Mrs. Robinson (Mrs. Robinson #1) by Seth King

Author:Seth King [King, Seth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-11-24T00:00:00+00:00

7

Ben Bradley

I leaned forward, letting my libido take control. I was way too turned on for the whole “good boy” act Carol had told me to adopt, and Bad Ben was officially out to play. Did Carol really know how intense I could get? That my anger issues stemming from my sister’s problems and my wreck of a childhood sometimes made me push the limits of what was safe and ethical and moral? Oh well – right now, I didn’t give a fuck. All I wanted was Grace’s pussy in my mouth immediately.

Did Grace know how fucking sexy she was? She said she looked old, but to me she didn’t look a day over twenty-nine. Her dark hair swished past her shoulders and smelled like honey and flowers, and her thoughtful hazel eyes glinted so fucking sexily in the soft light. She had curves everywhere I liked them, and the light lines around her eyes and mouth actually turned me the fuck on – they showed that she’d seen things I hadn’t seen, knew things I didn’t know, experienced things I could only hope to experience…

I knew how to fool around, that was true. I was an expert, actually. But when it came to actual sex, I was kind of clueless. Miss Jill had taught me all the ways to please her without actually putting my penis in her and technically breaking the law, and lately, my schedule of working and taking care of Claire nonstop hadn’t exactly left much time for a social life and the pursuit of girls. But still, I knew how to make Mrs. Robinson come…

And as warm pre-come dripped from my dick, I said a silent prayer that hot fucking sex was one of the things she’d experienced and wanted to share with me.

“So, if you were miss Jill, I think that maybe I’d do this,” I said as I slid my hand over Mrs. Robinson’s panties. Shit, they were wet. So wet. And that turned me on so fucking much. “You’re dripping for me, Mrs. Robinson. So fucking wet. What should I do about that?”

“Play with it,” she whispered, and I rubbed my fingers softly but firmly over her wet clit.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned as she leaned back. “I love that. But do it slower. I want this to last. Ugh, I could do it all night, actually.”

“Yes, ma’am – I can’t wait to watch you come in front of me.”

I rubbed her clit over her lingerie in slow, deliberate circles, making her hitch her back and breathe in slow, ragged breaths. As I warmed her up, I looked through a back window and saw the soft glow of a swimming pool in the back courtyard. Swimming pool rich, I thought to myself, referring to the term I’d invented for the kids I’d grown up with in McLean, with their six bedroom McMansions and Olympic-sized tubs out back. Meanwhile my mom waitressed at the fancy restaurants in town and was therefore just barely able

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