Breeding Mrs. Stanton - Cover

Breeding Mrs. Stanton

Copyright© 2023 by Lubrican

Chapter 6

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 6 - When new neighbors moved in, Bob saw more of the woman than the man. She was like his finest fantasy. Problem was, she was married. She was also much older than he was. But he could dream. Then he stopped her husband from killing her and their relationship changed. Now, from her perspective, there were no leagues. There was her and the man who saved her. She needed that man and she convinced his parents to let him help her with her PTSD. An 'injection' helped. It would take many more of them.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa   mt   Fiction   Rough   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Pregnancy  

By the time I dragged my ass home, the next morning, I didn’t have to pretend to be dragging ass. Valerie hadn’t made love for years. She’d had sex, or rather her husband had had sex and she was there while it happened, but she hadn’t been made love to. She had also hidden the fact that he hit her from the world. Now, finally, because one nineteen-year-old virtual stranger had cared about her, she was free. She took advantage of that and rewarded that young man for his good deed so many times that night that I finally said she had broken it and that it probably wouldn’t ever work again.

“It will work,” she said. She was as perky as it was possible to be, even though she was just as sleep-deprived as I was. “Trust me, it has thousands of boners left in it and I plan to be there for each and every one of them.”

Her tone then changed.

“Unfortunately, unless I get on birth control pills, those boners will have to be encased in a sheath. I loved last night but if I’m not pregnant it will be too dangerous to keep doing that.”

“So why did you keep wanting to be dangerous all night long?” I asked. Even my voice was tired.

“Because after the first time it was already too late, so I thought I might as well enjoy one night with my lover. And I did.” She grinned. “I confess you do look a little worse for the wear. Will you be able to get some sleep or will you have to stay up for appearances?”

“My mother will already be up and feeding my dad. As soon as I get there she’ll want to feed me, too and interrogate me on how you are. If I spin things correctly then she’ll believe you had a rough night, which is why I had a rough night. I should be able to take a nap but I still have a lot of work to catch up on. I was supposed to have been working on your computer while you slept but, somehow, I got distracted.”

“Well, I didn’t get distracted,” she said. She had her robe on again and I was dressed. I thought it was possible my mom might show up with breakfast for Valerie. She kissed me on the cheek. “I spent the night exactly as I wanted to. Don’t get a big head, but it was quite possibly the best night of my whole life. When you go off to college I might have to find another buff, energetic, hot young man to de-virginize like that.”

“Okay,” I sighed. “You do that. I’m going to drag my de-virginized ass home. I probably won’t see you again until I get caught up on work. It would be suspicious if I keep running over here and coming back with a shit-eating grin on my face.” I frowned. “I wonder where that phrase came from? Why would anybody who ate shit grin about it?”

“Please don’t use vulgar words like that,” she said. “Your mouth is too pretty and I wouldn’t want to kiss the lips of a mouth that said things like that all the time.”

I was surprised by this sudden display of values I would have expected my mother to display.

I didn’t remind her of some of the words that had come out of her mouth last night.

When she had a really good orgasm she also had a potty mouth.


I was right. Mom was indeed up and breakfast was almost ready. She hugged me and asked how Valerie was. I said she’d had a rough night but seemed to be sleeping peacefully, finally. She said I was a fine young man for being so selfless. While she had hugged me she had sniffed and now she said, “As soon as you eat, you need to go take a shower.”

It was said as casually as everything else. I grabbed a quick bite and was finished as Dad walked in, dressed for work.

“How is my dragon-slaying son, this morning. Did you get any sleep?”

“A little,” I said. “I thought she was getting better but I guess it’s like those Vietnam vets who have flashbacks about the war.”

“The majority of them learned how to function. We’ll just have to hope she does, too.”

I went to my room and stripped out of me relatively clean clothes. I took a shower and then I fell into bed.


My mom did, in fact, take breakfast next door to the “unfortunate woman who has suffered so much and deserves so much better.”

I found out about their conversation later. It went something like this:

Julie (upon entering Valerie’s bedroom and shaking the shoulder of the apparently sleeping woman in the bed): “Good morning. Are you feeling better?” I brought you some breakfast, but I have a question. Why does my son smell like sex this morning?”

Valerie (who had thought about this eventuality a lot more than I had and knew it was unlikely we could keep such a secret from everybody): “I was not lying when I said I still feel fear when I’m alone. It’s true that I feel safer when Bob is here. When I finally got him into bed I felt truly safe. He’s an adult and we had a discussion about hearts getting broken but I don’t think that will happen unless external forces come to play.”

Julie: “So that’s what I am, now ... an external force?”

Valerie: Not unless you insist on being one. You are very dear to me. I know why Bob is the man he is, the man who came to my rescue and the man I feel very strong attachment to. He’s one of the most decent men I’ve ever met and he got that way because you raised him that way. So, thank you very much.”

Julie: “He looked awfully tired, this morning.”

Valerie: “We ... talked ... most of the night. We had a lot to talk about. I’ve never talked with a man like him and it was very pleasant.”

Julie (after sitting on the edge of the bed for maybe a full minute in silence): “Do you really feel improved? About your trauma?”

Valerie: “I can honestly tell you Bob helped me more than I’ll ever be able to express. I haven’t felt safe in my own house for the last five years. Now, in this new one, because of Bob, I can actually relax and feel safe.”

Julie: “Have you two ... talked ... before this?”

Valerie: “No. After court today I was very unsettled. He was there, in handcuffs, but I saw murder in his eyes. Bob took me to a late lunch at MacElroy’s to help me calm down.”

Julie: “I remember. You did sound stressed. You sounded even more stressed later, when you asked if my son could watch over you.”

Valerie: “I confess to some hyperbole and I’m sorry for that. I won’t ever do that to you again. I really do value your friendship. But I really did need him last night. The part about how I finally feel safe is all true and it is in large measure to Bob. I’m fine at work, but when I get home and I’m all alone, that’s when it gets to me. Court merely made it worse. Bob being here last night helped more than you’ll ever know.”

Julie: “Surely it helped that your husband was behind bars.”

Valerie. “Minimally. The reason he did all this to me was because I had him served with divorce papers. The reason I had him served divorce papers because he broke every vow he made when we got married. I didn’t feel like his wife. I felt like his pet. He said he was going to kill me and that no other man would ever have me. I’m sure he would have, too, except for Bob’s intervention. When the divorce goes through his furor will last for years. It won’t matter how long it is before they let him out. He’ll look for me and if he can find me he’ll try to finish what he started. So yes, I’m not ashamed that I finally felt safe and comforted last night. I really hope we can still be friends.”

Julie: “I think we can. We might need to work some things out in the future, but I’m actually optimistic. If I hadn’t gotten to know you before this I might have thought about things differently but your point is valid. He’s an adult. He can make his own decisions.”

Valerie: “Thank you.”

Apparently there were some tears involved at this point and a hug.

Julie: “Get some rest and then a shower. You smell like my son. I’ll put your breakfast in the fridge.”


By the time my mom came home I was already in slumber-land. She let me sleep four hours and then woke me up and said I needed to get some work done. She had never done this before but I was too groggy to take notice of it. I got up and had a cup of coffee and then started coding. I felt good and I kind of got into a groove. When Mom came up behind me and said, “Lunch, Bobby,” I said, “Later. Thanks,” and kept working. By evening, when Dad got home from work I was bushed but almost caught up on my quota.

At supper Mom casually said, “Valerie called. She’s feeling much better. She says she might not need someone in the house with her tonight. I told her to call if she gets too anxious.”

Nobody called and we had a normal Patterson evening.

The next day was Saturday and, when I got up, Mom said, “You should probably go check on Valerie.”

“Did she call?” I asked.

“No. Last night might have been stressful for her, though. It’s best that we stay on top of this.”

She froze and blushed furiously, which was odd.

“Okay. After breakfast I’ll drop by. I’ll wait until nine or ten, though. I don’t want to bother her if she’s sleeping.”

“You’re right,” said my mother. “The idea is to relieve stress rather than causing it. She needs her rest before you blunder in there like an elephant.”

“I don’t blunder,” I said, trying to sound wounded. “I try to only do what she needs done.”

“I’m sure you do,” said my mom.

I watched, curiously, as her face turned red again. She said something about hot flashes and waved her hand at her face. Then she said she had laundry to do and left.

Menopause? My mother? How could that be? She’s only thirty-eight!

I figured I’d ask Valerie about that when I went over.


My mother and Valerie had spoken in a code of sorts, but they had understood each other plainly. Mom spoke to me in a code of sorts, too, to which I was oblivious until I popped in on Valerie, using a different kind of code to go in her house. She was sitting at her kitchen table, drinking coffee when I called out that I was there and then found her. Her laptop was open and I assumed she was reading the news, or checking her Facebook or Instagram page or whatever.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She looked surprised, which made me confused.

“Mom said I should come check on you and see how you did last night with nobody else in the house.”

“She did, did she.” The way she said it didn’t sound like a question.

“Yes. You did talk to her last night, right? She said you wanted to see if you could make it through a night alone.”

“She said that.” Again, it wasn’t a question. “And she told you to come check on me today?” That was a question.

“Yes.” By now her strange behavior had me worried. Or maybe alert is the better adjective. Like a deer in the forest, eating but also looking and listening, just in case, you know? “Is something going on?” I asked.

Valerie decided not to talk in code.

“Yes, but I’m not sure what. Your mother and I had a conversation yesterday, after you went home. She asked me why you smelled like sex when you got there.”

“What?!” Now I was alarmed.

“I should have made you take a shower before you left,” she said. “I should have taken one, too, for that matter, because at one point she said I smelled like you!”

“I’m having a hard time processing this, because yesterday and this morning she acted completely normal. What else did she say?”

“She reminded me I was still married and I explained that I don’t feel married because of what he did. She seemed to accept that, but I did not expect her to send you over here like this.”

“So you’re telling me my mother knows we had sex?”

“It wasn’t said that plainly, but she agreed with me that you’re a grown man, who can make his own decisions.”

“She said that?” I was really surprised.

“She did. And she said she thought she and I could still be friends. She also said we’d probably have to discuss this situation again, in the future.”

I went back over my conversation with my mother, that morning. I confess a lot of what my parents say kind of drifts past me. Mom would say it goes in one ear and out the other. So I had to think hard to remember exactly what she said. I remembered how she blushed after she said we should “stay on top of things” and how she blushed again when I said I only did what Valerie wanted me to. Those blushes pushed menopause off the table and I got a glimmer of the code she had used.

“She sent me over here,” I said.

“I’m surprised she did,” said Valerie.

“I wonder if it’s some kind of test,” I mused. “Like she’s timing me or something to see how long I stay.”

“Why would she send you over here and then time you?”

“I don’t know. She’s a woman and I don’t understand most of what women do.”

“You might be right,” said Valerie. “Maybe she wants to see if sex is the only component of our relationship.”

“It’s not,” I said. “Sex wasn’t any part of our relationship until last night. Uh ... night before last.”

“It was, but only on a low level that just simmered in the background.”

“So, should I go home and tell her you’re okay?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t want you to go home, but maybe you should.”

“I have an idea,” I said. “How about if I tell her you want to get out of the house later and drive around with me showing you the sights?”

“I’ve lived here for four months, Bob. I’ve seen all the sights there are.”

“Yes, but you haven’t seen the country roads, which you can take to get places if the highway is blocked, or under repair or whatever.”

“That seems like a stretch to me,” she said, doubtfully.

Would you like to see where some of the country roads around here go?” I asked.

“Well, now that you mention it, I guess that might be fun,” she said.

“Then it’s legit. I’ll go home and tell her that. When do you want to go?”

“Noon,” she said. “I’ll pack a picnic lunch and we can stop at a park somewhere.”

“Okay!”

I kissed her. I should have felt surprised that it felt like a completely normal kiss that a boyfriend and girlfriend might exchange.

All I felt was the passion in her lips as she kissed me back.

Then I went home.


Mom was clearly surprised to see me.

“You’re here!” she said.

“That’s pretty obvious,” I said, pointing at myself with both index fingers.

“I thought you went next door.”

“I did. She made it through the night and she said she feels pretty good. She wants to get out of the house, though. I told her I’d show her where some country roads go, you know just drive around and check things out?”

“Oh.” That was it, just “Oh.”

Don’t ask me why I did it, but I probed.

When this story gets more text, you will need to Log In to read it

 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.


Log In