The house was so quiet.
It was almost scary.
This was my third day of watching Mrs. Richard's house while she was away. Each day I stopped by after my classes at the college and checked on things.
Ever since I turned eighteen, Mrs. Richards had insisted I call her Mary, but old habits are hard to overcome and I could only think of her as Mrs. Richards.
I had known Mrs. Richards forever. In all the time that I had known her, my entire life, she never mentioned a Mr. Richards. There were whispered rumors that she was secretly seeing the Dean of the College, Mr. Roberts, but if she was, she was very discreet about it. If it was true, my mom would have talked about it, she was the original small town gossip queen. I didn't think she could have any secrets, much less something that big, especially since she was Mrs. Richard's best friend.
Besides, the Dean was married. It was weird anyway; my mom and Mrs. Richards always seemed to be together, I don't know how she would have time for Mr. Roberts.
Mrs. Richards was always around our house or mom was over at hers, she had even gone on vacation with us several times.
Maybe I noticed the quietness of the empty house more today, because of what I planned to do. I had been tempted, but too afraid to try on the first two days. I had been dreaming about it for a couple of weeks. I knew I might get in deep trouble but I wanted to try it so badly. Today, I told myself I just had to. I had convinced myself the odds of being caught were very small since there were no other houses nearby.
All through the day today, I had trouble concentrating in class, to the point where several of my teachers had commented and asked if I was okay. I was more than okay I don't think I had ever been more excited in my life.
Mrs. Richard's house was perfect for what I had in mind. It was on the outer edge of town, virtually in the country, she had no neighbors, and in the other two days, I hadn't heard or seen any traffic. The house matched her completely everything was stylish and perfect.
Since I was old enough to remember, I had always thought she was the most beautiful woman that I had ever seen. Everything from her long legs to her classic looks haunted my dreams. I couldn't think of a time that I hadn't had a secret crush on her.
I don't normally think about girls, but I am definitely curious about Mrs. Richards.
I had thought about being naked in places I wasn't supposed to be ever since Mrs. Richards let it slip that she did her housework naked. I was not supposed to have overheard the comment, but on their third or fourth glass of wine, she and mom were laughing about it and mom repeated it loud enough for me to overhear in the next room.
Maybe it was my hormones or because I wasn't seeing anyone right now, but the thought of her dusting and vacuuming nude was the sexiest thing I could imagine. I imagined doing my chores secretly naked, the dishes, my homework, even hanging the laundry naked. The idea seemed to open a door to my sensuality that I didn't realize was even there before.
I just never thought I would get the chance, especially in my house.
I was rarely alone except at night in bed in my very small bedroom. I had three sisters and as the oldest, when I was not at the local college, I was working, or I was babysitting. To be alone in that big empty house was too good of an opportunity to miss. I even remembered with a smile that Mrs. Richards had said that I could bring a friend over for a little alone time.
Mrs. Richards was so cool. In addition to being my mom's best friend, she also happened to be one of my instructors and she was my favorite teacher. She towered over me, at almost 6.3, she was bigger than most men, but very well proportioned and very sexy, at least I thought so. In her late forties, she could easily be fifteen years younger.
I told her that I might come over and watch TV, but I told her my boyfriend and I had broken up a few weeks ago.
"Such a waste," she had said and told me that it was too bad because I was such a pretty and sexy young woman.
"No, you must need glasses, Mrs. Richards," I said.
"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Mary and Brooke and don't be silly, everyone thinks you are beautiful. You are a great student, and you are so nice and helpful. Mr. Roberts commented the other day to me how great you are, and even though he isn't supposed to say things like this, he said you must be one of the sexiest students in the college."
"Remember Brooke, I've seen you naked, you might be small but you are very sexy," she added, it had been a few months ago, we were in her hot tub and after a glass of wine, she had convinced me to take off my bikini. Things were just starting to get interesting when my sisters splashed into the hot tube. We hadn't been alone together since.
I think my heart almost exploded and I tried unsuccessfully to hide my blushing.
"It's true Brooke," Mrs. Richards said when she saw my blushing. "I see all of the guys and some girls looking at you, hell even most of the instructors make comments about how sexy you are.
After Mrs. Richards made those comments, I almost floated through the rest of my day. The next day when Mr. Roberts smiled at me in the hall, I just about walked into a door, which brought me back to earth with a thud, especially when his smile become a laugh. He did make sure I was okay and very discretely, he patted me on the butt.
Nobody noticed, but it couldn't have been an accident and it really got my imagination going. I knew it was inappropriate, but I would never tell. Up until then, I had only dated boys my own age, and other than dreaming about Mrs. Richards, I had never even considered older men. I smiled, Mr. Roberts was older than my father, and I daydreamed in my next class about what his body might look and feel like.
"If you are going to dream, you might as well dream big," I told myself, smiling.
In the days leading up to her conference, between thoughts of Mr. Roberts, Mrs. Richards, and getting naked in her house, I could feel myself getting wetter and more slippery more often. At the end of those days, I could not wait to be alone and bed and sometimes even went to bed early. Last night, my first orgasm was about Mr. Roberts and I came hard, my second was about Mrs. Richards, and my third just before I drifted off to sleep was about all three of us together.
Mr. Roberts was the College Dean; he was maybe in his late fifties or early sixties, in decent shape, and almost movie-star handsome, or so my friends thought so. He was very popular with the students because he tried really hard to be fair and encourage everyone. He was at almost all student events and had made a real effort to connect with everyone.
If Mrs. Richards liked him, I could understand why.
As I thought about him, I realized that I had seen him or had him say "hello" to me much more often in the last several months than ever before. More than once I thought he had been watching my boobs or ass, but I had always just thought it was my imagination.