Wrapped only in an oversized bath towel, her body still damp from the shower, Emily Byrnes stared at her reflection in the dressing table’s large mirror. The small clock to her left read eleven forty-five, reminding her that her guest would be arriving in little over an hour.
“I still can’t believe I let Sandra talk me into this,” Emily said to herself for perhaps the tenth time.
The truth was, the forty-six-year-old really hadn’t needed much convincing, even if she didn’t want to admit that to herself. Her thoughts again drifted to the events of a day past when she and Sandra were finishing up the workday at the Food King Market. It wasn’t the greatest of jobs, Emily knew, but after the death of her husband she had to do something to supplement the provisions he’d left her. And it wasn’t like she was qualified to do much else.
Emily had married Mark Byrnes right out of high school; in fact the wedding had taken place only a month after graduation. That was the sort of thing that happened when the bride-to-be was already three months pregnant. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Mark, or him her, it was just that things would’ve been a lot easier if they hadn’t put the cart before the horse. Still they made the best of it, welcoming first John and then a sister they named Johanna two years later.
They did a pretty good job over the next twenty-five years, seeing both kids through college, marriage and in John’s case a family of his own. Then, just as they looked to start a new life with just each other, Mark had gotten ill. Cancer the doctors had said, a nasty malignant strain that wasted no time in taking him from her. That was three years ago, and it was only in the last of those that Emily had started to live again. A good part of which she owed to the constant help of Sandra Wilkins, who had been always been there from best friend in high school, maid of honor, even if the traditional definition of maid could hardly have been further from the truth in her case, and now co-worker.
They had only another hour and a half left to their shift when Sandra suddenly went to Russell Pike, the store manager, and asked if it was alright if she left a little early as she wasn’t feeling well. It was a slow afternoon and Russell reluctantly said it was okay, but then Sandra put him on the spot when she asked if Emily could leave early as well since it had been her turn to drive.
Russell could hardly afford to have both of his cashiers leave and was quite relieved when Scott Winters, one of the stock clerks said he would be happy to drop Sandra off if he could leave now too. With little shopping being done on the rainy afternoon, Russell could easily do without one of the three clerks and said yes.
As the two of them punched out for the day and headed for Scott’s car, Emily wondered if Russell would be as considerate to any of the other cashiers who hadn’t given him a blow job at the store’s Christmas party last year. Sandra, who was twice divorced, had shared that little tidbit with her friend one night when they were sharing dinner and a bottle of wine. Russell had been in his cups that night and had confessed that his wife considered the act repugnant and wouldn’t even discuss the idea in their twenty-nine years of marriage. Sandra, who hardly needed a few drinks to lower her inhibitions, was quite willing to make up for her reluctance. All in the giving spirit of the season of course. Since then, Russell had dropped more than a few hints to Sandra that he’d like to see that celebration repeated, but so far the interest hadn’t been mutual. Still, that hadn’t prevented her from taking advantage of his desire as much as she could.
Two hours later, after finishing her full shift, Emily decided to swing around Sandra’s house to check on her. Just on the off chance that she really had been feeling ill. After parking her car in front, the short haired brunette became concerned when there was no response to the doorbell. Sandra’s car was still in the driveway so Emily felt quite justified in using her emergency key to let herself in.
It took less than a minute to ascertain that kitchen and living room that took up all of the first floor were empty and Emily quickly headed up the stairs to Sandra’s bedroom. Hopefully, she thought, she would just find her friend taking a nap.
Sandra’s bedroom, however, turned out to be empty, the bed still immaculately made. Emily’s concern became greater as she stepped back out into the hall and she was about to try her friend’s cell phone when a loud bang from the second room on the upper level startled her.
Originally husband number two’s workroom, Sandra now used it mainly for storage. Hesitantly, Emily opened the door and looked inside. It didn’t take more than a second for her to wish she’d just gone straight home.
In the center of the near empty room was one of those blow up mattresses, the kind you keep for unexpected guests. Spread out on the plain sheet that had been tossed over the mattress was a naked, and obviously quite healthy, Sandra. As least Emily assumed she was feeling much better, unless having a boy over twenty five years your junior ramming his cock in and out of your pussy was some new kind of medicinal remedy that had somehow escaped her notice.
Scott Winters had only graduated high school the previous June and couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen at most. Emily knew her friend had a quite involved sex life, but this seemed excessive even for her. Had this all been planned before they left the store, or had Sandra sprung it on him after he drove her home?
Whichever was the answer, it didn’t seem to matter as Scott loudly announced his impending climax and Sandra quickly slipped out from under him and, grabbing his cock with her hand, slid her mouth around it. It didn’t take more than a few pumping motions of her hand to catch up where she’d left off when she pushed him out of her. A loud moan spilled from Scott’s lips as he exploded into her mouth. An explosion of such force that the long haired blonde couldn’t contain it all and a stream of white ran down her chin.
It was only after she had completely drained him dry and let his now soft cock fall free that Sandra seemed to notice that they had an audience. Scott seemed genuinely embarrassed and scrambled to pick up his clothes, covering himself as best he could as he rushed past Emily into the hallway beyond. Sandra, on the other hand, seemed quite cool and collected, even pausing to call out to Scott to make sure he got dressed again before going out into the street.
The sound of the side door slamming only a few seconds later seemed to say that Scott had only partially taken her advice. Emily had already put the teenager out of her concern, focusing all of her attention on her friend, who still had made no attempt to cover herself up.
“What?” Sandra asked in an almost mock innocence as she finally walked over to a closet and took out a small robe.
“I have to ask?” Emily said.
“What’s the big deal?” Sandra countered. “It’s not like I played Mrs. Robinson and seduced him.” She paused a long moment then added, “Well at least not this time anyway.”
“This time?” Emily repeated. “How many times has this happened?”
“With Scott or with young men in general?” came Sandra’s reply, accented by a wicked smile.
“There have been others?” Emily went on, almost afraid to ask how many that entailed.
Sandra, on the other hand, had no such reservations.
“Well, it’s not like I keep notches on my bedpost,” her friend explained, “but if I had to take a quick guess, I’d say there have been a dozen or so. Of course that’s going back a few years.” she added as if that made it more acceptable.
“I think I need a drink,” was all Emily could say.
Sandra, still the epitome of calm, thought that an excellent idea and the two of them moved to the kitchen where she removed a bottom of scotch she kept in the cabinet for emergencies. It took two shots before Emily was calmed down enough to listen to what Sandra had to say.
“I don’t know what the big deal is,” Sandra said after having done most of the talking for the last few minutes. “It’s not like any of them were underage or anything like that.”
“But still, Sandra...” Emily started to say, but was cut off.
“But Sandra what?” the blonde said. “You go to any newsstand and pick up a movie magazine, you’ll find any number of stories about older women and young guys. What makes them different from me?”
That question was one Emily didn’t really have an answer for.
“I don’t know, but it just seems wrong,” she finally said.
“Why, because I’m just fucking them?” Sandra replied.
“Remember last week when we were watching the awards show,” Sandra countered, “and we saw Brooke Hudson on the red carpet.”
“You remember the young guy she was with, the one that didn’t look like he was more than twenty-one at best.”
Emily nodded again.
“Well if you also remember, we also saw her on that other award show last month,” Sandra went on, “and she also had a guy on her arms that was young enough to be her son. A different guy. Do you think she’s not fucking both of them?”
Emily was about to say but that was Hollywood, but paused as she decided that wasn’t a good enough reason.
.... There is more of this story ...