My senior year at college started disastrously. The Housing Office messed up and assigned me as roommates to a student who was destined to become either a ruthless corporate CEO, or a convict — he hadn’t yet committed to a major.
Don sold weed and pills out of our dorm room, organized huge keg parties, and juggled three girlfriends, seldom pausing for classes. Several nights a week I’d come “home,” find the door locked with a sock on the handle, and need another place to sleep.
One night I got back to the room before he did to study for a test the next day. He showed up around 8pm with girlfriend No. 2, Shelly. She conveniently went to the Ladies Room down the hall so he could ask me to sleep someplace else. I refused.
“Screw you” he said, “She’s staying here tonight anyway.”
Mine was the top of the two bunk beds. I laid there for hours hearing them fuck, the whole bed shaking as he pounded her. It was like trying to hold on in a lifeboat during a storm while listening to a porn soundtrack.
By the next morning I had blue balls — and had had enough of my roommate. I decided to move out. With all the dorm rooms filled by that point, off campus housing was my only option.
I checked out the bulletin board in the student center, where rooms were advertised, got a fistful of quarters, and started calling to set up appointments to check out the options.
The second place I visited seemed perfect. A speech pathologist and her husband rented out a bedroom on the second floor of their attached duplex in a quiet neighborhood near campus. The house was tidy, and they interviewed me when I showed up with a few basic questions — if I had a job, smoked, could pay two months’ rent in advance. I signed the rental agreement on the spot and set up a move-in time.
As Mrs. Stolzfus walked me to the front door she offered the usual pleasantries — “The rent is due on the first of each month. You can use the kitchen, and washer and dryer if you are tidy” — that kind of stuff, until we reached the front door.
“And here are your house keys, front and back doors.” She held up a pair of keys on a simple key chain. As I reached out for them she pulled her hand back.
“Oh, did I mention our daughter, Leslie — she lives here too.”
She gestured with the keys to a picture on the bookcase, a young woman in a high school graduation gown, skinny, big smile, long frizzy blonde hair, braces. “We’ve got big plans for her. She’s at Penn State.” Penn was at the opposite end of the State, hundreds of miles away.
I looked at her with one of those placeholder smiles — you know, waiting to understand the point.
Her mother continued. “What did you say your major was? Some liberal arts thing? That’s so sweet. We’re planning on a pre-med student for Leslie. Maybe pre-law. Either would make a good husband for her.” Mom looked at me with a tight smile that didn’t disguise the steely look in her eyes. She said nothing more, waiting for what seemed like a long, uncomfortable pause while I thought about this.
Then it dawned on me. This was a polite way of saying “stay the heck away from our daughter.”
Now, as obnoxious as that might have seemed, it really wasn’t.
The duplex house was small with one bathroom. The bedrooms were all on the second floor. It wasn’t as tight as a dorm, but close. And Mom — well, being a mother who grew up in the 50’s – wanted her daughter to ascend to a life of luxury as a doctor or lawyer’s wife.
Made sense. Didn’t take a brick building to fall on me.
“She’s very pretty Mrs. Stolzfus, and must get her looks from you.” The opportunity for suck-up flattery with my landlady wasn’t lost on me, even at that age. “I’m sure she’ll meet a nice pre-med major.”
Mom’s smile relaxed. “I think you’ll work out just fine here. You probably won’t run into her anyway — she’ll only be back during school breaks.” And with that she handed me the house keys and held the door open for me.
By that point I was working part time and trying to finish up my classes, and the semesters passed quickly. Sometimes on the weekend I’d share dinner with the Stolzfuses, but it didn’t happen that often with my schedule.
And as far as their off-limits daughter? Mom didn’t need to worry. Leslie came home over the Thanksgiving break, and at Christmas, but otherwise wasn’t around.
Besides, when I first saw her picture — and told her mother how pretty she was — I was lying. She wasn’t my type — skinny, flat chested, fly-away hair, a few zits, big nose, and an attitude to match.
From what I could gather her hunt for a pre-med student wasn’t going that well. She spent the breaks at home either on the phone, or out with her high school friends, so we rarely talked.
I’d sometimes see her in the hallway as she went from her bedroom to the bathroom in her underwear in a flimsy nightgown, or oversized t-shirt. I confess that I’d sometimes jerk off thinking about her — more to relieve my perpetual 20 year-old horniness than casino siteleri because of any interest in her, although at that age it didn’t take much to get me going.
By the week of graduation my schedule was winding down — classes were over, finals had been completed, and I had quit my part time job. I had a free week to kill before I left for grad school across the country, so I spent the time trying to relax, and prepping for my move West.
It was that Saturday that Mr. Stolzfus asked if I’d like to join them for dinner. “Since you’ll be leaving next week we thought we could get a pizza and thank you for being such a model tenant.” I didn’t have a car, was always low on cash, and heck, free pizza was…free pizza.
“Sure, that would be great.” It turned out that Leslie wouldn’t be home until the following weekend, something about a potential boyfriend in State College she was flirting with, or something, so it was just the three of us.
Dinner was really casual — sweats and socks. Mr. Stolzfus set out the pizza and dinner plates, and we chatted. Charles was a life insurance salesman, and this was his second marriage — Leslie was his step daughter.
I politely asked questions about his work, but half of what he told me was incomprehensible, and the other half was as boring as watching paint dry. He didn’t seem to have any hobbies or outside interests, and when I asked him what he did for fun, he said simply “watch TV and relax.”
Mrs. Stolzfus — Jo – ran the house. In fact, it was her house before Charles moved in, a house which she was awarded in her divorce.
“My first husband never really understood me” she said, “but he gave me a lovely daughter and this house, and besides, I learned how to marry right the second time.” In addition to her day job as a speech pathologist for the local school district, she was a part time, amateur actress at the local playhouse in town. Trying to be sociable, I asked her questions about her acting – which was the cue that she seemed to have been waiting for, all actresses being extroverts.
“I’d love to show you one of my plays — we have them all taped. Let’s clean up the kitchen.”
We put a few things away in the kitchen and moved into the den in the back of the house. Charles took the big Laz-e-Boy, and Jo and I sat on the couch. “This is from last summer” she said — “I was in Equus. Have you ever seen the play? It’s a psychological drama, almost a thriller.”
Seriously? I could count the plays I’d seen on one hand, and that included stuff I’d seen as a little kid, like Peter Pan. This sounded like it was going to be tedious — sorry, “deep,” a good euphemism for ‘boring’.
Charles turned the lights down, passed me the popcorn, hit the “Play” button on the VCR, and the image rolled up on the screen. This was going to be worse than I thought — and my expectations were already low.
The play had been taped from a camera on a tripod in the back of the theatre, with the same grainy quality as a public access cable TV station.
The first Act seemed to go on forever, and I had trouble following it. Something about a kid working in a stable, some fixation with horses, and his psychiatrist. To be honest, I didn’t care enough to follow it — I’d be leaving in a couple of days, and I figured this was the price I was paying for the “free” pizza.
Nothing is ever really free.
The tape omitted the intermission, and so the play seemed to flow from Act I into Act II with barely a pause. “Jo’s part is coming up” Charles said as Scene I, Act II unfolded, opening in a stable. The main character — the troubled young man with a horse problem — was being seduced by a female stable hand. Jo was playing the part of the stable-hand seductress.
The lights onstage were dim, and Jo was sitting on the stable floor, naked from the waist up, a blanket in her lap, as she tried to coax horsey-boy to get frisky with her. Between the poor quality of the taping, the dim light, and distance of the camera from the stage you couldn’t see much, but I could definitely tell it was my landlady, sitting half naked on the stage, even as she sat next to me munching popcorn.
When I thought that neither Jo or Charles was looking I glanced sideways at her to look at her breasts. Yup, pretty sure those were hers up there on the screen.
The play ended and the screen faded to black. The only sound in the room was Charles munching on popcorn. Jo turned to me. “So? Did you like it? What did you think?”
I lied, but only some. “Yeah, I really liked it, and you were great.” The first part not true, the second part true.
Naked women, like pizza, are always great.
“You know” Charles said, “Jo had to fight for that part. The Director said it was written for a younger woman and she was too old. He wanted someone half her age — but they couldn’t find anyone in this town with the courage to do it. Anyway, I don’t think she’s too old for that part. What do you think Bob?”
I was momentarily güvenilir casino speechless, caught off guard by the question, and then Jo piped up. “You know Charles, that tape is so poor, let’s see my part again.”
“Sure Hon.” He wiped popcorn butter off his fingers and fumbled for the remote, hit slow-rewind, scrolled back through the tape until the start of Act II, and hit “play” again. There was Jo again, half naked, performing her lines. I watched more carefully this time while trying not to strain my eyes, even more aware that she was sitting right next to me.
I thought I saw her nipples.
The scene ended with the lights on stage going out. Charles stopped the tape. “So, what did you think? You think Jo was too old for that part?”
“No, not at all, she was really good.”
That’s when she stood up. “You are a sweet boy, but the truth is you can hardly see me on that lousy tape. It was much better in person in the theatre.”
With that she pushed her thick terry bathrobe off her shoulders, pulled her arms out of the sleeves, and let the bathrobe hang from her waist, the thick knotted sash the only thing holding it up. She had no bra on and stood there before me, just as if she had been on stage, half naked.
“Do I make a believable seductress?” She turned half away from me, flung her hair a bit, and let it fall over her one eye as she looked at me. The only sound I could hear besides my own breathing was her husband munching on popcorn like he was a horse with a feed bag. I could also tell I was getting hard in my sweat pants. No underwear. Tricky. I was wondering how I’d make it up to my room to jerk off without being embarrassed.
“Wow, yes, very believable, Ms. Stolzfus, I mean, you look great, really, really great.”
“Call me Jo. Are you sure?” She took a step closer to me, as he continued to munch, and turned to face me directly.
She was now brushing up against my knees and her breasts were eye level, barely two feet away from my face. She seemed to be enjoying this, a big smile on her face, her nipples — if not exactly hard — were small buds. I could feel my cock getting harder and harder, and that familiar throbbing feeling as if I was twitching with every heartbeat.
“Yes, oh yes, I’m very sure. You look…really wonderful.”
“By the time a woman reaches my age, Bob, we know that men can lie. But I don’t think you are lying…your lie detector is working just fine. Charles” — she addressed her husband without looking at him — “I think he’s telling the truth.”
And with that she put her hand on my knee over my sweatpants, moved her fingers up my leg like the itsy-bitsy spider in a children’s rhyme, and then traced the outline of my cock through the cotton fabric as she stared at me.
“I am telling the truth” was all I could think to say.
Thinking was becoming a bit of a chore.
“So you found it believable when I was on stage seducing the horse lover?” She was now stroking me outside my pants, up and down, as she looked into my eyes.
“Oh god yeah.”
“You know why I like acting? It is so liberating. I can be whoever I want to be. A powerful seductress.”
I felt her hand on my waistband as she reached inside my sweatpants, and then reached down inside my pants until she found my cock and wrapped her hand around me.
It occurred to me that her husband had stopped eating popcorn, as I didn’t hear him chewing anymore, but she had my full attention.
With her other hand she pulled the sash on her robe. It untied and the robe fell from her waist. She was naked, stroking me inside my pants, and then bent over to bring her face closer to mine. As she moved closer her heavy breasts swung gently over my thighs and in a husky voice she said “Touch my breasts.”
I looked over at Charles. His hand was down his pants and he was touching himself as he watched us.
“You don’t need to worry about Charles, he’s wanted to see this since you moved in with us. Second husbands are the best — you can correct everything that was wrong the first time. Right Charles?”
I heard a sort of choking “yes Dear” come from his mouth, and then felt her fingers on my chin as she gently turned my head to look back at her.
She said it again. “Feel my breasts.”
I reached up to cup her and could feel her hard nipples against the palms of my hands. I supported her breasts gently, like I was trying to guess their weight by hefting them.
“Harder” she whispered. I wasn’t sure what she wanted or how hard, and cupped her a bit more — her breasts were so soft and full that I wanted to hold them forever.
“Like this” she said. She put her free hand over mine and moved my fingers to pinch her nipple, hard, until she groaned. “Like that, do it again.” I started pinching her nipples, first one, then the other, then both at the same time, and she hissed
“Yes, like that, again.”
She turned her head to the side in her pleasure, and saw her husband, stroking. “Charles, for canlı casino god sake, pull your pants down, and don’t you dare cum until I tell you.”
“Yes Dear.” Having never seen another man masturbate I watched, curious. He picked his butt up off the recliner as he had been told, pushed down his pants, and resumed stroking. His cock was so small I could barely see it in his hand.
“And let’s get a better look at you” she said. She knelt down on her bathrobe and pulled my sweats down, freeing my aching cock, so swollen I thought I would burst.
“Very nice” she said, “and tasty, too, I bet.” She moved her head forward, looking at me until the angle made it difficult, and then took me into her wet, warm mouth.
I could hear Charles on the couch almost whimpering, the sound of his cock against his hand as he whacked away, and for a moment I thought I was going to cum. I shut my eyes tightly and took a deep breath, and the moment passed.
She began to lick, suck, and stroke me, as if she were trying to devour me, fondling my balls, until I finally had to groan out loud. She looked up. “How well do you think I’m playing the role of seductress?”
“Yeah, good, really, really good,” and almost involuntarily I put my hands on her head and nudged her face down towards that swollen mushroom head, moving my hips up to meet her mouth. She licked me a few times — that crazy spot under the head — and I pumped my hips up as if I were trying to fuck her mouth, not even really sure what I was doing — it was just reflexive.
Feeling me trying to pump in her face she pulled my cock out of her mouth — it was glistening, like her lips — and she looked into my eyes again. “I know what you want and need. Put it in me.”
She turned around and kneeled on her bathrobe, her ass in the air, and pulled her ass cheeks apart. “Put it in me, right there. And Charles don’t you dare come. Stop touching yourself and just watch.”
He may have whimpered again, but I wasn’t paying that much attention. I ripped off the sweats around my ankles, got on my knees, and rubbed my shining, swollen, throbbing mushroom up and down her puffy pussy lips. She pushed back and I sunk into her, feeling her tight, wet warmth all around my cock — she was so tight it almost seemed like we’d have to stop, but she kept pushing back. “I knew that C-section would pay off” she said, and I had no idea what she meant until later, when I asked her in the afterglow.
I could say that I fucked her, but she really fucked me, like the seductress she wanted to be. “Put your hands on my hips” she said, “and pull me back.” After a couple of thrusts we found our rhythm, her ass slapping against me, her cries rising with each thrust. “Harder!” and then “Fuck me, fuck fuck fuck me…” and then, as she was close to coming, to her husband. “God Charles, his cock is in me, he’s filling me up and stretching me so much better than you, you’re going to eat his cum from my pussy!” and then she came, her pussy clamping down on my cock as if she were trying to wring the cum from my balls.
That was it — I pulled her back on my cock and spurted in her like I was filling up a jar, spasming over and over and over, grunting like weightlifter, and then fell forward on her when my balls were finally empty, the two of us in a tangle on her bathrobe and my cock still inside her.
I wrapped my arms around her from behind, cupping her breasts against her chest, and could feel her heart pounding. I was still hard between her legs, between the lips of her sweet pussy. Although she was still catching her breath, her voice was strong. “Charles, get over here and lick me.”
“Yes Dear.” He pulled off his pants from around his ankles, rose from the chair, and kneeled down just below us. I wasn’t sure what was happening — I moved back, my cock popped out of her pussy, and almost hit him in the face. She spread her legs and he moved up to plant his mouth on her dripping, cum-matted lips. She reached down with a free hand and pressed his face against her crotch, “that’s it, get in there and clean it up, we both know you love it…make me cum again Charles, and jerk your little cock.”
He did as ordered and burrowed deeper. I could feel his body moving against her in time with his cock stroking. She offered me her breasts to suck as her husband licked her, and said to me, with a smile, “he’s jerking his little cock.”
I looked down and sure enough his hand was a blur as he ate her pussy. She was grinding back at his face, her excitement building. “Faster Charles, I’m close” and she began to nearly shriek, clearly loving his tongue on her sloppy, slippery, swollen, cum-dripping pussy.
I felt her arch her back and she grabbed my head and pulled me in for a kiss, jamming her mouth against mine, her tongue pushing into my mouth as she came and I then heard him cum, his sound muted between her legs, a small grunt as he shot his load on her calf and bathrobe on the floor.
We lay there in a heap, our hearts pounding, sticky, breathing hard — and speaking of hard, I was still hard — the benefit of youth.
She kissed me again, this time tenderly and reached down between my legs to fondle me and seemed surprised. “Oh my, let’s put this to good use again. Charles, move over.”