Unspoken Pleasure by Erotica

Owning My Friend's Mom: EP2

When she asked him a question, he found he had to struggle to focus on her and come up with an answer. He managed to blurt out something about going to shoot hoops, and was actually glad when she left it at that and ran out the door with a quick wave. Now he was home alone with her mom and could start to put his plan into action.

He continued to sit at the table and pretend to read the paper until he heard Mrs. Clark enter. "Oh, hi, Greg."

"Hi, Mrs. C. Did you have a good night last night?" Greg asked very pointedly, staring intently at her. She was wearing another one of her bland, baggy sweaters and a pair of unflattering pants. Greg realized that in the entire time he had known her, he could never recall seeing her in anything else.

Looking at Greg with an odd expression on her face, she hesitantly replied, "Umm.... yes I did, thank you."

After a pause, "would you like some breakfast, Greg?"

"Yes, that would be fine, Mrs. C," Greg replied, still looking intently at her.

As she turned and busied herself at the stove, Greg gathered his thoughts and tried to muster the courage to proceed with his plan, praying a silent prayer that it would work. When a few minutes had passed, he reached out and intentionally knocked over his glass of milk spilling it onto the floor by his feet.

Hearing the accident, Mrs. Clark spun around to see what had happened. Seeing that it was just a bit of spilt milk, she began to walk towards the closet to retrieve the mop.

"No, Mrs. C., don't use that. Use this," Greg quickly replied holding up a dish towel he had conveniently placed on the table next to the milk.

Without even thinking about it, Mrs. Clark changed directions and walked over to the table to take the cloth from Greg's outstretched hands. If she hadn't had such a sleepless night last night, because her thoughts had been plagued with images from the stories and pictures, she probably would have thought it odd that Greg didn't clean up the mess himself.

She dropped the cloth on the spilt milk and was going to use her foot to move it around, but Greg spoke up again. "No, Mrs. C. You should get down on your hands and knees to clean it up. It's the only way to make sure you do a good job," he said with a touch of authority in his voice.

Greg's feet and began to, hesitantly, clean up the mess. Greg felt energized, having Stacey's mom kneeling at his feet cleaning up after him. He knew he had to proceed carefully

know Mrs. C., I was reading somewhere that a proper and decent woman wears a blouse and a skirt. You

slightly at the cheeks and could not look him in the eyes. Her thoughts were jumbled and she had a difficult time formulating a response. When she realized he expected her

if you are indeed a 'proper and decent

a deeper red, Mrs. Clark stuttered, "well....I.... it's just...

be dressed that way," Greg replied amicably, sensing a win. "I think you got it all cleaned up now Mrs. C. You can get up

For the rest of the meal, Greg acted as if

finished eating, he informed Mrs. Clark, "I'm going to head out to the school to shoot some hoops, but would like to drop by for supper, if that's alright with

with the rest of the conversation she had with Greg, she readily

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he took a deep breath to steady himself and prayed that the suggestion

*************

most of the day, trying to waste as much time as he could, shooting hoops, hanging out at the mall, and heading down to

not know what he was going to find when he walked into the house. The first thing he noticed was the smell of supper cooking in the oven. That was certainly a good sign.

were slightly larger than Stacey's, but looked just as firm. Greg could feel his cock beginning to stir in his

will be ready in 15 minutes. Stacey is just upstairs getting changed, if you want to have a seat for

the table, he could see that it had already been set, and, fortunately, the milk was already on the table. Taking a deep breath, Greg filled his glass up and then casually knocked it over, once again spilling its contents

around, grabbed the dishcloth from the handle of the stove, and walked over to the table. Slowly sinking to her knees, Mrs. Clark began to clean up the mess in the manner which she had

pulled out his digital camera and quickly, without her noticing, snapped off a shot of her kneeling at his feet cleaning up the mess. From his vantage point, he could see a hint of flesh through the opening of her shirt.

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on her shirt done up. I think it best if you undo the top