Sarita Collins drove slowly down the street, watching for #1121. Could hardly miss it, however, as when she got there the boy was in the driveway, kneeling beside his mower, fiddling with the engine. She stopped, rolling down the window.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he called as he stood up and turned around, raising his hand in a little wave.
Ooh, he’s a little cutie! was her first impression.
He had on jeans and an olive green T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, a dirty red baseball cap pulled over rather shaggy brown hair. His cute face and his muscular arms were deeply tanned.
I bet all the little girls are after you, she mused. “Are you ready?”
He nodded with an easy smile as he got behind the mower and pushed it toward the street. “Pop the trunk?” he requested.
She pushed the button for the trunk as she opened her car door, paused to automatically look into the back, making sure the baby was okay in the car seat, then climbed out and came around to the back of the car.
“Need a hand?” she offered.
“Nah, I got it,” he replied, bending down to grab the deck of the mower, front and back.
She watched his biceps and shoulders bulge as he easily lifted the mower with its 5 horse-power engine, hefting it high over the lip and into the trunk.
“I guess you do,” she joked, returning the grin he gave her.
He added his weed-eater and a small gas can to the trunk, then used a bungee cord to tie the trunk lid down as far as it would go with the mower handle sticking out. Then they both got in the car, Sarita checking on the baby again before putting on her seat belt and putting the car in gear. As she started off, John reached to flip up the visor on the passenger side.
“Oh, sorry, that’s broken,” she said as the visor flopped right back down. “I haven’t ever taken it in to get fixed…”
He flipped it back up and then down, leaning in to study it, then leaned back to reach into his pants pocket. He came out with some change, selected a silver dime and put the rest back. He pushed the visor all the way forward against the windshield and used the dime to tighten a screw near the pivot arm.
Sarita watched curiously, then her jaw dropped in amazement when he pushed the visor back up to the top and it stayed. He dropped the dime into the little tray between the cupholders in the console between the front seats, giving her another one of those smiles.
“In case it comes loose again,” he said.
Jesus Christ, that just made me wet! she marveled, finding herself giving a nervous little giggle under the gaze of those dark brown eyes. And I’m blushing like a school girl!
She turned her attention to driving as they rode the rest of the way home in silence, but she couldn’t help thinking of her white-collar husband, with his soft hands and pale skin. He had been in this car at least a dozen times with the visor flopping free, and the only thing he had done is tell her to take it in and get it fixed.
John had fixed it in ten seconds…
It only took a few minutes to reach her house, which was less than a mile away. She parked in the drive, then busied herself getting the baby out of the car seat, letting John handle his own equipment.
“Give me a holler when you’re done,” she told him before scurrying into the house.
She went straight to her room, laying the baby on the bed between two pillows. Going to her vanity, she looked in the mirror and cursed herself for going out with no makeup and her hair up in a bandana, wearing baggy clothes. It had been days since she had fixed herself up, since it was only her and the baby. Her husband had been gone all week to an out-of-state conference, not that getting dolled up for him did her any good, even when he was home. They had not had sex since her first trimester, and the baby was coming up on 9 months old.
After checking the baby again, she dashed into her bathroom for a hurry-up shower with a hair wash and quick shave of the pits and legs. Thankfully, the baby stayed asleep long enough for her to blow-dry her hair and put on some decent clothes, then fix her makeup and put in some contacts in lieu of her glasses.
She felt a little silly, fixing herself up just because the new lawn boy was cute–he was only 16 for Christ’s sake, but she didn’t want to be seen as a frumpy old lady. She still wanted to be the pretty girl that could turn men’s heads–she certainly didn’t want to be over the hill at 32, just because she had become a mother. She just wanted to be…desirable.
She had to admit, it felt good just to be looking a little like her old self as she checked herself out in the full length mirror.
Despite her mother giving her the name Sarita, there wasn’t an ounce of Latina in her. She was a petite (5’2″) natural blonde with blue eyes and a milky-white complexion. With a pre-pregnancy weight of 102 pounds, she had never had the curvy hips or big booty, and was always flat-chested with her little A-cup boobs. At least the baby brought me some tits, she thought as she turned sideways to check out her profile. As long as she was breastfeeding, her milk-heavy boobs were a full D, actually looking huge on her tiny frame.
“Am I a MILF?” she asked no one as she struck a pose, then rolled her eyes and snorted at her own vanity, going to pick up the baby who had begun to fuss.
“Mommy is a MILFy! Yes her is–Yes her is!” she sing-songed as she bounced the baby and headed back downstairs.
* * * * *
Sometime later, Sarita was seated at the breakfast table in the kitchen, feeding the baby, when she got a text from hubby saying he was going to stay over for the weekend to go golfing with some company bigwigs. Frickin’ coward didn’t even have the balls to call…
Not for the first time did she wonder if he was having an affair. Either way she was pissed–they were supposed to be going out Saturday night. She already had the sitter lined up and everything–it had been ages since she had been out. She was sending back a scathing response when John knocked on the patio door. She finished her text and waved him in, distracted as hubby texted back: Sorry babe, it’s work. You can still go out, tho. Ask one of your girlfriends.
She tossed the phone away in disgust, then looked up and was a bit taken aback by the sight of the sweaty teenager. He had taken his shirt off and stuffed a bit of it into his back pocket, where it dangled now. His bare torso was lean and muscular, with bulging pecs and well defined abs, completely hairless but for a little gathering below the belly button that trailed down into the elastic band of his tighty-whitey underwear, which his loose-waisted jeans revealed.
“You mind if I get a drink?” he asked.
A little startled and embarrassed at having been staring, she looked up and saw that his eyes were looking at the baby nursing at her left breast. Breastfeeding had become so routine for her that she didn’t even think about it.
“D-drink?” she stammered.
“Water?” he said, meeting her eye.
“Oh! Of course! The glasses are up there, first cabinet,” she pointed. “There’s ice–”
“Tap’s fine,” he interrupted, giving her that easy smile.
Sarita watched him go to the sink and turn on the water, then bend down to drink straight from the stream. She should have taken this opportunity to stop nursing and cover herself, as the baby was finished anyway and just sleeping while comforting with the nipple, but she couldn’t look away from the beautiful shirtless teen until he stood back up and turned her way.
Blushing anew, she detached the baby and turned away. “How much do I owe you?” she asked softly over her shoulder as she lowered the baby into the bouncer beside her chair.
“Forty? Are you sure that’s enough?” she asked as she turned back toward him.
“It’s good,” he confirmed.
Sarita followed his gaze, looking down to see that her tit was still out, a fat droplet of milk clinging to the distended nipple. What the hell is wrong with me? she wondered. This kid had her all discombobulated. She wiped off the drip with her index figure and stuck it in her mouth.
“Sorry,” she said, looking up at him with a nervous smile as she raised the flap of her nursing bra and clipped it into place.
“How’s that taste?” He smiled back, giving her tummy a flip-flop.
My God, that smile! “Delicious,” she answered, giving her finger another suck. Damn, now I’m flirting…
There was an awkward silence, with him looking at her. Perhaps it was because she was pissed at hubby, or that she suspected him of cheating, or just because a cute guy was paying attention to her after so long–in any case, what she said next came out without her even knowing it was coming.
“You want a taste? I just so happen to have another full one right here…”
She pulled her breastfeeding shirt open to expose her right boob. John was cool, continuing to smile at her and turning his cap around backwards as he slowly knelt beside her chair. Captivated by his brown eyes and white teeth, Sarita found herself unclipping the flap of her bra and uncovering her tit. He finally broke eye contact, looking down at it.
“What do I have to do?” he asked softly.
“Just put your mouth on it and suck,” Sarita murmured, suddenly breathless.
Time seemed to slow down as she watched him lean down, opening his mouth. Her nipples used to be tiny and faint pink on her little titties. With the pregnancy, not only had her tits grown, her nips had gotten bigger, thicker, longer, turning a dusky, brownish shade of dark pink. Sarita watched in fascination as he latched on, took a long sucking pull, then backed off to swish it in his mouth and swallow. Apparently finding it to his liking, he gave her a quick grin then dove back in.
She had never thought of breastfeeding as anything other than a motherly chore. An intimate, bonding experience between mother and child, certainly, but in no way erotic. Now, with this teen hunk growing more and more enthusiastic with his feeding, she was swooning, overcome with desire. She wrapped her arms around him, one across his broad muscular shoulders, the other pushing the hat off his head to twine her fingers into his hair. She held on tightly, pulling him to her as he robustly suckled.
Sarita whimpered with passion, squeezing her thighs tightly together as her neglected pussy responded to the lascivious stimulus from John’s sucking mouth, not to mention the mere feel of his hard-muscled young body pressing against her. Even the smell of him, sweat and fresh-cut grass and gasoline, the heady masculine scents of a physical male specimen who works with his rough, callused hands, and can fix a nuisance like a floppy visor in a car in mere seconds with only a thin dime as a tool.
From out of nowhere, an orgasm ripped through Sarita’s body. She emitted a gasping cry at the unexpected climax. Pulling hard on John’s shaggy hair, she lifted his mouth to hers, plunging her tongue in to intertwine with his, tasting her own sweet milk as she clung to him desperately while her body was wracked by blissful waves of spasmodic pleasure.
She must have made too much noise, as the sound of the baby becoming fitful penetrated to her subconscious motherly instinct.
She broke the kiss, breathing hard as the orgasm wound down. She pulled John’s head back to look into his hungry eyes, suddenly realizing that her right hand was on the bulge in the front of his jeans. She glanced down at the baby, then back. Reluctantly, she let go of his crotch and put both hands on his bare chest, pushing him back.
“Wait,” she whispered breathlessly, holding him at arm’s length. “Wait.” For a moment, she lost her train of thought, running her hands over his smooth, muscular chest, but another noise from the baby brought her back to reality. “Don’t…Don’t go anywhere,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’ll be right back.”
She reached down and gently got the baby out of the bouncer, then rose on shaky legs and headed for the stairs, glancing back several times to make sure the boy was still there.
First, she went to the nursery and carefully laid the baby in the crib, whispering, “sleep, baby, sleep. Mommy needs this…”
After assuring that the baby was settled, she hurried into her own room. Stopping in the middle of the floor, her eyes darted around nervously. What was she doing here? Catching her own reflection in the mirror, she noticed her right boob still exposed. Reaching up the back of her shirt, she unclasped her bra, quickly pulled the straps down to extricate her arms, then pulled the thing out and tossed it away. Her breastfeeding shirt would give him access to her tits if he wanted, while still covering her belly–she had not lost all the baby weight yet, and the shirt was not coming off, for love nor money!
Next she quickly removed the shorts and granny panties she had donned after her shower. Although she had dressed to look decent for the hot young hunk, she had not even conceived the notion that he might be seeing her underwear, let alone that she would be having sex with him.
Oh-my-God–I’m going to fuck the lawn boy!
She briefly considered going back down wearing nothing but the shirt. No, she decided, that’s a little TOO thirsty… She went to her underwear drawer and dug down to her pre-pregnancy undies. She chose a sexy little black thong and stepped into it, suddenly wishing she had taken the time to shave her pussy when she did her legs–Do young guys like pussy hair? She had no idea, but it was too late now.
She hurried over to the vanity and fixed her lipstick, fluffed her blonde locks into what she hoped looked sexy, then spritzed some perfume into the air and practically ran through it, out of the room, and back to the stairs. Forcing herself to appear calm, she slowed to descend the stair at a sedate pace, smiling when she saw that her young lover was indeed still there, seated in a kitchen chair, legs splayed out haphazardly, one arm over the chair back, the other resting on the table, fingers drumming softly. He returned her smile with his own–confident, almost cocky.
Too fucking cool! He was only 16–half her age!–but he was definitely an Alpha male! A shiver ran through her body as she approached him.
She went straight to him, climbing over to straddle his legs and sit on his lap, briefly looking into his eyes before attacking his lips with her own. He kissed her back, hard and deep, while his rough hands explored her body, roaming over her thighs, her ass, her back and her breasts. She was mewling with need by the time he stood, lifting her easily with his hands holding her ass.
He planted her on the kitchen table. Pulling her loose shirt down to expose her bare tits, he leaned down to give each one a quick suck as he unfastened and dropped his jeans. Then he stood back upright and dropped his underwear.
Sarita gasped when she saw his cock, erect and ready. It wasn’t huge–maybe six inches with a nice bit of girth, but as her hand went to it, naturally wrapping around it to squeeze and stroke, it was so stiff, the hardest cock she had felt in years, not to mention the only cock in well over a year…
John leaned down to kiss her again as she pulled her thong to the side and guided him to her extremely ready hole. She was very wet, whimpering as he Frenched her deeply whilst he slowly, almost teasingly pushed it in.
She realized she had been subconsciously worried that her pussy had been ruined by childbirth, despite all the literature that said it would snap back, perhaps hers was the exception, blown out, never to be fuckable again. As John’s hard cock filled her, however, all her fears were allayed by the snug feeling of fullness. She broke off kissing him to lean back and look down at his cock buried inside her–her pink pussy lips stretched thin by the thick root.
“Oh, John!” she moaned. “Does it feel good to you?”
“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned back.
She noted that his cock and balls were shaved down to the base, with the hair surrounding it cropped very short. Her own honey-colored pubes brushed against him.
“Do…Do guys like…pussy hair?”
He smiled and shrugged. “I do.”
She smiled back and reached up to pull him down by the neck to kiss him again. then wrapped her legs around his lean waist.
“Fuck me, John,” she begged.
He wasted no more time and did just that.
Sarita lay back, resting on her elbows as she watched the beautiful young stud begin driving that incredibly hard cock in and out of her long-neglected pussy. It became increasingly obvious to her that he was plenty experienced–fucking was not new to him. She briefly wondered how many other housewives in the vicinity were availing themselves beyond his lawn care services. Ultimately, it did not matter to her, she was just eternally thankful that he knew what he was doing as he pulled her blouse down to fondle her bouncing tits while he banged her harder and harder.
Her eyes didn’t know where to land, flitting between his intense gaze, the muscles rippling beneath his taut young tanned skin, and the eager young cock making her pussy cream already. Suddenly, his groping hand made milk squirt out of her right breast, apparently startling him as his fucking pace faltered, surprise on his face.
“It’s okay,” she assured him. “They do that.” She could see that it also excited him, however. “I’ll show you. Just please keep fucking me!”
She lowered herself flat on her back so she could squeeze her breasts, shooting her milk haphazardly into the air as John grabbed her hips and resumed slamming his cock into her fast and hard. She was getting milk all over her chest and her hands, even onto her face, but she did not care one bit as long as he kept fucking her–she was getting so close!
“Oh, John!” she moaned. “Yes, please keep fucking me! I’m gonna cum! Ohhh! Yes, John! Make me cum! Please! OH GOD, JOHN, YES, HERE I CUM–OH JOHN!!! Ummmmm–!”
She stuck her milk covered hand into her mouth and bit down on it hard to keep from screaming so loud she might wake the sleeping baby upstairs as the powerful climax wracked her body with spasms of forbidden, adulterous gratification.
Apparently that was enough to send her taboo young lover over the edge, also, as he pulled his cock out of her spasming pussy and jerked it off frenziedly with a groan of his own orgasmic release. His powerful climax shot semen as far up as her chin, ropes of white hot cum adding to the milky mess on her neck, chest, and shirt.
After a minute or two to recover, John stepped back to pull up his underwear and pants. Sarita sat up with a groan of her own, looking down with amazement at the state of herself, a bit self-conscious now that it was all over. She slid off the table, turning her back as John got himself dressed. She adjusted her panties and covered her tits as best she could with her messy shirt.
“Um, Do you…Would you, um, like to, um, need to take a shower?” she asked clumsily over her shoulder.
“No thanks,” John answered, glancing out the window. “I’ve got another lawn to mow before the sun goes down.”
“Oh, sure, of course,” she responded. “Will you, um, need a ride?” she asked as she wobbled on weak legs over to the kitchen sink to grab a dish rag to wipe her hands and face.
“Nah, it’s just a couple of blocks from here,” he answered.
“Oh, okay–let me just get your money…40 dollars you said?” she asked as she picked up her wallet from the counter.
She fished out two twenties from her wallet and laid them on the counter in front of him, then took out a one hundred dollar bill and slowly laid it atop the twenties as she finally looked up to meet his gaze.
“Thanks,” he said in his confident manner, looking her right in the eye with a smile as he picked up the bills and stuffed them into his hip pocket. “That was great.”
Once again his easy smile was able to put her at ease. That, and her well-satisfied pussy were enough to overcome her embarrassment at her wanton, licentious behavior.
“Yeah, for me, too,” she responded with a smile of her own.
He turned to leave, but she stopped him as his hand was reaching for the door.
“Hey!” she blurted. “What are you doing Saturday night?”
He looked back, one eyebrow raised.
Sarita giggled, a salacious thrill sending a shiver down her spine.