Jennifer's Secret

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Erotican
Erotican
12 Followers

For a brief moment she visualizes herself sitting up on the bar, legs spread apart, masturbating directly in front of the group. She sees their faces, unblinking and locked on her movements as her fingers reach between her thighs, down over her neatly trimmed mound, pulling her pink petals open, gently touching a finger to her engorged button - slowly teasing them until their tight jeans become painfully uncomfortable, bulging with seeping wet spots in their underwear.

Jen swirls the remaining wine in front of her for a few turns before suddenly jerking upright in the stool. She quickly leans forward to put the glass down on the bar. Feigning a spill, she runs a hand down across her front, brushing away the imagined wet spot. The hand slides down firmly over the fabric, smoothing the material to her curves - making the pronouncement of her erect nipples even more obvious. Grabbing at the opening of her shirt she then begins to fan the material in a drying motion, practically uncovering the entire breast with each wave. A gasp is heard from one of the nearby men as she continues her play acting. Still avoiding eye contact with the men, Jen flashes a smile of satisfaction as the cleanup of her invisible spill is slowly completed.

Finally prepared to end her show with a fanfare, Jen uncrosses her legs and reaches forward for her purse. She places the bag on the edge of the bar and rummages inside. Continuing to dig into the purse she slowly swivels in her stool - positioning her knees towards her onlookers. Jen pulls the bag closer to look inside while parting her legs. The sudden sensation of cool air against her steamy crotch confirms her visibility.

With her wallet finally in hand, she then partially un-mounts the barstool – extending one foot to the floor while the other remains atop the footrest. The stepping position tugs her skirt diagonally, revealing her garter straps, and her lack of panties. The boys obviously don't miss their opportunity. Jen is instantly rewarded with the sound of low groans and a few discernable comments. "Holy shit, did you see..." Looking up, she catches their approving stares and flashes them a sexy smile before pulling out several bills.

She drops the money on the bar and turns to her fans before departing. She scans their eager faces one last time. "Have a nice night, boys" she tell them. And with a wink she turns to walk out of the bar.

Jen takes a couple of steps before "accidentally" dropping her keys on the floor. In an almost too obvious gesture, she bends at the waist to retrieve the keys, giving the men a clear view of her exposed bottom.

Jen hears the hand-slapping, wolf whistles, and muffled comments of approval as she leaves with a broad smile and a noticeable bounce of confidence in her walk.

Chapter Two

Sunlight peers through the bedroom window as Jen awakens to see John standing in his underwear, shaving in the nearby master bathroom. Still miffed about the date night, she decides to remain silent and pretends to be sleeping.

John hadn't arrived home until after eleven o'clock, and was visibly exhausted. Jen was already in bed as he quickly undressed and meekly apologized before climbing in beside her. He kissed Jen on the cheek and casually mentioned something about having to "go back in early in the morning." The routine had become so familiar to Jen she didn't feel the need to utter a response. Instead she rolled over and listened to John quickly fall asleep. There were no questions about how her evening went, or promises to make it up to her. It was a fitting end to a frustrating evening.

Earlier last night, while waiting for her husband, Jen debated the wisdom of telling him about her escapades. She was convinced he would find her telling of the story highly erotic, not to mention a probable lead-in to a heated love making session. She desperately needed to release some of her sexual energy, and was still hopeful that John would be eager to oblige her. But the fire of the fantasy was abruptly extinguished by John's late arrival, his fatigue, and his uncaring silence. Jen decided then and there she would never share the tale of her adventures. He just didn't seem to be a part of her excitement any longer, and she now was determined to keep the sexy memory to herself.

Now lying motionless as John prepares for work, Jen sneaks a peek to watch his movements as he dresses and quietly leaves the bedroom. She listens for the familiar jingle of car keys, followed by the low rumble of the garage door.

Jen Holsten is alone, again.

The sunlight from the bedroom window washes across the bed, warming the blankets to an uncomfortable level. Jen's clothes from the prior night lay in a pile on the bedroom floor – John's favorite garter is plainly visible. Kicking to pull free from the covers, Jen huffs loudly and stares at the ceiling as the rays of sunshine paint across her body. Her thoughts drift back to the young men at the bar, and a tickling sensation rolls through her loins. Jen arches her back to stretch as her lips pull into half-yawn and half-smile. Lifting herself from the bed she mumbles "okay, horny lady, get your butt out of bed".

Jen pours herself a partial cup of coffee and pads barefoot out onto the deck. Only nine o'clock in the morning and the thermometer measures 75 degrees. "Perfect" she says to herself. Clad only in a tee-shirt and panties, she sits the cup on the railing and pulls the shirt up over her head to remove it completely. Dragging the chaise lounger to face the sun, she lays the shirt flat against the back of the chair, and sits down.

Jen enjoys her coffee and admires the expansive view of the neighboring hills in the morning sunshine. The air is incredibly clear and the view is noticeably detailed. The only sounds are the gentle rustlings of the trees and the constant song of the birds hidden in the foliage. In the peacefulness of the moment and the warmth of the morning sun, Jen closes her eyes and slowly drifts into daydreaming.

Once again, Jen's thoughts return to the Country Inn. She pictures the scene in the bar, working the images through her mind. The attractive young men practically drooling as they work to find the best view of her exposed flesh. Yes, they were actually quite good looking, Jen remembers. She pictures their faces, seeing flashes of their wide-eyed stares, their boyish smiles and strong youthful frames – full of energy. She remembers her gushing excitement, the gentle movements of her own hand tracing across her thighs and primping the exposed garter snaps as they watched. She envisions the rise of their discomfort, their penises growing with excitement for her, straining against the captivity of their clothing – filling with blood until throbbing in response to her sexy show. She feels their eyes hungrily fixed upon her every move as her thoughts begin to mix memory into fantasy. Details intensify, becoming even more erotic. The men move closer to her position. A hand reaches between her legs to touch her exposed sex. She quickly grabs the man by the wrist, only inches from her crotch. Another hand reaches for her unbuttoned blouse, but is quickly blocked by her free hand. Some patrons in the restaurant begin to stare while others move about to gain a better view. There are suddenly more hands reaching, groping, rubbing, and prodding her from all sides. She sees herself beginning to lose control of the situation. Her wrists are suddenly grabbed from each side, pulling her hands back - forcing them against someone behind, holding them tightly against the unmistakable bulge in his jeans. She gasps loudly, and forms her fingers around the outline of the unseen cock as her legs are suddenly pulled apart, almost knocking her from the barstool. Another man aggressively pushes forward and begins digging his outstretched hand into her exposed crotch, rubbing heavily into the perimeter of her slippery folds until grasping tightly onto her protruding vulva.

"Mom!!"

Jen jerks awake from her erotic trance at the sound of her familiar calling. Removing her hand from her mound, Jen bolts from the recliner and frantically pulls at her panties which had been pushed down to mid-thigh.

"Mom... are you here?!?" Jen hears the calling of her son Ben from inside the house as she quickly moves away from direct view of the doorway. She wrestles with the shirt, finally pulling it over her head and down across her body as quickly as possible.

"Out here!" she finally answers.

Seconds later Ben appears at the opened French door. Jen sees that he is not alone.

"Benjamin, what are you doing home today?"

"Hey mom, this is Brad. I forgot to tell you that I listed my old guitar amp on Craigslist last week. He wanted to come take a look."

Jen smiles and offers a quick wave to Brad. Attempting to cover up the best she can, Jen stands with an arm crossed in front of her chest holding her empty coffee cup. Knowing that her shirt is not quite long enough to completely hide the pink of her panties, she leans forward slightly to lengthen the front as much as possible.

"Hang on a second, man. I'll go and get it" Ben says to Brad as he turns to go to his bedroom.

"You should have called to let me know you were coming, Benjamin. I could have gotten it out for you!" Jen calls through the doorway. But as soon as she finishes the statement she realizes the transparency of her complaint. It was an obvious sign of guilt, a self-conscious "how dare you" over the possibility that she could have been caught masturbating by her own son. Nervously standing here half-naked in her private sanctuary, really, how could he just barge in, unannounced?

Jen stands motionless for an awkward few seconds waiting for the young man to follow Ben. Instead he moves towards the open door and comes into view. Jen's face instantly flushes as she immediately recognizes him as one of the four young men at The Country. And through his knowing smile she is certain that he also recognizes her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am", Brad says extending his hand.

The offer of a handshake forces Jen to uncover her shirt as she switches the coffee cup to her left hand. "It's Jen" she replies as she reaches forward and takes his hand. Her nervousness prevents her from holding eye contact for very long, but Brad does not take his attention from Jen's predicament.

"What a beautiful view" Brad says as he continues forward and steps past Jen and out onto the decking. Jen doesn't miss the fact that the young man was not looking out at the scenery as he offered the compliment. In fact, he was clearly looking at her as he spoke while circling her position.

"This must be a great place to sunbathe" he continues.

Jen can feel the redness burning in her face. His forward demeanor is too obvious, and far too familiar for her comfort. She suddenly feels as though this stranger knows exactly what she was doing out here on the deck, and she becomes overwhelmed with embarrassment. Jen offers an abrupt "excuse me" and turns to head into the house. Brad sees the full flash of her pink bottom as she darts through the opened door and into the house towards her bedroom. Jen closes the bedroom door behind her and rushes into the adjoining bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror she turns on the faucet and stares at her reflection. She is visibly trembling.

Jen waits until the sounds of the guitar riffs have been silenced. Another twenty minutes pass before the thud of the front door is heard, and Jen finally emerges from the bedroom – this time, fully dressed. Ben and his potential customer are nowhere in sight. She moves into the kitchen and finds a note on the table.

Mom,

Didn't make the sale.

Brad said he might stop back.

Talk to you soon.

- Ben

Chapter Three

By Monday afternoon Jen had returned to her routine at work, and the craziness from the weekend began to pass. She and John had spent most of the day together on Sunday working around the property, pruning trees and cleaning the deck. After showering they sat together in the family room and watched part of a movie on television before John fell asleep on the couch. All in all things seemed to be getting back to normal.

Jen typically worked about 30 hours per week at the Physical Therapy office. Her light schedule allowed her to get home by three o'clock on most days. When the boys were still at home this extra hour or two in the afternoon was often spent running for groceries, shopping, laundry, cleaning, or some other family related chore. Now it was more of a godsend. Jen could exercise, read, or just sit and relax before starting on dinner. Since John almost never got home before six this daily respite became a peaceful escape from the day-to-day pressures of her world.

It is now Monday afternoon, and Jen is arriving home from work. As she pulls into the driveway her attention is diverted by a colorful flash at the front of the house. Stopping just short of the garage she turns to see a pink paper secured to the front door. She parks the car and quickly heads to the front of the house to retrieve a bright pink flyer which has been stuck in the door jam. She opens the folded paper to read a hand-written message.

Liked what I saw

Stopped by to take another look

- Brad

The note includes a phone number on the reverse side.

The message immediately angers Jen, and she crumbles the paper in her hands. "Just who the hell does this guy think he is? I have a little harmless fun in a public bar one night and he automatically thinks he has a shot with me? Unbelievable!"

Jen stuffs the paper into her purse before entering the house. Still huffing loudly, she heads to the bedroom to change clothes. She dresses into a pair of shorts and a sports bra, and then laces up her running shoes before heading to the treadmill in the family room. Jen turns on the television, flips to an afternoon talk show, and then starts running.

Jen's anger fuels one of her best workouts in weeks. "Pink paper... real subtle. You should have brought a camera with you, asshole." She barely slows down as she rolls through a 40-minute run replete with similar comments of indignation and an occasional disapproving head shake.

Paying little attention to the television, Jen is infuriated by the overt innuendo of the note. Her mind churns with disgust over the blatant disregard for her marriage. But as a middle-aged woman she cannot deny a hint of shameless pride hidden below the surface of her rage. She soon begins to question whether a part of her anger is, in fact, directed at her own feelings of self-gratification in being the object of a younger man's lust. As was true in the bar on Friday night, she is undeniably flattered at the thought of enticing a man half her age. Really, who wouldn't be satisfied to receive confirmation that you "still got it"? The concept seems repulsive, and yet, alluring, and Jen's thoughts of resentment become tangled with pangs of curiosity. These "what-if?" whisperings continue to distract her throughout dinner and the rest of the evening. They also prevent her from permanently disposing of the pink note.

The rest of the week is uneventful – with the exception of Jen's daily inspection of the front door. Although she never seriously considers calling the phone number listed on the note, each afternoon she finds herself nervously approaching the house on her return from work, as if expecting to find another paper stuck to the door - or possibly even the young man waiting in the driveway. She hurriedly fetches the mail, and on her way back to the house inspects all around the front door (just in case something fell off). Back inside she quickly checks the answering machine for messages. After only a few days of this obsessive routine (which was downplayed in Jen's mind as a mere precaution), she begins to consciously admit to a sense of disappointment. Apparently, being the object of someone's desire (even if inappropriate) is not as satisfying once the chase is abandoned, and the almost constant state of giddy arousal which Jen enjoyed throughout these nervous days, finally subsides. Days later she finally throws away the crumpled pink paper.

With the approach of Halloween the weather finally turns cold. Jen tries to convince John to plan for a night of dress-up and bar-hopping on the spooky night. But John will have no part of the plan. He reminds Jen that Halloween is on Monday this year and he is scheduled to fly to Dallas early the following morning. Besides, the boys are both expected to make a trip home for the weekend. Jen reluctantly drops her plans.

Jeremy and Benjamin arrive on Saturday morning and Jen spends the afternoon helping the boys with laundry. Ben is arguing with Jen regarding her suggestion of part-time employment during the semester.

"I just don't have that kind of time right now, Mom" says Ben.

"You have time for everything else, Benjamin. What are you planning on doing for spending money the rest of the semester?"

"Hey, that reminds me, Mom. That guy Brad e-mailed me again this week about my amp. He said he left a note here about stopping out to look at it again. Did you get it?" Ben asks.

Jen stumbles with an answer, trying to maintain her composure while continuing to fold clothes. "Note?"

"Yeah, he said something about leaving a note for you on the front door."

Ben leaves the conversation and quickly disappears through the foyer. Not at all comfortable with lying to her son, Jen tries to act uninterested and continues with the laundry. She hears the front door opening and then slamming seconds later. An instant of panic arises as Jen worries if she has missed something.

"Nothing", Ben says as he returns. "I'll reply back and give him the house number. Be looking for his call, Mom. I really need the cash."

"Mmm, hmm" Jen replies without looking up.

The swirling thoughts return.

Chapter Four

Brad Jennings is a twenty-seven year old auto mechanic working for a local Dodge dealership in town. He is nearly six feet two, with short-cropped sandy brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a winning smile – all set atop a solid athletic frame. Brad was engaged to a young girl in a nearby college town until a few months ago when he (and his friends) decided he was not really ready to settle down with just one chick. Although some of the guys were approaching thirty, they were all fighting hard against "giving in" and becoming responsible adults. Brad is their acknowledged ring-leader, and he almost lost it.

Those who know Brad would quickly tell you that women have always been attracted to him. His friends are continually amazed at how readily girls avail themselves to his charms. No matter where they would go, without fail it seemed, before the evening was done Brad would have some nice looking girl eating out of his hand. He was like a chick magnet. The guy just didn't seem to have a care in the world, and his good looks and confidence invited attention, sure enough. But his unending fortunes in being at the right place at the right time seemed uncanny. It was the same that night the guys hung out at The Country. The whole gang couldn't stop talking about the sexy cougar sitting at the bar on that crazy Friday night. She seemed to be begging for attention. Brad was the one who first saw her, and it was obvious that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Everyone half expected him to chase after her when she abruptly left, but he didn't. Brad Jennings never needed to chase after women. And now, somehow that lucky son of a bitch had found out where she lived.

He wanted her from the first moment he saw her seated at the bar. He suspected she was probably older than she looked, and yes, he had noticed the ring on her hand. She had a sophisticated, yet sassy look about her. He was first drawn to her silky dark hair and pretty face – sort of reminiscent of a Valerie Bertinelli look-alike. But her playful performance that night only intensified his desire. Her tight, sexy body (and the fact that she was alone) made the whole package irresistible. She toyed with them like a lady who clearly recognized what sex-appeal was all about. The other guys saw an older woman teasing some stupid young boys. Brad saw something more. He recognized unfulfilled passion and playful desire in the woman's eyes, and he desperately wanted to explore his observations further.

Erotican
Erotican
12 Followers