The Lady Vanishes

It was a little after 11:00 am when the doorbell rang that Saturday morning, I was alone in the house as my twin teenage daughters Emma & Kay, had left an hour earlier to visit the local shopping centre; their father, my ex-husband Max, had left us over seven years earlier. Answering the door I was surprised to find Jake standing on our doorstep, until a week ago he’d been dating Emma, but as of last weekend, they were apparently ‘Just so over!’; I had my suspicions as to why and was confident that Emma would tell me when she felt ready to.

“Hi Jake; I’m afraid that Emma’s not here now, nor likely to be back for a few hours at least.”

“Oh, I know that and to be honest that’s why I’m here now rather than later. I’ve come to fix that broken hinge on your shed door, the one we spoke about a couple of weeks ago; Em and I may no longer be an item, but I did promise to replace it and a promise is still a promise.”

I can’t pretend that I hadn’t been disappointed to hear that he and Emma had split-up, Jake was very bright — he’d just finished his first year at one of the Oxford Colleges – rather handsome and he came from a very affluent local family too; all in all a very pleasant young man, just the sort which any mother would be happy to have dating her daughter. Jake’s appearance that morning to make good on his promise, despite the break-up with Emma perhaps summed him up perfectly? We made small talk as I opened the gate into the rear garden and he began working, but it was a rather stilted conversation, the elephant in the room being of course, his falling out with Emma; I soon left him to it and returned to the house.

It was close to one o’clock when Jake reappeared to tell me that the shed door was ‘as good as new’. I invited him in to clean up and also tried to pay him for his time, though I wasn’t surprised when he refused — he’d ‘offered to fix it as a favour and a favour it remained’ – as I’ve said, a delightful young man. Still, good manners wouldn’t permit me to send him away empty handed, so I first offered to make Jake lunch and then ‘coffee and a sandwich at least’, before exasperatedly enquiring: “Well, surely there’s something that you’d like?” and in that moment, my whole world somersaulted.

Jake was across the room in a flash, pinning me back against the worktop with his body, as his right hand plunged between my thighs, the palm closing solidly about my mons, fingers biting through my skirt and the thin cotton of my panties beneath, to dig deeply into the soft folds of my vulva while he growled: “How about what’s between your legs Mrs T? That’s the thing that every red-blooded man around here wants a piece of.”

I was stunned, caught off guard completely! I recollect Jake’s intruding knee prevented me from closing my legs on his hand and in a similar way, I feel sure that I fought tooth and nail to defend my virtue; but those might well be rather ‘air-brushed’ memories? Jake was a certainly good all around athlete, but he was no muscle-bound giant and throughout our struggle his right hand never relinquished its grip on my pubis, so my inability to escape from a one-handed man, little bigger than myself perhaps tells a somewhat different story? Nor did I scream in outrage or shout for rescue; both of my neighbours were home and one at least I knew to be outside in his garden, but the only sounds I uttered were groans and gasps from exertion and I suspect an increasing degree of arousal.

I didn’t submit meekly to Jake’s assault, the propriety and morality learnt over a lifetime would never have allowed that, but Jake’s prying right hand bestirred those more primeval teachings, absorbed over millennia and shared by us all. My veneer of respectability was simply washed away by the waves of primitive carnality emanating from my loins to flood through my belly and beyond. In less than a minute I’d conceded the struggle, as with legs trembling, I needed both hands on the worktop’s edge simply to stay upright; with his left hand now free to roam, Jake grabbed my right boob in a similarly forceful manner and easily finding my hard and distended nipple rolled it roughly between his thumb and forefinger. This released a fresh wave of desire, in response to which I threw back my head, arched my back and pressing both crotch and boob even harder against Jake’s marauding hands; finally I gave coherent voice to my feelings: “Oh God Nooooo, we have to stop!”

It was ‘we’ rather than ‘you’ that I’d cried and even to my own ears the appeal lacked conviction, but in that moment Jake’s hand dropped away from my pubis and I thought (or perhaps feared?) that he’d heeded my plea; it was a short lived respite, Jake’s hand was at my knee a moment later scrabbling at the hem of my skirt, before sliding up the inside of my naked thigh. Respectability, even common decency had by then left the building; rather than trying once more to close my legs upon Jake’s advancing hand, they parted in welcome. Jake’s fingers barely slowed on reaching my panties and pushing that impediment aside they found and immediately slipped into the very centre of my womanhood as my hips drove forward to intensify his assault. In the privacy of my own bedroom I’d often envisioned this very scenario and to my shame, despite — or perhaps because of? – Jake being my daughter’s boyfriend, he’d more than once been the perpetrator in those fantasies.

With the fingers of one hand pressed deep inside my soaking snatch, Jake’s other wrestled frantically, though somewhat ineptly at the buttons of my blouse; to be fair they were rather small and fiddly. I’d lifted my own hands to assist, when a moment of shamelessness overcame me and thinking ‘Fuck it, I cant wait!’ I grabbed at each lapel and brazenly tore my blouse apart. The buttons, along with my tits were still bouncing as Jake reached inside to roughly pull my bra aside and as his hand returned to my exposed right boob, I grabbed at the back of Jake’s head to press his face against the left. Jake didn’t disappoint and immediately drew my erect nipple between his lips to gnaw upon the swollen teat while his fingers continued toying with the other; my hips hadn’t ceased their grinding against Jake’s penetrating fingers either and this triple assault had me taut as a bowstring, it was primarily in release of that tension that I expelled a wail of prurient rapture.

Jake pulled back, a look of shock evident on his face, but his fingers remained deep inside my dripping channel and as my hips continued to gyrate against them, Jake’s expression morphed into a lewd grin; in the moment before his mouth returned to my exposed breast, he growled: “You are one horny bitch Mrs. T, I wish Em had been even half as easy as you are.”

My suspicion that their break-up might’ve stemmed from Emma’s reluctance to ‘put out’ were confirmed, but what else would I have expected? Emma was after all, a decent, virtuous and well brought up young lady, a world away from the crazed nympho that she called ‘mother’; my own expression was no doubt equally salacious, as I slipped a hand onto Jake’s crotch, fondled his rigid cock and whispered into his ear: “Yes, I’m very horny, so why don’t you get that stiff cock out and fuck me senseless?”

Jake didn’t need asking twice, his hands withdrew from my tits and pussy to all but tear his jeans and boxers free, he was fit to burst in his excitement and I was no better; Jake’s crude, almost insulting words had tripped my final switch, he now thought me a slut and I was eager to confirm that opinion! Just like the nineteen year old boys remembered from my own teenage years, Jake’s penetration attempt was rough, clumsy and inaccurate; I checked him, but smiled reassuringly as I took what felt to be his very well proportioned prick into my own hands and gently guided it between my slick outer lips. Meeting Jake’s gaze with my own, I nodded once and whispered “try now Jake” and gosh, but did he respond!

Jake’s first thrust lifted me from my feet as he slammed that stiff cock in me to the very hilt, I suspect that that was the one which left a livid bruise across my bum where it’d walloped against the worktop’s edge? The screwing which followed was every bit as violent as that first thrust, I’d never been fucked so hard before and I thanked my stars that I was already butter-slick down there. Jake drove into me like a pile-driver accompanying each hammer-blow with a stream of invective that would’ve made a coal-miner blush; he used them all Bitch! Slut! Tramp! Whore! Jake even invoked the C-word and each was accompanied with the appropriate adjectives. I ought to have been appalled by both his frenzied assault — it was akin to rape! – and the foul-mouthed tirade, but in that moment it proved to be just what I wanted and perhaps even needed?

Such a fierce coupling would’ve tested the control of any man, but for a nineteen year old, whom I suspect — though Jake later denied it — was enjoying his first time between a woman’s legs, the conclusion not surprisingly arrived both promptly and abruptly. With one hand again biting into my breasts — yet more bruises — and the other entwined in my hair, I doubt Jake lasted a dozen penetrations, before releasing a scream of conquest, which he quelled by burying his face — and teeth – into my breasts, as he discharged jets of semen into my waiting cunt. I was far from disappointed by the ending, my own explosive orgasm had arrived a good two or three impalements earlier and Jake’s fire-hose emissions served to drive it upward and onward in a way which I’d never experienced before.

Afterwards we clung to each other for longer than Jake’d spent fucking me, gasping for breath in our mutual exhaustion and I at least was satiated beyond anything I’d ever known. Only when Jake released his grip on me and took a half step backward did I discovered the true extent of my exhaustion; I immediately slipped untidily to the floor. Looking up at Jake I saw an expression on his face that was painful to behold, it showed a combination of self-loathing, regret, shame, apology and more than a little fear about what he’d just done to me. I couldn’t find the words to reassure him, but from the corner of my eye I caught sight of Jake’s glistening prick; it was every bit as big as I’d imagined and being just nineteen, it remained far from flaccid. Locking eyes with Jake I silently rolled up onto my knees, took his cock into my hand then leaned forward to wrap my lips about it’s come-coated crown. That certainly brightened Jake’s expression and as I pressed forward once more, this time engulfing his full juice-slicked length within my mouth and throat, Jake’s lewd grin reappeared as he growled: “I was right, you really are one hot milf Mrs. T”.

Fellatio was perhaps the one subject at which I’d excelled during my university days and though I’d stayed in practice while married to Max, it’d now been almost eight years since I’d sucked on a real cock; so I was pleased to find that the skill was much like riding a bike. The pleasure that it gave to me too was similarly undiminished; that sensation of a fat prick easing my lips apart, scraping across the coarse surface of my tongue, before sliding smoothly into my throat, then, after a moment’s pause, brushing back along the inside of my contracted cheeks as it returned. Like a rod of steel, encased in wet velvet and just as it did twenty years earlier, generating messages in the nerve-endings of my mouth which on dispatch to my brain seemed to get routed via my pussy; that was soon tingling, almost aching in its need to be re-filled. The effect on Jake was similar and I suspect that this too was a ‘first-time’ for him? It was now Jake’s turn to grip the kitchen worktop in an effort to stay upright. God but I wanted him back between my legs, but the look on Jake’s face and the pulsations from his swollen cock both told me that he wouldn’t last much longer and what I craved was far more than another ‘Wham-Bang-Thank-You-Mam!’

Ignoring the internal voice screaming: ‘For Christ’s sake Jessica, just fuck him again!’ I placed a bet on the reanimation abilities of youth and continued with my oral efforts; in only another minute or so, Jake lost control and came inside my mouth. Jake’s climax proved every bit as copious as the first; where did he store it all? Stream upon stream of jism poured into my mouth and though I strove to swallow it all — that had been a point of pride during my university days — I just couldn’t manage. The excess squeezed between my lips and Jake’s penetrating shaft, to run down my chin from where it dripped onto my breasts below; he was like a never ending tidal wave of come! Down on my knees, a cock wedged between my lips, face red from coughing & gagging, with semen spread across it and no doubt still dripping from my chin; I must’ve looked far from the respectable, suburban mother image which I usually projected? Jake certainly didn’t seem to mind the lapse, he was already wearing a cat that got the cream grin as he scraped semen off my face with his fingers and wiped it into my swollen breasts.

Phase two of my action-plan saw my mouth begin working on Jake’s softened cock within moments of my recovery; if anything my efforts were redoubled and Jake didn’t disappoint. His ‘softening’ ceased immediately and after a minute it was hardening once more — I’d forgotten how much I loved young cock! Another few minutes of oral-encouragement and I was confident that Jake’s third erection was back and with two loads already drained, hopefully here to stay? I pulled off his sneakers, jeans and boxers before climbing from the kitchen floor, then with his shirt and sweater removed too, I led Jake by the hand into the comfort of the lounge; my bedroom remained a little too far beyond the pale for me that day. Having laid Jake on the rug I swiftly discarded my own torn and dishevelled clothing, stepped across him and sank to my knees; his cock was still beautifully hard as I took it in my hand, guided it past my labia once more, then sank down to press it fully home into my waiting chasm.

Jake’s penetration drove the breath from me before it’d hit bottom, by the time that it did, I barely retained enough air to fuel the gasping, gargled squeal that I struggled to expel; I’d already seen that Jake was well-hung, but it was in that moment when I fully appreciated just how well. I know I was ‘out of practice’, but there had been few if any men — certainly not my husband! – who’d gored my like this; for several seconds I could do nothing beyond fight for breath as my body strove to accommodate Jake’s intrusion. But recover I did and thereafter I was totally selfish; sliding back and forth on the rampant pole buried deep within me, writhing to better grind Jake’s thick shaft against my clitoris and revelling in the electric-tingle of its tip brushing across my cervix on each pass – Oh God, but he was so deep inside!

Jake wasn’t completely passive, his hands kneaded, teased and twisted at my breasts, only ceasing when each shuddering orgasm saw me slumping forward and a hand would release to allow his mouth to engulf one swollen nipple or the other as it descended. The way Jake caressed my breasts suggested that these weren’t new territory for him; though his degree of beguilement suggested that any previous encounters had been with girls his own age — including Emma’s perhaps? My breasts might’ve lost the pert, elasticity of my youth, but through motherhood and maturity, they and most especially my nipples, had gained a resplendence with which no teenage girl could compete; Jake was enamoured and it showed.

I’ve no idea of how long I actually rode Jake’s rigid totem and ‘ride’ him I did; heck I even lost count of the number of times that I orgasmed! My earlier bet had paid off in spades, with Jake’s erection never weakening, nor his showing any sign of climaxing himself; I could and perhaps would have been fucking him still, had my knees and thighs not finally cried enough. When I next fell forward, consumed by yet another orgasm, I simply couldn’t garner the strength to lift myself upright and begin working toward another; I just lay atop Jake as his hands groped at my bum and his ever welcoming mouth once again caught me by a nipple and began to suckle. Jake might’ve been a novice but he’d understood that I was spent and released my teat for just long enough to whisper: “I guess it’s my turn do some work.” A moment later he’d rolled us both, so it was now I that lay spread-eagled upon the floor with Jake in control; how he achieved it I’ll never know, but during the transition his rigid cock never left my pussy nor his mouth my aching nipple.

That wasn’t my only ache, my thighs burned from the exertion and with abused knees now straightened and relaxed, my calves and feet tingled as the blood flowed freely to them once more. Jake allowed me little time to contemplate any of them, having regained command of my body, he was quick to make use of it and was immediately stroking firmly and deep into my tired but willing snatch. Jake quickly showed that he was a good student — I mentioned earlier that he was bright — as whilst I’d been dictating proceedings, he’d clearly noticed and remembered, what ‘hit the spot’ for me. Now that he was taking the lead, he used that knowledge to good effect, varying, the speed, depth and strength of his penetrations and rotating his hips to ‘spiral’ back on each withdrawal. I couldn’t help contemplating what a spectacular lover for some lucky girl Jake was going to become and in short order he brought me to two further orgasms; I was still savouring the second when Jake promptly stopped and withdrew. Had Jake ejaculated without my noticing?

Not or your Nelly! With his demeanour changed once more, Jake grasped me by the hips, casually flipped me onto my belly and then pausing only to deliver a sharp slap to my left buttock, he hauled me back onto my overtaxed knees as he growled into my ear: “On your knees, I want to fuck you from behind now Mrs T.” In that Instant I thought Jake meant to penetrate my bum, a prize I’d never yielded — not even to my husband! – and as Jake pressed his rigid prick down between the cheeks of my bottom, I felt sure of that intent. In the instant Jake’s cock-head pressed against the rosebud of my anus a shudder of trepidation raced through my body followed a moment later by my scream…

Not a scream of protest at Jake’s intrusion, but one of pained dismay when his cock slid-on past to slip easily into the moist depths of my pussy once again. I was horror-struck, appalled at my response; what had become of me, to be frustrated at not having suffered that shameful and depraved violation! This would surely be the reaction of an abject slut, rather than the behaviour of a mature and conservative mother?

Again Jake allowed me barely a moment to contemplate this fall from grace, having all but withdrawn his rigid cock he slammed it back into my yielding body and from that first thrust, I knew that Jake was going to subject me to another frenzied reaming. I wasn’t disappointed, Jake was as unrestrained as he’d been in the kitchen, one hand alternately pawed roughly at my breasts, or slapped my bum, the other entwined in and pulling on my hair, arching my back which served to intensify the jack-hammering of his cock into my accommodating snatch. Save our change in location and position there was perhaps just one other variation worthy of note and that was in the foul mouthed tirade which again fuelled my defilement; it was this time flowing from my own mouth rather than Jake’s! The details I’ve mostly forgotten — thank God! – but I shamelessly re-affirmed that I was indeed “one horny bitch, a dirty whore who wanted his fat cock deep inside her and a slut who begged, indeed demanded, that Jake fuck her ever harder and faster”. In the final moments when I sensed Jake’s climax was imminent, I screamed at him: “Just let it go Jake, fill my cunt with your come!”. That, to my eternal shame, I remember verbatim.