Lila's made a habit of stopping by the house when Mom isn't home. The first time it happened, I chalked it up to a misunderstanding between the two of them. Lila seemed plenty embarrassed once I reminded her Mom was working second shift. Ducking her head, she apologized for disturbing me.

Then it happened again. And again.

Now, I didn't go to college like Lila's son, but I have sense enough to know what my mom's friend is up to. She and I always laugh over her foolish mistake, and then I invite her inside, where she insists she can stay for just a few minutes. I'll pour her a glass of iced tea, then help myself to one of the cookies she's brought. We'll sit in front of the television, neither of us saying much. I'm twenty-three, while she's gotta be in her late forties. We don't exactly have a lot in common.

I'll pretend not to notice how she often sneaks glances at me. I'll make a point to pay her a compliment, mentioning that I like her blouse or her shoes. Her clothes are actually quite plain, doing little to accentuate her slim figure, but a tiny white lie never hurt anyone.

Of course, Lila might disagree with that, since she's so religious. That's how she and my mother met. After ending an affair with a married man (not her first), Mom decided she needed Jesus in her life. She picked a church in town, seemingly at random, and attended Sunday service. Lila, a long-time member of the congregation, welcomed Mom, and despite their differences in personality and background (Lila married her high-school sweetheart, while Mom's been divorced twice), the two became fast friends.

Since then, they've tried to convince me to accompany them on Sunday mornings. Though Mom insists it's made her a better person, I think she still has a ways to go. And I'm well aware there's no hope of redemption for me.

Consider this evening if you want an example of my wicked ways. Mom's at work, having left a couple hours ago. On weeknights, I'm usually home from my job by five, and it's rare that I go back out. Even if I were tempted to head over to a friend's or for a drink at the bar in town, the possibility of seeing Lila would make me scrap those plans. I have a feeling she'll show up.

And tonight, I'm ready for her.

The moment I hear that timid knock, I grin. She's right on time.

I open the door with a flourish. Lila's there, holding a plate of cookies. Already, she has a sweet smile fixed on her face, but it vanishes when she catches sight of me. Her blue eyes widen before she can look away.

"Barrett!" As she stammers out my name, I notice her cheeks flushing bright red. "I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

I'm the one who should be apologizing, since I'm standing before her in nothing but my boxers. "I just got out of the shower," I explain, doing my best to appear sheepish. "I was about to get dressed when I heard you knock."

"I'm so sorry for just stopping by like this," she says, as if she hasn't done it several times before. "I made some cookies for you and Arlene." She thrusts the plate toward me. "She's not home, is she."

It's a statement rather than a question. She knows Mom isn't home.

Taking the plate, I say, "No, she's working second again. These rotating shifts are a real bitch." Seeing Lila's wince, I add, "Please excuse my language."

Her smile returns. "Well, I won't keep you, Barrett. I hope you enjoy the cookies."

I give them an appreciative glance. "Oatmeal raisin, my favorite! Thanks, Lila. And come on in. No need to run off when you just got here."

She hesitates only a second before stepping into the living room. In the lamplight, I allow my stare to drift over her. Her mousy brown hair falls past her shoulders, and I can tell she's made an attempt to curl it. The waves are lackluster, limply framing her face. She's wearing a white midi skirt that reveals little more than a tease of her bare legs. Her black ballet flats add no height to her petite stature.

But her top? That catches my attention. It's black and lacy, giving the illusion of being see-through even when it isn't. And unlike most of her other clothes, it fits her well, clinging to her small breasts.

What I find most attractive about Lila is her mouth. Her lips, specifically. They're lush and full, and tonight, she's brightened them with pink lipstick.

She follows me into the kitchen. While I set the plate on the table, she says, "I'm gonna help myself to a drink, if that's okay."

"Of course," I reply. "We've got iced tea waiting for you."

Extending a hand, she tousles my dark hair, mussing the still-damp strands. The gesture is affectionate, even motherly, but her gaze is less so as it lingers on my chest. Good thing it doesn't move even lower, or she'd see the beginnings of a hard-on beneath my boxers.

I wait for her to turn her back and head for the other side of the kitchen. Once she's busy retrieving a glass from the cabinet, I take off my boxers. My bare feet are practically silent as I draw closer to my mother's friend.

"It's been so warm today!" she says while taking the pitcher of tea from the fridge. "Summer will be here before we know it."

"Mmm-hmm." My erection strengthens until my dick is looming out from me, as if it's desperate to reach Lila. "And it's probably gonna be a hot one."

I let her return the pitcher to the fridge, but before she has a chance to lift her glass, I slip my arms around her waist.

She starts at the unexpected touch, and her gasp sounds so dramatic that you'd think I doused her with freezing cold water.

I don't see any reason to keep up the ridiculous charade she and I have been playing, so I lower my lips to her ear and whisper, "I know why you keep coming around."

"Barrett?" Her voice is thin and shaky.

In answer, I grind against her so she feels how hard I already am. 

"Oh... oh, dear Lord." She's rigid in my embrace but makes no effort to escape it.

Brushing her hair back, I plant a kiss on her neck.

"Barrett, we can't," she weakly protests.

"If you don't want this," I tell her in a firm tone, "then you can leave right now. But no more stopping by when you know Mom isn't here. No more giving me those looks that show me just how badly you need to be fucked."

Though Lila releases a faint whimper, she doesn't resist as I gather her skirt in my fists. I lift it higher until it's bunched around her waist. With the garment trapped between us, I reach around and slide a hand along her thigh.

Her body is tense against mine; I can feel her trembling beneath my touch. But when my fingers graze the crotch of her panties, I discover she's already dampened the fabric.

"Does that needy pussy start getting wet as soon as you see me?" I tease her with a light caress. "You feel how hard I am for you?" To emphasize my words, I pull her tight against me so my cock is nestled between us.

"This is sinful!" She sounds on the verge of tears, yet her hips begin a subtle rocking. 

Encouraged, I work my fingers into her panties. Unlike most of the women I've fucked, Lila's pussy isn't smooth. Coarse, trimmed hair covers her outer lips and mound.

"God will forgive us," I say while exploring her folds. She's so hot and slick, so ready. "He knows you've been feeling neglected. Your husband takes you for granted, doesn't he? He can't appreciate how damn sexy you are."

She shakes her head, and I don't know if it's to dispute my assumption or agree that her husband is indeed an asshole who shows her no affection.

Our bodies move in a sensual rhythm while I play with her pussy. Soft moans escape her lips, and she lifts her hands to weave her fingers through my hair.

I circle all around her clit until she actually begs. My mouth is hungry at her neck when I finally use a firmer touch. The direct stimulation to her swollen nub soon has her crying out.

I'm surprised at how fast she comes. She shudders and wails, and I keep working at her clit, drawing out her orgasm.

Once her trembling subsides, she pushes away from me and then turns around. Her expression is so fierce that she's almost unrecognizable. Without hesitation, she takes hold of my cock.

As she strokes me, I bring my slick fingers to my mouth and suck them clean. The woman's shock makes me wonder if her husband's ever gone down on her.

"I love the taste of your pussy," I say. Though her cheeks flush an even deeper red, her hand moves faster to pleasure me. "I want that juice all over my cock."

Before Lila can again tell me how sinful we're being, I give her a hard kiss. The instant our tongues meet, she sinks into my arms, as if she's lost the will to hold herself upright. 

My cock pulses as I finally get to enjoy those plush lips of hers. I lick and nibble at them, then suck on the bottom one.

She shrieks, then laughs, when I gather her up and carry her to the table. Once I have her leaned against its edge, I sink to my knees and reach under her skirt so I can yank down her panties. They're plain cotton, and I can't resist pressing them to my face.

"Your husband's crazy for not eating you every night," I tell her.

Lila tries to duck behind her hair, but I don't give her a chance to hide. Instead, I grab her ass, enjoying the feel of her lean buttocks in my palms. Then I pull her to me and swipe my tongue between her hairy pussy lips.

She yelps in surprise but soon dares to grind against my mouth. When I try to lick her clit, she sucks in a breath and tells me it's too sensitive.

"I need..." She's almost panting now.

Staring up at her, I grin. "What do you need? Say it, Lila."

"I need your cock inside me."

I'm quick to climb to my feet. At this point, my dick is so hard that I'm aching. After lifting Lila onto the table, I spread her legs lewdly wide. When she tries to close them a little, I plant a hand on her inner thigh and shake my head. 

Then I tug her shirt above her breasts. She looks down at herself, seemingly in disbelief that she's being exposed on my kitchen table like a whore. A desperate whine escapes her when I tease her nipples through her bra. The undergarment has a front clasp, which I hurry to unfasten. 

Despite her age, her small breasts feel as firm as crab apples. Leaning forward, I suck and bite at each rosy nipple.

"You're... you're such a bad boy!" Lila says.

I moan in agreement while suckling her right tit. "Such a bad influence on you." I kiss my way up to her mouth. "How many commandments are you going to break tonight?"

The tip of my cock is smeared with precum, and I take a perverse pleasure in sliding it between Lila's pussy lips so she's covered in the fluid.

Finally, I position myself at her opening. Once her eyes have locked with mine, I give a powerful thrust. 

She's dripping wet, and not quite as tight as women my age, but that heat surrounding my entire length makes my eyes roll.

"Fuuuck," I groan.

Lila leans back, planting her hands against the table. Her expression is stricken, as if she's only now comprehending what we've done.

Yet she pleads, "Fuck me, Barrett. Fuck me hard!"

I start rutting away between her legs, my movements accompanied by the sound of her squelching pussy. I get even more excited watching my dick pumping in and out.

Looking up, I discover Lila has closed her eyes. Her lips are moving, and I wonder if she's praying for forgiveness at this very moment.

When I grasp her hair, she opens her eyes and stares at me.

"I won't let you hide from this." I angle her head downward so she's forced to witness our fucking. "Watch me own your hot, wet pussy, Lila."

My words cause her to violently tremble. She cries out each time our bodies connect until I'm moving so fast that she can only scream.

As she comes all around me, the strength of her contractions threaten to make my knees buckle.

"Holy shit!" I choke out. "You're gripping me so hard, you're gonna make me fill your cunt. Is that what you want?"

Now I'm the one praying. Praying she'll let me claim her in such a forbidden way.

Her muscles continue milking my cock. She manages to say, "Please!"

"You'll go home to your husband," I taunt, "with my cum leaking out of you. You'll never want him again after this."

Her features twist, as if she's about to sob. "I only want you, I swear!"

I can't hold back another second. My balls are drawn tight, and my dick is pulsing while buried inside Lila. Covered in sweat, I shudder like I'm in the grip of a fever.

Then I flood her pussy, a helpless groan issuing from my throat. My hips keep moving through the orgasm until I grow so sensitive I can no longer bear it.

I groan louder before pulling out. My dick is coated with cum and pussy juice. A filthy urge leads me to gather up some of the fluid on my fingers and lift them to Lila's mouth.

Her gaze is slightly unfocused; she's still coming down from that peak. But she doesn't hesitate to part her lips and take my fingers between them. I hear her hungry moan, and the feel of her tongue sliding over my skin makes me shiver.

"Every time you show up here like this," I say, "we're going to fuck. Do you understand?"

She nods, reaching for me. Our kiss is tender now.

"You're one of the sexiest women I've ever met," I whisper, and that's no white lie. Not after tonight.

Those gorgeous lips of hers curve into a smile. "Is Arlene working second shift again tomorrow?" Her hand drifts lower to fondle my cock.

"She is," I respond with a pleasured sigh.

"I'll try to keep that in mind." Lila gives me a look of exaggerated innocence before adding, "But I just might forget and show up unannounced."