Bill's Mom UnveiledbyJRob©
As I entered my freshman year in college, I had the uncanny ability of falling in love with several wonderful girls.
There was Katrina, the head varsity cheerleader from Pamona with the long legs and pouty lips. There was Monica, the girl from Vineland who everyone seemed to have their way with. There was Jenine, the older sister of my best friend and roommate Bill, a girl with a great smile and penchant for tight skirts. And who could forget Ms. Vance, my English professor who loved wearing sweaters which made her breasts seem enormous.
My sex life was active, very active.
I fell in love with each and every one of these girls.
There was one small problem. None of them gave me the time of day. Heck I had only kissed three girls while in high school, and those were basically the on the cheek or quick peck on the lips variety. College wasn't much different.
And the sex? Well, it was often, but centered on late night rendezvous with the palm of my right hand. Such was life in the 70s. Yea, you can read in history books about free love and all, but it didn't seem to happen around my neighborhood in Voorhees, New Jersey.
On my part it was love at first sight whenever my eyes graced a pretty girl. On their part they didn't know I existed.
Bill and I commiserated about virginity, and we marveled at some of our friends who were constantly parking down at the lake or on top of makeout mountain. Joey Castle, the third member of our college dorm suite, claimed he had bedded four girls and had been blown by two others.
"It's technique," he'd say. "You guys try too hard."
Easy for him to say. The harder I tried, the more girls felt I was after only one thing. And while they were probably right, it still drove me batty. I'd satisfy my urges by imagining various professors and friends sisters in action in my bedroom. My fantasies ran the full gambit, but normally ended with me on top of one of these nubile girls, screwing ourselves into a tizzy.
Even Bill's mom, Mrs. Beaudrey, a good-looking, red-haired woman in her late 30s, made her way into my fantasies. Mrs. Beaudrey, unlike girls my age, did give me the time of day when I was at her home visiting her son. Always motherly, she was inquisitive about school, about baseball, about girls. One could not visit her house without the offer of snacks and beverages, words of encouragement and generally a welcome smile. Of course, I liked to gaze at the woman when she wasn't looking at me, because she looked adorable in her modest but sexy skirts and blouses. The fact that she had two children didn't change her figure, as while she didn't have large breasts, they were full and stood firm, while her legs were slim and sexy.
I once told Bill his mother was a hottie, and he just laughed. "You're a pig," he'd say with a laugh. "Be careful, she's my mom."
I'd always reply the same way. "Bill, she's your mom, but she is a pretty woman. You should be proud of her."
Silently, I knew he agreed. His 40-year-old mother did get second looks from men when they were at the mall or wherever.
Bill and I would visit each other's bedrooms, playing video games and sneaking peeks at his father's Playboy collection. His dad had a stack of the magazines under his work bench, and every so often we would "borrow" a couple for the afternoon, sneaking them up to his room. We'd look at the girls, compare notes, almost making it a survey of sorts. Miss October had nicer legs than Miss June, or Miss December had a spectacular ass, or whatever.
On one of those afternoons Bill and I were hanging around, and when we arrived at his house nobody seemed to be home. We grabbed some soft drinks and went up to his room, taking turns with his Playstation. As it happened, Bill was conquering the world while I stood up to stretch. I happened to look out his window, into his back yard, where lo and behold Ms. Beaudrey was stretched out on her back on a beach towel, soaking up rays. Her bikini bottom was on, but her top was doing that woman thing. That is, she was lying on her bikini top, but it was unfastened as her back was getting a complete tan.
As I gazed upon her tanning body, she pushed up onto her elbows, looked around, and as she thought the coast was clear she flipped over onto her back, baring two wonderfully shaped breasts.
"Oh my god" I said, getting Bill's attention.
"What?" he asked, quizzically.
"I, uh, well..." I stuttered.
Bill stood up, and when he looked out the window I thought his eyes would pop out.
He was speechless, I was speechess. We knew it was wrong, but we both stared at the near naked woman below us.
Afraid we would be caught peeping at his mom, we silently made our way downstairs and out of the house, both generalizing that we had done nothing wrong. Bill got me to promise that I would never reveal what we had discovered that afternoon, he was a bit embarrassed but rightly proud of how I took toward calling his mom beautiful. Right or wrong, that night Mrs. Beaudrey was the subject of my masterbatory endeavors.
The subject of what we saw from his bedroom did not come up again. We were best friends, and spent our our freshman year at State U. struggling though math and science while continuing to strike out with the ladies on Friday nights.
I will say that ever since I saw Bill's mom in the back yard, she became my tried and true fantasy. Every I visited Bill's house, on weekends or breaks from school, I saw his mother in a new light. My eyes constantly made their way toward her bosom, a fact I knew she realized but never said anything about.
Try as I might, whenever I was over Bill's house I didn't have the opportunity to catch his mom in the same unclothed position as that one special, memorable afternoon.
At least, not until right we were due back from Spring Break in our Freshman year.
On that particular Saturday I went over Bill's house. I knew he was with his dad fishing, but I needed to pick up a video game I had left at his house. When I arrived the front door was open, and although I knocked, nobody answered. I said hello, and when still nobody was to be found I figured I would run upstairs and get the game. After I did, I looked outside and was treated to the view of Mrs. Beaudrey tanning herself. This time, though, she opened her eyes and saw me gazing at her naked body.
She let out a bit of a scream, grabbed her towel, and pulled it across her top in a flash. She rose and ran in the house, nearly running into me at the bottom of the stairs as I attempted to make my escape.
"Jonathan Robert! What do you think you are doing!" she said with a snarl. "I have a good mind to call your mother this instant."
I had a deer in the headlights look as I stammered my apologies.
Mrs. Beaudrey rolled her eyes and told me to go sit on the couch in the living room. I did, thinking up all kinds of excuses to tell my mother. When Bill's mom came back, composed, she was wearing a pair of shorts and a blouse. She sat across from me and asked me what I had to say for myself.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Beaudrey," a 20-year-old feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was looking out the window and I saw you and I couldn't help myself. Please don't tell my mom."
"Jonathan, I guess I should take your looking as a compliment! Looking at an old broad like me when there are so many pretty girls your age gallivanting around," she said, smiling. "I won't tell anyone. It will be our secret. But you really shouldn't be peeping on people, you know that."
I looked at her, happy that she wasn't going to spill the beans. "I know, ma'am, but you are so very pretty, I know I should have looked away, but..."
"But what?" she asked.
"I've never seen a woman before. I mean, you know, in person."
"You mean you've never seen a girl in the flesh? What about Sara Roberts? I thought you two were going out?"
"Aw, yea, but that was only a date or two, nothing serious," I said. "I've never seen a girl naked, or touched one, or anything."
Mrs. Beaudrey looked a little perplexed. At first I thought she was confused, or maybe it was merely thoughts running through her head. Whatever, she sort of smiled, a wicked kind of smile.
"So you liked looking at me," she said.
"Oh yes, you are beautiful," I replied. "The girls at college are so stuck up. You are so real."
"Well, Wallace doesn't think so, he hardly ever looks anymore. He hardly knows I exist."
My mind couldn't figure out how her husband wasn't doing her every night. She was pretty, sexy, you name it.
There was an awkward silence, then she quietly asked. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Of course," I replied.
She nodded, stood, and went to the front door, closing it and flipping the lock. She returned to the living room and stood before me. "Close your eyes," she said.
I did. When she told me to open them I was looking at her bared breasts, standing tall and proud before my eyes.
"Is this what you wanted to see?" she said in a husky voice.
I couldn't talk, I could only nod, as she held her breasts in her hands. "They are very sensitive, and when you get a chance to be with a girl you should treat them with soft hands, caressing rather than grabbing them. She how the like that." Again, I nodded as her nipples popped out in front of my eyes. I couldn't believe it, they were beautiful. I reached out but she pulled back. "No, young man. Look, no touching."
It was awesome.
After several minutes she told me she was putting her top back on, and my eyes must have given away my displeasure. "You'll get a chance to see better breasts than these over time," she said with a smile. "But it was hot watching you look at me. It will be our little secret."
She gazed down at my crotch. "Well!!! Is that for me? I guess you liked the view!"
At first I didn't know what she meant, then I looked down and saw the tent in my pants.
I couldn't believe it when she sat down next to me. "Well, if I caused that problem, the least I could do is help fix it."
The woman began caressing my dick through my jeans, and I nearly blew my load. I think she knew the effect her hand had on me, because she quietly told me to unzip my pants. I did, then lowered my pants and underpants. My cock stood straight up as I sat next to the beautiful woman.
I looked straight into her eyes as she looked directly at my pulsing cock. It was as if my dick mesmerized her.
"You know," she cooed, "you have a nice cock. You are going to make lot of girls wiggle in their seats when they think about it."
I hadn't a clue what to say.
Again, she told me to close my eyes. I did, but when I felt flesh on my cock I had to look. I couldn't see exactly, but Mrs. Beaudrey had unfastened her top once again, this time placing her breasts around my cock. In a flash I began rocking against the fleshy mounds, and in seconds I let go with a series of spurts from my manhood. I rocked against the breasts, passage, which became easier as I rocked against my own sticky residue of cum.
When I was totally drained she pulled up, giving me another look at her beautiful breasts, now covered with a copious amount of sperm. My first coupling of any type with a girl, or should I say woman.
She smiled, rubbed the sperm against her 40-year-old mounds, and then told me to button up.
I did, embarrassed a little, and sexually satisfied a lot.
She got up and left the room, returning minutes later fully clothed.
"Now, then, Mr. Jonathan, this will be our little secret, right," she sternly said. "Soon you will be dating girls who will take care of that wonderful cock of yours, and I want you to promise to be careful, use protection, and never hurt anyone with your actions. If I hear that you are not treating girls with respect I just might take a belt to that behind."
I sat there like a lug, which made her smile all the more.
"You have a love look on your face," she said with a smile. "Wipe it off. I am old enough to be your mother!"
I started to laugh. "Gosh, Mrs. Beaudrey, that was unbelievable. I never imagined how good it would be."
"You are so sweet," she replied, again eyeing my trousers. "What is going on there."
My dick had a mind of its own, and just minutes after having been satisfied it was once again rock hard. I held my hand over it, but that just served to make it harder.
"What am I going to do with you!" she said, shaking her head once more.
She had a strange look on her face, and all of a sudden I noticed her face was a little flush.
"I don't believe this," said, not to me but to herself.
She looked long and hard at me, first at my face, then at my dick, then back at my face.
"This is between us, right. You aren't going to mention or brag or say anything to anyone, right?"
"No ma’am," was all I could mutter.
The busty woman again sat beside me, this time kissing my cheek. "I don't know what has gotten into me," she said, "but I just can't control myself."
She began stroking my hard cock through my pants, then unzipped and then lowered my pants. As I pulled down my underwear, she slipped out of her shorts and panties, uncovering a pussy that was graced by trimmed red hair that rivaled any of the girls in the hot magazines I had seen.
I couldn't believe it when she knelt in front of me, and bent her head over to kiss the tip of my cock. I thought I was going to cum until she grabbed hold of the base of my cock and tightened her grip while caressing my hairy balls. The urge to cum subsided, but the sight of her head going down on my cock will live on forever.
"Do you have a condom?" she asked.
I didn't, and she nodded her head. "You really should keep one handy, maybe in your wallet or something," she advised. "Wallace never would go anywhere without one, he always said that he never knew when he might want to fool around with me. I guess the urge is gone."
With that, she told me to keep my hands to she and myself (I think she knew I would probably jerk off at the first opportunity) left the room. She returned a few minutes later with a condom in her hand. "Good think Wallace had some upstairs," she said, ripping open the sheath. "Now, here's how they work."
Mrs. Beaudrey rolled the condom down my manhood with precision. My cock stood at attention as she lay down on the living room floor. She didn't need to say anything. I looked at her beautiful body, especially at her wet pussy, and rose. I walked over, knelt between her legs, and bent over on top of her.
She grasped my dick in her hand and led it to her silky slit. She slid it up and down against her damp pussy, moaned, then groaned as I slipped my rock hard cock inside her hot wetness.
It was incredible.
She arched up against me, and I began pushing right back, beginning the fuck. I rocked as she reached around and grabbed my ass. She pulled me inside, let me pull back, and we rocked together. Although I had recently cum against her breasts, I quickly felt the cum start to escape from the depths of my loins. "Yes, yes, yes," she said, feeling that I was close to climaxing. "Give it to me."
There was a grimace on her face, but I think it was from lust not pain. I continued fucking the woman, or maybe she was fucking me, but whatever we both began moaning and groaning before she let out a yelp. "I'm cumming!!!!" was all she said.
Me too. I shot a copious load of cum into the snug condom in her pussy. I couldn't believe it, I had just fucked my best friend's mother!
Over the years I have had the wonderful opportunity to have sexual relations with a dozen or so women, but none has ever given me the unbelievable feelings of Mrs. Beaudrey. That afternoon wasn't the only time we made love, as it happened I had sex with her several times before I began dating Marcia.
My friend Bill thinks Marcia was the first girl to give me a oral sex, but that's far from the truth. His own mom was the first girl to taste my semen (yes, the day after that first afternoon of bliss I was treated to not one but two blowjobs in an afternoon by Mrs. Beaudrey).
I think our little escapades must have somehow rekindled her relationship with her husband, as on subsequent visits she mentioned on several occasions how Wallace was once again sleeping with her.
She said he was great in bed. With a smile, she added that he was nothing like me. That was our little secret.