Mrs. Robertson

Billy was in a bad mood. He had decided against going to school that morning. It had looked like being a beautiful, early Spring day and he had decided there were better things he could be doing. He had, the previous week, turned eighteen years old and he would be leaving the place altogether in a couple of short months, so surely it was his decision, and missing one crappy day could hardly prove disastrous, could it? His father, however, had other ideas. He had eventually accepted Billy's decision not to attend classes, but subsequently decided the large vegetable patch he would soon be planting in was in urgent need of digging. He made it quite clear what he expected to have been achieved by the time he returned home that evening.

His parents therefore gone to work and his younger brother to school, Billy turned on the TV and moped. He didn't even know what he was pretending to watch, all he could think of was how his entire day had been wasted by his father's unreasonable demands. As lunchtime approached and still he lazed around, he came to the reluctant decision that he was going to have to get started on his horrendous chore if he had any chance of being finished by the time of his father's return. He changed into an old pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and trainers and set off to the garden shed in search of a spade.

His rate of progress was good, his anger and frustration at his father actually serving him well in his task, and he was considerably more than half-way through the job when he heard Mrs Robertson's back door opening and saw her tottering carefully down the steps on her high heels, a large plastic bag in her hand. His next-door neighbour had long since held a great fascination for Billy, the indisputable number one subject in his varied host of erotic fantasies. She always dressed in above the knee skirts, black stockings or tights and tight tops, which emphasised her large and magnificent breasts. She had long, tinted blonde hair, which always seemed to Billy slightly messed up, as though she hadn't brushed it since getting out of bed, and she took great care to enhance her natural beauty with a careful application of make-up. He knew that she was at least forty-six, as she was older than his forty-five year old mother - who had often mentioned this fact during many a disapproving rant upon her neighbour's dress-sense - but for Billy this somehow only intensified her appeal and alluring sexuality. He also knew that she worked part-time, mornings only, as a receptionist at a local doctor's surgery.

Mrs Robertson had almost reached the large dustbin at the corner of her house when she stumbled slightly and although she herself appeared to be okay, the bag she had been carrying slipped from her grasp and spilled most of its contents on to the path. Quick as a flash, Billy dropped his spade and hurried to vault the low fence between their properties.

"Let me get that for you, Mrs Robertson," he shouted, even as she stooped to begin the clean-up process. "Don't get your good clothes in a mess."

"Thank you, Billy," she said, smiling her incredible, white-toothed smile at him as he approached, causing his heart to skip a beat. He noticed that her lipstick today was a deep shade of red and he couldn't help but imagine kissing those fantastic, glistening lips and just what an incredible experience it would be. "I don't know what happened there!"

Billy knelt down to start shoving the assorted household rubbish back into the black bag. As he was doing so, she was stood only perhaps three feet in front of him and he tried as discreetly as possible to admire her shapely calves. Had he not been doing so, he may have noticed the dribble of milk escaping from what had looked like an empty carton from the inattentive corner of his eye, and avoided squirting the substantial remaining contents of same all over the front of his sweatshirt and jeans, as far down as his knees. The stench of sour milk quickly assailed his nostrils.

"Oh, dear," Mrs Robertson exclaimed. "Look at the mess you're in!"

"It's all right," Billy was quick to reassure her, embarrassed by his stupidity, now concentrating fully on cramming all the assorted rubbish back into the bag. "These are old clothes anyway." He grabbed the two corners of the bag and securely tied it closed, before depositing it safely in the large bin.

"Come in to the kitchen and we can sponge that mess of you," Mrs Robertson told him. "We can't have you going back to your mother like that."

"It'll be fine," Billy argued, annoyed by her mention of his mother as though he were some sort of child, but even more annoyed with himself at actually knocking back the opportunity to get into Mrs Robertson's house, alone with her!

"Nonsense," she told him, firmly. "It won't take a minute to get you cleaned up." She took him lightly by the upper arm and gently steered him towards her open back door, then up the steps and into the kitchen. She immediately began running water into a basin in the sink and fetched what looked like a clean cloth from a nearby cupboard.

"It might be better if you take your top off, Billy," she told him. "I'll be able to sponge it much easier that way."

Crazily, the words, "I will if you will," sprang into Billy's mind, but to his immediate relief, that is precisely where they stayed. Instead, only a little self-consciously, he tugged his sweatshirt over his head, and stood naked from the waist up in Mrs Robertson's kitchen, just her and him and no-one else! He handed her the top, wordlessly, and she began dabbing at it with the wet cloth.

"Stinks a bit, doesn't it?" she said, wrinkling her nose distastefully. "I don't know how that carton got stuck out of sight like that at the back of the fridge."

Billy didn't know either, nor did he care - he was simply so, so glad that it had!

"Right, I think that takes care of that," she said, holding his shirt up to the sunlight for careful inspection. "Now, what about your jeans?"

For a moment, Billy thought she was going to ask him to remove them as well, but instead, she knelt on one knee before him and began dabbing at his upper thighs with her cloth. This was not like any scenario Billy had ever envisaged between them, and he couldn't believe how uncomfortable he felt, but to his mounting horror, he quickly realised the appendage between his legs was experiencing no such inhibitions and rising beautifully to the occasion. Even through the fabric of his jeans, Mrs Robertson could not fail to notice likewise.

"Why, Billy Arnott!" she exclaimed, now openly staring at his growing bulge. "I'm old enough to be your mother!" She looked up at him then, still on her knees, her expression a curious mixture of surprise, amusement and something else Billy couldn't quite define.

"I don't care if you don't," Billy blurted out before he could stop himself. He couldn't believe he had just said that, but then he figured that as he was bound to wake up in his own bed, alone, with a raging hard-on at any second, he might as well enjoy the dream while it lasted!

"You don't care if I don't..." she whispered, looking astounded and at a complete loss as to what she should do next, but then she did something totally unexpected: she reached out and slowly began unbuttoning Billy's jeans. "Well, in that case, if embarrassment's not going to be a problem for you, we might as well clean these properly, too."

Billy couldn't move; he couldn't speak. She soon had his fly unbuttoned and began easing his jeans down over his hips, all the way to the floor. He realised then that he would have to remove his trainers if she were to get them off altogether, but Mrs Robertson had already focused her attention on his boxer-shorts, slipping them down too to allow his cock to spring forth in all its raging glory.

"My, my," she breathed, huskily, sounding impressed to Billy. "What an incredible cock for such a young man!" Then she was wiping it with the warm cloth, cleaning away the vestiges of sour milk that had seeped through his clothing. Her touch was gentle, incredibly erotic, along the length of his shaft, down and around his heavy balls, and Billy knew that before very much longer she was going to have another mess to clean up if matters continued to proceed as they were so doing.

"Mrs Robertson...I think I'm going to -" he panted, but she shooshed him and, unbelievably, leaned forward to slip the end of his cock between her soft red lips. Billy couldn't believe the sensations that were coursing through him as she slowly took him deeper into her hot wet mouth. He knew he was going to cum at any second and he concentrated as hard as he could on not doing so, but it was no use. The familiar sensation welled up in him and he shuddered as he shot his full salty load deep into her mouth.

Mrs Robertson let out a soft, gagging moan, more of surprise than anything else, Billy thought, but she didn't flag in her attentions. She kept on sucking on him, sucking him dry, he thought, as he felt his incredible climax begin to subside.

Eventually, she let his now flaccid cock slip from between her lips and slowly got to her feet. "Well, Billy, that was quite unexpected, but delicious. Thank you." He couldn't believe she was actually thanking him, after what had just been the most incredible experience he had ever had in his entire life! "But I think you should be getting off home now. My husband's coming home early today as we are going to a dinner party tonight. We wouldn't want him walking in on this little scene, now would we?"

"No!" Billy was mortified. Mr Robertson was a hulking brute of a man and he certainly didn't want his perfect afternoon to end with him being punched over the garden fence and probably a good deal further beyond. He hurriedly began tugging up his shorts and jeans then snatched his top from where she had lain it on the draining-board.

"Come and see me very soon, Billy," Mrs Robertson was saying as he turned to leave, "and we can...talk about what happened here." She winked at him - he felt he was twelve feet tall!

"I will, Mrs Robertson," he said, already half-way down the steps. "I promise I will. And thank you!"

As he climbed back over the fence to resume his digging, Billy knew one thing for sure: he was going to no bloody school tomorrow!