Jake showed up at my door with a duffel bag and that cocky grin he always wore around my son. At nineteen he was all muscle and attitude, and when he asked if he could crash for a few weeks while his lease fell through, I said yes without thinking. My son was away at college, the house felt empty, and Jake needed a place. I told myself it was just being nice.
The first night he walked around shirtless after his shower. Water still beaded on his chest and the towel sat low on his hips. I caught myself staring at the outline of his dick pressing against the fabric. He noticed. You okay, Mrs. R? he asked, voice low.
I nodded and went to bed wet between the legs.
By the third night the tension was thick. I was in the kitchen in a thin tank top and shorts when he came in from the garage. You keep looking at me like you want something, he said, stepping close. His hand landed on my hip. I didnt pull away.
Jake, this is a bad idea, I whispered, but my nipples were already hard against the cotton.
He slid his hand under my tank and cupped my tit, thumb rubbing the stiff peak. Then tell me to stop. I didnt. He kissed me hard, tongue pushing into my mouth while his other hand shoved down my shorts and found my pussy. Two fingers sank straight into me. I was soaked.
Fuck, youre dripping, he growled against my lips. He pumped his fingers fast, thumb circling my clit until my knees buckled. I came on his hand right there against the counter, biting his shoulder to stay quiet.
That night I let him fuck me on the living-room couch. He bent me over the arm, yanked my shorts to my ankles, and drove his thick cock into me in one thrust. No slow buildjust raw, deep strokes that made my tits swing and my cunt grip him. You like your sons friend pounding this married pussy? he grunted. I moaned yes and pushed back onto him until he flooded me with cum.
After that it became constant. Mornings hed wake me by eating my ass while I was still half asleep, tongue pushing inside while his fingers worked my clit. Id come hard, then ride his face until my thighs shook. Afternoons hed bend me over the washing machine, pull my panties aside, and fuck me quick and dirty, filling me before the cycle finished. Evenings wed watch TV with his cock buried in my mouth, me on my knees between his legs while he held my hair and used my throat.
One night he made me say it out loud. He had me on all fours on my bed, cock stretching my pussy wide. Tell me whose slut you are, he demanded, slapping my ass.
Yours, I gasped. Im your slut while my sons away.
He pulled out, pressed the head against my asshole, and pushed in slow. The stretch burned but I pushed back until he was balls-deep in my ass. He fucked it rough, one hand reaching under to rub my clit until I squirted on the sheets. When he came he stayed inside, letting his load leak out around his cock.
Weeks passed and the house smelled like sex. I stopped wearing panties. Hed finger me while I cooked, bend me over the table between bites of dinner, or wake me in the middle of the night to fuck my tits and come on my face. I swallowed every drop and begged for more.
The day before my son came home, Jake fucked me one last time in the shower. He pinned me to the tiles, lifted one leg, and drove into my pussy until I was sobbing from the orgasms. Youre gonna miss this cock, he said, filling me again.
I came one more time clenching around him, knowing it was true. When he pulled out, his cum ran down my thighs. I didnt wash it off right away.
He moved out the next morning, but the memory of his hands and his dirty mouth stayed with me. Every time the house got quiet I thought about the way he used meraw, filthy, and exactly what I needed.
