This is the fifth of 6 separate stories that was taken from a much larger piece. They take place on the same day, at the same time, during the same snow storm. Since each is a story all its own, it doesn't matter which one you read first. WK
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Matt Crowley yawned as he stretched. He already knew he didn't have school today, because he had woken up to use the bathroom and had seen the rapidly mounting snow outside. As he walked down the hallway, he could smell the morning's breakfast being made. When he entered the kitchen, however, he was surprised to see their next door neighbor Mrs. Conley in the kitchen, instead of his mother.
"Morning," he yawned again. The sound of his voice startled Mrs. Conley so much, that she literally threw the box of cereal she was holding and sent the small, round O's scattering in all directions.
"Morning yourself," she muttered as she squatted down to pick up the cereal. As she squatted, Matt got a good look between her legs. She was wearing sweat pants, but they did little to hide the bulge of her crotch.
"Sorry," he muttered as he too squatted down to help her pick up the cereal. "I didn't mean to scare you." He then pretended to look around the room. "Where's my mom and dad?" he asked, letting his eyes flick back to the bulge.
"Your mother went into labor at 1 this morning," Gloria Conley replied. "They asked me to come over and stay with you while they were gone."
"I'm eighteen," Matt grumbled. "I don't need a babysitter."
"Maybe not," Gloria replied, "but with this storm, there's no telling how long they'll be stuck at the hospital." It was then that she became aware that Matt was looking between her legs. For a moment, it started to turn her on, to think that someone as young as Matt would actually be interested in her body. Lord knows her husband David hadn't seemed that interested anymore.
Matt decided to tempt fate. The worst that could happen was she would tell his parents, and he would be in trouble. As he reached for cereal between her legs, he let the back of his hand gently brush against the protruding bulge.
As soon as she felt it, Gloria let out a small gasp. "It was an accident," she told herself, opting to not say anything about it. When it happened again, a feeling of excitement and anger ran through her at the same time. "Stop that," she warned, although not too convincingly.
"Stop what?" Matt asked, trying to sound innocent.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Mathew Crowley," she told him, already feeling her face turning bright red. "Leave the cereal that's under me alone, I'll get it myself."
Matt gave her his most disarming grin, the same grin that got him almost all the way with Wendy Hooper last summer. If it wasn't for her nosey little sister, he probably could have fucked her. "It's ok," he smiled. "It's my fault that this happened, so I should do most of the picking up." As he spoke, he did it again, this time more blatant.
"Mathew Crowley, I'm a married woman and much too old for you." She was angry with herself for not slapping him, or at least getting up and walking away and leaving him to pick up the mess he had caused himself. She was even angrier at herself for not wanting him to stop.
"Ah," he smiled. "I noticed you said married woman, and not happily married woman," he told her, this time boldly rubbing the tips of his fingers over the bulge. When he heard Gloria sigh, his smile widened.
"That's not the point," she retorted, although her response sounded weak. At that point, Matt leaned in and kissed her. It was soft, at first, and when she didn't pull away, he let his tongue slip past her lips.
"Stop it!" she hissed firmly, as if she were worried someone would hear her. Instead of stopping, he leaned in again. This time, his kiss was deeper and more meaningful, and when she moaned loudly, he almost yelled himself. "We mustn't!" she whimpered, although her body language told him differently. Her nipples were already rock hard, and her neglected pussy was already starting to tingle and dampen.
"Shhhh," Matt whispered as he tried to slip his hand under her T-shirt. As he tried, he once again startled Gloria, this time causing her to fall backwards on her ass, with her legs spread wide. Matt looked boldly between her legs and smiled wickedly. "I'm assuming that the little wet spot you have there wasn't there before I got up, correct?"
"Correct, you little bastard," she replied hotly, her voice bitter. She still had no idea if she was mad that this was happening, or mad that she was letting it continue.
She had been struggling with her husbands neglect for nearly six months. She had thought that they had a good marriage, however, that changed when she began to see the signs. Suddenly working late and not getting home until after supper, leaving to go "help out a buddy" on the weekends, the phone calls where the person on the other end hung up as soon as she answered the phone, and the telephone number in his wallet that, when she called, a woman answered.
The final clues were the credit card receipts for items that she knew weren't for him and she had never received, and the one charge for a motel room that she had never been to. Now she found herself wanting the brief little encounters they had shared. Even the ones that left her longing for more, the ones that had been nothing more than for his pleasure only and made her have to finger herself to orgasm.
She would have gladly taken those over the complete nothing she had now. She had been with Steve for 22 years, and it would do no good for either of them for her to stoop to his level. At least, that was what she convinced herself of until she saw the large hard on that pushed against the front of Matt's pajamas.
"It's getting bigger," Matt's said, his voice interrupting her thoughts.
"What is?" she snapped, still struggling with the situation.
"Your wet spot," he smiled.
She extended her hand to him with a loud sigh. Once she was back onto her knees, she continued to pick up the mess. "Now what are you doing?" she growled when she once again felt his hand brushing her ass.
"You have cereal stuck to your cute butt," he told her, his eyes smoldering as they stared directly into her own.
"I'm 42 years old, Matt," she huffed, suddenly aware of how sensitive her hard nipples had become as the scraped the thin fabric of the T-shirt. "I have cellulite and my butt sags, there's no way that it's even remotely cute."