15 comments/ 206270 views/ 81 favorites Jason's Mom By: sot058300 This story is a fantasy based loosely on a one-night encounter with a friend's landlord. The night occurred when I was a teenager, and the woman was about thirty. There is a lot of teasing and story build-up so if you are looking for sex on page one you will be disappointed. She stood over me in her white string bikini, all curves, soft and womanly, tanned and mostly toned. I tried to avoid looking at the parts of her covered by the bathing suit but I wasn't doing a very good job. Because she sort of smirked and grinned suggestively, it seemed. "Do you want some?" she asked, lowering a plate of cut strawberries close to my face. I couldn't see her eyes, hidden behind dark sun shades, but the toying curl of her full lips and the teasing tone suggested, hinted, that she might be talking about something besides strawberries. "No thanks, Mrs. White," I replied, kicking my feet gently in the pool and looking away quickly—quickly, before my eyes bored a hole thru the flimsy material covering her privates. "David, I told you to call me Ashley," she scolded. "It makes me feel so old when you call me Mrs. White." She straightened, raising her head to look off towards the hot tub for her kids, Jason and his sister Rachel. "Okay," I said, not knowing what other response would be appropriate. I was kind of inexperienced with grown-up women. Pretty much inexperienced with girls my own age, too. Mrs. White was looking away across the pool so I stole a glance up at her crotch, only inches from my face. The thin triangle of white fabric was stretched tightly over the curve of her pubic mound, outlining her puffy pussy lips, riding up the longitudinal dimple between them. There were no prickly spots behind the fabric and I imagined she must have her pubes shaved pretty close. From the triangle, thin spaghetti straps hung over her curving hips to the slightly larger patch covering her bouncy rump. Glancing farther up, I admired her flat stomach and bulbous breasts, although they were somewhat obscured under her long dark hair. Her thick hair was so pretty, cascading off her dainty tanned shoulders over the strings of her bikini top. Jason's Mom was hot; there were no two ways about it. Surprise! How had I missed that? I guess most of the times we had met she was always dressed in baggy sweats and over-sized t-shirts, cleaning up their apartment, or cooking, or some other adult-type thing. Don't get me wrong, I had always thought she was pretty, especially her hair—but I had no idea just how hot she was until she was standing over me there in that white bikini on the first day of our beach vacation. Craning her neck, she looked off towards the hot tub for Jason and Rachel. She walked several steps away with her plate of strawberries to get a better view and I continued my assessment, scanning her jiggly bottom. The white suit appeared to be a shade or two smaller than whatever she had been sunbathing in last and there was that line of pale flesh at its margins, then the tan of her taut butt cheeks. I ogled her bouncing ass, a little turned on but also somewhat embarrassed with myself. She was as old as my Mom, in her forties or something, I didn't know exactly. I didn't even know how old my Mom was. I just knew that Jason's Mom was hot. All of the other people at the pool were looking at her too—the teenage boys throwing the ball back and forth, the guys lying around on the lounge chairs, even the teenage girl sunbathers. She bounced down the stairs towards the hot tub and I sighed, my shoulders relaxing as she disappeared from view. - "How old is your Mom, Jason?" I asked, trying to appear totally unconcerned and nonchalant. "I don't know, man," he replied. "Forty-four? Something like that." He was relaxing against the edge of the hot tub, leaning back, his arms spread wide over the sides. "Why?" Rachel giggled, and I felt a burning in my cheeks and neck, hotter than the water covering me to my shoulders. Rachel was just seventeen, a rising senior, but I was only a year older and still not totally sure of my popularity and coolness. Just a big gangly teen-ager, growing into manhood. "Shut up, Rachel. What's so funny?" I splashed her but she continued smiling smugly. "Why do you want to know how old our Mom is, David?" "Uhhh ..." There was no good reason. "I just wanted to see if she was as old as my Mom." Rachel gave me the yeah, sure look. "Yeah, sure." "No, really." She tilted her head, peering at me intently. Jason raised his head—he was also looking at me funny. My good buddy, who had invited me to go to the beach for a week with his family. "How old is your Mom?" Rachel was checking. "Uhhh ..." I was afraid they were going to ask that. "C'mon, guys. I was just kind of, like, comparing your family to my family." Jason's family was way cooler than my family. My parents were, like, boring and square. And Jason's Mom was super-hot, parading around in that white string bikini that was, like, less than ten square centimeters in total area. It was so thin her nipples were practically poking through it. She was sitting up there by the pool right now, heating up the atmosphere, speeding up global climate change with her supreme hotness. Plus, my parents would never bring us to a cool beach vacation like this one. They liked that stupid old golf resort where everybody was dressed in polo shirts. But not Mrs. White. She wasn't so hoighty-toighty like that—she couldn't afford it, I don't think. It was just her—there was no Mr. White, he had left a long time ago. The condominium we were in for the week was only two bedrooms and one bath—and kind of run down. But that's cool. If Mrs. White ... Ashley ... was going to be parading around in that bikini all week ... well, I could tolerate staying in just about any old dump. - Mrs. White was cleaning up after dinner ... in a flimsy white cotton pajama outfit so thin and loose that every supple movement of her body was amplified to the point of lightning strikes and galloping hurricanes. I was mesmerized. "David, would you like some more tater tots?" "No thank you, Mrs. White." She flicked those smoldering brown eyes with a sizzling flash. "Ashley," she commanded. I stared at my lap. "No thank you, Ashley." "That's much better." Her smile dripped honey as she hustled the left-over taters into a plastic storage container. She was doing a good job, taking care of us, feeding us, cleaning up after us, reminding us to put on sunscreen. She bustled off into the kitchen. Then suddenly the sky fell, the moon spinning by in a flashing swirl. She was back, leaning over the table directly in front of me, wiping it clean with a sponge, her thin spaghetti strap pajama top falling open, displaying an amazing heaven on earth. Her natural breasts were fully exposed, from the freckles deep in her tanned cleavage to the milky white melon tips dangling towards the table. Her beautiful orbs shook slightly, trembling under their own weight as she swabbed the table. I held my breath, praying that the moment would never end. Time stood still. The textured edges of her aureole were just visible, pointed directly downwards. The pinkish irritated skin at the edges of her tan lines. Even the wrinkly lines of stretch marks were apparent, beauty marks extending directly down towards those nipples which were just beyond view. Oh. My. God. I could imagine those heavy breasts in my hands, could imagine those nipples in my mouth ... testosterone-driven thoughts that had never before appeared suddenly started racing from my hypothalamus. There was a twinge in my boxers—I wouldn't be able to get up for a while. Way too soon she was finished and rinsing the sponge under the sink in the narrow condominium kitchen. Captivated, I watched her behind shake and jiggle under the short pajama bottoms. The shorts slid loosely across her bottom, coming down only as far as the white line between her tanned buttocks and the tops of her rippling hamstrings. "Can I get you anything else, David?" she smiled, feeling my eyes. I shook my head no, quickly looking towards the television. Jason was sprawled out across the pull-out sleeper sofa watching some mindless situation comedy and Rachel lounged near him in a reclining chair. We were all a little sunburned and tired, especially me, after a long day at the pool and the beach. It was growing dark outside and I only wanted to lie down and close my eyes. Jason and I were sharing the bedroom with twin full beds while Rachel and her Mom slept together in a queen in the other bedroom. A small bathroom separated the two bedrooms—from my spot at the table I could see almost every square inch of the condominium. And almost every inch of Jason's Mom as she fussed around in the kitchen. She must go to the gym a lot or something. She was kind of small, about the same size as Rachel, but there was more meat on her body. In all the right places, where it jiggled and rippled nicely. Her breasts bounced around under a thin line of lace at the neck of her pajama top and I could make out the textured outline of her nipples. They were soft now, not like the little bullets that were poking out of her bathing suit earlier. She cleared a few more things off the table, then she was at it with the sponge again, clucking about the table manners of teenagers. Her breasts wobbled around pendulously and I couldn't avert my eyes. Then I looked up and she was looking directly at me! She smiled coyly and there were crinkles at the corners of her dark brown eyes. She hovered another second before rising. "I think I got it all that time," she said, walking back into the kitchen. My eyes followed her. But this time she peeped quickly over her shoulder, catching me. I hurriedly turned toward the television, reddening, I'm sure. "David." Her soft voice was calm, expectant. I turned back towards her in the kitchen where she stood facing me, hands on hips. She was smiling, with a playful disapproving gaze. "How does it look?" She nodded towards the table. Oh, my God! She was flirting with me, daring me to say she missed a spot. My eyes flicked over the table. "Um, I think you missed a spot?" I surprised myself. Where I did get those balls from? She hesitated for a moment, pretending to pout. But, playing along, she came back, stalking, looking at me hard. I was trembling, my heart fluttering. This time she bent over to wipe the table right next to me, leaning in low and close. So close her long brown hair brushed against my bare thigh. I could smell the clean scent of her shampoo and soap. Her breasts were only a foot from my eyes. She wasn't bending over deeply enough that I could see over the thin strip of lace to heaven—but she was so close to me that I could feel the heat of her body, could hear her breath. For only a moment, until she began to straighten. "How's that now?" She smiled suggestively, winking. Rachel and Jason were oblivious, engrossed in the television. I found my voice, barely. "That is good," I croaked in a just audible gasp. "Ashley," I added. She touched my shoulder lightly, pressing with all her fingers. Then she was gone, leaving the remembrance of her body heat and scent, and a tingling spot on my shoulder. The door to her bedroom shut and I sat alone at the table with my hard-on aching in my boxers. - I stirred in the small bed, my lanky frame almost spilling over the edges. Sunlight was pouring through the blinds—it would be another beautiful day for vacationing. Sweet memories of Mrs. White literally filled my head as soon as my eyes opened—toying with me, playful in her sexy pajamas, intentionally bending down low to show me her breasts, flirting, leaning in close. I reached under the covers, feeling my flat and muscular youthful stomach, my hand sliding lower to my long thin penis, passing over my sparse pubic hair. "Jason?" I whispered. No answer. Jason? Are you awake?" No answer. Lying still, I watched his sheets rise and fall evenly—still sleeping. I stroked my semi-rigid cock to full hardness, trying to be quiet. Usually, I masturbated at least once a day, sometimes twice—I was good at it, able to get myself off as quickly or slowly as the situation demanded. This was going to be a quick one, and I wouldn't be able to enjoy it as much, trying to be quiet, but images of Mrs. White in her sexy pajamas would not stop flashing through my mind. Mrs. White in the pool, her nipples pointing through the thin fabric of the white bikini, the darker area of her aureole clearly visible. Mrs. White bending over in the kitchen, pulling the tater tots out of the oven, her short pajama bottoms pulling up into the crease between her butt cheeks. Mrs. White cupping her breasts in her hands, slowly licking first one nipple, then the other, teasing me with her dark brown suggestive eyes. I stroked hard and fast, my erection forming a gigantic tent under the sheet. Mrs. White licking her lips ... Mrs. White looking at me from down between my legs, one hand wrapped around my cock, rubbing her hot pussy up and down against my thigh. I was close, straining, trying not to groan. "Hey, man! Are you beating off?" Oh, shit! I stopped, turning away from Jason's side of the bed. "No." "Yeah, right. Whatever man, it's cool." It really didn't matter—it wasn't like it was all that embarrassing. But it would have been nice to finish up before he woke up. I lay still, my cock slowly deflating back to normal. I could feel my heart beating down there. - Mrs. White was out of the bathroom, freshly showered, bustling around the condominium in a short white bathrobe, a towel wrapped around her head. She had smiled at me, a hint of our secret shared flirtation on her lips. "Good morning, David." I could barely make eye contact. "Good morning," I mumbled, before practically running into the bathroom, awkwardly bending to conceal the semi-rigid state of my dick. It was about to poke a hole through my boxers. If our vacation week continued like this I would have to find something more concealing to wear than cotton briefs. Now I was in the shower, soaping up my quickly responding cock, eyes closed. Mrs. White was licking my nipples, slowly kissing her way down my torso. It was her hand on my dick, pumping back and forth—she was looking up at me, those seductive soft brown eyes advertising that she was dying to take care of me in unimaginable ways. "David?" Oh, shit! It was her. I quickly turned from the curtain to face the tiled side of the shower, covering my dick in both hands, ceasing the stroking. "David, is it okay if I come in? I need to put on my lotions." "It's okay," I said. Damn! I was never going to get a chance to jerk off in private. My dick throbbed and ached. The door opened, throwing bright sunlight into the small bathroom. "Sorry, I'll only be a minute. I forgot I left my stuff in here." I could hear her messing around at the sink. "No problem." "I promise I won't look," she said in a singsong voice. "Don't worry about it," I replied. "You can't see too much through the shower curtain anyway," she said, giggling, and I turned to look for myself. Well, you couldn't see clearly through it, but you could still see. She was smoothing something into her face with both hands, looking closely into the mirror. Her outline was fuzzy, obscured by the colored shower liner, but I could see her neat form concealed by the robe, could see the towel wrapped in her hair. "Sorry this place is so small that we have to share the bathroom," she apologized. "I wish I could take you guys somewhere nicer, but this is about all I can afford." "It's okay, Mrs. White," I reassured her. "I like this place." "Ashley," she reminded me with a cluck. "Thanks, David. Anyway, I hope you guys are having fun." I kept my body mostly turned towards the tile—but allowed myself the luxury of gently pulling at my still hard cock, slathered in soap. Over the noise of the shower she couldn't hear a thing. "You should plan on covering up in sunscreen if you are back out at the pool or the beach today. It's supposed to be a gorgeous day again." "Okay." I watched her pour some lotion out of a bottle into her hand. Jason and Rachel already were down to the pool—those guys were sun addicts. Myself, I was somewhat burned up from the previous day—I would definitely be applying the sunscreen liberally. "You should be especially careful ... you already have a little sun burn." "Okay, Ashley" "Let me know if you want me to put some lotion on your back, okay?" She sounded like she really wanted to help. "Okay, I will." She was rubbing her own lotion onto her neck and upper chest—I could see her fuzzy reflection in the mirror. Her robe was coming open slightly. "I won't be able to face your parents if I bring you home sunburned." Rubbing the lotion farther down onto her chest. Her robe was open—I couldn't see below the reflection of her upper chest because the mirror was high, but it was clear she was rubbing the lotion onto her breasts. She wasn't even looking into the mirror anymore—she was looking down at her chest. I stroked my cock, facing the tiles, peering over my shoulder at her form through the curtain. "It's okay," I mumbled. My Mom could care less if I came home sunburned. All Mom cared about was her social status. "What?" she asked, turning partially towards me, still focused on rubbing in her lotions. "I can't hear you over the water." Her robe was completely open at the top—the milky white of her full breasts clearly distinct against the tanned brown of her stomach and chest, even thru the obscuring shower curtain. She continued applying the lotion to her breasts, lifting them slightly to rub up under the hanging part. "Nothing," I leered thru the shower curtain, my hard-on pulsing strongly in my right hand. I stroked it faster, hoping that she wouldn't be able to detect the motion. But she was oblivious, stroking her own body, massaging the lotion onto her flat stomach. Now she turned completely away from the mirror, leaning her bottom on the sink, focusing down lower on her stomach. "I think we will go out to the movies tonight, if that is okay with you, David?" "Sure." I was flexible. But my dick wasn't. It was rock hard, as inflexible as a flashlight. My right hand flashed faster back and forth over it. She wasn't paying attention, not looking, just like she had promised, focused on herself. Her own hands were rubbing lower onto her abdomen, just above the white untanned area of her pubes. "So what kind of movies do you like?" She was looking down, rubbing into the creases between her labia and inner thighs. My right hand was flying now, the soap flecking off in frothy bubbles. "Uhhh ..." It wasn't computing. My over-charged sexual tension was the entire world for this moment. Past the point of no return. "What?" "Ohh ..." I came, milky shoots of jism spraying out in silky ropes, mixing with the sprinkling shower, some flicking back up onto my hand as I furiously jerked my exploding dick, thrusting my hips, arching my back, my dick a towering spear. A spear on which to impale Mrs. White, to plunge deeply in and out of her smoldering red hot vagina. Thoughts of my ropy jism landing on her flat stomach ... splattering across her nipples as she laid back, legs spread open, toes pointed sharply in her own orgasm. "What did you say?" She looked up from where her hands were busy down in her crotch. "Ohh ... uhh ..." I tried to recover, shuddering as I squeezed the sperm from my throbbing cock. "Are you okay? What are you doing in there?" Maybe realizing she was facing me full-on naked, she straightened, closing her robe, tucking the edges together, cinching the belt. Jason's Mom I had turned from the tile in the spasms of my orgasm and was facing her, my hand still wrapped around my dick. Praying that she couldn't see me through the curtain. "Nothing." "Yeah? Nothing, huh?" She was smiling—I could tell even through the curtain. "Yeah, just washing up." I held both hands over my deflating but still semi-hard cock. "Okay ... if you say so," she said playfully, turning back to the mirror. "I'm not looking ... anymore." - I was no help at all during dinner. Like an idiot, I had spent the entire day in the sun but hadn't put on enough sunscreen. Now I was feverish and miserable, useless for anything. But I tried to help anyway, standing in the narrow kitchen in my thin cotton gym shorts, too dumb to do anything without being told. "Poor baby," said Mrs. White. "Look how red you are." She pressed her fingers into my fried bare chest, leaving four white prints. "You should go lay down on the sofa while we get dinner ready." Waiting for dinner at the dining room table, Jason gave me a you dumbass look. Rachel was sprawled over the couch—she even didn't look up. Mrs. White was in her bathrobe again—we were planning the big night out at the movies and she had showered before starting on dinner. I was hanging around the kitchen hoping to catch discreet glimpses of her hot body as the robe occasionally loosened or slipped open. Already, I had figured out she wasn't wearing anything underneath but a pair of pink cotton panties. "Go sit down," she had commanded playfully a couple of times. But it was way more fun to be close to her. I leaned against the sink, not really trying to stay out of her way. Actually, the kitchen was so narrow it was impossible to stay out of her way. She brushed up close against me a couple of times, catching me with her flashing brown eyes as she came unnecessarily near. I played it cool, hanging around in my gray shorts and roasting sunburn, enjoying our flirting game. "Can I help?" I offered. She smiled, pulling on an oven mitt. "Go sit down, I'm telling you." She opened the oven, directly across from me, standing off to one side a little to avoid the heat. Bending down to peer in, her robe came open and I was treated to yet another unobstructed view of her pendulous dangling breasts in all their glory. "What do you think?" she asked, nodding to the chicken baking on a cookie sheet in the open oven. "Looks great to me," I replied, eyes resting on her milky white bosoms. She paused for a moment, evaluating the chicken. "I think it needs a few more minutes." "Yeah," I agreed, caring little about dinner. She lingered a moment longer, then quickly looked up at me, catching my eyes down her open robe. But I was growing braver and didn't look away this time. Jason was watching the television and his Mom was facing away from him anyway. Rachel wasn't paying the least bit of attention. "Yeah, what?" she asked, smiling, still leaning over the open oven door. "Huh?" Now I looked into her smiling brown eyes, crinkled at the corners. "Yeah, what?" she repeated, still leaning over with her robe open. Through her cleavage I could see straight down over her stomach to her pink panties. "Yeah, it looks great to me," I smiled, meaning every word. Smiling, she closed the oven and rose, straightening her robe, pulling it tightly closed. But that mattered little—she had been closing it every few minutes, it just kept coming back open. So I would hang around a few more minutes until it just loosened up again ... "Listen, big boy. You really should go sit down," she scolded, cocking her head to one side flirtatiously. But I wasn't leaving ... A few minutes later she was in the oven again after the chicken. This time she went after it from the opposite side, so that she was facing away, instead of bending over towards me. The kitchen was so narrow that her behind bumped against my hip. "Out of the way, please!" But I just moved a little closer, so that I was more directly in front of the oven and even more in her way. She rose, pulling on the oven mitt, then bent again to reach for the chicken. This time, her butt came directly into contact with my crotch. I didn't say anything and neither did she. She just paused for a moment, pretending to get a better grip on the cookie sheet. And then pushed back against me, grinding her butt up against my crotch, aiming perfecting so that my flaccid dick was wedged right up between her butt cheeks, nuzzled at the entrance to her sweet juicy heaven. She rubbed against me for a second, then straightened, turning towards me with a cookie sheet full of delicious smelling chicken. "Oops," she said, smiling broadly. "It's kind of warm in here, isn't it?" - There was no way I was up for a movie night out. During dinner, my fever spiked even higher—I retired to the couch to rest and recover from my sunburn. "You're an idiot," Jason admonished. "Whatever, dickweed." I didn't care to argue, lying under a sheet in my shorts, red and burning up. "Okay, guys. No fighting," Mrs. White intervened. "Mom, I still want to go out—I don't care if Dave is too stupid to wear sunscreen." Rachel said. Sometimes she was a compassionless snake. But it was my own fault—I should have kept re-applying the block. "You guys can still go out," I offered. "I'll be okay. I can chill here by myself and watch TV." Rachel and Jason looked to their Mom for her answer. "Why don't you guys just go out and I will stay back to take care of David?" Mrs. White offered. There was a good idea! There was some mild arguing but it was shortly agreed—after she gave them the car keys and some cash. A few minutes later the door clicked shut and I was alone with Ashley. At. Last. "Do you need me to get you anything?" She was finishing the last bits of clean-up in the kitchen. "No, I'm okay." "Alright. Give me a couple of minute to get my jammies on and then we'll find something to watch." She picked up the television remote control and fiddled for a moment, but it didn't seem to be working. So she switched on the tube by hand. The television was an older unit, perched on an entertainment center several feet off the floor. At about the same level as my head, as I lay lengthwise on the sofa reclining against a pillow. She pressed the button to flip through the channels for a moment, before settling on a sit-com. "Is this okay for now?" she asked, and I nodded silently in agreement. "I'll be right back. And I'll try to find a movie for us to watch," she said in a perky motherly voice, probably feeling guilty that I had gotten so sunburned in her care. "Okay." Off she hustled into her bedroom, closing the door loosely behind her. But it was swollen with humidity and the age of the place and slowly it swung back open. Lying on the sofa I had a clear view into her bedroom. She stood, back to me, rummaging through the upper drawer of a dresser on the far wall, still in her bathrobe. Then finding what she was looking for, she quickly slipped the robe down off her shoulders. Her hourglass figure was revealed from the rear—her tiny waist, the swelling curves of her hips, the white of her bare bottom, the few extra pounds jiggling. Swiftly she slipped the white pajama halter down over her head and the white tan line from her bikini top disappeared from my view. Her fleshy bottom rippled as she lifted first one leg and then the other to pull on the short bottoms. In all too brief a moment her naked beauty was covered again. She turned and I looked back toward the television, pretending to be engaged. She bustled back into the living room, breasts bouncing under the thin top, the texture of her soft nipples showing. She was carrying a jar of aloe. "I want you to put something on your burn, okay?" "Okay." I wasn't arguing. "Can I get you anything before I sit down?" "No thanks, Ashley—I'm good," I replied, moving to sit up, making space for her on the sofa. "You're fine—you don't have to move, sweetie," she said, motioning that she would take the chair. Damn! She handed me the aloe, plopping into the recliner. "We'll watch this for a bit, then I'll find something else, okay?" I nodded, stretching out, not really having an opinion, curled up under the sheet, the aloe jar forgotten in the pillows. Feeling dozy, sunburned and tired ... the fading light of the sun comforting me through the floor-to-ceiling blinds over the glass door leading out onto our narrow balcony. She sighed, sinking into the recliner, exhaling the relief of a well-earned rest after a busy dinnertime catering to three mostly unhelpful teenagers. "Whew, I'm kind of tired anyway. I don't know if I could've stayed awake thru a whole movie." A minute later ... "You really should put some of that lotion on—okay, sweetie?" "Okay, Ashley." I was out of it, eyelids drooping. The canned laughter from the sit-com droned on, the ceiling fan hummed fast. It was hard work, vacationing with the Whites—how could Jason and Rachel still have the energy to go out to the movies? All that sun and swimming ... From far away, I heard her voice ... "David?" Then felt her hand on my foot, shaking me a little under the sheet. "David, are you sleeping? David, honey?" "No, I'm still awake." I rallied, shaking myself awake, pulling back from far away. It was just me and her—our time alone ... I couldn't let it go to waste, falling asleep like that. "I'm awake." She laughed, sweet bells ringing. I raised my head to look towards her, curled comfortably on the recliner. "What?" "You're falling asleep!" "Yeah, I guess I'm kind of tired." "Do you still want me to find a movie?" "Yeah, that's great." I struggled from under the sheet, rising to a sitting position, determined not to squander my time alone with Ashley. Fumbling with the aloe, I started smearing it half-heartedly on my chest and arms while Ashley fiddled with the remote, quietly cursing it. The sit-com droned on. The aloe was cold on my burn under the fan and I shivered. "I can put some on your back." Her voice was less mothering, a little hesitant, more timid than earlier. "Okay." She rose, taking the aloe jar. Stupid laughter still whined from the television. Apparently, the remote was not working. "Lie down." This time with more authority. I laid face down, curling one arm under a pillow, turning my head so the television was still visible. Friends. Rachel and Ross were on again, off again. Not so important. More important was feeling Mrs. White kneel over me, her left foot and knee behind my left knee towards the back of the sofa, some of her weight resting on my legs, the rest balanced on her right foot on the floor. "This might be cold." Kindly, she rubbed the aloe between her hands a little to warm it, but I shivered nonetheless when she touched my shoulders. "Sorry!" Her touch was business-like, smearing the lotion in deeply and well, covering my shoulders, spreading it evenly. Her fingers worked the cream in efficiently, economically, with experience, the way a parent covers a child. Gradually, she worked her way lower, rubbing in brisk circles in the center of my back, making the lotion disappear. I could feel the tension in her legs gather as she worked, trembling slightly. Then, as she began to relax somewhat, I could feel her body sink lower, more of her weight coming onto my legs. Pausing, her hands left me momentarily as she dipped her fingers back into the aloe. Sighing and uncomfortable, she finally allowed herself to relax onto me completely, sitting mostly on my right thigh, her left leg folded and tucked behind mine on the couch, her right foot still on the floor. "Is this okay? Sorry, that was uncomfortable balancing like that." "It's okay." Of course it was okay. Mrs. White was touching my legs with her warm booty, her hands kneading my back. She ran her hands up my sides, still engaged in spreading the lotion evenly. "You are so lean, David." Her voice mixed envy and desire, so said my imagination. Starting at my shoulders again, her touch became a bit more tender, rubbing sensually, no longer at the organized business of treating a sunburn. My penis stirred in my shorts and I tried hard not to rub my groin into the sofa. Now she was slowly working her thumbs into the crease of my spine, her fingers spread towards the sides of my back. And it only felt natural, part of the rubbing, when she started to slowly grind her crotch against my thigh. Her fingertips were kneading the muscles of my shoulders, grasping and releasing, slowly and steadily. And thru her pajama bottoms I could feel her pussy, warm and damp. First it was ever so slightly, lightly, just barely touching. Then her hands were to my sides again and I sensed her leaning closer to me, felt her hot breath on my neck, the pressure of her crotch against my leg increasing. Her hair fell against my back and I felt her lean even closer. Inadvertently, I groaned in pleasure, not sexually, but just enjoying her hands on my sides, her wet cooch brushing against my leg—and she suddenly leapt up. The fan cooled a moist spot on my right thigh where her pussy juices had soaked through her pajama bottoms. "Okay, I think that's good," she said, "it's getting really hot in here." Smiling and maybe embarrassed, she fanned her forehead. I ground my hard-on into the sofa. - "Damn this thing!" She shook the remote, pointing it towards the television and pressing buttons fiercely. She was back in the recliner—and I was trapped on the sofa, unable to slip from under the sheet because of my rampant erection. Damn teenage hormones—sometimes my dick would get hard if the wind blew on it. "We can just watch this," I said, trying to alleviate her frustration. "It's not working," she said, "this place is sort of run-down, isn't it?" She sighed, placing the non-functional remote on the end table. Slipping off the chair, she crawled across the carpet to the television. I stopped paying any attention to the television and watched her supple form cross the floor on all fours, slinking in her thin white pajamas. She pushed at the television buttons, switching the channel, resting on one hand and her knees, feet in the air, toes pointed at the ceiling. The short pajama bottoms left nothing to my imagination—even in the dim light I could see the white untanned lines in the creases between her butt cheeks and upper thighs. Her labia were hanging, little dark buttons on either side of her pajamas bottoms riding up into the dimpled crease of her vagina. She was in captivation to the television, flipping channels, poised, back arched, her bottom pointed right at me. The halter top fell away from her breasts and I had a full view of those too, pendulous orbs hanging towards the floor, swinging slightly as she flicked the channels, backlit by the television. "There is nothing on ..." Baseball, talking heads, news, cartoons—she was reaching the end of the dial. Nature programming, black and white movies, more sports, fast cars ... and suddenly, naked people having sex! "Oh!" She paused on it for a moment. A middle-aged woman, maybe a few years older than Mrs. White's age, was getting it served to her from a somewhat younger guy—the woman was obviously having a good time, lying back on a sofa as the muscular man boned her mercilessly, skin slapping noises. "What the hell!" She flipped to the next channel, talking heads, looking back over her shoulder quickly with a guilty embarrassment. "I can't believe that was just on the TV! I hope you didn't see that?" Laughing, shaking her head in disbelief. "Wait, can you turn that back?" She looked back at me with mock disgust, peering over her shoulder, her back arched, full breasts scraping against the floor, her rounded bottom begging to be fucked. "I can't let you watch that. Are you kidding me?" "C'mon, Ashley. I'm a big boy." Smiling. She intentionally turned the knob the wrong way, flipping to a newscaster. "Look, it's over anyway." "No, you turned it the wrong way." Flipping back the other way, there was the woman, head back, her eyes closed, toes pointed at the ceiling, cock sliding in and out of her juicy pussy ... squelching noises and moans of pleasure filled the room. "Oh my God! How can this even be on the television?" She was incredulous, still poised on her knees. "Leave it on!" "David ..." Her tone indicated disapproval but she left it on anyway, watching from her close vantage as the porn stud slowly worked his swollen horse cock into the woman's vagina. The camera moved—seated next to the sofa in a chair was another man, watching the couple fuck and stroking his erect dick, which was much smaller than the first man's horse cock. The woman was obviously enjoying herself, grunting and groaning, eyes closed. Yet another man's voice came from off-camera. "How do you like watching your wife get fucked like that?" The man playing with his dick looked up towards the off-camera voice, smiling, nodding his approval and the woman opened her eyes, reaching over toward him. The stud kept ramming his dick into her, skin slapping and smacking. Mrs. White made a sound of disgust but she didn't move to change the channel. She was engrossed, eyes wide. "Oh my God!" she repeated, "can you believe these people?" She was mostly exclaiming to herself so I didn't say anything in reply. I was hoping and praying she would just leave it on—my dick was a raging mess, straining to leap out of my shorts. And my prayers were answered. Without taking her eyes from the television, Mrs. White crawled over to the couch and took the end opposite me. Clutching a pillow tightly, she curled up, her knees tucked in close to her chest. "Cool, Ashley. You picked an awesome movie!" She didn't look at me, just glancing briefly towards the wall clock, before back to the television intently. "Don't tell Jason and Rachel," she commanded in a low husky voice. The woman beckoned towards the man playing with his penis and he came over onto the sofa with her, sitting so that his penis was near to her face. And she started sucking his dick while the other man fucked her mercilessly. "That's it. She needs two dicks," came the voice from off-camera. "Oh my God," Mrs. White repeated again. She settled lower into her corner of the couch, stretching out slightly so that her feet came over towards my side. Illuminated only by the television, it was difficult to see her face clearly and I didn't want to stare. But she was definitely engrossed in the ménage à trois and it seemed one of her hands had slipped down between her legs, although her body was somewhat concealed by the pillow. I said nothing, stretching my feet out from the low couch onto the floor, giving Mrs. White plenty of room to make herself comfortable. Grunts and groans of pleasure from the television filled the apartment. Inconspicuously, I tried to arrange the sheet over part of my lower body in an attempt to obscure my rampant boner, which I am sure looked like a tent from Mrs. White's perspective. But she was engrossed in the carnality coming from the television. The woman was paying close attention to her husband's penis, her neck bent so that she could suck him off while the other man continued ramming his huge dick into her pussy. Her saliva ran down over her husband's dick, dripping around his scrotum, and he ran his hands through her hair and over her face lovingly. "Oh, my ..." I heard Mrs. White sigh. She had settled even further into the couch—now her feet were reaching me, touching lightly against my thigh. She was almost completely reclined lengthwise on the couch, a pillow behind her, another clutched tightly against her body. I squeezed against the far end, pressing my lanky body into the arm so to give her as much space as I could. Whatever she needed to be comfortable. Her hand was definitely moving around under the pillow—I could feel her body movements through her feet, now kneading softly against my leg. Jason's Mom The husband's penis popped out of the woman's mouth with a 'smuck' noise and he rubbed it over her cheek as she tried to suck it back in again, willing, mouth open like a baby bird. Skin slapping noises rose from the contact between her thighs and the stud's hips as he continued impaling her on his rod. His strokes were becoming shorter and faster, more rhythmic and compact. Ashley was squirming under her pillow, both hands concealed, but clearly down in her crotch. I stole a sidelong glance at her—her head was turned towards the television, her face silhouetted in the dim light. Her full lips were parted and, as I watched, her eyes closed, her head rolling straight back, her mouth opening further in pleasure. She was masturbating and enjoying it! No way—I could not believe this was happening. Not wanting to tip the balance, I laid absolutely still, stretched out against the arm of the sofa, my engorged penis twitching under my shorts. On the television, the wife took pleasure from her husband and lover, the latter sweating and grunting as he pumped against her in ever faster strokes. Ashley's feet were kneading harder against my thigh and I stole another glance back towards her face. The pillow had shifted somewhat and now I could see her hands, busy between her legs. With one hand she was pulling her pajama shorts to one side—and with the other she rubbed her vagina in slow circles. As I watched, she stopped rubbing. Using her fore and middle finger, she spread her labia widely apart, her clitoris popping out from under its cloaking hood. Quickly she brought the other hand back in, rubbing again against her clitoris, now slightly faster. My view of her vagina was now obscured by her hands but pleasure was apparent on her face. A low moan escaped her lips as her head rolled back, eyes closed. I turned towards her slightly, shifting my body somewhat so that my back was pressed up against the arm of the sofa. She wasn't even watching the television anymore—full-on masturbating, one hand spreading her pussy open, the other rubbing furiously—carrying on as though I wasn't even there, eyes closed tightly, mouth open. Her right hand rose slowly up over her navel, trailing gently upwards, pushing her pajama top up, then un-covering her breasts. She kneaded and pulled at her left nipple, her body tensing up under her own touch. As I watched, she opened her eyes and looked down over her breasts, smiling slightly when she saw me staring back in rapt fascination. Her foot slipped up my thigh, pushing towards my raging erection. And then her toes were pressing against it, sliding up and down over my cock, held tightly under my thin shorts. She closed her eyes again, no acknowledgment that she was touching my cock with her foot. Grunts and groans came from the television; a low moan came from Ashley. I turned towards her yet a little more, tensing my pelvis and pushing out, increasing the pressure of her foot against me. She continued to rub her pussy, eyes closed, right hand pinching and pulling on her left nipple, stretching and pulling it erect. In concert with her masturbation, her foot rubbed up and down lengthwise over my penis, riding up the base of my member in the groove between her big and second toes. I was aching and throbbing, my dick hard now for over an hour. On the television, the woman's lover was getting ready to come—his grunts were short and fast. Suddenly, he pulled out and a stream of milky sperm shot out of his horse cock, landing on the woman's stomach and breasts. She spit her husband's cock out for a moment to smile up at her lover, spreading his come over her breasts. Ashley moaned. "Oh my God!" She was watching the man's twitching cock as he shook out the last drops of his jism onto the woman's puffy red vagina lips. "That is so hot." The woman's husband was anxious to get his dick back into her mouth—he rubbed it over her cheek, all swollen and red, wet with her slobber. Ashley's eyes closed again and she threw her head back, rubbing between her legs furiously. Her toes pressed down hard into my cock and I pressed back, arching my hips towards her. It felt wet and sticky down there, my pre-cum leaking out into my shorts. The husband grunted and Ashley and I watched as he thrust his cock deep into his wife's mouth, holding her head tightly, trying to deliver his semen. She pulled back, opening her lips so that his milky come ran out, running back down his dick, pooling around his balls. Popping his dick all the way out, she spit a big wad of thick white come onto the head, then licked it back up, drop by drop, staring up into her husband's eyes, jacking him slowly. He grunted, thrusting his dick through her hand, one hand in her hair, holding her tightly. She had turned onto her side to service him—her lover was still sliding his dick around on her hip and ass, sometimes pushing it down to her pussy lips, pressing against the opening, smearing come around. Ashley groaned loudly—she was coming too now. She pulled her foot off me, raising her legs, bent at the knee, spread-eagle, her toes pointed. With one hand she rubbed her clitoris furiously—with the other she finger-fucked herself, her arm wrapped around her leg from the back. Her eyes were closed, head turned in towards the couch cushions, biting her lip. Grunting and groaning, her body shook and quivered, and her breasts flopped from side to side. I watched as she worked through it, her movements gradually slowing, her body relaxing, legs coming back down, her feet reaching back out to me. Her eyes came back open and she looked up sheepishly, a rueful smile spreading across her face. "Oh my God, I can't believe I just did that in front of you." I said nothing, just smiling cheekily. "David, you can't say anything about this to Jason and Rachel, okay?" She looked at me seriously, relaxing but still rubbing her pussy with one hand. She pulled her pajama top back down over her breasts with the other. "Okay," I replied. "This is so embarrassing." "It's okay, Ashley," I reassured her. "I'm not going to say anything to them." But to remind her where we just were, I pressed toward her slightly with my pelvis, just enough to bring my rock hard dick back into contact with her foot. She may have got off, but I was aching. My penis flexed involuntarily when it made contact with her foot and she reacted with a smile. "You poor boy—you must be so horny right now." I didn't need to say anything, just pressing my dick into her foot. She sat up, retracting her feet. "Lie down," she whispered, motioning for me to swivel my feet up off the floor onto the couch. Needing no encouragement, I did exactly as she asked, not knowing what she planned, but hoping ... wishing ... She scooted towards me, resting her pussy on my shins. I could feel her raw heat and dampness. Her long brown hair spilled off her shoulders, framing her pretty features—I could just barely make out her eyes in the dark. They were twinkling, glowing, full of fire and energy. Her hands were on my legs, then tugging at my waist band—I lifted my hips and she quickly tugged my shorts off, my erect penis bobbing and flopping up onto my belly. "You are never going to say a word about this," she ordered, her voice low and threatening. I nodded in agreement as her hands quickly found their way to my penis. Cupping my balls in one hand, she stroked with the other, pointing my dick up towards the ceiling. Immediately, I started groaning involuntarily, thrusting my hips upwards towards her, as she settled between my legs. "Look at that big dick! You are dying to get off!" Ashley brought her face close to it—in the dim light from the television I could see her dark eyes examining me closely, looking at my cock with a hunger. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she continued, slowing stroking my cock, fondling my balls. I was about to come—my dick was so sensitive after watching her, all the teasing and tempting. "Oh, look at you—you're going to come aren't you?" She was smiling; she could tell I was there. Her stroking sped up, her hand tightened on me, and then I was coming, my sperm shooting up in thick sprays. "Oh," she said, her smile broadening. My hot come splashed over my belly; dribbled back down over my dick and her hand. She kept stroking, squeezing hard, concentrating on my spurting dick. I was moaning, my cock pulsating and throbbing. Waves of pleasure spread from my cock, reaching out to every inch of my body paralyzed in orgasm. My hips shook and bucked. No way—Mrs. White just beat me off! Gradually, the orgasm receded and still she worked at my cock, stroking slow and steady. "That felt good, huh?" I opened my tightly clenched eyes and she was looking up at me from over my penis, smiling. I smiled back, nodding agreement. Her expression sharpened slightly. "Look, I'm serious. You can never breathe a word of this to anybody. I'm feeling so guilty, right now." Her face was worried, but her hand didn't leave my cock, still tugging and massaging. I squirmed in her grasp, my dick a bundle of sensitive nerves. "I promise—I will never tell anyone." Finally, I found my slightly squeaky voice. She smiled again. "You better not!" I didn't want her to feel bad. "That was awesome, Ashley!" I sure didn't feel the least bit guilty. "You don't think I'm perverted, do you?" she pouted. "No, of course not." I vigorously shook my head negatively. "I'm sorry—I just got carried away. I got so horny watching that woman get fucked like that." She was still pulling gently at my cock, her eyes glazed, so close I could feel her hot breath on its base. My body jerked involuntarily and she suddenly seemed to realize my dick was still in her hand. "Sorry, sorry—let's get you cleaned up, okay? Before Jason and Rachel walk in on us!" She bounced up in her skimpy pajamas and ran into the bathroom, bottom shaking. The water ran for a bit and then she was back with a hot wet washcloth, wiping my now flaccid penis, clucking and cooing in a maternal way. Relaxing, I let her wipe me, closing my eyes, basking in the afterglow of a wonderful tug job from my best friend's Mom. Oh my God! Mrs. White just beat me off! Yes! She even slipped my shorts back on, pulling them up until I lifted my butt so she could pull them over my hips. "Did we get you all covered up with aloe?" Mrs. White was back on her best behavior, looking out for my welfare. "Yes, Mrs. White," I teased. More clucking and fussing as she turned on a light. The television droned on—the porno had ended, but, just in case, Ashley turned the channel back to the sit-coms. And a few minutes later, there was a noise at the door and Jason and Rachel returned, full of youthful energy and excitement about their movie. I was pretty excited about my own evening, but in a more relaxed, more mature sort of way. Definitely more mature ... - Just before we said goodnight and went to bed, Ashley whispered one last caution. "Never a word, okay?" "Yes, Ashley," I whispered back with a smiling wink. "Remember—our little secret ..." She leaned close, pressing her breasts into me, pulling me down close to her. Standing on her tippy toes, she spoke softly, discreetly, huskily into my ear, her breath warm on my neck. "Our little secret—especially if you ever want it to happen again ..."