My Best Friend's Mother

A quick scene which I now plan to add to and then publish [paid, elsewhere]. I thought I'd put it up on Lit as an offering for readers. Take it as you find it. There will be typos and errors because this is just off the keyboard. I'm going to alter it to the third-person, change a name, and put some more filth into it. Anyway, it is what it is. I hope you enjoy it.

I've disabled votes but left comments open on this. I'd be interested in feedback -- as long as it's beyond the mindless, trolling, "You suck," variety. I'll just delete any of that bullshit as it pops up. So, if you want to waste your time...

The names are made-up, but Sessay [Annette's surname] is a small village in North Yorkshire. I have no real idea why I used it in this context. *shrug*

Anyway, so, here it is.

GA -- Cambridgeshire, UK -- 3rd October 21

"Stay. Keep me company. I'd like that," she said.

I couldn't make up my mind. I wanted to stay because I liked looking at her while her elegant maturity intimidated me into a shuffling buffoon with no conversational skills.

"I'm on my own," Mrs Sessay added as she stepped back a pace.

She gestured with the sweep of one hand, inviting me in with a smile.

I felt the trembling start in my legs as sexual attraction flared within.

"A few minutes," she said, one eyebrow an arch of inquiry. "Cup of tea, or there's beer...?"

The rush of desire for Mrs Sessay's body set my hands shaking as well, the wobble there in my voice when I made an excuse.

"Oh, Jordan, you're blushing," Mrs Sessay said.

The heat burned in my cheeks while chagrin squeezed my guts. It was as much humiliation as I could take.

"I can't," I said, turning to leave. "Sorry."

I was on the bottom step when she called out.

"Could you just do me a favour before you rush off?"

I paused and looked back. Mrs Sessay was standing at the front door. She was wearing tight, faded jeans, one fist on her hip, head canted towards one shoulder, chestnut-brown hair in a ponytail. I liked looking at Mrs Sessay's hair, the fantasy sometimes playing in my head where I had my fingers in there, savouring the full, thick texture as I dared to kiss her mouth. Her lips were another focus for my attention because, while Mrs Sessay's hair had a heavy, rosy tint, her lipstick preference was all about fire-engine red. She was striking to look at: tall in high heels, feminine shape obvious in those jeans and snug, white tee-shirt, modest, pudding-sized boobs pointing at me.

Longing was a visceral squeeze as I looked at her, cock twitching with interest as I took in the whole wonderful image of a very desirable woman. It was more than her looks. Mrs Sessay had a certain demeanour, an attitude of constant wry amusement. There was something feline in it. Cruelty for the fun of it. Like she enjoyed teasing. Like there was pleasure in my discomfort.

"You're a big, strong chap," Mrs Sessay said through a smirk. "Could you just help me with a box from the attic?"

Which is how I came to be on the third floor landing with Mrs Sessay a few moments later, head full of confusion because she was standing so close I could feel the pressure of her hip against mine.

"It's lucky for me you rang the bell," Mrs Sessay said as she looked up to the attic trapdoor.

She set her attention on me, the burning in my cheeks glowing hotter because I knew she'd just caught me gawking at where the tee-shirt was pulled tight over her breasts.

"I couldn't possibly get up the ladder in these shoes," she went on. "And there's probably spiders up there."

Then Mrs Sessay frowned and set her fists on her hips.

"All right, Jordan, listen," she started.

The look she gave me sent a leaden sinker of worry plummeting into the pit of my stomach. It felt like a heavy drag deep in my guts, the same feeling I'd experienced when I was in trouble for something.

"I know I'm Terry's mum," Mrs Sessay said as I swallowed on the rising anxiety. "But, well, it's not so awful if you've been... well, attracted to me I suppose I'm trying to say."

Mrs Sessay sighed, tutted, and rolled her eyes as I started to babble.

"Jordan, no," she said, cutting me off with one raised palm. "You don't have to apologise."

"But--" I said before Mrs Sessay snapped at me.

"Just listen," she said, stern and insistent. "Good," she added when I mumbled I was sorry. "You're always so shy around me," Mrs Sessay continued. "Stammering, blushing..."

"I... I know. I can't help it," I said.

She put a hand on my shoulder and moved directly in front of me.

"I understand, Jordan," Mrs Sessay said, gentle and through a soft smile. "But I'm trying to clear the air. I'm just saying you don't have to be shy or awkward if it's just the two of us. I've got an idea about what it is that bothers you. I mean, I'm not so cocky or arrogant to assume..."

Mrs Sessay paused, eyes wide as she studied my face, flawless brow corrugated by a frown.

Then, after a sigh, Mrs Sessay said: "Listen, Jordan, am I right in thinking you might, well, fancy me a little bit?"

I couldn't drag my eyes from hers. Mrs Sessay was looking at me with such intensity her gaze held me trapped.

"It's all right," she murmured after I nodded. "You don't have to feel bad about it."

"You're Terry's mum," I blurted.

"And you feel guilty for that?"

I managed to break the intense hold Mrs Sessay had on me with her eyes.

"Well, yeah," I said with a half-shrug.

I heard her sigh, the fingers on my shoulder squeezing a little.

"That's entirely understandable," Mrs Sessay said. "It's actually commendable if you ask me. Shows integrity, Jordan."

I looked at my training shoes as I shrugged again.

"You're a nice boy," Mrs Sessay murmured. "Very likeable. You're not gobby and full of old bollocks like some of Terry's mates."

She was looking at me through a smile when I set my attention back to her face.

"I thought Terry was home," I said.

Mrs Sessay frowned again.

"Why would you say that?"

I shook my head.

"Uh, so you know I didn't just come round. You know, to sort of catch you on your own and that. Terry said to be here at three. I don't know what's happened."

"I didn't think you came round to catch me on my own. I didn't think anything, Jordan."

"Sorry," I said.

"Look, how about we just pop into the bedroom...?"

Mrs Sessay took her hand off my shoulder and pointed towards the door at the end of the short hallway.

"We can sit down and be comfy. We could talk. Sort all of it out."

I glanced to the attic trapdoor above.

"What about that box?"

Mrs Sessay crinkled her nose at me.

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's not urgent. I think it's more important you and I get ourselves straight."

"Mrs Sessay--" I said before she cut me off again.

"Annette," she told me through another smile. "You're grown up now, Jordan. You can call me by name."

It felt uncomfortable to call her Annette. Too familiar. It wasn't the way I'd been raised, calling her Annette seemed a bit weird.

"Nonsense," she said when I blurted I thought it was time for me to leave.

Annette Sessay gave me a look, head tilted towards one shoulder, lips a moue of disapproval to match her expression.

"Just come and sit down," she said as she moved away. "Come along, Jordan," she added.

Conditioned by upbringing to respect an authority figure, the stern tone in Annette's command took me in her wake, the bed dipping beneath our combined weight when we sat on its foot.

"So, you and Terry have been friends for..."

Annette paused, eyes towards the ceiling as she calculated how many years had passed since she and her husband had moved into the three-storey townhouse. The husband was gone. Annette was divorced, had been for at least ten years if my own recollections were correct. There's four months between Terry and me. He has a sister, Marina, two years older than us. Marina was in her final year at uni in Manchester, a very pretty twenty-three-year-old I'd tugged my dick to hundreds of times. Marina was the first girl I'd ever fingered, in fact.

"God, it must be nineteen years," Annette said on a gasp. "Bloody hell, where's the time gone?"

It must have been a rhetorical question because Annette chuckled and shrugged.

Then she asked: "I suppose he's your best friend?"

I nodded but didn't say anything.

"Which is why you feel guilty? You know, for sort of fancying me?"

Annette said it with mischief sparkling behind her eyes. I got the sense she was teasing me, having a little fun at my expense as I squirmed and felt the fucking fire burn in my cheeks again.

"It's all right to fancy me, Jordan," she said as she put one hand on my leg. "I'm forty-nine now. Being fanciable is something I'll take as a compliment."

With the embarrassment on me, and disconcerted by Annette's hand on my thigh, I looked at her and asked: "Can I just go now?"

Annette held my attention with her green-eyed, hypnotic gaze.

"Mm, I'd like you to stay," she murmured.

Tension wound tight inside me as my scalp prickled, an odd sense she was going to kiss me a slithering notion at the back of my mind.

"We can talk," Annette went on, soft and lulling. "I'd like to be friends. Not just 'Terry's mum'".

The weight of my hanging jaw was a dim sensation as I stared at Annette. I knew I was gawping, mouth open, face like the idiot loose from his village, the scarlet lipstick a magnet for my eyes.

"You're lovely," I heard myself sigh.

"I'm not with a man at the moment," Annette said through a sigh of her own. "I mean, I'm not seeing anyone."

I heard her say it but was too busy wondering why I'd said what I had. I felt foolish for telling Annette she was lovely, chagrin snaking through me while my tortured cheeks continued to burn.

I wasn't thinking too clearly when Annette said: "Am I right that you don't have a girlfriend?"

For some reason Marina popped into my thoughts as I shook my head, confusion tumbling inside my head.

Then I was boggling at Annette, sure I'd misheard what she said next.

"I said I wouldn't mind if we started to see each other," Annette told me. "Quid pro quo if you like. Something for our mutual benefit."

"Uh, I don't understand," I said, gurgling it out through the shock.

Annette sighed and pulled a face. "Sex, Jordan. That's what I mean. Fucking," she finished.

It was a cliché, the lead-in to countless porn scenes where the mature, elegant cougar pounces, the reality of it astounding as Annette emphasised her statement by running her hand along my thigh, the pressure against my cock as she gave a squeeze.

I gulped in wide-eyed surprise, nodding while gurgling something inarticulate after Annette said: "Jordan, are you already hard?"

Then we were kissing, or rather Annette was pressing her lips against mine, her tongue pushing into my mouth while the shock of it all hit me like a physical blow.

Annette's eyes were huge and round as she stared at me after a few seconds of the attempted kiss.

I couldn't understand her meaning when she gasped and urgent: "Would you like to fuck me?"

Time turned elastic as reality slewed.

"God, Jordan, please don't tell me I've got it all wrong," Annette said through an expression of anguished concern.

Annette was staring at me, brow furrowed by worry as she pulled her hand away from the ridge in my jeans.

"Fuck, I'm a silly old woman," she gasped. "I've gone and made a right idiot of myself. Jordan, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking properly. Please, I'm sorry."

It was the agitation in her voice and the expression I saw on her face which worked on my more than the near unbelievable offer of sex. When I saw the anxious shift in Annette's face, I shook my head, sucking in a deep gulp of air before I spoke.

"No, Mrs Sessay," I said, blurting it out. "You haven't got it wrong... It's just... Well, I didn't expect you to say something like that. You're Terry's mum... You're really nice... I mean sexy and everything..."

Annette looked at me for several seconds, lower lip between her teeth until she sighed and nodded and the tension drained from her shoulders.

A flicker of smile worked at her lips before she asked: "So I haven't made a mistake? You think I'm sexy?"

Lust bubbled inside me as my heart started to race.

"Oh yeah," I drawled, not with desire. "The way you dress... Your hair... It's everything about you, Mrs Sessay," I finished with a near moan.

"Calling me Mrs Sessay makes me feel all pervy, Jordan," Annette told me. "In a really naughty, dirty sort of way, I mean. It's like I'm corrupting you. Teacher and pupil or somebody like your boss. I have to say, it's making me absolutely soaking wet."

As she said it, Annette leaned in, eyes showing delight as she smiled and pressed her hand against my cock again.

"If you want to fuck me, Jordan," she said through a sigh. "Now's your chance. I'm absolutely choking to get a hard cock inside me. I'm so-fucking-frustrated. I need the sex. I've been wanking a lot lately. Thinking about you. This isn't just a spur of the moment thing. There's no box in the attic. Not really. That was just to get you up here."

Annette let it all out as she squeezed my hard-on through my jeans. Excitement surged through me, dark urges pushing me past caring about causing offence or propriety.

"I wanna fuck you," I growled, lunging for Annette's breasts.

"Uh-huh, then that's what we'll do," Annette replied a moment before our first proper kiss.

I tugged the tee-shirt out of her jeans, a hand going under to get to her breasts. I groaned when I felt the spongy-firm texture, gasping desire into Annette's open mouth as passion burned hotter.

"I want to touch your cock," Annette said when the kiss broke. "Get it out. Show me," she added, tone full of urgency.

I stood up and worked the belt, button, and zip, jeans falling loose as Annette helped them down by grabbing and yanking.

She chuckled when my erection sprang free. Annette reached out and curled her fingers around the shaft, grinning into my face before she set her focus on the jib.

She stroked the length and asked: "If I suck it will it come in my mouth? You're so excited, Jordan, I'm worried you'll come on my face if I suck this thing."

"It'll be all right," I said through a gasp.

Truth was it was a fifty-fifty thing. It was entirely possible I'd lose control and splash Annette with cum but I just wanted to see her sicking my cock. I was in that place where I'd say anything, make every promise, to escalate the sex.

"You better not spunk in my hair," Annette warned as she looked into my eyes. "I'll be cross, Jordan. I'll be even angrier if you come too soon and then lose this erection."

"Oh, it'll stay hard," I said on a growl, emboldened by lust.

Annette's hand worked over my length, the sensations sweet through the root.

"You're young, I bet you can fuck all night."

"With you, for sure," I moaned.

Then I stared in awe as she pursed her lips over the swollen bulb.

***

My best friend's mother slurped and glommed at my cock. She held the shaft and licked me from balls to the tip, sucking the dome when she reached the zenith, eyes locking with mine. As she grinned at me from around her mouthful of male appendage, Annette winked in a lascivious gesture, her hand wanking me down near my balls.

The enthusiasm and expertise she put into the act brought a gasp out of me. She slobbered and licked, painting her cheeks and forehead with gooey pre-cum, showing off with a filthy vocabulary superior to any porn I'd ever seen.

Annette smirked, hand slowly slipping up-and-down my size when I moaned out: "You're fantastic. I didn't know you would be so..."

Annette teased the banjo string on the underside f my dick with her tongue. Then she said: "What didn't you know?"

"The things you said," I said through clenched teeth as she wanked me with more vigorous action.

"Sometimes I just feel so dirty. Slutty. It's not always that way. I can be gentle and loving. And I might show you very soon. But, yes, today...? With you? Like this? I'm in a filthy-fucking-mood."

"I love it," I said on a sigh.

Annette chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Oh, I expect you do. I know you dirty little fuckers watch those videos."

That made me pause because I wondered how much she actually knew about that.

"Perhaps I look at those things as well," Annette said before she swirled her tongue around the cockhead. "And I'm forty-nine, Jordan. I've learned a few things in my time. Not all of it from the mucky things on the internet."

It was surprising to know her age. I had a vague notion Annette was up there because my mother had celebrated her fiftieth the previous year. It stood to reason Annette would be around the same mark. It was just I'd never made the connection before.

"You're hot," I said, comparing her to my mum.

"Divorce can do that," she said, slowly caressing my size. "When I got thrown aside for someone with a tight arse and perky boobs... well, it prompted me into taking care of myself."

On a surge of confidence, I reached down and pulled the tee-shirt up to expose Annette's breasts.

"Ah, fuck, you're gorgeous," I moaned, eyes on her uptilted nipples. "Yuh-you've got a great body."

"And this is a lovely cock," Annette said through a grin. "What say you put it inside me? How about that? Fancy a nice little fuck?"

Annette said it as she moved off the bed. Then she stood in front of me, cock in her underhand grip while she kissed me and I went back to squeezing her breasts.

"Your nipples," I groaned.

"Mm, I've had some comments over the years," Annette replied.

I held her boobs with both hands, thumbs at the undercurve, pincers of my fingers around the circumference while I stared at the puffy areolae and elongated teats.

Annette mumbled something I could make out when I ducked in to suck them.

"You're lovely," I breathed when I cam off her breasts.

"You can tell me that again and again," Annette said through a smile.

I let go of her when she stepped back, fingers on her jeans as she unsnapped the button.

"Awkward with these shoes on," she said as she unzipped. "Can't get the jeans off with taking the shoes off first."

By then I was gawking at her vulva, tiny thong underwear going down to her knees with the jeans. Annette was hairless down there, skin smooth, little fold peeping from between the fleshy outer lips. As I gawked in delight and surprise, Annette yanked the tee-short over her head, hair cascading over her shoulders, the ponytail barely holding the dense mass in check.

My eyes travelled along Annette's feminine shape on their way to her face.

She grinned and posed and asked: "Will I do?"

"Fucking hell," I sighed, cranking my dick.

"I'll take that as a yes," Annette said after a tut. "And leave that alone." She slapped a hand at my wrist. "You get too excited it'll be two pumps and a squirt. Don't disappoint me, Jorden. I don't want to have to finish off with my dildo again."

She grinned when I gasped out: "Dildo?"

"If you're a good boy I might let you watch me wanking with it. It's got a suction-cup thingy on it. I use it in the shower, on the mirror on my wardrobe in my bedroom. I've had it stuck to the fridge in the kitchen before..."

That put all kinds of images into my head: Annette Sessay backing onto a suction-cup dildo in the shower; on her hands and knees taking it in doggy against the mirror...

Then she treated me to the glorious sight of her on the bed. She was on all fours, the jeans at her shins, high heels aimed my way while she looked back over one shoulder and invited me to her with a grin and uptilted pelvis. Annette thrust her bottom back, reaching over to hold herself open, buttocks parting so her labia peeled apart with tacky reluctance, sphincter winking from its hiding place above the scarlet gape of her cunt.