Mrs. Young

*Author Note: The writing tense has been altered from past to present tense from this chapter going forward.*

I help in cleaning up the kitchen. This seems to surprise Mrs. Young. She is smiling more now than she had been earlier. There is a different glow about her.

The floor creaks loudly above us and out of reflex, I move away from her. The noise reminds me that we are not alone.

I wait to see if I can hear any further movement from Michael upstairs. The humming buzz of the bathroom fan comes to life through the ceiling, following the rumble of rushing water from shower.

Mrs. Young and I glance at each other at the same time with the revelation of this newly found time alone, daring the other to be the first to make some kind of move while Michael is in the shower.

What now?

It's almost three in the afternoon. The light patter of rain hitting the kitchen windows is soothing, but not as soothing as this woman's determined gaze locked on me.

"What am I supposed to do about you?" She asks, her voice so soft as she stands on the opposite side of the kitchen from me.

I'm silent and my heart leaps in my chest at hearing her borderline provocative words. A self reaction I wasn't expecting from such a seemingly innocent question.

She slowly moves toward me. My hands rest behind me on the edge of the counter as she approaches. Her eyelids look heavy even as she looks up at me. A look that your best friends mom shouldn't normally be allowed to give you.

I can feel myself getting hard from her close presence. Getting hard from just the thought of going up her skirt in the this very kitchen earlier today. Hell, the thought of that alone will do it for me for the rest of my life, I think.

We were almost caught by Michael. It was so close. I can't say I didn't enjoy the feeling of the risk. The horrified, embarrassed look on Mrs. Young's face oddly enough turned me on even more.

What was I expecting to happen? Was I going to get her off right there on the kitchen floor going up her skirt like that? Then what?

I'm supposed to be going home. My parents are coming back today. I've just been waiting on their call. The disappointment I feel. It's a bottled up feeling. Clogged would be a good word to describe it. What do I need? And her question still stands. What is she supposed to do about me?

What am I going to do about her?

"Matt?" Her voice hitches in question.

"Whatever you want." My voice comes out almost hoarse. My mouth is dry and I feel light headed in the best way.

I could come up with at least one reason for that. I'm rock hard leaning back against this counter in front of her, all the blood rushing to one place to bring it further to life, if that's at all possible.

Jenny's hand comes up to rest on my chest. My heart would jump right out if it were open. Her finger tips glide down my abdomen, lingering at the waist of my belted jeans.

My hard on is so obvious it feels like there's a third person in the room. I know it's her target right now. I want nothing more than for her to touch me there again.

"Matthew," she whispers. Her finger tips sneak just beneath my T-shirt to feel the skin there. She moves even closer to me until her body is saddled up right next to mine. I lower my head down to hers and rest there against her with closed eyes and shallow breaths.

She has to know what she is doing to me. If I could just rub my body against her I think that would set me off, quite embarrassingly. It would be that simple. I feel like I'm about to jerk off for the first time.

"Does that hurt?" She asks, fingers still teasingly touching the skin at the waist of my jeans.

I nod, although considering that it doesn't really hurt, rather my dick is letting itself be known and basically shouting, "I'm here. Touch me please!" I want to move my hips toward her from her acknowledgment of the growing pain, but I stay in place. I should behave. I don't want this to end sooner than it should.

"Hmm," she hums, fingers moving higher now underneath my shirt up to my chest. I feel the coolness of her rings on my skin there, knowing one of those is her wedding ring. Her other hand reaches for my abdomen again and rests there, feeling between the ridges of my muscles. I smile. What is she doing?

"Mrs. Young, are you feeling me up?" I ask, amused when I realize what's happening.

"Hm?" Her head raises to get a better look at my face and her expression softens when she sees mine.

"I am." She says shamelessly.

"As long as you're admitting it." I laugh lightly with her. Her cheeks are pink. It's the first time I've seen her show any kind of a flustered emotion. She's been so good at hiding what she's really feeling.

"Touch me." I request after a moment.

Even though her hands are all over me, she knows where I'm referring to. She looks down, her touch abandoning my stomach to travel more south.

She's not fast enough. Her fingers are trailing the top of my leather belt by the time I decide to make the decision. I take her hand and place it over the crotch of my jeans.

"Matthew," she scolds me, her eyes meeting mine. She's trying to show a shocked expression, but I only see the approval of a lustful one. In fact, her eyes look very glazed over. You were going to touch me there anyway, I think to myself.

"Oh, who did that?" I deflect, moving my hand away while hers stays right where I placed it.

Her eyes go wild and her smile widens. She can't believe me, that look says. Her hand holds pressure on my cock, but she makes no other movement. Her touch is so relieving; however, not even close to being enough. I want more.

"You're so different." She comments, eyes still on my face. A quizzical look directed at me.

"How so?" I say and wonder why we're still talking right now and not doing something else while we still can. Anything else!

She shrugs, "I don't know. The other day, you were my sons shy, little friend. Today you're..."

"I'm what?"

"Your Matt."

I know what she's trying to say, but it's all confusing. Ever since she "woke me up" the other night with her hand on my dick, everything has changed. It's all different now.

"Am I different to you now?" She asks, a worried look on her face.

I wonder why she is worried about that though?

I place my hand back on hers. Her fingers have started to cup around my cock now through the dark denim. My breath feels shaky and I attempt to control it before I speak again.

"Yeah, but it's good. This is good."

"How do you see me now?" She pushes.

"Are we still talking about this?" I try to tease her questioning. I roughly bring her hand against me again and feel my balls lift and return back down when I release the pressure against her.

"Matthew." She scolds me.

"Matt." I correct her.

Her hand tightens around me on her own this time. I sigh and lower my head back down to hers. I'm so hard and about all I can manage to concentrate on is her touching me.

"I see you. Much differently than before." I say. I feel like I'm putting random words together that I think will make sense, fully intending them to and trying to actually mean what I say. "Your still Michaels' mom. But your also someone I'm so attracted to. More than before. It's wrong." I pause, thinking, "But it's right." I've admitted this to her already before in a different way, but I know she wants me to say it again.

We're quiet, standing there for a few seconds. I feel one of her fingers rubbing through the denim again against my dick. It feels like my zipper is going to burst open any second from the pressure.

"This doesn't feel real," she says. She leans further into my side as we both watch her hand. I wrap my arm around her waist to keep her close.

I nudge against her playfully as her hand seems to be moving on its own accord. "It's real." I tell her.

Her eyes find mine again and she holds the stare as her hand leaves my dick. I groan, displeased. And then her hand is resting against the side of my face, forcing me to look at her.

From the hold I have her in beside me, she moves to stand just in front of me, hand still on my face, her other one on my chest. I watch her curiously. I think I would let this woman do anything to me right now. Anything she wanted. I would submit to whatever it was. A rush of random and pure pleasure shoots through me at the thought. I sigh with a shaky breath and swallow hard.

Expectedly, she comes closer to me, her eyes focused on my lips. I feel her body relax completely against mine when she kisses me. Her stomach rubs against my cock with just the right amount of friction. Before I realize what I'm doing, my hands are in her hair and I'm kissing her back.

A moan slips from her as I swap our position to guide her back against the counter in the corner.

"Matt," she's breathless watching me take control. I pull away and push down on her shoulder and she lowers down in front of me in the corner without question. My eyes are glued to her face to see her reaction while my ear is trained on the sound of the shower water still running upstairs. The noise from the running dish washer behind me to my left is also standing out. I try to keep my full focus on the noises upstairs.

Jenny's hands immediately grab at both of my thighs and her eyes are noticeably looking at the bulge in my jeans. I step closer to her, forcing her to look up and the bulge of my hard on rubs against her neck. Her mouth opens slightly and I lift my shirt up, holding it between my chin and chest so it won't be in the way and I can have the best view of her.

I step back again and her hands are on me, running up my stomach and my chest. Knowing where she'll touch me next, I close my eyes and let my head fall back. My shirt fall back down and her hands are there to raise it back up for me, groping me at the same time.

Looking back down, her fingers are unzipping my jeans and she pulls my underwear down just enough.

I sigh when my cock is finally released. She grabs it and I push her tighter into the corner. She looks like she's hiding in my shadow standing over her.

"Suck," I say, although it comes out sounding like I'm begging. I can't find any other words. It's all I want her to do right now. I've never wanted anything more than for her to suck my dick right at this second. I know what her blowjob feels like. I can practically feel her mouth on me from memory.

She doesn't take me in her mouth though. She holds my cock up against my stomach and kisses the skin there.

"Come on," I exhale impatiently. I really do feel like I'm begging again. Like we're on a timer and the bell is about to ding. Jenny is silent. She will not talk back to me. Won't acknowledge my requests or my excitement.

Even though I am standing over her, it's clear I am the one who is at her mercy. Her eyes are warning me to keep my hands to myself and let her do what she wants, as fast or as slow as she wants to do it.

This feeling almost resembles stress. The passage of time, and running out of it. The anxiety to want to release before we are inevitably no longer alone. There's also the chance of being discovered by Michael. This is not the time for her slow teasing shenanigans.

My sense of hearing feels heightened listening to Michaels' shower water upstairs. We are being so stupid right now. Risking everything for this small moment because of a strong urge that apparently both of us are really feeling right now.

That's why I can't talk myself into stopping my next move. I corner Jenny's small figure even more somehow, reaching down to grab my dick.

Her eyes give me warning again but I ignore her. I stroke myself slowly in front of her. Precum oozes from the tip of my cock and I watch Jenny's reaction change from one of warning to pure and complete desire. I don't have time to react to her moving forward and catching my precum on her flattened tongue. She looks into my eyes for a few seconds and then the connection is severed as she closes her eyes, trailing her tongue along my cock, closer to my body.

I sigh, groaning louder than I even mean to. And then she's all on me. Her mouth is underneath, her lips and tongue on my balls. The blowjob flood gates have opened and she isn't holding back anymore.

Her breath is hot against me and I close my eyes, trying to remember to listen to the shower water, but now my senses are wanting to focus on one thing, and it is not my best friend showering upstairs.

Stroking myself, I look back down. Her eyes are trained to my face again. Her entire mouth is filled with whatever she can fit of my balls.

"Oh my god," I whisper, praising her. I grind my hips forward so I am directly over top of her.

Her hands squeeze my thighs again and she switches with a loud, wet pop. One of my balls is out of her mouth only to have her engulf the other completely. She does it so effortlessly, treating it like a skill she's mastered. And she probably has.

More precum has come out at the tip of my dick. She doesn't notice until I angle my cock downward some. Her eyes catch on the shiny drop of liquid and she releases my balls from her mouth again with as just a loud pop, then raises up to take the head of my cock into her mouth.

"Ah, yes." I agree with her quick decision again.

She only keeps just the tip of me inside her mouth, but her tongue is slowly gliding underneath in just the right way. It's enough.

I have many memories engraved in my mind. A few sexual encounters to keep me entertained when I need them most; most of them containing Jenny now. But none of them, not one, will be as easy to recall as the one of me looking down at her with her lips wrapped tightly around the tip of my cock. She is truly enjoying this. I can see it across her face. Her eyes are pure lust staring up at me. She is almost sucking my cock as if it were a thumb. Her head is barely moving. She's letting her mouth do all the work.

My hands tighten on the countertop ledge in front of me. I want nothing more than to sink all the way down her throat. I know she can do it. That's what's killing me.

My heart drops when I hear the shower turning off up stairs.

I groan in disappointment. I surprisingly feel angry. I'm upset that Michael is here. It's crazy. This is his home. His mom, for Pete sake! Why am I so angry when I was just feeling guilty about all of this a couple hours earlier?

I want his mom to finish the blowjob. That's why I'm angry. I'm horny. I want to come. I need to get off.

Jenny's eyes are different now. She looks on edge and nervous. I know this is about to end. I want to take advantage of the situation while I can though. I stand up straight so I'm no longer slouching, making sure the tip of my cock stays just inside her mouth. She's watching me closely. I know she's curious. I grip my cock right outside of her lips and push forward. Her hands squeeze my thighs again and she tries to speak, but she can't.

I slide further inside her mouth, satisfied that her tongue is flat, gliding all the way underneath down my shaft as I slide in, pull out slightly, then slide back in further.

"Hm," a small objecting noise escapes from her, but she's not feeling committed enough to putting me back in my place.

The muscles of her throat constrict around me while I grind against her face. Her fingers tighten on my thighs again and she coughs. Her eyes begin to water and close, tears slide down her cheeks.

Hand placed on her forehead, I pull my cock out a few inches only to push all the way back inside. I grind my hips downward to angle my cock perfectly into her throat. How does this feel so good?

She coughs again and her hands slide down to the calves of my legs to hold onto. She taps the back of one of my legs. She wants to beg me to stop, I know she's worried about Michael discovering us, but I've been listening. The buzz of the bathroom fan is still on up there.

I don't reassure Jenny of this though. I feel her trying to swallow while I'm inside her throat and I continue grinding in and out of her mouth. My hands are firmly on top of her head. I've never had this kind of control with her before. With anyone, for that matter.

I have no business doing what I'm doing right now. But for some reason, this woman is letting me do it. And I'm allowing myself to betray my best friend.

She squeezes my leg a little harder than she has been, and by instinct, I pull my cock out of her mouth. She gasps and heavy breathing follows as she looks up at me. A string of saliva trails from her lips to the tip of my swollen cock. I rub the head flat across her open mouth and she opens wider. Her tongue lays out flat. I immediately slap my cock hard against her tongue only a few times before sliding just the tip back inside. Her lips seal around me and she sucks as I stroke myself.

"Suck a little harder?" I ask. Why am I asking? I watch her eyes switch to amused and I shake my head.

"Don't," I warn her with a smile. She struggles to suck on me now because she's trying to smile with her mouth full. I pull out of her mouth again and jerk off myself in front of her. Her smile is wide with spit dripping down her chin.

I catch the spit there and wipe it away on the leg of my jeans. I rest my thumb under her chin and she replaces my hand on my cock with hers.

"I'm close," I tell her just under my breath, watching her stroke me.

She nods, "I know, honey." Her make up has smeared some just underneath both of her eyes.

Her lips are so plump and wet. Watching them form to the word 'honey' does something for me. She's never called me that before. I rub my thumb across her bottom lip as she continues to jerk me off.

She opens her mouth and I immediately let my thumb slide inside. She closes her lips around the

appendage, down the the knuckle and sucks lightly.

"Hm?" The noise she makes sounds like she asking me a question.

I rest my fingers underneath her chin while my thumb is still inside her mouth, and her hand is still going strong, stroking my cock in just the right way.

The pressure increases on my thumb and she sounds like she asking me another question when she moans short, "Hm?"

She's asking me how hard I want her to suck. "More," I tell her. She sucks on my thumb harder.

"Little more." I nod.

Again, she adjusts.

"More?" I ask her. The suction increases even more, and that's enough. "Just like that."

I slide my thumb out of her mouth and move my hips forward, replacing it with my cock. She sucks it inside with the same pressure and I rock my hips against her. I'm amazed by her. She asks me how I want something and then she does it. I didn't even know I was allowed to ask.

The buzz of the fan upstairs stops and I hear the bathroom door squeak open above us. I stop rocking against Jenny's face and look back to the kitchen archway. Somehow thinking my sense of hearing will be better that way.

Only, Jenny doesn't stop, she continues sucking my cock. Not only does she continue, she moves more urgently against me. I don't know if she even heard the bathroom door open upstairs.

"I'm so close." I whisper, looking back down at her.

She keeps the same pressure. She's trying so hard. But I know I won't get off before Michael inevitably comes down the stairs and heads straight for the kitchen once he sees that no one is in the living room.

"We have to stop," I tell her, regretfully, a little panicked that we may get caught this time. Michael would literally kill me if he caught me cornering his mom down on the floor with my cock down her throat. I would be dead.

She seems to understand that we will run out of time and it's not going to happen. Her mind is reeling fast. I can see it in her eyes as she lets me to step back and my dick pops out of her mouth.

She strokes me one more time and I step back from her again. I put my dick away, still hard, and zip up my pants while watching her stand up. We both hear Michael cough upstairs. I don't know if Jenny is aware, but I know from hearing that cough that Michael just took a hit from a joint he always has ready and says he hides in a shoe box stored somewhere in his closet. I'm sure he's standing by his cracked open window letting the smoke drift out.