by fittucker87 12/12/08
Car after car sped by me and as my ankle continued to throb, I prayed that a familiar face might notice me, have pity and give me a ride home. It was at that moment that a black Lexus SUV eased past me then braked to a stop at the curb. I didn't recognize it, but walked to the passenger side window as it rolled down.
"Hey Mark! Need a ride?"
And there she was the second place finisher to Nancy Taylor in my self-abuse fantasy file, my best friend Spencer's mom and our next door neighbor, Mrs. Kay Reynolds.
The Reynolds had moved in next door to us when Spencer and I were in the sixth grade, right about the time girls had moved from the icky column to the interesting column for me. So it was no wonder that Mrs. Reynolds had cum, err come to hold such a significant place of interest for me. She was drop dead gorgeous, with mid-length curly brownish red hair and a time less "girl next door" creamy complexion that she obviously spent a lot of time and her husband's money keeping up. She was probably 5'4" or so, maybe 110 lbs, with violet blue eyes. She looked like she was coming back from the gym, as her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. A low cut "wife beater" tee strained to hold in her bountiful chest. In one of my few brave moments, I had taken a chance and rifled through her lingerie drawer. I knew for a fact she was sporting a nice pair of 32DDs.
(Author's note: Ok, I acknowledge that all the women are busty. I get it. My story, my fantasy)
I was not surprised to see that her nipples were threatening to cut through the fabric. Somehow Mrs. Reynolds nipples were always hard, not sometimes, always. I chalked it up to her libido, which to hear Spencer talk, was insatiable. Even though she was his mom, Spencer acknowledged that she was the walking epitome of a MILF. For years he had regaled me with stories of listening to his parents fuck almost every night in their bedroom next to his. Or walking into the den to find his mom getting quickly off her knees while his father clutched a couch cushion to his lap and pretending to be enthralled by another "Seinfeld" re-run. And then there was the memorable time she served Spencer breakfast while something that looked suspiciously like a blob of cum clung to her nightgown.
I chalked all the stories up to bullshit guy talk until our sophomore year when a camping trip got rained out and we went back to Spencer's house to sleep. Something woke me up and I took the opportunity to go piss. As I passed his parents room, I heard the unmistakable grunts and moans of two people fucking. Being a normal teen, that is to say perpetually horny, I couldn't help but press my ear to the door. As the earlier parts of this story demonstrate, I'm somewhat clumsy and managed to stumble and push the door half open! Luckily, Spencer's dad, Bob, had his head thrown back in pleasure as he pistoned his hips back and forth behind his wife, who was on all fours, while he stood behind her. She was oriented on the bed facing me, and luckily again, she also had her eyes squeezed shut while her body shook from the pounding she was receiving. Despite the danger of discovery, I knew I'd never get a better chance at seeing Mrs. Reynolds nude than right now. The bottom of her two-piece nightie was pulled to the side, giving Mr. Reynolds access and her top was pulled down and bunched around her waist allowing her 32DD boobs to sway and bounce in perfect time with his strokes. I was mesmerized! Her natural tits swung low and full, but I could tell they were still as firm as any teenagers since they didn't flop like I'd seen in some of the "mature" videos on the net (guilty!). As I stood there, drinking in this forbidden sight, some kind of sixth Bat-sense made me pull my eyes up to Mrs. Reynolds' face.
She was looking right at me!!
Like a deer caught in the head lights of an approaching car, I froze in place, waiting for the inevitable scream, followed by the ass-kicking by her husband, not to mention the disowning by my best-friend and then the surefire "perverted voyeur" label that would haunt me the rest of my days.
Instead, she smiled! Then, not breaking our eye-lock, she rose up and entwined her hands behind her husband's head and pulled his mouth to her neck, as his hands came up from her ass to cup her breasts and support her upper body.
"Oh God! You love this don't you?!"
I felt like DeNiro in "Taxidriver", but had enough sense to not launch into a "You talkin' to me?" monologue. Mr. Reynolds only grunted, continuing to lick and suck her neck while pile-driving her pussy from behind.
"I can't get enough, baby," she moaned. "I might have to give in and let you bring that hot assistant of yours with the cute ass home, or better yet, talk you into getting a couple of your young, strong stock boys to pound me while you watch."
I couldn't take it any longer. My cock had found its way through the fly of my boxers to see what all the commotion was about. Another second there and I would have repainted their bedroom door in my custom mix of "Creamy Pearl". Thankfully (hopefully!), it was too dark in the hall for Mrs. Reynolds to see my condition. I spun around and fled to the bathroom across the hall. I stood shakily over the toilet and tried to point my crowbar hard cock down toward the bowl. In hindsight, I should have given myself a minute or two to calm down because no sooner had my hand touched my shaft than I started blasting like the 4th of July.
I stifled a groan by biting the knuckles of my left hand, while rubbing it out with my right. Out of fear of discovery, I had left the light off. As I hosed down the bathroom, I could only imagine what sort of mess I was making. I tried to track the splats of my load so I could clean up afterwards. After 5 or 6 toe curling spurts it was over. I stood there trying to catch my breath and wondering how to clean up the bathroom and get back to Spencer's room with no one but Mrs. Reynolds being the wiser that I was awake. I tore toilet paper off the roll and did the best I could of tracking down my volleys and sopping them up. I still could not get over the intensity of staring into her eyes while she was getting royally pounded by her husband. What did she mean by what she said? She must have been getting off by my watching her. Did I have the guts to take it to the next level?
Of course not.
After slipping back to Spencer's room and laying there wide awake for the rest of the night, I tried to act like nothing had happened the next day. Of course, Spencer and his dad were in the dark and Mrs. Reynolds continued to kid and joke with me like she always had. I didn't detect any double entendres' in her conversation, no, "More SAUSAGE with your breakfast Mark?", nor did she pull me into the laundry room for a quick grope. Maybe it was my imagination though, but she did linger over wiping the breakfast table, allowing me ample time to gape down her blouse at the sight of those firm knockers swaying with her efforts. And it seemed every time I turned around, she was dropping something on the floor which required her to bend over at the waist to pick it up. After going home, I spent the rest of the day in my room revisiting what I'd seen the night before and doing my best to rub a groove in my right palm. I looked like Peter Parker the first time he discovered his web shooting ability.
"Mark? Mark? Are you alright?"
I snapped back to present time reality and smiled sheepishly.
"Sorry Mrs. Reynolds. I, uh, think I twisted my ankle. Could you give me a ride home?"
She smiled brightly and reached over to open the door.
"Sure sweetie! Hop in. I was just on my way home from the gym."
I eased myself into the seat and shut the door as she pulled back into traffic. Since this was the first time this morning that I hadn't had a head swimming erection, I studiously examined everything in the car, except Mrs. Reynolds.
"Is this a new car Mrs. Reynolds?"
She smiled and rested her hand on the gear shift.
"It is Mark. What do you think?"
I continued to feign interest in the interior of the car, but suddenly became aware that her hand had moved from the gear shift and was resting on the mid console beside my leg. Out of the corner of my eye I couldn't help but notice the slight shifting and bounce of her tits as she drove. Yikes! I summoned all restraint I could, imagining chess matches, vacation slide shows and "Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day". Anything to keep from popping a boner in front of Mrs. Reynolds.
"So Mark...what's been up with you?"
Well, something was coming up Mrs. Reynolds, but I don't think it's what you want to talk about. I scrambled for something to say as she pulled into their driveway.
"Oh, nothing much. Just hanging out. What kind of engine does this thing have in it?" What?!? Where did that come from? I was definitely not a gear head being just intuitive enough to know how to fill a car up with gas.
She looked at me quizzically and said, "I'm not sure Mark. It's probably in the owner's manual. Here it is." With that she leaned over the console to open the glove box on my side, resting her right boob on my leg and brushing her curly locks against my face. Houston we have lift off! She had to feel my growing boner, no way around it! God I've done it now! One call from her to Mom and I'd find myself in therapy for the summer! But she didn't recoil back. She merely kept her position and turned her head to smile up at me.
"Are you sure you're interested in the engine Mark?"
I grabbed the door lever and prepared to make a bolt for my house. It was then I noticed that Mom's car was gone. Damn! She must have been taking Kim and Nancy somewhere. She always locked the house and I did not have a key on me.
"Uh, my mom's gone."
Mrs. Reynolds turned her head to look at our house.
"Well you need some ice on that ankle, stat Mister. Come inside the house. You can keep an old woman company while you wait on your mom to get back. Spencer spends most of the day doing God knows what around town since he came back from school."
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