URL: http://web.archive.org/web/http://www.literotica.com/s/garys-mom
Author: alwayswantedto
Title: Gary's Mom
Tags: Gary's Mom, alwayswantedto, mother son sex, mother son incest, mother, mother-son, mom-son, anal, facial, seduction

Summary: Guy boards at friend's place while he's away at college.

All characters are 18 years or older.

This is the first story in a trilogy.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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.

Unhurriedly, I holstered my cock, looking down upon Mrs. Robinson and enjoying the
look of her subjugated before me. She didn't move, she didn't even try to wipe it
away, instead sitting quietly in front of me as if to enhance my pleasure. I looked
up and out the window to where Mr. Robinson was conversing with Mr. Jacobs from across
the street, as he'd been doing when Mrs. Robinson first went down on her knees and
took me into her mouth. I turned away and went to my room.

After that, I came in Mrs. Robinson's face every time she blew me. I became obsessed
with it, pulling out of her widespread legs and scrambling over her torso to unload
in her face. She never complained. She always took it though I was sure she didn't
really like it. All that did was make me want to do it even more. Why? I didn't think
about it much, but when I did I had no answer and quickly put it out of my mind. Usually
the thought of my disgusting behavior just made me want to do it again and I would
seek her out.

It got so bad that one Saturday morning, when Mr. Robinson was having his morning
shower before leaving to meet his golfing buddies, I crept carefully onto Mrs. Robinson's
bed, so as not to wake her, my throbbing cock in hand, well worked over and ready
to go, and released a full load into her sleeping face.

She yanked her head back, eyes sputtering open as she woke up, realizing what had
happened and groaning, flopping down on the bed. I clambered closer to her and squirted
the rest of my spend on her messy face, wringing my cock to squeeze out the last drop,
before climbing off the bed and making my escape.

I waited until the Mr. Robinson left the house but then immediately returned to the
scene of the crime. Mrs. Robinson was lying under the covers, completely covered,
head and all. I pulled the covers off. She was lying on her side, a pillow over her
head, and her legs tucked up so her knees were touching her chin. I got up behind
her and gently pulled the pillow off. There she was, in all her glory, still covered
in my cum. She had simply covered herself while her husband dressed, and laid there
with my cum all over her face!

I started breathing so fast I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I was actually
grunting as I pushed her right knee off her left and onto the bed, yanked her nightgown
up her back and shoved my cock into her cunt. Lurching and lunging, I brought myself
to the quickest orgasm I had ever experienced, fucking her as hard as I could. She
looked so fucking hot!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So what brought my demeaning behavior to an end, you ask? It was a simple trip to
the bedroom, later that same day.

I had flopped onto the bed after unloading inside Mrs. Robinson. She had got up and
showered and dressed, then left, saying she was going to make me breakfast. I got
up to follow some ten or fifteen minutes later, anguishing over how aggressive I had
become, but something made me turn left instead of right when I exited Mrs. Robinson's
bedroom.

I walked down the hall to Gary's old room where we had often played together as kids.
I opened the door, slipped inside, and closed it behind me. This place was sacrosanct.


I was in there for at least half an hour but Mrs. Robinson didn't call out to rouse
me for breakfast. I heard her come up the stairs and go into her room, heard her come
out, pause, come toward her son's room, then her footsteps retreated and she went
back downstairs. Not long after that, I went down for breakfast. She didn't say anything,
didn't ask me why I was in Gary's room. All she did was greet me with her typical
cheer.

"Good morning, Gary. What should we do today until Mr. Robinson gets back?"

"I don't know. What do you think Dad will want to do?"

That didn't surprise Mrs. Robinson. I had been calling Mr. Robinson that for a few
days. It had just slipped out and had caused even less of a reaction than Mrs. Robinson
calling me Gary so I kept doing it. After all, saying Mr. Robinson all the time was
awkward. I called them Mom and Dad now. It seemed like the right thing to do.

I never came in Mrs. Robinson's face again. Or, should I say Mom's? I learned how
to make love to her properly and I'm still doing it, almost every day. On Sundays,
Dad and I go out on the boat.

So here's the thing. In that room, I looked at Gary's things but it was the pictures
that interested me the most. Not his graduation picture, the one of him by himself.
No, it was the ones with his parents that got to me. There were lots, from the time
Gary was a little kid. I was so shocked, it took me a while to digest them. Why were
they shocking, you might ask?

The face in the pictures was me.

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Thanks for reading. Please vote (but only once) and consider leaving a comment.

The next story in the trilogy is "Voodoo Moms". The final entry is "Gary, My Son.


