Encounters with Mrs. Cochran

In an extramarital affair with your son's good friend, you can't be too careful.

This is sort of a companion piece to my three part "Mrs. Sutton is Blackmailed" which is also found in the "Mature" category. The young male protagonist here played a supporting role in the earlier story, and while in the present story there are brief references to people and situations in "Mrs. Sutton", it's not necessary to read that one to understand what's going on here. This story will be presented in three chapters, the other two, being fully written, will follow within days of each other

And, by the way, for those still interested, I'm finally posting the last installment of "Searching for Sheila" under "Loving Wives." You'll find my apology for the delay in its introductory remarks.

*

It was a warm summer's day in Ravensfield, and Monica Standish and Anita Cochran were doing what two women of leisure married to successful husbands did when they weren't shopping or ordering the housekeeper about. They lay next to the Standish pool sipping water-downed gin and tonics.

"I saw Stacey the other day at the dry cleaners. He's certainly keeping the weight off, which is more than I can say about my Kirby," Mrs. Standish said.

"Oh, yes. Stacey takes care of himself all right. I just wish he'd take care of me a little more."

"What do you mean, Nita?"

"You know exactly what I mean. I don't have to draw you a picture, do I?"

"You mean take care of you in the bedroom department."

"Exactly."

Mrs. Standish let a few moments go by, took a drink and looked at her friend.

"Well, you know, Nita, sometimes a girl has to take care of herself in that department."

"Now it's my turn to ask: ' What do you mean?'"

"Get yourself a boyfriend, of course. You'll want to be discreet certainly, but you want someone you see often in, shall we say, innocent circumstances, someone who fits into your weekly schedule conveniently for you to see without rousing suspicion."

"You evidently have given this considerable thought."

"Oh, yes. And I've acted on it. You're my best friend and I know you don't do gossip."

"So you're telling me you have a boyfriend that you see regularly for intimacy."

"Oh, my goodness, Nita. We don't meet for intimacy. We get together for sex, to fuck each others brains out."

"I've never heard you talk like that, Monnie."

"That's the way he likes to put it."

"You meet a man who talks like that?"

"He's not a man. Not yet. He's a boy, as in 'boyfriend'. But believe me. He screws better than most men I've known, not that I've known that many."

"You mean 'boy', as in teenager?"

"Well, I think he's twenty or twenty-one. He's in college. But that's a 'boy' to me."

"Do you mind telling me who this young man is? Is he someone I know?"

Mrs. Standish nodded over to the other side of the tall privacy fence.

"I think you know Timmy Griffin. That's him doing the lawn out there."

"Why he's one of my son's best friends. You meet with Timmy Griffin for sex?"

"Don't laugh. Timmy may not be much to look at, being so skinny and all, but in the bedroom he's just what a girl needs. He's thoughtful, attentive, has loads of energy, staying power, and he usually doesn't roll over and go to sleep after he's had sex with you. And it's always convenient 'cause he's here at least once a week. He looks after the pool as well as the yard -- and me. And dear Kirby, my husband of twenty-seven years, is so oblivious, he doesn't suspect a thing. And Timmy's a real gentleman. He doesn't kiss and tell, or should I say, he doesn't screw and tell."

"I don't believe it, Monnie."

"Here. I'll show you. Take your stuff and go to the pool house. I'm getting excited just thinking about sex. That's one thing I've learned with Timmy in my life. The more sex you have, the more you want. I'll let Timmy know that I'm getting ready for him."

"You mean you're going to do it right here by the pool with me watching?"

"It might add to the excitement for me. Are you game?"

For an answer Mrs. Cochran picked up her drink, towel and bag and went to the other end of the pool where she closed the door of the pool house on herself. Whatever was going to happen she could see through a window facing the pool. She stood in a shadow with arms crossed on her breasts and said aloud," Monica Standish, just what the hell are you doing?"

She soon found out. She watched as her friend let Timmy in through the gate. They embraced and Timmy's hands were all over her, especially her butt and breasts. Monnie took Timmy by the hand and brought him over to a lounge. The young man was soon helping the older woman off with her skimpy bikini. Then she lay back on the lounge and spread her legs, motioning for her young lover to come to her. Mrs. Cochran gasped as she watched Timmy's mouth perform on Monnie's vagina. His head bobbed up and down as the woman ran her hands through his hair, raising her hips off the lounge. After a while Monnie shuddered as if in orgasm and Mrs. Cochran's hand went to the crotch of her swim suit. Her fingers pressed against the fabric, and when that did not bring enough pleasure, she pulled the material aside and let her fingers massage her clitoris. Mrs. Cochran couldn't take her eyes from what was happening by the pool, nor stop her fingers.

She next saw Timmy stand over Monnie, his thin legs straddling the lounge. Monnie reached up and pulled Timmy's shorts down and took his penis into her mouth.

"My, god," breathed Mrs. Cochran as her fingers applied more pressure between her legs. Monnie's face slid over Timmy's manhood like a piston, and the young man responded with his hips in motion. Suddenly Monnie's face was wet with Timmy's ejaculation.. She looked up at him smiling as she reached for a towel.

Mrs. Cochran noticed that Timmy's penis was still erect. He reached for Monnie and helped her from the lounge. He then took her to a corner of the fence and turned her around. By her hips he pulled her butt to himself and inserted his penis between her cheeks. Mrs. Cochran had never seen such a sex act performed. Didn't Monica Standish feel degraded letting this boy enter her private parts with his mouth and then letting him stick his penis into her rear end, to say nothing of taking his penis into her mouth and having his discharge all over her face? Apparently not Monica Standish seemed to be enjoying it as Timmy pounded her from behind. Timmy finally pulled his penis out and began to stroke it. Monnie went to her knees and again pulled his penis into her mouth.

A sudden burst of pleasure overcame Mrs. Cochran and she had to brace herself against the wall while her fingers brought her much needed relief. When she could get back to the window, she saw that Timmy had gone and Monnie was putting her suit back on and looking toward the pool house displaying a radiant smile. Mrs. Cochran pulled herself together and opened the door. She didn't know what she was going to say to her friend, but she knew one thing -- she must have Timmy Griffin for herself

1st Encounter

I

For days she thought of nothing but Timmy Griffin and what she had watched through the window of the pool house -- only in her mind she substituted herself for her friend Monica. Mrs. Cochran resisted picturing herself with Timmy's penis in her mouth -- she thought that was too humiliating -- but she had no trouble in conjuring an image of the young man servicing her vagina with his mouth. She could hardly wait for her husband, Stacy, a successful insurance attorney, and her son, Rod, who was Timmy's friend, to leave the house so she could begin a daily ritual of masturbation driven by scenarios of Timmy coming to the house to spend sex filled afternoons with her. She performed on herself throughout the day, starting in the shower, then later on her bed and later still on the wrap-around couch in the basement or the recliner in the TV room, always making sure that the housekeeper had assignments in other parts of the large house. On some level she was ashamed of her fantasies and ashamed of her constant masturbating, but she couldn't help herself.

Without her husband's knowledge, Mrs. Cochran purchased a revealing black bikini like the one Monica had worn that afternoon. She could not bring herself to wear it to the swimming party at the Chesterfield Country Club. Nor had she considered wearing it for her husband during their more and more infrequent and passionless times for sex. But Mrs. Cochran's sexual fantasy sessions often began with her donning the bikini and displaying herself in suggestive poses before her full-length bedroom mirror which heightened the desire to bring on her own orgasms. She convinced herself that the purchase of the bikini and her weakness for masturbation were symptoms of her new overwhelming sex drive which only Timmy Griffin could satisfy.

She often thought of questioning Rod about his friend, but she was afraid of displaying her interest in the young man. Once she purposely drove to the Standish house in hopes of seeing Timmy at work, but when he was there, she was too nervous to stop.

I've got to do something, she thought. It's so simple. All I have to do is call him. But once he was at her house, did she have the skill to seduce him? Did she have the will-power, indeed the courage, to carry out her fantasies? She thought not. But why not the direct approach? Let him know that she was available for sex. All right, I'll call him, she finally decided.

She kept putting it off. What am I afraid of?, she thought. If Timmy wants sex with Monica Standish and finds her attractive, why shouldn't he find me just as attractive as a sex partner? Mrs. Cochran was finally prompted to call Timmy by the most unusual source she could think of -- her husband. One night after they had turned off the lights she asked, " Stacey, are you happy with the lawn service? "

"What? It's past eleven and I have a big meeting in the morning, and you're asking me about the goddamned lawn service? "

"I was over at Monica's last week, and their landscape looks really nice. They have the Griffin boy -- you know, Timmy -- take care of the yard, and he seems to do a really good job. "

"Look. If you don't like the lawn service we have, fire'em. But why hire the Griffin kid? We got a young man named Roderick who sleeps right down the hall. Have him do it. "

"You know the long hours he keeps at the bakery. I don't want Rod using up his free time when there's a boy nearby who does lawn work as his summer job. Besides, Timmy wouldn't charge what we pay the lawn service. You're always wanting to economize. "

"Okay, for chrissakes. Get the Griffin kid over here. But stay on him to get the job done. I don't want him here all afternoon. Now let me get some sleep. "

She smiled into the darkness and turned over. The next day Mrs. Cochran dialed the Griffin number in the late afternoon.

"Hello, Linda. How are you? Oh, I've been fine. It's been a lovely summer, hasn't it? I don't want to keep you. I was actually calling for your son. Do you think Timmy would have time to do our yard work?"

In a few seconds he was on the line. " Hello, Mrs. Cochran. This is Tim."

The sound of his voice started a pounding in her chest. She swallowed and said as casually as she could, " I understand you do the lawn for Monica Standish."

"That's right."

"I was wondering if you could take me on -- I mean, take our lawn on as a regular job. We haven't been satisfied with our lawn service lately."

"Sure, Mrs. Cochran, I'll take you on -- I'll do your lawn. When do you want me?"

I want you now, she thought, but she said, " Would tomorrow be all right?"

"Sure. I'm free tomorrow. But I have a question. Why doesn't Rod do your lawn?"

"Oh, he's much too busy at the bakery. I don't want to impose on him."

"Okay."

She took a breath and said, her mouth almost dry, " And I understand you perform some additional services for Monica Standish and . . . I would be interested if you could perform those services on me, I mean, for me, Timmy."

There was a short silence on the other end. Then she heard his voice saying, " I'd be very pleased to perform those services for you, Mrs. Cochran. And, of course, there'd be no extra charge."

"Then may I expect you at, say, one tomorrow?" she said, making a mental note to give the housekeeper the afternoon off.

"We better make it noon, Mrs. Cochran. You have a pretty big yard. It might take the whole afternoon."

Her husband would be home in a couple of hours, or so. She undressed and went to the shower once more, letting the warm water drench her as she pleasured herself with her fingers bringing on an image of Timmy pounding himself into her with abandon or kneeling before her, has face buried in her vagina.

At the same time Tim was lying on his bed contemplating his brief conversation with Mrs. Cochran. So how did she find out about those "special services" he performed for Mrs. Standish? Were these two older attractive married women going to share him with each others knowledge and consent? Tim thought it would be best for the present not to ask questions, just let things happen. This could be the most interesting and exciting summer of his life. Tim smiled at the ceiling, then closed his eyes to better enjoy the warm hardness forming in his shorts.

II

The hum of the mower was soon driving her crazy. Would he never finish the job? Did he forget why he was here? Was he having second thoughts?

Mrs. Cochran went to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water and went to the front door. She felt silly, but she called across the lawn, waiving the bottle at Timmy. "You must be thirsty, Timmy. Come in and have a drink."

The young man put the mower in neutral, replying, " Almost through, Mrs. Cochran. Give me five minutes."

She returned to the kitchen, feeling on edge. She wanted to relax and enjoy the afternoon with this boy. I need him, she thought, why does he keep me waiting? Doesn't he care? Doesn't he want this? Doesn't he want me?

That last thought prompted Mrs. Cochran to take the stair case to her bedroom and once more examine herself in the full length mirror. Her jeans were tight, but in all the right places. The denim shirt was one size too small, but it favored her breasts. The high-heel sandals made her legs longer and accented her butt. She was wearing her rusty-colored hair down to her shoulders, letting it shield one side of her face. She thought she looked quite desirable. She felt desirable. Would Timmy find her desirable?

Still staring into the mirror, Mrs. Cochran opened the front of her jeans and placed her fingers over the growing moisture in the crotch of her panties. "Oh," she breathed as her fingers gave her that familiar pleasure so lacking in the sex she had with Stacy, her husband. She wanted Timmy more than ever. Then she heard the sound of Timmy's truck pulling away. "Oh, no!" she gasped, running to the stairway, almost tripping on the carpet in her high heels. From the front window the street was vacant. Mrs. Cochran almost cried in desperation. Well, that's that, she thought, I feel like such a fool, throwing myself at this . . . this kid, for heaven's sake.

But in a minute she heard a knock on the kitchen door. She opened it and there he was.

"I thought it was a good idea to get the truck off the street, Mrs. Cochran."

"Oh, how very thoughtful of you, Timmy, " she said, making no effort to keep the relief out of her voice.

"I see you're ready to have fun, Mrs. Cochran."

"Ready?"

Tim nodded to her open jeans.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. I was just getting dressed." She was truly embarrassed. She thought she had already appeared far too forward with yesterday's phone call. She really wanted Timmy to take charge of the situation for now. She zippered and buttoned her jeans trying to contain her nervousness.

"You mentioned something to drink, Mrs. Cochran. "

"Yes. I'll get you some water."

"Where does Mr. Cochran keep the whiskey?"

"Whiskey?"

"Yeah. I think it would be a good idea if we both had a drink. You look kinda tense."

"Why, I'm not tense at all, Timmy. Why should I be tense?"

"Is that a trick question, Mrs. Cochran? You're about to fuck your son's friend, and I'm about to fuck his mother. You better get the whiskey. And please call me Tim."

Besides, Tim thought, I need a drink as well. He couldn't let his own nervousness show. He took a seat as Mrs. Cochran returned with a half- full amber bottle. She, too, was thinking that a good stiff drink would be a wonderful idea. She reached up into the pantry for glasses and Tim couldn't help noticing the way her jeans hugged her ass and legs and the way her shirt stretched across her tits. He thought, man, Mrs. Cochran looks good, sexier than Monica Standish. He crossed his legs, enjoying the gradual stiffening of his cock.

Mrs. Cochran poured two shallow drinks, the neck of the bottle clicking against the glasses. She asked herself, why am I so nervous now? He's here. This is what you wanted. Relax. Enjoy. She took a seat and touched Timmy's glass to hers. "To us," she said, " and a wonderful afternoon."

"And to you, Mrs. Cochran. The most attractive woman I know."

"Oh, Tim. You're making me blush. I don't usually drink in the afternoon."

"And you usually don't fuck in the afternoon, I bet."

"Please. Do you have to use that word? Couldn't we just say 'sex'? "

"I think you're too proper, Mrs. Cochran. Have another drink."

As the whiskey was making its warm way through his body, Tim thought, I've got to take control of Rod's old lady right now. He pulled his chair next to Mrs. Cochran and took her hand and placed it on his shorts over his hardening cock. At first she was startled at this boy's boldness. Then she thought, what did you expect -- soft music and candle light? She allowed her hand to tighten over Tim's hardness, thinking how few times she had actually touched her husband's penis.

"It feels so nice. But couldn't we go downstairs to the rec room?"

"In due time, Mrs. Cochran."

He stood up and brought the older woman up to him hard, letting his hands play over her firm ass, made firmer by the tight jeans. His lips pressed against hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Mrs. Cochran did not resist. She had not been kissed like this in years and never since her marriage. She instinctively brought her hips up to her young lovers body, feeling his hard manhood. Then she was being turned around in his arms and feeling his hands unbutton her shirt, then on her breasts, kneading her nipples through her bra. Everything was happening so quickly, but she knew this was what she wanted, this was what she had been waiting for.

"Tim, I think I'd like another drink. "

He poured her more whiskey and she downed it. The booze swirled in her head. She felt her shirt pulled from her shoulders and somehow her bra became unfastened and hands were handling her breasts forcefully. Then she was turned around again and she heard Tim say, " You have beautiful tits, Mrs. Cochran. I want to suck them. Tell me to suck your tits. I want to hear you say it."

"Please, Tim. Not here in the kitchen."

"Right here. I'm going to suck your tits and eat your pussy."

"Must you talk so crudely?"

"Sure. That's part of the fun of fucking. You want to have fun, don't you, Mrs. Cochran?"

"Oh, yes. I want you, Tim. "

"Then say it -- 'Tim, I want you to suck my tits."

Mrs. Cochran looked down at her breasts. She suddenly felt overwhelmed that this young man she wanted so much found her breasts attractive. It's true, she thought, I do have beautiful breasts -- still firm at her age, the nipples hard and pink.

"Yes, Tim. Please suck them. Please suck my tits!"

Then Tim's mouth was on each breast in turn. He sucked strongly, drawing in each nipple deeply. She felt his tongue lap against each nipple's hardness and she soon thought she would faint with the pleasure. She was hardly able to stay steady on her high heels, but Tim pulled her to him, a hand on each hip. She suddenly felt his mouth leave her nipple and once again press hard against her own mouth. Then she opened her lips willingly and let his tongue inside. Without being prompted she began to suck on his tongue as if forcing it down her throat. Mrs. Cochran opened even wider as Tim shot his tongue deeper until she thought she would gag. He then pulled away and stepped back.