it and have no answers other than the one my body tells me. It is the age-old craving of a woman for her man."

“Baby” he replied, “I can't believe you are serious. I 'm almost old enough to be your grandfather, and I could certainly be your father, I’ll be an old man before you are middle-aged, and probably die before you are fifty. I will not put you through the pain of loss. You're still too young to know your own mind”

“But you are neither my father nor grandfather. Then you deny you love me?” she asked. “Do you deny you crave my touch? Are you saying if I were to leave, you wouldn't experience any pain? The pain you want to keep from me?”

“No, please don’t say that, I can't deny my love for you. However, I can save you from your own impetuosity, protect you from yourself. What would your parents think if you marry and set up house with me? I'm sure I'm of an age with your parents. What would your friends say? No my love this is impossible.”

“Don't you dare use that argument with me, I’m a woman, young, yes, but not a baby” she replied in tears “This has nothing to do with anyone else. If you reject me now, you'll bring on me the pain of rejection. If you leave tonight, it will be forever, and it will take me years to recover, if I ever do.”

Her body moved against him with shameless ardor attempting to coerce where verbal argument seemed to fail. Suddenly, he noticed his hands of their own volition had returned to the globes of her bottom now holding her tight against him. His erection was obvious to them both as she ground against it inducing him to further act on it. Dale could not help himself as the scent of a fully aroused woman wafted in the air. He began to sink into the abyss of her lust no longer able to contain his own needs; their lips once again sent messages of their needs.

His resistance vanished. First he helped her get to her apartment without tripping or falling, then he took the keys from her trembling hands opened the door and once inside closed and put the lock. She pushed him against the door and started kissing him. Their tongues entwined as she reached for him and unfastening his pants, she took his sex into her warm soft hand and gently guided it to her streaming pussy. She attempted to climb him like a monkey, her pussy searching for relief by the insertion of his potent flesh.

He stopped her took her hand and guided her to her bedroom and stripped them both before again taking her succulent ass into his hands squeezing her to him. This time, he initiated the kiss that consumed them in devouring sexuality. She writhed against him; he fondled her breasts feeling their fleshy weight, their roundness. Her nipples sprung into his hands, he rolled the sexy buds between thumb and forefinger eliciting groans of passion as her pussy raged with lust and her eyes wept.

The wafting and savory scent demanded he tasted her; his fevered brain asked him to ravish her with his tongue. He was a man utterly possessed by a thousand demons of lust when he laid her on the bed. Docile, she awaited his approach. She held her legs wide open with an arm wrapped around each thigh, presenting her virgin cunt for his tonguing.

Her juices flowed like a river as his mouth descended onto the sweet savory succulence that would only partially sate his overwhelming thirst. Dale, not forgetting even for a second she was a virgin and this was her first time, sucked her nectar from its source creating further moans; his tongue danced on from her cunt lips to her clit, up and down, not inserting his tongue into the vagina.

Her juices continued to flow freely over his probing tongue bringing an intense sensuality to this act of love. Natasha felt in her womb and brain her impending orgasm; but each time she desperately reached for it, he would back off a little. Although she was on the precipice, he would not allow her the release she craved so intently. He seemed to know exactly when she was going to cumm and stopped just in the nick of time. Finally, in the throes of passion she sent her fingers to work under his ravishing tongue to finish herself what he didn’t want to do, but he would not allow it and held her hand away from her sex.

Occasionally, he would remove his mouth form her crotch to watch her cunt heave up from the bed looking for his mouth and tongue while he enjoyed her fragrance. Eventually, his mouth moved up from her furnace and the molten lava, traveled up her body firing further the flames of passion with the tip of his tongue. He kissed her repeatedly finding and inflaming each new erogenous zone, her navel, her breasts, and her nipples. His tongue penetrated her mouth and at the same time his cock penetrated her cunt.

Something stopped him; the fog of desire that filled his brain began to dissolve. He had stumbled on her hymen, he was taking her virginity. The realization made him stop the penetration;

“Please Dale, don’t stop, please my love keep going” begged a delirious Natasha.

“I don’t want to hurt you”

“It doesn’t matter, keep pushing, it’s only natural, I know what I’m talking about”

Dale pushed again breaking the membrane and filling her with such carnal sensations she climaxed immediately around his shaft. It was only the beginning. With each thrust of his cock, her body convulsed in orgasm after orgasm leaving her thrashing, biting, scratching and begging for more. He fucked her to sexual submission; then he felt his semen start spurting in her womb and a few minutes later they lay exhausted and fulfilled on the bed, their mixed juices flowing from her body.

His cock, still hard from their first fuck, was prepared for their second round. This time he would be more careful than the first time, so his body would enrapture her. He intended to enslave her forever with sexuality as she has enslaved him with her beauty. If they were going to be lovers, he insisted her as his dick entered her for a second time, then it must be a long lifetime commitment. His thrusting soon brought her close to orgasm; and as with his tongue, he would stop his big cock each time she grew close repeating this process time and time again.

Natasha’s inexperience made her feel that her body was like a mass of jelly, and that her head was continuously exploding into a fireworks symphony of endless orgasms; Dale brought her closer and closer to the edge of the abyss, and each time she reached a higher plane of pleasure, she received more stimulation. She tensed with each approach to her orgasm until every muscle in her body strained for release; her body was a taut bowstring, awaiting to be plucked.

Forcefully, he thrust his dick inside her sheath again and again, his cock struck her womb deepest as he spewed his seed and flooded her with cum. Her response was an orgasm of such immense proportions that the spasms opened her cervix to the head of his prick so his emissions went to the far end. Natasha instinctively knew in that moment of erotic delight, he had impregnated her. This man, who only a few hours ago had argued his age was a barrier to their love, would now be the father of her child. As she moaned away the bliss, she told him she was sure she was pregnant with his child, but expected to be fucked many more times to be positive. He was surprised at how pleased he felt their union would result in a baby. His baby.

His age seemed to melt away as she mounted him to take her erotic revenge. Her cunt wanted to consume the new erection that shocked him with it almost immediate resurgence. Natasha crouched over his erection bringing her pussy slowly down, engulfing and devouring his penis with her cavity, still full of their cream from their last fuck. She leaned over so her dangling tits would drag her nipples across his chest and graze his nipples further arousing him. When he attempted to thrust upwards, she rode with him not allowing the friction he was trying to produce. Only when she felt his cock start softening slightly did she grind forcibly her cunt muscles against him to maintain his erection. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her towards his mouth and the nibbling and suckling of her nipples sent wonderful messages of passion to her twat. Her juices flowed down his shaft wetting his balls and ass with a continuous drip of cream. Impassioned, he finally let go of her breasts and reattached his mouth to hers as both his hands gripped her bum.

She fiercely prolonged the kiss, driving her tongue deep into his mouth, and sucking his tongue into hers. Natasha began a series of muscle exercises with her vagina, which sent ripples along the walls of her excited sex eliciting even stronger desires in him. His balls ached with his need for release once more. Using muscles she had exercised for this day, she began a series of squeezes that further engorged his already swollen cock; his sexual tension rose to a peak he had never before attained, and when she felt he was ready, maintaining the kiss and with saliva flowing into his mouth, she used his own strategy and thrust up and down forcibly several times. She drove his cock deep inside her as he erupted bathing her cunt in hot cum. She collapsed on his chest and said,

“This fuck guarantees me a baby and will seal our love”.

Nine months later the baby was named Pierce

####

But before Pierce was born there were some hard facts of life they should have taken into account. Everything had been very beautiful, fantastic. Cupid’s arrow t had made them fall in love instantly; the loving dates; contempt, especially by Natasha, for their age difference; the hot sex, the beautiful making of love, in other words all the madness of love. All had been like living in a world of fantasy. But with her pregnancy, came the reality that forced them out of their cocoon and face hundreds of problems, of which it was not the least Natasha’s parents’ reaction.

Natasha's parents, were very religious, with a very ultra conservative vision in every aspect of social life, they were anti-abortion, they were contrary to any premarital sex, and were furious with the conduct of their darling and only daughter. When she called them by phone to announce them, hers and Dales visit, their reaction was coldest than the air coming down from Canada in winter.

When Natasha and Dale arrived at her family ranch the reception they received from her parents was even colder than the phone call had been. When her parents learned that their little girl was pregnant from that old lecher, they went berserk. They did not care that Dr. Dale Bridgeport, of whom they had had never heard of, was a world-renowned medical eminence, he had abused their child and they could not forgive. They did not want his daughter to marry an old man, albeit of the same age of theirs, they did not want an abortion, and did not want a grandchild born in sin.

For them it was an insoluble problem, so they disengaged completely from the issue and asked the parents of their grandchild to go away and not return again.

From that moment on their lives were full, the lacking they would feel years later. After the first moments of anguish following the rejection of her parents, Natasha was happily involved in creating a home in which to raise her son and her husband could be proud of. They married, being accompanied by his colleagues and a few of her former nurse-friends. The first years of their marriage were happy, they had their son, Dale had his career and work at the university and hospital and Natasha had her home, her friends and her social life.

But over the years, as her son began to grow, Natasha needs in bed wasn’t met. Moreover Dale spent increasingly more and more time in the college cloisters and the operating room that at home, his interest in sex waned with the increasing of his age, and when he turned fifty-five years old they had intercourse, not the making of love, once a month or even every forty-five days.

Natasha by contrast, at thirty-three years old and in the prime of her maturity as a woman, felt she needed more sex, she needed to fuck and be fucked, and not having sex, her needs increased exponentially. And so the marriage was on its way to the wreck. Not to divorce, mind you, they would not separate; they would maintain appearances for society and their son's sake. They were no longer lovers, sex was no more. They loved the other as good friends, not as lovers. This had been her first marriage to her first love.

His, was also his first marriage, but, to his second love, being the first the practice and teachings of neurosurgery. He had missed living the mundane early years of his adulthood, and, like many successful men his age, had succumbed to the attraction of a younger, very young, woman and eagerly embraced her desire for a family, one that, at this time in his life, he would enjoy fully. He was a good husband and a better father, but the attraction of a second love often waned and Dr Bridgeport seemed to be following the path of so many others that had led to the estrangement with their wives — work was his primary focus and love.

4)

I am Pierce Bridgeport, I am twenty six years old, and from now on, I’ll relate you the story of mine and my mother’s torn lives and our final relationship.
I have been working as a deep sea welder on several oil platforms in the North Sea for an American company and only went to shore every fourth week, from the beginning my job has kept me away from the mainland for weeks at a time. I could usually expect to be home (a spacious apartment where I live alone, with the occasional feminine visit) one weekend each month or even every six weeks and sometimes I was able to stay, if things were easy at work, for a whole week. I’m used to work way up north in the sea rigs looking for oil on the sea-bed doing everything that needs sub aquatic welding, within and outside, on the big oil and gas drill wells.
My eight hours shift at work let me with long periods of free time and after a couple of weeks I realized I could not be more than eight or ten hours a day loitering without doing something useful with my life, so when I returned from my first weekend on the ground without a dollar in the pocket, I realized that not only should I make better use of my free time at sea, I also realized it made no sense to spend, in a few hours of drinking and womanizing, je, je, the hard-earned money I earned with so much effort and danger, in a month.
So, very early in my work life I changed my way of life. and decided that to be ten or twelve hours a day playing cards, reading magazines or comics, sleeping, eating and looking forward to my new work shift was not good for my future, so I decided to tell the foreman that I would like an increase in my day workload, and I began to save my money spending as little as possible. As I still had much spare time I became interested in the movements of the stock market and how to invest my money in profitable companies with which I could get a good return.

Working in the search and extracting of oil industry, I thought that this was the best field in which to start investing my money; working within the industry I was connected and knew many people, engineers, accountants etc, with whom, from time to time, when they were in the mood, I could get some tips with insurance to invest in stocks or to sell them at the right time. So, my life was hard work, study, savings and little fun. I was twenty two and I promised myself to be rich at twenty five.

Of course in a so rough work environment I was the laughing stock of my fellow workers some of whom thought I was a “sissy”, their words. I didn’t go to town and got roaring drunk or went with the women sailors go; I mostly went down underwater and worked several hours a day and when I was resting in my cabin I was always reading technical stuff incomprehensible to most of them.

I never went to my parent’s home again; I went to the ranch in Idaho to see my maternal grandparents and remember better times a couple times, and when I wanted to see my father I usually took a plane and went to see him at the University where he was a professor, we spent the day together, and we talked about our lives and other stuff; but I asked him for, and my mother was never mentioned, though I saw the pain in his eyes, once I gave him my address and that of the company I work, and my lawyer’s phone in case he, only he, ever needed to contact me.

Beyond that I did not want my mother to be named in my presence, through her memory was my own living hell; I could not rip her from my mind, her memory was an obsession that never left me, and that made me reject other women, I cannot have a normal romantic relationship, no one of them is my mother, so my contact with them was reduced to the minimum and I looked for sex merely for sanitary reasons, in that respect talk about Oedipus complex.

I wish I had had the balls to tell her that I'm in love with her. But I was young and couldn’t. She is the reason I can't be with any other woman. Being with another woman after just existing in Mom's world would be akin to living in an efficiency apartment after having lived in a Hollywood mansion. I know, it’s bad the analogy, but it comes close.

Beyond the fact that she is extremely beautiful, what I feel for her is much deeper, goes beyond the sexual desire, goes beyond wanting to possess her, to own her body, what I want and need is to possess her soul, I think that she still loves me as a mother to her son, but my dream is that I need her to love me like a woman loves her man.

I'm in love with her and I need for her to love me too, because mother is the reason there is no longer a woman who satisfies me. Till now, when fucking I had settled for my dick to enter the woman and fuck her like animals do, instinctively but without love. Today that is no longer enough.

Young girls my age doesn’t interest me as I found them superficial and immature, so when I need company I contact an escort service and ask for mature women of an age around that of my mother.

I wasn’t a virgin by any means, if by virgin you mean the person who has never had intercourse, but my proficiency in the fine arts of sex was to say the least lacked of everything that makes sex joyful and enjoyable to your partner. I had bedded a few girls before going offshore and a couple or tree prostitutes when I was far away from home.
And my only proficiency in sex was my endurance; I could fuck for hours untiringly.

####

When I was twenty three years old my life was a mess. The only interest I had in life was my work, saving money, the control of my investments, and long hours studying the papers in stock trading to invest trying to make more money for an early retire, as working for long periods of time under water had begun to affect my health, I had few mundane diversions and no permanent female company. I loved and respected my father very much, but I loved my mother with carnal desires and sex repressed passion.
I was coming to the end for the first time of a three year contract and one day when I was working on a particularly troublesome and dangerous task occurred something it was supposed could never happen. I was at a depth of about one hundred feet welding a part of the structure of the platform when the accident occurred. I never knew what happened, if it was a mistake in calculus I made, if the oxidric torch flame cut a supporting structure steel cable, or if it was some other reason I can’t discern, but the fact was the cable was released and with its tension, whiplashed and swatted my head producing a deep cut wound from the top of the head, across my face to my chin, breaking the oxygen mask and the breathing equipment.
I lost consciousness and the profuse amount of blood coming out of the wound that began to redden the water around me and seeping upward shocked my coworkers who immediately called for help to get me out of the water and to take me to the nearest hospital when they saw the wound could not be definitively healed with first aid.

I hardly remember what happened the following days; I seem to remember as if I was in the middle of a thick fog, the pounding of the blades of a helicopter, screaming, and a flight of several hours with someone trying to keep my head still. Arriving to a large building, a couch, lit corridors, and lights on the ceiling, then silence, nothing. I woke up with excruciating pain in my head and in blind darkness, when I tried to touch my face to find what had happened, a steady hand squeezed my hands and my father's voice was telling me everything was fine, to be careful and I was going to be fine. As in a dream I seemed to hear for the first time in years the voice of my mother, sobbing, weeping and calling me:

“Oh my baby, oh my love, oh my dear son…”

Her voice was trailing into the distance as I lost my consciousness again. As I awoke the darkness surrounded me, this time, a gentle feminine voice, that of a nurse, told me that I was not blind, I had my head completely bandaged because the surgery to restore my face and close my wounds had taken several hours and over a hundred and fifty stitches. So, after several days they took away the bandages and slowly in a darkened room they uncovered my eyes.

When I saw my new face in the mirror I wanted to drop death; physically I am a perfect blend of genes from both my parents. I'm quite tall at six inches four and 220 pounds in weight, with an agile and muscular body almost weightless in the water; I have dark blond hair, regular features with dark almond eyes set at both sides of a straight greek-type nose, my skin has a dark golden hue like that of the surfers on California beaches, a direct product of the sun, salt water and time.

Now my face is swollen and deformed, crossed by a terrible wound that goes from the front of my scalp, down my forehead to my face, crossing my right cheek to the chin. I look like a monster and suddenly I could not hold the tears and started to mourn with grief for the loss of my old face looks. Doctors and nurses assured me in a few days I would feel better and my face would be slowly coming back to normal, and as a bad memory of my accident I would have to live with the long scar crossing my face, but that should not stop me from returning to a normal life. It is easier said than done. In the interim my father managed to transfer me to Boston and got me a bed in the hospital where he worked, so he could take care of my wound personally.

He seemed to have aged twenty years in a few weeks and he asked me if I eventually would like to see my mother.

“You know dad that I love you very much, I love you, and respect you and I’m grateful for all you has made for me, but don’t ask me that, maybe some day, but not now and less in the state I am, all deformed, I could not stand her compassion and the look of disgust in her eyes” .

“But you are wrong, son, your mother loves you very much. Wouldn’t you do it for me?

“Not now pa, sometime later” I answered him tiredly.

Convalescing in the hospital bed, I couldn’t fail to recall again and again my past and my and my mother's sex life or the lack of it, and her seething sexuality.And still, there was now no question in my mind that my mother, whatever she had said at the moment, had been flirting and teasing with me since I entered puberty and started developing. At first, I thought it was just her way to connect with me, for us to be like pals on our own, then, that I was older. But she'd gone beyond that, directing my attention to her womanly charms, emphasizing her body, and encouraging me to react in a sexual way. The pain killers made me drowsy most of the time and I dreamed and dreamed semi conscientiously. I always dream with her. Only with her, with my mother.

####

Mom was laughing and I heard commotion in the living room. I finished the dishes in relative disgust and when I came out I saw Mom sitting on Dad's lap; dad was trying to read some medical magazine, she with her long and slim hand grabbing him as she kissed and fondled him.

"Don't forget the laundry in my room," Mom called after me, Dad was trying to dislodge her, and her face was buried in his neck. Her laughing practically haunted me in my way up the stairs to their room.

“Please Natasha, be quiet, it is no way to act this way with our son in the house” I heard my father say.

“Then show me more attention when you are home” was her response.

I was mad at her, because I thought I knew what she was doing, she was flirting with me going heavy like that on dad, trying to interest him in front of me , the age difference between them showing now in all its splendour.

As I was not used to disobeying my parents, I did as I was told. But I didn't like her flirting with me one second and with Dad the next. Because she did flirt with me, didn’t she? It just didn't seem right. Oddly, the fact that she was flirting with me at all did not enter my mind as being wrong for some reason.

I gathered the laundry and when I passed the living room, Mom was again straddling his lap not permitting him to have his way. I ignored them. I heard them whispering and then Mom was laughing again as I made my way down to the basement. It made me angry that just seeing her long legs on him made me hard.

A few days later she was gazing at the pool ten feet away in the shade of the trees as I was again rubbing oil into her flesh, I fantasized watching her jack off my cock big and hard, I had my balls full. I saw her lick her lips and I saw, in my mind, the hot spurts of my cock cream spew from my piss hole...right, yes right into her mouth. Suddenly she moaned, the cheeks of her ass bunching as if a small, but nice orgasm had exploded in her cunt. I let my hands pause on her back as she came.

"Something wrong, Mom?" I had asked.

"Mmmm, no darling," she had breathed. "I'm fine," she then whispered.

With my hands at my mother's lower back, I had seen the sudden clutching of her ass, and I stared at it, I was fascinated. The tiny bikini bottoms had drawn up into the split of her cheeks, exposing her creamy ass cheeks. I had watched them ripple and contract.
Leaning over, as I was very curious I had glanced quickly at my mother’s crotch. I saw a few honey blonde cunt hairs curling from the tight band, and also a trace of moisture there.

I had felt my cock stiffen inside my trunks, and I had sat up straight, my hands now shaking slightly as I continued to rub oil into her flesh. I kept looking at her ass, the backs of her thighs, and realized my breathing was getting louder.

Mum knew, though. She was listening to my labored breathing, and knew the sounds very well. She understood, I, her young son had probably seen her ass cheeks bunch and squeeze, but she didn’t seem embarrassed. On the contrary, she worked her ass some more, knowing I was getting a hard-on, and I wanted to take a peek at her. So she flexed her ass cheeks time and again, spreading her long thighs a little wider. She purred softly, and my imagination was becoming wilder and wilder.

Mom is so amazingly beautiful it makes my heart hurt to look at her. I melt inside when she smiles at me and I hate to see her unhappy.
I wheezed and panted, struggling to control myself.
"Mom, I have to tell you, I want you. I want to make love to you. I want you in every way a man can want a woman. I want to make you my own."
####
That was a persistent dream by night; it was also a day dream. After several months of restorative surgery I left the hospital to go back to work, my face was completely changed, the right side, where I had been hit and wounded, was nearly paralyzed, and the deep wound had left a scar that even the best surgeons had been unable to remove.

I needed to cover the big scar so I started to grow a beard and let my hair long; when I left the hospital I had no hair or beard, I looked like a monster out of the depths of the oceans; but, after a couple months being back on the rig in the middle of the sea, my beard and hair were long enough to go to the barber shop and arrange them to make me look like a human been again.

With the barbershop professionals we decided that my beard and mustache would be permanently half inches long, that would be able to cover the scar and the paralysis of that side of my face, at the same time I decided that my hair would reach down to my neck and use it in a horse-tail form.

One of the consequences of my accident at sea was that the new hair growing in both my head and beard, was not jet black, my new hair color was less intense black and had a wide strip of hair as white as snow where the scar was, and my appearance is totally different than it was.

I didn’t dive as much as before, not for so long a time, now I rather performed tasks of control and supervision of other divers and welders, only when they were highly specialized tasks did I went down to do or control.

Life wasn’t the same, something had broken inside me and I didn’t enjoy submarine work anymore. I did control my financial assets and with some good inversions I was in my way to be, if not rich, at least, financially sound.

5)

This is, I thought to myself as I dialed, one of the strangest phone calls I have ever made in my life. What was even more bizarre was that the first strangest phone call I had ever made was only two months ago. And was related to this one, in fact, without that one this one would not be possible; I thought sardonically that I was breaking personal records right and left.

But how do I go about this thing, I started to wonder; Hang out in single bars? I couldn't do that. I didn't even like bars that much. I mean, my physical appearance is the issue. I’m a twenty four years old guy, I am in good shape. I kept myself pretty fit, and though I had a good muscular body, is my impression my face and head still draw too much attention which makes me very nervous and I feel uncomfortable in the presence of people who I do not know.

Besides, women put as much emphasis on men’s good looks, or so I think. So, the bar scene was out. Then what? –do I approach a mature female, and say, “Hey, I want to jump in bed with you because I want to get experience with a mature woman before I die" I’m sure the slap would win me a word championship, if only it would just stop there and the police didn’t lockup me in a mental institution and threw the key away
And then it hit me. I didn't want to get in trouble, I didn’t want to risk an emotional development and then leave, but I wanted to feel a mature woman's body, feel what it's like to be made love and be educated in the nuisances of sex by a knowledgeable female. The only choice was, at first, distasteful, and then, like the evolution of my emotions about living with a scarred face, totally reasonable: A call girl.
With someone who does this professionally, several aspects of my search are eliminated: no hunting, no rejection, no embarrassment and disrespect of anyone I don’t know, and no long games of persuasion. It was simple, I pay her, and she comes to me.
I was about to find out, and receive the biggest surprise of my life.
In one of my now infrequent landings I went to talk to my lawyer and stockbroker, now a friend, and we talked about my investments and other particular aspects of my life, my health and the proximity of my retirement and what was I going to do with my life from now on.

“Ok Pierce, now, I’m your friend, you know that, I ‘m worried about you. After the accident your life has changed, and except the money part, you are almost rich, your life is in shambles. I think is a good time for you to look for a good girl and get married, or else” my lawyer said to me.

“Is that a legal advice?” said I trying to joke with the theme
“No Pierce, is a friend’s advice, you need a woman in your life, someone who loves you”
“As if that were so easy; Ok, maybe to you it is, you’re a brilliant and rich lawyer, and have lots of nice women at your snapping of fingers, but look at me, I’m deformed and I can’t go asking women to date me”

“First let me tell you something: YOU ARE NOT DEFORMED, you are a little, very little different to the handsome boy you were, you think you are deformed, your face has only changed a bit, in fact you are more interesting, your aspect is manlier now than before”

“Yea, yea, right, and frogs fly”

“Let me think, maybe I have a solution, a transitory one mind you, but none the less it would do for now, until you get back your self-esteem.”,” Call me in a few days ok, I must make some calls and try to connect some important people”

A couple months later I called my lawyer and friend; he had a phone number and two names I should contact. It was time to found out if the tip I had received from my lawyer was true or it was a joke. I was making the second strangest phone call of my life, and it was being answered.
“Good evening, International Trade Company, Miss Forrest speaking, how can I help you?” The lady's voice sounded professional and calm.
I cleared my throat. Just be direct, I told myself. The worst think it can happen is they hang up on you. "Hi, I’m Pierce Bridgeport" I said pleasantly, as if I were about to order a gift basket for someone, "I was uh... given your company name by my lawyer Dr Phillips and I was wondering if I could make use of the services of your company.

“Yes you can, in fact Dr Phillips has contacted us and mentioned your name as a potential customer of our services” she said, not sounding surprised at all.

"I just need a few personal data from you sir, like name, address, credit card number and a sponsor; in this case Dr Phillips recommendation is sufficient, and uh sir you will need a complete medical check-out including blood tests to prevent the possibility of spreading some disease, if there is any; our ladies are protected, the same as our clients are; ours is a very discreet and careful enterprise”

I smiled. They must be fairly popular in some social circles, I thought.
“Okay, that's fine. I’ll fax you the medical tests” And I gave her the data she needed, Phillips had told me they checked very thoroughly every new prospective client.
“Now sir, when would you like the lady keep you company? I mean from two days on”
I presumed that these two days were needed to check that my identity would not create problems to the enterprise.
“What do you need from me; I mean where do we go from here?”
“Well, sir, first of all, is there any type of lady you are looking for? Specific physical things, race, size, hair color...?”
I let out a little nervous laugh. "Well, yes I don't know if you can get what I’m specially looking for, I mean I'm assuming they are all pretty young and pretty attractive-"
"Yes, they all are that," she joined me in the little laugh, and I was much more comfortable now.”What are you looking for specifically?
“Well, I just want someone who has umm... experience. That won't feel uncomfortable with me, you know, she must be around forty years old, and blond, very blond with deep blue eyes... "
“Don't worry. I think I've got just the lady of your dreams. Her name is Rachel. She's forty-four, and very open-minded, and I'm pretty sure she's what you are looking for."
"Hum. Well fine, now umm... how much is all this going to cost me?"
“There's a flat fee of $1.000 for her to come out, and that's for an hour and a half with her. That's just for being with her. You may go dancing, to dine, to walk, anything other than companionship you have to negotiate with her. Your activities and the time they take you'll discuss with Rachel, and if she requires more, then you work it out with her."
I was silent several seconds, and then the voice brought me out of my reverie:
“Are y