Jefferson Mason’s widow seen with boy young enough to be her son.
Yep, that was me. Cradle robber extraordinaire. Just call me Mrs. Robinson.
Tray slid into the booth in front of me. He picked up a menu and peered over the top at me.
“Everything okay?” he inquired.
Slowly I took a look around the diner and when my eyes met his, I asked, “Don’t you see? Can’t you hear them?”
Leaning in, he asked, “See what?” He looked all around and said, “I don’t hear anything. What am I missing?”
Maybe I was imagining it. I guess it was possible that they weren’t all whispering about me, but not really plausible. I knew they all talked about me. I’d heard it at the grocery store, feed store, church, and even in this very diner. Why wouldn’t I think they were talking about me now?
“Never mind. I’m probably being paranoid. Ignore me,” I muttered just as the waitress made her way to our table.
She was a young thing and she couldn’t take her eyes off of Tray. He was definitely worth looking at. Damn, he made my mouth water, I couldn’t imagine what he’d do to a girl his own age. Well, I didn’t have to imagine it, all I had to do was look up at the waitress. She was practically batting her eyelashes at him. Twisting her long ponytail and slowly running her tongue over her bottom lip. She wanted him and he acted like he couldn’t care less. What the hell was wrong with him? She was flirting and he was reading the menu, only looking up at her when he placed his order for a double bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and a large coke.
The waitress cleared her throat before she asked, “Did you want something, ma’am?”
Ma’am?
I fucking hated being called ma’am. That was the epitome of old lady. I was only forty years old. I wasn’t anywhere near old yet.
“Hon,” I murmured in my most sarcastic tone. “I’ll take the same. But make my drink a diet coke.” I sat up straight and stuck out my big breasts. I’d show her who the ma’am was. “And thank you so much.”
Tray’s eyes were glued to my breasts when I turned back around. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. That really wasn’t for him; I just wanted to show the little waitress that I still had it. Maybe I really did. Tray seemed to like what he was seeing.
“Mental note: never refer to Mrs. Mason as ma’am. Unless I want to see her breasts more clearly,” Tray chuckled.
I smirked and shook my head. “So tell me a little about yourself, Tray. Like why we’ve never met before. If you and Jason are best friends, how come I didn’t know of you until now?”
Pulling his eyes up from my chest, his gaze caught mine. Looking a little confused, he asked, “You don’t remember, do you?”
I was racking my brain, but I didn’t know what he was talking about. As far as I knew, we’d never met. “I’m sorry. Remember what?”
“You don’t remember us meeting?” he asked.
“We hadn’t met before you got here,” I stated.
“At your husband’s funeral. Jason had me take you home after the service.” He ran his fingers through his hair and turned his head. “You were pretty upset. I just figured you remembered me. Makes total sense that you wouldn’t though.”
“Sorry. I was a total wreck that day. I don’t remember much about that whole week actually.”
“Don’t worry about it. We can get to know each other now. And this way Jason can’t tell you a bunch of crap about me,” he laughed.
“Crap, huh?” I asked.
“Ya you know, crap. The stuff that two guys know about each other and love to share with others just to make the other guy look bad – crap.”
We both laughed as our waitress set our drinks down in front of us. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I made sure yours was a diet.”
Bitch.
“And I’ll make sure your tip is on a diet too,” I mumbled under my breath.
“I’ll start us off. My name is Traydon Michael Thompson. I’m eighteen years old. I attend Walker University with some no good buddy of mine named Jason. I’m a glutton for punishment, obviously because I came to work my ass off on a farm for the summer. Oh, and I killed my dad. I think that’s about it. Now tell me about you.”
What the hell was that?
“What did you say?” I asked.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have called Jason no good. He’s actually an awesome friend.”
“I think we both know that’s not what I was referring to,” I chastised as I crossed my arms under my breasts.
“Oh, the part about killing my dad? Is that what you were referring to?” he asked, fidgeting with his straw wrapper.
“Yeah, why don’t you tell me a little more about that? If you want to.”
“Well, here’s the story. My dad was an asshole. His favorite pastime was beating the hell out of me and my mom. One night I came home from a party. Actually it was the same party where I met Jason for the first time. Anyway, I was sixteen and I came home and found him on top of my mom. He had her pinned to the floor and he was raping her. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed one of his bowling trophies off of the mantle and hit him over the head with it.” All life left his eyes at that moment. The twinkle of a young man’s heart was replaced with the darkness of a man who did what he had to do to protect his mom. “It wasn’t like I meant for it to happen. It just did. The cops ruled it self-defense, because it was. My mom was in the hospital for a week and I was placed in a facility for a week to monitor my ‘mental faculties’, or at least that’s what the doctor kept telling me.”
“Wow, Tray. That’s….wow.”
“I’ve scared a lot of people off with that story, but I think it’s better to just spit it out instead of keeping it all in, ya know? People can get scared of me or act like I’m some crazed murderer. I don’t really care anymore. It was something that happened. Did I plan to go home that night and kill my dad? Hell no. But he was hurting my mom and he had to be stopped. What’s done is done and I’ve moved on from it. I had to before he took me down with him.”
The waitress picked that moment to bring us our food. Tray grabbed an onion ring and popped the whole thing into his mouth.
“Holy hell! These things are hot as hell, but they’re damn tasty.” He took a big drink of his coke and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Did I scare you, Mrs. Mason?”
“No Tray. You didn’t scare me at all. It’s too bad that you have to live with that memory every day of your life. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I survived. My mom survived. We are where we always wanted to be – free. He was a bad man and sometimes they get exactly what they deserve. I did the whole ‘I hate myself. I’m a horrible guy.’ thing. It didn’t do anything but make me a nutcase. My mom needed me and I needed to grow up and be a man. Jason had a lot to do with that. He helped me through all of that shit. That’s a big part of why I’m here right now. I’d do anything for him.”
“You’re not a horrible guy, Tray.” I reached over and put my hand on his. He dropped his onion ring and squeezed my hand in his. “It sounds to me like you’re a very good man who knew he needed to take care of his mom and did just that. I’m sure she was proud of you for doing what had to be done.”
“At first she wasn’t, but now we are back to where we were before. My mom and I against the world,” he smiled a little lopsided smile.
I pulled my hand away and smiled, “You better get to eating that burger. It ain’t gonna eat itself, now, is it?”
“Whatever you say, Mrs. Mason,” he replied. “Your turn.”
“My turn for what?” I asked.
“Tell me about yourself. Whittle your life story down to a couple of sentences for me like I did for you.” Taking a big bite of his burger, his voice was muffled when he said, “It’s really not that hard to do.”
“Okay. Here goes. When I was a little girl I dreamed of being Miss America. My mom entered me in every pageant she could, until I lost. When I got second place for Miss T
exas when I was eighteen my mom gave up on me. I wasn’t a winner anymore. She couldn’t stand having a daughter who wasn’t a winner. So we haven’t spoken since that pageant. I tried college and hated it. I tried working in an office and hated it. I kinda bounced around until I met Jefferson. I fell head over heels for him and we got married. I planned on him being my happily ever after, and instead I only got five years with him. He died. I inherited his farm jointly with Jason, of course. The employees all see me as the stupid blonde who took away their beloved Jefferson and they treat me like shit. My stepson cares so much for me that he sends his friend here for the summer and doesn’t even bother to tell me that he has a serious girlfriend. I’m a forty-year old widow with no future. I’m destined to live out the rest of my life the same way I’ve lived the past year – sad and alone.”
“Goddamn, woman!”
“What?”
“You’re depressing as hell. That shit has got to stop. How about we make a little deal?”
“A deal? That sounds interesting.”
“Here goes. I’ll make sure you have some fun this summer and you can make sure that Gabe doesn’t kill my ass. Because there is a good possibility that he will try. That dude hates me.”
“The plan sounds solid, except for the fact that I have no control over Gabe. The man hates me with a passion.”
“We already have so much in common. We are bound to be good friends, Mrs. Mason.”
“Why must you call me that?”
“It’s your name.”
“My name is AnaBelle. Mrs. Mason is what my employees call me.”
“It’s a respect thing I guess. Or maybe it’s just hot to call you that, Mrs. Mason,” he said with a mischievous grin on his face.
We finished our lunch while talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. We talked movies, books, school, girls, boys, you name it we talked about it. I’d forgotten how nice it was to have someone to talk to. It’d been awhile since anyone cared what I thought about something. We had an entire conversation about the new action movie that was coming out next week. We realized we were both really excited about it.
I gave the waitress my debit card to pay for lunch and Tray grabbed my hand. “You don’t have to buy my lunch. I’m not looking for a free ride this summer. I’ll pay my own way.”
“You will not. I will buy you lunch whenever I want to. Gabe is gonna work your ass off. Lunch is the least I can do to make up for it.”
He released my hand and said, “This time. I’ll get the check next time.”
“We shall see,” I responded with a smile.
Shower Time
Tray
The next couple of weeks kicked my ass. I’d been getting up early and going for a run with Mrs. Mason every morning. She was fast and I had a hell of a time keeping up with her, but I enjoyed running. I’d loved it in high school and she was making me remember why. It got me out of my head for a while. It gave me some time to think about nothing. Time to just clear my head and breathe. And it didn’t hurt that I could lag behind and stare at her ass the entire time. That part didn’t hurt anything at all.
I was tired and dirty and all I could think about was getting inside, taking off my nasty ass clothes, and taking a burning hot shower to get all of the cow shit off of me. I was quickly realizing that everyone was right about me – I was a pansy ass. This country shit was for the fucking birds. After this summer, I didn’t give a damn if I ever saw another farm again.
I stopped off in my room and grabbed some basketball shorts and a towel, before heading upstairs to the bathroom. Jason’s old room just had a toilet and a sink, so I had to go upstairs to take a shower.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I ran all the way. Dirty, filthy, and nasty were words I liked being used to describe me, but not when cow shit was involved. As I reached the top of the stairs I noticed the door to the bathroom was almost closed. Not completely, it was opened just a crack. Just enough for me to see what was going on in the big claw foot bathtub that sat in the middle of the huge bathroom.
Mrs. Mason’s moans were echoing through the room. Her leg was bent and resting on the edge of the tub. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail and her eyes were shut. She was biting her lip as the sexiest fucking moans were coming out of her mouth. I could barely see her right arm moving under the water. She was touching herself, and by the sounds of it she was getting damn close to making herself come. Her head was thrown back and her back arched. Perfectly round breasts, soaking wet were peeking up out of the water and her nipples were so hard. All I could think about was wrapping my tongue around them. My cock was stirring in my dirty jeans. He definitely liked what he was seeing and hearing.
God damn…the things I wanted to do to that woman. She shouldn’t have to touch herself, I’d fuck her. And I would enjoy every damn minute of it. She deserved a real man, not her fucking fingers.
My cock was standing at attention, so I decided to give it a little attention. I knew there wasn’t anyone else in the house and she was more than a little preoccupied. I unzipped my jeans and pulled them off real quick. Standing in the doorway with my jeans in a pile by the door and my hand wrapped firmly around my cock, I began to stroke. Her moans were filling up the whole damn room and making me so fucking hard I couldn’t see straight. My eyes were glued to her face. Her eyes were still closed and her head thrown back. When she licked her lips I just about lost it. I was breathing really fast and stroking my dick even faster. I was gonna come out in the hallway watching my best friend’s stepmom finger fuck herself. Well, wasn’t this just every young dude’s fantasy? Hello, Mrs. Robinson.
Mrs. Mason was so fucking hot. All I could think about as I jacked off was how amazing she would feel when my cock slammed inside her. How tight her pussy would be. The way her lips would taste. That was all it took. I shot my load into my hand and tried to be quiet so she wouldn’t see me and think I was a pervert. She was still touching herself and then it happened. The most glorious sight I’d ever seen in my eighteen years on this planet…Mrs. Mason arched her back up out of the water and I could see her hand buried in her pussy. She was riding it for all it was worth and then she screamed out, “Fuck!” She came violently. I could see her stomach quivering and her chest heaving. There was sweat beaded up on her forehead and her face was turning the sexiest shade of pink.
Before she could catch me, I grabbed my jeans using them to wipe the cum off my hand. I carried them downstairs to my room and waited until I heard the door to her room shut before I ran back upstairs and jumped into the shower. It felt so good to get all of the shit washed off of me and felt even better to know I was standing in the tub where she just had one hell of an orgasm.
One thing was clear, this was going to be a really long summer.
AnaBelle
I never thought it would come to this. Me, masturbating in the bathtub fantasizing about my stepson’s best friend.
What the hell had I turned into? A creepy old woman, that’s what.
I was going to be the old cat lady living on the farm all alone – old and gray with no hope for a future. Yep, that was me. Then I was going to go straight to hell for these impure thoughts.
The worst part about it was, I hadn’t been able to make myself come since, well, since before the accident. I hadn’t even thought about touching myself in months. And when I slipped into the warm bathwater and thoughts of Tray made their way into my mind, I couldn’t stop myself. My hand involuntarily went straight to my nether regions and damn if the thought of him didn’t turn me on. Just thinking about it was making me wet again.
I heard the shower come on and knew that he was in there. Naked - washing himself - touching himself.
Was he thinking about me?
Was he feeling what I was feeling?
I didn’t know what scared me the most, thinking he was feeling the same things or thinking he wasn’t.
I was all settled warm and toasty in bed when I heard a knock on the door.
Then Tray said, “Fun time. Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen.”
Climbing out of bed, I grabbed my shorts and slipped them on under my old t-shirt I was sleeping in. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I realized that you could clearly see my nipples under my shirt, so I pulled the shirt off and put my bra on. After a quick inspection when I got my shirt back on, I headed downstairs.
When I walked into the kitchen it looked like an ice cream shop had exploded on the bar. Tray was standing on the other side of the bar with an ice cream scoop in one hand and a bowl in the other.
“Time for ice cream,” he announced when he saw me come around the corner.
“What’d you do, buy out the entire grocery store?” I asked.
“Well, there are vital components that are necessary when making a Tray Thompson approved ice cream sundae. Vital.” He looked serious as all get out. Not even an inkling of a smile on his face.
I parked my behind on a barstool and took the bowl and scoop from his hands. “Okay. Teach me how to make a Tray Thompson approved ice cream sundae.”
“I thought you’d never ask, Mrs. Mason,” he said with a grin on his face. “First you start with plain old vanilla ice cream. None of that fancy ass French vanilla crap.” He took the scoop from me and dug into the big pail of ice cream. Once he got the second huge scoop in my bowl, he said, “Always start with two scoops. You can add more if needed, but you have to have at least two to start with.”
“That’s a lot of ice cream.”
“Nah. You can handle it. I know inside that skinny girl there’s a chubby girl crying for some ice cream. Let’s hook her up.” He smiled and continued, “Next we move onto the sauces. I am partial to caramel, but I feel like there has to be that perfect little shot of chocolate in there too.”
While he was squirting the sauce into my bowl he got a little on his finger. He slid his finger into his mouth and sucked the sauce off and it was the most sexual thing I’d seen in a long time. That simple act of him sucking chocolate sauce off of his finger was making me horny as hell.
Forbidden Fruit: Volume 1 Page 3
