Helping Mrs. Masters

by Jason Lenov

  Helping Mrs. Masters

  A Hotwife Story

  by

  Jason Lenov

  Copyright 2017 Jason Lenov

  Thirteenth Line Publications

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, companies, organizations, products and events in this book, other than those that are clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, companies, organizations, events, or products, is purely conincidental.

  All characters depicted in this story are 18 years or older.

  Cover characters are models. Image(s) is/are licensed from:

  depositphotos.com

  If you enjoy this story, we'd love it if you spent a few minutes checking out the rest of our catalog at Thirteenth Line Join the Thirteenth Line mailing list, to get notified about our releases.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 1

  Even though I'd spent the last four years away at college, I'd never completely forgotten about Mrs. Masters. I don't think you can ever really forget about a woman like that.

  Laura Masters was our next door neighbor. Well, my parents next-door neighbor. I didn't live there any more. She was in her mid-forties, tall with long, toned legs hips that were built for making humans a tight tummy and bolted-on tits. I was pretty sure those tits were fake because they looked perky even when she was just wearing her swimsuit.

  I knew this because the Masters' had a beautiful big pool in their backyard and I'd spent many summer days leering through the blinds and watching as she sun-tanned and drank daiquiri's.

  She had curly blonde hair and blue eyes that sparkled when she smiled and a smile that could light up half of Long Island.

  As I said, I'd spent many summer days cooped up in the guest room staring at her perfectly proportioned body and wondering what it was like to be Mr. Arnold Masters who got to fuck it every time he got home from his business trips.

  So when I arrived at my parents doorstep after the nine hour bus ride from Boston and opened the door with the key they'd left under the mat, the first thing I did was go upstairs, ditch my suitcase on the floor, stick a finger in between the Venetian blinds and pull them apart.

  No banana this time. The pool looked a little dirty and the chairs were turned upside down, like they hadn't been used since the last rainfall. No sign of Mrs. Masters, either.

  I went downstairs, opened the fridge to find it bursting full with food, pulled out a coke and cracked it open. The letter from Ma was lying on the table.

  Dear Samuel, I'm so sorry that we missed you! We tried finding a later flight but it would have been something like five hundred dollars to make the change and you know the way your father is about money...

  I hope you had a nice trip down. I don't know why you insist on taking that horrible bus. You know you can always ask and I'll wire you some money for a plane ticket, just don't tell your father, alright?

  The fridge is full of food. There are some meat pies in the freezer downstairs and some pizzas, too, in case you want to have some friends over. I've put all the flowers you need to water in the front room by the piano. Are you still practising? Sometimes when I think of all the money we spent on those lessons, I worry that you're not practising your piano as much as you should be. It's good for your mind, you know?

  I've had the piano tuned, in case you want to practice, even though your father said I was wasting money getting it done. Try to use it, would you?

  Besides that I hope you have a great time. Try to do the lawn twice a week, your father doesn't like it getting too long. We'll be back three Monday's from now and we'll catch up and tell you about our trip then.

  By the way you remember Laura Masters, don't you? From next door? When she heard you were going to be house-sitting for us she asked if you wouldn't mind coming over and doing a few errands for her. Moving boxes or something about the pool. Go over and say hi, would you? I'm sure she'd love to see how you're all grown up.

  Love you, Mama Oh Ma. Mom's were all the same everywhere, weren't they? I took another sip of my coke and put the letter down on the table and started thinking about the last line. Laura Masters needed some help with some boxes, huh?

  Twenty-two's not too far from being a teenager and when you're a guy, I don't think there's ever a time where your mind doesn't immediately go to the dirtiest thing possible. Now this sounded like the beginning of a bad porn move.

  "Yeah I'm here to move those boxes you needed help with?"

  "Oh Sammy, you're so big and strong now!"

  I smirked and walked over to the kitchen window. The Masters' had a pretty high fence all around their yard that you couldn't see through but there was one spot where, if you stood in just the right place by the sink, you could see exactly what was going in their kitchen. In front of their sink, anyways. I closed one eye, which always made it easier to see, and peered through.

  And there she was. I swear my cock did a little dance as soon as I saw her. She looked like she hadn't changed a fucking bit in the last four years. That golden hair still cascaded down her shoulders. Her eyes were still sea-blue and those tits! Those beautiful, round, perky tits that made you want to clamp a claw down on them and squeeze. Damn!

  She was concentrating on something in the sink. She looked like she was scrubbing potatoes or something but those tits were rubbing against the white shirt she was wearing and making her nipples hard.

  That was the other thing. She barely ever wore a bra. It was punishing when I was younger, constantly pretending to be looking the other way.

  So, because I'm a total pervert and don't care, I pulled my cock out and started pumping one out over the sink. I stared at the dark shadow her two stiff nubs made on the white shirt. I wondered what color they were? I wondered if they were pointy and long all the time or if you had to pinch and rub them a bit to make them stiff?

  Then I thought of her pussy. She had three grown kids that were all out of the house but I wondered what a pussy that had been crawled through so many times looked like.

  I was just getting myself worked up to a pretty good froth and ready to blow one out when she seemed to finish whatever it was she was doing in the sink and look up.

  Straight at me.

  Or at least that's the way it seemed.

  There was no way to be sure whether she could see through the fence the other way as I could that way. But I swear that we locked eyes and she just stared at me for I don't know how long. It was the most awkwardly arousing moment of my life and as I stood there, frozen because I didn't dare keep rubbing if there was a chance she was looking at me, I felt a trickle of cum ooze out of my cock.

  It dribbled out and I heard the soft splatter of my own cream hitting the stainless steel of the sink. There was no orgasm to go with it, or rather it felt like there had been one but it had run away once Mrs. Masters had looked up.

  So I stood there holding my cock, helplessly spilling my seed until finally, she turned away, reached up to get something off a shelf, then stepped out of view.

  I started pumping my fist furiously, hoping I could recap
ture at least a thin tickle of the pleasure that had welled between my legs.

  No dice. The moment had passed. No matter how hard I pumped, I couldn't even get myself stiff again. So, after a few strokes I cursed, stuffed my cock back into my shorts and started trying to scrub the cum that had now coagulated into thick clumps, out of the sink.

  You ever wack off in the shower then wish you didn't when it comes time to clean up? This was twice as bad.

  Anyways, once I finally got it all cleaned off I went down to the freezer, grabbed a frozen pizza and threw it in the oven. The whole time it was cooking, twenty minutes or so, I stood there thinking about what had happened and wondering whether she'd seen me or not. I decided there was really only one way to find out. I wasn't really one to get easily embarrassed anyways. If she'd seen me, she'd seen me. So what? What was the worst that could happen?

  So, after getting a reasonable sleep, I stepped out into the sunshine the next morning and walked the few dozen feet over to the Masters front door and rang the doorbell.

  Laura Masters opened the door with that beaming smile.

  Chapter 2

  "Ho-ly shit," she whispered.

  I have to admit the cursing caught me off guard a bit. I'd known her when I was younger so she'd probably made an effort not to cuss around me. "Hey Mrs. Masters," I said with a wave and the kind of smile I probably hadn't smiled in four or five years. The kind of smile boys get right before they look down and kick the dirt with their foot because they're kind of shy and not sure if they said the right thing.

  Come on Sam. You're a man now. Get over it.

  "Sammy, I swear that if I hadn't seen you walk over from next door through the window, I wouldn't have recognized you. What the hell happened to you? Did you spend the last four years at the gym?!?"

  That knocked me even more off balance and I chuckled a bit to hide my embarrassment at the fact that she reached out past the door and wrapped her fingers around my bicep to give it a squeeze. "Uh..." I muttered. What the hell do you say? What the hell do you say to something like that?

  "Come in! Come in!" she said, possibly realizing what an awkward situation she'd put me in. She stepped aside and waved me in. "What can I get you? Water? A soda? Oh God," she muttered, shaking her head and pressing her fingers to her forehead. "What the fuck am I talking about? You're a grown man. Come on. Let's get a beer."

  I was just about to turn around and tell her ten in the morning was a little early for me when she turned around and started walking towards the kitchen.

  Boom! That beautiful wide ass started swaying side to side in slow motion, covered with nothing more than the tiny white shorts she was wearing and maybe a little pink thong wedged in between her cheeks.

  Time slowed down as I stared at her swinging booty, all kinds of dirty running through my head as I imagined what it would be like to get my hands on that caboose.

  Maybe a beer wouldn't be so bad after all. I followed her into the kitchen and a few moments later we were standing looking out onto the backyard, beers in hand.

  "Thanks for coming over, Sammy," she said, looking up at me and smiling.

  Once again it was quite a struggle not to keep glancing down the loose shirt she was wearing, hoping to get a glimpse of her perky nipples. "No problem, Mrs. Masters."

  She looked up and scrunched her nose and gave me a kind of funny look. "You know, you're all grown up now, Sammy. You can call me Laura."

  "Oh," I said, chuckling quietly. "Sure. Sure thing. Laura." Her name felt strange in my mouth. Sort of like I shouldn't be saying it. Like I should keep calling her Mrs. Masters instead.

  "Anyway, I wanted to see if you'd be interested in doing some work around the house for me? Your mom said that you probably wouldn't have too much to do while you were here. How was college anyways? What did you major in again?" she asked.

  "Computer science," I replied. "Yeah, I've really got nothing going on for the next three weeks. I'd be happy to help."

  "Oh computer science! So you're a hacker." She sort of whispered the word with a sly smile like it was some kind of inside joke.

  "Uh, no. Not really. Mostly finance software."

  "Oh," she replied, like that answer didn't make sense, didn't fit the image she had of computer guys.

  I didn't mention the sweet gig I had lined up in a small country in the Caribbean starting in the fall. There was nothing glamorous about finance software but the money was sweet.

  "Well in any case, if you're not too busy would you be interested in helping me out?"

  "Oh sure!" I replied, almost too hastily. "I'd love to help out!"

  She seemed a little confused by my enthusiasm but by this point I already had half a buzz on and couldn't care less what she thought. A few days hanging around the Masters house sneaking glances at Mrs. Masters fine rack sounded like a great way to kill some time.

  "Wonderful," she said, pointing out towards the yard. "First thing's the pool. Arnold's been calling our pool boy every other day and he's just not getting back to us! I know it's a busy time but you'd think if he wanted to keep clients happy...well, doesn't matter. Would you mind terribly giving it a clean? If it's not something you want to do I completely understand. I just thought..."

  The booze gave me enough courage to put a hand on her arm. "Mrs. Masters," I said, staring down into those deep, blue eyes. "Like I said, I totally don't mind. It'll give me something to do. It'll be fun."

  The moment lingered for longer than I'd planned. My heart skipped a beat as we held each other's gaze for what was just a touch too long.

  Too much courage, I guess.

  A pulse of adrenaline rushed through me as I realized how long I'd been staring into her eyes and I looked away as a blush heated my cheeks.

  Get it together, Sam.

  But a funny thing happened. I felt her hand on my arm this time. I turned around. She was still looking up at me. Her expression was...curious. I couldn't quite place it but it looked relaxed and sort of interested at the same time. "Sam?" she asked.

  I swallowed loudly, blushing even harder as the sound of it filled the kitchen. "Yes?" I managed to whisper.

  "Please. Call me Laura."

  Then she squeezed my arm, smiled, slid open the sliding glass door and stepped outside.

  I didn't get all that embarrassed until I realized how hard I'd gotten. My cock was like a fucking column trying to burst through the fabric of the shorts I was wearing. I started panicking at how I was going to hide it from her. I squeezed my ass cheeks, hoping the blood would work its way into a bigger muscle. I even did a couple of quick squats before stepping outside. That took care of about half the problem.

  "The pool supplies are in this shed," Laura called out from across the yard. She stepped into the dark shadow inside the shed and started rummaging around.

  And what did my pervert brain do? Instead of trying to talk my cock down further, I started thinking of what it would be like to follow her into that shed, bend her over and give her a good seeing to.

  Which is when I remembered. She was married.

  "So I think this is all the stuff you'll need," she said, stepping out with a bucket and a long pole. She looked up and smiled, then set the things down on the concrete deck by the pool.

  I couldn't tell if her eyes had lingered on the shape between my legs or not but I turned around to face the house, pretending like I was admiring the place. "So uh, where is Mr. Masters anyways?" I asked, hoping a change of topic to her husband might cure me of my horniness.

  "Oh, you know him, always away."

  "Still hitting the road, huh?" I'd overheard many a conversation when I was younger about Mr. Masters life as a travelling salesman and how it was going to ruin the Masters marriage.

  "Yeah," Laura replied but something about her tone told me she didn't want to talk about it any more.

  I turned around just as she tried to brush past me without falling into the pool. We did an awkward little dance, the kind people do when ne
ither one knows where the other is going. In the confusion, I sort of stepped towards her at the same moment as she was trying to step away and that's when it happened.

  There could be no mistaking it. She had touched it hard enough that I knew there was no way she could have missed it. The back of her hand brushed against the hard head of my cock as she stepped away.

  My cheeks started burning a bright red again as I desperately tried to look anywhere but at her. She wasn't moving which I thought made things doubly awkward and so I stood there looking around in circles at the ground until there was just nowhere else to look and I knew I had to look up and face the music.

  I was just about to start babbling, hoping that I might come up with a weird excuse for why the hell I had a hard on when our eyes met.

  One corner of her mouth was curled up and she had the calmest expression on her face, like what had just happened was no big deal at all and I was just being a wierdo for shaming myself about it.

  She smiled. "When you're done," she said, "why don't you come inside and I'll get another cold one out of the fridge for you."

  And then she looked at my cock.

  Yup.

  Just went right on ahead and gave it a big ole' stare before turning around and swaying that ass up the concrete steps and into the house.

  I stood there for a while. I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to be humiliated or horny or both. I could have sworn she had just gazed at my cock, then looked back up at me to let me know what she'd felt and seen. But that would have just been too good to be true, right? A porn come true. Things like that didn't happen in real life.

  Right?!?

  So I got to work cleaning out the pool and balancing the ph and all that. After I was finished I put the tools away in the shed and I was just about to go back into the house when who should open the sliding glass door but Laura.