Will Has His Way

Dawn Masters sat in the shade of her screened-in porch as she watched Will push the high-powered mower across a new strip of lush grass in her back yard. She gazed dreamily at the young man, shirtless now, lean muscles rippling across his back, glistening with beads of perspiration. He was moving the mower with seemingly little effort through the thick growth - she wondered if she should have called him over sooner to mow, it was nearly two weeks overgrown. Ah, but then, she thought, but then, it wouldn't take as long to cut, now, would it? I would be robbed of a few extra minutes of viewing pleasure.

Dawn reached to the little table beside her and picked up a glass of iced tea. She held it at eye level and noticed that the glass, like Will's lithe body, was beaded with sweat. Closing her eyes, she darted her pink tongue out and ran it slowly up the side of the tumbler, imagining herself licking the sweat from her young neighbor's firm pectorals. This little fantasy caused her thighs to squeeze together involuntarily, as a little twinge of pleasure formed between her legs. Picturing strong arms wrapped around her slender waist, soft lips kissing her neck, Dawn moaned a little, her eyes still closed.

"Mrs. Masters, are you all right?" Dawn's eyes flew open in alarm. She noticed several things at once: the sound of the lawn mower was gone; the machine itself was sitting half-way through a completed furrow of grass in the center of her yard; and the silhouette of a shirtless young man loomed before her on the other side of the screen.

"Will! Ohhh, you startled me, sweetie!" she said, trying to regain her composure. "Is everything OK, dear? You're not done for the day, are you?" She set the glass back down, a little too roughly. The tumbler made a clank as it met the table top.

"No, ma'am, just ran out of gas. You OK, ma'am?" Dawn couldn't see his face through the screen as he was back-lit by the afternoon sun; she wondered muddily what she had done to raise his concern, remembered the moan she had let out.

"Oh, don't be silly, dear, I'm fine. The iced tea was just so good, I guess. Do you want some? Take a little break before you finish?" She smiled and shifted a little in the lawn chair. Her bare thighs peeled away from the white plastic with a mild sucking sound that she hoped Will hadn't heard.

The boy paused a bit before answering, seemed to think over her offer for a moment. "No, thanks anyway, Mrs. Masters. I should finish while I'm still going strong. I'll just fill up the tank again and get started back up, OK?" He turned away from the porch without waiting for an answer and disappeared from view, walking around the corner of the house and into the garage.

Dawn stood abruptly after the teenager was out of sight, shook her head and cursed herself for the umpteenth time for a fool. Get him out of your head, Dawn Masters, he's a boy, a mere stripling! You were there for his eighteenth birthday party a week ago! The next thought, unbidden, was, But he's so beautiful, like a living statue of a Greek god. "Aaacchh," she spat, disgusted with herself.

Turning in to the house, the cooler air indoors went unnoticed as she continued to berate herself. You've known him since he was ten! His mother is your best friend: Jamie was the only one who seemed to care when Aaron died two years ago. She stayed with you, held you while you cried, kept you from falling at the funeral. The two years since had been hard years, lonely, frustrating years. There had been no men in her life, no warm body to snuggle up to in bed at night, no whiskered face to kiss her awake in the morning; not even a one-night-stand. The thought of such a thing tended to repulse her.

She glanced over to a picture of her late husband, stuck to the refrigerator door with a magnet. Oh, Aaron, you bastard, she thought. How could you leave me a widow at thirty-four? Why did you go and die in that stupid plane crash, why didn't we have children, why did we make that stupid decision to wait to get pregnant? She forced herself to admit that this "decision" had actually been her idea, and Aaron, sweet Aaron, pleasant, good-natured Aaron, had readily gone along.

Why didn't you fight me, Aaron? I might be caring for your child now, instead of lusting after my best friend's teenage son.

Jamie doesn't deserve this - this betrayal. That's what Dawn decided it was: a betrayal of her friend, to be thinking such thoughts of Jamie's son. "Evil, that's what I am," she sighed. "Perverted and evil."

She wandered about the kitchen, refilled her glass with fresh tea and ice, lifted it to her lips then set it down on the counter without tasting it. She ran her slender fingers roughly through her chestnut hair, then pressed her palms hard against her closed eyes, until little white lights started to dance behind her eyelids.

Try as she might, Dawn couldn't force the image out of her mind: a fantasy image of Will atop her, gently stroking his hard, young cock in and out of her wet, willing vagina. Without realizing it, her thoughts had carried her to the kitchen window, and she now stood in front of the sink, gazing once again at the teenage boy, at the rippling arm muscles as he yanked the mower's starter cord and made it come alive with a muffled roar.

Will, unaware that he was being watched, smiled to himself, wiped his sweaty face with the back of his hand, and commenced the completion of Dawn's yard. From her vantage point behind the glass, Dawn watched him push the machine away from the house toward the far end of the property.

She chuckled throatily. Her subconscious mind had made the decision for her. "I guess I'll just have to learn to live with the fact that I'm perverted and evil," she said aloud, as her lustful eyes took in the young man's muscular ass under his oversized basketball shorts.

*****

Still, Dawn was content to keep things as they were: strictly a fantasy. Will was eye- candy to her, nothing more. She could live with herself, she thought, if she kept things at that level. So now, with her mind made up, she watched her eye-candy approach the kitchen window, mower wheeling before him as he cut a new swath of grass.

The fantasy of Will's body over hers, his hard member thrusting into her, displayed itself once more in her mind as he looked up from his work and waved innocently at her, then turned the mower and walked away from her again. She waved back absently with one hand, as the other crept surreptitiously to the waistband of her white denim shorts.

She sucked in her tummy as cool fingers brushed against the warmth of her abdomen, and easily went down inside, past the elastic of her silky panties. For a moment, her fingertips delicately caressed the carefully trimmed hair at the top of her mons. She spent another moment in silent debate with herself: Will is only twenty feet away! But he's outside, and I'm in, and he can't see anything but my head and shoulders. But what if he comes in and sees you? He won't, he won't, and I'm--

A rigid finger plunged into the soft wetness of her vagina, squelching her internal debate. A shock of intense pleasure followed, and the hand she had used to wave at the boy now gripped the cold porcelain edge of the sink for support.

Jesus, she was so wet down there. Dawn rubbed herself furiously, running one, now two fingers in and out of her sopping pussy. Her knees nearly buckled as the orgasm built inside her. She shut her eyes tight and grunted as her fingers made frantic friction on her engorged clitoris. She imagined Will's hand down there, his fingers rubbing her, his tongue licking up her juices, pictured his mop of blond hair between her legs, his piercing brown eyes gazing lovingly up at her as he kissed her sensitive labia. "Ohhh, Will, yes, ahhh, that's it, honey!" she squeaked.

She could hold it back no longer. The orgasm burst from within her, seemed to blast out of her belly. Fluid flowed out of her pussy, soaking her hand, her panties, absorbing into her shorts. She collapsed to her knees on the cold tile of the kitchen floor, panting, her eyes squeezed shut, her hand still down her shorts, her fingers now gently fluttering against her sex, as the final shudders of her orgasm subsided. She pulled her sticky hand out and pressed her palm flat against the floor, then the other one, as she struggled to catch her breath.

She stayed in this all-fours position for another moment, gasping, then chuckling lustily over what she had just done. She knew that she looked a complete mess, with the crotch of her shorts soaked through - painfully obvious to anybody was the wet spot through her white shorts - her hair hanging in front of her face, sweat running down her cheeks and neck.

And then she noticed that all was quiet outside. Will? WILL! Where was he? How long had he been finished? Oh, my sweet Jesus, what if--

The mower was gone, and there was no sign of the boy in her back yard. She ran to the front of the house and parted the drapes on the picture window in time to see her best friend's son pushing the machine as quickly as he could, across the street, up his driveway and into the garage.

The last thing Dawn saw of the boy was his hand as he touched the button that slid the garage door down. "Good Christ," she wailed, "what have I done?" Her pleasure of a scant few minutes before was forgotten as Dawn sank onto the sofa, her body wrenched with bitter sobs and tears of self-loathing.

****

If Dawn, crying in her living room, had known the real reason why Will had rushed home, she might not have wasted her tears. Once the teen had pushed the button to the garage door, he raced into and through the house to his bedroom, locked the door, and leaned his back against it.

He then reached down to squeeze his penis through his shorts, stroking it a little over the fabric to make sure it was still hard. It was - it most definitely was! After what he had seen, why wouldn't it be? It was the hottest thing he'd

ever

seen!

Will, his mowing completed, had entered the screened-in porch so he could knock and ask Mrs. Masters for payment. He had just raised his fist to rap on the door, when a movement through the door's ornate window caught his eye. He shifted his gaze to the left of the window so he could catch the movement again, just when Dawn's orgasm had hit.

Will could not believe his eyes. He pressed his face to the window and cupped his palms around his face so he could see better. Mrs. Masters had her hand down her shorts, and it looked like she was diddling herself. Holy cow! She was really into it, wasn't she?

Even though Will was still a virgin at the age of eighteen, he felt that he knew a lot about sex. He'd found his dad's stack of "forbidden" magazines one day and had spent quite a few hours alone with them, looking at the pictures of the men and women having sex, and reading the letters sent in by subscribers. Some of the letters talked about women masturbating, and they called it "diddling", which he'd thought was a funny word when he'd read it the first time, but now, watching Mrs. Masters, it really seemed appropriate. She was diddling herself into a frenzy, for sure.

And then, Will thought he heard Dawn call out his name. What did

that

mean? He'd figure that one out later, but right now, he had a tent in his shorts like he'd never had before. He felt bigger and harder than when he'd accidentally walked in on his big sister coming out of the shower last month. And why not? His sister had been naked, but she hadn't been doing anything. Mrs. Masters had all of her clothes on, but she was

doing

something, that's for darn sure.

Will saw Dawn drop to her knees, go down on all fours, her hair in her face. Cripes, she looked sexy that way. Funny, he'd never noticed her as hot before. She was just Mrs. Masters all his life, his mom's best friend. Kind of nice, kind of pretty, kind of sweet. But now-- Uh-oh, she's looking up. Did she see him through the window? Shoot, better get home!

Will exited the porch, grabbed the handle of the mower and sped home, thinking he might have been caught spying by Mrs. Masters, and wanting to get to his room before his boner went away. He'd come back later and ask for money, no, maybe he'd ask his mom to do it for him, see what happened.

Now, with the image of his suddenly sexy neighbor-lady playing with herself hot in his young mind, Will roughly pushed his shorts down to free his fully erect cock. He closed his eyes and stroked himself vigorously, playing the scene over and over again in his mind, then trading that image for a new one: it was his hand, Will's hand, bringing Mrs. Masters off, diddling her, her fingers digging into his shoulder muscles as she came, her voice panting his name again and again as she erupted over his fingers.

Will stiffened his legs and pushed himself harder against his bedroom door, bracing himself for his own eruption. He felt his nuts tightening up and his cock getting bigger in his fist, then he opened his eyes as the first stream of come shot out of the purple head of his dick. Wow, that one shot like five feet, he thought, and then his orgasm overwhelmed him and he stopped keeping track.

He squeezed his eyes tight again and pictured Mrs. Masters on her knees before him, her slim, curvy body naked now like the women in the magazines, her mouth open to receive the spurting jets of come ejecting from his cock. "Whoo-ee, that was a good one," he said to himself, picking up his sweat-soaked t-shirt from the floor and wiping up the mess he'd made.

Will stripped the rest of the way and took a quick shower before he went down for dinner. Before stepping into the stall, he caught sight of himself in the mirror, stopped, and took a good look. At first he admired his nicely muscled body, but then became a bit self-conscious: the young man realizing suddenly that he is, down deep, still a boy. He dry-scrubbed his sweaty face with a palm, trying to dispel the thought, and stepped under the spray. "I wonder what Mrs. Masters sees in a kid like me?"

****

Dawn had calmed down after a few minutes, and she sat, sniffling and taking deep, calming breaths. Her initial guilt at having been seen by Will, and her supposition that the boy had been scared by the sight, gradually turned to fear that Will would tell his mother, Jamie, what he had seen. What would she think of her old friend now? The strong ties that had bound them together over the years would be severed immediately, as if made of a spider's web.

Dawn had to find out if Jamie knew anything; maybe she could nip this situation in the bud. Going to the kitchen, she poured a fortifying glass of wine, took a sip, and picked up the phone. "Hi, Jamie, it's Dawn."

"Hey, neighbor! What's going on, hon?"

"Well, your son was over here a little while ago, mowing my lawn, and he finished up and went home before I could pay him. Is, um...is everything OK?"

"That doesn't sound like Will, does it?" Jamie chuckled. Dawn was beginning to think that Will hadn't said anything, was beginning to hope that he might not.

"He's right here," Jamie continued, "eating dinner. Hey, Doofus," Jamie said, holding the phone away from her mouth, "Dawn said you ran off without collecting your exorbitant fee." Dawn heard a masculine chuckle in the background, and a muffled comment. She gritted her teeth and waited for the shoe to drop.

Jamie came back to the phone. "Mystery solved, girlfriend. Doofus here says he had to run home and take a leak before he peed in his pants."

Dawn heard a whining "Mom!" in the background and released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Jamie laughed at her son's protest, then said, "I'll send him over tomorrow morning, it's Saturday. I'm sure he'll be very happy to perform any other service you may need him for, as well. OK?"

"OK, Jamie, thanks. I'll let you get back to your dinner, and tell Will he doesn't have to get here any earlier than ten. G'night!" She hung up, reached for the wine glass and gulped it greedily.

The wine rushed to her head, forcing her to sit down in one of the breakfast barstools. She was processing the events of this afternoon and this evening too quickly - her emotions couldn't keep up with her thoughts.

Dawn closed her eyes, leaned her elbows on the bar and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. The thought foremost in her mind was the realization that Will had chosen not to tell his mother about what he had seen. Well, she now asked herself,

had

he seen anything? Did I just have a near-nervous breakdown for nothing? It was the simplest explanation, and one she was more than willing to clutch at.

Perhaps the reason Will had given his mother for rushing home had been true. She blew a lungful of air out forcefully in great relief and poured herself another glass of wine. As she sipped it, Dawn resolved to keep neighborly relations strictly compartmentalized.

****

Shuffling down the hall the next morning, wrapping her terry robe loosely around her and tying the sash, Dawn approached the front door on unsteady bare feet. What time is it? she wondered. Uhhhh, how much wine did I end up drinking last night? The doorbell chimed again, and Dawn grumbled, "I'll be there in a minute, dammit, whoever you are, you rude, inconsiderate, mannerless, no-good son-of-a---

"Will!" she exclaimed as she opened the door wide, then remembered how she was dressed and shut it back to a slender crack. "What are you doing here so early, sweetie?"

Damned if the boy wasn't a regular Adonis, even at this hour: dressed in a form-fitting tank top and cargo shorts, his curly blond locks glistened in the morning light; his slender, toned frame, browned by the sun, positively glowed with youthful energy. He had a big, friendly grin on his handsome face. Christ, she could absolutely gobble him up if she weren't so hung-over.

"Early?" his response dragged her back to reality. "It's ten-thirty, Mrs. Masters. I've been up for hours!" Now the boy took a closer look at Dawn and his face registered concern. "Oh, jeez, did I wake you up? I'm sorry, ma'am, I can come back la--"

"No, no, it's all right, dear. Time I was up, anyway. Ten-thirty? Is it really ten-thirty already? C'mon in, Will, go on in the kitchen."

Dawn let the door swing open again and went back down the hall, talking over her shoulder. "Help yourself to anything, I'll get myself presentable and we can talk about today."

"Okey-doke, Mrs. Masters." Will let himself in and, as he shut the door, he watched the back end of his mom's best friend head to her bedroom. Millions of thoughts were running through his head at that moment, primary of which was whether or not Mrs. Masters was naked under her robe. He'd caught a bit of cleavage when she'd answered the door, but then she'd pulled the robe tighter around herself. She seemed to have pretty nice boobs, not big ones like the women in the magazines, but not tiny.

Somehow, he thought now, Mrs. Masters looks sexier, more exciting, when she has clothes on. Cripes, now I'm hard again! Good thing I'm wearing baggy shorts today, he thought as he entered the kitchen.

There was a large, round Granny Smith apple in a bowl on the breakfast bar. Will polished it a bit on his shirt and took a big bite. As he munched the crunchy, tart fruit, Will's gaze wandered over to the spot by the kitchen sink, where Mrs. Masters had diddled herself the day before. The teenager swallowed the bite of apple and grinned at the memory. It has to be the hottest thing I've ever seen, he thought.

Again, he puzzled over why she had called out his name while she did it. Had she been thinking of him at the time? Jeez, she's gotta be the same age as my mom. Do women as old as that go for guys my age? Will grinned again, somewhat involuntarily, and thought, Don't be stupid.