Six months ago my father’s gambling put us so deep in the hole, we finally lost the house. Jason and I had been friends since we were kids. I was at his house more often than not because mine was a train wreck. His mother, Lindsay, was always there for me—for breakfast, lunch or dinner, or even a place to spend the night. Now when I had nowhere else to live, she offered me her spare room, the room she always let me use growing up.
Lindsay was one of those moms who looked good no matter what she wore—T-shirts and shorts in summer, turtlenecks and leggings in winter.
She and Jason’s father got divorced when we were in high school. While Jason went away to college on a scholarship, I managed to get enough financial aid to attend a local school. So it made perfect sense for me to move into Jason’s house. Lindsay said she could use help around the house and would love the company.
The first week I found so much to do, with school, my part-time job and odd jobs around the house, that I didn’t have to worry about being alone with Lindsay. She cooked every day, so we ate dinner together. I’d hooked up with a couple of girls, but avoided anything long-term. I never brought girls home, though Lindsay assured me she would respect my privacy if I did.
It wasn’t as if Lindsay didn’t have admirers. Everyone knew Jason’s father wasn’t around, and guys were always stopping by to ask if she needed help around the house. I tried to get to the door first to get rid of them. Then I noticed that if Lindsay answered the door, she always politely turned them down.
After about a month, it seemed as if we went from fall to winter overnight. With fewer outdoor chores, I spent more time inside with Lindsay.
We watched movies together in the living room. At first I sat on the floor. Then she insisted that it was too drafty and I should sit on the couch—next to her. Awkward? Hell, yeah. I took to wearing baggy hoodies because I got a hard-on from sitting next to her.
When the nights grew colder, Lindsay brought out a down comforter that we shared. The good thing was that it gave me better coverage.
Sometimes I was so hard, I wanted to stroke my dick. I did a few times when Lindsay dozed off.
One day we had a freak snowstorm, and then the temperature dropped into the teens. Using Lindsay’s snowblower I had the walk cleared in no time. When I came in, I noticed I could see my breath in the house! Lindsay was on the phone talking to the oil company about the furnace, but with most roads still unplowed, they didn’t think they could get anyone out that day.
We plugged the heaters in, and Lindsay made plenty of hot chocolate. After dinner we moved the heaters to the living room to watch a movie.
When we sat on the couch, Lindsay snuggled up against me to keep warm. It made sense to share body heat, and I loved having my arm around her, but being in such close proximity made my dick so hard, it hurt.
Then, even if I hadn’t had the balls to admit it to myself, the thing that I wanted to happen most happened. Lindsay had been dozing, her head nodding against my shoulder. With no warning she slid down to get more comfortable and laid her head in my lap—right on top of my dick. I stopped breathing, hoping she was really asleep and wouldn’t notice the lump of hard meat in her face. I didn’t think she did, at first. But when she shifted again and brought her hand up to cushion her cheek, placing it on my dick, I let out a shuddering breath.
Lindsay inhaled suddenly and froze. I knew she was awake, and waited for her to jump up. But she didn’t. Her hand moved over my dick, and I moved my hand over her breast, squeezing lightly. She moaned and rubbed my fingers over her hard nipple. I was dazed, but lucid enough to realize that all of my fantasies might be on the verge of coming true!
I turned Lindsay’s face toward me and kissed her. I slipped my arm under her and lifted her sweatshirt. She arched her back, and I feasted on her full breasts, moving from one to the other. While I sucked and nibbled, I slid my hand down her pants. She had what felt like a narrow landing strip of hair that tapered away into silky-smooth skin. I slid my fingers between her pussy lips and was surprised by the amount of wetness. She was hot and ready—ready enough to take my dick.
Lindsay whimpered and writhed impatiently as I penetrated her with two fingers. I asked, “Does that feel good? Just tell me what you want. I want to make you feel good.” This had to be all about her. I would do whatever it took to make sure that she had no regrets later.
“Feels fine,” she moaned. “Just—do it harder, please!”
I pumped my fingers in and out a few times, then added a third finger, shoving them harder and harder while she humped my fingers and twisted her hips. When I leaned down to kiss her, she shouted and came all over my fingers. I licked them clean—sorry I hadn’t used my mouth on her.
At the time, I thought it best to keep her right where she was—on her back. I was afraid that if I had her change positions, she might also change her mind. But now that we’d gone this far, I felt confident that she would let me fuck her.
“Thank you, Scott,” she said. “I guess I needed that more than I knew.” She stretched sensuously like a cat in my lap. “But what about you?” she said, turning toward me and stroking my aching hard-on through my sweatpants. I pushed it against her hand and closed my eyes, hoping maybe for a blowjob. I just worried that if she put her mouth on it, I’d go off like a rocket.
Lindsay pulled my pants down, and my dick sprang free. She was about to put me in her mouth. I stopped her, saying, “If you do that, I’ll come, and I want to be inside you when I do. I want to fuck you.”
“Then do it, Scott,” she said. “Make me scream.” She moved onto her back and shimmied out of her pants. I did the same, feeling the chill in the air. I meant to work up enough of a sweat that we wouldn’t have to worry about feeling cold.
I moved between Lindsay’s legs and rubbed my dickhead back and forth along her slit, mixing our fluids. My fingers were wet with them too, and I brought them up to her lips. She sucked on them while I pushed into her wet heat. She moaned. She felt like heaven around my dick.
I kept telling myself easy does it, slow strokes, make it last. I pushed her legs up and told her to hold them tight to her. Then I withdrew partway before pushing back in till I was balls-deep. I did this over and over, both of us moaning and grunting each time. I held out as long as I could, but in spite of myself picked up the pace. Lindsay started to babble a steady stream of encouragement. I drilled into her harder than I’d ever fucked a girl. She loved it.
Then I had an idea. I wanted to see her beautiful ass. I climbed off her, over her protests, and had her bend over the back of the couch. She reached back for my dick and pointed it at her entrance. I appreciated her beautiful firm butt, then grabbed onto her hair and slammed in her pussy.
“Ohmygod, Scott!” she shouted. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d slapped her right cheek. She went wild and started talking up a blue streak again, telling me to ride her hard and spank her ass. So I spanked and fucked and spanked and fucked till we were both dripping with sweat.
When her muscles seized around my dick, I exploded, pumping her full of my cream. We fell over the back onto the couch, and I pulled the comforter over us. Now that we’d stopped moving, we both felt the chill, and the need to snuggle was imperative.
I ended up moving into Lindsay’s bedroom, and we fuck every chance we get. We just have to figure out what to do when Jason comes home for the summer. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
—S.T., Buffalo, New York