by Matt Tims
Or at least keep pretending…
Her phone buzzed.
Bad enough to get tied up?
Her panties were soaked. This was a erotic novel that she was going to write. There wasn’t a story laid out for her that she had to fit herself into this time. Nope, she was the author, and only she possessed the ability to shape and style this tale exactly to her liking.
She didn’t know if “tied up” was meant to be taken literally or if it was just a witty line, but it was doing it for her either way. In her story, his comment was inquiring if she wanted to be dominated, and this kid couldn’t even begin to imagine how right on the money he was. It was everything she’d missed since college.
She tossed her phone to the side, allowing herself to drift off to a world of fantasy.
Dave was the one on her mind. She knew it was a possibility that Mike or even Phil was on the other end of this conversation, but it was her fantasy and she was going to tell the story.
A simple pair of black athletic shorts and a lime green tank top was the outfit of choice for her fantasy man. Dave certainly didn’t fall into the category of guys who needed to put much effort into the way they dressed. Thick traps, ripped arms, and a muscular frame: he could show up in a snowsuit and it would work for her.
But Dave wasn’t in the basement watching TV, he wasn’t outside in the driveway shooting hoops with Jake, and he wasn’t playing a worryingly rough game of tackle football in the backyard with his buddies. No, he was standing just a few feet to her left, and he wasn’t saying a word. He was merely staring—gazing into her eyes as she lay in bed—slowly circling her clit with her index finger.
She closed her eyes and threw her head back into her pillow, wasting little time in further losing herself in a world of fictional lust.
The desire to feel his hand roughly wrap around her forearm and lead her was indescribable. The urge for him to position her to his liking consumed her mind. She was dying to be used. She wanted to be the girl who made his fantasies a reality. She needed to be the woman who did things that his cute classmates wouldn’t even dream of doing. Her only problem was when she opened her eyes; he was still standing there, motionless. This was her story. No one would write it for her. She had to do her part to lead him—at least for now.
She removed her hand from the inside her panties and reached for her phone. There was little doubt what message she would send. While Claire wouldn’t dare say something like this to an eighteen-year-old jock, Ms. V wouldn’t bat an eye at getting dirty. In fact, it was right up her alley.
You wouldn’t know what to do with me…
She knew that wasn’t true. Dave was too confident, too smooth, and too much of a leader to not know what to do with her. It didn’t matter that she’d already celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday when he was born either. Deep down, she knew he was different. He was special. He could teach her a thing or two. And while Claire knew that, she didn’t have any reason to act on any of her urges, but someone else did: Ms. V.
Her previous problems with flirting over the phone vanished. A million provocative lines riffled through her head, her only problem deciding which would drive this kid the craziest. A smile washed across her face as the perfect line came to her. This couldn’t be better!
Maybe those little cheerleaders think you’re hot shit, but I know better.
Send.
Her grin couldn’t possibly be bigger. She’d even impressed herself with that line. Claire was a fairly reserved woman, but Ms. V on the other hand? Ms. V was libidinous. Ms. V would wear those high school boys out. Ms. V was sexually insatiable. Claire was starting to open up to the idea of embracing at least a little part of Ms. V’s attitude herself. Maybe she—
Her buzzing phone brought an abrupt end to her thoughts.
Those cheerleaders usually aren’t walking straight for a few days. What makes you think you’d be any different?
That whole thing about Claire embracing her alter-ego? Yeah, she couldn’t remember what that was about. What she had for dinner last night? She couldn’t recall. Her ex-husband’s first name? Maybe it started with an A? Her mind had been completely wiped cleaned by what she’d just read. It was so unreal!
What did she love most when it came to Dave? His welcoming personality? Those muscles were tough to overlook too. Or what about his handsome face and thick head of brown hair? That was quite the lethal combination, alright. And while she wasn’t some petite little girl, she paled in comparison to the towering physique of the strapping young man. Everything suddenly came together for her.
Dave reminded her of Roy.
Their athletic bodies were similar, they both effortlessly oozed confidence and charisma, and there was no denying that either one of them was a natural born leader. It was all making sense as to why she’d always gravitated toward the star quarterback of her son’s football team. In her mind, Dave possessed all of Roy’s amazing qualities, without any of her college ex-boyfriend’s negative traits.
But Dave being a sweetheart outside the bedroom was far back on her list of fantasies right now. There were far more pressing matters at hand; primarily, his prowess inside it.
She found Mr. Pink, turned him on as she closed her eyes, and once again drifted off to a much happier place where she had her own personal stud waiting.
A strong hand firmly wrapped around her forearm and yanked her to the edge of the bed. No words were spoken, no glances were exchanged, and no verbal consent was needed. It couldn’t have been any more obvious as to what both of them wanted. She was finally getting her opportunity with a young stud who could rock her world, and Dave was about to experience a night with his dream girl—at least that’s how she viewed herself in her fantasy: as this young man’s ultimate woman.
She was a rag doll in the strapping grasp of the hulking athlete. He effortlessly pulled her off the bed without breaking a sweat, his powerful body able to throw her around to his liking. She was getting goosebumps from how much this kid reminded her of Roy. What else did they have in common?
Her face was sent rocketing down into the blankets with one aggressive push. It’d been over twenty years since she found herself bent over a bed with her ass in the air and her face in the sheets, and it was a position she’d be more than up for welcoming back in her world. Two decades had been trimmed off her life by her arms submissively reaching as far forward as they possibly could on the king size mattress. She was back in her college mindset.
She may have been bent over her bed in her fantasy; but back in reality, she was comfortably sprawled along her blankets with her head resting on her fluffy white pillow. Her left hand ran along her neck, down to her breast where it paused to play with her erect nipple. A certain buzzing toy was preventing her right hand from joining in on the action, but you wouldn’t hear any complaints from her. Things couldn’t be much better than this.
A soft moan slipped from her quivering lips as Mr. Pink traced northward along her inner thighs. Her world suddenly turned warm. Her legs, stomach, and even her face: everything was hot. Her eyes remained closed as her hips and lower back reacted to the sensations that her new vibrating friend had introduced to her life. She was on the verge of exploding in the real world, but she was just getting started back in the land of make believe.
The unmistakable sound of a zipper rang out in the seemingly silent bedroom, and she didn’t need to look back to know what was coming. Her face remained buried in the sheets with her butt high in the air. The only thing that had changed was the big smile she couldn’t conceal. Twenty-six years was a long time to wait. An almost unbearable anticipation built inside of her, her body desperate to once again experience that unrivaled feeling of the first time with a new stud. Her hands grabbed two handfuls of blankets and braced for the inevitable.
“Ahhhhhhhh…”
Claire let out a loud moan alone in bed. Things were unfolding a little differently in her dreams though. In fact, when it came to her fantasy, she was anyth
ing but alone.
Shock waves burst down her legs thanks to the sensation of Dave’s fat cockhead rubbing against her moist pussy lips. Where had this kid been her entire life? Most guys didn’t have the patience to continue building tension when they were this close to what they wanted, but that wasn’t the case when it came to her son’s friend. The hunk knew exactly what he was doing.
“Who wants this big cock?”
A stream of saliva poured from her mouth when she attempted to answer. That was a pretty pathetic attempt to partake in the verbal fun with her face still hidden in the sheets, wasn’t it? She resembled a wild animal who couldn’t control its most primal of instincts. She’d been rendered incapable of responding from a combination of his big hand on her hip, and his throbbing manhood pressed against her pussy. The time for teasing was over. She needed to get fucked.
“Slut.”
This was Roy. Her ex-boyfriend had simply gone back in time somehow. Or maybe this was his son? How could Dave know exactly what she wanted? Being called a slut drove her insane; because when it came to the bedroom, that was exactly what she wanted to be. Was he so perfect that he just so happened to possess every single amazing quality of Roy’s? It certainly looked that way.
She could do this. She could be the filthy mom straight out of his wildest fantasy. The only problem was that she wasn’t provided the opportunity to participate, because when her still drooling mouth attempted to get with the program, someone decided to speak up first.
“My slut,” Dave roughly grunted before pushing inside her.
Nothing would ever be the same after this. Men her own age? She was over them. College guys on those confusing dating apps? No thanks. There was only one hunk in her life from now on.
“Oh…” she gasped.
His hips slowly moved forward as more of his cock disappeared inside her.
“My…”
His pelvis finally pressed against her perky butt after what felt like an eternity. Each and every one of those thick inches were making themselves at home. He was completely inside her now.
“God!” she yelled.
Roy had never felt like this. The length between her ex-boyfriend and her new stud was similar, but even Roy couldn’t compare to this girth. God, this kid was thick. The immense feeling of fullness was something she’d never experienced before. The hint of pain from her pussy stretching to accommodate his size was nullified by the incredible amount of pleasure, and she knew this was just the beginning. He’d yet to take a single stroke.
“Who likes that big fuckin’ cock?” he asked.
She knew it was a rhetorical question. Guys like Dave didn’t make those kinds of inquiries. Why would they? How many cheerleaders had come before her? Lord knows a line of eighteen-year-old cuties followed this stud around wherever he went, but that would be a thing of the past if she had anything to say about it. This was her man now.
His cock cautiously moved back in an almost worried manner, leaving just the head of his penis inside. What was going on? Should she ask if something was wrong? A million different questions raced through her mind before the jock to her rear let her know exactly what was unfolding in his head. He was by no means concerned.
Her mind was wiped clean by the brutal thrust which followed. All of her worries, stress, and hesitation ceased to exist while she was being driven into. That amazing feeling of being pummeled that she’d missed so much was back, except it wasn’t coming courtesy of an asshole with an ego problem this time. Nope, the world’s most perfect eighteen-year-old was putting her in her place.
Could she be more wet? That had to be the only possible explanation as to how she was taking this kind of pounding. The one thing that would send her into overdrive was the touch of a particular masculine hand on the back of her neck; and as if he could read her mind, she soon found her face being pressed further into the sheets.
It wasn’t a soft push like Al had occasionally done after convincing him to try to get rough. It was a helplessness that could only come from a strong, aggressive, testosterone-fueled man taking what he wanted. It was an attitude which was impossible to fake.
She missed this. She missed this so, so, so much. The feeling of being under someone’s complete control was captivating; and if that wasn’t enough, his free hand gave her jiggling ass cheek a rough crack as he continued to tee off on her. All those hours in the gym, all those times she’d passed on junk food for a healthy meal, and her choice to keep her hair long despite all of her friends opting for mom-bobs: it was for this exact moment. Everything in her life had unknowingly unfolded the way it had so a dominant male could fully appreciate her body. She didn’t even need to cum. Just hearing his grunts was enough. Knowing how good her pussy must’ve felt was her real reward. It wasn’t like she had to worry about not getting hers though. There was little doubt that this stud would make her orgasm—over, and over, and over again.
Her body erupted with Mr. Pink buzzing on her clit, causing her screeching cries to travel throughout the empty house. “Ahhhhhh, fuck!”
Her first orgasm in the shower couldn’t compare to the most recent one she’d just experienced alone in bed. The intensity was indescribable. Her relief was monumental. Her most powerful orgasm in over two decades was all due to a high school kid’s perverted game, and she couldn’t be happier.
The world appeared so differently after opening her eyes moments later. Dave’s presence lingered, despite no longer sharing the room with her. That excitable energy refused to leave her bed. His touch, scent, and dominant demeanor remained as she gradually descended from the vast heights of orgasmic bliss, and she would do anything for it to stay with her forever.
Dave wasn’t some fictional character from her own personal erotic novel. He was her son’s friend who just so happened to spend hours at her house every week. Maybe it was time to stop acting like Claire, and to begin behaving like Ms. V. And what would Ms. V do in her situation? What would her next move be when she had a young stud right on the edge? It was obvious, wasn’t it?
She picked up her phone and powered it off with a grin. She was going to drive this kid wild.
Chapter 8 – Time To Face The Music
One Week Later. Saturday. 12:07 PM.
Dave had avoided Jake’s house all week. Homework, family parties, sore from practice: he’d used a litany of excuses as to why he couldn’t attend their regular get-togethers. He just couldn’t get over the way Ms. V had left him hanging. Was she disgusted with him? Was she teasing him? Or what if she was furious?
But then again, she didn’t have anyway of knowing that it was him. That was the most well thought-out part of his plan, after all. That way the heat wouldn’t be on him if everything blew up in his face.
He did feel a little bad that Mike and Phil were over at Jake’s house without any knowledge of the situation. Maybe things would get weird or uncomfortable because of his game? Or perhaps she would make a move on one of them instead? The entire ordeal had thrown him off all week. There was only one place he truly felt at home; and fortunately for him, Ms. V didn’t have a negative impact on his performance in last night’s football game.
He sat in his car outside of Jake’s house with Mike and Phil’s vehicles parked in the street. He had no idea how to approach this. Should he act playful and slightly flirty like always? Would his usual light sexual energy now be interpreted as over-aggressiveness? She could be pissed to see him too. Then again, she might be excited. Shit, how was he supposed to know!?
A game plan suddenly came to him. He was going to act like nothing ever happened. The game with the index cards, that ninety dollar vibrator, and the raunchy text conversation in the wee hours of the morning: it was all part of his wild imagination. Yes, this could work! She wouldn’t bring anything up unless he admitted to his part in it, and there was no way in hell he was planning on ever doing that.
He took a deep breath and opened his driver side door. He couldn’t avoid her forever. It was time
to get this over with.
Chapter 9 – Not So Smooth
Claire looked over at the clock above the stove: 12:09 PM. Her eyes moved down to the gray pot where her broccoli and cheese soup still had another six minutes before it was ready. How happy had it made her when she’d discovered just how much Jake’s friends loved her homemade soup? Heck, it was good enough that her son liked it, but it really did it for her when three hunky high school football players lined up in the kitchen every time she made her trademark meal. It was a certain approval that she lacked in her rather mundane life. Well, things weren’t so boring anymore.
She checked the time once again: 12:10 PM. Her eyes had been locked on that clock from the moment Mike and Phil had stepped foot in the house. It was also fairly obvious that neither one of them was the mystery man she’d texted with last week. First off, there was that gut feeling she couldn’t ignore. Call it a mother’s intuition, but she just knew. And what about Dave not showing up at her house one time over the past seven days? That hadn’t happened in forever!
Her biggest problem wasn’t concerning her son’s friends’ schedule, however. It was with her decision to cut off their steamy text conversation early on that fateful night in her bedroom with Mr. Pink. Nothing else had been on her mind for the past week. How many times had she almost texted him? Twenty? And what about her almost firing off that really perverted message to him while he was at school on Thursday morning? That would’ve been beyond inappropriate.
But she’d been embracing her bad side lately. The idea of behaving like some seductive character straight out of a steamy novel looked awfully appealing as the days passed. Hey, who’s to say Dave wouldn’t get a full dose of Ms. V when he stepped through the front door? Boring old Claire might not even make an appearance if she had anything to say about it.