I don't know if I fell for her when she bent over in a sundress with no bra
Or when she pressed a glass of lemonade into my hand and said, "You've got such soft lips. Ever use them for anything bad?"
Mrs. Landon had been my best friend's mom for years. A perfect wife in public lipstick flawless, pearls always on, smile tight as a ribbon. But beneath the surface?
She watched me.
Lingering looks.
Little touches.
I was biting her lip when I stretched by the pool.
And I started imagining things things I'd never imagined before.
Until one night, she stopped pretending.
It began with a text
Her message came at 6:17 p.m.
"Closet needs organizing. Come over. Wear something easy to take off."
My heart stopped.
Was it a joke?
Was she flirting?
Was I dreaming?
I stared at it for three minutes before texting back.
"On my way."
And I didn't even put on a bra.
The Door Opened, and So Did I
She answered in a black silk robe that slid open just enough to hint at danger.
Her lips were wine dark.
Her eyes glittered like mischief wrapped in velvet.
"Right on time," she purred, stepping back.
The air in her house smelled like jasmine and old secrets.
I stepped in, and she didn't even look back as she walked toward the living room.
Just said:
"Close the door. Strip."
The Tease Before the Storm
"Strip?"
She paused halfway through, pouring herself a glass of wine.
Turned.
"Did I stutter?"
I slipped out of my hoodie. My tank top. My jean shorts. Slowly, uncertainly. Each piece of clothing felt heavier than usual.
"Panties too."
I froze.
She raised a brow.
I obeyed.
Now I was standing in her pristine living room, naked and flushed, while she sipped her wine like it was the most casual thing in the world.
She approached.
Took a single finger and tilted my chin up.
"Pretty," she said and kissed me.
Soft.
Then rough.
Then devouring.
She Took Her Time
She led me to the couch and pressed me down like I was made to be touched.
Her hands slid down my arms, between my breasts, to my hips. Her nails scraped gently across my skin, awakening things I didn't even know I had.
She knelt between my legs.
Spread me open.
And smiled.
"No one's tasted you before, have they?"
I shook my head.
"Good."
Her tongue was warm, slow, and patient drawing out moans like she was harvesting them one by one.
She didn't rush.
Didn't stop.
Not even when I came, hips bucking, thighs trembling.
She moaned like I was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted.
And then?
She did it again.
She Brought Toys
She reached into a drawer beneath the couch and pulled out a velvet pouch.
Opened it.
Inside was a slim, curved glass toy.
She held it up.
"Have you ever had something inside you while someone whispered how good you look?"
I shook my head again.
She smirked.
"Time to change that."
She slid it in slowly, carefully, twisting her wrist just so until I was gasping and clutching at the cushions.
Then she curled over me, one hand on my throat, whispering:
"Look how your body welcomes it. Look how fucking gorgeous you are when you're wrecked."
I moaned so loud she covered my mouth.
And kept going.
The Mirror Game Begins
She finally took me upstairs.
Her bedroom was candlelit, smelling of roses and wine. In front of her bed stood a tall, antique mirror ornate gold frame, gleaming glass.
She guided me to it.
"Hands on the mirror," she ordered softly.
I obeyed.
She stood behind me. Naked now. Her breasts against my back. Her breath hot in my ear.
"You're going to watch what I do to you," she whispered.
"Every. Single. Second."
Her hand slid between my thighs again.
The toy was still inside me, warm and slick.
She fucked me with it slow at first, then faster, until my knees gave out and she had to hold me up.
I watched myself come. Mouth open. Eyes wild. Nipples flushed.
And she kissed my neck through it all, telling me:
"That's mine now. All of it."
She Made Me Beg
She turned me around and laid me on her bed.
Straddled me.
Guided my hands to her thighs.
"Touch me," she said.
I did.
Kissed her breast. Licked. Sucked.
She gasped.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me between her legs.
She tasted like power and secrets and heaven.
And when she came grinding against my mouth, moaning my name like a prayer I felt it deep in my chest.
Like I'd earned her.
Like she'd claimed me too.
The Morning After (Kind Of)
I was curled on her chest, tracing circles on her stomach when she finally spoke again.
"You're dangerous."
I smiled against her skin. "Why?"
"Because I want to do this again."
I looked up. "Then do it."
She brushed my hair back, kissed my forehead, and said:
"Tomorrow. Noon. No top. My curtains will be open. You'll know I'm watching."