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Stacy's Mom

Just a little light entertainment inspired by a parody video clip about a new gaming console controller. This story is closer to R-rated than XXX, so YMMV.

*****

The two-story brick house looked like it had seen better days. Things hadn't been the same since Stacy's dad walked out, thought the young man walking up the front steps. He was of average height, but well-built, with a pleasant face.



When the door opened Oliver smiled, expecting to see his friend Stacy. She was a year younger than him: years ago the two had flirted in junior high school and went on a few dates in high school, but somehow never clicked romantically. Still, they had stayed in touch, and while he was home from college on break she had called him for help with a chemistry test.

Instead of his friend, though, an older woman opened the door. Freckles dotted her smiling cheeks, and she wore her blond hair in a high ponytail. Still trim and athletic in middle age, she came to the door in yoga pants and t-shirt. A string of pearls completed her outfit, simple and elegant.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Wells. Is Stacy here?"

"I'm so sorry, honey." Stacy's mom held the door open. "It's sooo nice of you to help her, but she just called and said to tell you she's stuck at school for another hour at least."

"Oh. Um." He rocked from foot to foot indecisively.

"Helping Stacy with school must be the last thing you want to do on vacation, I bet." Mrs. Wells said sympathetically.

"No, ma'am. I'm not busy or anything." Oliver admitted.

"Well, honey, I know she does want your help; would you mind waiting a jiffy?" She brightened at his nod. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Thank you, ma'am. Some tea would be great." Oliver followed her inside where he spotted a sleek black box sitting under the TV.

"Cool." He breathed. "I didn't know you had a Zbox Two."

"Here you are, dear." Returning from the kitchen with a tall glass of sweet tea. ""Stacy didn't tell you about that?"

"Ma'am?" Oliver mumbled, taking a sip.

"It arrived last week from Bobby." She scowled at the memory of her absent husband. "I have no idea why, and he didn't even include a return address. Just this."

"Was it a present for Stacy? " Oliver bent down to look at it. He'd heard how awesome the new game console was supposed to be, but hadn't seen one in person. Along with the Zbox Two were two of the new Konect controllers that were supposed to be the hottest new thing in gaming. "Controls like you've never felt before," the box read.

"Have you played it yet?" He asked.

"Heavens no." Mrs. Wells rolled her eyes. "I've only just gotten back from a business trip. I wouldn't even know how to set it up."

"I can set it up for you if you'd like." Oliver offered hopefully, peering behind the big screen TV to find the input jacks.

"Would you please? That would be wonderful, honey." Mrs Wells smiled. "He sent a game, too. You can play it until that ungrateful daughter of mine gets home."

"What game?" Oliver asked as he unpacked the controllers. ÔControls like you've never felt before.' That's an odd slogan, he thought.

"Tennis. Probably Bobby thought he was being clever."

Many years ago she played on her college team, and playing regularly still kept her physically fit. Secretly, Oliver had always enjoyed seeing her in skimpy tennis clothes. Even now he couldn't help sneaking glances at the older woman as he connected the Zbox, and the way her yoga pants displayed the tight curves of her rear.

"All done, ma'am." He said after a while.

"Thank you, Oliver." She smiled. "I bet Stacy will be excited, too."

"Would you like to play?" He offered her one of the Konect controllers in hopes of keeping her around to look at.

"Oh, I don'tÑ"

"Please? This will be my only chance to beat you in tennis." Oliver was a swimmer; balls didn't interest him much.

"Beat me? You think you can beat me?" The older woman's competitive spirit spoke up. "Not a chance, honey. Move over."

She sat down primly beside him onto the plush sofa, legs together. Taking a control each, they went through the instructions. Partway through the game start-up, amazingly lifelike outlines of the pair appeared on the screen. A voice suddenly emerged from the Zbox.

"Confirm player identity?"

"How did it do that? How did it know who we are?" She said, surprised.

"I've read about this on the web. It has a camera, and it can scan the room to see who is playing. Isn't that incredible?"

"Confirm player identity." The voice hardened.

Mrs Wells frowned.

"They really should make it more polite."

"I think we just need to point the controller at our figure and press the A button, ma'am." Oliver said. As he did so, his outline glowed red momentarily. Mrs. Wells followed suit.

"Identity confirmed." The voice softened again.

Oliver continued with game set-up. When it asked whether they wanted to play doubles as a team or singles as opponents, Mrs. Wells arched her brows.

"Opponents. Definitely."

On the screen, a new window appeared. ÔPlayer identities compatible with special rewards mode. Use? Yes/no.'

"Special rewards... What is that?" Mrs. Wells asked.

"I'm not sure. I think that's like when we clear a level we earn something, like getting new ammunition in a shooter game." Oliver guessed.

"Ammunition?" Mrs. Wells looked dubious. She didn't object when he pressed Ôyes,' though. When he was done, two lifelike characters appeared on a digital Wimbledon centre court, with anonymous faces lining the stands.

"Practice game ready." The Zbox said.

"That's just weird." Mrs. Wells shook her head.

Unfamiliar with the controls, she fumbled her way through the first game, letting Oliver win easily. He didn't play tennis, but he knew how to play video games.

"Rewards game 1 ready." The voice said.

"No!" Mrs. Wells suddenly spoke up. "One more for practice."

"I don't think it-"

"Practice game ready." The voice agreed.

"Woah..." Oliver looked awed.

This time the game was closer. Mrs. Wells made fewer control errors, and returned more of Oliver's shots. In the end, though, Oliver's skill with the controller was still too much.

"Rewards game 1 ready." The voice repeated.

"Alright. I've got this now." Mrs. Wells told herself.

She almost did, too. Now that she had a sense of how the controller worked, her experience put her almost even with the boy's finger coordination. When it was done, she let out her breath with a gusty sigh of disappointment.

"Rewards mode active. Player 2 select reward." The voice said.

The digital court vanished, replaced by Mrs. Wells' electronic character.

"What is that that supposed to mean?" Oliver wondered. As he moved his controller, though, he discovered that he could make different parts of Mrs. Wells figure turn red. First her shirt, then her pants, then back to her shirt.

Oliver looked confused, but went ahead and pressed A anyway.

"Player 2 reward chosen. Player 1 will remove her shirt." The Zbox pronounced.

"What!" Mrs. Wells yelled, telling herself she'd misheard it.

Oliver's mouth dropped, staring at the screen, where the figure's shirt now flashed red.

"Player 1 will remove her shirt." Came the same voice.

"This is crazy!" She said, standing up. "I-"

"Sit down." The machine warned, and Mrs. Wells dropped back into the sofa, mouth hanging open.

"Player 1 will remove her shirt." The Zbox continued. Louder now, it had an edge that hadn't been there before.

"Gosh darn it, Bobby. I should have known this would be some kind of sick joke." She turned to the boy next to her. "I'm sorry, Oliver, this was-"

"Player 1 will remove her shirt." The voice grew louder still.

"I-" Mrs. Wells spun to face the TV.

Oliver watched expressions run across her face: anger, exasperation, fear, and finally settling on panic.

Without taking her eyes off the TV, she put the controller down on the sofa beside her. Taking the hem of her shirt she lifted, exposing her flat belly. A whimper escaped her lips as her hands moved unstoppably upwards. Her breasts came into view, held tight in a dark brown sports bra. Up, over her head, and her shirt ended up on the floor by her feet.

"Turn it off. Turn it off, Oliver." Mrs. Wells begged, back in control of her body.

The boy ripped his eyes away from her chest, only to hear the Zbox speak again.

"Rewards game 2 ready." It said. When Mrs. Wells character appeared on the court this time, she was shirtless, wearing only a bra and pants.

"Do something, Oliver!" Her voice rose.

His body tensed, like he was trying to rise, then sank back into the sofa.

"I-I can't!"

"Player 1 serve." The Zbox continued. A ball appeared in Mrs. Well's on-screen hand.

"No. I'm not playing anymore!" She shook her head. The ball tumbled from her digital hand.

"Serve time limit exceeded. Player 1 fault. Player 1 serve."

Still she refused to play. Once again, the ball fell to the ground.

"Serve time limit exceeded. Double fault. 0-15." The Zbox was remorseless. Another ball appeared in her hand.

Mrs. Wells' eyes expression changed. Her eyes narrowed, she set her shoulders with a grunt.

"Um, I think-" Oliver began.

"-that if I don't serve, you're going to win again. And if you win again I'll have to take something else off. I don't understand what's going on, but that is NOT going to happen!" She growled.

This time, she played like a woman possessed. Taken aback by her ferocity, Oliver fell behind early and never managed to catch up.

"Rewards mode active. Player 1 select reward."

All at once, Mrs. Wells realized what she had done.

"Um, it's okay, honey. You don't need-"

"Rewards mode active. Player 1 select reward."

"I...ah...sorry, Oliver." She tried not to look as he pulled off his shirt, but she couldn't help sneaking a glance at his chest. Not a bodybuilder's six-pack abs, but firm in all the right places. ÔDon't think like that,' she told herself.

"Rewards game 3 ready." The voice said, and this time Oliver's character only wore shorts.

"Wait. We're even now, can't we stop?" Mrs. Wells asked.

"It doesn't look like it." Oliver shook his head. His character prepared to serve.

"Wait-hey!" She yelled as Oliver took advantage of her distraction.

"15-0" The Zbox sounded satisfied.

"Cheater! That's not fair." She complained to the machine after Oliver won the match. "I wasn't-"

"Rewards mode active. Player 2 select reward." The Zbox cut her off.

"Oliver, can we talk about this." Mrs. Wells pleaded.

"Um. I have to pick something, ma'am." He replied. On screen, her character's bra and pants alternated red as he moved the controller.

"Can't we just call it a draw?"

"I...I don't think so."

"How long does a tennis game last?" Oliver asked.

"A match? Three sets." She replied, worried.

"But we've already played three. Shouldn't this be the end?"

"We've played three games. There are up to 12 games in a set, and a match is three of those."

"Oh." Oliver said in a small voice.

"Close your eyes, honey." She said as her on-screen pants turned red and stayed that color. After he turned away, she shimmied out of her yoga pants, exposing matching brown bikini panties, with just a slice of turquoise lace trim at the top.

"Rewards game 4 ready." The voice said. This time, Mrs. Wells character appeared in her underwear.

"Eyes front, young man!" She scolded as he turned towards her, but not before he took in her firm thighs and well-toned legs.

"Wow. Great legs, Mrs. Wells." He blurted out.

"Oliver Triplett!" She exclaimed, momentarily at a loss for words. "How could you say something that at a time like this?"

"Sorry, ma'am," He blushed and admitted, "but I always though you looked great in a mini-skirt."

Her eyes widened in shock, but before she could decide on a response, the Zbox interrupted.

"Serve time limit exceeded. Player 1 fault. Player 1 serve."

"Hey! Stop trying to distract me." She said with a scowl. Try as she might, though, she couldn't stop thinking about what he said. Did he really think she was hot? A 39-year old woman? She worked hard to keep up her appearance, but still. The first quiver of excitement sped through her body. Unfortunately, the distraction was too much, and she lost again.

"Darn it, Oliver." She cursed, watching his cursor move across her on-screen body. "This has to stop."

"I know, but-"

"Rewards mode active. Player 2 select reward." The Zbox cut him off.

"We don't want to play anymore." She pleaded to the box, but the machine was implacable.

"Player 2 select reward."

This time Mrs. Wells didn't bother to hide as she unsnapped her bra, and Oliver couldn't help but stare as she exposed her chest. The freckles on her face flowed down her chest and up the slopes of her small breasts, to where they peaked in pointy brown nipples.

"Don't tell me you've always wanted to see these tiny things. I know that's not true, honey." She rolled her eyes in self-depreciation.

"What?" Oliver tore his attention away from her chest before the swelling in his pants became uncomfortable. "Seriously, Mrs. Wells. Remember that summer when Mr. Wells broke his leg and he paid me to mow the lawn?"

"Yes, what about it?" Mrs. Wells asked, confused.

"Well, that time you came out in just a towel-"

"I did not!"

"It was pink. You had it tied about here." He motioned with his hand and grinned at the memory.

"I did that?" Mrs. Wells sounded dubious.

"I kept hoping that it would slip just a little bit and I could see-"

"Oliver Triplett!"

The boy shrugged. Of course he hoped it would.

"Woah, I didn't know you had a tattoo." He continued, catching sight of the small anchor tattooed next to her breast.

"I was your age, once, Buster. And we knew how to party, too." The middle-age mother's indignation momentarily got the better of her embarrassment. Then she softened. "My high-school boyfriend went into the Navy, so I got this tattoo during his first deployment."

"Wow. You've totally got it going on, Mrs. Wells." He said in awe. His own mother wouldn't be caught dead with a tattoo. She wouldn't even let him get one.

Stacy's mom smiled, suddenly more at ease showing her breasts to the boy. She knew it was wrong, but it wasn't like she had a choice, she told herself. And it is nice to be appreciated.

This time, Oliver was the distracted one. As if Mrs. Well's naked chest wasn't enough, her on-screen character was equally exposed. Every time the ball went into her court his eyes tracked her nipples instead.

"Ha!" Mrs. Wells pumped her fist as she won game five.

"Player 1 select reward." When she remembered what came next she suddenly reddened.

"It's okay, ma'am." Oliver shrugged and slipped off his shorts. He wasn't fully hard yet, but he had to adjust his boxers to keep it contained.

Mrs. Wells tried not to stare, but she couldn't help notice the motion, and the bulge it covered. A flutter of excitement ran through her.

Game six left her feeling lightheaded, as if this was all somehow a dream, and she wasn't sitting topless in her own living room with a boy, watching his thickness shift inside his boxers. Her scantily-clad game character danced across the screen, effortlessly returning Oliver's shots. The final score was almost as lopsided as their first game, but in the opposite direction.

"Player 1 select reward." The Zbox announced.

When it was done, Mrs. Wells fought the urge to click on his shorts immediately. Feigning reluctance, she turned demurely away, letting him pull off his boxers.

"It's alright, ma'am. I don't mind if you look." He said casually, settling down beside her.

'That's not fair' she thought. Was he sitting closer than before? Oh, goodness, what if their hips touched? Her chest heaved in shallow breaths as forbidden emotions ran through her body. She knew she shouldn't, but she had to look.

"Oh. My. Goodness." Mrs. Wells eyes whispered, staring at his erection. "You're not a little boy anymore."

"No, ma'am. I reckon I'm all grown up." He responded proudly.

Yes, he certainly was. She agreed silently. Good-looking, muscular, and equipped to satisfy any woman he met. Her first boyfriend had been like that. She and Johnny had made beautiful music in bed, she thought-and everywhere else, for that matter. Her crotch tingled with the memory.

She gave him a shaky smile, more nervous about what she might do than about what he might.

"Be honest with me, Oliver." She began, desperate to change the subject from how yummy he looked. "How far have you gone with my daughter?"

"Ma'am?" Oliver hesitated.

"Don't "ma'am" me, young man. I asked you a question." She tried to look stern. It was hard, though, when she wanted to stare at his privates instead. "Has my daughter seen your...you know?"

"No, ma'am." That, he could answer truthfully.

"You two haven't, you know, fooled around?"

"Well, we've kissed and stuff."

"'And stuff?'"

"You know, put our hands in each other's pants."

"So she's touched it."

"Yes, ma'am." Oliver flinched, expecting a reprimand, but Mrs. Wells fell silent, imagining her daughter's hands wrapped around it. Would they even reach?

"Can I?" Her hand twitched.

Oliver's eyes widened.

"Oh, goodness. I'm sorry, Oliver, I shouldn't have said that." She closed her eyes and blushed. "It's this game. It's just-"

"Sure, Mrs. Wells. Go ahead." It felt harder than it had ever been in his entire life. He wasn't a virgin-other girls he had dated had gone farther than Stacy-but sitting naked with Stacy's mom was driving him crazy. He shifted in his seat, aiming it in her direction.

"No, no. I can't." She told herself, shaking her head. "We need to get this game over with. Hurry and pick up your controller so we can play."

"Okay." He agreed. "But what happens if you win this time?"

"Maybe that's it!" She exclaimed, ignoring the ball in her excitement. "You don't have any more clothes to take off, so one more loss and we'll be done."

"Maybe." He said. Her idea seemed logical, but he hoped not. The last thing he wanted was for the game to end and Mrs. Wells to put her clothes on again and never let him see her naked.

The young man redoubled his efforts in game seven, forcing himself to focus on the play, not on her breasts-real or on-screen. It was a close game, but he pulled out a victory, leaving the score at 4 games to 3.

"Player 2 select reward." Her on-screen panties glowed red.

"Darn it, Oliver." She complained. "You didn't have to do that."

"Um...sorry." A sly grin belied his apology.

She stood, hands on her hips.

"Oliver Triplett, I declare! You did that on purpose so you could see me without any clothes on. What would your mother think?!" Mrs. Wells was warming to his attentions, but still wasn't ready to accept where this might lead. The proper thing to do, she thought, was to try and escape with some of her dignity intact, at least.

Oliver had the grace to look bashful, but that didn't stop him from staring as she pulled off her panties. To his disappointment, she did it sitting down, keeping her legs as close together as she could. All he could really see was a neatly trimmed bush of dark hair, framed by the tan lines from her bikini.

"Didn't your mother teach you it's not polite to stare?" She asked rhetorically. In truth, her insides were tingling, as if his gaze was beaming electricity deep into her abdomen.

"I-um." Oliver mumbled.

"Satisfied?" Mrs. Wells toyed with the idea of spreading her legs for him. Just a little. The last vestiges of her modesty won a final, rearguard action, keeping her knees together for a while longer.

"Wow..." Was all he could manage, fighting the urge to jerk off to the beautiful sight.
"You like that, huh?" Mrs. Wells purred, arching her back and posing like a model in nothing but the string of pearls around her neck. She could never have done it without the game forcing her to, but...dang, it felt good to have a man look at her like that again.

"Rewards game eight ready." The Zbox interrupted her reverie and she blushed, ashamed of how she was acting.

"Oliver?" She asked, unable to look him in the eye as she sat down.

"Ma'am?"

"After that day with the towel, did you...you know..."

"Did I what?" Oliver asked, puzzled.

"Did you think about me when you...you know."

"When I did this?" He grinned, relieved to be able to grab his erection and jerk it. "Totally. Lots of times."

"You did?" Mrs. Wells didn't know whether to be mortified or turned on, but the part of her that hadn't had a man in her bed for more than a year sure knew how to feel. It imagined him alone in his room, jerking off and calling out her name as he spurted.

"It wasn't just the towel, though." Oliver said without letting go of himself, emboldened by the way her lips were unconsciously curling into a smile.

"No?" Had he peeked at her changing? What had he seen?

"The best was when you came home from tennis without showering. I loved the way you looked all mussed and sweaty." He confessed. "I always imagined you'd look like that after you and Mr. Wells-"

"That's enough, young man." She interrupted him. Could it get any more embarrassing than that? She wondered, but she couldn't help but feel a growing warmth. It had been a long time, and Oliver was certainly attractive, and he seemed interested in her, and...she was old enough to be his mother, she told herself.

"So why haven't you and Stacy done more than kiss?" She asked, turning the subject away from herself. "I always thought you two would be a good pair."

Oliver shrugged.

"I dunno, she's not the girl for me." He looked away, suddenly bashful.

Gaah! Did he have any idea what he was doing to her? Mrs. Wells wanted to yell at him, to tell him to stop making her so hot. If he kept going who knew where this would all end.

When she won the next game, they discovered that Oliver's socks counted as a reward, too. After all that had happened, taking them off was anti-climatic. Still, when he stood and bent down to pull them off Mrs. Wells couldn't resist his firm behind.

She playfully cuffed him.

"Hey!" He yelled, spinning around.

"Oh!" Mrs. Wells froze, one hand covering her mouth in shock. Standing, his crotch was at her eye level and she couldn't help but stare.

"I-I-" She stuttered. "I'm so sorry, Oliver. I didn't mean-"

"You like it rough, don't you ma'am." He leered.

"No! I-" Memories of her adventures with Johnny belied her words.

"That's okay, you can spank me anytime." He said, sinking down beside her, close enough that their hips pressed against each other. His forearm rested on her thigh, and Mrs. Wells felt her skin burn where he touched her.

"Oliver." She whispered, arching her neck in invitation. She wanted him to kiss her more than anything else in the world right now.

"Game 11 ready." The Zbox broke the spell.

"Ah-" She gasped at the sudden letdown.

Oliver bent toward her, ignoring the game, but the moment had passed and she pushed him away.

"We need to finish this before Stacy comes home." She reminded him.

Disappointed, he nodded and turned back to the TV.

This time both of their characters were nude. Mrs. Wells thought about the anonymous faces lining the stands-what would it be like to play tennis naked? She smiled at how it would shock the oh-so-proper folks at the country club. The middle-aged woman hadn't always been such a southern lady-since marrying Bobby she'd worked hard to erase her upbringing, but inside, she was the same girl that loved skinny-dipping and riding Johnny in the back of his own truck. Inspired by the thought, Mrs. Wells played tough and won yet again.

"Player 1 select reward." The Zbox announced.

"What's left?" Oliver wondered, reassured to hear they hadn't reached the Ôgame over' point.

"I don't know." Moving her cursor, she discovered that she could highlight the two halves of Oliver's naked body on-screen-upper and lower. Tempted, but unsure she could handle what it might mean, she clicked on his torso.

"What does that-"

"Player 2 will initiate foreplay." The Zbox said clinically.

"Foreplay?" Oliver wondered. "I-"

Mrs. Wells took charge, grasping his face in both hands and pulling it to her own. Their lips met in a long kiss as his arms moved across her body. Her skin tingled as he touched her, exploring her body in languorous arcs. Her nipples felt tight and hard, waiting for his touch.

"You are so beautiful, Mrs. Wells." He whispered into her neck.

"Alex. Call me Alex."

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a boyish grin and sank lower, circling her breast with gentle movements of his lips.

"Ah-" She gasped when he took her nipples between his teeth and pulled. Not enough to hurt, just enough to send shivers through her body.

Alex clasped him close, surrendering to his attentions. It felt like his hands were everywhere at once, and her whole body responded to his touch. The pleasure from her breasts was only a bright spark amidst the slow burn that consumed her.

"Oh, dear boy." Her body moved in time with his, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the musky manhood hiding under the pool chlorine.

When his hand finally-finally!-found its way to the sensitive places between her legs, it was like putting a match to powder. A tremor swept through her body, like a wave of pleasure flowing outward from her abdomen. Oh, God, she had come from his first touch, she thought. Not earthshattering, but a jolt she hadn't experienced in too long.

Eager to repay the touch she slid her hand around to-

"Game 12 ready" The mechanical voice interrupted.

"What!?" The both yelled together, sitting up. Their eyes met and they laughed.

"Forget the game." Oliver urged.

'That was lucky,' Alex thought to herself. 'five seconds earlier and I wouldn't have-' She stopped, a sudden realization dawning. Maybe it stopped because she came. How the machine could tell she didn't know, but she didn't understand how it could do any of this.

"Game 12 ready" The Zbox repeated.

That means...that means I have to win. If I don't, then this ends as soon as he comes, and goodness knows how short that might be. Alex reasoned.

"Ooof." Oliver grunted in surprise when she pushed him away.

"We have to finish the game, Oliver. Don't worry, you'll get your chance." She reassured him. Before the game started, though, she knew what she had to do to win.

"Alright, alright." He agreed, and the two started playing. It was their tightest game yet; once to deuce, then advantage to Oliver, then a rally by Alex to wrest the advantage away from him.

"Match Point, player 1"

'Here we go.' She thought.

"Uunh!" With a Serena Williams-worthy grunt Alex thrust open her crotch as she served. Her knees spread and her rear came off the sofa, exposing herself to the boy. Just as she planned, his eyes swiveled to her crotch-not long, but just long enough. On-screen, the ball sailed untouched.

"Match to Player 1. Player 1 Select reward." Alex would have sworn she heard a satisfied note in the machine's voice. A click on Oliver's lower body and she tossed the remote away.

"Dang-" Oliver sagged back into the sofa, still not understanding what the result met.

With a fierce smile, Alex stood between him and the TV, legs slightly spread.

"I win." She said, feeling a burning sensation where his eyes locked onto the gap between her thighs. "And now it's time for my reward."

Before Oliver could respond she knelt between his knees and looked up. The boy's eyes were wide and his breathing heavy as she took his length in her hands.

"Have you ever done this before?" She asked.

Oliver only nodded, preoccupied by her nakedness, and the slow caresses of her hands.

"Then you know what to do, don't you honey." She moved closer and touched his lips with hers. Alex's skin prickled, like the feeling before a thunderstorm, and the hunger in her belly grew impatient. When their lips parted Oliver leaned forward unconsciously, following the soft warmth of her mouth.

Pulling away from him, she lay spread-eagled on the plush carpet, exposing herself to his eager gaze. From her place on the ground he loomed above her as he stood, his erection seeming to go on forever. She gloried in the thought that it was hard for her. It was proof that after all these years she was still a sexy woman.

Oliver dropped to his knees above her, kissing first one freckled breast, then the other, before nuzzling her neck. He let his fingers drift across her opening, smearing her wetness across her thighs.

"That's enough, honey, I'm plenty ready already." Alex's chest heaved with excitement.

But Oliver paused, as if only now realizing what was happening.

"This is crazy." He said wonderingly. "I mean, it's awesome. You are so hot, Mrs. Wells. I've dreamed, I mean, but-"

"That's enough." Alex placed a gentle finger on this mouth.

Oliver didn't need to be told twice, and it didn't take him long to find her entrance. Slick with her arousal, he slipped inside at once.

She bit her lip as he pushed deeper, stretching her in ways that had grown unfamiliar.

"Ohhh..." The pair exhaled in unison as he sunk to the bottom. His weight crushed her naked back against the carpet, and she arched her back to rub her crotch against his, grinding her most sensitive spots into his skin.

Their lips met as he began to thrust. Being inside her was like moving through honey: sweet and soft and syrupy.

"Oh, God. I'm actually doing Stacy's mom." He muttered to himself as he moved. "I can't believe this."

"Stacy doesn't know what she's missing." Her mom growled in response. She pulled his head down against hers, mashing their lips together.

His hips sped to match their urgent kisses, heating her insides with long, fast, strokes, and her toes curled in pleasure.

For a long time they their mouths were too occupied to talk, but their bodies spoke volumes about lust and excitement. The room filled with heavy breathing and the noise of their bodies slapping together.

"Ohh...Mrs. Wells, it feels so good. I think I'm gonna-" Oliver broke the silence first, arching his back and shivering with pleasure.

"Not yet!" She pleaded. The rubber band in her abdomen was winding tight, but it wasn't quite there yet. Just a little more-

"Oh..oh..I'm gonna-" His hips pounded into hers.

"Oh, baby...keep going...keep going...yes...like that." Alex babbled, raising her hips to meet his thrusts.

Oliver felt like he was going to explode. His gut was tight, his balls were tingling, but it just. wouldn't. happen.

"Oh, God. I-I can't come..." Oliver groaned. "I'm there. I just-I can't-I-"

"Unhh...don't stop!" Alex clung to him, fingernails leaving welts in his back. "Keep fucking me!"

Desperate to come, Oliver accelerated, pounding her hips as fast as his hips would move. Sweat dripped off his body and mingled with hers.

"Unh...Unh...oh, Oliver...Oliver...Ohhhhh!" Alex screamed as he pushed her over the edge. Her body writhed under him, spasming as she came.

"Reward condition satisfied. Game Over. Player 1 Victory." The Zbox announced, resetting the TV the game's splash screen.

"Arghh..." Oliver groaned, still thrusting into Alex's quivering body.

"Oliver...Oliver!" She complained, rolling over hard enough that he fell off.

"But-" He protested. His erection finished the sentence, still gleaming with her wetness.

"Oliver. Listen." She put out a hand to keep him off her. "The reward ends when the winner comes. That's why it ended before when you touched me down there. And I just came again, so it ended."

"But what about me?!" He demanded.

"Don't you get it? Only the winner gets a reward." She explained. Inside, she marveled at what Bobby had sent her. This could be the greatest thing to happen to womankind since the invention of the washing machine, she thought.

He grimaced.

"Oliver, honey. That was terrific. I mean you were amazing. I haven't felt that way in years!" She tried to mollify him.

"But can't we-" He complained.

"Look at the time, Oliver. Stacy is going to get home any minute. Can you just imagine if she saw us like this?" Alex said, retrieving her panties.

"Damn it." Oliver swore in frustration.

"What did you say?!" Alex whipped around, suddenly fierce, waving a finger at him. "Watch your language, young man, or I'll tell your mother."

"Or you'll tell her what?" Oliver riposted, emboldened by his unsatiated lust.

"I'll tell her..." She grabbed him by his still-hard erection and pulled his body against hers. When their lips separated she whispered, "I'll tell her what a wonderful young man she's raised."

Oliver's face softened.

"Now tell me, honey." She continued, running her hand down his chest. "Do I look like you always imagined I would, all hot and sweaty?

Oliver looked at her tenderly and felt his frustration drain away.

"Nah." He forced a grimace.

"No?" Alex's eyes widened. "No?!"

"You look way more beautiful than that." His poker face broke into a warm smile and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Awww." She melted into his embrace. "For that, dear boy, I may even let you win next time."
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