Mistletoe Mistress

Tuesday was a blur, but necessary for recovery. Mr. Larson's smoking left me with considerable work to do to wipe away the dulling smell from every surface that was exposed to it. Steaming the carpets, wiping down every surface with proper cleanser, I hoped that the tarry scent would fade. Another exchange of laundry that consisted of pillows, sheets, and blankets were cleaned and returned to the beds.

By the time I was finished, the house was clean enough for a visit from the President of the United States himself. Course, I wouldn't want another guy in the house expecting a blow job, no matter how charismatic he was.

Wednesday morning, about five am, my phone rang. It was still dark outside and I didn't know who could be calling this early.

"Hello?" I spoke tiredly.

"Hey, Madison. It's Mr. Larson."

His gritty voice perked me awake.

"Hi. What's up?" I asked, my heart pounding with worry.

"Oh, just thinkin' about you this mornin'."

He confessed.

"Oh, um," I was at a loss for words, "what about?"

Why did I even ask that? I knew what he was thinking about.

"Well, jus' lookin' around the house here and thinkin' that it could use a woman's touch. I saw you cleanin' up your house last night, and thought you could help an ol' man out today."

"Oh, just some cleaning?" My voice perked up. That wouldn't be too difficult of a request.

"Yeah, just for a few hours. I got everything here, just wanted to see if you could make an ol' man feel like he still had a wife in his home and do some things around the house."

I forgot that he was widowed. He must be lonely not having a woman at home to take care of him. To make him feel wanted and cared for. I felt sorry for him and pouted at the thought that he wanted his home to be cleaned by a woman's touch. It wasn't unreasonable.

"Sure. I could come over a little later."

"Well, if you come over now, we could have a little breakfast 'fore we get started. I got some eggs, bacon, and some biscuits 'n gravy I got workin' over here. Jus' come on over."

He was being kind and I wanted him to stay that way. Especially since upsetting him might make this situation ugly. He could threaten to tell Anna everything and I don't think he wanted to do that.

"Okay, I'll get dressed and be right over." If I got this done early enough, then I'd have more time and energy for David. Better to not upset Mr. Larson.

Jeans were pulled onto my shapely legs, and ankle socks on my feet. A sweater was put over my tank top I was wearing while cleaning yesterday. No sense in changing unless I had to. I slipped on my boots and jacket, then exited through the back door. Walking across the shoveled walk, the sky was still night blue. Crossing over the alleyway, I walked up the back porch steps of Mr. Larson's house and knocked.

I heard him approach and open the door. As it swung inward, the smell of cooking wafted across my nose at the same time the warmth hit my face.

"Good morning, Madison. Come on in." He was wearing a green plaid robe and a pair of brown slippers. No cigarette in his mouth, which was a plus since I didn't like it.

"Morning, Mr. Larson." I stepped inside, and surprisingly, the house didn't smell like smoke.

"Aw, call me Bill. No sense in being proper." I half expected each room to smell like tar and old cigarettes. Perhaps he didn't smoke inside of his house, which explains why everything looked fairly untouched. Some dust, but nothing too bad. This wouldn't be so difficult of a clean-up.

"Alright, Bill." I removed my jacket and hung it up on the coat rack mounted to the back of the door. Setting my boots onto the mat that had all of his shoes sitting on it, I turned around to approach the kitchen table. Bill was back at the stove, finishing up breakfast. There was a radio sitting on top of the fridge tuned to a jazz radio station. It reminded me of David, and thankfully it was chilly enough outside that my blush of arousal could pass for being cold.

Noticing that he had two plates, two cups, and two sets of silverware at the table, I picked up the cup. Pouring myself some coffee that was finished brewing on the counter, he turned to look at me.

"Coffee drinker, huh?" He asked.

"I do love my coffee." I said, filling it with cream and sugar.

"You're making it the same way that Beverly did. Lots of cream, lots of sugar." He said with a smile in his voice. In many ways, Bill had the same situation that I did. Our loved ones weren't near. Here I was, all by myself in the house I grew up in, and he was alone in the house that he raised and supported a family. Now, it was an empty nest.

"Hm," I took a drink, and holy shit, the coffee was strong! I was glad I left room for plenty of cream and sugar, because I wasn't sure how this man drank this strong of coffee. I returned to my seat, just in time for hot bacon and scrambled eggs to be served to me.

"Wanna biscuit and gravy?" He asked.

"Sure." I said. Why not have a meal? I had been living off of sandwiches and snacks. Having a substantial meal at the start of this day would probably help me get through it. After he portioned the breakfast for the two of us, I smiled and set my coffee down. Placing a napkin in my lap, I picked up my silverware.

"This looks good."

"Dig in. After we eat, we'll go over the chores I'd like you to get to." He opened up the newspaper and started reading. I was quietly cutting into the biscuit and eating each food on my plate one at a time.

It was nice to just sit with someone after spending nearly three weeks alone with cinnamon toast and coffee. This would also serve as a good distraction before I went to David's house tonight by passing the time.

It was about half an hour, and the sky was still a pretty shade of dark blue outside. I was never up this early except in the summer during cheerleading camp. If I had time, I would take a nap before meeting with David tonight.

Once we were both finished eating, he picked up the plates and set them into the sink. Bill walked over to me and held out his hand. I placed my hand into his and he helped me up, then guided me toward the rest of the house.

The interior was an open farmhouse pattern. There was a swinging door separating the dining room from the kitchen. Then, there was a sitting room that connected off of the dining room which was the room that held the stairway going upstairs and led into a side den and living room across from one another. This room also had the front door leading out to the front porch. Off of the living room was a play room turned into a lower bathroom.

Every wall had pictures hung of his family. His four boys that were all grown up, and dozens of pictures of grandchildren, his wife, and their happy lives together. Once more, I expected the home to smell like an ashtray, pleasantly surprised at how clean he kept the house. Was this really about cleaning or was it about being alone? I wasn't complaining. Perhaps some vacuuming and wiping down some surfaces that were dusty would suffice for him.

"Alright, Madison. As you can tell, I've done my best to keep this place lookin' alright, but I just have trouble gettin' in behind furniture with the vacuum." He said.

"Well, that shouldn't be an issue. Nothing looks really heavy to move or get around." The corners did appear a little dusty, same with some of the curtains, shelves, and pictures.

"Glad to hear that. My hands just get too tired having to dust down everything. So, a little vacuuming, a little dusting. Think you can handle that?" He asked.

"Not a problem." I said, removing my sweater so I could get started. I walked toward the closet under the stairs and spotted the vacuum. Just as I was about to reach for it, Mr. Larson's hands were on my hips. I gasped and froze.

His bony hands reached around to the front of my jeans and unbuttoned them. His fingers grasped the hem of my tank top and untucked it.

"One more thing," he said quietly in his deep tone, "you're gonna be naked for this."

The sound of my zipper grated as he pulled it down, his hands pushed down on my jeans and panties until they pooled at my feet. He gripped the hem of my tank top and pulled up. My arms instinctively raised, and he lifted my tank top over my head. He pulled on the tie holding my wavy hair in a ponytail.

Once I was nude, he turned me around and looked down over me. He pulled in a deep breath and let out a soft sigh. He hugged me into his robed front and tilted my chin up to kiss me. When he did, he was moaning in the back of his throat the entire time. Only when he breathed was he quiet, and then right back to that long, throaty humming while his tongue danced against mine. It felt like forever, with his arms clutching around my bare back, sliding down over my ass and groping me while we kissed.

I didn't like the idea of being coerced into physical and sexual touch, but the alternative was that he would speak of my indiscretions with David. I moaned lightly and hesitantly wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He groaned louder and pulled away. He panted and looked down over me, marveling at the sight of my teenage figure. His thumb swiped down my bottom lip and held my chin.

"I won't get in your way, little girl. Get to work." He said tenderly. The pet name grated on me again, and I stepped out of my pants. Leaving my socks on, I didn't notice that he reached down to pick up my jeans, sweater, and tank top. Bill retreated to the steps, walking upstairs with my clothes and leaving me to start cleaning.

Quietly, I sighed in resignation and pulled the vacuum out of the closet. At least it was clean, and had a hose attachment. I walked it over into the living room where I'd start, but I always worked top to bottom. Heading toward the kitchen, I was glad all the curtains were drawn and it was early in the morning. No one would really see or catch me over here in my current state.

A dishcloth, a pair of wash gloves, and a bottle of ammonia would make quick work of all of the dusting. Even though I consented to this, I was annoyed that I was doing everything naked. By the time I returned to the living room, Bill was sitting on a sofa chair, watching the weather channel. No better time than to start by dusting the entertainment center.

I could feel his eyes roaming over me as I stood on my tip toes, my figure flexing as I reached the top of the television stand to dust the top. Each compartment was wiped down, and every picture frame was carefully handled. The television and VHS player were next. I got down onto my knees to help me out, and I thought I heard him groan.

Turning to look at Mr. Larson, the lower half of his robe was open, and his boner was flexing the front of his tighty-whitey underwear. His legs were straddled out as far as they could go in the chair, clearly making a show of his arousal when I looked over. There was a subtle smirk across his stubbled lips while he watched me clean. I felt so violated.

Going back to my task, I just had to power through this. My face filled with heat and my cheeks were beet red when I was reaching down to clean the lower shelves of the entertainment center. My lower half was in full view of Mr. Larson. I could have turned the other way, but I imagined this is what he was picturing when he wanted me to clean his house in the buff. If I complied by showing him exactly what he wanted to see, perhaps this could end sooner.

I heard him shuffle in his seat, and I stood up from the carpet. Turning toward him, he had removed his underwear and started stroking his shaft while I worked. Seeing that there was an end table next to him, I walked over in his direction and bent over while I dusted it. He was moaning quietly in my direction. The sound of his hand chafing his member was distracting. I felt like a piece of meat, but this was what I deserved for not hiding when I thought I had been caught the other night.

Mr. Larson may not have even known it was me if I hadn't felt so bold and approached the moon-filled patio door, making it easy to identify me. The lamp was off and the glass beneath it was wiped down quickly. The shelf at the base of the table was cleaned down, holding only a bowl of fake fruit. I kneeled down next to the sofa and cleaned each piece of fruit before returning it back to where it was.

"Stay on your knees, little girl." He said, his breathing elevated.

I glanced toward him, unable to hide that this was uncomfortable for me, but he wasn't phased by my expression. His hand continued stroking up and down his solid nine-inch rod and knew that the longer I stayed, the more pleasure he could take. The next closest thing was the coffee table. Folding the cloth to a clean side, I wet it with ammonia. I crawled on my hands and knees to the table, and Mr. Larson was still pleasuring himself.

The coffee table had a few dried rings from glasses, and some open magazines and mail on top. I organized them. Some of the magazines belonged to Beverly, such as Good Housekeeping. Beneath them, however, were Playboy mags. They were open to the spread of girls who looked similar to me. About four magazines where each bunny model had matching hair color, eyes, or build. It sent a chill down my spine, and I didn't linger on the pages, just closed and stacked them in order of their issue number.

Mr. Larson had been planning this for a long time. I imagined it was since he knew I was alone, he was waiting for some opportunity to present itself. I gave him that window and he opened it. I was kicking myself in the ass over this. Was this worth the relationship I had with David? Was any of it real? I knew how I felt about David, but I didn't know how David felt about me.

My hand was wrapped around a floor lamp, dusting it from base to neck, and the stroking motion of my hand must've set him off, because Bill was groaning and panting quicker. At this point, I felt like it wasn't as big of a deal. If he was masturbating while I worked in the nude, perhaps that would satisfy him. It wasn't going to take me all that long. He was just watching. He could have been doing so much more to me.

The entry room was next and Mr. Larson's cock hadn't exploded yet. He was panting as he got up from his seat in the living room. Bill followed me with an open robe and his underwear discarded in the living room. I was wiping down the square glass pane inside of the front door. Very suddenly, he approached me from behind. I gasped when his weight pushed me forward and my breasts pressed against the cold glass pane. His hands went to my wrists and his cock was nested between my cheeks.

"Mmm, you feel so soft, little girl," he moaned in my ear. He grinded against my backside, feeling his cock nestle between the crevice of my cheeks, moving up and down for his aching need. My breasts were cold against the glass that formed a fog around the outline of my pressed figure. His mouth cupped and nibbled over the side of my neck. God, that was a sensitive spot.

"You said you wouldn't get in my way," I spoke gently, trying not to moan. He hummed against my neck and sucked on a spot until it hurt. Letting it go with a pop of his lips, he released my wrists and smoothed his hands down my curvy figure.

"Can't help it, you're such a tease." I couldn't believe I was hearing that. This was what he wanted, now I was a tease?

"You've been all by yourself yearning for a man to call your own." He kissed down my neck, not missing a single sensitive spot.

He turned me around, and his hand steered my chin to his. Our lips touched and he was humming again like he did before. Against the glass panel in the middle of his wooden front door, he kept me pressed. I suppose having an indiscretion with a widowed man wasn't as shameful as a married man. Still, the thought that neighbors would see me here concerned me. The morning was approaching, and there would be activity going on down his front street soon.

His cock throbbed against my belly, and I could feel precum oozing down my navel while we kissed. His hands clutched my breasts and his pelvis was pressed into my stomach. I wanted him to stop, since I had rested over the last two days so that I could be with David. Though, he knew that. I kicked myself for letting him know the truth as to when I was seeing him again. He did this on purpose.

Once he had his fill of fondling my front, he returned to my neck, nibbling my skin. He could hear it in my breathing and I liked the feeling of it. He sucked and dragged his teeth against the vein along my throat and clamped his thin fingers around my fat breasts. He pulled away and claimed my hand.

He guided me upstairs. The top step was across from a bedroom, and next to the stairway on the left was another bedroom. Down the hall, there was a long closet across from the bathroom, and at the end of the hall was the master bedroom. Mr. Larson guided us in that direction, gripping my hand. My heart was pounding quickly. I was quite certain of what he wanted.

"Didn't you want me to finish cleaning, Mr. Larson?" I asked him as he opened the door to his bedroom. The bed was king sized, with a bed frame made from old polished brass pipes. A dresser on either side of the bed, with bedside tables across from one another. Across from the bed was a tall and narrow entertainment center. It had a 32 inch television sitting on top of it with a VHS installed into the television set.

"You can finish it later." He said hastily and closed the door. He turned the door key and locked us inside. Over in the corner was an open safe about three feet tall. He had my clothes in it and he placed the key inside of the safe. Once he closed the door on the safe, I felt foolish. I let this man trap me in his bedroom and now there wasn't any doubt of what was about to happen.

I was shivering on the inside, feeling the floor fall out from beneath me. He asked when I was seeing David so that he could be the one to spend the night with me, I'm sure of it.

"Get yourself comfortable, baby." He said without looking at me. He turned on his television, which was muted, but had static. There was a blank VHS tape that he put into the machine and pushed play. He turned the volume up about twenty clicks. The movie was a porno, and was in the middle of a scene. An old man and a young girl who looked similar to me. She was laying between the old man's thighs, sucking his dick.

I hadn't watched porn before, and it warmed my muscles on the inside. I knew it was taboo to the church. I could barely breathe or swallow. I was aroused by what I was watching. There was this young girl moaning while her lips were wrapped around a large cock. My face was flush, and I had become so distracted that I had lost sight of Mr. Larson's movements.

He managed to creep next to me and placed a hand on my arm and shoulder. I jumped, but he chuckled and kissed my lips quickly. Mr. Larson ushered me onto the extremely creaky bed and I lied down in the middle. His boner was stiffer than a board. Eagerly, he didn't wait at all and grabbed my knees to open my legs.

Laying down on top of me, his mouth cupped over mine and he moaned at the feeling of skin against skin. He was grinding his waist on top of mine, letting his steel erection slide against my slit. Friction was building, and he didn't allow me to leave the kiss. He pressed my head into the pillow and moaned while his tongue was sweeping against mine. I put my arms around him, but I didn't want to. This was something he knew I needed to comply with, but he expected that I would run away.

The porn in the background was a distraction, but one that kept me focused on what he wanted. Every time the girl was moaning with her mouth full, I felt tingles through my nipples. Anytime the old man was groaning, so was Mr. Larson.