Marla Ch 01

Eighteen year-old Buddy Wilson gaped when Marla Harris walked into his bedroom, her beautiful body barely concealed by a filmy black negligee.. It was obvious Mrs. Harris wore absolutely nothing under the negligee.

"Mrs. Harris!" he gulped.

"Yes, Buddy?" she purred.

He couldn't talk and couldn't take his eyes off her body. It was fantastic! Better than he dreamed it would be.

"Do you like my outfit?" Marla asked. She turned so he could see all of her.

"Um hum," Buddy responded. He couldn't talk, but he could make sounds. An erection swelled in the tight confines of his shorts.

Mrs. Harris walked toward him. As she did, her breasts bobbed, and the robe fell open. Buddy thought he'd explode. Mrs. Harris was letting him see her naked!

"Do you think I'm beautiful, Buddy?" Marla asked as she moved closer to the bed where he lay.

"Yes, ma'am," Buddy replied, relieved he could talk again.

"Would you like to make love with me?" she whispered.

Would he! Buddy's vocal cords were paralyzed. He tried to reply, but couldn't. He nodded.

"That's nice, Buddy," Mrs. Harris whispered and knelt next to the bed. "I think you're very sexy. I've wanted to make love with you for a long time."

"Oh God!" Buddy thought. "After dreaming about this all these years it's really going to happen!"

Mrs. Harris unzipped his shorts and took out the lad's swollen penis. "Oh, Buddy," she murmured, stroking it. "Buddy! Buddy! Buddy!"

* * * * * * * * * *

"Buddy! Come on, sleepyhead, it's time to get up!" a voice, not Mrs. Harris's, called. Buddy opened his eyes and looked around. He was in his own bed, in his own house. Disappointed, he realized it was his mother calling his name, not Mrs. Harris. He picked up his eyeglasses from the bedside table, put them on, and looked down at his middle. A rigid erection tented the bedcovers and his hand was stroking it.

"Damn!" he muttered, disappointed. "Why couldn't Mom have let me sleep a little longer? It really would have been wonderful to finish that dream."

The young man struggled to his feet and stretched, then went into the bathroom. He showered, dressed, and went downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen, getting breakfast.

"I thought you were going to sleep all day," his mother said. "Remember, you have to mow Harris' lawn today."

"Yeah, I remember," Buddy grumbled. If he wasn't going to get to make love with Mrs. Harris, at least he'd get to see her.

Buddy was a senior in high school and had a crush on their attractive neighbor ever since he realized girls were delightfully different from boys. In his opinion, the auburn-haired woman who lived across the street was the sexiest female in the whole world.

Marla Harris and her husband were friends of Buddy's parents and, ever since he was old enough, he had mowed Harris' lawn and did odd jobs for them. He didn't mind. They paid him extremely well, but he'd have gladly worked for them free so he could hang around their house and gaze at the object of his fantasies.

Buddy finished his breakfast and got up. "Guess I better get started," he told his mother.

"Will you be home for lunch?" his mother asked.

"Probably not," he said. "You know Mrs. Harris. She thinks she has to feed me when I work over there."

"All right, then," his mother said. "Remember, your father and I are going up to Aunt Abigail's for the weekend, so you'll be on your own until Sunday night. Make sure you eat and get enough sleep."

"Aw, Mom," Buddy said. He turned and walked out the door. He crossed the street to the Harris place and went around to the back door. He knocked and Marla came to the door, wearing a form-fitting tank top and equally snug jeans. Buddy felt his chest tighten. Mrs. Harris was his Mom's age, but she looked a lot sexier than his mother did!

"Buddy!" Marla said, her soft and husky, "Hi." She smiled at him warmly. She liked her young neighbor and enjoyed having him around. He had short brown hair, a pleasant face, wore glasses, and was a little pudgy, but he had always been very polite and she'd known for years he adored her.

"Ah, I'm here to cut the grass," Buddy said.

"I'm glad. It sure needs it," Marla replied.

Buddy went to the garage, got out the mower, and began to work. Even though a huge in-ground pool in their back yard took up a lot of area, the Harris property was big, with a lot of grass to mow. He hoped that, like other times he mowed the yard, Mrs. Harris would come out and lounge around the pool. Buddy saved the area near the pool until last, so if Mrs. Harris came out, he'd be able to watch her.

All morning he worked without seeing Mrs. Harris. He'd cut everything but the grass near the pool and was starting to feel disappointed. Maybe she wasn't going to come out today. But, when he'd about given up hope, she came out and waved to him. He turned off the mower.

"Lunch time!" Mrs. Harris called.

Buddy went in the house, washed his hands, and sat down at the kitchen table. Mrs. Harris, as usual, had enough food for three people. He ate ravenously. Smiling, Marla watched him as he ate.

"Had enough?" she asked when he finished.

"Heck, yes," he replied. "I'm stuffed." He sat back in his chair.

"It's nice to have you here," she said. "You make me feel like my cooking is special."

"Ah, it is. It's really good!" Buddy told her. He wasn't lying. Marla Harris wasn't just gorgeous, she was a fine cook, too.

"You're quite the flatterer," Marla said. She smiled and blushed a little. Buddy thought it made her even more beautiful. "You've grown into quite a handsome young man," she continued, "It seems like just yesterday you started doing our lawn."

Buddy felt himself get hot. He knew he was blushing, and felt very, very uncomfortable.

"Ah...I guess I, ah, better get back to the yard," he stammered. He pushed himself away from the table and got up. "Thanks for lunch."

"You're welcome, Buddy," Marla said.

Buddy resumed mowing and eventually the section around the pool was all that remained to be done. Filled with anticipation, he watched for Mrs. Harris, hoping she'd come out for some sun. He kept looking toward the house. At one point he almost drove the mower into the flowerbed. His hopes were finally realized when Marla Harris emerged from the house and started for the pool.

Buddy almost fell off the mower when he saw that Mrs. Harris was wearing a tiny white string bikini that left very little to the imagination. His breath caught and his heart started to pound. Mrs. Harris's body was even more fantastic than he'd imagined! He gulped and kept staring in her direction.

Marla Harris walked toward the pool slowly, her heart pounding, extremely conscious of her young admirer's wide-eyed gaze. What Buddy didn't know was that she'd been fantasizing about him, too. Her husband, Tom, spent a lot of time away on business trips and their sex life had fallen off to almost nothing. Every time Buddy came over and followed her every move with his adoring eyes, Marla experienced a thrill. At thirty-six she still carried just under a hundred and thirty pounds on her five foot eight inch frame. Her breasts were firm and filled the 34C bras she wore just fine. Her waist remained a tidy twenty-four inches and her hips retained the same thirty-three inch measurement they'd had in high school. She hadn't been able to bear children and worked out regularly, so her stomach remained nearly flat and had no stretch marks. She wore her long mass of wild, wavy hair bleached into a golden blonde hue. For her trip to the pool, she had it wound up in a French twist held in place with a spring clip.

"Maybe," she often thought, "Buddy would like to help me do something about my frustrations." Then, feeling guilty, she would force the thoughts from her mind. Until the next time the young man came over.

She bought the swimsuit - far more daring than any suit she'd ever dared buy before - for the express purpose of breaking through Buddy's reserve. She got it out every time he came over that summer, but she'd never worn it before today. The reality was she was afraid to wear the suit and to come on to Buddy. What if he didn't respond to her advances? Rejection by her husband was bad enough; rejection by Buddy would crush her.

Today was different. Screwing up her courage, Marla put the suit on and went outside. "Too late to turn back now," she thought as she walked down the back steps and started across the lawn toward the pool. She could feel herself trembling and her heart was pounding. What if Buddy didn't find her attractive? She felt like running back into the house and changing, but didn't. At last she reached the pool and laid down on a chaise lounge, surprised to discover she was filled with anticipation and growing excitement.

Buddy waved to Mrs. Harris. She waved back and he almost ran the lawnmower into a flowerbed again. He felt his penis begin to swell in the tight confines of his jeans. Moving closer and closer, he finished the lawn, keeping an eye on the lovely woman the whole time.

Marla watched him, smiling. She giggled softly when she saw how disconcerted he was. Her daring suit was having the desired effect. Perhaps she had been right to buy it. Maybe something would happen. She was surprised how warm she felt. Lying in the sun usually didn't warm her this much.

Buddy finished mowing, put the mower away, washed his hands, and walked back to the pool. He was having trouble breathing, and he had problems walking, too. He shouldn't have worn such a tight pair of jeans. When he got to the pool, he sat in one of the lawn chairs next to where Mrs. Harris lay and continued to gaze at her.

"All done with the mowing?" Marla asked.

"Yeah," Buddy replied. He couldn't take his eyes off her. The top of her suit barely covered her breasts - which he'd fondled so often in his dreams - and the tiny bottom showed him reality was far more exciting than fantasy. Her beautifully tanned skin gleamed with a slight film of perspiration.

"Do you like my new suit?" Marla asked softly.

"Um, ah, yeah! I-I sure do!" Buddy replied. His voice sounded funny to him. He should be coming on like a suave dude and he sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk. Swell!

"This is the first time I've worn it," Marla told him.

Buddy sat and stared at her. His penis hurt from the way his pants cut across it and he was sweating. He grabbed the arms of the chair to keep her from seeing that his hands were shaking.

"Buddy, would you do me a favor?" she asked.

"I'd kill for you. I'd move mountains, I'd swim the English Channel!" Buddy thought. "Um...ah...sure," he stammered.

"I can't reach my back to put on suntan lotion," Marla said. "Could you do it for me?"

"She wants me to touch her!" Buddy thought. His rigid cock jumped in his pants. Hands shaking, he picked up the tanning lotion, fumbled with the cap, finally got it open, and squeezed some lotion onto his hands. Rubbing it between his hands to warm it, he moved toward the alluring woman.

Marla watched - fascinated and excited - while Buddy blundered with the lotion container. "He's more nervous than I am!" she realized with pleasure. She rolled on her belly, waiting, and almost jumped out of her skin when his hand made contact with her back and he began to gently massage the oily fluid into her skin. Every place Buddy touched her tingled. She began to quiver with passion.

Buddy felt Mrs. Harris trembling and pulled his hand away quickly. "Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No! No!" Marla replied quickly. "It's fine." She didn't want to break the delicious spell she could feel developing.

Buddy's hand resumed sliding over her back, with circular motions, caressing her, exciting her.

"That feels sooo good, Buddy," Marla murmured. "I'm glad you were here. I hate having an uneven tan."

Buddy kept massaging the oil into her skin. He had no idea touching a woman could make you feel as good as this. His penis kept swelling and straining against his shorts. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to get up and leave. Maybe, if he took a quick swim, the damn thing would go down.

Marla wasn't the first female Buddy had touched, but this was different. She was an adult and she was beautiful. Her skin was so soft, so supple, and so warm. He'd fantasized about her for so long...

Buddy's touch was incredibly soft and light and soon Marla was bubbling with excitement and anticipation. Tom never made her feel like this, even when they were younger! It was as if Buddy were touching her insides as well as her skin. Her body seethed and simmered with need. She knew the young man was going to run out of places to put lotion if she didn't do something soon. As nervous as he was, he clearly wasn't about to go beyond her back.

"Would you do my legs, too, Buddy?" she asked.

"Um, yeah, sure," Buddy said. He complied gratefully. He didn't want to stop touching her any more than she wanted him to.

"What am I going to do when he's finished with my legs?" Marla thought, afraid that when he was done applying the lotion, Buddy would leave.

"Mowing the grass is hot work," she said. "Would you like something cold to drink?"

Buddy, who felt as if he were about to have heat stroke, gulped and said, "Yeah, you want me to go in the house and get something?"

"I have to get some things anyway," Marla said as she rose gracefully to her feet. "Come on." She started toward the house.

Buddy struggled to his feet, tried to get his rigid dick arranged comfortably, and followed her. The undulations of Mrs. Harris's firm, well-shaped buttocks as she walked ahead of him did little to ease his discomfort. Hell, the bikini bottom was so skimpy he could see her ass crack!

In the kitchen, Marla got two cans of soda out of the refrigerator and handed one to Buddy. Their hands brushed and she jumped at the electric jolt she received from his touch.

Marla looked at the young man carefully. He was quite handsome, and although he wasn't an athlete, he wasn't in bad shape. "Marla, this is wrong!" a voice inside her warned. She ignored the voice and forced herself to smile. "Have you got a steady girl, Buddy?" she asked.

"Ah, no, not really," Buddy replied. "I date some, but there's nobody special."

"I bet a good-looking guy like you doesn't have problems getting dates, do you?" Marla purred.

"Um, no, not really," Buddy muttered. He was sure his jeans were getting tighter. He had to do something. His prick hurt. As tight as his pants were, they'd probably cut off the circulation to his cock, and he had a pretty good idea that wouldn't be too good for him. "Ah, can...can I use the bathroom, Mrs. Harris?" he asked.

"Certainly," Marla replied. "You know where it is." She'd seen the swelling in the young man's crotch when he came into the house and it excited her. He looked huge! She watched him walk out of the kitchen and heard him go up the stairs. If she was going to get what she wanted, now was the time to act. She put her soda down and followed him.

Buddy was in agony. Once he got in the bathroom, he unzipped his jeans and freed his erect penis. It stood out in front of him, harder, more swollen than he ever remembered it being. He grasped it gently and groaned with pleasure. Glistening drops of pre-cum oozed from the tip as his hand began moving up and down on it. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Marla Harris's hand, not his, stroking his cock.

"Ohhhhh!!! Marla, Marla! Yesss!!" he moaned softly.

Marla stood outside the bathroom door listening to the young man's moans. Her hand started to move toward the doorknob but stopped. "What do you think you're doing?" the voice of her conscience demanded. "Do you really want to act like a slut, a bitch in heat with no morals?" The thought had the same effect as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her. She pulled her hand back, as if the bathroom doorknob was red-hot, then she turned and bolted across the hall and into her bedroom, uttering a soft groan as she did. In her bedroom, she threw herself on the bed and began to sob. What had her life come to? She was thirty-six years old and reduced to throwing herself at teenage boys in order to get sexual satisfaction. Wracking sobs of shame and frustration shook her.

After Buddy finished in the bathroom he cleaned himself up and walked out into the hallway. He turned and took a step toward the kitchen when he heard a sound that caused him to stop in his tracks. It sounded as if someone was crying. Really crying. And the sounds seemed to be coming from Mrs. Harris' bedroom. He listened and this time he was positive that what he heard was Mrs. Harris crying. He wasn't sure why she was crying, whether he'd had something to do with making her upset, or what to do about it. He walked back and stood in front of her bedroom door, then he raised his hand to knock on the door. He paused. Should he try to see what was wrong with her, or should he just go home and leave her alone?

Another round of wrenching sobs came from behind the closed door and that helped Buddy make up his mind. He made a fist and knocked gently on the door. "Mrs. Harris?" he called. There was no answer. He knocked again. "Mrs. Harris?" he called, louder this time.

Marla heard the boy calling and was as unsure about what to do as Buddy had been. She could hear the concern in his voice. That meant he must have heard her crying. She sniffled a little, grabbed some tissue from a box on the nightstand next to the bed, and blew her nose.

"Mrs. Harris, are you all right?" Buddy called again. He was starting to get worried.

Marla took a deep breath. She had to respond to him. It didn't look as if he was about to go away. "I...I'm all right, Buddy," she called. "Look...I...why...why don't you go...go out and have a seat in the living room? I'll be...I'll be right out."

Buddy was glad she'd responded to him, and that she said she'd be out. He walked down the hallway, into the living room, and sat down on the sofa.

Marla blew her nose again, then she got off the bed. She was about to turn and walk to the door when she realized she still had the skimpy bikini on. "I'm not sure this is exactly the best outfit to be wearing when I talk with Buddy," she thought. "It's already caused enough grief." Instead of taking the swimsuit off she walked to her bedroom closet, got out a floor-length, fluffy, terrycloth robe, and slipped it on over her swimsuit. "There, that's a lot better," she thought. Then she unclipped her hair, shook her head, and let the wavy blonde mass tumble down over her shoulders. She took another deep breath, then she headed for the bedroom door.

Buddy was surprised and a little disappointed when Mrs. Harris appeared in the living room wearing the terrycloth robe. He'd hoped to see her in the bikini again. She walked over to the sofa and sat down on it a little distance from him, folding her legs under her as she did.

Marla took a deep breath. "Buddy," she said, "I want to apologize to you. I need to apologize..."

"For what?" the young man replied, interrupting her.

"For the way I've been acting," Marla said.

The teenager looked confused. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"He is so innocent," Marla thought. "I wonder if he's a virgin?" She took a deep breath and forced her thoughts back to where she wanted them to be. "Buddy, I...I know you have a crush on me..." She paused briefly, seeing a look she couldn't define in the young man's eyes. "And...and I've taken advantage of that," she continued. "I've been teasing you and I shouldn't be doing that."

Buddy wasn't sure what to say. He was shocked to hear that Mrs. Harris knew of his crush on her, but he didn't mind the teasing, not at all. "It's...it's OK," he said softly.

Marla shook her head. "No, Buddy, it isn't 'OK,'" she said. "I...I've been..." Another wave of guilt over what she'd been thinking swept over her and, without warning, she burst into tears.