It was pure happenstance. I never set out to seduce an 18-year-old boy, a school friend of my son, Peter, but that is what I ended up doing, yes, and got a damned good fuck out of it, too. It happened one evening when Peter was out with some friends. I had just come out of the shower, hair still damp, wearing only my robe, still tingling from a self-induced orgasm, barefoot, when the doorbell rang.
'Oh, shit,' I thought, 'that's all I need. Suppose I'd better see who it is.' I trotted down the stairs and opened the door.
"Hi, Mrs Weston," said a familiar voice. "Is Peter in?" Alan, a school friend of Peter's.
"No, Alan, he's out. Come in for a moment, I don't want to stand at the door with damp hair."
"Sure thing," he replied, and moved past me into the hallway. I closed the door and moved to follow him. I'm still not sure what happened, maybe the tie had loosened, but I found myself stepping on the hem of my robe, stumbled, and before I realised what had happened I was showing my all to Alan, who had turned as I stumbled and was now staring at me, in what I realised was honest admiration.
"Fuck me, Mrs Weston, but you are gorgeous!"
I looked down at myself, at my freshly-shaved mons, at my bare legs, at my left tit, standing proud on my chest, its twin still -- barely -- covered by the edge of my robe, then across at Alan, still staring at me.
"You think I'm gorgeous?" I said, wondering what in hell I was doing as I let my robe slip off completely, standing proud and naked in front of my son's friend.
"I don't think so, I know. I just have to look at you," he said. He flushed. "I'm sorry, this is awkward."
I couldn't help it, I laughed. "For you, or for me?"
He grimaced. "Both of us?" he said, as I bent and retrieved my robe, slipping it on, tying the sash, noting the slight look of disappointment on his face as I covered myself. I gestured.
"Come on through to the sitting room and tell me why you're here," I said, leading him into the room. I gestured to the couch. "Sit there for a moment," I said, and took my usual armchair. "So, Alan, why are you here?"
"I came to ask Peter if he planned on going to the high school football game on Saturday," said Alan.
"Probably," I said. "Do you want to wait to ask him? He'll probably be late, he went to the cinema with Polly."
"No, tomorrow will do. I'll give him a ring in the morning."
"Okay, I'll tell him to expect it."
He took a deep breath "Guess I'd better get myself away." He grinned. "Thank you for the peepshow."
I laughed. "You're welcome." I'd been thinking furiously, wondering if I dared, but my orgasm in the shower had only added to my lack-of-sex frustration, three years now since my husband had been killed in an accident at work. "Alan, can I ask you a question?"
He grinned. "I think you just did." He gestured. "Yes, of course."
"When my robe slipped, and I flashed my all, what went through your mind? Disgust? Admiration? Desire? And I'd like your honest answer, please, don't worry about offending me, not going to happen, even if it was something intimate and personal. So, what?"
"Honest answer?"
"Honest answer, yes."
He took a deep breath. "Something on the lines of, sheesh, Mrs Weston is fucking gorgeous, I'd love to get my cock between those lovely thighs." He flushed and looked away.
"You wanted to fuck me?"
He nodded. "Yes." He took a deep breath. "I still do."
I stood, and held out my hand. "Come on, then."
"Come where?" he said, uncertain, taking my hand.
"My bedroom. That's where the bed is. The couch is okay, but the bed is better for a fuck."
"You're going to fuck me?" A note of incredulity in his voice, and an expectant look of hope on his face.
I laughed. "No, you're going to fuck me, or we're going to fuck each other, but one way or another, your prick is going into my pussy!"
"Mrs Weston?"
"For tonight, call me by my name, Mary, okay?"
"Okay. Mary?"
"Yes?"
"Will I need a condom? Because if I do, I'll have to dash home and get mine."
We'd reached my bedroom by now and I led him in. King-size bed, the clothes I'd removed for my shower still scattered in disorder on the bed. I swept them up and deposited them in my little tub armchair in the corner of the bedroom. The drapes were drawn against the evening and a low wattage light glowed at each end of the bed headboard. I released his hand and turned to him.
"No, you won't need a condom, you can fuck me bareback, but I'll need to fit my diaphragm first. Give me two minutes. You be undressing, and lie on the bed. When I come back I want to find a naked Alan Parsons sporting a nice stiff erection, okay?"
He grinned, beginning to unbutton his shirt. "Okay!"