by Tommy Twist
I gave myself another moment to calm down, and then I decided that it was going to have to be dealt with.
I checked the lock on the door. I'd been walked in on enough times that I knew it was important to check. Then I sat down on the toilet, and I took my cock out. I rubbed myself, hoping to cum as quickly and quietly as possible, and then I'd be able to go back in, calm and back to normal. I didn't need much encouragement. I imagined Jennifer between my knees, jerking me off. The image was almost easy to imagine.
Maybe she'd let me fuck her tits. I was so close, that when Mrs. Stewart called out to me, I thought I'd be fine. But instead I heard her knock, and before I could answer, the door opened. I pulled my pants up, but the image didn't leave much un-said. My boxers tented out through my open fly, and I was getting up from a toilet with the lid down. There wouldn't be any excuses about using it.
I didn't know what to do. So I didn't do much. Or, I suppose I did one thing: I shouted.
"Shit! Mrs. Stewart!"
It was less than the graceful appeal I knew I would need to get out of trouble, to say the least. I bolted. The work was done anyways, I was just there for the conversation and because I liked being there. I just had to hope beyond all hope that she would put it out of her mind and she wouldn't tell my mother what I'd been caught doing. It was hardly likely, though. I didn't expect her to keep my secret, either. Why would she, after all? I'd put my foot in it, and it was all my own fault.
The thing that surprised me, though, was that I got a call again the next morning. Elizabeth Stewart, the caller ID said. I'd given her my number, but usually she talked to my mother, and then my mother would call me.
So it was a surprise, even without the events of the day before. With them, I cringed and felt like shrinking into the corner. I answered the phone, though.
"Hello?" I could hear the timidness in my own voice. I just waited for her to tell me what she wanted. That way, I could at least avoid as much trouble as possible.
"Hi, is this James?"
"Yes, this is James."
"Hello, James. I was wondering if you could stop by later, I'm having trouble with my television."
To say that I was dubious was putting it mildly. I knew she had a TV, but in the entire time I'd spent in the house, maybe a hundred hours, I'd never once seen her sit down on the couch in front of it. It looked more like decoration than anything.
Of course I was also still more than a little worried about how everything was going to play out with my indiscretion the morning before. My highest hope was that we would go our separate ways. My worst fear was that she'd tell someone. The idea of her acting like nothing had happened at all... hadn't crossed my mind.
"I have to shower, but I can come by in forty five minutes."
"That sounds great. Do you want me to put a cup of coffee on?"
"No, thank you. I don't prefer it." I've never preferred it. She has asked every time I have come over, and every time I have refused it.
"I'll see you in a little while then. Thanks for your help."
I jerked off in the shower, in a vain attempt to stop the incident of the previous day from repeating itself. Twice. I could feel the orgasm hit me in the stomach like a boot, nearly losing my balance. Then I got dressed, and I left for Mrs. Stewart's. It was almost becoming like a job, in a sense. I went more days than I didn't, though she didn't pay me per se.
She wasn't waiting for me outside. It was odd, the sort of thing I noticed. I could see her through the window, saw her look outside. I know she saw my car, but she didn't move, either. I walked up to the door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again, and my phone rang. It was a text.
"Come in," it read.
I was more than just suspicious. Visions of why she was being so secretive danced through my mind. Perhaps she couldn't move? She'd hurt herself? Maybe, the darker reaches of my mind speculated, she'd had some sort of criminal break in, and he was holding her hostage. I was going to be a second hostage, perhaps. The slow development of a burglary gone wrong.
Another part of my mind, though, went a totally different way. Maybe she had some sort of surprise. Something that I needed to be inside for. She couldn't come out if she were nude, could she? I laughed at my own perverted thoughts. Of course they were absurd, but it was a nice fantasy. I could feel my cock twitch, and I realized that maybe twice wasn't enough, if my mind were going to go this far.
I took a deep breath to steady myself and my rapidly-escaping thoughts. Then I opened the door. I suppose it had been a bit absurd, all of those thoughts. She had a big bowl of noodles in her lap, half-eaten.
Her hair was down again, like it had been the first day. Except, on her face wasn't the panic she'd worn then. It was just surprise.
"Um," she started. She looked down at the food, and smiled sheepishly. It was the first time that I'd seen her acting more like a woman than a well-oiled machine, in all the time we'd spent together over the last few weeks.
It always seemed like she was the perfect homemaker, rather than a person. In some ways it had been a little weird, but in other ways it was hot, too. I was surprised to find how much I liked this version of her. "Hi. Sorry."
I tried not to laugh. I laughed anyways.
"Hi!" The tension that I'd been worrying about, the stress of how everything was going to go over, it all seemed to melt away. Whether or not she was upset, I didn't know, but here we were. I was where I had grown accustomed to being, I suppose. She was on her couch, sitting there in an undershirt and sweatpants, her hair not even tied back. I smiled at her in spite of myself, a goofy grin.
I realized, then. I might not have known it, but I wasn't just worried about having been rude, I wasn't worried about getting read the riot act by my mother, or even getting the cops called on me for some kind of harrassment. I was worried that I'd upset her, and I didn't like it because she was a woman I cared about.
It felt a little weird, to me. In college, I hadn't given anyone the time of day. I couldn't be bothered. Nobody was all that interesting, nobody that nice or pretty or smart. Yet here I was with this woman who was twice my age, and I was worried that when she wasn't a part of my day, I'd miss her. The relief of realizing that I might be able to stick around, even if just for a little while, was palpable, and it washed over me like a wave.
"What's the problem you were having with the TV, Mrs... Elizabeth?"
"James," she said between bites. It was almost childish, a thing of beauty. I felt my smile widening. I don't know if she thought of it that way, but I felt like this was what intimate was. "I haven't been arguing with you about it, seeing as I had imagined you thought of me as some old lady--"
"No way--"
"Don't cut me off, now. I'm not 'Mrs. Stewart.' My husband's living in California with a girl not much older than you are. We've been divorced since you were in high school."
I blinked. The clues had been there, of course I'd suspected. But it seemed like it was an odd time to tell me that. She could have gone on without telling me and it wouldn't have made a lick of difference.
"But after yesterday--" I cut her off again without thinking.
"I'm sorry about that, I don't know what I was thinking."
"James, did you think I didn't notice the way you were looking at me? I was nineteen once, too. I know exactly what you were thinking." She giggled, had an almost feral grin on her face.
"I don't know what to say."
"Good. That's what every girl hopes for, if she's smart." The look she gave me was childish and full of spiteful glee. Then she set the bowl down.
She got up, then. I could see she wasn't wearing a bra, either. These were pajamas, then, without a doubt. Her full breasts swayed as she walked up to me. I caught myself staring and snapped my eyes back to her face. Replacing the gleeful, teasing jabs was a look of almost-pride.
"You know, James, nobody's given me that look in a long time. When I was younger, I thought it was trouble. Now that I'm a mother, it seems like
the more they dry up, the more I wish I was being looked at like that."
"So that's why--"
"You don't have to explain it, James. I just told you that's why."
Then she pulled my lips to hers. Her lips were soft and full, more than I had imagined in my wildest fantasies. My mind was whirling, a mile a minute. I didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do.
"Mrs. Stewart?"
"James, I'm almost forty. If I'm going to have another child, it's not going to wait long."
"Another child?" I was parroting by that point. Things were moving awfully fast. I had a thousand guesses of where I thought this all might be going, and almost all of them scared me.
"I'm not asking you to be a father, James."
"Can we slow down for a second?"
Elizabeth pressed herself against me. I relished the feeling of her against me, though my head was spinning. I was too young for children, I thought. If that was where this was going, then I was going to have to politely bow out, and that would be that.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you to..." Elizabeth blushed and widened her eyes. "I can't believe I'm saying this."
I couldn't believe it either. But at the same time, I could tell that whatever was happening, she was backing out of it, and I realized that I couldn't let that happen. If I ever wanted to have any sort of relationship with her, it would have to push past this moment.
"It's okay, take your time."
She sat down and took a drink of water.
"I want another child." She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I know you're too young for that kind of responsibility, James, but I don't have a lot of men lining up for it, and I never could bring myself to do the whole sperm donor thing."
"So... ?"
"So I'm going to be fertile in a day or two. I didn't want to spring this on you, but I wasn't sure it was... I wasn't sure you'd be interested. You are interested, aren't you?"
I closed my eyes.
"I don't know, Elizabeth. I don't know what to think. It's... it's awfully sudden, you know. And it's a big leap of faith."
"You wouldn't have to hear from me again if you didn't want to."
I sat down next to her. I had a strong sense of attraction to her, but more than that, I felt an affection for her that ran deeper than I had thought possible.
"I would never want that." I kissed her forehead. "I just don't know if I can provide in any way, I'd just be trouble."
Elizabeth looked at me through her bangs.
"Did you think I needed to be provided for?"
The question, I realized, was a minefield. So I sat there, my eyes wide, my mouth half-open, and I tried to forget what the question was.
"I don't work, James. You should have noticed by now, I'm hanging around all the time. I have more than enough to get by."
"What, are you saying that I should start packing for a trip on your yacht?" Elizabeth snorted.
"Not quite that wealthy. But I--we, if you'd rather--can live comfortably for a while, yes."
I kissed her on the lips. It was soft and gentle, I hoped it gave an impression of caring.
"Now, then. We'll figure out what happens next in a few days. Until then..." She rubbed me through my jeans. It was a rough feeling, and it drove me wild.
Her lips crashed into mine again. I wasn't doubting myself any more. I was afraid that everything would go wrong, that I'd be ruined, but more than that I wanted to risk it, if it was for her. One thing was on my mind, though.
"Wait." I gasped out the word between kisses.
"Is something wrong?" We were both breathing heavily. "Did I make a mistake?"
"No, no, it's... I've never done this before."
Elizabeth looked at me with a twinkle in her eye. She didn't laugh, but I could tell that she wasn't far from it, either.
"I know that, silly." I blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
"I could tell from the kissing."
"Does that mean that I'm not good?" Elizabeth closed her eyes, pulled herself close to me again. Our noses were nearly touching.
"It means you're a little rough around the edges." She planted a kiss on my nose. "Now let's rub them smooth."
She pulled my lips to hers again. I wrapped my arms around her; she pulled my shirt over my head. If I needed an invitation, that was it. I reached up her shirt, feeling the bare skin of her breasts against my skin, soft and hot. I let it fill my hands, while she started to kiss my neck. I moaned out loud, lost track of what I was doing almost completely.
"Touch my nipples." The words were whispered in my ear, soft and intimate. I pinched one, and she yelped. "Softer."
I ran the pad of my thumb across the hardening nub and Elizabeth's breath hitched. I did it again. The only thing that I was sure of was that I wanted to hear more of that. She pulled away from my lips and my neck, still breathing raggedly.
"Wait." I stopped for a moment, unsure what was going to happen next. Then she took off her t-shirt.
Her breasts hung free, an incredible sight for someone who had spent his entire adult life only imagining a woman's bare breasts. They were large, and firm for a woman her age. Her skin was milk-white and the nipples that topped her breasts were a deep bronze.
I had to stop myself from latching onto them immediately, and I could feel my cock straining painfully against my pants. I wanted her like I had never wanted anyone else.
Instead I pressed back into her for another kiss, my arms around her shoulders, pulling her in tight against me.
Her skin was hot on my chest, the feeling of bare skin against skin so much more intimate than the feeling of her shirt had been. The round softness of her breasts seemed to be much more accentuated by the contact, as if they had only gotten bigger.
Her tongue slipped into my mouth, probing my teeth, dueling with my own tongue. I knew that she had experience before me, and I was determined not to let her think of me as a poor lover. I didn't know if she would keep me, but I wouldn't have the memory of being looked down on. She broke off the kiss and leaned in again, whispering into my ear.
"Come with me."
She led me by the hand through the house, into her bedroom. Her bed was large and luxurious-looking, and she sat down on the edge of it, grabbing my belt and pulling me over. I nearly stumbled, and she had that same teasing gleam in her eyes as she undid the buckle.
"You know what comes next, don't you, James?"
I gulped and nodded. I had a few ideas. She pulled the belt loose of the loops and dropped it on the ground. I worried in spite of myself that someone would hear, and make us stop. Then she had my pants around my knees and my cock out, standing at attention. She looked at it and licked her lips.
"Very nice. Are you ready?"
She didn't wait for me to answer, but took me into her mouth. It was hot and wet and I worried for a moment that I was going to explode right then and there. My hands ran through her hair, taking a fist-ful of it unconsciously. She pulled back off, and I whimpered at the loss of it. She ran her tongue along the length of my dick, and I found my fists tightening in her long, luxuriant hair. She moaned softly in mixed pain and pleasure.
"Gentle, baby."
I forced my hands to relax and focused on the sensation of her lips and tongue, kissing and licking up and down the shaft of my cock. I wanted to cum so badly. Then she took me back in her mouth, bobbing her head. I rocked my hips in time to the motion of her mouth, anything to get just a little bit more, a little bit deeper.
"I'm going to cum," I whispered, expecting her to stop. She went deeper, though, moving her tongue as she held my cock in her mouth. The wetness, the warmth, all of it came together and I felt my balls tighten.
"I'm cumming, please--" And then I shuddered and ropey strands of cum poured out of my cock. Elizabeth started to bob her head again, sucking softly on me as I came. The feeling was almost painful, but I couldn't stop myself, pushing against her with everything I had.
&n
bsp; "There we go," Elizabeth said, finally. She licked her lips again. "Sometimes you just have to swallow."
"It didn't taste bad?"
"Aren't you going to return the favor, James?" Then she lifted her hips up off the bed and pushed her pants down her hips. She wasn't wearing any panties, either, I saw. I knelt down at the edge of the bed.
"Of course."
"Do you know what to do?" She said it softly, and I realized that she was worried about my embarrassment.
"I've seen it on the internet before." She scooted her hips foward, so her ass was on the edge of the bed, taking my head by the hair the same way I had done.
"Don't worry, then. I'll let you know if you're doing it wrong." And then she pressed my face into her folds.
Try as I might, though, I couldn't get my tongue moving as fast as I wanted it to. That seemed to be what all the guys in videos online did, but it was so hard to stay coordinated. I needed Elizabeth to enjoy it, needed it more than I could explain.
So I decided to try something else. I pulled her clit in between my lips, sucking softly. I was rewarded by her hand tightening, pulling my hair. I knew that was the right way to go. I pressed the tip of my finger against her, rubbing her inner lips up and down as I sucked on her clit. Then I pushed in.
Probing around inside, I tried to feel where she reacted well. When I pressed in deep, she moved her hips against me, wanting more. But I continued to explore. She moaned out loud when I bent my finger and pressed against the top of her pussy. I wanted more of that. I rubbed harder, added a finger.
"Don't stop," she said, her voice strained. I sucked harder, added a third finger and rubbed against her with all my might as she ground herself into my face. I could feel her tightening on my fingers, so tight I could hardly move, but still I rubbed. And then she let her fingers loose in my hair, laid back. I could hear her breathing slow down, into heavy, deep breaths.
"Come on, get up here." I got up on the bed and she kissed me again. My cock was hard again, and she felt it pressed against her hip as we laid there. "Are you ready?"