tagMatureHer Son's Best Friend

Her Son's Best Friend

byThe Big Bopper©

This story is told through the eyes of a woman, Barbara Bradley, 42-years old, married for the second time. Her husband is Terry and she has two children, a son and a daughter from her first marriage.


As I dressed for the day in the privacy of my bedroom at 11am this morning, intending to look seductive, preparing to make a surprise visit to my husband in his office, I could have no inkling of how this day would play out before the sun set.

After a late breakfast at home, I had soaked in a hot bath until my fingers and toes became all crinkly. That told me that it was time to get out, dry my body in a large fluffy towel, then dab some of my favourite perfume discreetly in all of the important places.

I don't often wear a thong, I don't like the way the thin strand in back rubs against my sensitive anal ring. But on this day, I selected the one flimsy thong that I owned, pulling it up high over my long legs. Then, I added a low slung, half-cup bra where the lacy top just barely covered my nipples. Both garments were black and I continued the theme with stockings and a garter belt that clasped around my fortunately still thin waist and had suspenders that pulled the hose smoothly over my legs. A sexy slinky black satin half-slip from waist to thighs completed my undergarments.

I added the dress that was constructed so briefly that I knew it would expose bits of my under-things when I chose to lift one leg over the other while sitting, or to lean forward seductively while standing.

The receptionist at Terry's office was friendly and welcoming. She announced me and then suggested that I should proceed down the long hallway to his executive office. Outside his door, his PA didn't seem quite as warm, giving me a curt "Hello" and returning swiftly to her computer screen to resume whatever task she had been set by my high-flying businessman husband.

I didn't attempt to win her over -- deciding that she wasn't worth it - and I used my hand to apply pressure to the door of Terry's office. "Hi Barb," he greeted as I stepped inside. He started toward me, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Honey," I told him, "we might have been married five years now, but that shouldn't take away the need for impromptu moments. Do we need an excuse, I thought you might take me somewhere intimate for lunch..." By now, I had moved fully inside his office and had pushed the door closed behind me. As I stepped nearer to my husband before reaching his desk, I added, "...but what I really came here for is for you to sweep all those papers onto the floor and take me, here and now, on your desk."

Terry looked a bit embarrassed, "Barb, I would love nothing more ... you know that, but I am so up to my neck with work deadlines. I have even cancelled Jenny's lunch break, so we can get a couple of reports finished for the board meeting. Sorry babe, we'll have to take a rain-check."

I gave him my best-ever seductive look that said, 'surely you don't really mean that,' and tugged the front of my skirt up high to reveal the stocking tops, the suspenders, the bare thighs. My look now said, 'surely you can't resist this.'

Not winning, I spun around, my hands tugging the dress up in back, and bent forward from the waist, now giving him an eyeful of two smooth butt cheeks, with just a tiny wisp of material trapped out of sight between them. I peeped back over my shoulder, "You can even have me doggie style if you want. I know how you like that."

I still wasn't winning, I straightened up, my face now a frown. My husband rebuked me, "Barb, nice thought, but your timing's way out. Why didn't you call me to save getting all dressed up for nothing."

He -- my beloved husband of five years, Terry -- was giving me the bum's rush. Before I could stop to reflect on how my approach had gone so wrong, I was back in the elevator, riding down to the ground floor. Surely, he could have spared us twenty minutes for a quickie. And what was with his PA, who has always been quite warm and friendly to me? Highly frustrated at my failed attempt at seduction, my mind began racing, were they having an affair? Had he promised her an intimate luncheon somewhere today and I had bumbled in and nearly wrecked his plans?

I had never had suspicious thoughts about Terry before. In our 5 years of marriage, our 6 years since we met, he had never given me any cause to think that he might be like my first husband. Now there was a philandering bastard. Goodness knows how many other women he screwed in the 14 years we were together. The only good thing he gave me was fathering my two wonderful children ... my son Adam, now 20 and my daughter, Julie, now 18 and just finished school.

But back to the present ... having harboured such carnal thoughts since waking up this morning, here I was, literally in heat, dressed for daytime sex, yet about to get back into my car and drive home to my empty house. For just a rash moment, I actually considered heading to a bar, sitting there nursing a drink and seeing what might happen. But that just so wasn't me.

I had been loyal and faithful to my first husband until deciding to match his infidelity in the dying months of our marriage. Shortly after that ended, I met Terry and I had never thought of straying for even a moment ever since.

Driving home alone in my car won out over finding a bar and getting myself into goodness knows what trouble. I cursed Terry all the way home, my thoughts still dwelling on whether he and his prissy PA might by now be entwined in each other's arms, discussing what a close shave they had just had with my intrusion on their plans. Surely not, I tried to tell myself, but still resolved to find a pretext to call him when I got home.

I pulled my car onto the driveway and decided to leave it there rather than put it in the garage. As I stepped out, I saw two young men walking up the driveway behind me, momentarily unnerving me until I recognised one of them ... it was my son Adam's best friend, Jeremy. He had certainly grown into a handsome young man. They had met in pre-school, just as I and Jeremy's mother did at that time, and Adam and Jeremy, and his mum and I had remained firm friends ever since.

"My goodness Jeremy, what are you doing here? Adam's away, you know," I reminded him.

"Yes, Mrs. Bradley, I know that. I ... err ... I lent him a book a few weeks ago and I need it back now. I came by, hoping you'd be here. Do you mind if I come in and check out his room, see if I might find it there?"

"Not at all, you know you're always welcome here, Jeremy. Why, this has been your second home for most of your life." He nodded and smiled warmly in acknowledgement. I looked at the young man with him, at first glance he looked about the same age -- 20 -- as Jeremy and my son Adam. But then on closer inspection, I realised that perhaps he could be a couple of years older. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Jeremy?"

"Oh yes ... oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs Bradley, this is Kurt, he's a friend of Adam's too."

My face probably revealed my surprise as well as voicing it, "Oh really, how do you do, Kurt, Adam has never mentioned your name. You couldn't have known him very long."

Kurt, the taller of the two, politely stretched out his hand and shook mine quite firmly, "I have known your son for at least a year now."

"Oh really," I responded. I was surprised that Adam had never mentioned knowing someone called Kurt, but determined that it wasn't worth debating further. "Come on inside, boys, I can offer you a drink, and maybe I can rustle up some cookies," sounding just like I had with Adam's friends over the past ten years. All through his school days, Adam had never hesitated in inviting his friends to come visit in our home and I had always felt comfortable with them. He seemed to mix with a good crowd.

I put the key in the door and heard Jeremy behind me, "You look very nice today, Mrs Bradley, smell nice too."

I heard his friend Kurt echo a simplistic, "Umm, sure do!"

As I pushed the door open, I turned, "Thank you, that's so nice of you boys to comment. Doesn't surprise me though, Jeremy, you have always been such a polite young man." Their praise did make me feel good, but nevertheless, I couldn't help feeling just a bit self-conscious, dressed the way I was. I would guess that anyone would call my attire this day very sexy, hardly the look to welcome two of my son's best friends into our house.

I strode purposely through the front living room toward the kitchen, calling back, "Make yourself comfortable boys."

In the kitchen, I prepared a plate with two glasses, a choice of soft drinks and a large plate of cookies. I took that back into the living room where the two young men had made themselves very comfortable on the lounge chairs. That didn't bother me though, because I have always encouraged Jeremy to feel like this was his second home.

I played mother by asking which drink each wanted and pouring for them. I stepped over in front of Jeremy, who had made himself very comfortable, sitting spread-eagled and lounging, his legs akimbo, one up over the arm of the chair. As he took the glass from me, I couldn't help glancing down at his spread legs, at his lap and I spotted a very substantial bulge in the front of his trousers. I immediately wished I hadn't looked that way ... he may have noticed.

What was I doing even looking down at his crotch, this was my son's best friend and I had never looked so purposefully below his waist before? But why would he have an erection at this moment? Could I be the cause of it, dressed as I was ... dressed to futilely seduce my husband?

Was the rebuff by my husband playing tricks with me? Was my libido out of control? Was I a woman in heat, what time of the month was it? I quickly averted my gaze, hoping Jeremy hadn't noticed my interest in what was concealed in his trackie pants. I stepped over to offer a drink and cookies to the strange tall silent one, Kurt. I didn't quite know what to make of him. I was careful to keep my gaze up, looking him straight in the eyes. He took the offering of a snack and locked eyes with mine, giving me a strange return look.

I placed the tray of drinks and cookies on the table, "If you'll excuse me boys, I'll be back in a moment," I told them, eager to get out of the room and collect my thoughts, my feelings. I hurried down the hallway to the sanctity of my bedroom at the back end of the house. I closed the door behind me, eager to rid myself of the seductive look that I felt I was projecting to anybody within my space. I needed to put on some more basic around the house clothing while I had young visitors.

I quickly removed the revealing dress and should have just thrown it over a chair and hurried on with my changing. But I took more time than necessary by going over to the wardrobe for a hanger and arranging the dress carefully on it so that it didn't crush as I hung it up. I walked back toward the bed, carrying my change of clothes. On the way, I caught sight of myself in the mirror and paused to admire what I saw. I didn't dress this way quite enough these days. Maybe if I did, I wouldn't be suspecting Terry of a lunchtime dalliance with his PA. I checked out the black underwear -- bra and slip visible, the latter concealing the stockings, garter and thong. I was still wearing my high heels. I figured that I didn't look too bad for 42.

The click of the bedroom door opening startled me and I spun around in shock. It was young Jeremy standing there in the open doorway, then stepping into the room -- my bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. But he came no closer, he just stood back there by the open door, staring at me. He had never done anything like this before ... except maybe when he and Adam were 6 or so, and probably curious to see what grown-up adult women looked like.

"What ... what do you want?" I asked anxiously, hoping my voice didn't signal my alarm, didn't reveal how anxious and nervous I was at having my son's best friend see me like this. "Jeremy, I will be back out in a minute. I don't think it's appropriate for you to be in my bedroom, can you wait outside please?" I was attempting to sound confident, in control ... but inside, my heart was beating wildly.

"I want to watch you get changed," he said. His look was serious, I had never seen him like this before, "just forget I'm here, do whatever you would do if you were alone. Please, I'll stay way back over here, I just want to watch you."

"No Jeremy, you can't do that, you can't be in here, that wouldn't be right," I tried to insist, "can you please go back outside?"

"Mrs Bradley, all these years that I've known you, I've wanted to see you like this. And now today, I am so lucky to be here, I have never seen you look quite so sexy. You look sensational, and you smell so good too." I couldn't believe that I was hearing these words from this nice young boy, who was my son's best friend, and who I had known for most of his twenty years.

Unconsciously, I slipped my fingers of both hands into the elasticised waistband of my black slip. But why ... what was I doing? Was I actually thinking of letting him watch me get changed? I looked between Jeremy standing at the open door and my reflection in the mirror before me. Silently, I was debating whether to lower my black half-slip ... to reveal my next-to-nothing thong pantie, my garter belt, the sheer black stockings.

Reason kicked in, 'As horny as I might feel this very moment, it would be wrong to expose more of me to this young man -- who had been a family friend for most of his life.' My brain screamed at me, 'for God's sake, he is less than half your age, only twenty.'

But while I took too long debating my next move, Jeremy made his, escalating the dilemma that was unfolding. To my complete shock, I watched as his hands went to the drawstring at the waist of his trackie pants. He pulled on it and the trackies fell in a heap around his ankles. He was not wearing underpants, young Jeremy was all too suddenly naked from the waist down, just a tee-shirt covering his chest.

I stared incredulously at the sight of his penis that was now so nakedly exposed. The prominence of it drew my gaze to it, there was no looking away ... I was captivated by it, I just stared. Because it was so incredibly big, in my naivete, I couldn't believe that a boy of his age could have such a large appendage ... but in reality, the last few years had gone by quickly and I guess he was almost a man now.

I didn't know what to say. Somehow, I mumbled the words, "My God, what are you doing, Jeremy?"

"I am just showing you the reaction you have on me," he said, and I realised that he was referring to the obvious blatant stiffness of it, not just the raw size of it that had attracted my undivided attention. I guessed that in comparison to any other male penis I had previously seen, it would have the appearance of being big, whether it was erect or flaccid. I examined it from across the room. I wanted to see it closer, but I didn't dare.

Even as I inwardly wrestled with how to handle this awkward moment, my mind was fleetingly drawn back to the one and only time that I had seen a similar sized penis. It was at the very end of my deteriorating first marriage when I had discovered that my husband was screwing everything in a skirt. He and I were at a party in our neighbourhood and a man that I knew only vaguely from further down our street had been hitting on me all evening.

About 11 o'clock, I began to realise that I hadn't seen my husband in quite a while. Without drawing attention from the other partygoers, I disengaged from the group I was in and began looking around ... in other rooms, outside on the patio.

It was only when I saw my husband reappear, coming from the direction of the bedrooms with a pretty female neighbour walking right behind him, a satisfied grin on her face, that I made an impulsive decision to have this guy who was hitting on me. I walked directly up to him, took his hand, and dragged him into one of the bedrooms where he quickly took over, eagerly stripping me of my clothes before dropping his trousers.

Through the dim light in that dark room late that night, into view came this enormous hard erection. But as I stood now, mesmerised in my bedroom in the middle of this day, staring at Jeremy's impressive hard-on, I was reminded of seeing this one of similar proportions that night at the party. But what did I do that night?

I panicked! I saw this almighty large erect penis ... I had never seen one like it before that night. I was 7 years younger then. The guilt I felt at emulating what my husband was doing to our marriage combined with a sudden fear that this huge penis -- thicker and longer than I had ever experienced - could rip me apart internally. I told the neighbour where to put it, which wasn't going to be in me, and I pulled my clothes back on and fled from the darkened bedroom.

Now, 7 years later, in my own quite brightly lit bedroom, in the middle of the day, with the sun streaming in, I was looking at a youthful replica of the penis that had so scared me that night. But what was different now was that a few days after that night 7 years ago, I discussed my close shave with several girlfriends over lunch. They all -- every single one of them -- told me how stupid I had been, that to have a penis that size was an awe inspiring moment not experienced by all women. They explained how my vagina would have expanded, with very little pain and discomfort, to accept the whole of that mighty penis. They made me feel so stupid, to regret my actions that night, and I swore then and there, at lunch with those girlfriends of mine, that if ever I was faced with the opportunity again to have a king-sized penis, I would welcome it into me eagerly.

But this was a completely different scenario! Jeremy was over 20 years younger than me. The owner of this impressive object was the best friend of my son, a boy who I had watched grow from a toddler through his teen years, and now to manhood ... and what manhood it was. But given the background of our relationship, there was no way I could have sex with Jeremy ... and I had to tell him so -- firmly, and now!

"Mrs. Bradley, are you going to give me a treat and take that off?" Jeremy asked, obviously referring to the half-slip that my fingers were in position to push down over my hips, my thighs, to reveal the intimate lingerie beneath.

"Jeremy, I don't think I should, it wouldn't be right, I could never face your mother again," I tried to reason, but already I knew what I wanted. I had been on heat from the moment I woke this morning, and my husband's cruel rebuff at his office had done nothing to quell my desire. Here was this young man showing me his large virile penis, primed and poised, ready to do what nature had constructed it for.

"My mum will never know, I would never tell her," insisted Jeremy.

As I stared wantonly at young Jeremy's half-naked body standing in the doorway, struggling to reach a logical decision, beyond him I spotted a face peering over Jeremy's shoulder. "I wouldn't tell her either," Kurt's eerie voice added. Now I had an audience of two, this was not going the way that I could be happy with.

"Not him, Jeremy, I don't want him in here, he will have to wait outside. I don't know him, I couldn't reveal myself to him." My God, did I miss it, when had I made up my mind? Those words sounded like I was only dismissing Kurt ... did that mean that Jeremy could stay and watch, and maybe do more?

"Okay!" Jeremy rushed to reassure me as his head spun around to address Kurt, "Get lost, mate, wait outside for us, it's just me and her."

Kurt looked disappointed and reluctant, but I saw his face disappear from behind Jeremy. Wanting to be sure that he had really gone, I told Jeremy, "Come closer and close the door ... this will only be for you, Jeremy."

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byThe Big Bopper© 26 comments/ 647353 views/ 372 favorites

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