Page 03
Despite my success the day before, Gary's mom was somewhat amazed.
"You know why," I whispered, closing in behind her to nudge the back of her knee with mine.
Her eyes darted toward the living room where Mr. Robinson was enjoying the evening news. She straightened her legs and I knelt behind her, poking in both knees, causing her legs to bend and her rump to press back, right into my waiting, tented groin. She would have had to be drugged or asleep not to feel my erection which had been growing all the way from the mall. I used her partial fall as an excuse to catch her, my hands pressing against the sides of her breasts. I kissed the side of her face.
"Allen, don't!" she whispered, quickly turning around.
"One little kiss for my reward," I whispered back, pulling her toward me and seeking her lips.
"Mr. Robinson is right there," she protested.
"I don't care," I insisted, my lips landing on hers.
"Shhhhh, be quiet."
I plied her lips with mine and then slipped my tongue into her mouth. Mrs. Robinson resisted briefly but I knotted a handful of hair behind her neck to prevent her from pulling away. After a few seconds, she relaxed but I waited until the end of the kiss before sliding my palm over the front of her left breast. Mrs. Robinson didn't protest and, luckily, she had just turned around to survey the collection of cosmetics when Mr. Robinson entered the kitchen.
"What's this, then? Another successful shopping foray?"
"Yes. Allen picked all of this up for me at the mall today, and everything is from a different store." Mrs. Robinson didn't point out that all the stores from the same section in the outer ring of the main level at the mall.
"Really? That's very impressive. I told your mother it was just a temporary thing."
Mrs. Robinson's eyes shot daggers at her husband.
"I mean, this fear of going out, it was... uh, but you've made an amazing recovery, simply amazing."
"Yes. I think I might be able to keep it up, with a little help." I skirted around Mr. Robinson's indiscretion of mentioning my mother. He knew my parents were dead, and Mrs. Robinson's reaction indicated she was worried that I would find talk about my parents difficult to handle.
Mr. Robinson awkwardly tried to change the subject, "The change in scenery probably helps, I mean, getting out of the h... school."
"Yes, simply amazing," Mrs. Robinson broke in. "Allen has made tremendous progress, but we should try a few more times before we count our chickens." She shot her husband a dirty look and dismissed him before he did further damage, "I think the news is back on."
After he was gone, she placated me, "Don't pay any attention to what he says, Allen. Sometimes he doesn't think before he speaks."
I thought Mrs. Robinson was overly worried. My parents had gone so long ago I couldn't remember much about them, not even what they looked like, which I knew was strange given the accident had occurred just a few years ago. Perhaps, Mrs. Robinson was right to be worried. Maybe there was something about the accident that I was repressing. Why else would I be unable to remember what my parents looked like? A feeling of discomfort washed over me but I put on a brave face for Mrs. Robinson.
"I didn't spare him a single thought," I smiled, looking down at Mrs. Robinson's breasts which were heaving slightly from the anger she was feeling toward her husband.
She looked down at herself and smiled. "Please don't tell me what you were thinking about just now."
That night, reading on the couch with her husband sitting in his chair behind her and me opposite in my preferred observation post, it was very clear what I had been thinking about. Despite the caution I had overheard Mr. Robinson offer to Mrs. Robinson, she conducted an even more sensual display of her legs than usual. I think it was the way she used the top of one foot to rub the back of the other leg's calf, again and again, always slowly, as if to purposely draw attention to her legs.
Mr. Robinson kept his eyes riveted on either the TV or his newspaper. I was no longer worried about him catching me watching his wife. He was obviously pleased with my new ability to roam about in public and I knew, from the overheard conversation, that he attributed my success to his wife's efforts to entice me with just rewards such as her current exhibit. What he previously thought inappropriate seemed to me now allowed. He knew what was going on, if only in a limited way, and apparently the end justified the means. That would definitely change if he knew about the downstairs treats or, due to Mrs. Robinson's own inadvertent suggestion, my growing willingness to demand more.
When Mr. Robinson went to use the bathroom during a commercial break, I walked over to stand beside Mrs. Robinson, looking down upon her lovely, bare thighs. She didn't try to cover herself, just as she hadn't when her husband stood behind her and could have easily looked over to witness her wanton display. Only, she knew he wouldn't look and that I would do so intensely, but what she didn't expect was the forthright, almost possessive manner in which I reached down and pushed her knees apart, exposing a pair of blue panties.
She didn't look around to see where her husband was—the toilet hadn't yet flushed—the fleeting anger was directed at me. I didn't know yet that a woman usually doesn't like to be hurried or pushed. Nonetheless, she made no attempt to close her legs but she looked away, disinterested. Another lesson: Mrs. Robinson was demonstrating that force diminishes value.
"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I couldn't wait. I was thinking about tomorrow and my courage was waning."
Mrs. Robinson's expression softened.
"You still need my help, don't you, Allen?"
"More than ever," I confirmed, moving her knee in and out and observing the tantalizing movement it caused across the front of her panties. "Will you come tonight?"
"Do you need me to?"
"Yes," I replied throatily, in the most desperately needy voice I could muster.
"Then, I'll come."
The toilet flushed.
****
I had turned all the lights off. The room was lit only by the flickering light of the television when she entered my room and swayed toward my bed in her signature full length nightgown with a deeply cut bodice. I had the presence of mind to appreciate what a sexy woman she was as I enjoyed the formation of each leg within the gown and its subsequent disappearance as the other one started to appear with each new step.
She kept her eyes focused on mine, which is probably why she didn't notice that I had swept the blankets to the side. She leaned down to give me a kiss.
"I can't stay. Mr. Robinson was too excited to go to sleep."
I didn't argue. I simply raised my lips up to meet hers. As we kissed, I curled my hand around to the back of her head and when she sank lower, I put my arm around her shoulder to encourage her descent. Her knee pressed into the mattress.
"Maybe for just one long kiss," she whispered.
I let her sink down until she was lying atop me, keeping her mouth engaged in a very long kiss.
"You're very naughty to delay me," she said, trailing her fingers across my forehead. "Mr. Robinson will wonder what's keeping me."
"Will he?" I asked, recapturing her mouth.
When our mouths parted, she said, "We really have to talk about setting some boundaries."
Suddenly, her face filled with surprise.
"Allen," she cried, twisting about on top of me. "What have you done with the blankets?"
"It was too hot. I left them off," I answered, my hands encircling her waist to keep her from escaping.
"But we can't lie together like this."
"Like what?"
"Without blankets."
"Why not? What difference does it make?"
"It's not proper."
"Why? We're both dressed." I didn't mention that I was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts. I tried to kiss her but she pulled away.
"I don't know. I think it's too much."
"It's fine," I said, stretching up and raining several small kisses on her lips.
She was reluctant but many kisses turned into another long one. It was an amazing kiss, the warmest, most fluid one we'd ever had, perhaps stoked by the proximity of our genitals separated by two thin barriers of clothing, her heat and softness contrasting with my urgent hardness. I could taste the reluctant desire seething inside her.
When we finished, I was surprised by her seeming acceptance of our new situation. She offered no indication that she wanted to leave except for a verbal one which I ignored.
"Mr. Robinson will be wondering where I am. I really should go."
I moved my hands up and down her back, stretching up to brush her lips with mine and basking in the puffy softness pressing against me. I rolled her a bit from side to side and was delighted that she allowed me to exacerbate the pressure between us that delivered a tingling glow that spread wonderfully throughout my groin.
"I really should go," she whispered.
I knew she didn't want to.
"He's probably fallen asleep."
"Do you think so?"
"Was he reading?"
I pushed my hands down to the small of her back and beyond, slightly up the rise to her buttocks, stunned that there was no objection. Maybe setting boundaries wasn't such a bad idea so I could relish the thrill of breaking them.
"Yes."
"You said he always falls asleep right away when he reads in bed."
"He does," she confirmed.
"So, you can stay a little longer."
"Maybe," she chuckled, this time playfully brushing her lips across mine, amused by my logic but accepting it just the same.
I pushed my hands higher up the forbidden slope.
"What are you doing back there, Mister?"
"Checking out my prize," I said, pushing my hands up to the crest and letting them lie still, cupping the crest of her buttocks.
"Your prize?"
"Yes. Those blue panties."
"You'll have to go somewhere special if you want me to give them to you tomorrow," she teased, amazingly not making me remove my hands which were already beginning to gently squeeze.
"Tonight," I corrected her.
"Tonight?"
"Tonight," I repeated. "I want to hold them tonight so I'll be ready for the challenge tomorrow."
It made sense but she wasn't succumbing to my logic this time.
"I can't give them to you tonight. I'm wearing them."
"You're wearing a nightgown. Just slip them off."
"I can't go to bed without my panties. My husband will see."
"Mr. Robinson is asleep," I said, deliberately trying to distance him.
"He might not be."
"He won't notice."
"No, he probably won't," she admitted.
The tone in her voice shot a thrill through my chest that ended lower, causing a shiver in my dick. It spoke bucketloads about Mrs. Robinson's sex life.
"I would notice."
"Would you?" she smiled, inquisitively.
"I've noticed every day since I came here."
"Yes, I guess you have," Mrs. Robinson giggled.
I grabbed her lips with mine and kissed her hard, pulling my left hand up to hold her face against mine but freely exploring her ass with my right. It was fantastic watershed moment in our relationship, one that wasn't mentioned in the brief interlude between that kiss and the next. At the end of that one, we were both panting and there was no breath left for words, except, that is, when she felt me using both hands to draw her nightgown up, bunching it on her bottom.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting ready to take your panties off."
"I didn't say you could."
I didn't answer but kept pulling the nightgown up.
"Not now. I'll take them off when I leave."
"No, now," I insisted, offering no reason.
"Allen, I can't."
"Yes, you can."
Nothing more was said. Silently, I tugged the long nightgown until it was bunched up on her bum, spilling over onto the slope to her narrow waist. I loved the way her butt flared into its full expression.
We lay still, as if we were both savoring the moment. Then, Mrs. Robinson started to push her panties down.
"Let me do it."
She relented, allowing me to struggle with the panties which were actually very easy to remove but I made a meal of it, rubbing my hands all over her cheeks and accidentally letting my fingers stray into crevices in which they had no business. I managed to get them to her knees and then used my foot to push them down to her ankles, an action which me to visit a lot of inexcusable motion upon her pussy through the thin nightgown. I pushed the panties off her feet and kicked. They landed on Mrs. Robinson's back where I pulled them up for inspection and sniffed them.
"Allen, that's gross."
"Sorry," I laughed. "I couldn't help myself."
"Well, don't do it again. At least, not in front of me."
"I won't if you let me do it to the real thing."
"Allen!"
"Sorry. Kiss better?"
"Okay, but this is the last one. I really have to go."
It was a passionate kiss. Mrs. Robinson let me run my hand all over her bare ass which I hadn't recovered with the nightgown. The curvature of those two globes was incredibly exciting. She even let me grasp a cheek in each hand and pull them apart a few times. Judging by the muted snort through her nostrils each time I did that, I surmised that it must feel good and was probably stretching and relaxing her pussy lips. Upon that realization, I spread her cheeks more frequently. As the kiss became more active, Mrs. Robinson shoved herself upon me of her own accord without the need for me to pull her down, which I still did since I was her working her ass cheeks anyway. Maybe she was giving second thought to my suggestion of doing the real thing.
A dampness flooded my shorts and, for a second, I thought I had come but then realized I hadn't. Mrs. Robinson broke the kiss and nestled her sweaty cheek tightly against mine, her chin digging into the hollow of my neck as she panted heavily beside my head, hands clutching my shoulders. She had come. I breached my own dam within seconds. Less than a minute after that, Mrs. Robinson stood up. There was a large damp spot on the front of her nightgown in a very incriminating spot, likely a mixture of our mutual excitement.
"Oh, dear," she said, then pulled the long nightgown over her head. Completely nude, she laughed and said, "Mr. Robinson better be asleep." She draped the nightgown over her arm and slowly walked away, leaving the beautiful ass my hands had recently become so familiar with to tease my following eyes in the dim, flickering light.
****
The next day, Mrs. Robinson sent me on a more adventurous mission to the ticket center in the center of the lower floor in the mall. I tried, I really did, but when the center was in sight, I suddenly felt like I was being smothered, and ran outside and didn't stop until I was home.
"That was quick," Mrs. Robinson called from the kitchen when she heard me burst in.
"I forgot something, haven't done it yet," I yelled as I bolted downstairs.
Flinging myself on onto the bed, I almost burst into tears. Though I didn't, I'm sure I looked like I had. A big baby who can't even buy tickets to a baseball game. I slugged the mattress hard, half a dozen times. Fuck!
I threw myself onto my back, lifting a hand and resting its back on my forehead. I breathed deeply, trying to force the frustration out of my body and the feeling of shame by digging my knuckles into my eyes. What would she think of me now? How could I face her?
There was a light knock on my door, though it wasn't closed. I twisted onto my side, back to the door, so I didn't have to face her.
"Are you okay, Allen?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I'll be up in a minute." Though I tried, I wasn't able to keep the despair out of my voice.
"There's no need to go, Allen. Mr. Robinson can pick the tickets up on his way home from work."
I turned onto my back. Even without looking directly at her, I was aware of her body.
"Then it won't be a surprise," I lamented.
"He'll still be thrilled to go to a game with you."
"How can I go to a game if I can't even get the tickets? No. I'm going back. Just give me a minute."
"Okay, Allen. I'll be upstairs if you need me."
Ten minutes later I went upstairs, feeling sheepish but refortified. I was determined to prove to Mrs. Robinson, and Mr. Robinson too for that matter, that I wasn't a basket case. I was a man, not a scarety-cat little kid, but as I topped the first set of stairs near the entranceway my resolve began to fade. I turned away and climbed the short set of stairs to the main level. Mrs. Robinson came into view in pieces, first her head, then her body, and finally her legs. She was facing away from me, puttering with something on the kitchen counter. I knew she wasn't really doing anything, that she was really just waiting to see me off. I hadn't turned away from the door in fear, I told myself, it just wouldn't be right to leave without assuring her that I could do this small thing for her.
Since leaving my room, Mrs. Robinson had changed her dress. It looked like a simple, plain brown shift from the back but when she turned around and smiled at me, it was anything but. The neckline plunged deep, almost to her belly button, bracketing the tanned inner swells of her breasts.
"Are you off?" she asked, her smile recognizing that she had swept my breath away.
"Yes. I just came up to say goodbye."
"Goodbye? We'll never say goodbye, Allen."
I was almost to her when she raised her arms for a hug. I stepped into her arms, slipping mine around her waist, and looked into her warm, welcoming eyes. They were all the inspiration I needed but I lowered my gaze to take in the unblemished, sculptured skin revealed by her sexy dress.
"Do you like my new dress?"
"Yes. It's beautiful."
"Dresses are nice, Allen. Women are beautiful."
"Then, you're beautiful."
"I wasn't fishing for compliments."
"You don't have to."
I stepped back, pulling her waist with me, which pushed her breast up, almost popping them out of the dress.
"That's a very dangerous dress," I remarked.
"Then it's suitable attire to bid my hero farewell on a dangerous mission."
"Yes, it's perfect for making a man know what he's fighting for," I laughed, making a mountain out of the molehill of a task facing me. Suddenly, the enormity of that challenge, for me, at least, ripped the gaiety from my chest, leaving it hollow. I gasped for air.
"Allen, what's the matter?"
I sank to my knees and buried my face in her dress, my arms falling from her waist and wrapping around her thighs. Mrs. Robinson's fingers slid through my hair.
"Shhhhhhh," she comforted.
I shook my head, shaking off her hands.
"Don't," I cried. I was surprised by the look of helplessness in her face. Why should she feel that way? I was the one with the handicap. I realized with a start that when Mrs. Robinson helped me she helped herself, too. To be unable to help someone close to you must be unbearable, and her reaction showed that she cared for me deeply. I resolved to help her. I pushed up on her dress.
"Allen, Mr. Robinson will be home any minute."
"I need see why I'm going," I said, pushing the dress higher, overcoming the feeble attempt of her hands to block my progress.
"It's too late, today. We'll try again tomorrow."
"No," I firmly rejected the offer of escape. I knew I couldn't go to sleep tonight with this failure hanging over our heads. "You must remind me," I insisted, pushing so hard Mrs. Robinson's dress traveled high enough for her panties to peek through. "Hold it up," I commanded, bunching the dress into her hands, but it was also a desperate plea, and she knew it.
I stared at her panties, sitting like a shallow boomerang that dipped from its wings near Mrs. Robinson's hips to meet in the middle, a slightly thicker section covering the magic center of life that I had only glimpsed until now. I remembered it's warmth as it pressed down upon me the night before and the power it held to bring forth my seed.
