Knee Massage Turned First-Time Deflowering: Seducing My Boss’s Virgin Son
In my living room, the oak table still warm from the massage towels. Heart racing. Tom stands there, hands on my hips, checking my pelvis one last time. His eyes flick to my hard nipples. I glance down. Bulge in his joggers. Thick. Obvious. He’s twenty, virgin vibes screaming. My pussy throbs. Wet from his touches. Knee forgotten. Vengeance on Mylène bubbles up—that porn script she dumped on me. His mom’s tongue on me last week flashes. Payback time.
I drop to my knees. No words. Hands yank his jogger strings. He recoils. ‘Wait—’ Too late. I tug down. His cock springs free. Fat, veiny, half-hard. Smells musky, young. Heart pounds in my ears. His face flushes crimson. Eyes wide, panicked. Exciting. I grip the base. Hot. Pulsing. Mouth waters. First time tasting innocence like this. His. Pure. Mine to break. No backing out. Desire overrides everything.
The Approach: Tension Builds, No Turning Back
I swallow him whole. Gagging slightly on girth. Salty pre-cum hits tongue. He gasps. Hands hover, unsure. I bob fast. Slurping. Messy. His hips twitch involuntarily. Clumsy thrusts. Adorable. Terrifying. My clit aches. Fingers itch to touch myself. But no. Focus on him. Nervous breaths above me. ‘Oh fuck…’ he mutters. First swear. First blowjob. I hollow cheeks. Suck harder. Balls tighten against my chin.
He pulls back. ‘I’m gonna—’ I lock on. No escape. He bucks. Spasms. Hot jets flood my mouth. Bitter. Thick. I pull off last second. Spurts paint chin, tits. Drip down. Sticky triumph. He collapses on couch edge. Joggers at ankles. Cock softening, shiny. Shame in his eyes. But glow too. I rush to bathroom. Wipe cum. Pussy soaked. Dripping thighs. Craving more. Back out. He’s hiding it. Shy boy.
The Instant: Raw Discovery and Overwhelming Release
‘Is it your first?’ Nod. Pride swells. I stripped his innocence. Now test round two. Strip naked. Yank his top off. Straddle backward. Ass on his lap. Back to chest. His hands tentative on tits. Pinch nipples wrong. Guide him. Twist harder. Yes. Cock stirs. Slaps wet folds. I grab. Stroke firm. Hardens fast. Young stamina. Pivot head. He leans for kiss. I dodge. Grind back. ‘Fuck me.’ He aligns. Slides in slow. Tight. Virgin grip.
‘Harder!’ Hips slam up. Deep. Fills me. Adductor stretch burns delicious. Sweat slicks us. Heart hammers. His grunts animal. Clumsy rhythm perfect. Raw. Pounding prostate. Mine? His groans build. ‘Close…’ I clench. Milk him. He erupts. Floods deep. Hot ropes. Pulse after pulse. I shatter too. Waves crash. Gasp for air.
Collapse forward. Sweat-drenched. He stares. Deep eyes burn image: me, thirty-nine, his awakener. Knee? Maybe healed. Heart? Races on. Innocence shattered. Mine reborn in his. Vengeance sweet. Mylène’s son, mine now. Secret thrill lingers.
