I have gone completely mad. There is no other explanation.

After having Oliver over to my house for some exquisite lovemaking, I was hooked like a smack addict might be. I wanted more of my seventeen-year-old student; more of his sex. I thought I could not live without his lips on me.

The next day in school, we played it cool. Both of us knew what was bubbling under the surface, yet my words of caution were prominent in our minds. "No one can ever know!"

I was assuming his thoughts as he had a moment of looking at my breasts, and I had a moment of loving it. That made me feel like he was trying to behave normally.

He exited to a cheerful, "Bonjour," and I got tingly in my vagina. Mad...crazy...

That night, I had made love to my husband Charlie with a new sense of purpose. I actually climaxed twice and encouraged him to give me oral sex. He said I was acting slutty. I did not care!

The idea of getting pregnant was starting to arouse me in a very bizarre way. Like most female behavior, I chalked it up to hormonal cycles. On cue, that night my monthly arrived, helping to calm me down.

What also assuaged my urges was a chance encounter with the object of my lustful obsession in the hallway the next morning. I politely greeted him, and he pretended to talk about needing help with an "assignment." He raised an eyebrow. Cutest thing. Like something out of Ian Fleming, I responded, "Well, that will be fine. I am not available for the next few days, I have a regularly scheduled commitment, but we can look at next week." It took him a moment as I think he was afraid I was having regrets. Then his eyes went wide and he blushed. He looked away and could not have been cuter. He straightened up as if he had gained maturity.

"Je comprend, Madame. Merci." (I understand, thanks) And off he went, his shoulders a little saggy, his usual introspection returning. Despite my period, I wanted to drag him into the janitor's closet and have him take me hard with his wonderful teen dick.

"Oh dear..." I had to get a long drink from the fountain to help cool my fire.

The rest of the week felt mundane. My cramps, luckily, are manageable with Midol. Charlie is very sweet, stepping up with loving attention and taking care of dinner a few nights. By Saturday, I was nearly finished, and the ache for Oliver returned. I was fearful of what might happen on Monday when I saw him again.

Sunday afternoon, my phone rang; my best friend and colleague, Joyce, was asking what I was up to and if she could come over. Charlie was watching football at his friend Dennis', so I said yes and proceeded to prepare some fresh coffee and some of the apple crisp I had made a few days earlier. My mother always said, "Even close friends and family deserve to be served something."

We chatted at the kitchen table, and she told an outrageous story about her recently divorced mother-in-law. Seems she was caught in her church with the pastor in a compromising position on her knees. The man is single, yet nearly thirty years her junior. Scandalous!

My mind went to Oliver and me, and I started to feel uncomfortable sweat in my palms, and my heart was accelerating. Our age gap may have been twelve years, the student/teacher factor was pretty damning, yet my oblivious libido was taking me elsewhere.

"You all right, MaryAnn?"

I had been far away in some grand Parisian Hotel with my young lover, eating expensive cheese and drinking wine. "What? Oh, yeah...just 'finishing up' and I have been so airheaded this month." I hated using that as an excuse as so many men used it as a reason to diminish women. But I did get a little flighty right after the cramps ended.

"I hear you. These past couple have been doozies."

I nodded with a polite smile and then rose. "You want some more coffee?" Face flushed, I stepped to the counter to fill my cup, which I had barely sipped. My hand actually trembled as a rush of desire swept over me.

"No, I'm good with the one. Late in the day, it can wreak havoc below."

I laughed and shook my head. I sat again and stirred in some more creamer.

Joyce stared at me. The silence gave no warning of a bomb being dropped. "How long has it been going on?"

My heart froze, and my eyes went wide. I know I blanched, and I stopped stirring my coffee. I stammered like a fool. "Wh - what do you mean? How long has what been going...on?"

"Do I know him?"

Oh god, I was caught. She knew me too well, and my acting skills were a bad amateur understudy level.

“Merde…” (shit) slipped out as a confession.

Joyce steepled her fingers, her sharp and attractive features looking through me. She spoke with authority, yet a touch of understanding. “I know you well enough that I could tell something’s going on. And I know women who are unsatisfied well enough that I know what you may be doing.”

I made a small sound of protest, but no words would form.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. Men sleep around all the time, don’t they? My Freddy cheated on me twice with the same secretary." I gasped. She continued, "I forgave him because it’s in their nature… but it’s also in ours, MaryAnn. You are looking for, how shall I put it, pleasure elsewhere. And I say Equal Rights for All.”

I was fully flabbergasted. I knew she was right, but the revelation of Freddy being a cheater was quite surprising. They seemed to have such a perfect relationship, and three children. My Charlie would never… A sudden wash of heat came over me, and I looked down. Apparently, she was a mind reader.

“He probably has. And he would probably tell you it meant nothing because, honestly, it did. They need regular sexual satisfaction; it’s why we need to constantly keep them interested even after the babies are born.”

I took a deep breath. I needed to stop this before I said something that could ruin a few lives, not the least of which was my 17-year-old lover. "I am sorry to hear about Fred. But I assure you, Charlie is faithful.”

“But you are not."

I gasped and looked away, trying to find indignation but only coming up with ascending arousal.

"You don’t need to tell me who it is. But if I figured it out, Charlie is going to... eventually. Men just take longer because they never think their wives are doing it; even though they are probably bedding other men’s wives.”

“Joyce!” I truly was surprised at her bluntness. My mind was dealing with a brain in turmoil.

“I will say one more thing before I go. Several, actually." She leaned in, her tall, svelte body almost buzzing with excitement, her eyes on fire. And, oh dear, her nipples were pinging! "I hope that he is younger and giving you great pleasure. I hope you are taking your birth control. And I hope that when you are ready, you can share the details. I enjoy hearing about it…very much. With a body like yours, it must be pretty spectacular.”

She rose and picked up her purse. I sat there, staring at my coffee cup, my heart hammering, my breath seeming to be unavailable. I coughed to shake me back to focus and, for some ungodly reason, decided to confess. “You are right. I am, I mean. I did…in fact, it just happened six days ago.”

She put a kind hand on my shoulder and squeezed. She sat again with and reached out to hold mine. I looked up in surprise. Her face had a very devilish grin, and I found it quite intriguing.

“Leave nothing out. From someone who has been there, it will feel better.”

What? “You too?!”

“Yes, but that story is for a different day. Let it all out, MaryAnn. I want to hear it.” She was speaking with concern, but her face was pinkening in salacious curiosity. She pushed her long blond tresses behind her ears to allow for better reception.

I hesitated. I trusted her implicitly, but what was about to be revealed was unprofessional. It was unethical! As my mentor teacher, how would she, in good conscience, keep it a secret?

"I know I can trust you, Joyce. This cannot get out."

"Mum's the word. But, like I said, if I figured it out...?"

I nodded, then took a deep breath. "It's a student. A seventeen-year-old in my sixth-period French Three class." I covered my mouth and then my whole face. "Oh god, I'm going to get fired and then sent to Hell!"

I slowly dropped my hands as I had heard no response. What I saw was the most shocking thing so far. Joyce was grinning from ear to ear.

"Holy Cow... I never would have pegged you for the Afterschool Special type."

"Joyce!" I was shocked both at her reaction and her reference to the popular television program for young people.

"Who is it? Wait, don't tell me. It will shade how I view them." She sat back, still smiling. "Was he good?"

"Oh my God!" I was flushed with embarrassment. Then I looked down and whispered, "Remarkably."

"Oo la la, mon ami."

I shook my head and chuckled softly. The secret out, I suddenly felt buoyed to want to tell more, but not get too detailed. I related his crush and fascination with my breasts, how Charlie and I have been arguing about when to start a family. How Oliver brought out a maternal instinct in me, and I let him suckle my breasts.

Joyce whispered, "Oh my..." then ran her long finger along the V-neck of her sweater.

I took a deep breath and served more dessert. We both dove in with our forks as I told her about making love in our guest room. I was hesitant to share too much, yet found myself lost in the lust of retelling. "And when he had his climax, it was otherworldly for me at the same time. That's never happened with Charlie."

Joyce raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations, that rarely happens with most married women."

I sat back after I was finished. My nipples tingled inside my bra, and my Nethers were heated and moistening. I was glad to be wearing a pad. The retelling brought back my desire, who brought her friend immorality. "And before you ask, yes, I am planning on doing it again. It is too wonderful to give up."

Joyce made a show of fanning herself. "That is - I am envious. How can I help?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I am guessing that you were nervous, even petrified at being caught, both here and in your classroom. You need a neutral space. You can use my sister, Karol's apartment. She's in Pennsylvania with her work until the holidays. I have been collecting her mail and watering the plants. It is perfectly private...and the bed doesn't squeak."

I looked up with a smiling gape, and we both laughed for a good thirty seconds. Joyce raised her eyebrows and winked.

I realized what my friend was risking. "That is incredibly generous and equally mad risky. You could lose your job if it got out you set up a, a love nest of sin."

Joyce laughed at my earnestness. "You are so cute! MaryAnn, you are a changed woman: your entire demeanor is more alive, lighter. I knew you had a lover. And I was so happy for you. Honestly, I think you and Charlie are great together but not soulmates."

My eyes went wide and started to protest but she held up her hand. "Freddy and aren't either, but there's no one else I would want to share a mortgage with. Just my opinion. However, I don't think you can divorce and marry teenage heart throb Oliver Kelly, just enjoy him."

For the next twenty minutes we talked through the pros and cons and made a plan for the next tryst for me and my lover.

***

That evening, to cover the guilt I was feeling around my husband, I had to feign having an inordinate amount of grading. I gave him several warm and passionate kisses to make up for the lack of full attention, yet something was unsettled. Joyce's "opinion" seemed to be manifesting itself right in front of me. Or maybe it was the power of suggestion. Was he actually at Dennis' for a football game?

It didn't help that the first perfect score on the unit test was a paper from one Olivier Kelly.

Joyce's plan was very straightforward. What was not was how to get Oliver informed and onboard. Joyce had convinced me to let her do it; "a supportive third party" would not make him turn tail but would make a boy his age feel taken care of. Thus playing into his maternal need that got me into this whirlwind to start with. Two mommies, so to speak. It felt equal parts manipulative and compassionate.

I waited two days to speak to Oliver. His affect showed settled, more mature, so I assumed Joyce had spoken to him as planned. Rather than keep him after class, he left, and then just before the bell, he stepped back into the room and headed straight for our corner. It had been eight days since we had touched, and the kiss was volcano-heated fervor. Moans and roaming fingers traced familiar territory.

He went for my blouse buttons, and despite my bosom heaving with need, I had to grab his wrists and wetly pull my tongue out of its happy cove. "Wait, Chere! We have to talk."

He smiled and rotated his hands until he was clutching mine between our pressed chests. "Yes, we do, Madame. Mrs. Phillips told me the plan. I was kind of freaked out at first, but something in her face made me trust her. Don't know, she felt... safe." His eyes showed a sweet melancholy, his maternal needs surfacing in the most attractive way.

"And you are okay with this?"

He lit up. "You kidding? It'll be like our own Playboy Mansion!"

"Olivier, don't be crass. I hope it will be..." I pushed forward and kissed him softly, "romantic and safe."

He sighed into my mouth as our pelvises tried to take matters over.

"Tomorrow, she will pick you up at the A and P parking lot after school and bring you to the apartment. I will already be waiting for you."

"And I am going to tell Mom that Mrs. Phillips needs her leaves raked." He looked positively James Bond.

I giggled. We touched foreheads, my new red barrette tapping his hairline. "I cannot wait to feel you inside me again."

The poor thing shook with excitement and let out a ragged laugh. "That was mean!" He then kissed me hard and ran out the door, Mercury on a mission.

I fell back, gripping a desk to stop me from collapsing with unfettered desire.

***

I paced Karol's apartment living room, my fingers playing with the ribbon on my white chemise. It covered a rather pleasant-looking white bra and panties. Nothing outrageous or centerfold worthy, yet my natural curvaceousness was on full display when I looked in the mirror...for the third time.

I looked at the clock on the wall. He wasn't late by any means; I was just impatiently aroused. I heard a car door and then another. Pulling back the drape, I saw him look around as if someone would recognize. him. Joyce led the way as if it was nothing out of the ordinary for her to be bringing a teenager to her sister Karol's. The key scraped the lock; my heart dropped in my stomach, and my mouth went dry due to all of my moisture pooling in my panties. The door opened, and he stepped inside, his eyes shocked by my appearance.

Behind him, I heard Joyce say, "5:15, Mr. Kelly." And she was gone.

He nodded and closed the door. He was silent, and I struck a more provocative stance, my bust pushing up and forward. "Well...?"

He let out a breath. "I don't know what to— jeez! You-you look like something out of a magazine!"

He was frozen in the entryway, and I seductively stepped toward him and took his hand. I kissed the palm and whispered. "J'ai hâte d'être dans tes bras." (I cannot wait to be in your arms). I could tell he was struggling with the syntax, so I decided I didn't need any more French. I took his hands and put them on my waist, and I kissed him with open-tongued passion. His hands explored my lingerie as if trying to memorize the seams. When his nimble and strong hands took hold of my butt cheeks, I almost fainted from the sensations.

I was already under his shirt, one hand sliding up his smooth, muscular chest, the other at the small of his back just above his waist. He pulled his hands off me, and I helped him remove the shirt. Our lips locked again as his hands massaged the small of my back. I moaned as he pulled me in, and I felt his engorged member throbbing and bracing against my very needy little kitten.

Then Olivier, my sweet lover in training, surprised me by quite deftly undoing my bra. I pulled off his mouth and let out a surprised, “Ohh! Well done, young man. I am very impressed!” He pretended to be all suave. It was quite amusing.

But it didn’t last long as sexual heat took over. I grabbed his hand and almost yanked him into the bedroom. I had the shades pulled, and candles lit just like I had at home.

I backed myself onto the bed and pulled him on top of me.

Heat exploded in my core when his mouth reached my left nipple. His right hand was squeezing around the edges and underneath as his very wet mouth sucked me like a newborn. One of my hands grabbed his curly hair. The other was working on the zipper and button on his blue jeans.

The whole thing was so wonderfully awkward that I was glad when he pulled himself up and stood to remove his jeans and his briefs. I hooked my fingers under my panties, lifted, and slid them off. I tossed them to the side and lay there in nothing but my earrings and lipstick. I purposely left my rings in my purse and the other room.

I was fully prepared for him to want to be inside me immediately. But my young lover had a different agenda. He crawled onto the bed and kissed my belly right below my navel.

“Ohhh my … incroyable!” (amazing/incredible)

He trailed kisses straight down towards my aching want. When he reached my vulva, he traced his tongue tip along the edges of my nicely trimmed hair. I opened my legs, and he kissed the sweet spot right next to my thigh that makes me go crazy. He kissed hard, almost sucking me in. I know I was flowing even more now, desperate to have something inside me. He ran his fingertips up and down my swollen lips as if reading my pulse. He sighed in awe as he painted my swollen labia with my own excretions, making sure my clitoris was shining and buzzing

I took his head and pushed it forward. It was brazen and lustful, but he needed direction.

“Taste me, Chere! Mangez-vous!” (Eat!)

He opened his mouth and engulfed me in the most passionate suck. My pearl pulsed, and I wantonly ground my hips up and down.

His face was slick with my honey. His moans vibrated through me, lighting my fuse! He was hitting everything everywhere. He looked at me with his beautiful brown eyes, and I simply shook with a delicious sigh. He took two fingers and slid them inside my heat: muscles pulsing around him, gripping, and drawing him in. He moved his fingers around in circles, hitting my special spot with each pass. I whimpered every time, betraying that I was very close.

“Ohhh, Olivier! C’est très bien! Plus, plus, plus!” (That’s very good, more, more, more!)

I imploded: my back arched, both hands grabbed his head, and held him tight. My breath held, and my heart raced. Sensations flew up my spine and burst like dozens of flowers fastened out of light. I breathed in and screamed in ecstasy. My body collapsed on the bed and my thighs shook like a person in a religious trance.

"OHHuuunnnghhh!"

As I was coming down, my voice became nothing but whimpers. "mm, mm, mm, oui, oui, c’est perfection.” (yes, yes, it's perfection)

I opened my eyes only to find a very wet, red, and lust-filled face right above mine. Not caring about any type of cleanup, I kissed him with an open mouth and a flailing tongue. I was not going to wait for any more recovery. I lifted my legs and reached between us. My lips never let go of his mouth as I clamped onto his very wet and almost burning erection. Within moments, this virile and stunningly beautiful young man was driving in and out of me as if to push right through me.

Another orgasm hit me. They were no longer climaxes because that implied reaching a goal and letting it subside. I planned on breaking my record with this beautiful lover. He just didn’t know it yet.

We kissed each other anywhere we could reach. He bent his body to take another breast in. His favorite. I laughed in sublime ecstasy, and how beautiful he was suckling, trying to draw milk that didn’t exist. I was fully embracing the maternal perversion, and it only drove my arousal to more immoral levels.

“Chere! Chere!” I was loud to get his attention and he stopped thrusting. Holding himself deep and pulsing, he was predicting his own release.

"Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. I want to try something completely different. I’ve only done it once and I felt very wicked afterwards. But with you, I think it will be perfect.”

His face turned into nothing but a grin as he lifted himself up and off me. I took a deep breath and turned myself over onto my knees and elbows. My bottom stuck out lewdly as I spread my knees. He let out a low whistle of disbelief but did not hesitate.

He got behind me, and I gripped a pillow. I knew there would be no pain. I was just preparing myself for what I expected to be the hottest coupling of my life to this point.

"OOO Gawwwd..."

Once inside me, he held onto my formidable hips and began slow and deep thrusting. His moans dropped an octave, and my own voice disappeared.

I grunted to get my voice back, but it came out as a rhythmic gasp. "Fassster… I think you can go faster. I want you to gooo...!"

He went into Le Mans level gear and my brain almost short-circuited. For the next few minutes, my orgasm never left me. It was as if it reached a plateau and refused to drop off. I shook, spasmed, whimpered, and even screamed in an attempt to break it, but it refused to let me go. It was during this moment that I had a strange vision. I wanted this young man to fill me with his seed. I wanted there to be insemination, fertilization, whatever you would call it.

“Oh oui, mon chéri. S'il te plaît, remplis-moi. Je te veux tout entier. Donne-moi ta semence.”

(“Oh yes, my darling. Please, fill me up. I want all of you. Give your seed to me.”)

Even as it was coming out of my mouth, I knew it was horrifyingly wrong. I knew it would be a job-ending scandal. It certainly could run this young man’s life forever, yet my body didn’t care.

With a grunt that rivaled any sound I’ve ever heard a man make in bed, my young lover fired off gushes of manly fluids.

My orgasm finally broke, and my body came undone. My arms collapsed, and I fell forward onto the sheets. That action caused him to pull out and he himself fell over right next to me on the bed.

We lay panting, neither one of us wanting to speak nor lose the moment.

***

We were both fully dressed and sitting together, holding hands on the couch. We were caressing each other and giving soft kisses. We were showered and hopefully free of any evidence. Joyce had said to leave the bedding and she would get it later. What a great friend.

It was sadly near time for her to pick up my young, amazing lover, and I didn’t want him to leave.

He spoke softly, “Wow, Madame, that last one was pretty incredible. I thought you were sexy already, but… Wow!”

Strangely, I blushed and smiled. It had been incredible. The third time we copulated, I decided to be on top. Just like when we had done the doggy style, this was only the second time I had done this with someone other than my husband.

Riding on top of this gorgeous young man, I was able to grind myself in just the right way. I admit I was attempting to chase after the plateau of orgasm I had received earlier, yet I could not quite get there.

What he was referring to was me playing with my own breasts and nipples the whole time. This had not been a regular thing for me, even when I masturbated. But seeing how much he adored my breasts, I wanted to put on a show. I wanted to please him more than any lover I have ever had.

My lover, oui.

I was falling in love with him, and it was a dangerously beautiful cliff to be standing on.

We began to kiss again when I heard a car door close. 5:15 precisely.

We pulled back and touched foreheads.

He whispered softly, “I love you, Madame.” And I froze.

The silence after made him suddenly panic, and he pulled back with a frightened look on his face.

“I shouldn’t have said that!”

“No, no, it’s OK, sweetheart. It’s OK. I just... I don’t know if I can say it.” I took a deep breath. “But I certainly feel it. This flight of romance has only been two weeks and I’m not even sure where we're going to land. But I do know I want you. All of you, Chere, please believe me.”

I took his face in my hands and kissed him softly. He smiled back, his eyes settling a bit.

Moments later, he was heading out, and I was preparing to do the same. The plan was that I would call Joyce when I returned home before Charlie arrived and tell her everything.

I would leave out the last moment of my teenage lover’s confession.

And no one would ever know my secret desire to bear his child.

Mon Dieu!

To be continued…

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Merci, Matt