Mrs Young Ch 01

Michael Young had been one of my good buddies for years. We met when we were only in middle school. I don't recall how exactly we came to be friends, but I guess we just had a lot in common. Mostly from the types of movies we were interested in, to smoking occasionally, and all the way to sex and the types of girls we liked. I had never had a friend as close as him. He basically lived at my house when he was bored of his. I rarely stayed at his place but I was still close with his parents. Michael's mom was just a teenager when she had him. Not like mine though. If Michael's mom was older, I think she would have gotten along with my mom. But they never did kick it off. And I hated that age had such an affect on things like that; whether you liked someone as a friend or not.

Michael's dad spent most of his time working, as he delivered things across the country. A tractor trailer was his home for 330 days out of the year. I knew Michael and his mom didn't see him much so it was just the two of them most of the time.

***

It was a rare occasion. My mom and dad had to go out of town one weekend. My grandma lived all the way on the opposite side of the country and my parents needed to be there.

At the time, I was hoping to have the house to myself. I hardly ever had time alone and it suddenly looked like I was about to catch a break to do as I pleased at home all alone. But my parents weren't having none of that.

I had to be stuck at Michael's all weekend. Not that it bothered me to be around my best buddy. I was just looking forward to being alone to have the house all to myself. Michael's mom was completely fine with me staying the whole weekend too.

Michael and I were seniors in high school. I was nineteen; a year older than him. His mom was bragging about how much we both had grown and how she remembered when we were shorter and our voices squeaked while we were still going through puberty.

The three of us were sitting in the living room at around 8pm watching Wipe Out on TV. Michael and I occupied the long couch while his mom was sitting on the shorter one.

"I still remember that one night Michael's dad was in and the four of us went out to that Mexican restaurant," Mrs. Young started as she giggled.

I grinned, knowing how much she liked to push at my buttons. I used to turn a bright shade of red when she talked about past stories with me in them, and I knew she was trying to embarrass me. "No, not this story," I said, slouching into the back of the couch.

I saw Michael roll his eyes before his mom continued. "Like four years ago when the two of you had just started high school. Both so short and nerdy," she laughed to herself as she leaned forward. I looked away from her and tried to stop my smile. I didn't want to give her any more reason to go on. Beside me, Michael was trying his best to ignore her.

"Mom, shut up," he complained. "We know this story. I couldn't stop staring at the waitress' boobs and Matt wouldn't stop blushing."

"Hey!" I spoke up, "she was attractive and I was nervous."

"I know," Michael said.

"It was just cute," Mrs. Young smiled at the two of us. "And now you're both grown up. Such handsome, nice, young boys."

The B word. I wasn't a boy. I was a man. We both were. But neither of us felt like explaining to her that at 19-years-old, we were already men. We were men when we were 18 even!

I could see Michael rolling his eyes once more but I didn't do the same. I returned a smile to Mrs. Young just to be polite.

We watched Wipe Out for at least another half hour. I kept glancing at Michael and his mom. He had looked somewhat bored but Mrs. Young seemed completely content with the time she was spending with us. I watched her tuck a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear then she lifted her legs up onto the couch and crossed them Indian style. She was probably the youngest mom I'd ever known. It was hard thinking of her being with Mr. Young and getting pregnant when she was about our age. Her figure was perfect and it always had been since the day I had first met her when Michael invited me over about six years before.

I noticed she had been drinking a small glass of wine before we even sat down in the living room earlier in the night. She was holding it in her hand, and I remember how easy she made it look. She didn't even have to try to look attractive. I never told Michael that I thought his mom was hot. I'm sure he knew I thought it, but I'd never say it to his face. That's just something you don't do. Ever.

"Well, boys," Mrs. Young spoke up, "I'm gonna head to bed." I watched her stand up from her spot on the couch with her empty wine glass in hand and she disappeared into the kitchen. She clumsily walked back out and leaned a little too far to the right, sliding her shoulder against the wall. She ascended up the stairs without looking back down at us.

***

"I'm gonna go to bed too, man," Michael said a few minutes later. "Where are you crashin'?" He asked.

"I guess I'll get a blanket and sleep here," I told him, referring to the couch I was already sitting on. It's where I normally slept when I stayed at his place.

"Alright," he said then stood up from where he had been sitting, "see you at breakfast."

He skipped some steps as he made his way up the stairs. I stayed where I was for a little while longer watching TV. Family Guy was on and I watched half an episode of it before I decided to go look for a blanket for the night.

I traveled up the stairs, leaving the light behind as I went higher. The hallway was dark when I reached the second floor, but I knew which direction to start walking. I stopped at the hallway closet and took out my phone to light up the shelves so I could see. There were only a couple sets of sheets and a really itchy blanket that I only had the nerve to use once while I stayed here. Never again.

I stepped back to look at the top shelf to see two rubber dumbbells and a first-aid kit.

"What are you looking for?"

I jumped away from the quiet voice to my right. I wasn't expecting it at all. I was greeted by a smiling Mrs. Young. I noticed she had her hair up in a messy bun and was wearing shorts and a tank top. I also noticed she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. She really didn't need one. I always noticed that her breasts were very perky; even for her age. And the size of them were very nice.

"Jesus, Mrs. Young!" I said. She laughed at my jumpiness. "You scared me."

"Sorry, hun," she said, opening the closest door wider to see what I might have been after.

"I was looking for a blanket." I informed her after my heart rate slowed down from the scare.

I saw her reach for the itchy blanket from hell and pulled it from the shelf. "Uhh," I gave her a look, "anything but that."

She grinned, "Hmm, I know what you mean," I watched her pet at the blanket, obviously realizing how itchy it felt. "I might have an extra blanket in my room for you."

"Okay," I said. She stuffed the blanket back onto the shelf in the closet then turned to walk back up the hallway towards her room. I closed the closet door and followed close behind her.

"So," she started as we entered her bedroom. I looked around. Everything was so neat except for her unmade bed, "what do you boys plan on getting into tomorrow?" She asked. I suspected she was just trying to make conversation while she searched for a blanket.

I shrugged my shoulders as I walked further into the room, "I don't know. We'll find something like we always do." I told her.

"So spontaneous," she commented. "I used to be a lot like that when I was your age."

"I'm sure you still are," I said.

She giggled brightly and glanced back at me for a second, "Those days are far behind me, Matthew." She said. I grinned at her. I didn't know how to reply, so I didn't.

She grabbed one of the blankets off of her own bed instead of looking through the wooden chest placed at the end of the bed like I thought she would. "You'd think I'd get lonely sleeping alone every night. But I don't. I actually like having the bed all to myself."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised that she'd tell me that. Didn't even know why she'd bring that up, but she did. "I guess if you get so used to sleeping alone that makes sense." I replied, not knowing if I even made sense.

She nodded and handed me the soft, dark green blanket. "Good night, Matthew." She said, giving me my cue to leave.

I stepped back toward the door with the blanket under my arm, "Goodnight, Mrs. Young."

***

I stayed awake laying on the couch after I made it back downstairs. I turned the television off so it was completely dark in the living room. I knew I would eventually fall asleep, it just needed to be light-less for me to do so. I kept thinking about Mrs. Young. How she was bra-less and in her shorts. It almost reminded me of one of the cheerleaders I had hooked up with after a football game my junior year. Her black shorts is what had caught my attention.

I felt my cock twitch to life for a split second. Nothing too serious. Not touch worthy. I rested my hands behind my head and closed my eyes. The last thing I thought about before falling asleep was how damn good the blanket on top of me smelled.

***

My eyes snapped open. I don't know if I was just waking up in the middle of the night like normal or if it was because I felt my blanket move on me or what. I looked down, feeling that all too familiar feeling in my groin. My boxers felt tight on my dick and I could clearly see a bulge coming through the blanket.

I rested my head back down on the pillow behind me after realizing it was only my dick that made the blanket move. I moved my hand under the cover to stroke myself slowly. I'd never been so hard this early in the morning. I couldn't even remember having a wet dream. I looked at the time on the DVD player under the TV. It was 5 in the morning. I lifted the blanket and slid the front of my boxers down half way to take my dick out. I didn't like the straining of trying to stroke myself while it was still covered.

I sighed, relaxing my back into the couch. It had been awhile since I'd been able to sit back and jerk off just to do it. Lately all I'd been able to do is have a quick stroke in the shower and then I'd be good to go.

I stopped immediately, half erect, almost fully, when I heard the floor creek upstairs. I left my boxers down and let my cock lay on my stomach. The warmth and hardness of it was begging for me to touch it, but I resisted.

I used the blanket to cover it up. I felt more blood rushing to it and my heart suddenly seemed to be beating louder than normal, reaching all the way down to my dick.

I saw a shadowed figure at the top of the stairs. It started walking down slowly, I thought, maybe trying to adjust their eyes to the dark. Whomever it was, kept their hands on the railing. I heard it as their hands slid all the way down the wood. I made sure that the bulge I was sporting wasn't too obvious, then quickly closed my eyes to fake sleep, just in case they could see me. I wasn't really looking for a conversation at 5 in the morning and having to explain why I was awake to begin with.

I tried to slow down my breathing to really pull off the fake sleep act. I was almost a pro at it now and could easily fool anyone.

I wondered whether it was Michael or Mrs. Young who had walked down stairs. Whatever they were doing, it sounded like they were right beside the couch. It took all that I had to not open my eyes. I didn't even peek, just in case.

I felt the couch dip near the middle where my mid-rift was. Following that, I felt a hand gently run down my arm. I cursed in my head when I twitched. And I knew it was noticeable because the hand moved away from me almost immediately.

I stayed still, listening intently. It was then that I got the scent of Mrs. Young's perfume. The smell was strong and I'd always liked it. I would have been able to pick it out anywhere. I could hear her trying to breathe quietly as she sat on the side of the couch. She even sighed, and it almost sounded like a nervous breath.

What was she doing?

Another surprise, I felt her hand gently rub the side of my face. I successfully kept my cool by not twitching from the touch I didn't see coming. She moved a few strands of my dark brown hair off of my forehead. I felt her leaning forward then she kissed my forehead. My heart leaped, wondering if that had actually just happened.

Only moments ago, I was about to have a relaxing few minutes of jerking off, and now Mrs. Young, my best friends mom, had just came down stairs to kiss my forehead. It wasn't much, but I liked the closeness. And it only made me harder under the blanket. I'd never seen her that way even though I saw her as an attractive person, my thoughts never ventured that much further because of who she was.

I examined closely to where she was touching me. She moved her lips from my forehead and slid her hand down my arm to my wrist. She held it gently, just keeping her hand there. I felt her thumb rub over it as she got herself more comfortable on the couch.

"Matthew," She said, barely whispering it. I don't know why I didn't open my eyes. I just decided not to. And I decided not to reply. I was still set on faking sleep.

Her other hand moved up to the side of my face and rubbed at my cheek. Why was she being so touchy? She was my best friends mom, and she was touching me like we both knew she never should have. Her other hand left my wrist, which strangely felt cold after it wasn't touching me anymore and I didn't like it.

But suddenly, she touched me somewhere else. And without any control my eyes snapped open and my head came up off the pillow. Her hand was on my lap, and I felt her fingertips gliding over the underside of my dick.

"Mrs, Young," I whispered hesitantly. I felt helpless. I didn't know what to do with my hands. First, I thought to remove her hand, but then I didn't. Because well, when a girl touches your cock, you don't do that.

"It's okay, Matthew," she tried to calm me down. The shock of my best friends mom still touching me where she was had still yet to set in all the way.

"What are you doing?" I stupidly asked.

She didn't reply, but I didn't take it that she was ignoring me. The tips of her fingers were still gently playing with my shaft through the blanket. If only she knew that my boxers were already down.

"I want to do this," She replied after a few seconds of silence.

"Mrs. Young," I regretfully protested, "I'm your sons best friend."

"I know, Matthew," She answered calming, wrapping all of her fingers firmly around my dick. I sat up more again, surprised still that she was going further with this. She pushed at my chest, making my back rest on the pillow behind me how it was before.

"We can't do this," I said, and begged in my thoughts that I wouldn't have to put up with much more of the teasing.

"I lied to you," she stated, getting me off guard.

"You lied?" I questioned.

"Upstairs," she said, "I do get lonely sleeping in bed alone. Michael's dad isn't around a lot, you know that,"

"I really don't think this is the answer, Mrs. Young," I shook my head at her. I felt sorry for her. She was basically telling me she was lonely and horny. How was I supposed to flat out say no to that. Especially to her and what she wanted to do.

"I'm not going to beg," She squeezed my cock tighter through the blanket. My mouth slightly opened and I sighed, not having a clue what to say.

"Please, Mrs. Young," I begged, "things will be different after this. It's not a good idea,"

I felt her tugging at the blanket. The only barrier between cock to hand contact.

"Matthew," She whispered as she lowered her head closer to my lap. She had successfully lowered the blanket and I was completely exposed to her.

Her warm breath came down on the shaft of my dick as she got closer and closer, only teasing me along further.

"Fuck," I said under my breath and tossed my head back to rest it on the pillow, frustrated from lack of attention my dick was getting from either hand or mouth. I couldn't reject or stop her anymore, I was going to take it. Best friends mom or not.

Her tongue made contact first, and it made me relax. I sighed and looked down at her, barely being able to see her from the lack of lighting, but her silhouette was just as satisfying.

"Mrs. Young," I whispered, just because I could. I guess in some way I was thanking her for doing what she was doing, the gentlest way I could. Her tongue felt nice. And her lips felt just the same when she began to kiss tiny pecks up and down my shaft.

"Call me Jenny, Matthew," She instructed clearly then kissed the head of my cock slowly.

"Jenny," I said, grabbing her hand just to hold on to it. She squeezed mine lightly with hers and brought her other hand to the base of my dick to keep it straight up in the air, pointing directly at her face. Just for her.

"Hmmm," she hummed, opening her mouth wide to accommodate my girth. Her lips wrapped around me, and I felt that they were already wet, ready to suck me up.

I brought my other hand to the side of her face. I needed to touch her. Some part of her. I don't know why, I just wanted her to know that I did want this, even though I expressed how wrong it was.

Her sucking started very gently, not rough at all. But her tongue was applying pressure big time on the underside of my dick.

"Oh my god," I groaned, trying to keep my voice low. What would Michael do to me if he walked down stairs to see his moms face in my lap? He would kill me. He would literally kill me.

A little drip of Mrs. Yo . . . Jenny's spit dribbled down my rod and settled at my balls. They were painfully waiting to be touched and groped at. Her slow and steady technique was driving me insane.

"Jenny," I started. I needed more.

"Mhhmm," she moaned as a reply, bobbing further down my cock, very slowly. I felt the head of my dick half way in her throat. The squeezing feeling was indescribable.

"Ohh," I groaned again. "Touch my balls," I commanded hesitantly.

Instead of listening to what I wanted, she squeezed at the base of my shaft even harder and took her mouth away from my dick and pumped several times up and down. My mouth opened as she brought my foreskin over the head of my cock repeatedly, not caring how close I was when she did that.

"Mrs. Young," I tensed, "please,"

She stopped, taking both of her hands away from me completely. I looked down at her, wondering what she was doing. My dick had flopped back down on my stomach, but I felt it pulsing with my heart and saw it twitch a few times, begging for more attention.

"Don't stop," I whispered, being able to see her a lot better in the dark now. Her head moved further down between my legs and I moved them apart so she could have a better angle. Her tongue ran across my nut sack, swirling around the sensitive skin. "Ohh yes," I approved, urging her to continue.

I put my hand on the top of her head again and pushed her closer to me. I felt my balls rub across her lips and her chin. She sucked one into her mouth, and I let go of her now that she knew exactly what I wanted.

I jerked myself off as she continued to suck in both of my balls, filling her mouth completely.

She released my balls from her mouth with a pop and pushed my hand away from my dick and let hers take its place. Her hard breathing didn't go unnoticed. I loved that she was out of breath.

Her hair was still up in a messy bun from last night, and it was somehow even more messed up. I leaned forward as she engulfed my cock back into her mouth, deeper this time, and sucked with much more force than she had before. I grabbed at her hair tie and pulled it out of her hair, making it fall down on her back and some onto her face. I put the hair tie around my wrist and grabbed at some of her hair to hold it out of her face, and to pull her down on me more.