Three Wives Ch 01

MRS. JOHANSSEN

I was nineteen and back home from college. Not that I'd graduated, mind you; I was back home after fucking up royally. The problem was that while I'd been a good student in high school, when I got to college I discovered girls. I mean, sure, I dated a couple of girls in high school and even had a girlfriend for a while, but when I got to college I discovered S-E-X, sex! We're talking Poontang with a capital P! I mean, it was sort of like getting out of high school had given these girls license to fuck like minks, and I was getting all the pussy I could while the getting was good.

Wall-to-wall partying with the college crowd sort of interfered with my studying, to say the least. My grades took a nosedive toward the end of my first year. I went back the next fall, promising my father to bring them up, but things just went to hell in a hand basket. I crashed and burned academically, and so here I was at home, moping around and feeling pretty worthless. My mother was upset and my father wanted to kill me when he thought about all the money he'd poured down the drain for my failed education.

On the third day back I went out to try to find a job. I wasn't too enthusiastic about the whole affair. I mean, who looks forward to working at some fast food joint or stocking shelves, but these were my options. I mean, my alternatives were hanging around the house all day and spending my nights beating off, alone. Maybe I would run into one of the girls from my old High School and we could get something going.

After spending the better half of a day kicking around downtown, looking at the help wanted ads in the paper and making a few phone calls, I came home, hoping to postpone my inevitable fate by at least another twenty-four hours.

"Is that you, Sean?" my mother called from the dining room as I came in and hung up my coat.

"Yeah, Ma." I tried not to sound to miserable and dejected, but it was pretty hard.

"Did you find a job, hon?"

I winced inwardly at this. "No, Ma."

"Why don't you come in here, Sean? There's somebody who wants to say hello." I was a bit mystified by this. I mean, I certainly didn't want to see anybody at this low point in my life and I couldn't imagine who would want to see me. All my friends were in college or in the military and here I was moping around, an absolute failure. I went into the dining room, wondering what my mom was talking about.

Seated at the table having a cup of tea with my mother was Mrs. Johanssen. Mrs. Johanssen was the Assistant Principal at my high school. Very popular with the students, she was a sort of den mother to the

nth

degree, always involved in all sorts of clubs and extra-curricular activities. I wasn't surprised to see her at our home, she and my mother were friends.

"Mrs. Johanssen says that if you haven't found a job yet, she's got plenty of work for you to do around her place," my mother began.

Mrs. Johanssen smiled that mysterious, charismatic smile of hers, a sort of a cross between Marlene Dietrich and the Mona Lisa. She was wearing a beige silk blouse with a couple of buttons left undone, displaying a healthy portion of her generous cleavage. The sun coming through the white drapes behind her brought out the auburn in her shoulder length hair. I didn't know her age but guessed she was in her late forties, maybe her early fifties even. I do know that she filled out that silk blouse as well as she filled out any of the dresses I'd seen her in at school. Mrs. Johanssen had a very good figure; wide in the hips and a nice set of tits, but everything in proportion. A very good looking older lady. I smiled at the prospect of working around her property.

"I'm interested in helping you pick up where you left off in college, Sean," she said. This burst my bubble a bit. I was a little ashamed to find out that Mrs. Johanssen knew about my piss-poor performance in college. "Why don't you come around my place tomorrow morning and I'll show you what needs doing? Then later perhaps we can talk about what happened. Or rather, what we can do now about getting you back on track."

My mom was all smiles about the whole concept. "Mrs. Johanssen came over especially to see you about this, Sean," she said. Given her reputation at school and in the community, this was quite an honor. "I think it'd be a good idea."

My eyes ran over Mrs. Johanssen's magnificent cleavage as I did a quick mental review of my options. Flipping burgers and serving fries, or doing chores for Mrs. Johanssen. "What time do you want me to show up, ma'am?" I asked.

That night in the sad, solitary darkness of my room the familiar visions came, beautiful blonde centerfold types in thigh-hi stockings; the usual fantasies that signaled the beginning of my nightly masturbation. My cock was hard; it was hard all the time, it seemed. I stroked to the mental images of beautiful naked young women, yet as I approached the point of no return I flashed on the memory of Mrs. Johanssen sitting in our living room that afternoon.

Try as I might to concentrate on my mental harem of willing young whores I could not shake the memory of Mrs. Johanssen, with the sunlight coming through the curtains from behind. Mrs. Johanssen, the beige silk blouse she wore, with perhaps one too many buttons undone. The view down the top of Mrs. Johanssen's beige silk blouse.

As I stroked to this memory of Mrs. Johanssen's bountiful breasts, my body shuddered and I began squirting hot goo all over my belly

Strange feelings of shame and confusion overcame me afterwards as I passed into a troubled sleep.

* * *

The sheer amount of work to be done at Mrs. Johanssen's place amazed me. Mrs. Johanssen's husband was an older guy, I guess he had a hard time trying to keep the place. The property showed the signs of several seasons of neglect. Their place was on a plot of land that must have been ten acres if it was an inch. Their white brick house was near the road, on a hill dotted with enormous walnut trees. Behind the house the land fell away for what seemed like a mile down to a creek bed. Along one side of the property was a huge thicket, an out of control hedgerow, I suppose, that served as a sort of a boundary from the folks next door. The thicket continued down along the creek bed, then it petered out where the land flattened out. White fences separated a few paddocks where the neighbors kept horses.

My first assignment was cutting back the brush in that thicket and hauling away all of the debris in Mr. Johanssen's old Ford pickup. It was a big job, but I was being paid by the hour and it was healthy outdoor work. Anything was better than showing my face at the local greasy spoon. By the time I was done for the day I was dirty and sweaty and ready to go home. Mrs. Johanssen met me at the door to her back patio. She was wearing slacks and a white shirt; it looked like a man's shirt with a button-down collar, with a blue scarf about her neck. I'd never seen her in pants before. Even though I tried not to stare too pensively I couldn't help but observe how tight that pair of slacks seemed across her ass.

"Thank you, Sean," she said, looking over the cleared land at the bottom of her property. "You did good. I'll see you again tomorrow morning then?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The next three days were more of the same. Mrs. Johanssen was working me like a dog, but I didn't care. The hard work in the out-of-doors seemed to be what I needed. My mind was off my troubles and I was getting paid the same thing I'd be making if I were working at some kind of hateful real job. School was out that week for mid-semester break, so Mrs. Johanssen was home every day. At noon she would come out on her back porch with sandwiches and a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade and we'd enjoy a chat over lunch.

Try as I might, at times I couldn't help but look upon at her, not as an authority figure from the days of my old high school, but as a beautiful woman with a magnificent body. I found myself regarding her in an almost sexual way. Mrs. Johanssen was an attractive woman, after all, and a time or two I'm sure she caught me dead to rights looking at the valley that formed where her tops of her two beautiful breasts met; it was like they were pressed together by the cups of her bra. Then I'd catch myself, thinking

Watch it, boy! This is getting weird! She's old enough to be your mother!

Despite the hard work, and as tired as I was at the end of my hard days, every night I still found enough energy to masturbate furiously. It troubled me at first that Mrs. Johanssen was invading my thoughts. But as she became a regular in my fantasy world I soon surrendered and allowed myself the mental image of my dick nestled between her wonderful mounds. When I came I imagined myself unloading bucket loads of sticky white goo all over Mrs. Johanssen's glorious tits.

It was on the third day, after a morning's work, that Mrs. Johanssen asked me to come inside. "Now it's time to go over your situation, and what we're going to do about it." I was filthy so I hesitated, explaining that I didn't want to track dirt over her carpets. Mrs. Johanssen inspected me for a minute, her lips tightening into a thoughtful frown, and then she said, "Well, you can use my bathroom, maybe shower up a bit, tidy yourself up as best as possible."

I took off my work boots at the door and knocked off as much turf and cut grass from my jeans as possible before I walked across her carpet, following her to the bathroom down the hall. The hall was darkened and I could see that it led to her bedroom. She opened a door to the left. "Here's the bathroom," she said with a practical smile, then she turned to open a small closet to take some towels from a shelf.

After I cleaned up I didn't have anything clean to change into. Mrs. Johanssen loaned me a clean white t-shirt, but I still wore my old blue jeans. When I got dressed she indicated that I sit at the table. She'd put together a quick meal and we ate. Afterward, the dishes cleared away, Mrs. Johanssen served coffee.

My heart skipped a beat when she put her hand over mine. I swallowed and waited for her to continue.

"Your education is important, Sean. Look around you." She indicated the huge property, and the large, white brick house. "We like living out here in the country, we like the privacy a big place affords; I wouldn't want to live in a smaller place, with neighbors close by. I like my swimming pool, nice cars.

"Your chance to get a head start in life, John, is an education. It takes a college degree to get a job that pays all the bills and keeps you in comfort and this kind of style." Mrs. Johanssen paused and looked around at the fine scenery the porch afforded. Her magnificent pair swelled as she breathed deep in satisfaction.

Then she turned her large, pale blue eyes onto me and continued. "You're at a crossroads in your life. An education is something nobody can ever take away from you, Sean. Take your choice. Menial work of the simplest kind for the rest of your life, or take the opportunity to make something of yourself."

There was a rustle as she pulled out some papers and put on a pair of half-rimmed reading glasses. "I've been over your college grades." I winced inwardly at the thought of my embarrassing efforts to date. "You were a good student in high school, one of the best as I recall." She smiled at me over her reading glasses as she said this. There was something incredibly sexy about her in those glasses. "You've obviously been goofing off." I winced again when she said this.

"For me, Sean, college was incredibly easy. I practically fell asleep from boredom. I'm going to show you how I did it."

"Your first year results are low, but at least you passed. And you were smart enough to pull out of college early this term, before you racked up any F's. You've got a year of college out of the way. Now it's up to us to see what we can salvage out of this, and see if we can move on."

* * *

Mrs. Johanssen got me started on some correspondence courses, and over the next couple of afternoons at her place showed me how to review the courses I'd nearly failed. She intended for me to go back to school, if my Dad would let me, and to challenge the classes I'd pulled out of. This way I could get back in the groove and not miss out on that term of college I'd thrown to the wind.

I'm not exactly sure how or why things really got started. I had no way of knowing how far things were going to go . . .

We were in her husband's old pickup truck; a sky blue 1969 Ford with a huge bench seat and the old "three on the tree" column shifting. We'd been out to the back end of her property, where the land sloped down to a creek bed. Mrs. Johanssen was showing me where she wanted the underbrush cleared. I worked up a preliminary sweat hacking with the hedge clippers she'd handed me back at the house, until it was obvious that clearing out this stuff was going to require some heavier equipment.

"Come on, Sean," she called from the open door of the truck, "We're going to have to get you a chainsaw or something."

I got back in the front of the truck. Instead of firing up the engine she handed me a cold Coke from a small cooler on the floor of the truck. It was hot and my heart was beating; as much from the smell of her perfume, I think, as from the effort in the creek bed. I was sweating but I didn't stink. The bright sunlight was filtered somewhat by the brush to the front of the truck.

Then Mrs. Johanssen said something that was totally out of the blue. "You know, my husband thinks we're having an affair."

"W-H-A-A-A-T-T-T-?-!-?" I sputtered, "Wh-a-a-a . . . . . . what did you tell him?"

What she said next was even more outrageous. "I simply told him that we were."

Neither of us said a word for a while. I looked out at the sunlight, coming through the brush. I thought of her husband, then I flashed on my nightly visions of Mrs. Johanssen's breasts; I was totally confused.

When I looked over at Mrs. Johanssen it was like she was reading my thoughts. She was leaning back, one arm draped over the steering wheel, the other toward me along the back of the seat. She was beautiful in her white shirt and silk scarf ensemble, and she was returning my look; there was no doubt. Her lips were slightly parted.

The man's shirt she was wearing was open enough, somehow, unbuttoned just enough to show the tops of her breasts. Compressed by the tight cups of her push-up bra, they bulged upwards like they were offering themselves to me.

That's when it occurred to me that I'd been thinking nonstop about what a beautiful woman Mrs. Johanssen was, and now it was probably time to do something about it.

There wasn't a shred of resistance when I leaned toward her. I closed my eyes and kissed Mrs. Johanssen fully on the lips.

Mrs. Johanssen returned the kiss like it was the most natural and beautiful thing in the world to do. She took it a step further as she wrapped her arms about me and pulled me close and I felt her lovely mounds pressing against my chest. My hands went to her waist to hold on as she let my tongue explore her mouth.

That's when it struck me;

I'm making out with Mrs. Johanssen! The Assistant Principal! And she's old enough to be my mom!

But none of that mattered somehow. It was obvious we had something going on that was beautiful and we were enjoying every minute of it.

It was an innocent make-out session; innocent enough, that is, given the constraints the cab of the truck and our clothing. I mean, I didn't go to unhook her bra or anything; we simply weren't

there

yet. We broke contact and both sat back to regard each other now that we'd broken through this barrier. The look of pure blissful pleasure on Mrs. Johanssen's face let me know I'd done the right thing by making my move. I swear I was thinking purely innocent, naïve little thoughts like,

So we kissed - that's gonna be it, right? A simple little make-out aspect to our relationship.

Mrs. Johanssen scooted a little closer and put her hand on my chest. Her eyes were looking down to where her fingers toyed with the button on my shirt. "Uh, Mrs. Johanssen," I croaked.

"You know Sean, I think you can call me by my first name from now on."

"Julia," I blurted. It was somehow uncomfortable to use her first name; all the years at school I'd known her as Mrs. Johanssen.

At that moment she put her lips on mine, almost as if she wanted to tell me to shut up. At the same time she put her hand on my jeans, right on top of my dick. At that point I lost any kind of capability for logical thinking.

Mrs. Johanssen kissed me hard this time, she put her tongue in my mouth. I leaned back as far as the cab of the truck would let me - in that old Ford that was quite a ways - and Mrs. Johanssen rewarded my surrender by slowly unbuttoning my shirt and running her hands all over my chest. This was very nice and I quickly developed a raging hard-on to show my appreciation.

With one hand Mrs. Johanssen skillfully undid my belt and unbuttoned my pants. She broke the kiss to look down where my knob was straining against my underwear, then looked back at me. We were obviously at another threshold. I watched in disbelief as Mrs. Johanssen pulled down the waistband of my shorts and freed my erect penis from the constraints of my underwear. I didn't know whether to be grateful or mortified as my impudent cock poked straight up in the air.

There it was, then. Mrs. Johanssen seemed to go into some sort of trance at the sight of my fully engorged member. As hard as a rock, my cock visibly twitched as if it had a life of its own. She took my shaft in her hands, looked up at me with lips slightly parted, then she lowered her head and took my length into her warm, wet mouth.

I leaned back as far as the front bench seat of that truck would allow, right back to the armrest on the door. My eyes rolled up in their sockets; I was totally overcome by the totally surreal nature of what was happening.

She's sucking my cock! Julia, Mrs. Johanssen, is sucking my cock! The Assistant Principal is sucking me off! She's sucking my cock!

I mean, it wasn't as if I'd never had my dick sucked before. I'd had a couple of girlfriends in high school and oral sex was as far as it went because we were being careful, and the girls in college all sucked dick almost as if it was required or something. But this was completely different; Mrs. Johanssen was old enough to be my mom. She was, in fact, friends with my mom! This made the whole episode even more unbelievable; I mean, I'd always assumed that the women of Mom's generation never

did

anything like that.

At one point, when she released me from her mouth to give herself a little jaw relief, I croaked, "Mrs., uh, Julia."

"Shhh," she whispered, her eyes looking up and meeting mine as she ran her tongue lovingly up and down the sides of my rod, "I want to pleasure you." With that Mrs. Johanssen parted her lips and sucked my pole into her mouth once more.

As she sucked her two hands fluttered about my pole. Mrs. Johanssen had a certain touch, an expertise I'd never experienced with any of the much younger women I'd been with; a delectable stimulation that almost deprived me of my senses. Her hands had a soft yet supple firmness on my cock. As she stroked my rod into her mouth she varied her rhythm, changing her hand grip from going up and down my entire length to the lightest touch about the rim as she tickled and teased my cockhead with her lips and tongue.

Watching Mrs. Johanssen's ruby red lips wrapped around my hard cock while the rounded tops of her full breasts heaved gave me an incredible pleasure, and it wasn't long at all until I reached my point of no return. I cried out, "Ah! Ah! Ah!" and hot semen exploded out the head of my cock.