Stacey's Mom

Brad Halstead had never heard of the band Fountains of Wayne, but when he heard their song "Stacey's Mom" playing in his teenage daughter's bedroom memories of a wonderful time in his life flooded back.

About fifteen years ago Stacey Keen was his best friend. There weren't many kids their age that lived close by, so they gravitated together much of the time. She was something of a tomboy and they played around the neighborhood together in the long, hot summers of their late teenage years. Stacey had short blonde hair and always wore torn jeans, worn tennis shoes and heavy metal t-shirts. It was easy for people around them to assume that they were dating, but the truth was that they were never romantically involved. It was just something that never happened for them, something they never thought about, until it was too late and they were separated by college campuses a thousand miles apart.

They were a good partnership, shared a dry sense of humor and could spend hours throwing a football or a baseball around the fields of their small town. Stacey had the best arm of any girl Brad ever met, then or since. Stacey and Brad went to the high school prom together, knowing that the evening would be unexciting (compared to what most of our peers had planned and had them believe) but it seemed very, very right for them to go together.

Stacey's mom didn't work and was always around her house, cleaning the kitchen, baking or reading. She wasn't a "coffee mom" and didn't appear to hang out with friends much, but she was always nice to Brad and made sure that both he and Stacey ate well and didn't get up to too much mischief. It didn't dawn on Brad at first, she was his friend's mom after all, but there was no doubting that Marianne Keen was hot.

Marianne was almost forty by then, but she looked at least ten years younger to Brad. She had lush dark hair that was full-bodied and bounced around her shoulders when she moved. Around the house she wore narrow glasses that were way ahead of their years in style, but gave her a very distinctive look back then. Her eyes always struck him as a little sad, but they were passionate eyes that saw everything (as it turned out) and were completely reflective of her personality, more than anyone Brad ever met. Her figure was full, brimming even. It might've been that her hips carried an extra pound (no more than that mind) but her flat tummy and large breasts attracted all of his attention. Her legs, often on show beneath her shorts, were long and fit. Marianne's smile was homely, welcoming and increasingly seductive as he got to know her better.

Brad and Marianne started talking more when they began swapping books. They both read a lot of thrillers and started to swap paperbacks when she sent him away with a handful one day. They would discuss the books a little when they swapped, but never for too long. Stacey was always dragging him somewhere to amuse them both and talking with her mom wasn't going to get that done. Stacey didn't read thrillers.

Brad didn't remember a particular moment when he started to take more notice of Marianne—it was more of a gradual thing. He was also at the age when an extra inch of cleavage or an extra-tight pair of shorts was more noticeable than they had been. Over a period of several weeks he started to notice that Stacey's mom was bending over around him more, and stretching across him more, basically showing more than he was used to in the way of cleavage and ass. He put it down to the fact that he was around more and virtually becoming part of the family. Another thing Brad noticed was the looks she occasionally gave him over the rim of her glasses. He never quite worked out what that look was, but he sure noticed how it made him feel.

Stacey's dad worked for IBM and spent many weeks away from home. These were the days before home working and even cell phones. He provided well for his family, but the house, compared with Brad's family abode, always seemed a little empty. Stacey was the Keen's only child and didn't talk much about either of her parents.

That particular summer Stacey had always planned to visit her grandmother in Des Moines but when her grandmother took ill Stacey was dispatched early to help look after her. Brad was lost, not knowing what to do with himself now that his companion was gone.

He called Marianne a couple of times, asking for news of Stacey but her planned week's stay with her grandmother quickly turned in to two and he could see the summer disappearing in her absence. Things got so boring he even started to drive his little sister around to horse riding events. Yes, looking back, those weeks were a pretty low ebb for Brad.

It was a Thursday evening when Marianne rang. Brad's mother called him to the phone and warned him to be polite talking to Stacey's mom. He shook his head at her—that part of moms never changed.

"Hi Brad," Marianne sounded bright and friendly. "Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had any new books? I'm all out and could use something to read."

The appeal wasn't strange in any way, she was a voracious reader and always interested in what he'd read. "Sure, I have a few you can have. Want me to bring them round?"

"I can drive round collect them if you want."

"No problem. I'll come over." He was bored and any excuse to go out would be good.

"Okay, that would be great." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "If you've finished any of the last lot I gave you, can you bring them too? There were a couple there I hadn't read yet."

Brad gathered up a bunch of books and packed them in a bag, added a few extras for good measure and set off to the Keen's house. They lived on the same side of town as his parents, but their house stood by itself, a half-mile off the road and close to the edge of the forest. It was on a large plot of land that was mostly open lawn.

"Hi." Marianne met Brad at the door. She was wearing her glasses and had on her usual shorts and a powder blue blouse. "Come in. I just took some cookies out of the oven, so your timing is perfect."

Brad laughed and walked into the house. It seemed he was always in time for Marianne's baking and her warm cookies were always welcome, even if it was ninety-five outside. "Nice."

While she poured him some milk and threw some cookies onto a plate Brad unloaded the books onto the kitchen table. He was pleased that he'd managed to find so many in her hour of need. He also noticed that there was a similar pile of paperbacks on a chair, obviously ready for Stacey's mom to swap with him.

They chatted about a few things, Brad got news of Stacey and her grandmother and they swapped notes on books they'd both read. It was dark outside before Brad realized it and we moved on to a second round of milk and cookies.

"What did you think of this?" Marianne pulled one of the books she'd loaned him and handed Brad a beaten up copy of Herman Raucher's "Summer of '42".

Brad recognized the book immediately. He'd read it, but it stood out not only for the story, but the fact that it was unusual for Marianne to read something other than a thriller. "I liked it," he said, immediately feeling his face flush as he recalled the subject matter. "It was well written, very vivid and, I guess, ultimately a little sad."

"Sad?" She looked at him quizzically at first, and then gave him that look over her glasses. "Because Dorothy's husband dies?"

"I guess." He felt the flush continue. "But I meant that they shared that one night, and then never saw each other again."

"I can see that." She nodded knowingly. "You think it's a realistic story?"

Brad ran the storyline through his mind. The book's story was much wider than the night between the adult bereaved woman, Dorothy, and the adolescent Hermie, but that was the part of the book that stuck with everyone, and that was what he knew she was referring to. His heart began to race. This was not the sort of subject matter he was accustomed to discussing with anyone, let alone Stacey's mom.

"I think the story is very realistic," Brad ventured carefully. He didn't want Marianne to misconstrue anything he said. Coincidentally, it was at that moment he noticed her blouse had one more button undone than he'd seen before. "That kind of thing must happen occasionally."

"Yes," she considered, swinging her legs out from under the table and facing him. "I think so too. I like the story a lot. I thought it was so nice that he thought an older woman was attractive enough to lose his virginity to."

"You don't think he took advantage of her?" Brad thought he made a mature point.

"No..." Marianne looked thoughtful. "I think that she was mature enough not to be taken advantage of. She probably recognized the comfort he provided her with, despite his age... and inexperience."

By now Brad was not only flushed, but genuinely excited to be having this discussion with a vivacious and mature woman. He wanted to find some words to continue the discussion, but his mind was starting to think about playing the lead role in the story, but with Marianne instead of Dorothy.

When she changed the subject to another book, he was sure that was the end of it. He thought that maybe Marianne thought they'd taken the discussion too far and it was time to back away. It was with mixed feelings that he offered his opinion on several other books he thought she might like. Brad didn't notice that Marianne had moved around the table, closer to him, to look at the covers of the books as they talked about them.

After a while she idly picked up "Summer of '42" again and waved it a little. "Don't you think she was a bit lonely?" There was that look over her glasses again. It was slaying him now.

"Possibly," he admitted. "You think she was lonely after finding out her husband had died?"

Marianne nodded. "Sure. Hell," she waved around her, drawing a comparison between herself and Dorothy for the first time, "women can get lonely anywhere, anytime."

"I guess." Brad answered lamely, not sure that he wanted to know about any domestic issues she was having. It occurred to him that Marianne may have been alluding to the fact that Stacey was away, but he thought it more likely to be a reference to her absentee husband.

She brushed some hair away from her face, smiled and he noticed she was leaning slightly forward, still with the book in her hand, and offering a great view of her cleavage. Brad looked, unable to resist, and knew that she would have seen his eye line move to her chest. When he looked back Marianne didn't seem to mind, even though he was certain she knew what he'd done. He swallowed, no longer sure of anything.

"I think that must've been a good way for him to lose his virginity." Her voice sounded matter-of-fact, but the undertone was searing hot.

"Why..." he croaked and cleared his throat. "Why's that?"

"Well," Marianne smiled coyly, "a more experienced woman would be confident enough to tell him what to do, and know things that would make the experience better for him, things that a girl his age might not know."

Brad wanted to ask her what things she meant, but his nerve failed. "I'm sure you're right."

Marianne nodded casually and took a drink of the coffee she'd made for herself. She paused a few seconds, seeming to consider him before she asked her next question. "Don't you want to know what kinds of things?"

The air around them crackled now and he felt that some unseen barrier had been broken. Brad had the strangely conflicting feelings that he was now walking on safer ground, but in more dangerous territory. "Yes," he admitted carefully.

"Are you okay with discussing this with me?" she checked.

"Yes, fine." He tried to dismiss her concern, but knew he probably failed to appear as relaxed as he wanted to.

Marianne smiled and edged a little closer. "Well, a boy his age is probably used to masturbating, and coming quickly. It's unlikely he'd have any concept of lasting longer. All boys that age jack off a lot, and quickly, don't they?" She playfully nudged Brad's arm.

"I guess," he admitted reluctantly, thinking to himself that it was almost every day and that he'd be doing that very thing after his visit with her.

"Well, a more experienced woman would teach him that it's better to slow down, play a little and get more from the experience. A young girl would probably lie there and let him just... fuck her." Marianne looked to see if her change of language affected him, but he remained calm. "An experienced woman can judge where a man is... in terms of his coming, and adjust what she's doing to make sure they both get the most out of the experience. Let me give you an example."

Brad nodded, by now almost incapable of words and feeling every nerve in his body screaming with stimulation.

"Well," Marianne considered, "well, why don't I just show you? Do you mind?" Brad thought she made a tiny nod towards his groin but all he could see were her eyes looking at him from above her glasses.

He gulped and said in a strained voice, "No, go ahead."

Her eyes lingered on his for a second and then they switched to the front of his jeans. Marianne slipped off her chair and knelt in front of him. Without hesitation she reached up to his zipper. Brad held his breath as she pulled the zip down and worked the button free. His gaze alternated between her head and his groin, not wanting to miss a moment of what was happening. She reached in the top of his pants and quickly grasped his cock. With her other hand she pulled his clothes away to allow his shaft some freedom. His foreskin was already back and the head completely exposed.

Stacey's mom's hand was in his pants.

"You see..." Brad noticed she didn't even comment on him being fully erect, "an inexperienced girl would probably grab you and do this..." She took hold of him made a few quick pumping motions with her hand, up and down his shaft. "But... a more experienced woman would do this..." She made several longer, slower strokes, twisting her hand as it climbed his shaft and slipping it off the end. There was no doubt which was the better technique.

"What do you think?" She smiled up at him, a mixture of satisfaction and delight.

"I think you're right." She let go of his cock, but made no attempt to put it away. "No doubt about it."

"There are lots of little things like that." Marianne seemed slightly smug now, appearing that she might be enjoying the ultimate tease she was creating—posing as a willing teacher without explicitly offering to teach him everything. "But you probably don't want to learn them from me. You probably want to learn with someone nearer your own age, someone exciting and pretty," she dismissed, backing away from his exposed cock.

"No." Brad said firmly. "I... I think you're beautiful, and very exciting." She smiled at him, seemingly pleased that he'd spoken up. "Would you show me some more?"

"Are you sure?"

Brad nodded.

"Okay then." Marianne stepped closer again, enthusiastically. "Take these off for me." She tugged at the thigh of his jeans.

He kicked off his shoes, stood up and pulled away his jeans and pants. When he looked for instruction, Marianne indicated that he should sit down again.

She knelt in front of him again and brought a hand up to rest against his vertical shaft. "Here are a couple of things." She smiled wickedly this time. "When a young girl's giving head, she'd probably do this." Marianne dipped her head into his lap and took the head of my cock into her mouth. She made a few up and down movements with her head, running her lips along the shaft. To Brad it felt good. It was the first time he'd been in a woman's mouth, something he'd fantasized about for at least two years.

She came off him and looked up. "You see, these things take time to learn, but don't you think this is a bit better?" She went down again, this time kissing the tip and sliding her mouth slowly over him, her lips tight all the way and her mouth a lot wetter than it had been. Brad felt her tongue work on his shaft and the top of her mouth bump against the head of his cock. As she pulled off for the first time she sucked hard, keeping an even pressure as she twisted and ran her tongue along his length. Her hand gripped him and made a sight twisting movement as she settled at the end of his cock. Her tongue ran around the rim and then she slowly pushed her head downwards again. Her mouth felt better than he had ever imagined.

She worked on him for several strokes. Brad was just wondering if the stirrings he felt were the beginnings of a climax when she pulled of and left him freestanding again. "There," she licked her lips. "You feel the difference?"

"Sure do." He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding relieved that he'd not come in her mouth.

"Lots of saliva, that's the trick to that one. Now," she looked down again, "open wide will you."

Brad opened his legs and allowed her better access.

"Let's have a look at those balls." She slipped a hand in and cupped him. "An inexperienced girl would ignore these, and that's a terrible thing." She drew her fingers along his scrotum with a slow and delicate touch. The effect was immediate. Brad's cock twitched and pleasurable sensations ran all around his balls and tummy. "Girls are told that balls are delicate, and they often avoid playing with them. But they are a source of much pleasure, even if treated roughly." She grabbed him and squeezed hard—just hard enough to feel wonderful but not hard enough to hurt. He thought that Marianne sure felt like she knew what she was doing.

"This is best when combined with something else." She started to stroke his cock while squeezing his balls playfully. "Like this, or when you're fucking... from behind, or girl on top work great for that."

Marianne gave a final few strokes and then let go. "So, there you go. Don't let a girl forget your balls. Tell her what works for you. It'll be better for both of you."

Brad's breathing had deepened in the last minute, and he virtually stammered, "Thank you."

"Oh," she grinned, "did I excite you a little too much?"

"I think so," Brad breathed, reaching for his jeans as the lesson appeared to be over for now at least.

"I'm sorry. That's not very fair of me." Marianne screwed her face up. "It's not good to leave a boy in that state, I should've been more careful. Would you like me to..."

He said nothing, but dropped his jeans back to the floor.

Marianne grasped his cock firmly and slid her hand down. Brad's excitement suddenly leapt as this time he knew to expect more than a lesson in handling. She stroked slowly with one hand and scratched her fingernails along his balls with a delectable light pressure. He sat back in the kitchen chair for the first time, reveling in her movements. She looked up at him and gave a bright, knowing smile.

"You have a nice cock you know. Young and hard. It's nice to handle. I like that it's uncircumcised too."

Her strokes were long and made with a firm pressure. She pulled and squeezed his balls, occasionally letting them fall while she ran a hand over his inner thighs and lower abdomen. Brad gasped as she pulled down hard on his cock after a particularly slow descent of her hand. She sensed he was getting closer and slowed down further. Her strokes became the most wonderful torture he could imagine.

"I know you want me to go faster," she whispered, "but believe me, this is better."

He had no option but to believe her for by then she owned his body in a way he'd never imagine a woman could. She started to grasp his balls harder and pause at the end of each stroke when she slid her hand off the end of his cock. Brad felt the pleasure sensations start to bubble over, he muttered something incoherent about coming and the unstoppable rush of orgasm started. Marianne's hand didn't miss a beat and she continued to stroke even as he started to twitch in climax. For a few seconds he thought she'd done something he didn't know about and he wasn't going to ejaculate, but finally he felt the first shot of come explode from his balls.