Dianas Tales Deja Vu

Disclaimer - All characters are 18 or older.

Author's note - This story was written in collaboration with Diana R.

Diana is a mature 53 year old woman, 5'6" 129 lbs, 34c-29-35, brown eye with short auburn hair. She is married, but her husband is often away from home on business. She is now retired, but she used to be a college guidance counselor. She is a nymphomaniac who enjoys indiscriminate sex with younger men and often cheats on her husband, unbeknownst to him.

*****

I stood in front of the two-story colonial home feeling like I'd stepped into a time warp. It was my first time in years visiting the hometown where I grew up. Clark, my boyfriend when I was an 18-year-old high school senior, was throwing a party, and I was nervously anticipating reconnecting with many of my old high school friends.

After high school, Clark's parents had tragically died in a car accident, and he inherited his parent's house and ended up marrying and raising his own family in his childhood home. The house held a lot of memories for me dating back to when I used to go out with Clark. I looked up at the second story window and remembered having sex with Clark on his parent's bed all those years ago when we were 18-year-old seniors. Hell, I remembered one time we were both so horny, we barely even made it past the front door before we tore off our clothing and were passionately making love.

My mind raced back to the last time I stepped foot inside the home. It was right after our high school graduation, and Clark threw a huge party while his parents were out of town. I was always an adventurous free spirit, and Clark and a few of his high school senior football teammates gang banged me for hours on end that night as we celebrated the end of high school life.

As I was about to ring the bell, the door opened, and a familiar face appeared in the doorway.

"Diana," Clark beamed. He was 30 some odd years older, and his body had long since turned larger and softer. Gone was his toned football playing athletic body, and now he sported what might charitably be termed a "dad bod."

We hugged in a warm embrace. "Thank you for inviting me over," I said appreciatively. "It's so good to see you. We haven't seen each other in forever."

"I know. You look incredible," he commented as he eyed my body, his eyes twinkling with attraction. "When I saw that you posted on FB that you were coming to town, well, we already had this big BBQ planned, so I invited you, hoping we could catch up, and now you're here. This is great."

"Diana, is that you?" a shrill voice called out.

A woman stepped up to Clark and possessively wrapped her arms around him. The hint was obvious.

"Beverly, it's nice to see you again," I greeted Clark's wife, hoping a dash of kindness might defrost her chilly reception. Clark dated and then eventually married Beverly, but she had always been jealous of me since I was his ex. I sighed to imagine she remained jealous 35 years later, but old habits sometimes die hard.

"Please, make yourself at home," Clark said as he motioned for me to enter. "LeDaniel and Santiago are out on the back porch. It'll be like old times. You remember them from high school, and - "

"Honey, can you help me check the meats and set up the margarita machine," Beverly interruped her husband.

"Yes, dear. Diana, I'm sorry, but please make yourself at home."

"Is there someplace out of the way I can lay down my coat?" I asked.

"Upstairs bedroom on the right. You can leave it on the bed," Beverly offered as she grabbed her husband's wrist and whisked him away.

"Thank you," I politely replied.

Then I slowly made my way up the stairs. When I got to the top, there were two doors, and I couldn't remember which door was the bedroom, so I decided to take a 50/50 shot. I opened one of the doors and gasped in shock at what I saw.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I apologized profusely. Nevertheless, I stood there with the door open as a naked young man faced me. He was drying himself off after a shower, but he panicked upon the interruption, and he dropped his towel to the floor and stood still as if he was frozen in place.

I was mesmerized by the sight of him, drawn in at first by the thick meaty cock standing at attention, and then my eyes drifted upward, and it was like déjà vu. I could only assume he was Clark's son because he was the exact spitting image of his father, exactly as I remembered him when we were high school seniors all those years ago. He was 6'1" and 175 pounds of muscular youthful perfection. His body was toned and athletic, his skin soft and supple.

"I'm so sorry, I was looking for the bedroom," I finally apologized as I stumbled away, although I snuck one last glance at the boy's naked body as I pulled the door closed behind me.

After the door was shut, I stood up straight, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I quickly collected myself and decided to just leave on my thin jacket rather than risk opening another door.

So, I headed back downstairs and mingled with the other guests. I saw LeDaniel and Santiago and quickly struck up a conversation. I felt awkward talking to them with their wives and families all about. Both men were close friends of Clark, but the last time I'd seen them 35 years ago, they were spit roasting me in an upstairs bedroom.

I guess people become frozen in time in your mind, and I still remembered them as wild, rambunctious teenagers, so to see them now as middle-aged responsible adults was somewhat jarring.

Nevertheless, it was good catching up with old friends, and any awkwardness quickly melted away as we recounted stories from our youth. Everyone seemed to marvel at how well I'd been able to maintain my figure, which was a nice ego boost.

A few minutes later, though, Clark's familiar voice bellowed, "Diana, I want you to meet my son, Mitchell. He's 18 years old and a high school senior now."

I turned around and shared an awkward glance with the naked young man I had met a few minutes earlier, but I quickly recovered and offered my hand to him.

"It's very nice to meet you," I greeted him with a wink, slyly acknowledging our accidental encounter.

Mitchell just smiled shyly and generally looked all out of sorts.

His father, Clark, gave him a light slap him on the back of his head. "What's wrong with you, boy? I raised you to be polite."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. It's a pleasure making your acquaintance," Mitchell mumbled, although his eyes remained glued to the ground.

"Kids, these days," Clark grumbled.

"It's quite alright," I reassured them. "I'm sure he's got friends his own age he'd much rather converse with than a bunch of old stiffs telling war stories from decades past."

Mitchell took the opportunity to slink away, and I returned to the conversation with my old high school friends, although I couldn't help sneaking glances across the room to Mitchell every so often. He hung out with two other teen aged boys.

Through conversation, I learned that Santiago and LeDaniel also had boys that were 18-year-old high school seniors named Diego and Brandon. All three teens were starters on the local high school football team. While Mitchell was the star quarterback, the other two were his top wide receivers, and they were the other two boys that Mitchell was hanging out with.

"They're all chips off the old block," LeDaniel commented.

"I can see that," I replied as I looked back over to the group of high school boys. I couldn't help noticing how much each resembled their father. "It's almost like déjà vu," I marveled under my breath.

All three young men bore striking resemblances to their fathers when they were the same age. Brandon was tall, maybe 6'3" 180 pounds, and he was the same black skin tone as his father with a similar athletic build and hair cut razor short. Similarly, Diego was a strong 5'10" 160 pounds. Just like his father, Santiago, his skin and facial features reflected his Mexican heritage, and his hair was slicked back just like how his father wore his hair at the same age.

"It's funny how life comes full circle," Clark remarked. "35 years ago, that was us off in a corner, hanging out at my parent's parties while all the old folks chattered away. And now we're the old folks."

"Speak for yourself," I joked. "Speak for yourself."

*****

The next day, I spent a quiet morning with my aunt, but I grew restless after lunch and decided to get out of the house in the afternoon. I stopped by my old favorite coffeeshop for a shot of adrenaline and saw a familiar face manning the register.

I remembered how awkwardly Mitchell had reacted when I saw him naked yesterday. At first, I thought I should leave before he saw me, but I quickly changed my mind. After years of being a guidance counselor, I was an expert on conflict resolution, and I wasn't afraid of confrontation. I knew the best way to deal with any problem was head-on, so I quickly decided to confront our awkward encounter from yesterday and clear the air between us.

"Fancy meeting you again," I said in my most charming tone before proceeding to give him my order.

Mitchell looked stunned at first, almost mortified, as I stepped to the front of the line, but my friendliness appeared to quickly disarm him, and he gave me a sheepish smile in response as his eyes pointed down and input my order.

After I received my drink, I took a seat at a small table in a corner of the café.

A few minutes later, Mitchell approached me as I sat checking messages on my phone.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I join you?" he asked meekly.

I looked up at him with a pleased expression. "Of course, please, have a seat, but aren't you supposed to be working?"

"It's okay, I'm on a break," he replied.

"I should apologize," I started as Mitchell took a seat. "Look, we obviously got off on the wrong foot yesterday, and I was hoping we could clear the air. I mean, that first encounter yesterday between us, that was a little awkward."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Look, I wasn't trying to flash you, I mean, I'd just showered and was getting dressed and then - "

"Oh, you have nothing to apologize for," I insisted. "I barged right on in and intruded on you, although next time maybe you should lock the door."

"I froze," he explained. "It's like I couldn't move. I should've covered up."

"I'm sorry I stared," I admitted.

"That's okay. I mean, I wasn't offended. I was afraid I'd offended you."

I chuckled. "Can we just agree to put it behind us and start over again?"

Mitchell nodded his head and then stuck his hand forward. "I'm Mitchell. It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Ma'am? That makes me sound so old. Please, call me Diana," I said as we shook hands.

Mitchell's phone was on the table, and it kept buzzing with incoming texts, but he ignored it.

"It seems someone's really trying to get in contact with you. You girlfriend?" I inquired as I eyed his phone buzzing away.

"Oh, I don't have a girlfriend. It's nothing."

"Are you sure about that?" I insisted.

"It's silly. Just stupid teenage stuff."

"Believe it or not, I was a teenager once," I reminded him. "Plus, I was a school guidance counselor for years. I've heard it all, so you can't surprise me. Why don't you amuse an old woman?" I said with a wink.

Mitchell looked unsure as he eyed me skeptically, but then his face softened.

"Don't look directly, but do you see the guys working in the back?" he asked.

I snuck a glance behind the service counter without turning my head and recognized Mitchell's friends who were at the party yesterday, Santiago and LeDaniel's sons.

"I see," I said, deflated. "Your friends are teasing you for conversing with an old woman."

Mitchell took a deep breath before answering. "Actually, it's quite the opposite," he stammered.

I eyed him curiously. "Do tell."

"They all thought you were a hot cougar," Mitchell reluctantly admitted.

My eyebrows raised. "Oh, I see."

"There was actually a silly bet we were talking amongst us to bed you," Mitchell remarked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I maintained my composure, although this revelation had my heart racing. "And what was the prize?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Nothing really. Just bragging rights. See, I told you it was just silly teenage stuff. I mean, you're a married woman, right?"

I looked down at the ring on my finger and then back up to Mitchell "I have to admit I stared because I was struck by how much you look like your father. It was like déjà vu. It really brought me back almost 35 years."

"I thought you might've been offended," he said, surprised by my reaction.

"Quite the opposite. I shouldn't tell you this, but you reminded me of your father in more ways than one," I explained as my eyes veered down to Mitchell's crotch.

My small action seemed to set him at ease, and he laughed at my innuendo.

"I thought all my parents' friends were old and stuffy, but you're still kind of cool," he remarked as he seemingly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Only kind of cool," I teased him.

"I didn't mean it like that. It's just, you used to go out with my dad, didn't you?"

"You're reminding me how old I am again," I lamented. "That was 35 years ago now. That's almost twice your age, even."

"I mean, my dad and his friends, they all look older with beer bellies and all," Mitchell explained. "You're still really fit. I can't believe you're my dad's age. I'd guess you were 10-15 years younger. That's why you had us all talking yesterday."

"Nice recovery," I teased him again. "I do appreciate the compliment, though. Flattery will get you far in life," I laughed. "I try to stay in shape. I work out regularly and watch what I eat. You have to as you age, and your metabolism slows down. So, tell me, why did you come over to my table?"

Mitchell froze like a deer in headlights. "I - I - I," he stuttered.

"Were you still hoping to win that bet?" I asked with a twinkle in my eye.

Mitchell looked at me in confusion, clearly unsure if I was joking around. "I think my break is about over. I should be getting back to work," he replied nervously.

I reached across the table and picked up his phone. I held it up in front of his face to trigger the facial recognition. The device unlocked, and then I proceeded to send myself a text from his phone.

"There, now you have my number. Look, I'm in town another day or so, and I don't have any plans. If you're interested, hit me up. Maybe you can still win that bet," I said with a wink.

Mitchell's face broke into a wide triumphant grin as he jumped up. He nodded his head and then practically leapt back behind the counter to resume taking orders.

I smiled, proud that I could still have such an effect on teenaged boys. I finished up my drink and then casually sashayed out of the café with an extra hop in my step. I returned to my car, curious if Mitchell would actually reach out to me or if I had just embarrassed myself by putting myself out there like that.

*****

"What's that buzzing?" my aunt complained.

"It's just my cell phone. Someone is texting me," I explained.

"Doesn't anyone use the phone to make calls anymore," she ranted. "They call it a phone, but I don't see anyone actually talking to anyone else. All people do is text and play games anymore on their so-called phones."

I ignored my aunt's diatribe and picked up my phone to look at my messages. I figured my husband was texting to check in on me, but I was pleasantly surprised to see a text from Mitchell, and my heart fluttered.

Mitchell: Were u joking about letting me win the bet?

I collected myself. A small voice in the back of my head told me to just ignore him, and honestly, I had every reason in the world to do so. I was a married woman, after all. And he was only 18. And the son of my former lover.

Then again, none of that had ever stopped me before. I'm a lustful woman, and my husband had long since proven incapable of fulfilling my sexual appetite. So, I had long since engaged in a series of affairs, often with younger men, and now another opportunity presented itself, and I didn't hesitate to answer the call.

Diana: There's only one way to find out.

Mitchell: You're not going to tell my dad about this, will u?

I smiled. As much as he wanted to sleep with me for bragging rights, he was seemingly just as worried as me to keep it a secret from his father, Clark.

Diana: I won't tell if you won't tell.

Mitchell: I get off work in a half hour. My parents left town this morning. It's their anniversary tomorrow, and they're at a bed and breakfast out of town. They won't be back for a few nights.

Diana: So, you're the only one at home?

Mitchell: Yes. Meet me at 3 pm.

Diana: Ok.

"Oh Auntie," I called out as I set my phone back down. "I think I'm going to go out for a bit and meet with a friend."

"It's nice knowing you're all settled down now and married," my aunt commented. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but we used to worry about you when you were a teenager. We were always worried that you were trying to sneak out to meet up with boys. It seemed you were always gallivanting around doing God knows what. Anyway, have fun, dear."

I tried not to blush, but I couldn't bear to tell my 80-year-old aunt that old habits die hard.

*****

I parked a block away from Mitchell's house. I wondered if maybe I shouldn't have rented a motel room for our illicit encounter, although I didn't want a motel room charge appearing on a credit card statement for my husband to question.

I nervously looked around, but the street appeared to be empty. I decided the worst thing I could do was to look nervous and draw attention to myself, so the best thing I could do was calmly and casually approach the house.

A minute later I was standing before the front door and ringing the bell. I had dressed nicely, not wanting to parade through the neighborhood looking like a tramp. That said, I was fully aware that I was an older woman, a cougar on the prowl, so I decided to play up my age and go for a sophistication that I hoped Mitchell wasn't used to with the high school girls.

I wore a black pencil skirt that hugged my curves and stopped an inch above my knees. I paired it with black nylons and three-inch heels that nicely accentuated my toned calves. On top, I wore a peach blouse, although I decided not to wear a bra underneath. The blouse was a size too small, and it wrapped tightly against my C cup breasts.

From a distance, I imagined I looked like a perfectly respectable middle-aged woman, albeit, one who was dressed sharply. When Mitchell opened the door and got a view of me up close, however, he saw the outline of my nipples pressing through the thin blouse fabric and the cleavage showing behind the extra button I left undone.

"Are you going to invite me inside?" I said with an eager, seductive smile.

Mitchell was speechless as he stepped aside to let me in. His eyes followed me as I entered his house, and then the door clicked as he closed it behind me. The house had been so loud and lively the day before during the party, but now it was filled with an almost eerie silence.

I turned around, and Mitchell looked nervous, so I decided that I needed to try to set him at ease.

"There's no one else here, right?" I asked.

"It's just us," he assured me.

"Good," I said with a twinkle in my eye.

He gasped as I lowered myself down on my knees before him as he stood with his back against the front door.

"Is it really true what you told me earlier?" I asked as I stared intently at the bulge in his pants.

"Is what true?" he replied.

"That you young men at the party yesterday had a challenge, a bet to see who could bed me?"