All characters are 18 years or older.



This is the first story in a trilogy.



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I was nervous. The School for Culinary Arts was closing, leaving me high and dry for a place to live let alone finishing my diploma. The administration had arranged for me to continue my schooling at the New School for Culinary Arts in Dexton at the end of the summer but I had to vacate my room immediately. My best friend from high school had moved to Dexton but was away at college, but somehow, he found out about my predicament convinced his parents to let me stay at their place. Gary’s mom was picking me up today.



I remembered Gary’s mom fairly well. She was quite pretty and I’d had a crush on her ever since I could remember but her features were still vague in my mind. She had longish, chestnut colored hair and a nice figure, not skinny but not plump either, and great legs. Breasts, well, what can I say? Gary’s mom had nice ones that were on the upper side of medium-sized but struggled to compete with her big, brown bedroom eyes or, for that matter, the pouty lips typically adorned with soft pink lipstick that blended well with a lightly freckled face. Her whole presence screamed I am woman. Well, maybe I remembered her better than fairly well. I distinctly remembered feeling awkward in her presence but knew there was nowhere else I’d rather be.



Now, Gary’s dad, he made me uncomfortable. He acted like I wasn’t there but managed to make me feel like I was in the way. There was definitely something about me he didn’t like but I had never been able to put my finger on it. I was apprehensive at the thought of living in his house but the idea of being around Gary’s mom on a daily basis drowned that fear.



Still, I was nervous. What if Gary’s mom didn’t like me anymore? She had always favored me over Gary’s other friends and I was the only one she welcomed for a visit even when Gary wasn’t home. As a matter of fact, Gary had faded in my memory but thinking about his mom triggered strong feelings within me.



I paced up and down the hallway of the dorm from the foot of the stairs to the front door where my bags were waiting, on the inside of course; I wasn’t about to venture outside until someone I knew was there. I heard a car approaching as I turned from the stairs and picked up my pace. My heels were clicking loudly on the shining, waxed floor when the car stopped in front. I pushed the old door open to look but didn’t recognize the car, a new one of a make I didn’t know. The driver’s door opened and a woman got out.



“Allen?” the pretty woman called.



I nodded and she smiled, becoming instantly radiant. I picked up my bags and struggled through the doorway with them. Mrs. Robinson rushed up the steps.



“Here, let me help you with those.”



“I can get them,” I protested, but she took one anyway and I continued down the stairs with a suitcase in each hand and one bouncing on its wheels behind me.



She was opening the trunk, looking more beautiful than I remembered in a demure, summery shift that displayed tanned legs to several inches above the knee and matching, bare arms to the shoulders. Her hair fell over her face and she shook her head to fling it back, stooping to keep it from falling forward again.



“I’m sorry I’m so late. The traffic was just brutal.” She glanced at me and then looked back at the car, fumbling with the key. “Oh, shit. I forgot,” she exclaimed, straightening up. She pointed the keys at the trunk and pinched a button in her hand. The trunk popped up and she turned to me, laughing. “I’m such a ditz sometimes. I should be blonde.”



We stuffed my bags in the trunk and Gary’s mom gave me a hug.



“Anything else? Is that all?”



I nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed.



“Still a big talker, hey?”



I nodded again and she laughed as she walked around the car.



“It’s open,” she said.



I ran around and got into the car. She pulled away immediately and adeptly sped through the few cars in the curved driveway, paused briefly at the entrance to the college before turning right, and peeled away.



“I’m glad we heard about your situation, Allen, and I’m so happy you agreed to stay with us.”



“I hope I’m not a bother,” I said.



“Nonsense,” Gary’s mom cried. “I’m so bored at home. We’ll have so much fun.” She flashed her smile, then looked back at the road as she steered around a car that was doing the speed limit but was still too slow for her. “You can teach me to cook,” she laughed.



“Yes, of course,” I replied, then added, “not that you can’t…”



“Oh, Allen,” she said, dropping her right hand away from the steering wheel to cover mine.



Despite the thrill of her warm skin, I looked nervously at the road. She patted my hand.



“I’m so looking forward to this.”



She stomped on her brakes, swerved and swore, lifting her hand from mine to make a gesture.



“Oops, I’d better drive and not talk for awhile.”



I settled into corner near the door, angling myself so I could observe Mrs. Robinson, pushing back into the seat out of her line of sight to make myself less obvious. I needn’t have worried. Gary’s mom threw her attention into driving even faster as she maneuvered the car down the road as if it was an obstacle course. No wonder Gary had never learned to drive.



Not that I was unhappy. The way she drove let me refresh my memory with her bodily delights. Mrs. Robinson was truly an attractive woman whose physical attributes matched the effervescence of her personality. Her arms were firm and not flabby though there was little evidence of weight-lifting to attain such perfect form. Her legs, were similarly unmuscled yet looked strong and lithe. She was a natural.



The hem of her dress had slipped up her thighs and continued to creep upwards a tiny bit with every movement of her feet on the gas pedal or the brake. Tiny blondish hairs glinted in the sun for the very inside of her upper thighs which were an unblemished expanse of the softest-looking skin.



Mrs. Robinson said something and I jerked my eyes up in panic at getting caught staring at her legs but she was looking to the left, muttering at another driver as she passed him on the right. Her hand lifted from the wheel, delightfully, because it lifted her breasts momentarily, outlining their wonderful shape as they pressed against the summer dress. I hoped it was a long drive to Dexton. I couldn’t remember how far it was.



Sometime later, Mrs. Robinson pulled off the road into a quaint looking gas station. We had been traveling along a scenic road beside a lake for some miles after a frantic hour on the interstate. Not needing to watch the road so intensely, and unable to find anyone to pass, Gary’s mom had slowed down and caught me looking at her several times. I had blushed the first couple of times and tried to keep my eyes on the road ahead but each time they strayed back. She didn’t seem to mind and I gradually lost my discomfort while I talked to her as an excuse to be looking her way. She remarked on my chattiness, teasing me that it was about time I broke out of my shell.



“But be careful,” she cautioned with a good-natured laugh, “or those girls will make a meal out of a good-looking boy like you.”



That made me blush. Did she really think I was good-looking? I couldn’t remember anyone ever saying that about me.



After getting some gas, we bought some ice cream cones and left. Mrs. Robinson drove at a relaxed pace as she licked her cone.



“Try it,” she said, offering her cone to me.



I shook my head and she withdrew it. Immediately, I regretted my decision. Fortunately, she read my face and offered the cone to me again. I leaned toward her and licked her cone. It was good.



“Yum,” I said.



“Have another,” she replied.



I leaned toward her again but she pulled the cone back an inch. I leaned further and she pulled it away again, laughing. I had forgotten how much she loved to tease. I lunged forward and caught the cone, inadvertently sliding my tongue over her fingers wrapped around the base.



“Yum again,” I chuckled, nervously covering up my innocent indiscretion.



“I hope that tasted good,” she said and I flushed red as I realized she was aware that I had licked her fingers.



“Let me try yours,” she demanded, kindly directing her attention away from my embarrassed face.



I offered my cone. Mrs. Robinson stretched her neck out and opened her mouth but not far enough to reach the cone. I leaned closer but she moved back a bit so I released my seatbelt and shifted into the middle of the seat. I touched the ice cream to her lips and she treated it to a small stab of her tongue, licked her lips, then lavished the cone and my fingers with a long, wet scrape of her tongue. She giggled as she closed her mouth to stop the melting ice cream from leaking away but couldn’t prevent a drop from dribbling down her chin. I peeled the napkin from the base of the cone and used it to dab the drip before it fell on her dress.



“Thank you, sir.”



“You’re welcome,” I answered, leaning back, feeling somewhat absolved.



“More,” she insisted.



I tilted the cone toward Mrs. Robinson’s mouth. Just before reaching her outstretched lips, the top scoop teetered forward. Quickly, I swung my hand in and up to break its fall but it toppled anyway and bounced off her chin before plummeting downward. Happily, the forward motion of Mrs. Robinson’s chin as she tried to shove the wayward scoop back onto the cone pushed it into an arc that missed her dress. The blob of butterscotch ripple settled into the crease between her thighs near the hem of her dress.



“Oohhh, that’s cold,” Gary’s mom giggled. “Quick, get it out!”



I stared at the ice cream already starting to melt between her hot thighs.



“Grab it G…, Allen, quick.”



I reached down and, digging my fingers underneath, tried to lift the ball of ice cream but it skidded further up her legs instead.



“Whoa! Don’t get it on my dress,” she cried, dropping the hand holding her own cone down to drag the dress away from the ice cream with her three outer fingers.



Three things happened. First, the remaining rum and butter ice cream in Mrs. Robinson’s cone fell out onto the offending scoop from my cone. Second, Mrs. Robinson’s dress skidded up her thighs until a narrow strip of panty appeared. Third, my mind stopped working.



“Allen. I have to drive. You have to get the ice cream off my legs.”



My eyes were locked onto the narrow strip of panty stretched over a puffy expanse of very female anatomy characteristically demarcated by an intriguing central groove.



“Allen.”



“Allen!”



“Yes,” I answered thickly.



“Don’t push, scoop it back.”



“Okay.”



I turned my fingers around and used them like a hoe, digging the tips between her legs and lifting a finger full of ice cream up and out. I looked around for somewhere to get rid of it, then popped it into my mouth.



I lowered my hand to get some more. I looked at the mess between her legs but my eyes quickly glued onto the strip of pink panty again. Following my eyes and erroneously thinking her dress was in the way, Mrs. Robinson pulled it up further until the whole strip of underwear was revealed and a narrow expanse of sexy, pouting tummy above it. Tentatively, I put my fingers on her legs, close to the panty, and dug them in the groove of her pressed-together thighs, then scooped backwards to retrieve another batch of ice cream. About to get rid of it like before, in my mouth, Mrs. Robinson stopped me.



“Hey.”



Startled, I looked to see her waiting with an open mouth. I turned my hand around and ladled the ice cream onto her protruding tongue and inadvertently followed it inside to keep the ice cream from falling off. Her lips closed over my fingers before I could pull them out and she sucked them. I froze, shocked, until she mumbled for me to pull my fingers out. I did but she didn’t loosen her hold to make it easy.



“That was good,” she said when my fingers were finally free. “Get the rest of it.”



I was disappointed when I looked down. There was hardly any ice cream left. It had almost all melted into her legs.



“There isn’t much left,” I said.



“That’s too bad,” Gary’s mom laughed. “They’re good together. I think we’ve discovered a new flavor.”



I laughed too as I dug my fingers between her thighs again, almost touching the pink panty, and dragged them away too slowly. I lifted the little there was left to Mrs. Robinson’s lips and, this time, I moved my fingers over her warm tongue to help her clean it off.



“Mmmmmmm,” she murmured.



“Last one,” I said.



“Awwww.”



Why hadn’t I said there was more. She wasn’t counting. When I pulled away to return to my seat, her voice stopped me.



“Can you use this to clean my legs while I drive?”



I leapt at the chance, taking the proffered napkin and immediately began wiping her legs.



“Gently,” she said. “I’m not a table.”



So for several minutes, we drove down the country road while I sat next to Gary’s mom, licking the napkin and rubbing it gently up and down her thighs, but I didn’t dare brush against her panty again.



“Thank you, Allen. You’d better buckle up, we’re coming into town.”



I wondered how long she would have let me fondle her legs if the town hadn’t come. It wasn’t until I buckled my seatbelt that I noticed my robust erection. Startled, I glanced at Gary’s mom but she seemed oblivious. Seeing her dress still bunched up on her lap didn’t do anything to relieve the pressure in my pants and it wasn’t until we pulled into the driveway that she pulled the dress down.



She turned off the engine and twisted my way.



“Welcome home, Allen.”



Perhaps she was trying to make me feel at home to brace me for the cool reception I received from Mr. Robinson. He didn’t outright object to my presence but was obviously not thrilled with it either.



“He’s getting grumpier every year,” Mrs. Robinson whispered as she led me to the spare room downstairs in the basement. “Do what Gary does and act like he isn’t even here,” she suggested.



“Gary doesn’t get along with his dad?” I asked, surprised. Gary used to love playing ball with his father.



“They grew apart,” Mrs. Robinson said, then added, “it wasn’t Gary’s fault.”



I would have liked to hear more but she didn’t offer any further explanation. I decided it wasn’t my business and settled for watching Mrs. Robinson’s bottom as she descended the stairs ahead of me. She directed me to a large room that used to be a big, open play area when Gary and I were younger but had been finished into a large bedroom. Gary’s mom deposited my suitcase on the bed and I set the others down near it.



“What do you think?” she asked, slowly waving her arm in a wide arc.



“It’s great, awesome,” I said.



“I’m glad you like it,” she said, clearly pleased. She had obviously gone to a lot of work to make it nice.



“There’s an Ipod dock and speakers there, and the TV, of course,” she indicated the flat screen mounted on the wall, “with a blueray player, and a laptop.”



I was blown away. “I don’t know what to say,” I said, overwhelmed by her kindness.



“Don’t say anything,” she said. “If anyone deserves it, you do.”



I didn’t follow her logic but when she stepped close to me and rose up on her toes and kissed me on the lips, all potential argument melted away. She was gone in an instant and I was left wondering if she really had kissed me on the mouth but the tingle on my lips and the lingering press of her breasts against my chest were hard to ignore. I found myself wishing Gary would never come home. I had to get Mr. Robinson to like me, or at least not dislike me, so I could stay forever.



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That proved to be a difficult task. Mr. Robinson barely spoke at dinner other than asking to have the potatoes passed and even then, he didn’t ask me. Afterward, while helping Mrs. Robinson clean up in the kitchen, more to avoid being alone with her husband in the living room, she advised me to ignore him until he started to warm up to me on his own.



“He’ll come around,” she said. “He just doesn’t like change. Anyway, Gary and I want you here, so he’ll just have to adapt.”



I barely heard the last part because when she said, ‘Gary and I want you here’, she had nudged her knee against mine. At that particular instant, Mr. Robinson happened to come into the kitchen. He deposited his empty dessert plate on the counter and turned to go away, looking even grumpier than he had at dinner. I was sure he had seen Mrs. Robinson rub her leg against mine.



“Can we at least have some coffee?” Mr. Robinson asked, though it didn’t sound like a question.



“Sure, honey,” Mrs. Robinson replied sweetly.



As he passed through the doorway, Mrs. Robinson nudged my knee again with hers as if it were a secret method of communication she had devised just for us. The next few days were like that. Mrs. Robinson always found ways to make me aware of her, usually by nudging me with her knee but also by placing her hand on my arm or, a couple of times, stretching her foot out to poke my leg when I was sitting on the same couch as her.



She would ask me to fetch or do something for her, like asking me to check the patio for dishes when she was loading the dishwasher. That was okay. I could go that far outside by myself when someone I knew was close but then she asked me to go farther afield, still in the yard, but out to the very end to get a hand trowel from the shed or to move the sprinkler. I handled those quite well. I was a mess inside the first couple of times but managed to hide it from Mrs. Robinson. She was always very pleased when I finished one of her little tasks, and spoke to me in a flirty voice and rewarded me with an intimate hug which I loved.



Still, I found myself trying to avoid Mrs. Robinson when her husband was home. That was hard to do because she had begun to wear dresses of thinner material that hugged her body so closely it didn’t look like she was wearing any underwear, or at least, stuff that was so flimsy it didn’t show through her clothes. The lack of undergarments on her upper body was obvious because the summer dresses she favored were the type with a loose, low neckline that separated into wide straps that curved over her shoulders before joining again low on her back, under a wide expanse of bare skin.



My nervousness about Mr. Robinson’s presence wasn’t so much that she flirted with me when he wasn’t around but rather that she didn’t stop even when he was there. True she didn’t flirt as overtly but she still did it. I wasn’t afraid that Mr. Robinson would get violent but rather that he would make me leave.



Mrs. Robinson’s more muted flirting in her husband’s presence was usually something like adopting a provocative posture such as reclining on the couch in a way that presented a long expanse of bare leg, or sitting in a way that forced one of her breasts to thrust against her dress to starkly define its form. If I wasn’t looking, she would make a movement or a sound to draw my attention.



One way or another, I was in a constant state of arousal, whether walking around or sitting down. I gave up trying to hide the affect she had on me, that is, to hide my erections, at least from her. It was impossible because I always had one to some degree. When it was harder, usually after an extended display of some part of her body, covered yet not hidden by clothing carefully chosen to be incapable of true disguise, or the casual nudge or light touch of her hand which was becoming more frequent and lingering.



It was on one such occasion, that Mrs. Robinson was lying on the couch with her feet stretched out along it, while Mr. Robinson sat in the chair behind her and I in another across the room. She raised her knees up and that caused her dress to fall from her knees and slide way down her thighs. I hadn’t seen so much of her legs since the day she drove me home but this time my vantage point allowed me to see the glorious curve on the underside of her leg from the knee down as it thickened into her ass.

Almost instantly, I became rock hard and peered over the top of my book at the backside of her legs. Mr. Robinson grunted. I glanced at him, guilt flooding through me. The set of his jaw was stern but he wasn’t looking at me. I had the feeling he was aware of the state of his wife’s dress. I looked back to enjoy it anyway. I simply could not avert my eyes for more than a few seconds.



Mrs. Robinson lifted one foot up and stretched her leg out until her toes pointed toward the upper corner of the room, tensing her calf prettily. Slowly, she let it settle back into its former place. A few minutes later, she repeated the exercise with her other foot. Over the next half hour, she did this several times and my cock got harder and harder.



Once, she let her knees fall apart, opening her legs wide. Sitting directly to her side as I was, I couldn’t see between her legs but I imagined what it would look like anyway and almost came in my pants picturing her exposed pussy, or better, one hidden only by that narrow strip of pink panty I had seen in the car with tufts of chestnut hair peeking out the sides.



I was not particularly interested in sex and wasn’t one to seek porn on the internet but I wanted to fuck this woman so badly I leaked in my underwear. Mrs. Robinson eventually pulled her dress up closer to her knees and braced it with the book she was reading. A few minutes later, she looked over at me and asked if the book I was reading was good, then asked I wanted some tea. I declined, saying I was tired and wanted to get an early night.



After I went downstairs, I heard Mr. and Mrs. Robinson talking. He didn’t sound happy and whatever she was saying in response didn’t ease his mood. Sometime after the altercation ended, I was in bed with the lamp turned on its lowest setting, watching TV with the sound down while my hand absently twiddled with my cock which I had long ago emptied into the toilet. Mrs. Robinson entered the room and moved quickly to the bedside.



“You’re sure you don’t want some tea, Allen?” she asked.



I shook my head, barely able to speak. Mrs. Robinson had changed into her bed attire, a long nightgown that flowed around her legs as she walked. The top was the same shape as the dresses she liked: wide shoulder straps bordering a low neckline. She bent down over me.



“You forgot to give me a kiss goodnight,” she said, hovering over me with pouting lips and dangling breasts.



“I didn’t know… but, we haven’t…”



“I know, but we should start. I’ve been trying so hard to make you feel comfortable, to feel at home. You do like me, don’t you, Allen?”



“Yes, of course,” I stammered.



“Then, kiss me.”



I stretched up and brought my lips to hers, giving her a quick kiss. Mrs. Robinson followed me down as I sank back into the pillow, her lips regaining contact with mine. She kissed me more firmly on the lips but it lasted only a little longer than mine. She pulled up an inch or so.



“Is that all?” she asked, her breasts brushing my chest.



“I… I, uh, I…”



Mrs. Robinson stood up.



“Goodnight, Allen.”



“Goodnight, Mrs. Robinson.”



“In real life, Allen, you have to reach for what you want and, if at first you don’t succeed, you must try again.”



Mrs. Robinson walked away. Her back was bare and the filmy nightgown couldn’t hide the fact that nothing else covered her bottom. I guess I was supposed to think about what she meant but my thoughts were captured by her derriere.



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The next morning, Mrs. Robinson wore a short skirt and t-shirt top that curled around her neck but left her breasts hardly covered. Mr. Robinson looked even less pleased than he had the night before. He seemed torn after breakfast, looking reluctant to leave but sufficiently angry to stomp out of the house, though he left without saying anything.



Mrs. Robinson went out into the backyard to sit in the sun but I stayed inside, afraid that Mr. Robinson would return, angry enough for action. After an hour or so he hadn’t come back and my desire got the better of me. I went outside and sat on the lounge next to Mrs. Robinson. She was reading but as soon as I sat down she dropped her book and started rubbing oil on her legs. It was extremely erotic, the more so because I knew she was putting on a show for me. I wanted to touch her, to offer my services to apply the oil for her, but I couldn’t summon the courage to do it.



After her legs were done, Mrs. Robinson did her arms. She applied the oil in long, slow strokes, much as she’d done her legs. My cock was burning but it got even harder when her hands slipped under the lapel of her shirt to bathe the inner swells of her breasts with oil. Mrs. Robinson lifted the material away and rubbed the oil over her breasts and paid no attention to her enraptured audience who was staring openly at her partly bared breasts. She surprised me when she suddenly swung her legs toward me and sat up, looking directly at me. Boldly, though I felt no courage, I didn’t look away.



“You’re starting to come along, Allen.”



I didn’t know what to say or do. I thought I knew what she was talking about but was afraid to acknowledge it. Luckily, she relieved me of the obligation to respond.



“I’m hungry. Should we have some lunch?”



I nodded, relieved.



There was no further teasing that day until after supper when Mrs. Robinson repeated the leg show on the couch. Mr. Robinson seemed particularly unhappy but after I went to bed, surprisingly, there were no angry voices.



This time, when she leaned down to kiss me goodnight, I tried for a longer kiss and even reached up to lightly grasp her shoulders when she started to pull away in an effort to keep the weight of her breasts on my chest.



“Do you like kissing me, Allen?”



“Yes.”



“Do you like looking at my legs while I’m reading?”



I thought about denying it but her expression demanded honesty.



“Yes.”



“Gary’s father doesn’t like it.”



“I know,” I acknowledged.



“But you look anyway?”



“I can’t help it,” I admitted, blushing.



“That’s alright, Allen. I don’t mind.”



“You don’t?”



“No. It makes me feel pretty and warm inside.”



“It does?”



“Yes.”



Mrs. Robinson leaned down to kiss me briefly again, increasing the weight of her breasts on my chest so much I felt them flatten out.



“Do you feel warm inside when you watch me?”



I blushed again.



“Yes.”



“Good,” Mrs. Robinson whispered, “but you’re not allowed to look at my legs again unless you do something for me.”



“What?” I asked.



“Go to the store for me to get a few things.”



“By myself?”



“Yes. By yourself, but it’s only to the corner store. You can do that for me, can’t you?”



Mrs. Robinson’s breasts became heavier and her lips nuzzled mine.



“Yes,” I gasped.



“Good,” she sighed, and kissed me, lingering longer than before.



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The next day, I went to the corner store and returned with a small carton of milk. I didn’t tell Mrs. Robinson that I ran all the way back and she didn’t ask why I was breathing so hard. I was disappointed that she had changed from the short skirt she had been wearing into a longer dress. She noticed me looking at her covered legs.



“Tonight, Allen, after Mr. Robinson gets home.”



My disappointment showed.



“There, there. You can wait for a few hours, can’t you?”



The sadness that had enveloped me did not diminish with her promise. I had gone all the way to the store, on my own. I was expecting an immediate reward.



Mrs. Robinson relented. “Would you like a quick peek?”



I nodded enthusiastically.



Mrs. Robinson bent over slightly and grasped the hem of her skirt. She lifted it up a bit, smiling when my eyes became more intense.



“You do like my legs, don’t you, Allen?”



“Yes.”



The dress lifted higher, half way up her thighs.



“Do you really like them?”



“Yes, I really like them.”



Higher.



“Really, really like them?”



“Yes, I really, really, really like them.”



“That much?” Mrs. Robinson laughed. “Oh, my.”



I forgot to nod because her hand had continued to pull the dress up, and up, and up, and finally bared the lower part of her panties, yellow ones this time. The dress kept rising until Mrs. Robinson’s belly appeared and the arms of the panties arching over her hips.



“Do you like my panties, Allen?”



I nodded speechless as Mrs. Robinson twisted her torso very slowly, just far enough to show the jut of her ass before turning back.



“Would like me to wear them tonight, or do you prefer the pink ones?”



“Yes.” I couldn’t believe her admission that she knew I had seen the panties she had worn the day she picked me up.



“With Mr. Robinson sitting right behind me?”



My cock lurched at her acknowledgement that she had knowingly teased me in front of her husband.



“Yeah!”



“Okay, if you really want me to.”



Mrs. Robinson dropped the dress, walked over, and leaned against me.



“It does make me feel warm inside when you look at me like that.”



She stretched up on her toes and kissed me.



“I think it would be safer if you went to your room until supper.”



I didn’t want to but I did as she asked.



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That night, Gary’s mom put on a very good show. She managed to rub her legs and feet together which was very sexy. Her legs seemed to have been oiled which reminded me of the day she had oiled them in front of me, and her breasts. When she parted her legs, I vividly imagined the tiny yellow panties stretching over her pussy and, this time, I knew there wasn’t enough hair to peek out the sides. From what I’d seen that morning, there might not be any hair there at all.



Near the end, she turned to look at me, casting her eyes behind her as if to ask if her husband was watching. I shook my head in minute denial. Her hand grasped the hem of her dress on my side and pulled it up and over her hip. There were no panty arms. She wasn’t wearing any underwear!



Later, when she came down to kiss me goodnight, I couldn’t hide the thrust of my erection under the blankets. When she looked at it, it became even harder.



“Do I make you feel that good, Allen?”



“Yes.”



“Good, because tomorrow, I want you to do something else for me.”



“Go to the store?”



“Yes.”



Gary’s mom leaned over me. The nightgown she wore tonight was cut lower and her breasts were almost falling out.



“But this time, I want you to get some new running shoes for yourself. I’ll give you the money.”



“Running shoes? From where?”



“The mall.”



Fear rose up and grabbed my heart in its fist. I started to shake. Mrs. Robinson leaned close until her breasts grazed my chest and hung in front of my face.



“Allen. Focus.”



“The mall is a long way. I don’t know…”



Mrs. Robinson stretched her leg out and put her foot onto the bed.



“It’s only a few blocks. Do you want to feel how warm you make me?” she husked.



I couldn’t speak but my eyes provided an answer. Gary’s mom climbed over me and lowered herself full length onto my body. I could feel her warmth even through the covers, especially the heat emanating from her groin.



“Can you feel it, Allen?”



“Yes.”



I was so excited, I forgot about the mall. Her groin was positioned directly over mine, her pussy pressing against my erection. My cock twitched.



“Will you go to the mall for me, Allen?”



My cock twitched again.



“Will you let me feel how warm you are every time we kiss goodnight?”



She laughed. “Allen, that’s very good. You should ask when you want something, even if you can’t have it.”



“You mean, I can’t?”



“I didn’t say that. Usually people don’t get what they want so you have to pick the right time to ask, like now, when you have something to trade. You have to go to the mall first.”



“Okay,” I responded, bravely.



I put my hands on Mrs. Robinson’s shoulders so she wouldn’t pull away. I pushed up, holding tight but instead of pulling away, she pressed down.



“Kiss me,” she whispered.



While I kissed her, our private parts pressed together through the blanket. My hands slipped from her shoulders and cupped the sides of her breasts which were flattened on my chest. I couldn’t squeeze under them and didn’t really try. Maybe one day I would ask if I could see them. A fleeting sense of unease passed through my mind. Why was Gary’s mom doing this? She never had before, at least, not that I could remember. Then, Mrs. Robinson’s mouth moved on mine and my discomfort dissipated.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



The guy in the sports store thought I was weird. I had stumbled in and handed him the money Mrs. Robinson had given me, barking, “I need some running shoes,” before slumping into a chair. He measured my foot while I struggled to control my dizziness and tried to look like I was simply disinterested.



I looked at the open entrance to the store. Run out, my mind screamed, but another part, the bit that had been activated by Mrs. Robinson’s suggestive behavior, exerted more control. You’ve come this far, suffered this much, if you run it will all be for nothing. You can do it, and think of the reward, think of what’s waiting for you at home.



I pictured Mrs. Robinson reclining on the couch, legs fully displayed, calling to me despite her husband’s presence. My mind discorporated from my body and swung around until I was gazing between her widespread knees, observing her pink panties between the fingers of a hand placed more to attract than obscure. From what I could see of them, the panties were alive. Mrs. Robinson was speaking but I could barely hear her, Act normal, Allen. You can do it if you try. Do it for me. Her other hand stroked slowly up and down the inside of her thighs.



“Would you like to take these, sir?”



I looked at the salesman and my head suddenly cleared.



“Yes,” I replied. “I’ll wear them.”



“Okay, I’ll box these up for you,” he said, lifting my old shoes.



“That won’t be necessary. Just throw them away for me,” I said.



“But they’re almost new,” the salesman protested.



“I was just kidding,” I laughed.



It wasn’t normal to leave your shoes behind when you bought new ones, or to tell the salesman to keep the change which is what I was about to do in my hurry to leave. Painful as it was, I waited patiently for the man to put my shoes in the box for the new runners, ring up the sale, and hand me the change. I didn’t even run out of the store and, surprisingly, I didn’t hurry out of the mall. In fact, I strolled home at a leisurely pace, my head full of thoughts about Mrs. Robinson. I can do this, I could do anything, for her.



I was crushed to see Mr. Robinson’s car parked in the drive when I got home. I went around back, planning to enter through the kitchen in order to avoid him but as I approached the back door, I heard voices through the open window.



“You’re going too far, Joan. It’s going to get out of control.”



“I know what I’m doing.”



“Do you? You’re constantly flirting with him, and showing off your legs like that on the couch, for God’s sake.”



“I was not showing off my legs. I was just reading.”



“Joan!”



“Okay, so I was flashing my legs. So what? Do you know he went to the store to get milk yesterday, and do you know where he is right now?”



“No.”



“I’ll tell you where. He’s gone to the mall to get a pair of running shoes.” The triumph in Mrs. Robinson’s voice was palpable.



“Joan, for Christ’s sake, you didn’t send him to the mall by himself. Jesus H. Christ!”



“He’ll be fine.”



“That’s too much. It’s too soon.” Heavy footsteps receded.



“Don’t you dare go down there. You’ll ruin everything I’ve done.”



“He can’t do that. It’s too much,” Mr. Robinson cried, surprising me with his obvious concern for my welfare.



“He can, and he will. He’ll do it for me.”



“Why? Do you think flashing your silly legs can overcome…”



“Shut up! You promised me you wouldn’t talk about that.”



Panicked by the threat of an imminent physical confrontation, I beat a hasty retreat, running around to the front of the house, the first time I had used my new runners for what they were meant to do. I took a deep breath and opened the door. The muffled words became louder but immediately stopped.



“Hi, I’m home.”



Mrs. Robinson beamed while I showed off my new runners but she couldn’t have looked at me with more interest that Mr. Robinson. He seemed to be truly amazed. Why? It wasn’t that big a deal to go to the mall. In fact, I was going to ask his wife tonight if she wanted me to get anything else for her tomorrow. Boy, if he was mad about her showing off her legs, he’d go ballistic if he saw her lying on top of me. But right now, he didn’t seem the least bit mad. In fact, he seemed tremendously pleased and I felt a little guilty.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



We had been kissing and nuzzling for several minutes. My hands had slid down Mrs. Robinson’s shoulders onto her back and I was lightly brushing my fingers over the bare skin there. Every time I urged my hardon upward, I kissed her for a distraction. Still, I knew she was aware of the effort to satisfy my carnal urges and perhaps excite her into doing more than she intended.



Clearly, Mrs. Robinson had set her mind to relieving her son’s friend of his minor affliction, my fear of being alone, especially outside or in crowded places, by using her charms as the candy of persuasion. Well, it had worked and I intended for it to keep on working as long as more treats were offered. I thought about offering to fetch additional things from the mall but then worried that my interests might be better served if there was still doubt about the continued success of my cure.



Mrs. Robinson pressed her knees into the mattress beside me to lift her pelvis up, away from my searching hardness.



“I was really scared there for a while,” I said, sliding my hands down to the middle of her back and applying gentle downward pressure, urging her center to return.



“But you overcame it,” she responded, pride in our mutual accomplishment evident in her voice.



“I almost didn’t,” I said. “I almost ran back.”



“Really?”



“Yes,” I said, without offering further explanation.



Mrs. Robinson looked concerned. I chose that instant to bulge my cock upwards while pressing my hands firmly into her back.



“But you managed to compose yourself?” She succumbed to the pressure of my hands.



“Yes. I thought of you, and being here with you like this.” I pushed my erection up and she didn’t pull away. “That’s the only thing that saved me.”



“See, you can do it.”



“Only because of you,” I whispered, tugging on her waist and moving my hardon around. “I couldn’t do it if it wasn’t for you.”



“No, you did it on your own. You don’t need me.”



“Yes, I do.”



“Allen, Mr. Robinson is getting very suspicious. I really shouldn’t have let our little flirting game go so far.”



“I can’t do it without your help. I’ll go again tomorrow but I can’t unless you promise you’ll keep helping me.”



“I can’t help you forever, just until you’re comfortable on your own.”



“Thanks, Mrs. Robinson.”



I pushed up for another muted grind and covered myself with more talk.



“Mr. Robinson wants me to do it to. I think he likes me better now.”



“Of course he does,” Mrs. Robinson said, holding my face in her soft hands.



“I didn’t think he did before,” I said, and engaged her in a kiss.



For the first time, I slipped the tip of my tongue between Mrs. Robinson’s lips, fully expecting to be rejected. I wasn’t. It felt so great, I almost forgot to press my erection into her belly. Almost.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



“You got everything?” Mrs. Robinson exclaimed, looking at the pile of cosmetics I had emptied onto the counter after coming in through the back door. “From all those different stores?”

Despite my success the day before, Gary’s mom was somewhat amazed.



“You know why,” I whispered, closing in behind her to nudge the back of her knee with mine.



Her eyes darted toward the living room where Mr. Robinson was enjoying the evening news. She straightened her legs and I knelt behind her, poking in both knees, causing her legs to bend and her rump to press back, right into my waiting, tented groin. She would have had to be drugged or asleep not to feel my erection which had been growing all the way from the mall. I used her partial fall as an excuse to catch her, my hands pressing against the sides of her breasts. I kissed the side of her face.



“Allen, don’t!” she whispered, quickly turning around.



“One little kiss for my reward,” I whispered back, pulling her toward me and seeking her lips.



“Mr. Robinson is right there,” she protested.



“I don’t care,” I insisted, my lips landing on hers.



“Shhhhh, be quiet.”



I plied her lips with mine and then slipped my tongue into her mouth. Mrs. Robinson resisted briefly but I knotted a handful of hair behind her neck to prevent her from pulling away. After a few seconds, she relaxed but I waited until the end of the kiss before sliding my palm over the front of her left breast. Mrs. Robinson didn’t protest and, luckily, she had just turned around to survey the collection of cosmetics when Mr. Robinson entered the kitchen.



“What’s this, then? Another successful shopping foray?”



“Yes. Allen picked all of this up for me at the mall today, and everything is from a different store.” Mrs. Robinson didn’t point out that all the stores from the same section in the outer ring of the main level at the mall.



“Really? That’s very impressive. I told your mother it was just a temporary thing.”



Mrs. Robinson’s eyes shot daggers at her husband.



“I mean, this fear of going out, it was… uh, but you’ve made an amazing recovery, simply amazing.”



“Yes. I think I might be able to keep it up, with a little help.” I skirted around Mr. Robinson’s indiscretion of mentioning my mother. He knew my parents were dead, and Mrs. Robinson’s reaction indicated she was worried that I would find talk about my parents difficult to handle.



Mr. Robinson awkwardly tried to change the subject, “The change in scenery probably helps, I mean, getting out of the h… school.”



“Yes, simply amazing,” Mrs. Robinson broke in. “Allen has made tremendous progress, but we should try a few more times before we count our chickens.” She shot her husband a dirty look and dismissed him before he did further damage, “I think the news is back on.”



After he was gone, she placated me, “Don’t pay any attention to what he says, Allen. Sometimes he doesn’t think before he speaks.”



I thought Mrs. Robinson was overly worried. My parents had gone so long ago I couldn’t remember much about them, not even what they looked like, which I knew was strange given the accident had occurred just a few years ago. Perhaps, Mrs. Robinson was right to be worried. Maybe there was something about the accident that I was repressing. Why else would I be unable to remember what my parents looked like? A feeling of discomfort washed over me but I put on a brave face for Mrs. Robinson.



“I didn’t spare him a single thought,” I smiled, looking down at Mrs. Robinson’s breasts which were heaving slightly from the anger she was feeling toward her husband.



She looked down at herself and smiled. “Please don’t tell me what you were thinking about just now.”



That night, reading on the couch with her husband sitting in his chair behind her and me opposite in my preferred observation post, it was very clear what I had been thinking about. Despite the caution I had overheard Mr. Robinson offer to Mrs. Robinson, she conducted an even more sensual display of her legs than usual. I think it was the way she used the top of one foot to rub the back of the other leg’s calf, again and again, always slowly, as if to purposely draw attention to her legs.



Mr. Robinson kept his eyes riveted on either the TV or his newspaper. I was no longer worried about him catching me watching his wife. He was obviously pleased with my new ability to roam about in public and I knew, from the overheard conversation, that he attributed my success to his wife’s efforts to entice me with just rewards such as her current exhibit. What he previously thought inappropriate seemed to me now allowed. He knew what was going on, if only in a limited way, and apparently the end justified the means. That would definitely change if he knew about the downstairs treats or, due to Mrs. Robinson’s own inadvertent suggestion, my growing willingness to demand more.



When Mr. Robinson went to use the bathroom during a commercial break, I walked over to stand beside Mrs. Robinson, looking down upon her lovely, bare thighs. She didn’t try to cover herself, just as she hadn’t when her husband stood behind her and could have easily looked over to witness her wanton display. Only, she knew he wouldn’t look and that I would do so intensely, but what she didn’t expect was the forthright, almost possessive manner in which I reached down and pushed her knees apart, exposing a pair of blue panties.



She didn’t look around to see where her husband was—the toilet hadn’t yet flushed—the fleeting anger was directed at me. I didn’t know yet that a woman usually doesn’t like to be hurried or pushed. Nonetheless, she made no attempt to close her legs but she looked away, disinterested. Another lesson: Mrs. Robinson was demonstrating that force diminishes value.



“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I couldn’t wait. I was thinking about tomorrow and my courage was waning.”



Mrs. Robinson’s expression softened.



“You still need my help, don’t you, Allen?”



“More than ever,” I confirmed, moving her knee in and out and observing the tantalizing movement it caused across the front of her panties. “Will you come tonight?”



“Do you need me to?”



“Yes,” I replied throatily, in the most desperately needy voice I could muster.



“Then, I’ll come.”



The toilet flushed.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



I had turned all the lights off. The room was lit only by the flickering light of the television when she entered my room and swayed toward my bed in her signature full length nightgown with a deeply cut bodice. I had the presence of mind to appreciate what a sexy woman she was as I enjoyed the formation of each leg within the gown and its subsequent disappearance as the other one started to appear with each new step.



She kept her eyes focused on mine, which is probably why she didn’t notice that I had swept the blankets to the side. She leaned down to give me a kiss.



“I can’t stay. Mr. Robinson was too excited to go to sleep.”



I didn’t argue. I simply raised my lips up to meet hers. As we kissed, I curled my hand around to the back of her head and when she sank lower, I put my arm around her shoulder to encourage her descent. Her knee pressed into the mattress.



“Maybe for just one long kiss,” she whispered.



I let her sink down until she was lying atop me, keeping her mouth engaged in a very long kiss.



“You’re very naughty to delay me,” she said, trailing her fingers across my forehead. “Mr. Robinson will wonder what’s keeping me.”



“Will he?” I asked, recapturing her mouth.



When our mouths parted, she said, “We really have to talk about setting some boundaries.”



Suddenly, her face filled with surprise.



“Allen,” she cried, twisting about on top of me. “What have you done with the blankets?”



“It was too hot. I left them off,” I answered, my hands encircling her waist to keep her from escaping.



“But we can’t lie together like this.”



“Like what?”



“Without blankets.”



“Why not? What difference does it make?”



“It’s not proper.”



“Why? We’re both dressed.” I didn’t mention that I was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts. I tried to kiss her but she pulled away.



“I don’t know. I think it’s too much.”



“It’s fine,” I said, stretching up and raining several small kisses on her lips.



She was reluctant but many kisses turned into another long one. It was an amazing kiss, the warmest, most fluid one we’d ever had, perhaps stoked by the proximity of our genitals separated by two thin barriers of clothing, her heat and softness contrasting with my urgent hardness. I could taste the reluctant desire seething inside her.



When we finished, I was surprised by her seeming acceptance of our new situation. She offered no indication that she wanted to leave except for a verbal one which I ignored.



“Mr. Robinson will be wondering where I am. I really should go.”



I moved my hands up and down her back, stretching up to brush her lips with mine and basking in the puffy softness pressing against me. I rolled her a bit from side to side and was delighted that she allowed me to exacerbate the pressure between us that delivered a tingling glow that spread wonderfully throughout my groin.



“I really should go,” she whispered.



I knew she didn’t want to.



“He’s probably fallen asleep.”



“Do you think so?”



“Was he reading?”



I pushed my hands down to the small of her back and beyond, slightly up the rise to her buttocks, stunned that there was no objection. Maybe setting boundaries wasn’t such a bad idea so I could relish the thrill of breaking them.



“Yes.”



“You said he always falls asleep right away when he reads in bed.”



“He does,” she confirmed.



“So, you can stay a little longer.”



“Maybe,” she chuckled, this time playfully brushing her lips across mine, amused by my logic but accepting it just the same.



I pushed my hands higher up the forbidden slope.



“What are you doing back there, Mister?”



“Checking out my prize,” I said, pushing my hands up to the crest and letting them lie still, cupping the crest of her buttocks.



“Your prize?”



“Yes. Those blue panties.”



“You’ll have to go somewhere special if you want me to give them to you tomorrow,” she teased, amazingly not making me remove my hands which were already beginning to gently squeeze.



“Tonight,” I corrected her.



“Tonight?”



“Tonight,” I repeated. “I want to hold them tonight so I’ll be ready for the challenge tomorrow.”



It made sense but she wasn’t succumbing to my logic this time.



“I can’t give them to you tonight. I’m wearing them.”



“You’re wearing a nightgown. Just slip them off.”



“I can’t go to bed without my panties. My husband will see.”



“Mr. Robinson is asleep,” I said, deliberately trying to distance him.



“He might not be.”



“He won’t notice.”



“No, he probably won’t,” she admitted.



The tone in her voice shot a thrill through my chest that ended lower, causing a shiver in my dick. It spoke bucketloads about Mrs. Robinson’s sex life.



“I would notice.”



“Would you?” she smiled, inquisitively.



“I’ve noticed every day since I came here.”



“Yes, I guess you have,” Mrs. Robinson giggled.



I grabbed her lips with mine and kissed her hard, pulling my left hand up to hold her face against mine but freely exploring her ass with my right. It was fantastic watershed moment in our relationship, one that wasn’t mentioned in the brief interlude between that kiss and the next. At the end of that one, we were both panting and there was no breath left for words, except, that is, when she felt me using both hands to draw her nightgown up, bunching it on her bottom.



“What are you doing?”



“Getting ready to take your panties off.”



“I didn’t say you could.”



I didn’t answer but kept pulling the nightgown up.



“Not now. I’ll take them off when I leave.”



“No, now,” I insisted, offering no reason.



“Allen, I can’t.”



“Yes, you can.”



Nothing more was said. Silently, I tugged the long nightgown until it was bunched up on her bum, spilling over onto the slope to her narrow waist. I loved the way her butt flared into its full expression.



We lay still, as if we were both savoring the moment. Then, Mrs. Robinson started to push her panties down.



“Let me do it.”



She relented, allowing me to struggle with the panties which were actually very easy to remove but I made a meal of it, rubbing my hands all over her cheeks and accidentally letting my fingers stray into crevices in which they had no business. I managed to get them to her knees and then used my foot to push them down to her ankles, an action which me to visit a lot of inexcusable motion upon her pussy through the thin nightgown. I pushed the panties off her feet and kicked. They landed on Mrs. Robinson’s back where I pulled them up for inspection and sniffed them.



“Allen, that’s gross.”



“Sorry,” I laughed. “I couldn’t help myself.”



“Well, don’t do it again. At least, not in front of me.”



“I won’t if you let me do it to the real thing.”



“Allen!”



“Sorry. Kiss better?”



“Okay, but this is the last one. I really have to go.”



It was a passionate kiss. Mrs. Robinson let me run my hand all over her bare ass which I hadn’t recovered with the nightgown. The curvature of those two globes was incredibly exciting. She even let me grasp a cheek in each hand and pull them apart a few times. Judging by the muted snort through her nostrils each time I did that, I surmised that it must feel good and was probably stretching and relaxing her pussy lips. Upon that realization, I spread her cheeks more frequently. As the kiss became more active, Mrs. Robinson shoved herself upon me of her own accord without the need for me to pull her down, which I still did since I was her working her ass cheeks anyway. Maybe she was giving second thought to my suggestion of doing the real thing.



A dampness flooded my shorts and, for a second, I thought I had come but then realized I hadn’t. Mrs. Robinson broke the kiss and nestled her sweaty cheek tightly against mine, her chin digging into the hollow of my neck as she panted heavily beside my head, hands clutching my shoulders. She had come. I breached my own dam within seconds. Less than a minute after that, Mrs. Robinson stood up. There was a large damp spot on the front of her nightgown in a very incriminating spot, likely a mixture of our mutual excitement.



“Oh, dear,” she said, then pulled the long nightgown over her head. Completely nude, she laughed and said, “Mr. Robinson better be asleep.” She draped the nightgown over her arm and slowly walked away, leaving the beautiful ass my hands had recently become so familiar with to tease my following eyes in the dim, flickering light.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



The next day, Mrs. Robinson sent me on a more adventurous mission to the ticket center in the center of the lower floor in the mall. I tried, I really did, but when the center was in sight, I suddenly felt like I was being smothered, and ran outside and didn’t stop until I was home.



“That was quick,” Mrs. Robinson called from the kitchen when she heard me burst in.



“I forgot something, haven’t done it yet,” I yelled as I bolted downstairs.



Flinging myself on onto the bed, I almost burst into tears. Though I didn’t, I’m sure I looked like I had. A big baby who can’t even buy tickets to a baseball game. I slugged the mattress hard, half a dozen times. Fuck!



I threw myself onto my back, lifting a hand and resting its back on my forehead. I breathed deeply, trying to force the frustration out of my body and the feeling of shame by digging my knuckles into my eyes. What would she think of me now? How could I face her?



There was a light knock on my door, though it wasn’t closed. I twisted onto my side, back to the door, so I didn’t have to face her.



“Are you okay, Allen?”



“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be up in a minute.” Though I tried, I wasn’t able to keep the despair out of my voice.



“There’s no need to go, Allen. Mr. Robinson can pick the tickets up on his way home from work.”



I turned onto my back. Even without looking directly at her, I was aware of her body.



“Then it won’t be a surprise,” I lamented.



“He’ll still be thrilled to go to a game with you.”



“How can I go to a game if I can’t even get the tickets? No. I’m going back. Just give me a minute.”



“Okay, Allen. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”



Ten minutes later I went upstairs, feeling sheepish but refortified. I was determined to prove to Mrs. Robinson, and Mr. Robinson too for that matter, that I wasn’t a basket case. I was a man, not a scarety-cat little kid, but as I topped the first set of stairs near the entranceway my resolve began to fade. I turned away and climbed the short set of stairs to the main level. Mrs. Robinson came into view in pieces, first her head, then her body, and finally her legs. She was facing away from me, puttering with something on the kitchen counter. I knew she wasn’t really doing anything, that she was really just waiting to see me off. I hadn’t turned away from the door in fear, I told myself, it just wouldn’t be right to leave without assuring her that I could do this small thing for her.



Since leaving my room, Mrs. Robinson had changed her dress. It looked like a simple, plain brown shift from the back but when she turned around and smiled at me, it was anything but. The neckline plunged deep, almost to her belly button, bracketing the tanned inner swells of her breasts.



“Are you off?” she asked, her smile recognizing that she had swept my breath away.



“Yes. I just came up to say goodbye.”



“Goodbye? We’ll never say goodbye, Allen.”



I was almost to her when she raised her arms for a hug. I stepped into her arms, slipping mine around her waist, and looked into her warm, welcoming eyes. They were all the inspiration I needed but I lowered my gaze to take in the unblemished, sculptured skin revealed by her sexy dress.



“Do you like my new dress?”



“Yes. It’s beautiful.”



“Dresses are nice, Allen. Women are beautiful.”



“Then, you’re beautiful.”



“I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”



“You don’t have to.”



I stepped back, pulling her waist with me, which pushed her breast up, almost popping them out of the dress.



“That’s a very dangerous dress,” I remarked.



“Then it’s suitable attire to bid my hero farewell on a dangerous mission.”



“Yes, it’s perfect for making a man know what he’s fighting for,” I laughed, making a mountain out of the molehill of a task facing me. Suddenly, the enormity of that challenge, for me, at least, ripped the gaiety from my chest, leaving it hollow. I gasped for air.



“Allen, what’s the matter?”



I sank to my knees and buried my face in her dress, my arms falling from her waist and wrapping around her thighs. Mrs. Robinson’s fingers slid through my hair.



“Shhhhhhh,” she comforted.



I shook my head, shaking off her hands.



“Don’t,” I cried. I was surprised by the look of helplessness in her face. Why should she feel that way? I was the one with the handicap. I realized with a start that when Mrs. Robinson helped me she helped herself, too. To be unable to help someone close to you must be unbearable, and her reaction showed that she cared for me deeply. I resolved to help her. I pushed up on her dress.



“Allen, Mr. Robinson will be home any minute.”



“I need see why I’m going,” I said, pushing the dress higher, overcoming the feeble attempt of her hands to block my progress.



“It’s too late, today. We’ll try again tomorrow.”



“No,” I firmly rejected the offer of escape. I knew I couldn’t go to sleep tonight with this failure hanging over our heads. “You must remind me,” I insisted, pushing so hard Mrs. Robinson’s dress traveled high enough for her panties to peek through. “Hold it up,” I commanded, bunching the dress into her hands, but it was also a desperate plea, and she knew it.



I stared at her panties, sitting like a shallow boomerang that dipped from its wings near Mrs. Robinson’s hips to meet in the middle, a slightly thicker section covering the magic center of life that I had only glimpsed until now. I remembered it’s warmth as it pressed down upon me the night before and the power it held to bring forth my seed.

“Allen.”



“Shhhhhh.”



As if resigned, Mrs. Robinson settled back against the counter, lifting the dress even higher. I inhaled gently so she wouldn’t hear and rebuke me for being gross. I wanted to sense her in every way, sight, smell…touch. I leaned forward.



“Allen!” Mrs. Robinson’s cried, alarmed.



Too late. I fell into the sexy, chocolate brown panties, nose first, my hands tightening behind her thighs to counteract the anticipated thrust to dislodge me. It came, mashing her pussy into my face.



“Allen!”



I moved my nose from side to side. “Mmmmmmm.”



Her hands clutched my head, my hair, pulling, trying to push my face away, but her effort was futile. My arms tightened and I opened my mouth to plant a puffy-lipped kiss squarely on the front of her panties.



“Allen,” she cried, her voice weaker.



I opened my mouth wide and tried to cover her mound with my mouth but only succeeded in skidding my lips across the silky panties. Mrs. Robinson expelled a loud sigh. I closed my mouth a little and thrust my tongue out to execute a well-placed, long lap up the front of the panties. Keeping my tongue pressed against the panties, I shoved it down and returned but this time with the tip crooked stiffly inward, finding and following the intriguing groove I had first witnessed an eon ago.



“Oh, Allen,” Mrs. Robinson sighed.



I let the dress go but pushed my hands up underneath, finding and molding her ass, pulling it forward to increase the pressure of her pussy on my tongue.



“Allen.”



I wiggled my head, producing a burst of short sighs, then licked like I was eating that ice cream cone the first day. Her fingertips curled in and clutched my scalp hard. I licked faster, slipping my tongue underneath where the panties widened and digging it upwards, finding and following a wider trench which opened as the panties soaked into her skin.



“Oh, God. Allen, oh Allen.”



I released my tight grip on her ass, found the waist of the panties, and started dragging them down. I expected a protest but none came, not until the legs were lower than my mouth and the wet material began separating stickily from the charms it covered.



“No. Allen, oh no.”



She tried to close her legs but my knees prevented her.



“Yes,” I mumbled into her muff.



The panties snapped downward and my mouth was upon her bare, wet pussy, my tongue thrusting easily through her slick groove, then finding and sinking into her sacred hole. Her fingers almost crushed my skull but they were pulling inward rather than trying to push me away. I stiffened my tongue and shoved it deep into the hole, into her cunt, so hard I could feel my head lifting her up onto her toes. I retreated, retrieving my tongue, and lapped her pussy like the happiest Labrador in the world, forcing a series of uncontrolled ‘uhs’ and ‘ohs’ from Mrs. Robinson’s sexy mouth.



I don’t know why it took me so long to think of it but when I finally slipped my longest finger into her hole and began plunging it in an out in a regular rhythm, the tenor or Mrs. Robinson’s voice began a steady rise, rising higher and higher in concert with more and more frantic gasps for air. When I thought she was as close as she could get, I yanked my finger out and replaced it with my tongue, shoving my mouth up hard in an effort to get it as deep as possible and shook my head, guessing that would feel good but not really knowing whether it would or not.



Mrs. Robinson liked it.



“Ohhhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhhhh,” she gasped louder than before as her thighs scissored on my around my head and her hands yanked it deeper into her pussy.



My face was suddenly awash and her sighs subsided as the muscles in her legs relaxed enough that they didn’t feel like they were about to break. She sank down until her toes douched the floor for the first time in minutes, followed by her heels, but she was unable to hold her weight and I was forced to hold her up until her thighs stopped quivering.



I pushed the panties, which were hung up around her ankles, off her feet and stood up. The dress fell into place and if you had just walked into the kitchen, you might have thought Mrs. Robinson had simply been on a vigorous run. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing still irregular but her eyes shone. There was none of the recrimination or anger that I had expected. I made a production of pushing her panties into my pocket.



“These will get me through,” I said, turning away.



“Allen, wait!”



I turned back. Mrs. Robinson grabbed a tea towel and held it up to my face. Delicately, she dabbed at my chin and rubbed down my cheeks.



“There. Get a ticket for me. I want to come too.”



“Again?” I laughed, immediately regretting my crude joke, but she laughed.



“Away with you. I don’t know why men always get so cocky afterwards.”



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



I could hardly keep still during dinner. Who would have thought it would be so easy. Earlier this same afternoon, I couldn’t even get there and yet, just over an hour later, I walked right up to the man and ordered three tickets for the baseball game on Saturday. After that, I had the balls to saunter over to a refreshment booth and order an Orange Julius, then sat on one of the mall benches and casually sipped at it until it was gone, reliving my successful penetration of the mall and wondering why in the world it had seemed so difficult. In the retelling, as I casually sauntered into the mall, I wasn’t walking stiffly and clutching the panties in my pocket, like I was even now. But hey, history is always rewritten to look grander than it really was.



The tickets were burning a hole in my pocket. Mr. Robinson knew something was up. How could he not? My excitement was particularly well hidden. It was Mrs. Robinson who couldn’t hold back anymore.



“Allen went on another adventure to the mall today.”



“Oh, yes,” Mr. Robinson responded, looking from her to me, awaiting further explanation.



I remained silent.



“Yes. He went right down to the bottom floor, deep into the bowels of the mall.”



“Ahhh. What was so important that you had to venture so far, Allen?”



“Show him,” Mrs. Robinson interjected excitedly.



I tugged the tickets out of my pocket. Thankfully they weren’t in the same one as the panties. “These,” I stated casually, tossing them onto the table in front of Mr. Robinson’s plate.



He looked at them, twisting his head to line up so he could read. Then he simply stared.



“Baseball? You bought…baseball tickets.”



Mr. Robinson’s face lit up.



“Are you sure, Allen?” He looked at his wife. “That’s wonderful, but is he ready?”



“He’s right here.”



Mr. Robinson looked at me.



“Are you sure you’re up to it, Allen?”



“Yes, of course. Mrs. Robinson says I am, so I must be.”



“Well… that’s marvelous, that’s…awesome! We’ll go to a game!”



Mr. Robinson stood up and his fork clattered onto his plate and bounced onto the table. He leaned forward, grasped my right hand and Mrs. Robinson’s left, and pulled us both up to our feet.



“We’re going to the game. Here’s to the game!” he shouted.



“To the game,” we yelled, then sat down at the same time, laughing.



There was no leg show that evening but I didn’t care. In a way, I felt it would ruin the new spirit in the house by leaving Mr. Robinson out. We all watched a movie together and talked about it during the commercials. It was a great evening and I felt like a real part of a wonderful family. Gary was a lucky guy. I wondered what it would be like to be in a real family where a son and his parents could get along so well. I wished Mr. Robinson knew about what had transpired between me and Mrs. Robinson, and was okay with it. I imagined Gary sitting in my place and being the one with the special relationship with his mother. Would his father condone it? Could they live together sharing this beautiful woman? Could they live with me in that knowledge?



That night, while I waited hopefully for Mrs. Robinson’s nightly visit, I imagined myself with my parents. What if they hadn’t been killed? Could we live like that? Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine it. The problem was disturbing. I couldn’t visualize either of my parents. Their forms were vague, even when I pictured myself doing to my mother what I’d done to Mrs. Robinson that afternoon, I couldn’t see her face or hear her voice clearly. What was wrong with me? They hadn’t died that long ago. Was I still so traumatized that I couldn’t even see them? Had I been in the crash?



I shook my head, tossing the thoughts of my parents out of my mind. Instantly, it was filled with a stark image I had seen the first time I had entered the mall in the afternoon but only now remembered. It was a woman, sitting on a bench at the far end of the side hallway that led to the public washrooms. She was breast-feeding her child but the scene was wrong. A baby rested in a carriage beside her. The mother seemed embarrassed and she looked away as soon as she caught sight of me approaching. Her face was hidden but she couldn’t hide the fact that the child she was breast-feeding was at least four years old, if not more. She was ashamed, I could see that, but why did it disturb me so much?



She was coming, walking sexily toward me though I knew she wasn’t trying to be sexy. The disturbing mall scene melted away.



“Hello, Allen,” she said. She put her knee on the bed but didn’t lie down on top of me as she now usually did. “Mr. Robinson is very pleased. I told him I was going downstairs to make some tea and he asked me to thank you again if you were still awake.”



“That’s very kind of him,” I said.



“Yes, it is but, more importantly, I think he’s too excited to go to sleep.”



“You mean, you can’t stay long?”



“That’s right, but you deserve a reward for your bravery today.”



Mrs. Robinson put her knees on the bed, one on each side of me, but kept herself lifted up on outstretched arms. Her breasts hung down and pressed so hard against the flimsy material of her nightgown that her nipples were clearly evident. It made me think of the woman in the mall breast-feeding her four year old son. Before I could think, my mouth went into action.



“I saw a woman in the mall breast-feeding her child today” I blurted out.



“Oh,” Mrs. Robinson seemed amused. “What made you think of that, Allen?”



She shifted her weight from one arm to the other, making her breasts sway from side to side.



“It wasn’t her baby,” I said.



“Of course it was. I’m sure she wasn’t breast-feeding someone else’s baby.”



“No. I mean she had a baby in a carriage but she was breast-feeding an older child, her son.”



Mrs. Robinson looked startled, and suddenly uncomfortable.



“How old?” she asked.



“I don’t know. Four, maybe older.”



“Did that bother you?”



“I guess so.”



“Why? Did your mother breast-feed you when you were older?”



I hadn’t thought of that. A weird feeling overcame me but no memories popped into my head.



“Maybe. I don’t know.”



“Do you think it was wrong of the woman to comfort her son?”



“I don’t know. I guess, maybe.”



“It’s never wrong for a mother to comfort her son, Allen.” Mrs. Robinson’s voice was firm, filled with conviction.



“I guess not.”



Mrs. Robinson lifted her left hand, holding herself up with only her right. Deftly, she slipped a finger under the bodice of her nightgown and pushed it aside, freeing her left breast which immediately dangled lower, bouncing with the sexiest motion I had ever witnessed.



“Here, Allen. Try to imagine how comforting it might be for her son.”



On that note, Mrs. Robinson lowered herself until her nipple nudged my lips. Though dry, they opened readily and let her stiff nipple poke into my mouth. The feelings that hard nipple stirred within me was incredible. I lifted my head from the bed, straining to get as much of Mrs. Robinson’s tit into my mouth as I could as she released a low, throaty, I-told-you-so chuckle. Her hand curled under my neck to hold my head tight to her breast and she arched her back to feed me more of her tit. My hand slipped inside her nightgown and closed over her other breast.



“Do you like it?” she hissed.



I nodded and mumbled enthusiastically around her tit.



“Can you remember, Allen, what it was like to suck your mother’s tits?”



I shook my head full of tit. The throaty laughed rolled forth again.



“I bet you loved it. I bet you sucked your mom’s tits as long as you could, long after you were a baby.”



I shook my head but her words somehow ringed true. Had my mother breast-fed me after I was a baby? Had I harassed her for a tit whenever I was anxious? I’m sure the woman’s little boy pressured her for a tit because he saw her feeding the baby but I didn’t have a younger brother or sister like that woman, so why would I do that? Why would my mother let me? Already, in my mind, I was accepting it as true. Somehow, I knew I had, but how did Mrs. Robinson know. She and my mother weren’t close friends but they must have know each other. Had they confided? Had Mrs. Robinson let Gary breast-feed far longer that the norm, like my mother? The thought of it made me so fucking horny.



I pulled away. “I love sucking your tits, Mommy,” I cried, then buried my face in them.



Mrs. Robinson grasped my head in both hands and rubbed her tits across my face, feeding one nipple into my mouth and then the other. My hands slipped around her waist and then up onto her ass. Clutching my hands, I bunched her nightgown higher and higher. I wanted another pair of panties.



“Oh, Mommy,” I cried, whenever my mouth cleared for a breath.



Mrs. Robinson went wild whenever I said it, grinding her pussy onto my cock. We were both getting carried away. I hoped she wasn’t aware of it as I was because I didn’t want it to stop. The nightgown was up. I pulled it over her bum and slid my hands over her almost naked cheeks. Almost? They were completely naked. I couldn’t feel any panties!



I pushed my hands together until my fingers met in the crack of Mrs. Robinson’s ass. I kept one there while I explored downward, the heel of my fingertips sliding over her little asshole and beyond, finding and slipping through a very hot and wet pussy. Plunging a finger into her cunt from behind, I lowered my other hand, index finger seeking, finding, then probing into the treasure the other had passed over. I nudged into it, listened to Mrs. Robinson’s grunting appreciation, then shoved a second finger into her cunt.



My hips were churning underneath her and only her flexing knees kept Mrs. Robinson positioned atop my throbbing cock. The thought of my cock made me aware of its desperate need. I withdrew my fingers from Mrs. Robinson’s cunt and slipped my hand underneath her left hip. On the next upward withdrawal of her pelvis, I deftly slipped in and, grabbing my shorts, yanked them down, freeing my frantic cock.



“Oh, God, Allen. No,” Mrs. Robinson cried upon feeling my bare cock on her tummy.



Still, she didn’t try to get off and on the next upward withdrawal of her hips, I angled my cock up. Mrs. Robinson landed above it and it skidded along her pussy lips. Immediately, she clamped her legs around it. I returned my hand, reaching over the back of her thighs to find and explore her soaking wet lips. Mrs. Robinson continued grinding her mound on my pelvis, her thighs squeezing my cock. Obviously, she was okay with our bare genitals rubbing together. We would rub ourselves until we both came.



But I wanted more than that. I kept meeting Mrs. Robinson’s downward grinds with upward, twisting thrusts of my own, my sex sounds matching hers with increasing intensity and abandonment, but I didn’t try to get inside her and I think that’s why she let her guard down. It was only later, when it felt like she was starting to get there, reaching the place of not return, that I quickly grasped my cock between her legs and shoved forward, discovering her entrance with a blind man’s luck.



Oh, heaven of heavens. What a feeling. So exquisite, so overwhelming. So new and yet so familiar. Mrs. Robinson protested with a loud groan but, if anything, she welcomed me inside her with such a vigorous clutch I don’t think I could have pulled out if I wanted to.



“Nooooo,” she wailed, but when I started in for my second thrust her muscles grabbed me and lifted my cock, so hard my hips rose off the bed.



“Noooooo,” she cried, following me down, her hips flexing quickly as she threw half a dozen mini thrusts at my next invasion and a half dozen more on the way down.



“Fuck me, oh Jesus, fuck me,” she whimpered as I countered with my own rapid series of hard upward thrusts, our bodies slapping together.



I circled her waist to hold her while I fucked hard and fast, delighting in the way I threw her body all around. She was gone, in her own world, swinging wildly above me like a rag doll. I was losing control. Who was I kidding? I had already lost control, heaving my body up mightily, as if I was trying to fuck right through her. I felt as if I had been reborn, that I had lived before and fucked this same woman, my favorite woman in the world, of all my former lives. This one, this woman, was the best!



I grabbed her hair and tugged as gently as I could, tilting her head back. She moaned in abandonment, looking for all the world like a wild animal. I loved it. She loved it. We came.



We must have laid there for ten minutes without saying a word. The first five minutes, neither of us could have spared the breath to speak but the last five must have been out of reverence for what had just happened. I had no regrets and I sensed she had none either. Maybe, we just didn’t want to part, didn’t want to end our first time. She felt so fucking wonderful, even now, sweating on top of me, her hair a mess in my face, the odor of our sex wafting over us.



“Whew,” I finally spoke.



“Whew,” she agreed.



“That was incredible,” I gasped.



“You shouldn’t call me Mommy.”



“I called you Mommy?”



“Yes, you shouldn’t.”



“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”



“Don’t worry about that. It’s just that it makes me go wild.”



“Oh. I didn’t notice.”



Mrs. Robinson laughed loudly. “Uh huh.”



“Can I call you Mommy again?”



“At your peril, but I prefer Mom.”



“I like living dangerously.”



“I know. It makes you hot to call me that doesn’t it?”



“Yes,” I admitted. “I don’t know why. Mom,” I added.



“Forget it,” Mrs. Robinson said. “There’s no repeats, not tonight, anyway.”



“Mom,” I cried plaintively.



“Whining won’t do it,” she said.



“Mom,” I said more forcefully.



“Don’t wear it out.”



I took her advice and remained mum.



Mrs. Robinson got up and tugged the nightgown down her legs, then pulled the lapels over her breasts, making sure each was properly covered.



“I know why you like calling me Mom,” she said, then quickly turned and walked rapidly away.



“Why?” I called, but she didn’t answer. She was gone.



Why had she said that? Why had she known that my mother had breast-fed me past babyhood? I mean, she could have just seen my mother doing it, but I had the feeling she knew more than that. If my mother confided in each her, hat implied Mrs. Robinson must have breast-fed Gary too.



So what it mean when she said she knew why I liked calling her Mom? Did Mrs. Robinson know something else about my mother and me? Is that why it made her go wild when I called her Mom?



My God, had she had sex with her own son? No, no, that couldn’t be. Or could it? No, she couldn’t have actually done it with Gary, but maybe she fantasized about it. Maybe that was why he seemed unhappy about my presence at first, thinking her fetish, if he knew about it, could actually lead into something with someone other than their son. But then he seemed so happy about me getting better, and anyway, I wasn’t a very good-looking guy. I was pretty geeky-looking. Surely, I wasn’t a real threat?

I fell asleep wondering about many things and had some very weird dreams.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



It was game day. I had slept in. At first, I thought about rushing upstairs to see if calling Mrs. Robinson ‘mom’ would instigate another session like last night but then realized it was Saturday and we wouldn’t be alone. I forgot all about golf.



Lazing around, I twiddled with my dick, thinking about Mrs. Robinson and, more hazily, possible liaisons with my unremembered mother, until I had to get up to take a leak. While I was pissing, I remembered that Mr. Robinson liked to golf on Saturdays. I yanked on some shorts and half ran upstairs.



Mrs. Robinson’s wasn’t there, an absence that was distinctly disappointing. I rubbed my cock and opened the fridge. I was hungry. I was almost finished my second bowl of cereal when the door opened.



“Hello, I’m home.”



She breezed into the kitchen, carrying a bunch of bags and deposited them on the table, then turned toward the kitchen counter where I was sitting with a spoonful of cereal, dripping milk back into the bowl, halfway to my mouth.



“Ta da,” she exclaimed. “Do you like it?” she asked, twirling around.



I looked her up and down. You betcha I did, but I guess she meant the new sporty blouse and skirt she was wearing.



“Yeah, it looks great…Mom.”



“Allen, don’t start.”



“I was just kidding. Your new outfit looks really good on you, but what wouldn’t.”



“Oh, you flatterer. Wouldn’t you rather have pancakes? I was hoping to get home earlier.”



“Nope. Cereal’s okay.”



“Are you sure. It will only take a minute.”



Why was I saying no when she wanted to do something for me?



“Okay, that would be great.”



Mrs. Robinson bustled around the kitchen, getting pancake mix, milk and eggs, then a frying pan and a bowl. I watched as she mixed it up, enjoying her sporty outfit with its short, pleated skirt and tight t-shirt. She put the mix onto the counter to let it sit for a while.



“I’m kind of hungry myself,” she said, lifting herself up onto a stool beside me.



I looked down at her almost completely bare legs.



“Are you ready for the game, Allen?”



“I think so,” I replied, not bothering to look up even though I knew it was rude. My morning hardon hadn’t quite worn off.



“There will be lots of people. It can be a little overwhelming but I’ll be there, and Mr. Robinson too,” she assured me.



She patted me on the leg and I patted hers in response.



“You have to wait until after the game, sweetie.”



“Even if I call you Mom?” I half-joked.



“Yes, even then,” she answered, but I noted a sharp intake of breath.



“Okay, Mom. Are the pancakes ready to cook yet?”



“Let’s see.” Mrs. Robinson slid off her stool and went to check the bowl. “I don’t mind you calling me that, Allen, but not when Mr. Robinson is around.”



“Okay,” I agreed, slipping off my own stool and standing behind her while she looked at the bowl of pancake mix, which was starting to blister.



“It looks like it’s a little early yet,” Mrs. Robinson said.



I put my hands on her hips and nuzzled her the nape of her neck.



“That’s okay, I’m not in a hurry,” I said, my right hand sliding down over her buttock.



“Allen, you must wait.”



She pulled away but I followed her into the counter.



Twisting away, she said, “I think we can eat this now.”



I sat on the stool again and acted like a good boy while Mrs. Robinson cooked the pancakes. I made no further suggestions but managed to sprinkle a few Mom’s into our conversation while we ate. When we finished, I followed her to the sink to put my dishes on top of hers. I pressed against her.



“Allen, we really have to wait. Mr. Robinson will be home from golf soon.”



“I know,” I whispered close to her ear, my hands encircling her waist and rubbing along the swell of her breasts, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go to the game like this.”



“Like what,” Mrs. Robinson leaned forward to get away from me which only pushed her bum into me.



“Like this,” I hissed, bulging my cock firmly into her ass. “I think Mr. Robinson will be angry if he sees me like this and I can’t control it. “You’ve got to help me.”



“How?” Mrs. Robinson’s head bounced as I rubbed hard against her ass. “There isn’t time to…do it.”



“Could you, you know, do like I did to you before I went to get the tickets?”



Mrs. Robinson froze, then pushed herself up straight. I loosened my arms to let her turn around. She was blushing.



“You mean, you want me to…suck you?”



Those words spilling from her mouth almost made me come in my pants.



“Yeah,” I said, already pushing my shorts down.



“But Allen, I can’t…”



“I need something. You’re got to do something before Mr. Robinson gets home.”



I shoved my shorts down far enough that my cock sprung forth, fully armed.



Mrs. Robinson looked at it and the look in her face made me proud. I may be a geek, but I was a well-armed geek.



“Please, Mom,” I whispered, putting my hands on her shoulders and pressing gently down.



Mrs. Robinson was reluctant but I could see growing acceptance forming on her face.



“Please, Mom. I really need it.”



She bent over and I stepped back, my hands slipping up from her shoulders to gently cup her face, guiding her down. Oh, God. Her lips skidded over my helmet, her tongue tickled underneath my glans, licked, and then her mouth enveloped my head slid down my shaft.



“Oh, Mom. Oh God. Mom,” I cried.



She was pulling up already, then sinking down, pushing farther. Fuck, it was so fine, so very, very fine. Up again, her tongue swirling around my tip, her lips squeezing, then sliding down, gripping. Her fingers appeared out of nowhere, one circling my root with forefinger and thumb while the other started tickling my balls.



“Suck it, Mom, suck it,” I groaned.



She sank to her knees but her head didn’t miss a beat as it bobbed up and down. I lifted her hair and smoothed it back over her head so I could try to see her face. Mrs. Robinson looked up at me and smiled, holding my eyes for a few bobs before returning to her task. I wasn’t going to last long, maybe a dozen or so strokes, if that.



Mr. Robinson’s car squealed into the driveway.



“Shit!” Mrs. Robinson cried, yanking her head off my cock.



“It’s alright, it’s alright,” I yelled. “He always puts his clubs away in the garage. You can finish,” I cried, desperately trying to pull her mouth back onto me.



“Please, Mom,” I pleaded.



Mrs. Robinson let me pull her mouth back onto my cock. She closed her lips firmly around it and started bobbing again but I was now frantic to finish. I grasped her head tighter bent my knees, pulling her lower before thrusting in and out of her mouth. She loosened her lips and opened her mouth wide, keeping her head still, instinctively knowing that I was almost there and it was better to simply let me fuck her face. The sound of my cock wetly sliding in and out of her mouth sent me over the top. I exploded. She gagged and swallowed. I burst again, another gag and swallow, then I held in deep, squirting the rest of my spunk into Mrs. Robinson’s throat, trying to empty myself before her husband came in the door.



Please, oh please, don’t forget to put your clubs away.



I heard the clubs clatter as the bag was pulled out of the car. The trunk slammed and the clubs rattled as Mr. Robinson carried them into the garage. I had time. I kept hold of Mrs. Robinson’s head with one hand as I slowly fucked away the remnants of my orgasm, holding her hair back with the other so I could look at her gorgeous face with my cock sliding in and out of her mouth. She hadn’t spilled a drop.



I stumbled sideways as I tried to pull my shorts up and barely stayed upright until I hit the wall with a bang. Mrs. Robinson, despite knowing her husband’s arrival was imminent, burst out laughing. I didn’t find my predicament so funny and ran down the stairs just as the front door opened. I stopped at the bottom to listen, in case I needed to run farther away.



“Ready for the game?” Mr. Robinson yelled.



“We don’t have to leave for an hour,” Mrs. Robinson complained.



“I know, I know, but the traffic might be heavy. Where’s Allen?”



“I don’t know. He must be downstairs. No, you go up and get a shower and I’ll find him.”



I heard a loud kiss as Mr. Robinson kissed his wife. I hoped I was right and she hadn’t spilled any of my spunk. I couldn’t imagine a woman kissing her husband and not smelling the scent of another woman on his lips but I guess us guys aren’t so clever.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



The game was fantastic. We drank cheap, stale beer and ate crappy hot dogs but it was up there with the best meals I had ever cooked. I made a point to whip up a special meal for my new ‘parents’. Mr. Robinson was ecstatic and drank too much beer. He even finished mine when I admitted I couldn’t finish it. We drove home in a merry mood; our team had won. Mr. Robinson rode in the back, singing some old songs from his college days. Mrs. Robinson looked in the mirror whenever he fell silent and smiled. The first few times she looked, he burst into song anew, but as we neared home, the silence was more permanent.



I stretched out my hand toward Mrs. Robinson and she took it. When we pulled into the driveway, I turned to wake Mr. Robinson but found him sitting up, looking between us straight out the front window. I had no idea how long he’s been awake and was worried because Mrs. Robinson still held my hand. She only let go to put the gearshift in Park.



We got out and walked to the door. Mr. Robinson slapped me on the back.



“Thanks for the game, son.”



“Thank you and Mrs. Robinson for giving me the courage to get the tickets, and paying for them,” I replied.



Mrs. Robinson opened the door, stepped inside the house, and waited for us to come in. Mr. Robinson walked past the closets in the entranceway with his shoes still on and went up the stairs to the main floor.



“I think I’ll head straight for bed,” he said, “but don’t let me stop you two from celebrating.



Mrs. Robinson and I watched him walk unsteadily up the stairs. I peeled my jacket off and she kicked off her shoes one at a time. Mrs. Robinson turned to look at me as soon as her husband disappeared. She removed her cardigan sweater and I admired the way her breasts pushed out as each arm pulled out of the sweater. I took a deep breath and brushed my eyes over her entire body, lingering on her legs and that sexy, short pleated skirt.



“Thank you, Allen. He had a great time, better than he’s had for years.”



“You’re welcome. I did too.”



“Are you hungry?”



“No.”



I looked upstairs. The air was heavy with unfulfilled expectation. Mrs. Robinson followed my gaze.



“I bet he’s asleep already.”



“Do you think so?”



“I do, Mom.”



“The light is still on.”



“He’s gone,” I said.



“I hope so, Mrs. Robinson said.



She turned her head away from the stairs and walked into the living room but stopped beside the small couch to the right that I usually sat in. She got onto it with her knees, facing the back, and turned to look at me.



“Don’t you want me?” she asked.



I was there in two steps, kneeling behind her. She wouldn’t let me nudge her knees apart so I straddled hers. I wasn’t capable of finesse and both of us knew it. I shoved my shorts down for the second time that day and grabbed my cock with my right hand. My left hand flipped the skirt up onto Mrs. Robinson’s back and then skidded her panties onto her left cheek. The tip of my cock was already bumping behind her, searching for her entrance. I had been aware of her sitting beside me all night and I was more than ready, too ready.



“Oh Allen, so much foreplay,” she chuckled but she arched her back and pushed her bum back to help her pussy find my cock.



I slid my hands inside her t-shirt and grasped her tits just as her pussy began squeezing down my shaft. With her knees together like this, she was tight. I got all the way in, slid out part way and pushed back in twice more, then started stroking steadily in and out.



“Oh, you naughty boy, fucking your mommy when Daddy’s sleeping upstairs,” she cooed.



It sounded childish but it still made me even hornier than I already was. I grabbed her by the shoulders and started heaving into her with gusto.



“Yeah,” I cried. “You haven’t seen nothing yet. Take this,” I grunted, “and this,” I gasped, lunging hard.



Mrs. Robinson was shoved into the wall and her head slid up and down it a few inches.



“Are you okay?” I asked.



“Give it to me,” she cried.



So I did. I fucked her hard and didn’t slow down even when my thighs slapped loudly against the back of hers. It was rough and desperate. I pulled her away from the wall and twisted her length-ways on the couch, quickly crawling behind her without losing her pussy. She bent right over, her face falling into the couch and I crouched over her, pumping my cock wildly in her hole. Her elbows were tight by her sides and I realized she was hanging on, waiting for my release. Had she come already or had she lost it because of my roughness? The thought of her being finished, and possibly wanting to quit, spurred me on. I lunged deeper and deeper and she cried out. Before the sound died away, I found my release and grabbed her sides as my leg muscles clenched hard with each gushing deposit.



Finished, I stretched over Mrs. Robinson and followed her down as she stretched out and settled onto the couch. I was surprised to find her still dressed. I was wearing my shirt too but had lost my shorts. I nuzzled her neck for a couple of minutes and tried to kiss her.



“Get off me you big oaf,” she said.



I rose up enough to let her twist around, then settled between her legs, holding my weight off her by resting on my elbows.



“That was a little rushed,” she said.



“I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.”



“Not tonight, you won’t.”



“But Mr. Robinson is fast asleep,” I protested.



“Yes, and in a few minutes, I will be too.”



“Aww, Mom.”



“That won’t work anymore tonight, little boy.”



She laughed and shoved me off. By the time I managed to get off the floor, she was halfway up the stairs. That night, just before I fell asleep, I wondered about what she’d said the night before, ‘I know why you like to call me Mom.’ I had to find out why. Maybe I could coax it out of her if I took more time and got her really horny. Anyway, I wanted to be with her for longer. Doing it quick was okay if you were desperate but I wanted more.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



The next morning Mr. Robinson and I were sitting at the table eating breakfast while Mrs. Robinson sat at the counter making up a shopping list. The counters in the Robinson kitchen were L-shaped and there were three stools situation around the bottom of the ‘L’, two on the far side and one on the end. Mrs. Robinson sat on the stool off the end. She asked us if there was anything we wanted that she might have forgotten. Mr. Robinson rattled his newspaper, indicating he didn’t want to be bothered so Mrs. Robinson called me over to help when I finished my cereal. I put my bowl in the sink and sauntered over to lean against the counter where she was sitting.



“Anything you want that’s not on the list?” Mrs. Robinson asked, her bare foot bumping the front of my leg just below the knee.



I craned my neck sideways and read the list as her toes scratched the inside of my leg.



“Nope, don’t see anything?”



“Are you sure. Look closer,” Mrs. Robinson said, tapping the list with the eraser end of her pencil.



I leaned closer to review the list again. I was down maybe two or three items when she tapped the front of my shorts with the pencil, right on my pecker, which immediately started to swell. I thought it was a mistake until she tapped my cock again, this time leaving the pencil engaged with my shorts.



“Let’s see,” she said. “We’ve got wieners,…”



She applied pressure to the pencil and rubbed it down the length of my shaft which felt absolutely fantastic because, by chance, the tip was facing up so the pencil scraped along the more sensitive underside.



“…and bananas,



My cock continued growing as Mrs. Robinson’s toes dug into my leg and the pencil rubbed harder up and down my shaft. I looked around to see if Mr. Robinson was still reading the newspaper.



“Pay attention,” Mrs. Robinson snapped, painfully flicking the underside of my cock.



I swiveled my head about and looked at the list.



“Do you like zucchini?” she asked.



I groaned, for Mrs. Robinson pressed the pencil firmly against my cock and scraped it down, then pointed it in to slip it between my legs and brought it up to rub my balls.



“Do you, Allen? Do you like zucchini?” she repeated, returning up my shaft.



“Yes,” I lied, not wanting to say anything to upset her.



“How about cucumbers?”



The eraser found that sensitive part on the underside of my glans, then rotated and wiggled, sapping the strength from my legs.



“I thought you might like cucumbers,” Mrs. Robinson said, pushing the pencil in exquisitely hard and looking up at me with a mischievous smile.



“Yes,” I replied. “I do, very much.”



“So do I,” she gushed, turning the pencil sideways again and rubbing it rapidly up and down my cock.



I stared at the list for the next two minutes while Mrs. Robinson continued rubbing the underside of my cock through my shorts with the pencil. I leaned on the counter with my hands to help keep myself up. I looked at her a couple of times. She was looking up at me with that pesky smile and steamy eyes. She pouted and blew me a kiss, delighting in my discomfort at nearing orgasm with her husband sitting right behind me.



Suddenly, she pulled the pencil away and I nearly gasped at the loss. Dropping it on the counter, she replaced it with her hand, cupping around my shaft and squeezing hard, then softening her grip and rubbing, then squeezing hard again. Less than a minute later, I came, soaking the front of my shorts. Mrs. Robinson released me and picked up the pencil.



“Okay, it looks like we’re finished. How about you dear?”



The paper rattled as I presume Mr. Robinson lowered it to look at his wife. My spine stiffened and the hair on the back of my neck bristled.



“Hmmmm?”



“Anything you want me to get at the grocery store?”



“No, can’t think of anything.”



The paper rattled again. I stepped around Mrs. Robinson and made my way to the stairs.



Later that day, Mrs. Robinson was sitting on the same stool in the kitchen, while I was waiting near the door for Mr. Robinson to come downstairs so we could to check on his boat.



“Come here for a minute, Allen,” she called.



As I approached her she looked down at my shorts which made me remember the morning’s exercise with the list and caused me to get excited all over again. Just a look from her made me hard.



“I see you’re changed your shorts,” she said.



“Yes. I, uh…had an accident this morning.”



“Did you?” Mrs. Robinson seemed quite amused.



“What kind of accident?” She reached out and snagged my shorts by the waistband.



“It was nothing,” I said.



“Nothing? I don’t believe that.”



Mrs. Robinson pulled me to her and, holding my shorts out at the waistband with one hand, deftly undid my zipper with the other. My cock was free and in her hand before I could say lickety-split.



“Mrs. Robinson, I…”



“Mom,” she corrected me.



“Mom, I…uh, Mr. Robinson is right upstairs.”



“We’re going out to visit some friends tonight, so I won’t be able to see you tonight.”



My objections melted away, unlike my cock which had hardened proudly in her hands. Mrs. Robinson ducked and my cock was engulfed in her wet, warm mouth. Immediately, she began bobbing her head. My hand curled around her hair, lifting it so I could see her face. What the hell. I started flexing my hips to help her take it deep. A couple of minutes later, fearing I wouldn’t be able to finish before Mr. Robinson came downstairs, I grasped her head and began seriously pumping in and out of her mouth. Not much later, Mrs. Robinson accepted my seed within her, accommodating me with ease. She zipped me up and patted my chest.

“I expect to hear that Mr. Robinson’s afternoon was every bit as good as your morning.”



“You will if I have anything to do with it.”



“Don’t disappoint me, Allen.”



“I won’t. I hope I never will.”



“I know you do,” she smiled.



Mr. Robinson steps sounded on the stairs.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



The next morning I awoke to the sound of muffled voices. I looked around but I was alone. Staring at the ceiling, I located the source of the voices. They were coming from the heat vent. I stood up on the bed to listen. The vent had been closed for the summer. I opened it and the voices became clearer.



“You came to bed much sooner that I thought. Did you not feel like teasing him?”



“He wasn’t in the mood.”



“Joan, don’t give me that.”



“Okay, I wasn’t in the mood. I was tired and afraid he might get out of control. He looked pretty horny and he was expecting something, maybe too much.”



“I warned you.”



“Yadda, yadda, yadda.”



“I’m just saying, you lost control before with Gary and look what happened. I know it worked for a while but sooner or later, if you dangle an ice cream cone in front of a kid, he’s going to want to lick it.”



“He would have been alright if you hadn’t freaked out.”



“No Joan, you went too far and he couldn’t handle it.”



“But look how much he improved. Maybe if I’d gone further, he would have been completely cured.”



“Jesus Christ, Joan. He’s our son!”



“I know, but I was helping him, more than all those doctors, anyway.”



“Yes, yes, you were helping him with the one hand and screwing him up with the other. You took it too far and he couldn’t handle it.”



“He was fine until you had your little tantrum.”



“Okay, maybe that sent him over the cliff but you drove him right to the edge.”



“He would have been fine. I was already weaning him off.”



“You were too late. If you’d kept it within reasonable boundaries, you might have been able to keep control, but you enjoyed it too much and you let it get away from you. It wasn’t Gary’s fault, he’s just a kid. You lost him for us.”



Holy Christ! Mrs. Robinson had been fooling around with Gary and Mr. Robinson knew about it. No wonder he was pissed about me staying with them. But why had he relented? Why did he seem so happy with my presence now?



“I did not enjoy it! I did what I did to help our son after we tried everything else.”



“Joan, what you’ve accomplished with Gary was a miracle. I’ll admit that your ‘method’ worked incredibly well, until that day. In retrospect, it was worth it to get Gary back for the little time we had him but, please, be careful this time. Don’t go so far.”



“Okay,” Mrs. Robinson said. “I’ll keep things under control this time. I’ll just let him kiss me and feel me up at bit, and maybe let him see me in the nude.”



“Well, as long as you can ‘wean’ him off, as you say.”



“That’s what I was about to do if you’d stop interfering.”



“Okay, okay. Let’s not fight anymore.”



“Fine. I’ll start weaning Gary off.”



“You mean Allen,” Mr. Robinson said.



“Yes, of course, Allen.”



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



I made sure the bed didn’t creak when I sat down. Holy shit. Mrs. Robinson had fooled around with Gary and Mr. Robinson knew his wife was teasing me but had no idea how far it had gone, giving me a blow job and fuck twice. I knew she wasn’t going to ‘wean’ me off no matter what she said to him. She liked it, I could tell. She had probably liked fooling around with her son and now she was doing it with his friend. When Mr. Robinson left, I was going upstairs to have some fun with Mrs. Robinson, no question about it. Shit, my cock was hard already. I rubbed it. I could hardly wait. Come on, Mr. Robinson, leave already.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



The front door couldn’t have been closed more than ten seconds before I went upstairs. Mrs. Robinson wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room, and I couldn’t see her outside. As I started up the stairs, I heard Mr. Robinson’s car back out of the driveway and speed away. I smiled and rubbed my cock through my shorts.



“Mrs. Robinson?” I called. No answer.



“Mrs. Robinson?”



I pushed her bedroom door open and peeked inside. She was standing in front of her mirror, holding a dress up in front of her, but she was completely naked. I walked toward her but stopped when she looked up at me through the mirror.



“Allen, just who I wanted to see.”



She twirled around, holding the dress against the front of her body.



“What do you think? Do you like it?”



“Yeah, I like it a lot.”



“So do I. In fact, I love it but I’m not sure I can wear it.”



“Why not.”



“Because it’s too sexy. Don’t you think it’s sexy?”



“Yeah, on you. It’s real sexy.”



“See, that’s the problem.”



“Why?”



Mrs. Robinson ignored my question.



“Why?” I repeated.



“Why, Mom,” she said.



My cock twitched and lengthened.



“Why, Mom?” Another twitch.



“Did you hear Mr. Robinson and me arguing?”



“Yeah,” I admitted, but I didn’t want to talk about it. Here comes the ‘I have to wean you off bit’, I thought.



“Well, he thinks I’ve been flirting with you too much.”



“Oh.”



“What do you think?”



“Well, I…uh, I like Mr. Robinson.”



She made a cute, endearing face, then stretched one foot out to the side, baring her hip, and looked down the length of her leg.



“Oh, sorry. Yes, I know you like Mr. Robinson. So do I.” She giggled. “But what do you think about me flirting with you?”



Flirting? Was she kidding? What were we talking about here. We had been fucking and she was talking about whether or not we should be flirting?



“Well, I guess, if he doesn’t like it, maybe we shouldn’t.”



“But, do you like it?”



“Yeah, I like it.”



“So do I.” Mrs. Robinson brought her foot in and stretched the other one out, baring that hip and leg all the way down. “It’s up to you, I guess.”



“Um…well…if he doesn’t know about it…”



“Are you saying I shouldn’t tease you on the couch when Mr. Robinson is home?”



“Yeah, I guess not.”



“But, if he’s not home, it’s ok?”



Was this a trap? If so, I couldn’t see it.



“Yeah, if he isn’t home then I guess it won’t bother him.”



“That’s what I was thinking too.”



Mrs. Robinson giggled and fluffed her hair with one hand, messing it up but making her look wild and sexy. She turned around to look at the dress she held in front of her with her other hand, presenting me with her naked behind.



“So you like it, Allen? You think it’s sexy?”



I looked Mrs. Robinson up and down, pausing at the swells of her tits peeking out at her sides and the flare of her hips as they jutted out to form her ass. The back of her thighs showed the slightest sprinkle of cellulite but it was quite minor.



“Would you do me a favor, Allen?” she asked in a very cute voice, her eyes glancing sideways through the mirror in a coquettish manner.



“Yeah, sure,” I answered, my swelling tongue making it difficult to speak.



“Would you put my pillows in the middle of the bed for me?”



“What?”



“You mean, pardon me, Mom?”



“Ah, yeah. Pardon me, Mom?”



“Pile two of the pillows up on the bed for me.”



I piled one pillow on top of another like she asked.



“No silly. Put them in the middle.”



I dragged the pillows into the middle of the bed.



“That’s good,” she said, turning back to the mirror. She examined herself critically for about twenty seconds. “That’s too bad. I really like this dress. Mean old Mr. Robinson.”



Mrs. Robinson tossed the dress to the floor and, for the first time, I saw her in all her stark beauty. She padded over to the bed, pressed her knees onto the edge, and threw herself across the pillows. With her tummy perfectly centered, her ass was prominently presented.



I stared, unsure of what to do despite the firm resolve I had carried up the stairs.



Mrs. Robinson spread her legs.



“Mr. Robinson isn’t here,” she squeaked.



Nothing stirred in the room for a few seconds while I digested her meaning. Woodenly, but with increasing speed, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and tossed it away, then shoved my shorts down and off. I approached the bed tentatively, as ridiculous as that was, given the situation, with my hard cock wavering about erratically. My knees bumped against the edge and Mrs. Robinson’s legs spread wide, pulling her pussy apart so the pink slit showed and parting her cheeks enough to reveal a tiny, darker hole above them. Cunt or ass? Was it my choice? I thought not, since her anus was dry, unlike her glistening lower lips.



I clambered up on the bed.



“Allen?”



“Yeah,” I responded, grasping my cock and lining it up with her pussy.



“If you’re going to call me Mom, do you mind if I call you Gary?”



Really? This was getting really kinky.



It had seemed strange when she asked me to call her Mom. At first, I had thought she was just trying tom make me feel at home and then suspected that she thought I had had a thing for my mother, but her wanting me to call her Gary was confirmation that she had a thing for her son and missed it. What the hell, it made me harder, if that was possible.



“Yeah, sure, Mom. Call me Gary.”



A strange excitement percolated through me and I almost giggled with delight. This was going to be fun.



“Ohhhh, Gary. What do you want? Tell Mommy.”



Mrs. Robinson reached back and pulled her cheeks apart. The little hole widened into a dime-sized oval.



Holy shit! The choice was now real. I had seen anal sex on the internet. Hell, before having Mrs. Robinson, all of two times, I had only seen fucking on the internet too. Could I fuck her in the ass without any lube?



I nudged the tip of my cock against her pink wetness. As soon as it made contact, it was sucked inside, enveloping the head within a delicious, wet and warm cocoon. Oh, my fucking God! I loved this feeling. How could being in her ass be any better? I shoved myself home, pulled out slowly, and penetrated her again.



Mrs. Robinson kept her ass spread through the next dozen thrusts and I began to query my own conclusion. If she kept her ass spread, even while I was fucking her, she must want it there. Or, was she surprised by my decision and waiting for me to come to my senses? Did it really feel that good? Every time I pushed in and out, her butt hole winked at me, teasing me with its secret knowledge.



I pumped Mrs. Robinson another dozen or so times before my curiosity got the better of me. I pulled out, raised my cock an inch, and pushed it against the little hole but it skidded over it. Pulling back and holding it more carefully, I tried again but though it remained centered, it wouldn’t go in despite Mrs. Robinson pulling harder on her cheeks. All it did was bend painfully.



“Gary, put something on it,” Mrs. Robinson gasped.



How easily my name sprung to her lips, as if it was more natural than my own name. Obviously, having a cock behind her, trying to get into her ass, was something she more readily associated with her son than his friend. I resolved to change that in the future whenever Mr. Robinson wasn’t here, as she said. Neither was Gary, except in spirit, and through my cock.



I leaned close and drooled onto her puckered opening.



“No, Gary. The lube, the lube,” she gasped, wiggling her ass about in over-eager anticipation.



Briefly, her left hand flung out before returning to spread her cheeks. There, now uncovered by the pillow, was a translucent tube. Lube!



I grasped the tube, opened it, and squirted a healthy portion onto Mrs. Robinson’s ass. Too much, really. I spread it around and then scooped some up to rub on the tip of my cock and then squeezed it down my shaft. About to try entering her again, I paused, and pushed some of the extra I had spread out trying to scoop it up back onto her hole. I pushed it inside, sliding my finger all the way in.



“Ohhhhh, Gary. It’s been so long,” she sighed.



“Yeah, how long?” I asked, working my finger slowly in and out, surprised by how easily it slipped through her previously tight hole and also surprised that my finger wasn’t covered in shit. I really was a novice at this.



“Since you went away,” she sighed, obviously pleased with what I was doing.



I squeezed my index finger together with the longest one and pushed them both inside her ass.



“Ohhhh, yesss.”



I spent the next five minutes playing with Mrs. Robinson’s butt, sliding my fingers in and out, holding them out until she puckered for more, pushing in with surprising zeal and holding in hard while slowly twisting back and forth. She loved it all. Soon, and eagerness to feel my cock inside her overwhelmed my curiosity and playfulness. I was ready for serious action. From the sounds she made as I clambered up onto my feel and squatted over her, bending my cock down to line it up with her butthole, Mrs. Robinson was through with playing around too.



It went in way easier this time, penetrating rather than bending, but it was slow going in. she was tight, very tight, which surprised me given how easily my two fingers had been able to explore her dark cavern.



“Oh God, Gary. Easy. Easy.”



I held still, traumatized. I didn’t want to hurt her. A few seconds pass while her puckered lips clasped and released, clasped and released. She pushed back, taking more of my cock, but only a little. Man, she was tight. So tight, it hurt my cock a bit. I pushed some of the extra lube around the edge where her butt clasped my cock, trying to push it in, and also rubbed it up my shaft. She pushed back again, taking in some of the recently lubed shaft.



“Ahhhhh, Gary. So good, sooo good,” she sighed.



Forgetting myself, I pushed in, lurching ahead a full inch.



“Ahhhh God, yesss.”



I pushed in again, and then again. Once more and I was buried to the hilt. I stayed there, not knowing what to do, until she began pulling herself off my cock. I retreated, as slowly as I could. I stopped before coming out of her completely, unsure if I should, my memory of internet ass fucks failing to provide me with guidance. I started back in and she groaned, but it wasn’t in pain, at least not all of it. I tried to go in and stop but failed. Slipping head in steadily, Mrs. Robinson emitted a groan of pleasure such as I had never heard come from a woman, from her or on the internet. She really liked this, that was for sure.



I buried myself to the hilt again, paused for a briefer period, then withdrew, more quickly than before. Barely hesitating, I shoved back in.



“Unngghhhh,”



All the way, then out, and back.



“Unghhhhh.”



As I withdrew, Mrs. Robinson whimpered, “Only for you, Gary. Only for you.”



I pushed in vigorously.



“Unnnghhhhhh!”



After that, I started fucking her with more confidence, as if I were in her pussy. It was the same except she was still tighter and it felt more exciting, although I didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the sounds she emitted, low and guttural, almost animal-like.



I fucked her ass hard, then slow, then hard again, loving how her sounds changed but always sounded wild and abandoned, no matter what. At one point, I shoved her forward and squatted with my thighs straddling her ass, cock deeply embedded, and rocked into her ass, using my thigh muscles to burgeon my cock as thick as I could.



“Fuck it,” Mrs. Robinson cried.



“Take it,” I hissed. “Take it hard.”



She didn’t answer except with more ragged moans and groans. I don’t know why I suddenly became aggressive but it spun me up to new heights and I could barely contain my orgasm until it burst with explosive force. It felt like I pumped so much spend in her ass that my cock was forced out but it was Mrs. Robinson squeezing me out. I sat back on my haunches, cock flopping before me between her thighs, and watched as my jism oozed out of her ass onto her pussy. The sight made my cock stiffen and I lurched forward, grasping my slippery cock, and fed it inside her cunt. Quickly, I heaved off the rest of my renewed orgasm while Mrs. Robinson flopped helplessly beneath my assault. Her meek acceptance threw me over the edge again.



This time, when I pulled out, I spoke gruffly, “Gary wants it like that all the time.”



“I know,” she acknowledged with total acceptance.



- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -



Our relationship changed after that. Gone was the tentative Allen seeking reward for ever more adventurous excursions outdoors. I became more confident, even when Mr. Robinson was around. Going outside, anywhere, no longer bothered me. Whenever Mr. Robinson was gone, I fucked Mrs. Robinson. In the pussy, in the ass, whatever was my pleasure that day.



Truth be told, I preferred being in her pussy and even liked face-to-face better than from behind, which had been my preference before, probably because it was less like ass-fucking. I loved holding her behind the knees and shoving her legs way back, keeping her immobile, waiting for my pleasure. I learned to work her over leisurely like that, then pounding on her furiously, backing off to go slow for awhile, teasing her, then getting it on again. We loved fucking each other.



Mrs. Robinson started calling me Gary all the time which, at first, really freaked me out. We were having dinner, and Mr. Robinson was in the middle of passing me a bowl of potatoes when Mrs. Robinson said, “I’ll have that after you, Gary.”



Mr. Robinson froze, the bowl hovering in mid-air just out of my reach from my out-stretched hand. He looked at her but she seemed oblivious, as if nothing had happened. I stared at him, my eyes wide with growing fright. The bowl was suddenly in my hands.



“Pass those to your mother when you’re done, Gary,” he said, then busied himself cutting his meat.



After that Mrs. Robinson called me Gary with increasing frequency but similar reaction. Mr. Robinson started referring to me as Gary when he spoke to his wife and even called me that directly a few times.



I celebrated by taking Mrs. Robinson for a quickie from behind several times when Mr. Robinson was in the house. The first time, I caught her by surprise, passing by her in the upstairs hallway. Suddenly, I caught her by the shoulders and turned her into the wall. By the time she protested, I had yanked her skirt up and was already feeding my unlimbered cock between her legs, skidding her panties aside. It was a quick, huffing and puffing affair. The next time, she was ready. When I cornered her in the hallway, she turned to the wall and lifted her skirt. She wasn’t wearing panties.



That’s when I started down another path, one which, thankfully, didn’t last too long. However, it went too far and I’ve always felt bad about it.



Watching internet porn for ideas, I got an urge to come in Mrs. Robinson’s face. By this time, she was in the habit of giving me a blowjob on days when she and I couldn’t get some time by ourselves for a nice fuck. It was always a neat affair, even when we were rushed. Mrs. Robinson always knew when I was about to unload and always seemed able to take it all, never spilling a drop.



But on this one day, Mrs. Robinson was down on her knees, taking me deep. I had pushed her forehead back and was feeding it into her mouth, slowly, trying to get in as far as I could. I had been doing this the last few times and really got off on making her gag a bit because it made her mouth fill with oozy saliva. Don’t ask me why that made me so horny, I don’t have the answer, but it did.



Well, I had plunged my cock into her really deep and she almost coughed it out, sputtering spit all over. When I pulled my cock away, a long, sticky string of gooey saliva stretched across the gulf separating her chin and my cock. For some reason, this looked incredibly erotic to me and I let go, surprising myself and Mrs. Robinson.



My spunk splashed across her face, covering her chin and nose, then again, spurting across her right cheek and eye, even reaching to her hair. Mrs. Robinson flinched and tried to pull away but my fingers tightened in her hair, holding her still, while I stretched up on my toes and pointed my cock down, releasing the rest of my load in several more youthful bursts until her face was covered.

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