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You want to know what happened? Alright. Just try not to interrupt. I need to concentrate.
I can remember like it was yesterday. It all started one fall morning when I was sitting at my computer writing.
“Thank you, young man,” Teresa said, twirling strands of her wavy blonde hair. She looked down at the young, muscular FedEx man, squirming out from under the kitchen sink. “It’s so kind of you to take a break out of your busy delivery schedule to help me. My husband never seems to be around. I want to give you something for your trouble, but I’m afraid I don’t have any cash in the house. Would it be alright if I gave you a blowjob?”
“Aargh,” I thought. “I need to stick to science fiction.” I was frustrated after struggling with a writer’s block for an entire week. And my decision to try my hand at erotica wasn’t working.
I picked up the binoculars again and impatiently looked out the window. “Damn, nothing yet,” I said.
My room, located directly over the front door of our house, was the perfect perch from which to spy on all the comings and goings along our street. I had inherited the bedroom Penny and her ex had converted into a home office. Add some high-powered binoculars, and I enjoyed the perfect spectator sport.
The house, two lots down, had consumed my attention from the moment I moved in with Penny. I had noted every weekday morning at ten o’clock a vehicle, from a variety of companies, parked in front of that house for thirty to sixty minutes. UPS, FedEx, Amazon, even a car with a Jimmy John’s sign on it. I usually had Penny and the kids, Zach, Jr., ten, and Angel, eight, off to work and school by that time. Penny is my sister. She had insisted I come to Portland, Oregon to live with her after her very painful divorce. Being an accomplished author, I lived the flexible schedule she needed to help her with the kids and household duties, while she concentrated on getting back to work after years of child rearing. I could have said no, but I never had been good at saying the word “no” to my older sister, or to women in general, for that matter.
Besides, weekdays I had the house completely to myself. I could write without anyone around to witness my ineptitude at doing housework. That is with the exception of one other family member, Judas. Judas was the lab retriever Penny had gained custody of in the divorce. He was always sneaking around looking for trouble. But I wasn’t worried about him talking.
At any rate, it was 10:15 and getting past time for another delivery down the street. I looked and looked. Still nothing.
Then the doorbell rang. I followed Judas down the stairs to answer the front door. We were presented with an attractive older woman who looked to be in her 50’s or 60’s. She had red hair with a few streaks of white that made her look kind of like Cruella DeVil. She also had piercing, hazel green eyes with a raised eyebrow that made conversation uneasy. A wrinkle or two gave her age away, but she was amazingly thin and fit. She was actually hot. Flirting with her hourglass figure was well practiced, like a woman familiar with promiscuous adventures. She stood before me shifting her weight to one side. One arm was resting across her abdomen. It was supporting the other with her fingers up in the air. And in place of holding Cruella’s smoking cigarette holder, she was dangling a Pyrex measuring cup.
Before either of us could speak, Judas buried his nose in the woman’s crotch. Focused on looking me over from head to toe, the woman wasn’t the least bit distracted by the dog. She just casually petted him on the head.
“Judas, cut that out!” I shouted. The dog ceased, leaving the woman’s crotch to rub his body along her leg. He obviously was familiar with her.
The woman said, “It’s ok, Sweetie. I just love gentlemen who know what they want.” She was attempting to speak in what sounded like the pretense of a southern drawl and talking at me like she was reading lines for a scene in a play. She said, “I’m looking for Zach. Wouldn’t happen to be here, would he?”
I scratched my head wondering what she would want with a ten-year-old. Then I deduced she was referring to his father, Zach, Sr. and said, “Oh, he’s not here anymore. He and Penny got divorced.”
“Oh really?” she exclaimed, “I hope that’s no reflection on lil’ ole me. So, who might you be?”
“I’m Jeannie’s brother,” I divulged.
Then she came back with, “Oh, my. I don’t remember Zach mentioning anything about a brother. But then, we didn’t really talk much. And I can’t say I mind there being a brother. No, definitely not,” she said, eyeing me up and down like she was evaluating a new dress she might want to get into. There was something about her that made me suspicious that wasn’t the first time she had seen me.
I said my name while offering to shake her hand, “Hi. I’m Will…Will Robinson.” She cracked up laughing. When she had adequately recovered, I asked for hers and what she found amusing, like I didn’t already know.
I said, “Yeah, güvenilir bahis I know. ‘Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!'” The scourge I had suffered all my life.
“No, sweetheart,” she said. “My name is Robinson, too! I’m Maureen Robinson. God, I hope we’re not related. That would spoil all the fun.” The flirtatious southern belle accent was actually starting to turn me on. “And don’t you dare call me Mrs. Robinson, Ma’am, Mother or any other such nonsense,” she instructed, “Maura will do quite nicely, Handsome. That’s how all my special friends refer to me.”
Just when I hoped she had sufficiently enjoyed herself at my expense, she surprised me again declaring she lived down the street and had spotted an extremely attractive young gentleman at my address that surely must be me. I squeamishly recognized her residence as the truck stop I had been secretly observing the previous couple weeks. I only prayed to god she wasn’t recognizing me looking through binoculars from my upstairs window. Speechless, I let her go on, informing me that she was widowed and available. After that I was too dumbfounded to speak. We stood in uncomfortable silence.
She was forced to speak again, “Well, Sugar, aren’t you going to invite me in? I think we must be starting to look conspicuous out here. What will the neighbors say?”
Before I could answer, Maura stuck her nose in the air walking right past me to confidently make her way directly down the hall to the kitchen, with Judas tagging along like a royal subject. What could I do but obediently follow?
In the kitchen the red headed invader looked at the cupboard that I knew contained the sugar. Then she made a quick move to turn and face me, striking a seductive pose against the kitchen counter. Judas, who was obviously enamored with this woman like no other female I had seen him with, jumped up on her. She firmly corrected him, “Judas. Sit!” He did so immediately and stayed. That was a new side of Judas I hadn’t been privileged to see.
As she regained her posture, both Maura and I recognized that her yoga pants had been pulled down slightly. She was exposing a nice sized patch of her furry bush. I tried to look away, but she caught me looking and locked her eyes on mine, unwilling to let me relent. I couldn’t help watching her run her thumbs inside and along the waist band of the thin material. She moved slowly, like she was auditioning for a role in a porn video, finally repositioning her pants upward to tuck the hair away.
By now I was informed of two things. She wasn’t wearing any panties. And she had left her house to borrow sugar from a neighbor without wearing a bra for her heavy chest. I couldn’t ignore the jiggle in her sports top or the prominent outline of her nipples. Her bosoms, while not the largest I’d seen, showed off that slim figure in a way that would have any man panting and wagging his tail. I thought, “I must really be overdue for sex to have an old lady get a rise out of me.” More uncomfortable silence followed in the kitchen.
Once again Mrs. Robinson orchestrated the conversation. “Well, young man. What do you have to say for yourself?”
All I could think of was that time in high school when Penny caught me in her closet peeping on her. She was stripping out of her clothes. She called me out and asked the same exact question. “Well, young man. What do you have to say for yourself?” Then my big sister ordered me to take my clothes off down to my jockey shorts. Without the slightest sign of flinching or protest she remained nude, casually touching up her makeup in her dresser mirror. There I stood, basically naked, with my arms crossed and my jockey shorts stretching to a side-angled boner. I was never more humiliated, waiting for Sister to turn and face me, calmly laying down the law.
“So, little brother,” she said, “I hope you’re getting an eyeful, because this is the last time you’re ever going to see me naked. And if you say anything to anybody, you’re dead. Got it? No more hiding like a little pervert.”
So, struck dumb by that memory, and seeing the old woman’s pussy, I realized I was standing with my arms crossed in the same juvenile posture. And, like Maura’s yoga pants, I was exposing a nice sized patch of my own, expanding along the front of my sweatpants. Like an idiot, I unintelligibly choked out, “Uhhh?”
“So, Sugar,” she said, “Would you like our first time to be here in the kitchen or would you be more comfortable in that magnificent king size bed upstairs?”
Once again I could hear my sister’s voice, “No fucking in the house, Will Robinson! I mean it! I don’t want the kids exposed to that.”
I cleared my throat and finally found the courage to speak more coherently, “My sister doesn’t want anything like that in the house because of the kids.”
Maura took a long look at me during an awkward silence, then spoke, that time without the camouflage of a southern accent. “Hmm…I see. I have to say I’m impressed with you, young Will Robinson. You’re a better man than that türkçe bahis whiney Zachary was.”
Having wrapped me up nicely in a cocoon of embarrassment, Spiderwoman helped herself to the cupboard and a cup of sugar, speaking as she walked by me to leave, “You don’t mind if I take a little do you, Sugar? You know, the neighbors. Why don’t you come over to my place one of these weekday mornings when you get bored. You know, my house is in need of lots of repairs. I bet a big, strong man like you is real good at fixing things. I make a fresh pot of coffee every morning at ten o’clock sharp. I’m sure your sister can’t have anything to say about that.”
I watched her sexy curves quietly sashay down the hallway and out the front door before taking the deepest breath of my life. I was in love.
Alright, I was horny. Anyway, I was chuckling, still hearing that endearing southern accent. I also had a new character reference to add to the resume of Penny’s ex-husband, Dr. Zachary Smith; cheater. I looked over at Judas now lying quietly in the same spot with his head on the floor between his paws. He looked up at me with those sad eyes faking an expression of guilt, betrayed by the wag in his tail. I said, “And what do you have to say for yourself?”
My mind was preoccupied until the next day. In place of doing dishes, I put in extra weightlifting sessions at the impromptu gym I had constructed in the garage. Instead of dusting and vacuuming, I manscaped hair off my body. I guess you know where I was the next morning at ten o’clock sharp.
Maureen Robinson greeted me at the door. At least I thought it was her. She was wearing a bathrobe and toweling her hair from the shower. The gray was gone. She had the warmest smile of friendly satisfaction and excitement on her face. Her southern accent was gone, too. I wasn’t certain I was at the right house. In spite of that, I started getting hard the moment I crossed her threshold.
Almost immediately after I entered, the doorbell rang again and Maura politely answered, “Oh. Hi, Ben. So sorry. No time for coffee this morning. I have company. Just leave the package on the porch…How did your daughter do on that test?”
Meanwhile, I meandered into the front room, tastefully decorated with antique furniture and several photos. I assumed they were pictures of children and grandchildren.
The front door resolved, the woman in the bathrobe rediscovered me. Assuming she was the Mrs. Robinson I had met the day before, I cordially accepted the invitation to follow her. Just out of the shower, without makeup, her smooth complexion actually looked younger. Her body left a scented trail of fresh flowers.
She led me into her kitchen and said, “I can pour you a cup of coffee, but I have a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, if you prefer.” She said she had been saving it for a special occasion. She was pleased when I chose the wine. She opened and poured two glasses. It probably would have been more courteous to accept the coffee, but I was nervous she might have spiked it. I still hadn’t gotten over the feeling of being irresistibly manipulated the day before.
We quietly sipped on the wine in silence, studying each other over the rims of our glasses. I was intrigued with her face, revealed without the enhancement of makeup. There was something unassuming and sensually appealing about it. She stared back at me probably as curious about me as I was about her. She must have sensed my anxiety. She broke the silence saying, “Relax, Sweetheart. You’re so nervous.”
I drank more wine wondering where the seductress with the southern accent had gone. Like Judas, I had been excitedly anticipating the opportunity to bury my nose in her pussy. However, ‘doing it’ with the “socially appropriate older woman” standing across the room felt like I was on the verge of having sex with my mother.
Then Mrs. Robinson crossed the kitchen floor toward me. She moved up close, facing me, taking the wine glass from my hand, setting it to the side. I was excited and terrified all at once. Alarms were going off in my head, “Danger, Will Robinson!” There I was, facing that pivotal moment when two people nervously move in close to risk sexual intimacy. I felt like we were acting out some scene from an old movie. I was the young graduate slowly drifting into the clutches of an older woman.
The loving mother started transforming into a hot cougar right before my eyes, looking at me with beady pupils that suddenly dilated into the hypnotic stare of a predator. There she was. The woman I had come to have sex with.
I hadn’t noticed earlier that she had been holding her terry cloth robe tightly closed with one hand. And now she had let go surrendering to gravity. The robe fell open down the front. The nipples of her large breasts, I had longed to see, were still hidden from me. However, I was offered a sneak preview of the large valley and rounded mounds on each side. Then downward, my eyes traveled to a full view of the curly pussy I had been thinking güvenilir bahis siteleri about ever since Judas molested it.
The fiery red hair looked fluffy and soft. She had to be a natural redhead.
She stood directly in front of me, flirtatiously running her pink tongue along her upper lip, making my penis grow another inch. She had a naughty grin on her face, too, verifying she knew exactly what I was seeing and thinking. I was admittedly falling under her spell. “Did she put something in the wine?” I thought.
Her eyes were inviting me to kiss her. She closed in, gently grasping and guiding my hands inside her robe to fondle her bosoms and soft bush. She was proving to me touching her could be just as alluring to a young man as the vision of any hot babe my age.
I watched her smooth pink lips drawing closer, changing shape to form words, “You’re so gorgeous, Sugar. I wonder if you taste as good as you look.”
Her body so close, her face so near, she was just about to kiss me. I swallowed and said, “You mentioned you have things…uh…something to repair?”
With a brief look of disappointment and one last tease of that sexy southern accent she said, “That’s right. I did, didn’t I, Sugar?”
To punish my hesitation, Maura pressed the fingernails of one hand firmly across the front of my shirt and down my arm to take me by the hand. I can’t tell you how desperately I would have preferred she unzip my pants. I was ready to let her go down on me right there in the kitchen. I could only hope I hadn’t spoiled my chances.
However, she had other plans that would keep my dick begging. She guided me a few steps to a door leading into a small pantry off the the kitchen.
As she opened the door, I found the sound deafening. The washer and dryer were both running, loudly. We stepped inside creating just enough room for her to close the door behind me. Our bodies were crammed together face to face. I would have normally been claustrophobic, but the manly presence in my slacks was hungering to get her out of that robe.
Our bodies pressed together, Maura stared into my eyes again and started unbuttoning my shirt one button at a time. She looked at me as if daring me to stop her. I could understand why she and Zackary, Sr. never spoke much. Her eyes were bewitching, relieving me of any desire to speak or resist her. That seductive glare combined with the ear shattering thrumming of loud machinery was cutting me off from the outside world. I was trapped, helpless, in her web. The only thing I could think about was the excitement of my pounding heartbeat and the throbbing appendage between my legs.
She helped me out of the shirt and, pressing her chest against me, carefully hung it on the back of the door behind me . If she had spoken, I probably would have been incapable of understanding her between the ear-shattering noise and my spinning head.
I had always prided myself on being the one in control with my lovers. I was accustomed to picking women my age who happily preferred I take the lead as long as I discovered and responded to their needs. Following Maureen Robinson’s lead, however, I felt powerless and dangerously vulnerable.
I staggered slightly as she firmly grabbed hold of my arms, turning me sideways and backward. She guided my hands to grip hold of the humming dryer behind me for support.
I closed my eyes stimulated by the warmth and vibration and somewhat embarrassed by the uncertainty of what would happen next. “Maybe she’s about to go down on me, after all?” I thought. I heard “Oooh” as I sensed the pads of her fingers lightly gliding across my hairless chest. I was certain my pecs and nipples were sticking out prominently. She was taking her time to indulge, exploring every inch of my bared torso and the firm muscles in my upper arms. My cock was fighting to be released.
Aroused, I still refused to open my eyes. I was incensed by the soft tuffet of pubic hair I could slightly detect scratching against my thin slacks, her leg escaping the robe to graze my thigh, her pelvis pressed into my groin. I would have opened my eyes to verify she had opened her robe to me, but I didn’t want to do anything to spoil the unexpected pleasure I felt.
It felt like she was practically crawling up on top of me as she forced me to lean back. I was enraptured by fingers joining a warm, wet tongue playing with my nipples licking, kissing, sucking. I was delightfully titillated by the sensation of small hardened nubs, which had to be her nipples, finally exposed, dancing across my chest, retreating to the larger paunchy flesh of a pair of amply sized bosoms.
I grabbed ahold of her robe-covered ass pulling her closer, supporting her with my strength to allow her better access and continued gratification. Pressed firmly against the engorged lump in my thin slacks, I assumed it was her wet labia that I felt soiling through them.
She took her time satiating but eventually got her fill. She had taken so long my erection was beginning to wane. She unlocked my arms and directed me to turn around and bend over the dryer. I was confused but intrigued. Mrs. Robinson was introducing me to a whole new kind of kinky. I had no clue of her plans to make me stiff again.
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