Surrogate Husband

Bobby Chandler chuckled to himself as he drove down the street. He didn't mind it much that his mother and his grandmother were conspiring against him. If things went right, he would have one more woman to help keep him satisfied. He thought it to be a bit ridiculous, though. Hence, his "conditions." He never once thought they would be so willingly agreed to. "Kinda like leading sheep to the slaughter," he said aloud.

Barely six blocks away from his house and he entered a newly formed subdivision. Very few houses existed in the place where the campus of his old high school had once stood. It had been razed within weeks of the new high school being built on the outskirts of town. Most of the foundations had been laid, on top of which houses, in varying stages of completion, stood like skeletons, waiting to be finished. It was there that he saw Mrs. Brubaker's minivan sitting next to the curb with the hood up. Mrs. Brubaker stood next to the driver's side door, waving frantically.

"My lucky day," Bobby thought as he stopped next to the van and rolled the window down.

"Thank God you came along," she said breathlessly.

"What's wrong, Mrs. Brubaker?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know," she said as she leaned part way through the open space in the passenger side door. "It started making this clunking sound and then it just quit running. Now, I can't get it started."

"Sorta 'gave up the ghost', eh?" he said, laughing inwardly at his own joke.

Mrs. Brubaker saw no humor in her situation, but didn't tell him so. She just smiled disdainfully and said, "What am I going to do? I need to get groceries and get home as quickly as I can."

"You also need a tow truck," Bobby told her. "Tell you what. You climb on in and I'll take you shopping. You can use your cell phone to call get a bl-tow job."

"I can't," she told him.

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked. "You can't ride with me or you can't make the call?"

"Oh, no," Mrs. Brubaker told him as she opened the door and climbed in. "I can't make the phone call because I left my cell phone at home. May I use yours?"

"Left mine at home, also," he said. "We'll call one when we get to the store." For the first time since he'd known the Brubaker family, he saw Becky's mother in a different light.

Of average height and a little more than average weight, Mrs. Brubaker was a bit nondescript. Yet, her naturally curly blonde hair would have made her stand out in a crowd. It hung to just below her shoulders.

"I love the way the sun reflects off your hair," Bobby commented. "You must have just shampooed it."

"Really?" she questioned as she twisted her neck slightly, causing her hair to undulate along her shoulders and back.

"That's more than my Herman would say," she said, her voice brimming with cynicism. "Ever."

Bobby saw his opening and he took it. "Your husband has to be an idiot not to notice true beauty like yours."

"You're so sweet," she told him. For a second or two, Bobby thought, Mrs. Brubaker's visage had changed to that of a real human being, almost belying the fact that she was the hoity-toity, nose-up-in-the-air bitch that most everyone he knew thought her to be.

"You sure didn't feel that way when you caught me walking Becky home from school that day," he said to himself. He bit his lip to keep from putting a voice to his thoughts. Instead, he just laughed lightly and told her. "I've always thought you were one of the sexiest women on the block."

Mrs. Brubaker caught her breath and stiffened temporarily. "How dare him use such a word to describe me," she thought. She opened her mouth to severely chastise him, but, for some reason she couldn't. In spite of what she thought about Bobby Chandler, she found herself warming up to the idea that he wasn't such a bad kid after all. Instead, she ran the fingers of her left hand through her hair, smiled again and said in a soft voice, "Thank you for your opinion. But, flattery will get you nowhere with me."

Bobby pulled into a parking space in front of the grocery store, shut the engine off, turned in his seat and looked her in the eye. "Sure, Mrs. Brubaker, it is a bit of flattery that I'm using on you today but, I promise you that every word of what I said is the truth. If I were your husband, you'd be getting compliments like that every day of the week. You have no idea. . ."

Mrs. Brubaker reached for the door handle. "You're going to make an old lady blush," she said as she quickly exited the vehicle and ran toward the store.

About an hour later, Bobby spied Mrs. Brubaker exiting the store with a shopping cart full of groceries. He opened the car's trunk and began to transfer the groceries. When he finished doing that he moved quickly to the passenger side door, opened it and waited for her to get in.

Mrs. Brubaker tried to pull the seatbelt around her, but it was stuck. She looked at Bobby with demanding eyes. "Fix it, please," she said coldly and matter-of-factly.

"Yes ma'am," Bobby replied. "It gets stuck like that once in a while." He tugged on the belt several times before it became unstuck. Instead of giving her control of the seatbelt, he decided to fasten it himself.

As he reached around her, his forearm brushed against her breasts. She glared at him for a moment and then looked away. He closed the door quickly, hoping she wouldn't notice how excited he'd become because of that one unintentional touch.

Bobby needn't have worried so much. As he was rounding the car, getting in and fastening his own seatbelt, Mrs. Brubaker was asking herself why such a simple touch of her breasts from someone she despised so would cause her nipples to harden like they had.

She would have understood and would have welcomed the touch if it had been her husband doing the touching. She laughed to herself. "Fat chance of that happening. He hasn't touched me sexually in well over a year."

A tiny tear formed in her left eye. "He's sure enough touching that harlot, Marla Jackson, every chance he gets." The tears became bigger and soon they were in both eyes, clouding her vision.

Bobby glanced in her direction in time to see a tear fall from her chin onto her blouse. "You okay, Mrs. Brubaker? He asked.

She stared straight ahead, her expression almost void of emotion. "Sure," she said with a touch of sadness. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Bobby said nothing else to his neighbor the rest of the way to her house. "Aw, hell!" he exclaimed as he pulled into her driveway.

Lost in a sea of self-misery, Mrs. Brubaker was startled by bobby's sudden outburst. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"We forgot to call a tow truck."

"I did that while I was in the store," Mrs. Brubaker said rather condescendingly. "If you had paid attention, you would have noticed that my van was not where I left it."

Bobby breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good," he said. Once in the driveway, he turned the engine off, got out and scurried around to open the door for Mrs. Brubaker. He helped her out of the car and then opened the trunk. Thankful that the store still used plastic bags, Bobby managed to carry all her groceries in the house in one trip.

"Just put them anywhere in the kitchen," she told him. I'll get to them later."

Bobby placed the bags on the kitchen table. "Are you sure?" he asked. "There's some things here that might spoil if we don't refrigerate them."

Mrs. Brubaker came into the kitchen. "We wouldn't want that. My Herman might pitch a fit if he didn't get his meatloaf at least once a week." A quick shaking of her head sent a ripple through her curly blonde hair

"He doesn't beat you, does he?" Bobby asked her.

Mrs. Brubaker's eyes were filled with anger when she answered him. "No, no, no!" she said. "He knows better than that. I'd divorce him so fast his head would be spinning for at least a month."

"So, what do you like to do besides go to church?" Bobby asked her.

Mrs. Brubaker paused as she opened the freezer door of the refrigerator to deposit the last package of hamburger meat. "Church is about all I have," she said with a touch of sadness in her voice. "My Herman has never been one to do much outside the home except run around with his whores."

She deposited the meat, closed the freezer door and turned to face Bobby, her lower lip quivering mightily. "I shouldn't have said that," she said. "That was very unlady-like and not very Christian of me to say such things in front of you."

Bobby stepped forward and embraced Mrs. Brubaker. "Sometimes, you just gotta let yourself go," he told her. Then he did something that surprised even himself. He kissed her full on the lips. He was even further surprised when she began to kiss him back.

Bobby pushed his tongue against her lips. She kept her lips closed tightly but, didn't break away for several seconds. Then, as if she'd morphed back into her real self, Mrs. Brubaker pushed him away. She slapped him hard across his left cheek.

"You filthy boy," she yelled. "How dare you take such liberties with me. I'm a married woman!"

Bobby's face stung from her assault, so much so that a tear slowly seeped from his left eye. He put his hand to his face and winced. "That hurt!" he exclaimed.

Still huffing from her sudden outburst of energy, Mrs. Brubaker's eyes fairly burned with anger. "As well it should," she told him. "I should have slapped you harder."

Mrs. Brubaker pointed toward the living room door. "Get out!" she cried. "Now!"

His hand still on his face, Bobby Chandler looked at her with pleading eyes. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Brubaker. I don't know what came over me."

"I know what came over you," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I'm going," Bobby told her. "But, first, I gotta tell you something." Bobby took a deep breath. "You deserve better than your 'Herman'."

Mrs. Brubaker was amazed at this impetuous young man's brash talk. "Never in my life," she told him, "has anyone ever talked to me in that fashion." Again, she told him to get out of her house.

"I'm going," Bobby replied. "But, everything I've said to you has been the truth."

Outwardly, as she followed him to the door, Mrs. Brubaker did her best to look and act like she'd been grossly insulted while, inwardly, she kept telling herself that young Bobby Chandler was right. She did deserve better than that philandering husband could ever provide her.

Bobby opened the front door and turned back towards her. "I am truly sorry, Mrs. Brubaker." She opened her mouth to, once again, scold him but she went mute when he told her, "If you need a ride anywhere, Mrs. Brubaker, you call me. Okay."

Mrs. Brubaker said nothing. She just closed the door behind him, leaned against it for support and wept silently. "My life's in a mess," she said aloud. "I know that. But, I've tried so hard to not let it show."

She wasn't really that angry with Bobby Chandler. She was, indeed, flattered that he would be so kind to her and say the things he said that day. She didn't want to admit it, especially not to herself, but that brash young man had put a chink in that icy armor of hers. Like Humpty Dumpty, she was on the verge of having a great fall.

Deep inside her, she knew that meeting Bobby today had long ago been preordained by a thing called fate. She found herself warming up to the ideas Bobby had planted in her mind. Maybe she was more beautiful than she believed. That damned Herman Brubaker had not complimented her on her looks, her dress; hell, not even on her cooking abilities in more years than she could remember.

"He is rather cute," she whispered just before she chastised herself for saying so. Yet, the mere thought of that Chandler boy kissing her so brazenly caused a stirring inside of her that she could not deny.

Bobby, now at home, entered the kitchen from the garage and made his way into the living room and sat down on the sofa. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. After flipping through several channels and finding nothing that interested him, he turned the TV off. His mind began to replay the events of the day.

He was sure he'd made some progress with his initial attempt to seduce Mrs. Brubaker. He just didn't know how far he had gotten with her. His cock hardened as he recalled the kiss. For a moment, she'd accepted his advances. Then, without warning, she'd returned to her old self, ordering him out of the house. He was about to get up and go to his room when his mother entered the room and sat down beside him.

"So, where did you go?" Louise asked her son after they'd enjoyed a deep, lingering, tongue-swapping kiss.

"Just out," he told her.

Mrs. Chandler rubbed Bobby's thigh. "Just out?" she asked. "Did you go to the mall or something? Did you go and get something to eat?" His mother was nothing, if not persistent, in her questioning.

"Took Mrs. Brubaker grocery shopping," he said.

Louise raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I found her over by the new subdivision standing by her van with the hood raised. So, I gave her a ride to the store and back home."

Louise Chandler ran her fingers through her son's hair. "Did ya get any?" she asked with a devilish smile.

Bobby decided not to tell his mother what had transpired between him and Mrs. Brubaker. For some unexplained reason, he felt empathy for his neighbor. But, he wasn't going to let that stop him from doing his level best to get in her pants. Despite the snobby outward persona she so often displayed, he found her to be a very attractive and desirable woman. "Herman Brubaker is a fool," he said to himself.

"Mom!" he exclaimed. "All I did was help her with her groceries."

Louise Chandler moved her hand until it was covering his cock. She squeezed it lightly through the soft fabric of his pants. "You wouldn't be telling another fib, would you?"

Bobby let out an exasperated sigh as his pecker made his pants bulge against her hand. "No, I'm not," he said before adding, "You might want to wait a couple of days to seduce old, fat Herman."

"Why?" she asked.

"'Cause," he began. "If she don't get her van back, she just might not be going anywhere tonight."

"We'll see," Mrs. Chandler told her son. "We'll see."

Just then, the phone rang. Reluctantly, Louise removed her hand from Bobby's cock so she could answer it.

"Hello," she said into the mouthpiece. She was silent for a few seconds.

"Oh, hi, Donna." She paused and then spoke again. "Sure," she said. "I'd be glad to. Give me some time to freshen up. I'll meet you in a few."

"Gonna do some more carpet munching?" Bobby asked.

"Maybe," she said rather coquettishly.

"Maybe, hell," Bobby snorted. "You live and breathe for just such an invitation."

Mrs. Chandler smiled and squeezed his cock one more time. "I've got to take a shower," she said as she stood up.

Bobby stood also, grabbed his mother by the hips and asked, "Need anybody to wash your back?"

Bobby's mother chuckled. "There's only one problem with that suggestion," she replied.

"What's that?"

"Donna's waiting for me, Bobby. I'm sure she wants me to get there as soon as possible."

"As soon as possible after I scrub your back," Bobby suggested as he groped her left tit.

"Bobby!" Louise Chandler said insistently. "Her air conditioner broke down. She's sweating her ass off. I told her I'd come and get her so she could check into a motel."

Bobby let his hands drop to his sides. "She's got little enough as as it is," he quipped. "Better hurry. If she sweats too much, she won't have anything back there to cover her hip bones.

Bobby's mother laughed. "I'm gonna tell her you said that," she said as she hurried to the bathroom.

Bobby went into the kitchen and grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the refrigerator. He sat down at the table, opened it and took a long gulp. He remained there, sipping on his soda, thinking of Mrs. Brubaker. Several minutes later, his mother appeared by his side, leaned down and gently chewed on his earlobe. Bobby jumped like he'd been shot.

"Jeez, Mom. Why don't you warn me before you do something like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Mrs. Chandler licked the inside of his ear, causing a shudder to surge throughout his body. "I'm going now, Bobby," she told him. "And, whatever you do, don't bother Grandma Lilly."

"Why? What's wrong with her?"

"She's having a migraine attack. I gave her a pain pill and it put her out. Probably for the night."

"I see," Bonny said. Grandma Lilly's under the weather. You're off to play 'find the man in the boat' and I'm here all by myself. Guess I'll just have to name my fist 'Mommy' or 'Granny' in order to get any sex tonight."

Bobby's mother laughed. She swabbed out his ear once more with her tongue and backed away. "You're funny," she said as she turned to go to her car.

"When you gonna bring her over so I can have a go at her?" Bobby called out after his mother. She didn't answer. She just closed the door behind her and left.

After Bobby left April Brubaker continued to cry as she leaned against the door. "What's wrong with me?" she asked herself.

"You're hungry," the voice inside her head told her. "Hungry for attention. Hungry for a man's touch."

Momentarily startled, April Brubaker looked about the room as if she were searching for the person behind the voice. That Chandler boy had her mind in a tizzy. The stirring in her loins wouldn't go away. She knew what she needed but, Herman wasn't home to give it to her. Then, she reminded herself how long it had been since they'd last made love.

"Love?" she said aloud. She couldn't remember the last time he'd made her cum. "It was always him that got his jollies and left me hanging."

Such were her religious values that she seldom took matters into her own hands, no matter how high the desire to do so rose within her tortured soul. April Brubaker would go for days, fighting those urges, feeling like the vilest sinner in the world for even having such thoughts. Today wasn't much different, except that she felt more sinful because she knew what had caused those forbidden thoughts to, once more, rise to the surface. It was that damned Chandler boy.

Mrs. Brubaker's need for release was already such that she barely noticed that she had cursed. "Maybe a cold shower will help," she told herself. If by some miracle, her minivan were to be fixed in time, she would still be able to go to her regular Thursday night meeting with her church group. Herman would be of no help, neither, she reasoned. "He's never let me drive his precious pickup, no matter what my situation," she thought to herself.

Her soul heavy with her sinful urges, April Brubaker willed herself to move. Step by agonizing step, she made her way to the shower. Once inside the bathroom, she began to disrobe. She removed her dress and folded it twice and laid it carefully atop the closed toilet lid.

Her hands accidently grazed her bra-covered nipples as she reached for the front clasp, sending lightning bolts of desire from her breasts all the way down to her panty-covered clit.

Her breasts sprang free when she removed her bra and placed it on top of her dress. April turned toward the mirror to admire herself. She may not be the best looking woman on the block but, at least, her breasts weren't sagging like those of most of her neighbors.

She then bent and slid her panties off her and tossed them in the hamper. Surprised to see the gusset so flooded with her secretions, she forgot to take off her nylons before she stepped into the shower and turned the water on. She'd already reached for the soap and her bath sponge when she notice them clinging wetly to her legs. Somehow, it just added to the building excitement that she felt so powerless to stop.

April's first swipe of the sponge across her already tortured breasts nearly took her breath away. Her nipples, already greatly aroused, extended even further, becoming harder than they'd ever been before.