says now, smiling as if embarrassed for a moment. But she quickly regains her composure. “I’m rarely home on Friday nights, but I’m feeling a bit under the weather, so I thought I’d just stay in and watch a movie with a warm glass of brandy.”
“Sounds great,” I say, walking over to the seating area where there is a large blue couch, a wooden coffee table that’s painted black, and two green leather recliners at each side of the couch. The TV is on with the volume muted. It is some movie with Gwyneth Paltrow, I think.
I stand in the middle of the carpet, staring at the TV for a moment, then looking around the room. I am not sure what my next move is. I can’t read her body language clearly, and it never occurred to me that she’d be alarmed when I showed up, worried that something terrible had happened. Maybe that threw off the mood a bit.
Still, I am here now, and there is no turning back. This is happening, one way or the other. The prize goes to the one that’s bold, I tell myself as I turn around and smile at her.
Beth Carson is standing at the entryway, a solitary lightbulb behind her throwing shadows that highlight her sharp features, dark hair, and wonderfully curved figure. I want her to drop that robe, to start unbuttoning her silk pajama top, to undo the string on her thin, delicate pants. I want to see those heavy, full breasts under that yellow light, I want to smell her wet, juicy cunt in the air.
“Can I get you something, Richie?” she says. The words come out slowly, like perhaps she understands why I am here but is nonetheless still trying to process it.
Certainly there must be a lot going through her mind, I think as I stare at her in the dim yellow light. It’s one thing for her to want to fuck a guy twenty years younger than her, and it’s another thing when the guy is your daughter’s lover. If this happens, it could hurt a lot of people. It could destroy Mindy’s relationship with her mother, perhaps even her sister. It would certainly kill our relationship. Who knows what other ripple effects would occur? What if our friends and neighbors found out? My parents? This is a small town, and it could be a shitstorm of rumor and judgment if this happens and people find out. Is it worth it? Is it worth risking so much just to get a chance to kiss those lips, suck on those tits, fuck that slit?
Well, isn’t that what makes it so wonderfully arousing? I tell myself. That we’re risking so much for filthy, physical pleasure?
Fuck yes, I decide as I take one more look at the outline of her tits, the shape of her hips, the contours of her lips. Fuck yes, it’s worth it!
7
“I ’ll have what you’re having,” I say to her in response to her question. “Brandy sounds good.”
She smiles and walks past me to the bar at the far end of the room. When she gets there, she looks at me over her shoulder, her smile turning me on almost as much as watching her ass move beneath her robe as she sauntered across the room.
“Aren’t you underage?” she says to me even as she pours out a healthy drink of the golden-brown brandy. She turns and stands there at the bar, holding the glass out.
“Trust me,” I say as I walk briskly towards her. “I am very much of age.”
She laughs now, spontaneously, and I think my comment has done away with some lingering tension in the room. She hasn’t asked me anything about why I’m here when college is in session, why I’m standing here in her living room on a Friday night, when my girlfriend, her daughter, is hundreds of miles away, oblivious to what’s about to happen in her childhood home.
No, Beth Carson hasn’t asked me a thing. She isn’t stupid. And neither is she blind—certainly the outline of my cock is clearly visible against the front of my jeans. I am not fully hard, but I am certainly aroused, and my shorts are already getting soaked with precum. I am so hot for this woman that I scare myself for a second, and I take a quick
“Sounds great,” I say, walking over to the seating area where there is a large blue couch, a wooden coffee table that’s painted black, and two green leather recliners at each side of the couch. The TV is on with the volume muted. It is some movie with Gwyneth Paltrow, I think.
I stand in the middle of the carpet, staring at the TV for a moment, then looking around the room. I am not sure what my next move is. I can’t read her body language clearly, and it never occurred to me that she’d be alarmed when I showed up, worried that something terrible had happened. Maybe that threw off the mood a bit.
Still, I am here now, and there is no turning back. This is happening, one way or the other. The prize goes to the one that’s bold, I tell myself as I turn around and smile at her.
Beth Carson is standing at the entryway, a solitary lightbulb behind her throwing shadows that highlight her sharp features, dark hair, and wonderfully curved figure. I want her to drop that robe, to start unbuttoning her silk pajama top, to undo the string on her thin, delicate pants. I want to see those heavy, full breasts under that yellow light, I want to smell her wet, juicy cunt in the air.
“Can I get you something, Richie?” she says. The words come out slowly, like perhaps she understands why I am here but is nonetheless still trying to process it.
Certainly there must be a lot going through her mind, I think as I stare at her in the dim yellow light. It’s one thing for her to want to fuck a guy twenty years younger than her, and it’s another thing when the guy is your daughter’s lover. If this happens, it could hurt a lot of people. It could destroy Mindy’s relationship with her mother, perhaps even her sister. It would certainly kill our relationship. Who knows what other ripple effects would occur? What if our friends and neighbors found out? My parents? This is a small town, and it could be a shitstorm of rumor and judgment if this happens and people find out. Is it worth it? Is it worth risking so much just to get a chance to kiss those lips, suck on those tits, fuck that slit?
Well, isn’t that what makes it so wonderfully arousing? I tell myself. That we’re risking so much for filthy, physical pleasure?
Fuck yes, I decide as I take one more look at the outline of her tits, the shape of her hips, the contours of her lips. Fuck yes, it’s worth it!
7
“I ’ll have what you’re having,” I say to her in response to her question. “Brandy sounds good.”
She smiles and walks past me to the bar at the far end of the room. When she gets there, she looks at me over her shoulder, her smile turning me on almost as much as watching her ass move beneath her robe as she sauntered across the room.
“Aren’t you underage?” she says to me even as she pours out a healthy drink of the golden-brown brandy. She turns and stands there at the bar, holding the glass out.
“Trust me,” I say as I walk briskly towards her. “I am very much of age.”
She laughs now, spontaneously, and I think my comment has done away with some lingering tension in the room. She hasn’t asked me anything about why I’m here when college is in session, why I’m standing here in her living room on a Friday night, when my girlfriend, her daughter, is hundreds of miles away, oblivious to what’s about to happen in her childhood home.
No, Beth Carson hasn’t asked me a thing. She isn’t stupid. And neither is she blind—certainly the outline of my cock is clearly visible against the front of my jeans. I am not fully hard, but I am certainly aroused, and my shorts are already getting soaked with precum. I am so hot for this woman that I scare myself for a second, and I take a quick
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