Mrs. M

MRS. M

In love, my dearest, there is no self-respect.

- Maurice Barres -

Love in Thule -

Mrs. M was sort of a surrogate mother for the kids in the neighborhood. That's what they all called her: Mrs. M., and her husband was known to the neighborhood kids as Mr. M. They had two kids of her own: Alan, Jr., whom everyone called just Junior, and Robert. Junior had turned 18 just six months ago, and Robert would turn 18 in another 6 months, but Robert was already taller than Junior. Since they were so close in age and were only a year apart in school, they had mutual friends: Troy, Stewart, who were also 18. and Jason and Carl were the ones who hung around the most.

They lived in a middle-class neighborhood, and the parents of most of the kids both worked, leaving their kids pretty much alone a lot of the time. Mr. M worked long hours, but Mrs. M was a stay-at-home mother; so the kids in the neighborhood took to hanging around with Junior and Robert at her house since they had been about 11 or 12. They'd mostly show up after school with her kids and play video games and wrestle and joke around, or in the summer, swim in their pool.

Mrs. M treated all of them almost as if they were her own kids. She'd have little celebrations for them on their birthdays, baked them cakes; bandaged scraped knees, hug them when they were sad, congratulated them when they accomplished something to be proud of; many times having them for dinner when their parents had to work late.

Troy had lost his father in a car accident a few years back, and was left alone the most because his mother had to work long hours to support them, so Troy subsequently spent more time at Mrs. M's. He also was Mrs. M's favorite. He wasn't the best looking kid; he had a big mouth, and he wore his hair long like a girl's. In fact, if you were to take a picture of Mrs. M and him together, their red, curly hair was almost the same length and cut in a similar style. Troy was always laughing and kidding around. He always had a witty comeback for everything, but was never sarcastic. He never seemed to take anything seriously, yet got the best grades in school and had his life planned out at a young age. So also, at about the age of 12, he began wisecracking and bantering back and forth with Mrs. M. But he would also talk to her as if he were older, about subjects more of an adult nature, about his dreams, his aspirations. He declared he was going to go to the Air Force Academy and become a Jet Pilot.

One evening, he said to her: "You know, Mrs. M., I've decided that when I grow up, I'm going to marry you."

Mrs. M., taking the remark as a joke, replied, "Really, Troy? But I've already got a husband whom I am very much in love with."

"Yeah, at present, that does create a little problem," he said.

"What do you think we should do about that?" she asked.

"You'll just have to divorce him."

"But I love him, Troy, and I'll never divorce him."

"Well, he's old, so maybe we just wait for him to die."

"He's not old, Troy, he's only 39. And I don't want him to die; I'd be very lonely and sad if he died, so I hope he doesn't die for a very long time."

"Hmm. I guess then I'll have to do some serious thinking about that."

"Be sure to let me know what you come up with, Okay?"

And the subject was dropped and never came up again.

***

Mr. M left for work each morning at about 7:30 and didn't return home till between 9 and 10 in the evening. Mrs. M would cook dinner for herself and Mr. M and the kids, then wrap Mr. M.'s in cellophane and put it in the fridge and warm it up for him in the microwave when he got home. They would then have a drink together and talk about their day and whatever was going on in their lives. On Saturdays, however, he arrived home between 5 and 6 pm. and they and the kids would have dinner together. Sunday mornings Mr. M cleaned the pool and cut the lawn, the rest of the day was 'family day.' No kids from the neighborhood in the pool, just Mr. and Mrs. M and Junior and Robert.

That was when the kids were young. In their middle- and upper-teens, they were allowed to just enter the side gate and use the pool whenever they wanted, as long as they obeyed the rules. No horse-play, no diving in the shallow end, no running around, no glass containers. And they obeyed the rules. No one wanted to get on Mrs. M.'s wrong side and be banned or give up her cookies and cakes and parties. So, even on Sundays in the summer, the house and pool area were filled with teenagers. Those who were dating began bringing their girl friends around.

Sometimes, on Saturday evenings, when the boys didn't have dates, and they got tired of video games, the kids would all sit at the kitchen table and play penny-ante poker. Many times even Mr. and Mrs. M would join them. In fact, Mr. and Mrs. M furnished the pennies. They kept a large jar filled with pennies just for that purpose. At the start of the games, everyone would be doled out a certain amount of pennies with which to play, and at the end of the evening all the pennies would be returned to the jar, so that no one ever won or lost anything. The games were played only for bragging rights.

When the kids were out on dates or whatever else they might be doing on Saturday nights, leaving Mr. & Mrs. M alone, they drank together and danced or maybe, went skinny-dipping together in the pool. The yard was surrounded by an 8' fence, so there was plenty of privacy.

One Saturday night, Mr. and Mrs. M were cuddled together after a heavy session of love-making, Mr. M said, "You know, that kid Troy has one gigantic crush on you."

"Don't be silly," she answered. "He's just a kid."

"He may be, but that doesn't mean he can't have a crush. I remember when I was that age, I had a friend, Roger, whose mother every kid in the neighborhood had a crush on. We all thought she was hot. If I were to bet, I'd bet that every one of them masturbated just thinking about her."

"But why would any of these kids think that about me? I don't dress sexy in any way, I usually have on baggy jeans and some old wrinkled, ugly shirt. And they are all friend of our sons, and I am twice their age. Why would you even think that?"

"Pay attention next time. He follows your around everywhere you go. He helps you clear the table. If you even mention wanting something, he jumps up and gets it for you. And when he's not following you around physically, he follows you wherever you go with his eyes. He's got it bad. And I'd bet he's home masturbating right now thinking about you."

"That's a terrible thought. How could you say such a thing? These are all such nice, well-behaved boys. None of them could ever be like that. Don't ever say such things again."

He said no more. He fell quickly asleep in her arms. She, on the other hand, could not get what he had told her out of her mind. The thought of a boy half her age thinking that way about her, after all, was kind of flattering. Thinking about it was giving her a tingling in her groin, even though she had just been very sexually satisfied. She finally fell asleep with a smile on her face.

She never again thought of Troy in the same way as she had previously. More and more the thought of his wanting her crowded into her head and brought on an unexpected, but not unpleasant, sense of arousal.

***

One evening the boys were all sitting around sharing a pizza, talking about their upcoming senior prom, and what girl they were going to ask. Every one of them had a date lined up except Troy and Carl. For Carl it was understandable. He was shy and probably a little slow. He just sort of hung around with the others and never seemed to want any more than that. Troy, on the other hand, was a puzzle.

"Why not?" Junior asked him.

"I don't know how to dance, and I can't ask a girl to the prom and then not dance. How would I explain that? She would laugh at me."

"My mother taught Robert and me to dance. Why don't you ask her if she'd teach you? In fact, I'll ask her for you.

"Hey, mom, would you teach Troy to dance so he can go to the prom?"

"I guess I could give him a couple of lessons. C'mon Troy, let's go to the den."

Part of the den was uncarpeted, which Mr. and Mrs. M used to dance with each other and where she had taught her boys. She now led Troy there, with the rest of the boys following. Junior turned on some music and they began. She had to start wit the basics: how to hold your partner, where to put the hands, etc. At first he had two left feet, but he was a fast learner and once he got the hang of it, he progressed quickly.

Three straight evenings she taught him. She always made sure she kept her distance from him, never letting him get too close to her, whether a slow or a fast dance. And Troy was always a perfect gentleman, never attempting more than she allowed him. He finally asked a girl at school to the prom, and she accepted.

And prom night was a great success for everyone and they couldn't stop talking about it for a whole week afterward. And Mrs. M rubbed her hand though Troy's hair and told him how proud of him she was.

***

Troy's 19^th birthday was about three weeks after they graduated. Of course he celebrated with his own family that weekend, but Mrs. M had a little celebration for him the following Friday evening. She baked a cake, they ordered in pizza.

Mrs. M also did something she had never done before for one of these celebrations. Instead of jeans and an old shirt, she wore a skirt. Nothing sexy, just conservative skirt and a blouse with a vest, the vest made of a soft fabric matching her skirt, something a 38-year-old housewife would wear out to dinner with her husband. She also did her hair, put on light makeup and lipstick, which she never wore at home, painted her nails, even painted her toe nails. She wore clogs, though, as there was a no-shoes rule in the house. She wore a necklace and a bracelet. Why did she want to get dressed up so? She did it unconsciously and if asked would not be able to tell why.

Junior and Robert were there, of course, and they brought dates with them; and Troy, and Jason, and Stewart, and Carl. Troy and Carl were dateless. With Carl again it was understandable. Troy, again, was a puzzle.

"Where's your girl?" Mrs. M asked troy."

"I told you a long time ago, Mrs. M. I'm saving myself for you."

"Very funny, but I also told you there's no chance. I'm married and in love with my husband. So you need to find somebody your own age."

"But nobody my age appeals to me like you do, Mrs. M."

"Well get over it, Troy."

After they finished their pizza and cake, Robert suggested they try the new entertainment center that just opened on the mall. "They've got a new bowling alley; we could go bowling."

One of the girls piped up: "We're not dressed for bowling. You're not planning on going without us, are you?"

Junior said, "Of course not. Why don't we drive you girls home to change, and then we'll come back and get Troy and Carl?"

All agreed, and they left, leaving Troy and Carl.

***

"I want to thank you again for teaching me to dance, Mrs. M. The prom was great. My date even showed me some more moves. Could I show them to you?"

"Sure, Troy. I'm always interested in learning something new."

So they went to the den, leaving Carl sitting at the kitchen table.

"Fast or slow?" she asked Troy.

"Put on something slow first," he answered

So she put on something slow they could dance to.

While dancing, "How was your birthday, Troy? Did you take in a nice haul?"

"I did pretty good. My mom got me some shirts and underwear, my uncles each got me a new video game.

They were dancing just as she had shown him, separated and apart.

"The best part though, was I got accepted into he Air Force Academy."

"That's great, Troy. I know how hard you've worked for that."

"Yeah, I've been writing my congressman every month, sending him my grade report, and telling him how much it would mean to me; and I finally got my appointment. I leave for Colorado Springs on August 15."

"That's great, Troy. I'm really proud of you. So you got everything you wanted then?"

"Not everything. What I wanted most, I didn't get. But I'm still holding out hoping I will get it soon."

"Oh, really. What's that?"

He suddenly dropped both hands to her ass and pulled her tight into him. He was rock hard and drove his hardness into her "You, Mrs. M. I want you. I've wanted you since I can remember. Wouldn't you like to give yourself to me now?"

She was so shocked she froze; she just stood there in his arms for a moment, allowing him to grind himself into her.

She finally gathered the strength to push him away. She was now flustered and angry. And conflicted. Mentally, she did not want any of this. But physically her body was responding in ways she couldn't understand. There was a tingling in her groin.

She felt weak. All she could do was berate him in a quiet voice: "What's gotten into you, Troy? Why are you suddenly acting this way? You've got to stop this right now." And she started walking back to the kitchen.

"Sorry, Mrs. M.," he said. But he didn't look sorry. He looked very satisfied at what he had got accomplished.

He caught up to her just as she reached the kitchen. She was already over her mad. "Okay, but just behave yourself now."

He pulled his phone out and tossed it to Carl. "Here," he said, "how about taking a picture of me and Mrs. M in front of what's left of the birthday cake?"

"Sure, okay," Carl answered, holding up the phone toward them.

Troy put his arm around Mrs. M's waist and pulled her toward him. They stood, side by side, their hips and shoulders touching, and each moved heir heads over so that they were touching each other also.

But just as the flash was going off, Troy's right hand went down to her ass and his left hand grabbed her right tit.

She tried to push him away, but by doing so she had to turn toward him, and when her face faced him, he tried to kiss her.

She managed to pull away and push him away so that he didn't get to kiss her. But the camera showed his hand on her tit and it looked very much like they were kissing. The picture looked quite intimate.

"Let me see that," Troy said as he grabbed the phone from Carl. He held up the phone showing the picture to the other two.

"Erase that right now!" Mrs. M shouted at him.

"No, I think I'll keep this as a memento."

"You can't be showing that around, Troy. You erase that right now!"

"And what are you going to do if I don't?"

She grabbed for the phone. "Give me the phone. I'll erase it myself."

But he moved it out of the way before she could grab it.

She reached again; he moved it again. She kept grabbing for it, but he kept moving it out of her reach. When she moved toward him to try to grab it, he stepped back and eluded her. He kept walking backwards with her following him, trying to grab the phone, he eluding her, until they reached the den. He backed up until he couldn't back up any more—his back hit the wall. He stuck the phone in his front pocket.

"You want it, go in and get it," he told her.

"I'm not going to stick my hand in your pocket. Just give me the damn phone," she told him as she held out her outstretched arm with her palm up.

He reached out and grabbed her arm and spun her around so that her back was against the wall. Then he moved into her so that she was pinned, so that she could not move, his crotch digging inter hers. He moved in to kiss her.

She turned her head away. "Troy, you've got to stop this. What are you trying to do? This cannot turn out good for you. Carl is in the other room and the boys are due back any moment. Now let me go!"

He stood for a second, then stepped back, turned and walked back to the kitchen.

"Oh God," she thought. "I almost succumbed. What am I going to do?" It was surprisingly exciting and the tingling in her groin had turned into an ache and she could feel herself getting wet. She needed to figure out a way to shut it down. She could think of nothing that would not create larger problems.

Just then, the front door swung open. The kids were back. Her problem was solved.—Temporarily.

When they all left, she wrapped up the leftover pizza and the leftover cake and put them in the fridge for her husband. She then fixed herself a drink and sat down at the kitchen table to think about what had just happened. If I ban him from coming over any more, how do I explain it? Junior and Robert will surely want an explanation, and a plausible one at that. And Alan—if I tell him the truth, he'll kill the kid.

She was in the middle of her second drink, when the doorbell rang. "Maybe the kids forgot something and didn't have their key," she thought.

When she opened the door, Troy pushed his way by her, turned, forced his body against hers, forcing her against the door until it closed. He now had her pinned between his body and the door. He held her hands down so she couldn't push him away. She could feel his hardness against her crotch.

"I love you Mrs. M. I've loved you since I can remember. And I've got to have you. And I felt when I was up against you before you want me too," he told her.

Oh my god his body feels good against me. That ache in my groin is back. Is he going to kiss me? Will I let him? Should I? No! I've got to stop this. "Troy, Hon, let me go, please! I know how you feel, but let's go into the den and talk about it. Please!" she said pleadingly.

He reluctantly stepped back, letting her pass. She took him by the hand and led him to the den and sat him on the couch.

She sat beside him; took his hands in hers. "Why now, all of a sudden, Troy? Why, after all this time, are you being so out of character now? It isn't like you at all. What's going on?"

"I'll be going away to the Academy in a couple of months, and the military will be taking all my time; so I have to tell you now how much I love you and want you or I may never get another chance."

"But what you feel is not love, Troy; it's just infatuation, which you'll get over. You'll find some young girl your own age and really fall in love; and you'll soon forget all about me."

"It's not just infatuation. And I don't want anyone else. I want to make you mine for always."

"But I'm married, Troy, and I'm about twice your age. You're just a boy and really don't know what love is yet."

His eyes narrowed and his face got red: "I am not a boy! I am a man! I can go to war, I can vote, I can go into a bar and buy a drink" and he brought her hand down to his crotch and held it there. He was rock hard. "Feel this, Mrs. M. That's not a boy's cock. That belongs to a man."

He held her hand there, would not let her move it away. But she was not too quick to try to move it away either. He noticed. "See, you like it too, don't you?"

She finally was able to pull her hand away. "I sympathize with you, Hon, and my body may have unwittingly responded, but believe me, please, I do not want this." Her voice was now low and pleading. "You've got to stop, Troy; please stop."

"No! I don't want to stop. And you don't really want me to stop."

Troy, you are going to make me angry now. Stop this this instant or I won't ever let you back in this house. You have to leave now."

"Okay Mrs. M. I don't want to make you angry. I'll go. But before I go could I at least get a Happy Birthday kiss?"

"If I give you a kiss, you promise you'll quit all this nonsense and leave and won't bring it up again?"

"I promise Mrs. M."

"Okay then." And she reached and gave him a light peck on the lips.

"What was that?' he asked. "That's the kind of kiss my aunts give me when they come over. I want a real birthday kiss."

She opened her mouth to respond to him, but before she could say anything he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him and kissed her, kissed her hard and passionately.