by Matt Tims
“Nah, I’ll pass,” Dave announced after a few moments of debating with himself. It was quite the tempting offer to decline.
“Guess I’m flying solo tonight,” Mike said, giving his buddy a handshake. “You locking up?”
“Yeah, right after I take a leak. Let me know how the party turns out,” Dave said while watching Mike descend the driveway.
“Will do!” Mike shouted back before unlocking his car.
Dave shut the front door, patiently waiting for Mike to pull out of the driveway and vanish down the street. Moments later, he was retrieving a plastic bag from the trunk of his car, before heading inside once again. It took fifteen minutes to set everything up. That was mostly due to his inability to think of a word that rhymed with “battery,” but that was solved with a little help from an online rhyming dictionary. Who’d ever heard of a cattery anyway?
Chapter 6 – A Step Too Far
Back to Current Day. 12:35 AM.
Dave was lying in bed with one of the movie channels playing on the television. A confused and somewhat perplexed look was planted on his face, and that disgust was only growing with every passing second. The plot of this clusterfuck didn’t make any sense. Why were all the characters coated in dirt if this was a flooded, post-apocalyptic world where every square inch of the earth was covered with water? And it wasn’t just a little dirt. Faces, arms, hands, legs, backs: everything was filthy.
Okay, maybe the movie wasn’t that bad. The truth was something else had been on his mind for the past couple of hours, and his jittery legs reflected just how poorly he was handling things. Nervousness wasn’t a feeling the always confident high school jock was familiar with. His eyes repeatedly drifted to the smartphone on his bed. The light coming from the television would occasional reflect off his phone and catch his eye, so by the twelfth time he thought he’d received a text message only for it to have been a false alarm, he found himself becoming more and more fed up at this piece of shit movie.
It’s not the movie. Relax.
Maybe Ms. V hadn’t texted him because she was busy calling the police. Or what if she was upset that one of her son’s friends had inappropriately invaded her personal space? Could that be some kind of criminal charge? Oh shit, what if she called Jake? Or even her ex-husband? Or perhaps she’d already called both of them, and they were on their way over to his house with baseball bats?
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to buy a vibrator for his friend’s mom. Maybe it was a terrible idea. Maybe their chemistry was just some kind of illusion in his head. Maybe he was a piece of shit. Maybe this movie wasn’t that bad. Maybe—
His phone suddenly lit up.
Part of him didn’t want to get his hopes up. It was probably just another reflection coming from the TV, but he could’ve sworn that he also felt his phone buzz. That might’ve been one of those phantom vibrations you feel when you’re expecting a message though. There’s no way Ms. V would ever actually text him, but it wouldn’t hurt anyone to check.
I’ve been a bad girl.
It was a text from an unknown number.
He rushed to unlock his phone with a never before experienced sense of excitement consuming his soul. In all honesty, he could die a happy man at this very moment. He’d created a contact for Ms. V. That meant he had her number in his phone. He had her number!
Sandwiched between Molly from trigonometry and Nate from basketball, was the one woman he’d been obsessed with for as long as he could remember. He took a much needed minute of silence to observe this historic moment. How many guys even had her number? It probably wasn’t that many, but it was time to add his name to that lucky list.
Another unfamiliar sense of panic abruptly hit him after rereading the text message. This entire ordeal had been weeks in the making, and he couldn’t believe his luck when she announced her plans to head over to her parents’ place. Her decision created the perfect opportunity to hide the vibrator that had been stored in the trunk of his car for close to a month. He had the entire house to himself!
How many different scenarios had he planned for? Thousands? Maybe even a million? He’d assumed she would text instead of call, but he hadn’t expected for her to start with something sexual right off the bat. What if she was way more on board with his game than he’d planned for? Shit, what if she’d actually used his gift? And oh my God, what if it’d gotten her off!?
Who’s this?
He hurried to erase his message.
Fortunately, he’d caught himself before sending that rather inappropriate text. Could he stop being a wiseass for a minute? His mind seriously went right to making her think that she’d texted a wrong number? He should know better by this point.
He’d just gone through this with Beth from his gym class a few weeks ago. He couldn’t help but tell her that he often fantasized about “furry role-play” right when their dirty texting really started to pick up. Nine very strange text messages later, Beth was well-schooled on what exactly a “furry” was. Any regret over blowing his shot with his cute brunette classmate was justified by the inner satisfaction of busting her balls. He just couldn’t help himself. Well, that was until three minutes later (apparently that was all the video she needed to watch) when Beth responded with a text simply stating, “I’m on board.”
But Beth Carr was the exception, and countless other still furious high school girls could attest to that. No, he couldn’t mess this up. This was literally his one and only chance. Women in their forties didn’t have time for bullshit—at least that was the impression he’d always been under.
Bad enough to get tied up?
Perfect. He hit send before setting his phone down next to him on his soft blankets.
His leg twitched once again as he eagerly awaited her response. He hadn’t felt this level of excitement since the day he’d snuck into the computer room to receive his first kiss on the lips back in the fourth grade. It was an entire day of waiting, and waiting, and more waiting, and then bam: Jessica Jurek’s amazing mouth. It was a jolt of electricity his adolescent self had yet to experience at the time.
The beginning of this text exchange with Ms. V reminded him of what was possible. If the idea of simply talking dirty with her through text could cause butterflies to flutter around in his stomach, then what would actually being alone with her do to him? He needed to forget about that for the time being. He had to focus. There wouldn’t be a chance at any alone time if he wasn’t on his game right now.
Minutes ticked by and still nothing. Maybe he’d crossed the line? He didn’t think that he had, but she was also of a different generation—a generation which hadn’t been desensitized by internet porn and sexting. This could’ve been too much for her, and while these thoughts continued to race through his anxious mind, a new cast of characters were making an appearance in this disaster of a film. How hard was it to write a screenplay? It couldn’t be that difficult if this junk had gotten funded. And who would have guessed it? These new characters were also completely covered in filth.
His phone lit up.
You wouldn’t know what to do with me…
His cock moved after reading that. She wasn’t just up for this! She was completely on board! He wouldn’t know what to do with her? He wouldn’t know what to do with her!? Something this dirty had originated in the head of the world’s most perfect woman? It was unbelievable!
Another message came through while he was holding his phone in his hand. Things were somehow getting even better.
Maybe those little cheerleaders think you’re hot shit, but I know better.
That was all it took for his dick to stiffen. Who was this woman? He’d never even heard her swear before, and now she was talking shit about the cheerleaders he went to school with. He would kill to hear those words come out of her pretty mouth. Her soft voice had a long history of making him loopy.
Think! You have to come back with something good!
Those cheerleaders usually aren’t walking straight for a
few days. What makes you think you’d be any different?
He sat and stared at his phone. That had come to him quickly—seemingly too quickly. It felt like too much as well. There was some truth in that statement though. While he wasn’t a porn star with some giant dick, he could more than hold his own in the bedroom.
Rumors began to spread around school last year after he started dating Becky Morrison. Sure, Becky wasn’t exactly the quickest, the most well-versed, or the smartest; but she was the head cheerleader. That’s how things were supposed to work, right? It only made sense that the prettiest girl and the star quarterback were a couple.
Plus, Becky was sweet, kind, and different from the other pretty girls at school. She didn’t have the undeserved sense of entitlement that came along with most hot chicks. They actually got along really well, and aided by her parents’ busy work schedules and her lack of siblings, they had the cheerleader’s house all to themselves for several hours after school every day.
Their chemistry in the bedroom was unparalleled. The sex was amazing. His friend’s dad once told him to avoid relationships with really attractive girls because they don’t put in any effort in bed. This seemed like more of a shot at his wife (who was way out of the pudgy dad’s league physically), than it did a useful piece of life advice. That stereotype definitely didn’t apply to Becky. What wasn’t she up for? Facials, getting choked, dressing up: she was game for all of his wildest fantasies.
What type of friends do hot girls have? Other hot girls. And who does the school’s most popular chick gossip with? The other popular chicks, of course. That was evident by the number of girls who’d taken an interest in him after Becky told her girlfriends that he was a stud in bed.
But that wasn’t Dave’s personality. He preferred a girl he cared about over a new fling every week. Becky unfortunately moved away when her father received a job offer in Texas that winter, but he still kept in touch with her on Facebook. It was the least he could do. She’d spread those rumors throughout school, after all. Player or not, what guy didn’t want to be known as a stud amongst his peers?
Fuck it. He was going to send it. Why not trust his gut? It’d gotten him this far.
Those cheerleaders usually aren’t walking straight for a few days. What makes you think you’d be any different?
12:49 AM.
An eternity passed before he looked down at his phone again.
12:53 AM.
He couldn’t take another minute of this movie. He decided to watch sports highlights for the third time instead.
12:57 AM.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with me?” was cool from her, but “Those cheerleaders usually aren’t walking straight for a few days. What makes you think you’d be any different?” from him wasn’t? Was he missing something? He’d just played along.
He reread the message, and the most painful groan of his life echoed throughout his bedroom as a result. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up really, really, really bad.
Where to start? How about with implying that his school’s cheerleaders couldn’t walk properly because he was such an amazing lay. There was that whole thing about treating her like an eighteen-year-old coed, despite her being a single mother in her forties who’d known him since he was an elementary school as well. God, he was so stupid.
1:03 AM.
Yep, he’d blown it. He’d ruined any chance he had with his dream girl, and the only thing he could hear was his inner-voice reminding him of what an idiot he was.
Do you want to know what you are, Dave? You’re an overconfident, dumb, delusional jock. Guess what, shithead? Coming back from twenty-one down at halftime is a whole lot more realistic than banging your friend’s mom. Is this real life or a porn scene? What planet do you live on? You seriously didn’t see things playing out like this?
He held out until ten after one before finally conceding to the obvious. She wasn’t interested in a guy like him. She’d been merely humoring him when she laughed at his jokes over the years. A decade of fantasies came crashing down as reality hit him hard.
It was over.
Chapter 7 – Two Can Play That Game
Claire looked down at her phone. She couldn’t believe she’d actually sent that to this hunk. What had gotten into her?
I’ve been a bad girl.
That’s it. You’re officially caught up in whatever game this kid wants to play with you. And guess what, dumbass? You don’t even know who you’re talking to! Did you forget that you’re a forty-four-year-old mother? Or that your son just so happens to be friends with whoever you’re texting? Or do you think it’s normal to be sexting with eighteen-year-old jocks at your age? You really are a mess.
Claire had never dirty talked in her life. Yes, you read that right. Forty-four years old and she’d never fully explored her naughty side before. That probably had something to do with her lack of sexual experience. It’s a little tough to be a slut when you’ve only been with three men in your life.
Her first boyfriend came into her world at the end of high school. Shawn was a timid guy who seemed somewhat terrified to do anything sexual with her, and that made sense when she really thought about. Their relationship never would’ve come to be without her initiating things. That was probably for the best, however. There was no way that she was ready to explore the world of sex at just eighteen.
Everything changed when she went off to college the following fall, and she could credit that to her crazy hormones. Suddenly, she was horny all the time, and her taste in men shifted right along with her increased sex drive. The days of finding herself attracted to nerdy guys was a thing of the past.
Roy couldn’t have been more different from Shawn. Strong, muscular, and physical: he fit the picture of your stereotypical football jock to a tee, and his personality certainly carried over into the bedroom in a major way. It didn’t take long before she found herself introduced to an entirely new lifestyle.
Calling Roy aggressive would be quite the understatement. Sometimes he felt downright violent. She was submissive by nature, he got off on being dominant, and they were a match made in heaven inside the bedroom. Her first real sexual partner talked her into doing things she never would’ve imagined, and sometimes he didn’t ask for her permission at all. He had a habit of taking what he wanted.
She would be lying if she didn’t admit to enjoying the sex. Maybe that was a bit of a fib. She loved the sex. The way Roy bossed her around, the times he would take what he wanted instead of checking with her first, and the moments when she wondered if he would even care if he broke her in half: it was unbelievable.
Don’t even get her started on the dirty talk either. The filth he would grunt into her ear while she was pinned face down against his mattress was wild, and his lack of wanting to hear anything back only turned her on that much more. He was in charge. As far as he was concerned, she was just there to receive whatever he had to dish out, and she couldn’t get enough of it.
That type of behavior drove her wild in the bedroom, but it wasn’t the most enjoyable to be around outside of it. Unfortunately, Roy’s controlling attitude came along with him everywhere, and she soon found herself in a significantly different type of relationship.
Al was a gentle person. He was a kind, considerate man. Maybe it was easy to say now since everything with him had fallen apart, but she should’ve known better than to think things would’ve worked with Al in the long run. She’d experienced two types of men in her life: aggressive assholes both inside and outside the bedroom, and guys who were timid in all facets of life. She’d never been with a man who possessed a healthy mix of great traits.
But what were her attempts always met with whenever she tried to spice things up back in the days of her marriage with Al? “You need to stop reading those stupid porn books.” God, she could still hear him dismissing her in that unadventurous tone of his. So what if she wanted to get kinky? Was it the end of the world if she wanted him to act a little like Roy in bed?
She longed for the days of being slammed against the wall. Was there any harm in wanting a stud to make her take every inch of his thick cock? Or what about when Roy would hold her down and cum on her face? Jesus, did that turn her on. And the days when her ex-boyfriend would stop by her dorm unannounced at the end of a frustrating day? Or when he would show up legitimately mad about something? Those nights usually ended with her sprawled across the bed, an exhausted yet satisfied mess. Chaotic hair, shaky legs, and thick ropes of cum on her face: she didn’t appreciate how good she had it.
It finally clicked for her what she wanted after snapping out of her depression last year. She desired a sweetheart who treated her like a queen outside the bedroom, but someone who looked at her as a slut once things got hot and heavy. Was that asking too much? Did that man not exist? It sure the hell didn’t seem like it based on her horrific dating experiences.
So, she settled for the world of erotica as a substitute. If she couldn’t receive what she needed from a man in real life, then she would get it from the imagination of some author whose face she would never see. Picturing herself in the place of a mom from a steamy novel had done the job over the past twelve months. Well, it was more of a combination of her books, powerful showerhead, and vibrator that had been responsible for taking care of her needs. Until a few minutes ago, that is.
She looked down at her text messages again.
I’ve been a bad girl.
She’d fully embraced her alter ego. She was no longer Claire Vetter, forty-four-year-old single mother of one. She was now Ms. V; the sexy, flirty, seductive mom straight out of every schoolboy’s fantasy. She was type of mom who would pull her son’s friend into the bathroom while the rest of his buddies were outside, and give him the best blowjob of his young life. She was the kind of older woman who dressed provocatively for no other reason than wanting all eyes on her—especially the young ones.
She yearned to feel wanted, desired, and hunted after. The moms from her erotic novels embraced their situations. They ignored common sense and maturity, instead focusing on their own needs and urges. Those women never had a problem being bad. She was ready to finally get what she wanted.