Nancy and Lance: (The Time of Lance)
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2009 by mattwatt

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Nancy Sweet, lonely, unfulfilled widow happens to see a friend of her son's hitchhiking and picks him up. Thus begins a new chapter in her life devoted to doing the bidding of this young man, beginning with being stripped naked, as she drives them both toward home. (See my blog about this.)

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Romantic   Incest   Mother   Son   BDSM   MaleDom   Spanking   Rough   Light Bond   Torture   Gang Bang   Group Sex   Interracial   Black Male   White Female   Oral Sex   Size  

The dusk was slowly crowding around the car as Nancy Sweet made a slow progress homeward. She asked herself, for the thousandth time, why she ever got herself mixed up with this group with its incessant meetings. And the pain of it was that they were meetings that she needed to attend in order to be able to function in the local group at home, which she did particularly enjoy.

She'd found that, with Derrick gone she'd had too much time on her hands. She did work but Wayne had left her, when he died, well enough off that she didn't really need to.

"The place nearly ran itself these days," she thought. "A good testimony to Wayne's energy and simply forward thinking."

But once Wayne had died, Derrick was Nancy's focus, and now he was off to college, a fact that was increasingly hard for her to swallow. And she was left alone. Alone in the big house, alone with her thoughts, and her moods.

Wayne had been sick for a long time; or so it seemed, before he died. And for an equally long time, Nancy had fulfilled the role of care giver instead of wife and lover.

At times the loneliness almost smothered her. What is more, the loneliness pushed her farther and farther into her own world of fantasy. A world that she always recognized, from the time that she was a girl up to now but which she had always kept at bay.

But her private thoughts at night were populated with those fantasies, as she searched the internet for photos, or, more importantly, stories of women being taken advantage of, stories of women, older women--always older women, 'like myself, ' she'd say frequently, but older women who gave in to their fantasies to be submissive. But normally it was submissive to someone younger or even just young.

These thoughts and desires confused her at times but she never tried to deny that they were there. And she saw herself as a kind of ghost in chat rooms, and story sites. In chat rooms where she could encourage young men or even teens to order her around and talk dirty to her. Those kinds of contacts had become the focal point of many days, and nights for Nancy.

There were, of course, steps that she had not yet taken. She hadn't started chatting with the video camera; she was just afraid of how much she'd humiliate herself then. She hadn't allowed herself to get into phone sex for the very same reason. But those possibilities, looming out there, were certainly constant temptations.

Nancy was wound these days really tightly!

But she was going home now. The meeting had been boring. There was always the hype about the organization and all that. There was always a significant number of things that they were told that they should take home to the local organization. It seemed to be the same kind of stuff every single time, and Nancy had gotten to the point where she just hated to go.

But she was conscientious to the organization; she'd given her word to do these kinds of things, at least for a while, and she'd do them too. She was that kind of person.

She had also decided a while ago that she needed something to keep her interest, to keep her focused. She carried, in essence, a special secret to these outings that occurred all too often. She simply allowed herself to wear underwear, bras and panties, that were salacious, sexy, down right slutty. She loved it, and looked forward to picking out her 'outfits' for the meetings.

Nancy was tall, 5'9", and not slight by any stretch of the imagination. She had short brown hair, and weighed in at about 130 lbs. She thought she had an ass that was too large, but Wayne had always insisted that her ass was one of her best features, and it was balanced by her 36c breasts, which made her, in fact stunning.

As the time went on after Wayne's death, Nancy tried to constantly weigh the offers for dinner etc against her fear that someone might be trying to go out with her from an interest in her money. That combined with her devotion to Derrick had kind of closed her up and led her farther into her sweet fantasies.

She was certainly wound tight.

But now she was on her way home, and, unknown to herself at the time, she was about to be unwound.

For today's foray into the world of organizational hype and clammer, Nancy had worn a conservative, yet chic, gray suit. The skirt was about two inches from the knee and sported a row of ivory like buttons up the side to the waist. The suite jacket had open lapels, which were fairly wide apart, too wide to cover the inevitable show of her large tits, Nancy had worn a long and colorful silk scarf that was tastefully tucked into the front of the suit jacket.

But underneath it all she had a pair of red thong panties on. The thong had a simple red string that came up the back of them, and fitted neatly into the crack of her ass. It did little or nothing to hide Nancy's pussy hair. She didn't believe in shaving her pussy. She like the curls to force their way out beneath the edges of her panties' front patch. The very thought of this warmed her.

It was almost a disappointment to her to not be showing any vpl. She liked vpl very much.

Every time that she moved she was reminded by that red string running up between her ass cheeks that it was there and in the process, during the day, her pussy was constantly wet. She looked forward to rewarding her self for the conference with a long session with her fingers in her pussy that night.

The bra was a small thing that had red material that covered her rather large nipples and not much more. The bra and panties lent an air of decadence that Nancy clung to, and promoted for herself. She knew that sooner or later she'd let someone into her secret but she also knew that it had to be the right person.

She knew herself well enough to know that she was not really looking for romance.

"Hell," she thought, "I'm looking to be dominated. Don't win my heart with flowers and a good dinner out. Order me to take my fucking clothes off and I'm yours."

The thought caused Nancy to laugh out loud at her own coarseness.

She had been passing some houses now; they were way out here in the distance from town. At least one of them must have been hosing a party, due to the cars around and the din from the place.

She smiled at the thought of invading and seeking 'her destiny, ' which she melodramatically called her fantasy, but knew she was 'too old'. At 38, she knew she'd be a 'granny' to this group. She smiled and kept on going.

A mile or so from that spot she passed a kid hitch hiking. It only dawned on her, as she rolled past that it was a friend of Derrick's. She hit her brakes and brought her Lexus to a stop. Then she backed up a way to get closer to where he was.

The kid ran to where she'd stopped to wait for him. She knew who it was then. Lance Raines. A good friend of Derrick but a few years younger, maybe, she would guess 16 or 17. He was handsome and sure of himself, and always gave Nancy a kind of flutter due to his sometime outrageous flattery.

He got into the car, and said right away:

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the sweetest of the Sweets; what a treat to see you."

"Lance," she said fairly brightly, "What the heck brings you way out here tonight?"

She thought a moment and then said quickly: "Oh, I bet that party!"

"Not only lovely," he said grinning at her, "But also smart; what a woman!"

"Lance," she said with mock severity, "Just cut the ... the you know what, and tell me what you're doing out here."

"Now, now, lovely Mrs. S, you're beginning to make Mommie sounds here."

She was a bit abashed at that, and added:

"Gee, I guess I am; I'm sorry, Lance, I just was a little concerned. You're one of mine, you know."

"Well that's great to know," he said back to her, "Are there privileges attached? Do I get to kiss Mommie goodnight!"

Nancy laughed: "You are certainly tonic for a girl's ego; I'll say that about you, you outrageous thing."

"Seriously, Mrs. S, yes, I went to the party, and it was awash with drugs, and I just didn't want to stay."

"Lucky for you that I came along, when I did!" she said back to him.

"Are you kidding? Looking the way you do tonight, lucky is hardly the word for it!"

She laughed again, and said: "Are you always this way with all the Mothers? Or am I a special target?"

"Hmm," he mused, "Nice choice of words; do you feel like a target, Mrs. S?"

Nancy blushed then. Finally, she answered:

"Well maybe that's a figure of speech; but answer my question."

"Okay, Mrs. S," he said right back to her, "I'll answer yours if you answer mine. You first."

"I don't know," she admitted, "It's just that you pay me such outrageous attention."

"Yeah," he answered, "But look at you: you're young, you're beautiful and you're stacked!"

"Lance!" she said with surprise.

His answer was to laugh: "I guess people don't usually tell you that you're stacked."

She was smiling now, hopefully to herself but smiling nevertheless.

"Well, no they don't."

"And do you mind?" he pressed her, "Does it make you feel bad."

She reached out to him and stroked his cheek.

"No, sweetie, it doesn't make me feel bad, and I don't really mind. It's just that compliments like that are so few and far between these days."

"You're blushing!" he said, "I like that."

"Geez," she said with mock exasperation, "You know everything."

He laughed then: "Mrs, S, no, I don't ; not yet at least."

"You're incorrigible," was her next answer to him.

"Ah," he answered, "You're getting to know me a bit."

"Yes," she returned, "And is seems that you're getting to know me a bit too."

"To answer your question, no, I'm not this way with all women; just the special ones."

"I see," she said but continued to think about what he'd said.

Then he broke in with:

"Hey, how's Derrick the mad man doing?"

"He's fabulous," she said with great joy, "He loves the university."

"Cool," he answered, "But you must be lonely in that big house."

"Well," she admitted, "It is that."

"But where have you been," he wanted to know then, "That you're all dolled up?"

"Oh," she answered with some exasperation, "I was at one of those f ... damn meetings that I go to."

"Wait a minute," he said then with a bit of authority in his voice. "That's the second time that you've corrected yourself in the middle of a sentence. "Chill out; just say what you were going to say."

"Do I have to?" she wanted to know then.

"Yes, you do," he answered.

"Okay, bossy," she answered, but they both noticed the fact that she was going to do what she was told to do. "I was at one of those fucking meetings that I go to."

"Better," he said triumphantly, "Much better. But how do you stand those?"

She just giggled then. It was involuntary but she giggled.

"Okay," he said then, almost ordering her now, "Pull over."

She glanced at him quickly with surprise but did as she was told; she pulled over.

"There's a secret here and we're not going to have these secrets, are we?"

She sat and looked at him; she was conflicted. She really felt that she should do what she was told here. That repressed, rebellious but cosseted part of her was starting to make its presence felt.

"We're not?" she said in a small voice.

"No, we're not; so go ahead and tell me, we'll both be better off, when you do."

"It's just..." she began and hesitated.

He asked gently then: "It's just what, sweet Mrs. Sweet?"

"Oh, it's silly," she said back to him, "It's just that if I tell you a secret like that I don't want to become a laughing stock and have everyone telling dirty stories about me."

She was surprised that she'd even told him that much. But there was something compelling about him, and she felt as though she was beginning to unwind, and let her fantasy self out. She clamped down on that thought immediately.

"Do you really think that I'd go running to tell the guys like some kid?" he asked with a bit of exasperation.

"Well, no, I guess, not, Lance; I'm sorry for that implication. I'm just flustered, and shouldn't have said that."

There was a moment's silence. Then she took a deep breath and plunged ahead:

"It's my underwear!" she said looking away from him.

"Aha, I thought so; but don't you look away, woman!" he demanded.

Her head ratcheted immediately back toward him. She was blushing furiously.

"You go ahead and blush, Mrs. S, but you blush toward me. You were saying something about your underwear."

"Yes," she said fairly meekly, "I wear outrageous underwear to these meetings. It makes me feel good and defiant at the same time. I'm at a boring, boring, hyped meeting and underneath my suit I'm dressed like a ... you know."

"Stop that!" he demanded, "Someone has to take you in hand to make you relax a bit; say what you were going to say."

"Yes, Lance," she said meekly again, "Underneath my suit I'm dressed like a whore."

"Hmmm, makes you feel good, eh?" he wanted to know, pressing her.

"Yes, it does," she admitted.

"Dirve," he said.

She pulled out then back onto the road, and there was silence for a bit.

"See," she said at last, "That's why I didn't want to tell you my outrageous secret; now you're disappointed."

"Disappointed, Mrs. S? Not a bit," he asserted, "Maybe I was just thinking here about turning this into a 'tell and show'."

Nancy involuntarily squealed; the car swerved a bit.

"Hey, pay attention," he said severely.

"Sorry, Lance," she said. "But you do know that I'm old enough..."

To prevent her from finishing that obvious sentence, he reached over and put his hand over her mouth.

Without even thinking, her tongue snaked out and licked the underside of his fingers.

"My, my!" he said.

She was abashed: "Lance, I'm so sorry; I don't know what came over me at all. I don't normally do that kind of thing. That was gross."

"Hey, calm down, Mrs. S," he said assuringly, "Besides it was a kind of involuntary reaction. It only really counts if you do it twice."

After he'd said that, he put his hand over her mouth again. She took it as a kind of challenge from him, and snaked her tongue out again to lick the underside of his fingers across her mouth.

"I see," he said grinning now. "You are a bad girl."

She sighed: "Lance, you just bring out the worst in me."

"Well that's the nicest thing that anyone has said to me today, Mrs. S."

They both laughed then. And he continued in a different tone of voice:

"And no more shit about your age; understand?"

She turned her head to him and said, before she thought: "Yes, sir."

"My, my," he said again. "Mrs. S you are definitely coming out here."

"Oh, Lance, I'm tired, and I'm bored, and the meeting wasn't worth the time or even dressing up for it."

"Was it worth dressing like a whore under your clothes for, Mrs. S?"

She hesitated then.

"Talk to me or I get rough," he said with severity.

"Ohh," she said in a voice of concern: "Not while I'm driving."

"Then talk."

"Well, I don't know;" she began, "But I think it's always worth dressing that way."

"What way?" he wanted to know.

She glanced at him briefly, and noticed the determined look on his face. She said to him then:

"You're not going to let me get away with this, are you?"

"Of course not, Mrs. S; you see, the advantage is to me right now."

"Yes, you're right, and I'm confused," she admitted.

"Now there is no reason to be confused; just do as your told, woman," he said, and plainly meant it.

After all the build up and the conversation, this demand from him hit Nancy Sweet squarely.

"Yes, I will," she thought, clearly understanding the implication of her thought.

She smiled at him, after a minute, and said:

"Sorry, I was wool gathering then."

"Thinking about?" he prompted.

"Well, thinking about the fact that I should do that more often, I mean just do what I'm told; that is a comfortable thought for me, exciting even."

"Ah, at last," he said. "Good girl."

He patted her arm as he said that and Nancy Sweet got a jolt of almost electricity from his touch. It unsettled her for a second.

"Then finish your last sentence, like I told you," he said next.

"I mean that it's always worth it to dress like a whore under my clothes; I simply like it."

She hesitated for a few seconds, while he waited, and she said: "See, now I'm blushing."

"About what?" he wanted to know.

"Oh, about saying that I've dressed like a whore; it's the word you know."

"Ah, yes, the word; but, Mrs. S, you're not a whore are you? Someone who has sex and gets paid for it?"

He put his hand over onto her shoulder as he asked her that.

She wasn't outraged in her answer, she simply said to him, as she watched her driving: "No, I'm not that."

He laughed a regularly dirty laugh then, and said back to her: "Then maybe I should sell you to some of my friends."

She looked at him and squeaked, and blushed again.

"Hey," he laughed, "That thought turns you on."

She looked over at him briefly then, and said to him: "Oh, Lance, I wish you wouldn't play with me this way; it gets me riled up and then..." her voice trailed off.

"And then what?" he asked insistently.

She hesitated, and he said severely: "Nancy! Don't you dare!"

She felt chastened, especially by his use of her first name. She replied to him: "What I meant was that I get riled up and then ultimately have no way to ... you know..."

He laughed, "Yes, I do know, Nancy Sweet, so we won't do that to you."

She looked at him again, and said: "No?" in a small voice.

"Nope," he said with finality.

She was aware at that point how exciting this exchange with him was; 'he might be only 16 or 17 but he is certainly a 'take charge' person, ' was her thought to herself.

"But let's see here," he said then, "Now, this scarf is to add a little color?"

"Yes, it is," she said quietly, not wanting to move as his fingers played with the scarf tucked into the lapels of her suit jacket.

"But maybe," he said, and pulled the scarf away.

Nancy squeaked at that point again.

"I love that sound, Nancy," he said, "Now look here. I think the scarf was doing double duty."

Now the beginning of her tits were plainly in view; they were large and the suit coat did very little to hide them.

"Lookin' nice, Nancy," he said, and made a point of flinging the scarf back into the back seat.

He reached out then and stroked the part of her breasts that were showing. "Let's see if I can produce that squeak again."

She obliged him, as he continued to rub the tops of her exposed tits.

"Nice tits, Nancy," he said cordially.

"Thank you, uh ... sir," she said, finally getting, she believed, the right ending for the sentence.

He continued to rub his hands over the swell of the top of her tits, which he could see in the opening of the suit coat almost all the way to her nipples. He rubbed and she began to make a sound like a purr.

She was beginning to gasp. She was learning about the bright, kind of sparkling look that she always thought that she saw in Lance's eyes, whenever he was around their house.

"Now, Nancy," he said to her, rubbing the back of her neck now.

"Ohhhhhh," she cooed, "Oh, my neck, my neck is... !"

"Yes, I see," he said, continuing what he was doing.

"What now?" she asked almost in desperation.

"Now, Nancy, Nancy Sweet, sweet Nancy," he said, playing with the words as well as the woman now, "Now you drive and you do everything that I tell you to do."

"I do?" she asked in a small voice, almost a clarifying voice with little or no will of her own.

"You do," he asserted quietly.

Then she realized that she had already made a decision here; the will in the car was certainly now his, and she was a part of that. She was going to have her fantasy this night. She was just going to be the one who was, finally, finally, used this night. She confirmed it with him:

"Yes, I think that I'd better just do that; I mean what you tell me to do."

She knew that she probably shouldn't but right then she couldn't come up with a reason that was good enough to prevent her from doing so.

Lance laughed then: "I thought so, Nancy, Nancy, so beautiful and so tense, and so ripe but so dressed!"

"What ... what do you mean?" she asked timidly.

"It's simple, Mrs. Sweet, mother of my pal Derrick; tonight, right now, in this car, while you're driving, and I'm sitting here fiddling with you, the driver, the mother of my pal, I'm going to take your clothes off!"

"Ohhhhhh," she said with that kind of squeak again. "Ohhhhhhhh."

"I thought you'd like that," he said to her. "Now tell me about you whore's underwear. And I'm not going to sell you to my friends, but I might give you to them sometime."

Nancy moaned then, but was still cognizant of the order; she spoke to fulfill it:

"My bra is a red sting bra, it has strings over my shoulders and in the back; it hooks in the front and consists only of small red patches of material over my ... uh you know."

"Nancy, if you don't use the dirty words, then I'll have to stop this car and hurt you somehow; spank you, use my belt on you, use a twig from the tree."

This made Nancy shake, and he noticed that. He laughed again and said:

"My, my that makes you excited, doesn't it?"

"Yessss, it does;" she said, "Yes, sir, it does."

"Do it again, Nancy, and use the words."

"The red patches of silk just barely cover the nipples on my tits."

"Better," he said, "Much better." As he said this his hand went to the first button on her suit jacket and unbuttoned it.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she squealed, "You're really, really going to..."

"Yes, Nancy," he said with a voice of control, "I really, really am."

Then he proceeded with the next button on her suit coat. It began to gap open enough now that he could see the red silk patch that covered her erect left nipple.

"Hmmm, look at you, Derrick's Mom the whore!"

"Please," she said in what she realized might just be her last protest, "I'm not a..."

But just then Lance stuck a finger in her mouth and said: "Nancy, nancy, with your pretty red bra and tits showing, you are what I tell you that you are."

She sucked on the finger that he gave he, as she drove, and said simply in reply:

"Yes, sir, of course I am. I am Derrick's mother the whore."

"So now behave, and do what you're told or else," he ordered.

"Yes, sir, I will," she answered.

The suit coat was unbuttoned now, and he started to roll it from her right shoulder.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she exclaimed, for now she realized that he really was going to strip her of her clothes, while she was driving.

She finished her exclamation with the words: "This is so exciting!"

Lance laughed as he said: "I thought so. Now off with this suit coat."

She leaned forward and watched the road intently, as he took the suit coat off of her altogether.

The evening was warm, the vents were open, the air was rushing in on her and she was now driving with a teen aged pal of her son in the car, and he'd just taken off her top to let her drive in her skirt and bra. She was excited almost beyond control.

He moved quickly then to unsnap and remove Nancy's bra. She let out a combination squeak and moan, when he did this. Now the rushing night wind swept across her exposed tits, and made mounds of her nipples. She laughed a kind of contented laugh in her throat.

"This is a fantasy," she crooned, "My fantasy, this is just my fantasy."

"Is it making you wet? Derrick's Mom?" he wanted to know.

"Fantastically!" she said.

"Good," he answered, "I might have to check that out."

"But nice tits, Mrs. S!" he said, running his hands over the slope of her right tit, and grasping the nipple, once he got to it.

"Hold on to the wheel," he said in a commanding voice.

"Yes, sir," was her meek reply.

Then he pinched and twisted the nipple, hard.

"Ohhhhhh fuck!" she shouted.

"Nice language in the presence of a minor!" he chided her, and twisted the nipple again.

"Ohhhhhhh," she shouted again.

When he stopped, she said to him: "Lance, I just have to say, you ... you make me feel like no one has ever for years and years; I can't remember when!"

There was a silence then; enough that she looked over at him, and asked him what he was going to do next.

"Are you anxious?" he wanted to know.

"More excited than anxious," was her reply.

He smiled then and said to her: "Next I'm going to begin unbuttoning these buttons. "How convenient that your skirt buttons up the side all the way." While he said this, he unbuttoned the first button.

"Mmmm," she crooned at him, "You're just not going to stop until I'm naked."

"That's the idea, babe," he replied, "I want you eventually to be driving this car bare assed naked."

"Oh, I like the phrase," she admitted, "Bare assed naked indeed let it be.!"

The night had closed in around them, as he continued to unbutton the buttons on the side of her skirt. The skirt began to fall to the side, as he did it.

"Lance," she said with a little more seriousness in her voice, "Lance, I haven't felt this alive in so long. If it weren't so damn exciting, and didn't keep me so aroused, I'd be crying about it now. Wayne was sick for so long and ... and, well, it's just been such a long time."

"Then enjoy it, babe, you deserve it."

"Thank you," she said and put a hand on his hand to pat it, as he unbuttoned another button on the side of her skirt.

Now her entire thigh was visible, and the top of her thigh high smokey stockings. He stopped then to just run his hands up and down the length of her thigh.

"You are a sexy cunt, Mrs. S!" he said.

"Ohhhh," she replied with a giggle, "I like it when you call me dirty names. I've always had this thing about a strong person, maybe a man, maybe a woman, doing things, calling me dirty names and ordering me around. It certainly makes me wet."

"There," he said finally, "The package is unwrapped." He'd unbuttoned the last of her skirt buttons and it sagged away from her altogether. "Lift your hips and ass, and let's get this off of you," he ordered.

She did as she was told, and he slipped the skirt from around and under her. Now she rode with the window opened and the breeze blowing in on her, wearing only her panties, heels and thigh highs.

"How fucking cool is this!" she said aloud exultantly.

"Okay," he said to her then, "Take the next right. It's time for a little parade."

She did as she was told, and drove down a dirt road. He had her take another right and that led to a dirt road that ended in a bit. He told her to stop then. She did, and looked at him for his next order. She was under his control, she was living just then at a level that she'd thought about but not experienced for a long time.

"Get out now," he ordered.

"Out?" she asked in a scared voice.

"Yes, out, walk to the end of the road there in the headlights. Then turn around. When you do reach your hands down and take your panties off. Stuff your panties in your mouth and then walk back to the car. Show me what a slut Derrick's Mom is. Do it! Do it now!"

She got out of the car, whispering to him: "Lance, you magnificent fucker!" and she strode away. The red line of the string from the thong panties was nestled into her ass crack. She swung her hips in an exaggerated fashion and simply strutted along for him, hoping that he was enjoying the sensation.

Then she turned around. She hooked her thumbs over the waist band of the panties and pulled them down and off of one foot and then the other. Now her wet pussy curls were exposed. She wadded up the panties, and, as he'd told her, she shoved them into her mouth. When they were there, she sucked on the pussy flavoring that they had. Then she began her stride back to him and the car. She put all the sexiness she could in the walk to the car. He stood by the car door and waited for her, making a show of pulling the panties slowly out of her mouth.

She arrived back at the car and, as soon as she was there, she just launched herself at him. She took the panties out of her mouth to be able to get at him. Her lips met his, and were open and inviting as they did. He slid his tongue into her mouth and she treated it like a cock, sucking on it.

"My, my, you suck like you know what you're doing, Mrs. S," he said.

"For you, I will do my very best, master," she said half seriously and half facetiously.

He continued to kiss her and let his hands drift down to hold her ass cheeks, as they kissed. She pressed herself against him and ground into him, as he did this. His hands separated her ass cheeks and then stole into the 'narrows' to seek out her asshole, as they still kissed. She grunted with appreciation, when one of his fingers found their goal and snuck into her asshole getting yet another squeak from her.

 
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