No Patience for High Standards Pt. 01

"Well... get out!" she screamed at him, baffled at his rudeness. "I'm busy!"

Playing dumb, as if he hadn't noticed that she was showering, it was only at this statement that he glanced over his shoulder at Rachel. He met her annoyed gaze for a moment before letting his eyes flick down, trying to sneak a peek of her soaked naked flesh. He'd have to settle for an obscured view through the frosted, steamy glass, but Rachel played it safe by covering her gigantic breasts with her arm and using her other hand to cover her pussy. He couldn't see anything, but the languid, confident stare he took of her body was nonetheless effective, sending an illicit thrill through her despite herself. Her body was so desperate for attention that such a shameless act by her own son still got to her.

"Oh... sorry!" he replied, still playing dumb, turning to face her, he left his own bare chest on display, the front of him even more impressive than the back. She couldn't help but notice his pecs... his sculpted abs, the deep-V leading her eyes downward to what was hidden behind that towel...

"Get out!" she repeated impatiently.

This was the first occasion of him doing this, but it wasn't the last. She would scream out at him every time, and he would always leave when told to... eventually. Sometimes, he'd appear in front of the mirror without her noticing, forcing her to scope out the scene before exiting. Other times, she was not in the mood to get so worked up, merely waiting till she was done before loudly announcing: "Leave!"

She couldn't get a moment's peace from this wicked game they were playing. Her favorite form of relaxation used to be lying by the pool, working on her tan, letting her flesh bake to perfection in the sun. She enjoyed the ritual of it, getting changed, grabbing a book and a cool drink, sashaying into the heat. She had a bunch of sexy, skimpy bikinis that she would cycle through, and she always enjoyed getting dressed up in very little.

But not anymore.

Knowing her son would delight in the sight of seeing her body clad in a bikini was almost enough for her to swear it off forever. But she didn't want him to get his way. She loved it too much to stop. But now, every time she tried to lay out by the pool, he'd appear... to either swim, or fire up the grill, or simply find some chore to do. The moment would soon be ruined for the hot blonde mom, forcing her to wear swimwear that showed less skin, giving him less naked flesh to gaze upon, therefore giving him less reason to be around her. On top of that, she just didn't do it as often. While her creamy flesh still looked amazing, it missed the pop it would have if she had a great tan.

This is what she meant when she said it felt like the walls were closing in on her a bit. He was imposing himself into her life more and more while still keeping his hands clean, not crossing lines but approaching them. Taking the wind out of her sails of any form of relaxation she could have, forcing her to think about the big, giant THING hanging in the air between them at all times, letting the tension wear at her more and more. If this was a battle of wills between the two, he was playing the slow game. Not trying to bludgeon her into defeat, but trying to starve her out. Put the pressure on her without firing a shot.

And he was winning.

Not that she was being convinced to give in to him, but working in the sense that he was getting to her, forcing her to think about his offer, affecting her behavior in the process. She was changing her lifestyle to work around him, and in doing so was only choking herself off from what she needed. Her inability to relax only added to her stress, making her more and more horny. And the dating scene being an absolute wasteland only made it worse. She to rely on herself to get some pressure relief, which was fucking hard to do when doing so under the din of her son fucking some slut down the hall. Because as much as she tried, her mind kept trying to combine these two inputs into one. As her son dicked down some nameless little tramp, and Rachel drove a big thick dildo into herself, it was hard to prevent her fantasy to eliminate the extraneous shit and collapse into its most simplified form:

Jason and Rachel having sex.

As soon as it did, her logical mind revolted. The moment would be ruined for the hot mom, but Jason would keep trucking along, plowing some slut until he got his pleasure. She'd be left a tangle of nerves, and he'd sleep soundly.

It took her too long to try things like noise-cancelling headphones while she pleasured herself, but it was too late. The mere knowledge of what was happening down the hall was usually enough to spoil the moment. All the headphones helped her do was sleep. But besides... the toys barely worked on her anyway. The itch inside her needed the human element to be scratched... she needed a big, thick cock to get off, leaving her toys to become effectively useless. She could get little o's, enough to keep her sane... but the big O's remained elusive. That's what her body was craving, and the longer this dry streak kept going, the more she felt the pressure building up. And it was affecting her.

She started dreaming about it. About... him. Sex dreams with Jason. Not every night, just every so often. They weren't always the most coherent narratives, but the images conjured within stuck with her into her waking life. From something as relatively tame as her and her son sitting across from each other at a restaurant, relaxed and smiling, a superior date to any she'd been on lately... to something as unholy as seeing him above her, pinning her down into her bed, the mom staring up into her son's bare, muscular, sweaty chest as he drilled her just as thoroughly as he boasted he would. Of course, she could feel none of the action, but in her mind... it was VERY good. In one dream, she'd been convinced to finally pose nude for him, Jason taking pictures of her naked form. In another, she imagined walking into a room and seeing a new picture hanging on his wall, Jason clad as a shirtless conqueror on the edge of a cliff, and Rachel on her knees, clinging to one of his legs, looking up at him as if he were a god. And in the dream she remembered thinking how accurate this was.

One dream was them having a knock-down, drag out battle with each other that inevitably ended with her defeated and great sex then happening. In another, she was wearing a maid's outfit, waiting on him hand and foot. In one, they were carrying on an otherwise normal conversation in the kitchen with her wearing skimpy lingerie. And there was one with her waiting in the shower, looking through the frosted glass, sensing an imposing figure approaching, an inevitability she could not escape. Her only choice was to give in. He occupied so much of her attention during the day that him invading her dreams seemed inevitable, but it still pissed her off. Luckily, her mind was limited by what she'd already seen of him, so she wasn't seeing any parts of him that she hadn't seen. That being said, there was some part of her that just knew what was there, and her behavior within the dream followed that thinking.

And unfortunately, her waking consciousness was doing its best to fill in the blanks of her unconscious mind.

Her body began to disobey her.

She hated to admit it, but... she'd caught herself checking him out more and more. You had to understand... she was so FUCKING horny she couldn't think straight. Her eyes began drifting. It didn't help that Jason wasn't exactly shy. She found herself looking at his shirtless form as he worked out in the garage, his chest covered in sweat, his muscles straining, his golden tan only adding to the impressive sight. He could lift her up into his arms and throw her around without a sweat...

Another time, she was making coffee in the morning before work when he stumbled downstairs, half-awake, seeking a glass of ice water before returning to his room. But as he did this, he was wearing only a pair of tight boxer-briefs. Rachel hated that she found herself checking out his cute, shapely butt. She hated that she'd clocked the very, VERY sizable bulge coming from his crotch. She tried to tell herself he stuffed his shorts in order to appear more impressive, but her mind could not shake the image of what she'd seen, thinking about it the rest of the day, fearing that such a thing was exactly what she needed to scratch that fucking itch.

There was also the time when he was pulling himself out of the pool, and the water was glistening as it cascaded down that sculpted torso of his. And his trunks were heavy with water, and the way they clung to him as he used all those muscles to pull himself out of the pool left little mystery to what he was packing down there. She really tried to shake that image from her brain, tell herself that what she saw was a trick of the light, but she couldn't stop thinking about it.

In moments like that, she had to punish herself in her own way, vent those wayward thoughts by working out, jogging, really pushing herself and making her body burn, hoping to distract herself. Her body craved being sweaty one way or another, and this path didn't involve getting drilled by her son's big dick, so it seemed the optimal method. And she had to divert her mind and body a lot; Rachel was probably the only person on the planet disappointed to be in the best shape of their life. Her belly was flat, her legs had never looked better, and her ass was unreal.

And the best part of being so fucking trim was that it made her boobs look even more massive than they already were. For better or worse, she never seemed to lose weight from her breasts. Some women would view her GG tits as far more than enough, and would probably settle for even half of what she had, with the remainder being excessive. But Rachel always embraced being among the tier of women who could be slim and in shape and also have really big tits, and she was never one to reject such blessings. She never once wished they were a little smaller, or that they were too much of an impediment. She was happy to have big boobs, and she was happy that she didn't lose even the slightest amount of size even as the rest of her got even more taut and slim.

Being so fucking horny, combined with being so fucking proud of her perfect body... it began to affect her decision making, even outside the sphere of home. While still maintaining a sense of decorum at work, her outfits got a little skimpier. Her skirts got shorter, her tops a little tighter, and she began showing a little more skin. Not just more of her incredible legs, but she also started showing a bit of juicy cleavage. For a woman who prided herself on her professionalism, this was a shocking change. And even though it was technically against the dress code, no one was complaining. She'd kept the goods under wraps for so long that no one was about to stop her once she finally began to loosen up and show a little skin. Nor were they about to discourage her when she was coming to work in skirts so tight that they were absolutely painted on her firm, juicy cheeks... to the degree where you could surmise that she was wearing thongs every day due to lack of a visible panty-line. (This was true... she'd taken to wearing extremely sexy underwear every day, sacrificing ease and comfort for the chance to vent some of those lustful feelings in even the slightest manner.) The evolution in her outfits had certainly been noticed, but she got away with it simply because she was so fucking hot. She'd sold some major multi-million-dollar properties over the last few months alone, so what she was doing was working. And the clients weren't complaining, so her bosses weren't about to change a thing.

Even in her private moments, her behavior had become warped by her all-consuming need for sex. Before all this, when she was in her car, she'd opt for low-key listening, typically something like NPR or one of her favorite podcasts. Now, she listened to music... not the low-key stuff, or even the music she liked when she was younger. No, no, no... what she was listening to now was potent, hardcore sex music... songs that were explicitly about sex, or music that just made her think about fucking. There wasn't so much of that when she was younger, but these days she could fill up her phone with that shit. It was a lot of hip hop, lady rappers being up-front and very detailed about the type of fucking they needed. There was stuff from that all-girl singing group, whose seemingly wholesome, pop friendly appearance contrasted strikingly with the adult nature of their music. There was some older Yvonne stuff... the albums they couldn't sell in stores back in the day due to their level of filth in an otherwise conservative time. While her previous albums all had an undercurrent of sex... these albums brought that shit to the forefront, explicitly and naked talking about sex of all types. One of the albums was from the period-of-time she really ramped up the sexuality fashion-wise, the pop diva spending thousands upon thousands of dollars in order to dress like a total slut in a manner only the fashion icon could. Another album was from the period she was exclusively dating other women... not exactly Rachel's bag, but the music hit the mom's sexed-up brain just right.

It was all gonna reach a boiling point sooner or later, she knew that. She couldn't go on like this forever. She needed some way to get that itch inside her scratched, and soon, or... she didn't even want to consider any alternatives. She needed something soon because she was so tensed up and on edge that it couldn't possibly be good for her health and wellness.

Luckily for her... there was hope!

She'd met a guy, an actual, honest-to-God prospect. His name was Robby... he was a year older than her, and very cute. He was an executive for the local football team, and he'd been part of the group she'd met with when working on the payment logistics on behalf of some big rookie player to buy a beachside house. Maybe it was the no-bullshit attitude she'd developed lately due to lack of sex, but he'd responded positively to her pitch, leading to him asking her out. He was tall, and fit, a former athlete whose career had been cut short due to injuries. He was still fit, and although his hair had some grey in it, he still seemed to have a level of energy and... stamina... that Rachel was looking for.

They'd gone on a couple dates, and it had gone well so far. Despite her desperation, she still had enough pride to not just give it away on the first date. With how things were going lately, she was almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. But so far, he'd been a perfect gentleman to the point of seeming content to not rush into anything. She might have scared him off if she jumped his bones right away like she wanted to.

But tonight was the night. Third date, they were going out to a really nice vineyard that had some truly incredible food. It was one of her favorite places, and she didn't even have to suggest it. They were on the same wavelength, and that was the best news she'd had in a while. As long as he didn't blow it for some unforeseen reason, sex was practically a guarantee tonight. She didn't want to throw all her eggs in one basket, and she didn't want to build expectations too high in terms of what to expect from him, but she was optimistic about how he would be in the bedroom. Everything he was doing was pinging correct for her so far, and she couldn't stop herself from preparing for sex for the first time in what felt like ever. She left work early to get primped and prodded, making sure everything was in order for what hopefully be a very fulfilling evening. Her nails were on-point, and she paid a lot of money for that. And her pussy was smooth and bare, ready to be seen.

Even Jason couldn't ruin her mood. As soon as she got back to the house, he sauntered in from the back, a towel on his waist, his fit muscular chest exposed, running his hand back through his wet hair as he walked in barefoot, having clearly just been swimming.

"Hey!" he called out all friendly-like, as if his offer hadn't tormented her for years now. "What are you in the mood for tonight?" he said, referring to dinner as they met in the kitchen.

"Nothing you can provide," she snapped back with a mocking smile. He laughed internally and nodded, appreciating the comeback. "I'm going out tonight. You'll have to take care of yourself... hopefully," she replied, really hoping this would be one of his off-nights where he didn't have some booty-call coming over. And indeed, she was right.

"Seems like I am," he confirmed. "I've got some work stuff I have to knock out, so yeah... I'll be on that after I, uh... make dinner for one, apparently." She turned to face him, smirking.

"Are you gonna need some help making dinner?" she asked in a mocking voice. "Do you want me to cook up some hot dogs, and chop them up for you, and make you some mac and cheese?"

"That'd be nice, actually," he responded genuinely with a smile and a shrug. She rolled her eyes, resisting a grin.

"Well, you'll have to take care of it on your own," she stated. "Perhaps this'll be the rare night I get luckier than you," she replied with a confident smirk, giving him another kiss-off line. Again, he took it well, smiling and nodding.

"Hot date?" he inquired.

"Hope so..." she responded.

"Alright!" he replied positively, as if not bothered in the slightest that his plan may fail and some other man might get to her first and get the job done. "Well... good luck tonight!" She rolled her eyes at him and walked away, not giving her son the chance to get in her head. And he didn't even try, busying himself and staying out of her way. Could he actually be genuinely rooting for her? No, he was too smart for that. This had to be some angle of his... some next level of game that she hadn't quite cracked just yet.

An hour later, she was cleaned up and ready to go. She was so confident that she'd busted out her favorite black dress, wearing it for the first time since... since the night a few years back that began with a disastrous date and ended with her son making that damn offer. But it was time to change her luck. Stifle out bad omens and turn it all around.

In addition, she was wearing her best matching black heels, really showcasing her taut bare legs and fantastic ass, her rear end looking even better than it was the last time this material hugged her body. Underneath the figure-hugging dress, she had on a tiny, thin, black lace thong, and a matching bra that barely held her giant boobs back.

Checking herself in the mirror, she looked damn near perfect. The only adjustment she made was to tug down at her neckline, making it a little less tasteful and little more forward. She wanted Robby to know that sex was very much on the table today, and he pretty much had to do the bare minimum to get her to snap open her legs for him.

Ready to go, her heels clicking on the floor as she moved, she sauntered downstairs. She was surprised not to see Jason ready to take a look at her all dolled up, but she wasn't about to spit in the face of a good thing. It was for the best... after all the shit he pulled, she was pleased that he wasn't gonna get to see her at her best. Last time he saw her in this dress... he offered to fuck her. In line with breaking out of these bad cycles, she took it as a good sign that he wouldn't get to see her dressed up like this again. That being said, she was nonetheless caught off guard by this lack of interruption, pausing for a moment, wondering if there was some master plan he had at work here. But seeing nothing coming, she moved on quickly, grabbing her purse and heading out of the house before that could change.