Born to Lead: Field Observations in an Oedipal Zone, Pt. 2

As I sat down and began to recover from my journey to Bakerton, I admired my host family’s living room. The house was a modern masterpiece, comfortably furnished and impeccably tidy.

Just when I was about to open my notebook to make a few observations, my hostess returned with my rum-and-coke in her hand and a frown on her face. She informed me that her son was running late, apologized for keeping me waiting, and then offered herself to me once more.

I was feeling a little more rested by this point, so this time I accepted. She quickly disrobed, neatly folding her skimpy excuse for a dress and stacking it with her shoes and jewelry, before starting on my clothes.

As her tongue began to caress my shaft I was surprised by her skill, and inquired about any special lessons or mental conditioning. She shook her head, informing me that she learned by doing; she serviced her son on request, of course, and was allowed to blow her husband once a day.

As entertaining as her mouth was, I soon wanted more. She readily offered her pussy, which I took from behind while admiring her curves. I took the opportunity to get to know her a little further, asking some basic questions about my generous host family. Her voice was shaky at first, but she managed to hold up her end of the conversation with only some moaning and gasping.

She introduced herself as Vixi, formerly known as Vanessa. Her son James was responsible for the new name, as well as the tattoos and tastefully pumped-up lips and breasts. Her husband Stewart didn’t have much to say about the arrangement, of course; such matters are exclusively left up to the oldest son here in Bakerton.

After a few minutes of rutting and small talk she reached her peak, her throbbing pussy tightening around me. I couldn’t last long after that; not knowing the local pregnancy customs and not wanting to overstep, I pulled out and finished in her willing mouth. She played around with the load for a while, letting some slide out onto her naked body, until I instructed her to swallow.

As I watched the woman lick herself clean, I heard the front door open and shut. Two men soon joined us in the living room: one was around my age, a skinny guy with glasses and a goatee, while the other was older and heavier-set. Both wore full suits and carried black leather bags, clearly just returning from their place of work.

I introduced myself to both my host James and his father Stewart, who welcomed me to Bakerton and offered me their full hospitality. My host seemed in a rush, though; he explained that he’d just received an invite to a friend’s party, which would be starting in just a few minutes.

Despite my assurances that I could take care of myself for the rest of the evening, James insisted that I come and experience my first real taste of Bakerton culture. It was then that my anthropological instincts kicked in, wiping away my exhaustion and replacing it with eager anticipation.

As I unzipped my bag and began to change into some nicer clothes, James reminded his father that he’d already had a blowjob that day, and would therefore be limited to one use of her pussy or ass. Stewart didn’t seem at all bothered, laughing it off and saying that he’d save it for after dinner. After giving his mother a kiss on the cheek and a slap on the ass, my host led me out to his Lexus and we sped off towards the party.