Holy shit! Connie's dress had slipped off the hill of her ass. Tommy was not only inches away from her cunt but now he was only a cock's length from her puckered asshole. He could feel juice oozing from his prick as it once again strained against the crotch of his pants.
Had Tommy's eyes not been centered on Connie's cunt and asshole, he might have spied the six-pack of Cokes over the rise of her ass-cheeks.
Connie stood up wiggling her ass slightly as her mini-dress slithered back into place.
"Oh, here are the Cokes, Tommy. Right up here on the top shelf."
Tommy's gaze was still focused on her ass even as the mini-dress curtained off his view of the magnificent sight.
Connie grabbed two bottles and spun around. She tripped and fell against Tommy.
Tommy was startled then his reflexes took over and he reached out to brace her fall. Her chin landed in his face and Tommy's heartbeat raced as he felt her spongy boobs and smelled her erotic perfume.
"Oh, damn it, Tommy. I'm sorry. Must be something slippery on the floor." Connie straightened up, looking down for some mysterious water puddle in the middle of her kitchen floor.
Tommy stared not at the floor but at her fits. He had managed to glimpse them when she raised up and the top of her dress had billowed out to expose the hot meatiness of her big jugs. The cum leaking out of his straining cock-head had now dampened his crotch, and he was embarrassed.
"Why, what's wrong, Tommy?" Connie asked as she set the Cokes down on the kitchen table. She came over to him and put her hand to his forehead. "You look flushed. Have you got a temperature?"
"N-No, Miss Ryan. It's just that it's, er, hot and stuffy in here."
"Now, Tommy, are you telling me the truth?" Connie asked as she swept aside the perspiration from his brow and thrust her tits at his face.
Tommy felt as if he were being smothered. Christ, her tits were only inches away from his face! If he had had the balls to lean towards her, he would have smothered himself with her tits, but Tommy was too young, too inexperienced to know any better. So he sat there squirming as Connie ran her hand through his hair, her tits right in front of his face, while his prick throbbed harder and harder.
'Tommy, I think you've got a temperature. Listen, why don't you lie down in my bed and I'll run and get the thermometer and take your temperature?"
Tommy shook his head. No, he didn't want her to take his temperature; he wanted to get the hell out of Miss Ryan's apartment and into the privacy of his own bedroom so that he could jack off while thinking about her tits, ass and cunt.
"N-No, Miss Ryan, I'm all right. I-I just want to… ~' -
Connie placed her hands beneath his chin and raised his face so that they saw eye to eye. Tommy had never seen prettier brown eyes. "Now, young man, I'm not going to let you go until I'm sure that you don't have a fever. I'm not going to have Lucas Trimble telling all of Weedville that I'm not a Good Samaritan."
Tommy had never seen such luscious lips on a girl. As if he were hypnotized, he nodded his head, staring at the lipstick gleam of Miss Ryan's lips. It was the first time that he had ever wanted to kiss a girl-on the lips.
Connie grabbed Tommy's arm and helped him from the chair. She almost burst out with laughter when she saw Tommy's crotch. Obviously he had a hard-on. Connie could see it. And she couldn't wait to get his prick out in the open.
She led him to the bedroom and fluffed up the pillow under his head. As she walked out of the room to fetch the thermometer, Tommy began shaking, his thighs quivering. He saw Connie's bra and panties on the floor of the bedroom.
Connie reappeared, shaking the thermometer. "Why, Tommy, you're shaking!"
Tommy didn't know what to say. He still had the urge to jump off the bed, out of Miss Ryan's apartment and into the safe confines of his own bedroom. Christ, he just wanted to jack off!
"I-I'm really a-all right, Miss Ryan. I think I better go.
"Not- before I take your temperature, Tommy." Connie stood over the boy. "Open up now, Tommy.
Tommy opened his mouth, then his teeth clattered against the thermometer. Connie sat down next to his shaking body.
"Gosh, Tommy, you're really shaking… and look how much you're sweating," Connie said as she ran her hand over his forehead, then over his ear to his neck.
Tommy nodded.
"Here, let me loosen your shirt. I think you're getting hotter. -
Connie unbuttoned his shirt as Tommy tried to protest with a groan and an adamant shaking of his head.
One, two, tree, four buttons; then Connie pulled his shirttails out of the waist of his pants. She spread open his shirt as if it were the pages of a newspaper. She ran her hands over his chest and smiled at Tommy.
"My, my, my, Tommy. You're burning up. Here, sit up so that I can take your shirt completely off"
Tommy's eyes bulged with fear, the thermometer shaking nervously in his mouth. His body felt like a limp dishrag as Connie helped him to a sitting position, her tits digging into his sweating chest.
Tommy moaned, closing his eyes. He wanted to go home and yet he didn't want to go home. He could feel Connie peeling his shirt off his limp arms, her warm breath wafting on his shoulders. He looked down. The cum had definitely stained his pants and the stain was spreading. He looked up and prayed to Cod that Miss Ryan wouldn't see what he had just seen.
Tommy lay back down, his sweaty flesh being absorbed by the cool bedspread. His eyes were still closed.
Connie hid her laughter behind a smile. She looked down and saw the stain at Tommy's crotch.
"Tommy, now I don't mean to embarrass you, but it looks. . well, it looks like you had an accident."
Tommy didn't want to go home now, and he didn't want to stay. He wanted to die; he wanted the thermometer to dip between his chattering teeth and choke him; he wanted the bed to become some gigantic white shark that would swallow him whole.
Tommy opened his eyes and saw Miss Ryan looking at his crotch. Somehow he wanted her to be referring to some other "accident".
"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Tommy," Connie said. "Life is like this, Tommy. Well, what I mean is, people fart in strange p1aces… you know, like at the grocery store or something, and suit, they get embarrassed. But life is like that. Accidents do happen."
Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head in total agreement.
"Now, let me take your pants off, Tommy, and I'll…"
Tommy's eyes shot open. He shook his head vigorously. He crossed his legs. His body tensed. Why couldn't he just die?
"Now, Tommy, don't be embarrassed."
Tommy was embarrassed. What other thirteen-year-old boy who had stained his pants with cum wouldn't be embarrassed? Tommy wished now that he was sick, the sicker the better.
"Ill just take your pants off, throw them in the wash and dry them off. Won't take more than a half-hour."
Tommy strained, writhed, twisted, the thermometer quivering like a crazy metronome
His hands were on his belt buckle.
More cum oozed from his prick.
God, his zipper was coming down. Her fingers grazed across the tented bulge of his shorts.
His cock lurched and throbbed.
Tommy squirmed. He couldn't let Miss Ryan get a hand hold on his belt!
Connie smiled as she gripped the waistline of his pants. "Now, Tommy, you're a big boy now. Just pretend that I'm your mother. I promise not to look."
Pretend that Connie Ryan, who had exposed her tits, ass and cunt, was his mother? Tommy couldn't believe it. Miss Ryan definitely did not look like a mother, and she didn't act like a mother. A mother wouldn't dare go around the house without her undies. A mother wouldn't sit down in such a straddle-legged fashion, exposing her cunt. A mother wasn't the type of woman who bent over, head in the fridge, showing off her ass to her thirteen-year-old son!
Connie jerked off his pants. She gasped. The kid had at least a year's supply of cum drenching his shorts.
Tommy opened his eyes fearfully. Oh, God! He didn't want to die; he wanted to go straight to hell-now! She was looking right at his crotch, right at his throbbing, bulging, hot and hard cock.