Mrs. Robinson (Mrs. Robinson #1) (6 page)

An idea came to me, and I stared down at my wine. “Hey, this wine – it’s good, right?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m not really a wine person, like I said.”

“Well,” I explained, “it’s good because it’s aged – some things just get finer with age. Tell me, would you agree?”

He looked over at me, turning his glass in his hand, his eyes twinkling. “Sure I do. With older things, you can taste the…experience. They’ve been around the block once or twice and they know what they’re doing. The wine, I mean.”

I swallowed. “Good to hear.” And then: “You know, I guess I’m kind of good with my mouth, too. I can pick up on very…
subtle
tastes.”

He bit his lip. What was I saying? Was I turning into some desperate cougar, like I’d feared? And was this even how the kids talked these days? I couldn’t even turn on MTV without immediately becoming clueless due to all the weird, Internet-y slang the young people used. And not to mention the difference in morals. In my day, something as simple as Candice Bergen’s character on
Murphy Brown
becoming a single unwed mother on television had become a national conversation, while today, JLo and Miley and whoever else twerked all over the place and nobody batted an eyelash extension. Had I come a generation too late to even know
how
to be slutty?

I studied Ben to gauge whether I sounded sexy, or like a deranged, past-her-prime lunatic.

“Good to know,” he finally grinned, making me slump with relief. “I’d like to try that talent out sometime, perhaps.”

“Do you…do you drink
older
wine a lot?” I asked, unable to contain the questions spilling out of my brain.

“Once,” he blushed, and I couldn’t lie – it was adorable.

“Once? Care to share the story?”

He stared down at his glass. “Well, I’ve never told anyone this, but…here goes. This wine is working a little
too
well, I think.”

He leaned back, making his fresh, crisp scent hit my nostrils, and the reaction caused my whole body to go numb like when you walk outside in January. “Well, older women hit on me all the time, but I never did anything about it – until my neighbor, Miss Jill, came along,” he began. “She had a husband who was never home, always off on business or whatever, you know, that sort of deal, and before long she became absolutely
crazy
for attention.”

“How old was she?”

“Fifty-one, but her plastic surgeries made her look about thirty.”

“
Wow
. And how old were you?”

“Well, it started out right after I turned seventeen. And – let me explain!” he said in response to my floored expression. “I went away to Alabama for football camp for six weeks and came back with twenty more pounds of muscle, and the moment she saw me, she started putting on skimpy little outfits to clean her pool and whatnot. But I’m a bit of a dufus about that stuff, and I never noticed a thing. It wasn’t until my friend pointed out how strange it was that Miss Jill was putting on a thong bikini to clean her
screened-in
pool every single day that I realized something was up.”

My grandfather clock ticked away. “So this Miss Jill lady – did she seduce you?” I asked, leaning forward and slipping into a tense little world where only Ben and his story existed.

“Hold on,” he said, sipping his wine. “This wasn’t some situation where she cornered me late one night and jumped my bones or something. I can’t lie – I wanted her, too. A lot. And I felt really guilty about it. I’d always watched – you know, like, MILF porn, for whatever reason – and I wondered about Miss Jill pretty often. I think I had some sort of fetish for her. At night I’d lay in bed imagining what it’d feel like to take off her bikini bottoms and feel around down there, and then I’d touch myself and pretend it was her. Since she paid me to feed her dogs after school, I started sneaking into her room to poke around, and…well, one day she came home early and found me smelling her underwear drawer.”

“
Wow
,” I said, starting to get a little turned on, even though what we were talking about was admittedly bizarre, and maybe even criminal. My reaction was confusing and maybe even concerning, but I couldn’t stop myself – this was hot. “What’d she do?”

“Well, I couldn’t deny that I wanted something to happen,” he said, looking more than a little ashamed. “She walked up, grabbed me by the chin, and told me I was being bad. I was so turned on and terrified and all these other things, all I could do was stare at her – I think I came a little in my pants right then and there, actually. So she asked me what my mother would say about me smelling the underwear of someone who was her own age, and I said I had no clue, but that she’d be mad. After a really long silence, Miss Jill asked me if I ever thought of her at night, and I nodded, and then she pushed me down her body by my shoulders, shoved my face into her underwear, and told me to smell the real thing.”

I crossed and uncrossed my legs and then reached up to wipe my brow. The air in the room now felt somewhere between “piping hot” and “Las Vegas parking lot in August.”

“Where were your parents during all this?” I asked.

“Nowhere, I guess. My mom was in and out at the time, but she was so young – she’s still only thirty-nine – that she never would’ve suspected something going on between me and someone so old. Not that she would’ve given a damn, anyway.”

Good God
, I thought. I was older than Ben’s mother. If I didn’t feel guilty before, I most certainly did now.

“Anyway,” he continued, his voice growing even quieter, “back to that day. I was so excited I kissed her crotch area really violently, but she shook her head and told me to lick her softly, like I licked my girlfriends’ nipples. I asked her what the hell she was talking about, and apparently she’d seen me hooking up with a girl in her pool when I’d thought she was out of town, which was totally embarrassing. So I licked her a little over her underwear, and then she started moaning and took me by the hand, laid down on the bed, and told me to do what the guys did to the women in my videos, since she could apparently see into my bedroom and had known I’d been watching MILF porn all along.”

My eyes were now the size of my Range Rover’s hubcaps. “…So what’d you do?”

“Started licking her pussy,” he said. “Even though I’d hooked up with a few girls from school, I was still a virgin and pretty much had no clue what I was doing, so she told me exactly what to do until I made her…well, you know. Come. It was the most erotic moment of my life – I can still picture the way she grasped her sheets while she came all over my face. It was hot as
shit
, not gonna lie.”

He stared over at my crotch as he said this.

“Anyway, from then on, I would sneak over there every weekend and do more and more with her. Sometimes when she was horny she’d come right on over to my house and make up some bogus thing that she needed fixed or figured out, like her iPad or toilet something, and demand that I come over to help. Needless to say, I was servicing a lot more than just her sink.”

“Good gracious. And did you ever…?”

He fidgeted. “Have sex? No. She said she didn’t want to officially cheat on her husband, not that what we were doing wasn’t already cheating, anyway. But somehow it never got to sex. She taught me how to do everything else really well, though.”

I can imagine,
I thought, my pulse – and libido – reaching runaway train status. I couldn’t hold it any longer – I wanted him, but I had no clue how to get the ball rolling. The wine getting to my head, I leaned closer and let out a long, slow breath. I stared down at his leg, unable to look at his dazzling face, when a sudden idea struck me.

“Hey – what if we pretended I was Miss Jill tonight?”

“…Miss Jill?” he gulped. I couldn’t believe what I was saying, but I kept going.

“Yeah – seems like a good enough place to start. Let’s pretend, say, that it’s a rainy night, my husband’s gone, and I invited you over to, I don’t know, ‘figure out my new DVR remote.’ What would you do to me? Or, I mean, to Miss Jill?”

A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. “Well, first, Miss Jill would probably put a hand on my leg…like that,” he said as I rested my hand on his firm calf.

“Okay. And then?”

He closed his eyes and gulped. “Then she’d ask me if I had a hard-on, I guess.”

I reached up towards his crotch. He did…and it was impressive.
Far
more impressive than my husband’s.

“Nice. And then?”

He licked one glistening lip. “And then she’d probably rub the tip of my cock through my pants while she asked me to roll her nipples between my fingers.”

“Do it,” I whispered as his pre-come wet his coat. He reached up, cupped my breast, and slowly began rolling my nipple through the thin film of my dress. I moaned and rolled my eyes back into my head involuntarily.

“Oh, yes, you’re sexy,” he said quietly. “Sexier than Miss Jill. Do you like this?” I nodded. “Do you want me?” he continued, and I nodded again. “Good. I’ll take the reigns now. But before I do, I have to warn you about something.” His voice grew darker, and he started rolling my nipples between his fingers with a new urgency. “I have these…issues, you know. I’m a fighter, and I have an…anger that rises to the surface sometimes when I’m intimate. It’s nothing dangerous, but just so you know, I can get a little…rough.”

A sigh escaped from my lips as he touched me. With the wine in my blood and the heat between my legs, I was powerless to stop whatever was about to happen, even with his warnings. “I can deal with that,” I whispered. By this time I was sufficiently drunk, the kind of drunk that feels warm and fuzzy around the edges, and my shame was starting to battle with other, more
pleasurable
feelings within me. “I’m sick of men being distant with me,” I said. “Get close – even if it means a little pain. I’m used to it.”

“
Ahhh
,” he groaned, speeding up his movements, as my insides positively flooded. I had no idea I could even
get
this horny. “This is so fucking hot. You’re not wearing a bra, are you? You’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you, Mrs. Robinson?”

“Fuck yes I am,” I breathed. “But wait, you called me ‘
Mrs
.’ How’d you know I was…how’d you notice I had a…”

“A husband?” he asked, and I nodded. He motioned at my wedding ring, which of course I’d stupidly forgotten to remove in all the night’s action. For a moment I felt awful, but then Richard’s words from the phone call sounded through my brain, as welcome as a foghorn at 3 AM…

Yes, that’s right, you’re Daddy’s little slut, my wife can’t do that…

And suddenly I didn’t feel so guilty anymore. Instead, the beads of sweat dripping down Ben’s tanned, muscular neck ushered me into a primal, visceral, animalistic state of being in which I could only think one thing:

I want that. I want to get fucked by that.

“Don’t,” Ben murmured as the air went from electric to downright nuclear, preventing me from removing my diamond as he licked his delicious lips and then placed a very large hand on my thigh. “Leave it on, Mrs. Robinson.”

7

Ben Bradley

I leaned forward, letting my libido take control. I was way too turned on for the whole “good boy” act Carol had told me to adopt, and Bad Ben was officially out to play. Did Carol really know how intense I could get? That my anger issues stemming from my sister’s problems and my wreck of a childhood sometimes made me push the limits of what was safe and ethical and moral? Oh well – right now, I didn’t give a fuck. All I wanted was Grace’s pussy in my mouth immediately.

Did Grace know how fucking sexy she was? She said she looked old, but to me she didn’t look a day over twenty-nine. Her dark hair swished past her shoulders and smelled like honey and flowers, and her thoughtful hazel eyes glinted so fucking sexily in the soft light. She had curves everywhere I liked them, and the light lines around her eyes and mouth actually turned me the fuck on – they showed that she’d seen things I hadn’t seen, knew things I didn’t know, experienced things I could only hope to experience…

I knew how to fool around, that was true. I was an expert, actually. But when it came to actual sex, I was kind of clueless. Miss Jill had taught me all the ways to please her without actually putting my penis in her and technically breaking the law, and lately, my schedule of working and taking care of Claire nonstop hadn’t exactly left much time for a social life and the pursuit of girls. But still, I knew how to make Mrs. Robinson come…

And as warm pre-come dripped from my dick, I said a silent prayer that hot fucking sex was one of the things she’d experienced and wanted to share with me.

“So, if you were miss Jill, I think that maybe I’d do this,” I said as I slid my hand over Mrs. Robinson’s panties. Shit, they were wet.
So
wet. And that turned me on so fucking much. “You’re dripping for me, Mrs. Robinson.
So
fucking wet. What should I do about that?”

“Play with it,” she whispered, and I rubbed my fingers softly but firmly over her wet clit.

“Oh,
yes
,” she moaned as she leaned back. “I love that. But do it slower. I want this to last. Ugh, I could do it all night, actually.”

“Yes, ma’am – I can’t
wait
to watch you come in front of me.”

I rubbed her clit over her lingerie in slow, deliberate circles, making her hitch her back and breathe in slow, ragged breaths. As I warmed her up, I looked through a back window and saw the soft glow of a swimming pool in the back courtyard.
Swimming pool rich
, I thought to myself, referring to the term I’d invented for the kids I’d grown up with in McLean, with their six bedroom McMansions and Olympic-sized tubs out back. Meanwhile my mom waitressed at the fancy restaurants in town and was therefore just barely able to afford a tiny little garage apartment in a country club mansion, accidentally affording me entry into one of the public school systems in the country. Because of this I’d always felt like an outsider looking in, a whore in church, and that would probably never change.

Now I’m just a whore in a Georgetown mansion,
I thought to myself as I looked down at my very sexy – and very married – client. Sure, her husband had plenty of money, but apparently not even liquor from the highest shelf could have prevented her from stooping this low. What had made her do this? Could her husband really be
that
bad?

“What’s funny?” she asked, her voice husky.

“Nothing. What do you want now, Mrs. Robinson? I’m all yours. Actually, can I start by telling you what
I’d
like?”

Her eyes rolled back into her head, which I took as a yes. As I slipped my hand under her lingerie and rubbed her soft pussy, I got closer to her ear and started murmuring into it. “First, I want my tongue on every beautiful inch of you,” I exhaled, tickling her earlobe with my breath. The way I was lording over her, pleasuring her while talking dirty to her at the same time, was even turning
me
on. In between words I kissed her chest and then sucked on it a little, leaving little red spots to remind her I’d been there. “I want to kiss you from your earlobe to your neck to your collarbone to your belly button, and then I want my face buried in your pussy. I want to taste all of it – I’ll flick that beautiful clit with my tongue over and over again while I finger-fuck you all the while. Then I want to reach up and squeeze your nipples while I lick you and tell you how beautiful you are until you come all over my face. Then I want to kiss you and force you to taste yourself – you’ll love it, I promise. Then I want to turn you around and hold your hands behind your back and slowly fuck your tight little pussy until I come, and then I want to pull out and eat your pussy one more time, just to make sure you’re the last one to come.”

“Good God – that woman
did
teach you well,” Mrs. Robinson breathed.

“Yep, and you’re about to reap the benefits. What do you want?”

“Everything,” she said. “Put your finger in.”

I slipped a finger inside Grace’s pussy and did a come-here motion, hitting her G spot, just like Miss Jill had taught me. She moaned louder than ever and leaned her head all the way back. Then I rubbed my finger over her wet clit once more, slowly brought it up to my mouth, and rubbed it along my tongue.

“Damn,” I whispered. “You taste so good. I’m impressed.”

“
Ughhh
,” she groaned. “
God
, this is wrong.”

“Which is what makes it feel so right,” I said as I lifted her leg slowly and draped it over my shoulder. Her eyes got large, but she said nothing.

“So, after Miss Jill closed the blinds and laid down on the bed,” I whispered, “she’d usually guide my face down to her crotch and push my mouth into it, and she’d tell me exactly what to do to make her come. And then I’d take out my cock and she’d suck it until she swallowed that come.”

Mrs. Robinson swallowed hard. “We can do all that, you know.”

“But you look hesitant,” I said. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” she said slowly. “No one has made me feel this beautiful – or said this many nice things to me – in a very long time.”

“Well that’s just a shame, because you deserve it.”

I picked up her foot and placed a kiss on her sole of her toe, a trick I’d learned from Miss Jill. Mrs. Robinson closed her eyes and arched her back.

“Ahh,” she sighed, her face screwed up with pleasure. “Fuck me,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“Fuck me.”

“Right here?” I asked, slightly amused.

“Right here.” She met my gaze, her eyes dark and hungry. “
Fuck me, Ben
.”

With an explosive burst of energy I pushed her up against the arm of the sofa, knelt before her, and pushed open her legs. With her lingerie pushed aside, I could see that she was shaved – all over.

“
Fuuuck
, you are sexy, Mrs. Robinson,” I said as I whipped my dick out of my pants, making her eyes go wide like a receiver. “You really want me to fuck you right now?”

“Yes. Fuck me hard. Fuck me now.”

Oh, God – this was it. I leaned forward, overcome with need for Grace. I was doing it, I was really doing it – I was going to fuck this woman. The head of my cock hit her, she let out a gasp – I bucked my hips and prepared to push all of me into Grace, on her husband’s couch, in her husband’s home – I took a breath and prepared to feel her around my cock, and then I’d fuck her ‘til kingdom come, ‘til I had forgotten that I had fallen down to the lowest rung of society, ‘til I forgot I was officially a prostitute –

A heart-stopping sound made us both stop and look toward the foyer.

Someone was knocking on the door.