Jason stood in the shower, masturbating. I didn’t understandwhy he didn’t want sex anymore, but okay, we’d been married for eighteen years, we weren’t the first couple to turn out this way. But why wouldn’t he at least masturbate while we were in bed? Wouldn’t it be better to come on my pussy or my boobs or my face than on a porcelain tub? How could he not prefer a hand job from his wife?

I watched from the bedroom. The exhaust fan still rattled a little. In the lightly fogged mirror, I saw Jason angle the handheld shower head so it sprayed his balls while his other hand pumped enthusiastically. Soap foamed on his hard cock. He removed his hand and focused the water on the end of his dick, which bounced in a pulsing rhythm. He threw his head back and his stomach out and I knew he was coming, although the spurts mingled invisibly with the spray. I walked away while he finished ejaculating. I had laundry to fold.

This all happened just a few months ago, not years ago like my previous stories. Since that day with Gina in 1997, I’d had a son, Chad, who just turned sixteen this November. Yes, that the same name as one of my students from back when. Maybe I’ll explain that someday. But this isn’t about Chad.

Sex didn’t preoccupy me that day, filled as it was with the usual household demands. Chad was out on some kind of group date. I finished doing the dishes, closed the dishwasher and stood, stretching my arms wide. Above the sink, my reflection in the night-darkened window mocked me. I still looked pretty good for forty, but I wasn’t thirty anymore. I removed my glasses and squinted at my image. I put the glasses back on and unbuttoned my blouse, baring my boobs. They were small, but they felt firm under my wet fingers. I watched myself tease a nipple until it hardened.

A glass of wine suddenly seemed a good idea. I walked out the side door, intending to go to the garage just the other side of a short walkway, where a second refrigerator held beer, white wine and extra sodas. Crickets chirped in the warm August night.

I glimpsed movement in the dark backyard and walked toward it. A friend of my son’s stood staring at the kitchen window, his pants around his ankles and his hard cock in his motionless hand. He had apparently paused in mid-masturbate, waiting for me to return to the window.

I covered half the distance to where he stood before he noticed me. He reached down for his pants and began to pull them up as he started to run, tripping over himself in the process. Before he could scramble back up, I stood over him, one foot either side of his hips. His pants and underwear were still below his knees.

“So,” I said, “you like to look? Or what?”

My blouse was still unbuttoned. He looked me in the crotch, not in the eye.

“It’s not like that, Mrs. Shepherd. Well, it’s sort of like that. I mean, you know, you are totally hot. But mostly I was thinking that you were watching me.”

“But I can’t see you when I look out of a bright room.”

“Well, I thought of that, but I was, you know, pretending. And when you took off your glasses and leaned forward to look out the window, well, you know, maybe you really could see me.”

“And that got you hard. Helped you masturbate,” I offered, teasing him.

He nodded.

“And now? Do you want me to watch you for real?”

He nodded faster and smiled for the first time, a grin that changed his face from average to cute.

I took a step back so I could see him more easily and pulled my blouse all the way open. His eyes on my boobs, he reached down and began pulling at his cock. It hardened quickly.

“How old are you, um, what’s your name?” I asked. My tongue licked my upper lip.

“I’m Mike and I’m sixteen, Mrs. Shepherd.”

“For a sixteen year old, you’ve got a very nice cock, Mike.”

I suddenly wanted that cock inside me. If I couldn’t have Jason’s, why not Mike’s? I rubbed my pussy through my shorts.

“You like me watching you masturbate, huh?” I taunted him. “I’m enjoying it too, seeing how long and thick you are, with a big, fat head on your cock. Have you ever put that in a girl’s cunt, Mike? Have you ever come inside a woman?”

He shook his head, No, and stroked himself a little faster. I decided to help him, or maybe it was for me – I unzipped my shorts and pulled them down, along with my panties. With my legs apart, they stopped just above my knees. My pussy was almost bald, with a small patch of fur above my slit. I pushed a finger inside myself for Mike to enjoy. My cunt clenched and I felt a drop of liquid slide down my thigh. With a slick finger, I rubbed my clitty.

“Are you going to come for me, Mike? Do you like me masturbating with you? Staring at your big cock? Your smooth balls? I want to see you come, honey, come for me.”

With two fingers, I rubbed myself slowly. I didn’t even try to come. Mike’s hand was moving fast and had moved up his shaft against that plump cock head. His tummy twitched and he aimed his cock at my cunt. A long stream splashed my thigh and dripped into my panties. The next big burst splattered my shorts. Come continued to flow as he pumped. It trickled over his hand.

I held out my cunt-wet hand and he grabbed it with come-soaked fingers. Mike stood and before he got his pants all the way up, I reached out and tugged at his cock. I wrapped my fingers around it, thick and slickery. A large drop of come popped out of the tip. I touched his balls. I shook my head at myself.

“That was fun, Mike. What’s your email? Maybe we can do this again.”

“Text me,” he said and he told me his number.

I pulled up my shorts, feeling the damp from his come and thinking about stains. Mike walked away in the darkness. I stood for a minute, alone, feeling the humid air and smelling the grass. I repeated his phone number to myself, over and over.

By the time I climbed into bed, having dealt with my clothes and taken a quick shower (and written down the number), Jason was just finishing a recorded TV show. Five minutes later, the TV was off and the lights were out. I reached out to touch his hip and accidentally touched his cock. He turned away.

“Look, honey,” I said, “I don’t understand, but I get that you don’t want to have sex anymore. I feel bad about it and I know you don’t want to talk about it and I love you, but I’m, I don’t know, too young to give up sex.”

“Not tonight,” he said. And with that, he curled into his sleeping position, facing the other way. Less than a minute later, he was snoring softly. It took me an hour to fall asleep.

The next morning, I texted Mike. In vague, cautious words I asked if he could find a quiet place to meet. The alternative would have been to pick him up and drive somewhere or just do it in the car, whatever it was. Hotels cost too much and made no sense for a quick tryst with cougar prey. I visualized a secluded, shaded clearing in the woods, and a stream would have been nice, although I couldn’t think of any less than half an hour away. Four hours later I met him near downtown on the doorstep of a well-maintained house, one of the older ones in town, from the 1920’s.

“You live here?” I asked. “Let’s go in.” I was nervous being so close to busy streets.

“Nah, it’s my girlfriend’s, but her parents and brother are out of town and she’s at a mall or something. I know where they hide the key.” He held it up, then used it to open the door.

“How long until she’s back?”

He shrugged. “At least two hours. I think she’s getting her nails done, too.”

I stifled my concerns, deciding we’d better keep this quick. We stepped into a wood-floored foyer that opened to the living room. The house smelled clean in an air freshener sort of way. As soon as Mike closed the door, I pressed my boobs up against him. I reached down and fingered his cock and balls through the fabric of his shorts.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Mike” I said, my mouth next to his ear, “but I’m going to make you come.” I was reliving my days as a teacher.

“We have to take our shoes off,” he said, his voice squeaky. “House rule.” He pointed at a small sign on the floor that said, “Mahalo for taking off your shoes.”

I took hold of Mike’s belt and tugged him toward the sofa, with its thick, textured white cushions, and decided it was too small. I didn’t know exactly what we were going to do, but I didn’t want to make a mess. I pulled him to the open floor near the fireplace, unbuckled his belt and opened his shorts so my hand could slide inside easily. I fondled him and shook with a sudden shiver from the air conditioned cold and not because I was being a tiny bit unfaithful. His cock felt good along my wrist. My fingers massaged his balls.

“Take off my blouse,” I told him.

He undid the buttons and I let go of his cock to toss my blouse to the floor and shrug off my bra. His face brightened, eyes wide. Encouraged, I pulled off my jeans and stood before him wearing only carefully chosen panties, pink with lace.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, a compliment I hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Get your clothes off,” I ordered, surprised at the tightness in my throat.

I lay down on the shaggy gray carpet. I’d meant to tell him to leave his underwear on, but he pulled it off with his shorts. He stood over me, naked, our positions reversed from the previous night.

He stroked his cock.

Mike had strong legs and a teenager’s thin chest and shoulders, with hints of muscle definition. His face had picked up some tan over the summer, but what stood out were his green eyes and long lashes. Maybe his nose was a little too big, but I predicted a lot of women would lose themselves in his bedroom eyes.

“You just want to masturbate?” I asked. “To come on me? Does your girlfriend help you come? Do you jack off on her?”

Mike stared and pumped – I hoped he wasn’t planning to just come and run. I slid a finger along my panties and felt my wetness through the silk.

“No,” he finally replied, “Kaitlin is some kind of virgin. She doesn’t do anything. She’s not like you, Mrs. Shepherd. You are so beautiful.”

I heard a shout from upstairs, “That’s not true!”

Bare feet thumped down the stairs and a girl who could only be Kaitlin stood a few feet away, glowering.

“You liar!” she shouted. “You . . . “

She put her hand to her mouth and took a step back.

“Hi, Kaitlin,” I said brightly. “This is a little embarrassing. Thanks for letting us use your home.”

I could feel my heart pounding. No one was doing anything terribly wrong, but it wouldn’t look good on Facebook, either.

Mike stepped toward her and said, “Wait a minute. It’s not what you think. Why aren’t you at the mall?”

“Get that thing away from me!” she said, pointing at his cock. “Of course it’s what I think, you asshole. Him, not you, Mrs. Shepherd, sorry.”

“You’re supposed to be at the mall,” he whined.

“I knew you were up to something. You never call to ask where everyone is or how long I’ll be gone. I thought you were maybe going to surprise me with flowers or something because you missed my birthday.”

I could dress quickly and escape, but that would solve nothing and I’d have fucked up their relationship. And I had been so close to some kind of sex. I had a sort of What Would Gina Do moment.

“Kaitlin,” I said gently but firmly, looking her right in the eyes, patting the carpet beside me, “you sit here and tell me why he’s a liar. Mike, you sit here, on my right, and listen. Kaitlin, happy birthday. How old are you?”

“Can I put on my clothes?” he asked.

“Sixteen,” she said. “And he forgot!”

“Just put on your underwear,” I told Mike, “and sit. Now.”

I sat up, too, and took a hand from each in mine. Kaitlin’s chin jutted at Mike and she stared hard at him. She had soft, brown puppy eyes that contained hints of Asian. Her nose was very small and much too cute. Kaitlin looked angry without looking fierce.

“Go ahead, Kaitlin. What do you mean he’s a liar? Why does it matter?”

“Well,” she said, now looking only at me, “it matters because lying is wrong. And because it wasn’t easy for me to let him touch me like that. And because I thought he was nice and that he liked me.”

“Okay,” I said, neutrally. “What do you two do?”

“He got on top of me, between my legs with that thing – she pointed at his cock – and he kept going until he had an orgasm.”

“He raped you?” I asked, appalled.

“Well, no, we had our clothes on. He came in his pants.”

I tried not to smile. “But you didn’t want him to?”

“Well, yes, I did, I knew it made him happy and I didn’t want him going to someone else, like you, I guess, although I was thinking about Hayley mostly, and I liked the idea of it, and . . . I don’t know. That’s all, I guess.”

I tried to remember what it was like to be a virginal sixteen year old girl. The lust and longing remained vivid, the confusion and heartache had blurred into the background. Mostly.

“Is that right, Mike? What she said about you dry humping her, coming in your pants?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He was obviously embarrassed.

“You wanted more, didn’t you, Kaitlin,” I speculated. “But you didn’t know how to get more without getting too much.”

“I’m not sure,” she said.

Now who’s lying, I thought.

I let go of Mike’s hand and reached over for his crotch. Kaitlin flinched and I squeezed her hand tightly. I rubbed Mike’s cock through his underwear. No one made a sound. His hard-again cock bulged against the white cotton Jockeys.

“Kaitlin,” I began, “you probably had some sort of talk with your mom and you should pay attention to whatever she said. Guys get crazy when it comes to their cocks. Look at how hard Mike’s is!”

“I’m not . . .“ Mike began.

“Quiet, Mike. Kaitlin and I are talking.”

I stroked the length of his hard shaft. I didn’t say crazy was a bad thing.

“Oh, look, Kaitlin, see that wet spot in his underwear, there at the end?”

“Yes,” she said in a hushed voice.

“That’s pre-come. It means he’s excited. I’m sure this happened when you guys did what you did, even if you couldn’t see it.”

She leaned closer. I don’t think she noticed her shoulder-length hair brushing my nipple, but I certainly did.

“Ask him if you can touch it, Kaitlin. He won’t say no.”

I moved my hand to her back and traced her shoulder blades and the lines of her bra straps, while she outlined his cock with one finger, hesitating on the wet spot before continuing down to his balls and back up the front. He jerked when she approached the tip.

“Rub right there,” I said, taking her finger and moving it where I knew he was most sensitive. It was like helping a child finger paint. We rubbed him together.

The wet spot got bigger and she grinned, pleased with herself.

“Let’s see what’s going on inside those Jockey’s, Kaitlin. Mike, take those off. You must be uncomfortable.”

Kaitlin leaned away from his exposed hard-on. Another drop of pre-come already gleamed at the tip. I remembered why I was here and lowered my head to suck the drop, shouldering Kaitlin out of the way.

“Hey!” she said.

My mouth opened and engulfed his cock. God, it had been so long since I’d had Jason’s dick in my mouth. I felt Mike’s cock touch the back of my throat and I relaxed so I wouldn’t gag. My hand held him firmly. My head bobbed up and down. I made happy humming noises.

“Hey!” Kaitlin said, louder. “He’s with me, remember?”

“You want to suck his cock?” I paused to ask. “We can’t just tease the poor boy.”

“Totally,” she said, with a glimmer of fear in her eyes.

“Okay, then, get your clothes off, too.” I said assertively.

“Why do I . . .?” she asked.

“Because I said so,” I interrupted. More gently, I added, “Trust me.”

She stood and turned away shyly as she disrobed. With one arm across breasts about the same size as mine, but rounder, and her knees held primly together, she knelt on the carpet and took his cock into her mouth.

I scooched around behind her and pulled her calves apart. She made a...