The Milf Next Door

Samantha Dalton ran her fingers lightly over her hairless mons. Satisfied with the smoothness she dropped her razor onto the shower shelf and turned off the water. Catching a glance in the mirror she posed, eyeing herself critically. Nearly forty, with two daughters, she could still call herself an attractive woman. Samantha was tall, nearly nine inches over the five foot mark, and a good diet and regular exercise kept her toned. While her breasts were small, sadly even two pregnancies had not changed that fact for her, she compensated with targeted butt exercises to keep her ass full and well shaped. She towelled herself dry, or near enough, and ran a brush through her shoulder length blonde hair.

It had been almost two years since a car accident robbed her of her husband, her daughters' father. Despite interest from men of her acquaintance Samantha had remained faithful to his memory, at least until the grief had become bearable. She and her daughters had shared many tears, but they had reached the point where they were ready to live their lives without David.

A knock on the door to her bedroom had her wrap a robe around herself before the expected, "come in". Alice, her elder daughter, poked her blonde head around the door.

"We're ready to go Mom." A school camping trip would take the two girls away for a full week. "Mister Brisco is here with Frank to pick us up." Mister Brisco's proper name was Jeremy Black, but the girls had dubbed him Mister Brisco after his resemblance to Bruce Campbell's titular character in the series The Adventures of Brisco County Jr. His son, Frank, was a well mannered young man, at least in Samantha's opinion, and both the girls were fond of him. More likely than not to be found with his nose in a book, he was a walking encyclopaedia of facts that he would expound at the slightest provocation, to the point where the girls had developed an "enough already" signal to tell him when to stop talking.

"Okay dear, I'll be right out." Tying the robe securely, slipping her feet into comfortable slippers, Samantha left her bedroom and followed Alice to the front door. Two backpacks, a tent, and sleeping bags, were waiting for them. Mary, the younger daughter, was attempting to persuade Frank to carry her bag for her, but her efforts were not particularly successful. The young man, still in the gangly stage, had a wry wit and his dark head shook as he refused her wiles. The two girls took after their mother in looks, both blonde, tending towards height, and neither particularly busty, but there were times when would one would move or turn their head in such a way as to bring David to mind and pluck Samantha's heartstrings.

"...are you going to expect someone to carry your pack on a long hike?" He asked. "I mean, if it's too heavy we can just leave it behind."

"You're mean." Mary pointed her finger at him. "Meanie." Frank looked unabashed.

"Yes, yes I am." Frank's father stepped inside, dark haired and quite handsome, his wife Deborah was unstinting in her praise of him as a husband and father. Samantha could admit to having a small crush on him herself while acknowledging that other than flirtation it would never go anywhere.

"Sam, you dressed up for me?" His grin was infectious and Samantha smiled too.

"What, this old thing? It was just something I had lying around." She turned her eyes to her girls. "Come on girls, get your stuff out to the car." Mary was a little sulky, but she cheered up when Frank took the tent. Seeing it as a small victory she followed him to the car, more accurately a truck, a Ford F150. Frank lifted the tent easily into the tray and tossed up the bags the two girls handed to him, pulling down the cover to keep everything safe.

Jeremy shook his head, still grinning. "Kids." He raised an eyebrow. "Any plans while we're away?"

"Nothing yet." Actually Samantha did have plans, but they weren't the kind that one shared with an acquaintance, even one she did regard as a friend. The man nodded.

"Deborah said that if you were feeling lonely you could go and visit her. She has the twins of course, but I'm sure she could use some adult company." Samantha gave a non-committal response. She did like Jeremy's bubbly brunette wife, but the twins, a boy and a girl, were still young enough to be a handful.

"If I'm not doing anything else."

"Alrighty then." With a wave Jeremy climbed into the driver's seat and they were off. Samantha matched the girls wave for wave as they backed out of the driveway, then turned back inside as they drove away.

With the girls gone Samantha dropped her robe over the nearest chair. Given a clear area of floor she threw herself into a cartwheel, just for the exhilaration of motion. She landed back on her feet giggling, wondering how her daughters would have reacted to seeing their mother performing cartwheels in the nude. Probably with the excessive seriousness of the young, she decided after a moment's contemplation.

She poured herself a glass of wine, and wandered about the house as she sipped. It was not a huge house, but with two bedrooms for the girls and a master bedroom with ensuite for herself it was all they needed. The garage held her pride and joy, a 1976 Pontiac Trans Am 455 HO, bright red, and with its emissions choked engine freed from restrictions. It had been David's project, and they had their first drive in it three weeks before the accident. She leaned against the interior garage door, smiling over her glass at the memories.

A second glass was poured and Samantha returned to her contemplations. Jeremy had asked her about her plans, but she couldn't tell him of the seduction that she had in mind. Her wandering took her to the doors that led out to the wooden porch that surrounded her pool. Framed by tall hedges she could both sunbath and swim naked without concern of prying eyes, although she always wore a demure one piece when her daughters were home.

Making a decision she picked up her phone and dialled. Almost immediately, from beyond her eastern fence line she could hear the trill of a telephone ringing. The ring cut off and a woman's voice answered.

"Good afternoon. Prester's residence. Bernice speaking." Samantha could picture the auburn haired teen, so like her mother in looks, although toned by her father's darker palette.

"Hi Bernie, Samantha here." Samantha tried to remain casual. "Is your brother around?"

"Stephen? Don't you have his cell?" The girl laughed, "sorry, silly question. If you had it you wouldn't be calling this line."

With uncommon gravity Samantha responded with, "there are no silly questions, only silly people." Bernice laughed.

"Hey..." Samantha heard her as she turned from the phone and yelled. "Stephen, Mrs Dee on the phone for you." There was a rumble of motion, and the young man's baritone resonated in her ear.

"Hey Mrs Dee." While the Presters had never quite given in to her demands to call her Samantha, they had abbreviated her full title down out of affection. She had known the Presters for years, and they treated her like a favourite aunt. Part of her wavered in her intentions, she didn't want to spoil the relationship they had already, but the less principled part of herself won out.

"Hi Stevie." She kept her voice even. "I have some heavy lifting that needs doing and I was wondering if you could come over and help me with it."

"Sure, no problem." Stephen seemed enthusiastic. "Right now?"

"In about ten minutes. Okay?" She sensed the nod of his head.

"No problem Mrs Dee. See you then."

*****

Samantha hurried to her room. Making plans before being dressed for them was not her most sensible decision. She had already picked out what she planned to wear, refraining from her natural impulse to be subtle. David's words rang in her ears even now. "When you want a man, don't be subtle. Go straight up to him and tell him you want his cock in your mouth. When you're dancing grind up against him like the only thing keeping you from fucking him on the dance floor is the fact you're wearing clothes. Don't wear too many of those either." Sixteen happy years of marriage had followed from that advice until...

Samantha brushed away the cobwebs of memory and picked up what she planned to wear. Tiny white thong knickers made by Wicked Weasel, in the pattern they called 657 daisy. So small that when she pulled them on they barely covered the cleft of her sex, and so shear that they concealed nothing at all. A white Wicked Weasel singlet matched the thong and left her midriff bare. She slipped her feet into two inch heels and strapped them on. "Damn," she whispered at the sight of herself in the mirror. "If he doesn't go for this then I might as well become a nun." To complete the ensemble Samantha added a short red 557 dress from the same range. Cut just low enough to cover her buttocks standing, it concealed nothing when she bent over. That effect she tested in her mirror, to her complete satisfaction.

She pulled her hair into a ponytail, applied a minimum of makeup, and was on her way to the door when it rang. She swung the door open and was greeted by Stephen's shocked expression, his eyes nearly bugging out as they took in the package she had created. Taller than her, even in heels, he was fast maturing into a man. He shared his father's tanned complexion, his unruly dark hair, with just a hint of ginger, in need of a trim, and was wearing khaki beach shorts and a grey tee shirt.

"Stevie, come in." Not waiting for his response she pulled him in and slipped her arms around him in a hug, grinding against him just enough to determine that her appearance had made exactly the right impression. She could feels his arms tighten around her, then loosen, then tighten again as confusion reigned.

"Mrs Dee... were you expecting company?" He managed to choke out at last.

"Of course Stevie," she purred. "You." She pursed her reddened lips. "And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Samantha?"

"I... ahh... I..." He actually drew back towards the door as she advanced, a cougar stalking its prey. His innocence and confusion was even more arousing to her in reality than it had been in her many fantasies.

"Stevie," her voice dropped into a wheedling tone. "Please say that all this..." her hands moved up and down indicating what she was wearing, "...wasn't for nothing." He stopped retreating and reached up to brush his hand through his hair.

"You mean you... you want me... to..." Samantha placed a hand on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat, and leaned up to kiss him lightly on the lips.

"I want you Stevie boy," she murmured. "I know you haven't had a serious girlfriend yet, and I want to be your first."

"But... but..."

"You're not saying I'm too old for you, are you?" She was teasing, her exploration of his body had told her that she was definitely not too old for him.

"No... no of course not... it's just." He shuddered, then stepped closer, his big hands closing on her shoulders. "I've just never..."

"Like I said Stevie, I want to be your first." She took the opportunity presented to move closer to him, her arms around him, her lips perfectly positioned to...

His head lowered, and his lips met hers. He was awkward, but she had expected that. What she hadn't expected was how quickly he improved. He used her ponytail as a convenient handhold as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She pressed him back gently, extracting herself from the kiss.

"You're a quick study." He flushed slightly, and her hand rose to caress his cheek. The other, favouring the direct approach, slid down his belly to cup his cock and balls through his pants. Samantha smiled brightly. Deprived of the concealment his loose fitting shorts provided she could say that he was of more than satisfactory dimensions. She leaned forward again and pecked his lips.

"I want to suck your cock." His eyes open wide in surprise again. "Trust me, I'm not going to be subtle. I'll tell you what I want to do, and what I want you to do to me." He nodded slowly. "Any questions?" He shook his head. "Good boy."

She pointed to the couch. "Get your clothes off and sit down there." He hastened to obey, and Samantha smiled approvingly as his body was exposed. Strong, but wiry more than bulky, lean and with dark hair over most of his torso and arms. Kicking off his shoes, his pants and underwear dropped, idly she noted black briefs, not boxers, exposing him to her hungry eyes. Her first impressions had not deceived. He was most certainly satisfactory in that department, judging him both above average and uncut. He sat and Samantha stalked towards him, her fingers tugging the hem of her skirt, exposing the tiny panties that were already soaked by her free flowing juices.

"Ooh, you bad boy," she murmured, running her fingers over the slick fabric then bringing them to her lips. "Look what you've done to me. You've made me so horny I've ruined my panties." Stephen played along with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm sorry 'bout that ma'am. If you like I can take them home and wash them." Samantha giggled. She turned, spreading her feet and bending over so that everything was displayed for him. Everything from the swollen clit that pressed through the wet fabric, to the tight knot of her anus bisected by the white strap of her knickers. His gasp was ample reward.

"Do you see something you like?"

"Umm, yes ma'am. Yes I do." Samantha hooked her fingers under the material and pulled it aside, baring everything to his eyes. When she turned back to him there was an expression of barely controlled lust on his face, as if he was straining every muscle to keep from leaping on her and ravishing her. She sank to her knees in front of him, eyes fixed on the angry red shaft that thrust up from his loins. She wanted to tease him some more, but realized that he was probably seconds away from exploding. Given the level of stimulation he had experienced it was probably remarkable he had held on as long as he had.

Wordlessly she lowered her lips onto his cock, taking his swollen head into her mouth as her hand encircled the shaft. Bare seconds passed between the contact of her flesh on his, and the convulsion that told her he was cumming. His pulsing shaft ejected its load and she swallowed everything, squeezing the shaft in a familiar rhythm to milk out every drop.

She let his organ slip from her lips as it softened and shrank. Looking up into his face she was startled by the embarrassment he displayed.

"Sorry, that didn't last long." His words snapped her back from the blissful state that blowjobs took her to.

"It was your first time," she reassured him, gently stroking his soft shaft. "I'm sure you'll be ready to go again soon enough, and last longer." She ran a hand across his chest. "While we're waiting though I want you to return the favour."

"Yes ma'am. I mean, yes Samantha," he hesitated. "Is it okay if I call you Sammie." Samantha laughed merrily.

"Of course Stevie. But only when we're alone together, okay?"

"Okay, Sammie." The boy bounded to his feet, his hands sliding up under her singlet, lifting it up over her head. Caught up in his enthusiasm Samantha slid her skirt and panties off in one motion, stepping out of them as they hit the floor.

"Now Stevie," she drew his head down to kiss him again. "I'm going to lay down where you were and you're going to put your face between my legs. Don't start anything before I tell you to though. Just look for a moment."

She sat down, leaning back onto the cushioned armrest, one foot on the floor, the other stretched along the couch. Stephen knelt on the floor, leaning in so his face was inches from the dripping heat of her sex. She felt a cool wind, and realised that he was blowing over her pussy gently. "Careful Stevie honey," she cautioned. "Blowing from that distance is okay..." her hips moved involuntarily, "in fact it's really nice, but don't blow into the pussy. Air embolisms are very bad." He nodded, and she felt the pulses of air change direction to only brush over her clit. "Give me your hand."

Stephen gave her his hand and she folded the fingers until only his index was extended. She brought it down, guiding it around the folds of her sex. "I'm sure you've taken anatomy, but I don't think you've had a live model before so let me be your guide." She ran the finger around the fleshy folds, "these are the labia majora," and then over the wrinkled thinner lips, "and the labia minora." She slid the finger up to her clitoris, "this is where the magic happens," she shivered as she slid the digit over her sensitive bud, "although there's a whole internal structure that isn't visible and works over a wider area." She pressed him lightly against the smaller hole, "this is the urethra, nothing goes up here," and to the vaginal slit, "something most definitely goes up here." She hesitated, then guided the finger lower, to her anus. "Some girls like it up here, but I'm not one of them." That was not entirely true, it had been an infrequent pleasure with David, but that was one thing she did not want to share with her young lover.

"Understood." Stephen nodded. "Can I lick you now?"

"Patience grasshopper." Samantha stroked his hair. "Move down a bit and lick my leg just behind the knee." She raised her leg a little to make access easier. "Remember girls aren't like guys, we like stimulation everywhere, and keeping away from the main attraction builds anticipation." She hummed happily as Stephen's tongue found the soft flesh behind her knee. "Slowly, now nibble a little." Giving direction was almost as arousing as the sensation itself. "Now work your way from the knee up the inner thigh, just licking and nibbling." She sighed contentedly. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere." Her body was slipping into a happy haze as the boy followed her instructions.

Stephen's teeth nipped her soft inner thigh, the small pain heightening the pleasure of his touch. His hand slid up her body to caress her nipples. Small though her breasts were, she was blessed with very sensitive nipples and she moaned her appreciation as his fingers toyed with the firm buds. She could feel the heat of his breath as his wet tongue glided over the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She lost herself in the moment, eyes closed, quivering as her body responded so gladly to his fingers and mouth.

His lips rose higher, closer, until at last he could place a kiss on her clitoris. Her hips moved involuntarily, pushing up, offering herself to him. Almost instinctively her leg hooked over his shoulder, her fingers tangling in his soft dark hair as he began to lap her sensitive tip. Her breath slowed, her eyelids fluttering as she concentrated on the pleasure he was giving her. There would be time later to assess his technique, to guide his improvement, but for the moment he was good enough. She shuddered, grinding her drenched cunt against his face as she came. "Don't stop," she growled through gritted teeth as she continued to move against his trapped body. To his credit he kept trying to lick her as she worked herself to another peak. "Oh!" She slumped back, panting. Stephen lifted himself up, a concerned expression on his face. She giggled weakly at the sheen of her juices on his cheeks.

"I'm okay Stevie. Don't worry. It's just been a while for me." Certainly her vibrator had provided no few orgasms, but flesh and blood met an emotional as well as physical need.

He sat up, wordlessly drawing her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, fingers toying with the dark curls. Moments passed, and then she leant up to kiss him. "Let's take this to the bedroom." Stephen nodded mutely and followed her. Samantha was sure his eyes were glued to her firmly muscled buttocks, and she wasn't surprised when, upon entering her room, his hands grasped her hips and his restored erection was caught between her cheeks. She turned to place her hands against the wall, pushing back against him.