Confused Landlady SubmitsbyStrangetwist©
How could I have let this happen?
My husband and I live in a mid-sized city in Minnesota. My husband is a section supervisor at the local retailer. He works the afternoon/evening shift and is seldom home before midnight. Earlier this year, to make ends meet we rented the room to Brad, an 18 year old hockey player with the local semi-pro team.
Brad had never lived away from home before. He found the adjustment difficult. When his schoolwork began to slip, it affected his play. Team officials were concerned. They contacted me about arranging for a tutor. I had once been a pretty good student, so I offered to help. Brad didn't seem to mind. The money would come in handy. I opened up a bank account under my own name.
We had to work around the team's road trips and practices, but we managed. After lunch each day I would run the kids over to my sister's house. When Brad arrived home after school, he would go to his room and start his homework... and I was there to help him. Around dinner, my sister would drop off the kids. The schedule worked well. Brad's marks picked up in all of his subjects except for Mr. Sweeny's biology class. On the ice, he returned to form. Team officials were pleased. I was rewarded with a small pay raise.
One of the team's star players was a Russian named Yuri. Yuri was older than Brad, but they were in the same grade. Yuri was the captain of the team. He billeted with another family, just a few doors away. Brad sometimes invited Yuri back to our house after school to do homework. Yuri was a tall, rugged, handsome boy with a commanding presence. I liked having him around. I think he liked me too.
Most days, Brad would work seated at the desk and I would stand beside him. When Yuri was over, he would lounge on Brad's bed. Sometimes I caught Yuri looking at me. As time went on, it happened more and more. I guess I liked it... there was a certain taboo chemistry between us. I didn't think Brad was aware of it. Wrong.
One day in November, it happened. I was downstairs with Brad and Yuri. Just as we settled into work, Brad discovered that he was missing an assignment. Yuri suggested that Brad go back to school to retrieve it. In a flash, Brad was gone, leaving me alone with Yuri. I should have left the room immediately. As usual, Yuri sat cross-legged on the bed. He beckoned me over. "Karen, please to help?" he said. I sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned over to look at the question. Our arms accidentally brushed; at least I think it was accidental. The sensation was electric.
As if nothing had happened, I leaned over a bit more... and again our arms touched. I turned to look at Yuri. His face was just inches from mine. The attraction was magnetic. I was unwilling and unable to draw away. I could feel his breath upon me. His lips brushed mine once... and then again, lingering. Before long our tongues met. Rugged, handsome Yuri enveloped me in his arms. I should have protested, but I didn't. Instead, I let him lay me back on the bed. He showered me with kisses. Sensing no resistance, he moved his hand inside my sweater. "Please don't," I said, a protest lacking any conviction. I felt him cup my naked breast. With thumb and forefinger he tweaked my nipple. With shame I could feel myself becoming wet with desire.
It was then that we heard Brad coming. "Yuri, please let me up," I pleaded. He did so immediately. We straightened ourselves up as best we could. When Brad walked in, everything seemed normal. As Yuri left later that afternoon I whispered "Please keep this between us." That evening I couldn't stop thinking about him. To my husband I appeared very edgy. I had lots of time to think about my near-infidelity because the next day the team began a long road trip. The days seemed to drag by.
The team bus rolled back into town late Sunday evening. Normally my husband would do the pick-up. That night, I offered to do it. My husband was tired, so he gratefully accepted. It was a cold November night. I went to the arena a bit early. The heater in the pick-up truck was cranked. When the boys got off the bus, I noticed that Brad was limping. Accompanied by the team trainer, he hobbled into the arena. Yuri ran over to say that Brad had been hurt in the game that afternoon. "His leg stiffened up during the bus ride," explained Yuri. "Is he alright?" I asked. "The trainer says he just needs a muscle massage," replied Yuri. "Want to wait in the arena?" he asked. "No, the truck's warm and the arena's cold," I replied. "Get in here with me." We were alone.
The parking lot was soon empty of cars. I stared straight ahead, waiting for Yuri to make the first move. He put his hand around my shoulder and played a little with my hair. Sensing no resistance, he pulled me toward him. When he looked into my eyes, I melted. He brought his lips to mine. Without hesitation, I kissed him back. He soon had his hand under my sweater. Oh this young buck... he knew just how to touch a woman.
"Please Yuri, we shouldn't be doing this," I protested... but when he withdrew his hand, I betrayed my true emotions by whispering in his ear, "Oh please don't stop." It was then that I felt his hand on my knee. When I did not protest, his hand moved to the inside of my thigh and began urging my legs apart. Sensing no resistance, he began to tease me. His hand on my inner thigh went higher and higher, but I wanted more. "Touch me," I breathed. His hand drew closer, but still he hesitated.
"Please," I said in desperation, my hips gyrating. At last, through my jeans I felt him cup me. I moaned, wanting more. The windows of the pick-up quickly became steamy. That was a good thing, too, because the next thing I knew Brad was knocking at the window. Yuri and I straightened up. Then we let Brad into the cab of the pick-up. He knew that he had interrupted something, but he was not sure what.
After we dropped Yuri off, Brad and I drove the rest of the way home in silence. As we were about to leave the truck, Brad said, "Mrs. Fields, can I ask you something?" I nodded, worried about where this might lead. "Do you find me attractive?" he asked, turning, putting his arm on the back of my seat. "Of course, Brad, all the girls do," I replied evasively. "No, I'm asking about you, Karen. Do you find me attractive?" he asked, inching closer. "Yes of course, Brad," I whispered, turning my head to look into his eyes.
"Then kiss me," he said, forcing himself upon me, bringing his lips to mine. I tried to pull away without success. He pulled me close to him and kissed me harder. I don't know what came over me, but when his tongue brushed my lips, I confess I gave in and, for a brief moment, kissed him back. It was only when he started fumbling under my sweater that I came to my senses. I pulled away and hurried inside, flustered and confused.
I retired to my bedroom to find my husband already snoring. Try as I might, I could not get to sleep. I was worried about Brad. I was worried about what he might say. After all, he was still very young. I went downstairs dressed in my nightgown. I knocked on his door and was invited to enter. He was in bed, sheets pulled up around him.
"We have to talk," I said. "Sit down," he beckoned. I should have known better, but I guess I wasn't thinking straight. As soon as I sat down, he grabbed me and pulled me to him. "Stop, Brad, please," I hissed. "Let me kiss you," he whispered. By now his weight was on top on me, his arms pinning mine over my head. "I can't. It's not right," I replied, raising my voice slightly. "Shhhhh... do you want to wake everyone up?" he asked. "No," I hissed, my resistance weakening. "Then kiss me like you did in the truck."
Reluctantly I gave in. Sensing that my resistance was weakening, he released my arms. Without thinking of the effect it would have on him, my hands began to explore Brad's heavily muscled torso. Excited by this, our kissing became even more passionate. Through my nightgown I felt his hand on my breast. His touch was tender. He began tweaking my nipple. I felt it stiffen. My hips began to undulate gently.
Brad's hips responded with an urgency of their own and I sensed his growing hardness. It only made me hotter. My legs parted slightly, involuntarily really. Soon we were grinding our loins into each other. He then guided my arm to his waist. I let it drift lower, to his buttocks, seeking to encourage his thrusting. Only then did I realize that Brad was naked. Though the sheets were still partially wrapped around him, I knew I was really playing with fire. It took all my will to stop, but I did it. I scrambled out of his bed with at least some of my dignity still intact.
The next day I was beset by conflicting emotions. I needed time to think. I valued my marriage and my commitment to my children, but the experiences of yesterday rekindled memories of my wild teenage years. I yearned for Yuri's rugged touch. I wanted it like a child wants a toy at Christmas. Young Brad had also turned me on.
Before lunch I dropped the kids off at my sister's. Then I drew myself a bath. For the first time in my life, I trimmed my pussy. I couldn't believe how good it looked and felt. I marveled at my body: despite two kids, I was still in good shape. After a good soak, I rubbed myself with oil and lay down to rest. I must have fallen asleep.
I was awoken at around 2 o'clock by a knock on the front door I threw on a wrap and went to see who it was. My heart skipped a beat. It was Yuri. "I left school early," he said. "I wanted to be with you." I invited him in, shut the door, and then I threw my arms around him, not caring that the wrap had fallen loose to reveal my naked body. He kissed me. Then he picked me up and carried me upstairs. On my matrimonial bed he took me. Then he took me again. I loved it.
I was on my back, legs wrapped around him, on the verge of another orgasm, when Brad walked into the room. He too must have skipped school! Caught in the throes of passion, I registered no protest. Brad sat down on the bed beside us. Yuri took no notice: he just kept driving his cock into me. My hands were on his hips, urging him to thrust more deeply. My wanton lust was on full display... and I didn't care. I felt Brad's hand touch my knee. I let it linger there. Then I felt Brad's hand move from my knee to my inner thigh. This felt unbelievably wicked. Brad's hand crept higher. What was left of my resolve weakened, then disappeared.
In no time, Brad's fingers had reached my cunt, already wet with a mixture of Yuri's seed and my own juices. Even as Yuri's cock pistoned in and out, Brad played with me. It drove me wild. I bucked and bucked. "Oh yes," I panted, "Oh God yes." I felt Brad's slippery fingers searching. He soon found another opening... the only other one available to him. "Oh," I panted, "Oh God." Never before had I been penetrated in that way, by the cock of one lover in one hole and the fingers of another in another. I went off like a moon rocket. We played the rest of the afternoon, until we collapsed from exhaustion. That night, my husband commented on how much he enjoyed sleeping in clean sheets...
Next afternoon our tutoring session ended even before it began with three-way play. I came to enjoy these sessions. Brad also found that he had an occasional late-night visitor. Over time, my sister became suspicious. I think the coach's wife suspected something too. Otherwise, everything seemed fine. I couldn't have been more wrong. I was counting on the emotional maturity of two teenage boys to keep this dirty little secret. Two testosterone-laden hockey players, no less. What a fool I was!
The trouble started one day in January, with a fellow named Stan. Like Brad, Stan was one of the younger members of the team. He had a powerful physique, but he also had a stutter so he was shy around girls. This affected his confidence, which in turn affected his play. Brad had spoken to me about this. He asked if I would talk with Stan. "For the good of the team..." he said. It was arranged that Stan would come over one afternoon when Yuri wasn't around. To my surprise, another teammate named Pierre showed up as well. Pierre was a big, rugged guy from Quebec. He was one of the team's 'enforcers'. Like Stan, Pierre had struggled earlier in the season. He had often been a healthy scratch. Only now was he starting to see some ice time. Both of the boys were about Stan's age.
The four of us sat together in the living room. I had been doing housework earlier. I was just wearing a light dress that buttoned down the front. Underneath, I was only wearing a pair of white cotton panties. I was on the sofa with Brad. Stan and Pierre were seated in another sofa across from us. Brad surprised me by putting his arm nonchalantly behind me. Right then I should have seen it coming.
Stan tried to break the ice with lame complements about the house, but at least he tried. Brad then got to the point saying, "The guys know all about us." My stomach sank. "What do you mean?" I asked. "You know," replied Brad, "how I struggled early this season... and how you helped." With his hand, he began caressing my neck. "You boys have to leave," I said, "Now!" I tried to get up. Brad wouldn't let me. "It's OK, Karen, they know all about us." I begged him to release me saying, "Please don't do this Brad."
He pulled me to him. I felt his hand cup my breast through the material of the dress. I struggled to break free, but I couldn't. "Are you going to cooperate, or should I tell your husband about us?" threatened Brad. "God no, Brad, please don't do that," I said. "Then stop struggling and play along," he said. "Please don't make me do this, Brad," I whispered. "Then kiss me Karen," he commanded, bringing his lips to mine. Fearing the consequences of disobeying, I reluctantly gave in to him.
He took his time with me and, as I began to relax, his kisses and caresses became tender. His fingers toyed with my nipple through the thin material of the dress. I couldn't help myself... I was becoming aroused. I felt so ashamed. After a while, he took my hand and guided it to my breast. I heard him whisper, "Touch yourself Karen." Like a slut, I did as I was told. He shifted so the others could watch.
By now my body had slid down the sofa, causing the hem of my dress rise so much that my thin white panties were exposed to the boys. Then I felt Brad place his hand on my leg and urge my knees apart. The sensation was electric. Brad then said, "Karen, put on a show for the boys. Spread your legs a little." I hesitated. I knew this was wrong but I was starting to get really hot. Maybe I could do it just a little. I let my legs part.
I felt Brad's fingers trace their way slowly up the inside of my thigh. A familiar heat was rising in my loins. I opened my legs wider. I was now sure that Pierre and Stan could see the damp spot on my panties. I no longer cared. Sensing the triumph of lust over common sense, Brad undid the buttons of my dress and pulled it from me, leaving me clad only in panties. "Now lay back and play with your tits Karen... and pull those nipples hard." I did as ordered and became even more aroused.
I felt Brad move his fingers onto the silkiest part of my inner thigh. I spread my legs wide. I didn't care any longer. I wanted this. Then he deliberately touched my clit through the material of my panties. I gave out a low moan. He kept touching me there, teasing me, making me desperate for relief, legs quivering on the edge of an orgasm
Then he took hold of my left hand: the one with my ring finger. He guided it down my belly and underneath the elastic band of my panties. "Touch yourself, Karen," he whispered. I couldn't help it. I didn't care about the others. I was desperate for relief. I began to stroke my clit. The movement of my hips seemed to add to the pleasure.
"Slip a finger into yourself, Karen," he commanded. Then he pulled my panties aside so his friends could watch. I did as ordered, first with one finger and then with two. A moan escaped my lips. I began to slide my fingers in and out of my shaved pussy even more quickly. As the orgasm built up inside me, I found myself panting and crying out in pleasure. Brad then licked his finger and slipped it into my anus. I came like a freight train.
They fucked me silly the rest of the afternoon. Pierre took me twice: once in the living room and once on the kitchen table. Stan took me twice too: once on the stairs and then in the shower. They took me in ways I had not imagined possible. They took me to places I had never been. Brad just watched... through the lens of a video camera. A couple of days later, Brad returned with two other teammates. I shouldn't have let it happen, but I let them fuck me silly again.
In the next few games, the play of all the boys I had fucked improved dramatically. It was the worst thing that could possibly have happened. The sports world is a superstitious one. Rumor had it that I was a good luck charm. Want to break out of a slump? Fuck Karen. Want to stay out of a slump? Keep fucking Karen. By the end of March, I had been laid by about half the team... and the team was driving toward its first playoff berth in years. Someone in management must have made the connection because my tutoring payments increased in lockstep with my bedroom performance. For a hockey groupie it might have been great, but for a married mother of two in a small city it was hugely risky to entertain in this way a growing parade of boys. Through it all, my husband seemed oblivious, other than commenting occasionally on how tired I always seemed to be... and how much he liked my pussy shaved and how I was always so wet.
I wanted it to stop, but they had video... and by now they had lots of it. I was sure I could sink no lower. I was wrong. One afternoon in April, I was running late with some chores. I was dirty and sweaty, and I wanted to wash up before the boys arrived home. I jumped into the shower. Just as I got started I heard Brad in the adjoining room. "I'll just be a moment," I called out, my hair filled with shampoo. I heard him mumble something. Then he opened the door and stepped inside. Brad took me in his arms and we were soon locked in an embrace. It was then that I heard the shower door open and felt another pair of hands upon me. I was so used to Brad bringing friends back to the house that I didn't react. I kept my eyes shut because of the shampoo, but I wondered whom it might be. Whoever he was, he was standing behind me and his hands were dancing their way all over my body. He certainly knew how to play with a woman. I reached behind me to stroke his cock. He was very large. In his excitement, he pressed himself against me. Only then did it register: this was no hockey player! He was too paunchy. My eyes wide, I looked around. It was Mr. Sweeney, Brad's biology teacher.
"Oh God," I groaned and struggled to escape. "Please Brad, this is asking too much," I protested. "It's OK. Mr. Sweeney's seen the tapes," he whispered, "and he'll take care of my biology mark if you cooperate." With those words, my world crumbled. Brad picked me up and carried me, soaking wet, to my bed. Sweeney followed close behind. Brad laid me on my back. He then positioned his head between my legs and went to work with his tongue. I shivered in unwanted pleasure when he touched my clit. I cringed in unwanted shame when he circled my anus and forced his tongue inside.
He instructed me to get on my hands and knees, legs apart, ass in the air. There was no point resisting. I obeyed. Sweeney was quickly between my legs. He seemed fascinated with my nearly naked pussy. With his fingers he played with the folds of my skin and my clit. My hips responded, undulating. I felt the stirrings of carnal desire. I began to pant.
Brad then kissed me wetly: he knew that French kissing always made me hot. Sweeney replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock. He slid it up and down my slit, exciting me further. Then with one quick thrust his big cock was inside me. I moaned uncontrollably, long and loud. Brad pulled away to enjoy the sight of his teacher fucking his landlady. Sweeney then began pumping into me with deep, rhythmic thrusts. I felt myself approaching orgasm. I felt sooooo wicked. I then heard Brad whisper, "Watch..."