Brad, Robert and Lilith's son, is introduced. Lilith takes out her frustrations by flirting with the security guard, Mark and even her own son Brad, who is home from college for a couple weeks during the summer break. Lilith's troubles compoind.
* * * Chapter 2 * * *
Lilith:
Brad is very different from his father. He is the same height, but he has almost 20 pounds on his dad, none of it fat. He is into sports, and exudes testosterone. Sometimes I think I can smell it in the air around him. I have noticed that he has a significant bulge between his legs. His hands are large and I have heard that if a man has large hands, he will also have a large dick. I know this is bad for a mom to think like this, but I imagine Brad has a fat cock. As if summoned by my thoughts, I hear Brad coming down the hall.
“Mornin’” I say without looking up when I sense Brad, brought up short in the bathroom doorway. My long legs are crossed and I look at my reflection in the mirror, imagining the view that Brad is enjoying. While I am not nude, exhibitions in sexy lingerie are not the norm in this house.
For a long moment, Brad doesn’t say a thing. Finally, I look up and make eye contact. “Morning, mom”, he says in a voice that is a little higher than I expected.
Walking into the bathroom, he stands behind me, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Glancing up at him, I catch him looking down over my shoulder. Is he trying to look down into my bra? It is low and made of semi transparent lace. I smile at him and say, “I should have breakfast ready in twenty minutes. You hungry?”
“Sure”, he replies, moving past me to the toilet and raising the lid. I wait for the sound of him urinating, but it takes a while for him to start his stream. I wonder if he has a boner? It's not right for a good mother to think these thoughts, but it brings a filthy smile to my lips, regardless. Slipping on my robe, I go into the kitchen to fry some bacon and make some pancakes.
The crackling bacon makes my mouth water and I am surprised that it hasn't drawn Brad downstairs yet. Fellows his age put away a lot of food, especially at breakfast time. I call for Brad to come to breakfast, but he doesn't answer. Making my way up the stairs to his room, I stop outside and raise my hand to knock. Hearing strange noises from within, I pause, fist poised in the air, listening. Realization dawns and I feel prickles down my neck; Brad is masterbating! Backing away from the door, I smile like a cat with a mouse, realizing that I am likely the cause of him doing that. I should be ashamed, but instead it makes me proud that I can have that effect on him. It's just a little harmless flirting.
While waiting for Brad to come to breakfast, I wonder what he is thinking about while he is stroking so frantically up in his room? Is he imagining me naked? Is he visualizing himself touching my boobs? Or is he imagining doing even bolder things with me? Perversely, I hope so. I hear that some guys even snitch their mother’s panties to sniff while they masturbate. Could Brad have gotten a pair of mine? I am amazed to find that the thought turns me on.
My depraved thoughts wander to another little flirting game that I have going on at work for the past couple of weeks. My Yoga and Tai Chi studio is in a newly renovated space uptown. I come and go through a rear employee entrance. Sitting behind a desk by the door is Mark, the security guard. He is a big burly man with dark hair.
Walking past his desk every morning, I noticed that he checks out my legs and ass as I walk past his desk. He always calls out “good morning” in greeting, trying to get my attention. Since noticing this, my hips gyrate more as I strut past his desk. I have made it a habit of opening a couple extra buttons at the top of my blouse as I approach the back of the building. He has noticed the escalation in my flirtation and I can feel his eyes follow me as I move down the hall. I have noticed the bulge in his pants and I wonder if he is packing a nice, fat dick. It was said back in high school that some of the jocks would roll up a sock and place it in their underwear, to make girls think they are packing huge cocks. I’m not sure if that was real, or did the girls just say that to make themselves feel better for stuffing their bras with toilet paper? When I see his bulge I want to stop and squeeze it through his pants, just to see if it is real. I would never do that, of course, but a girl can dream.
The door behind his desk opens into a supply room. He keeps tools and supplies needed to maintain the building in there. I once followed him there to get a light bulb for my studio. While in there with him, I thought about how convenient that space would be if he ever wanted to make out with someone in private. He is the only one in the building that keeps a key to that room. I fantasize about checking out his bulge in that room.
During breakfast Brad sits across from me and we chat as we eat. He looks at me with a greater intensity than usual. What is he thinking? I'll bet he is undressing me with his eyes. His gaze is unsettling and I try to steer his thoughts in a different direction. “How is it going with you and Linda?” I ask. Linda is Brad's love interest. They have been sweethearts since High School and are getting serious. They have been talking about getting a place together after college.
When I ask about Linda, he looks down at his pancake and seems to wither, ”We broke up. At least for now.” He says, clearly devastated about it.
I’m shocked. “What happened?” I ask.
“I dunno, really. She said that for the summer we should see other people, so we can figure things out. I think she is afraid that we are only staying together because we have been together for so long.” He says with resignation.
“You'll get back together when school starts back, won't you?” I ask.
“That’s what I have been telling myself. But I have a niggling fear that she will fall for someone else in the meantime and that we might be done as a couple.”
I can tell that he is worried. “I think you two will get back together when school starts in a few days and will be stronger than ever.” I try to reassure him. I like Linda. She is a lot like I was at that age. I hope they get back together.
Slipping away to my bedroom, the morning light filters through the curtains, like a gentle nudge to get on with my day. There among the drawers and hangers lies whispered possibilities. Reaching for a pretty sundress, a smile brightens my face. I like to dress up like a lady for work. This dress is short which emphasizes my long legs and the top shows generous cleavage. It makes me look ten years younger and makes me feel sexy. It is pale yellow with a subtle sunflower print that goes well with my tanned skin and blonde hair. It should go well with the gold colored bra and panties that I already slipped into before I left my bedroom. Before I begin my classes, I will have to switch the outfit at work for skin tight leggings, tank top, some stretchy panties that won't crawl up my crack when doing my moves and a sports bra to keep the girls under control.
When I reach the studio, I ease my car into my favorite slot out back. A familiar hum of anticipation is already coiling low in my belly at the thought of Mark. I push through the employee entrance, the door's creak announcing me before I even pass inside, and there he is— lounging at his desk just inside, all lazy sprawl and quiet command. His wolfish smile unfurls as his eyes rake over me, dark and deliberate, from my flowing hair down to the sway of my hips. He's leaned back in his chair, boots crossed at the ankles on the desk like he owns the whole place, the muscles in his thighs flexing just enough in his uniform to make my breath hitch. A scarred wooden counter divides us, but it's no barrier.
“Hey, Lilith.” That deep, sexy voice rumbles, wrapping itself around my heart. “How's it going?”
Turning aside, I lean my elbows on the counter, knowing this position enhances the open view of my neckline— the sheer lace of my bra just waiting to be noticed. His eyes flick down and linger; I pretend not to notice, though the heat of his stare makes my skin prickle. “Not bad.” I reply to his question. “Nice to see my favorite eye candy protecting the fort, as usual.” Looking at him through lowered lashes, I dial up every ounce of feminine charm that I possess.
Mark drops his feet from the desk and rises, coming up to the counter where I am standing with deliberate slowness— closing the distance, closing in on me, eyes never leaving mine.
Instinct tells me to step back, but my body betrays me— I’m too hot this morning, too keyed up, secretly hoping he’ll dare to touch me. “You’re not looking so bad yourself,” he says, voice quieter now, his gaze sliding down my body. “That sundress ought to come with a warning.” He leans an elbow on the counter, close enough that our arms nearly brush.
His fingertip skims my cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear. The touch is light, fleeting— but it jolts straight through me, and suddenly the little security area feels stifling with heat. His gaze roams openly over me, and when I meet his eyes, I smile, inviting him to take it further. But he only watches, silent and unmoving.
The silence tightens around us, thick with everything he won’t let himself say. Is he holding his breath? I watch the moment swallow him whole. He doesn’t move because if he does, he’ll do something he can’t take back, and we both know it.
“Guess I should get going,” I murmur, letting a slow, sultry warmth ride my voice.
I turn away, my hips swaying in a rhythm designed to be watched. The kind that could justify a sin if he were looking for excuses, and I know that he is.
My keys slip from my fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp metallic clatter.
Mark inhales— hard.
I bend at the waist, unhurried. The hem of my dress slides up my thighs, enough to tease the curve beneath, enough to reveal the soft gold lace resting against my skin. Not fully, but enough to make imagination a weapon.
Behind me, a sound escapes him— a low, guttural exhale, caught somewhere between pain and hunger. When I straighten, I turn just enough to see him.
I rise slowly, smoothing my dress down with lazy hands, and glance back over my shoulder. His eyes are locked on me, dark, dilated, starving.
He’s leaning across the counter as if it's the only thing holding him back. His chest rises and falls; his throat works around a swallow. His hands grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white with the effort of restraint. He’s inches— inches— from coming around the counter to scoop me up.
“Everything alright, Mark?” I ask softly, faining innocence I don’t feel for a second.
He drags his gaze up my body, slow, helpless, devouring every inch on its way to my face. When our eyes meet, I can see the unfiltered want; raw. hot. And under it— fear. Not enough to stop him quickly. Only enough to stop him at the very last second.
"What you do to me..." Mark says, his throat tight.
I smile, slow and wicked. “Do what?”
He swallows so hard his throat clicks. “You’re… fucking evil,” he rasps.
I step closer— just a breath away— and let my lips curve. “Have a very good day, Mark.” Then I walk away, letting him stand there trembling with the kind of hunger that won’t fade anytime soon.
I have never cheated on Robert before— I never even seriously looked at another man in twenty-three years— but our marriage is getting stale and I am feeling neglected. We got married young and I never even finished college. Neither of us did a lot of dating, so we have limited experience with other people. I sometimes wonder what I even brought to the table besides a tight waist and eagerness to please. After we got married, children soon followed. That’s just how it was done back then. With the children our energy and attention shifted quickly to family life. Maybe too quickly. Maybe it would have been better if we had more time to focus on each other before the kids came along— before stretch marks and nursing bras and ten years of sleeping in oversized T-shirts because sexy nighties felt ridiculous once the baby monitor was glowing red on the nightstand.
Sometimes I wonder if Robert wishes he had more time to experiment before we married. Maybe he wishes he could have sampled more women? Maybe he is bored with me? I catch him looking at waitresses sometimes— not leering, just… looking a second too long— and I hate how my stomach knots. Is he still even in love with me? I have wondered if he has a piece on the side. Sometimes I think the signs are there, and sometimes I don’t think he has it in him. Robert is not a good liar; his ears go red every time. Come to think of it, a little infidelity might shake things up and make our marriage better. Or at least make me feel alive again. At any rate, I need more adventure in my life. Now that the kids are gone from home, my libido is growing steadily— embarrassingly so. I’ll be folding laundry and suddenly remember what it felt like to be wanted so badly that someone couldn’t keep their hands off me. I’ll stand there in the laundry room with a pair of his boxers in my hand, wet between my legs for no good reason, wondering if I’m too old for this to even happen anymore.
My mind wanders as I change into my Yoga outfit in my studio locker room. I think about what it might be like to have a three-way with Mark, Robert and I. It might be fun, but it would probably be too intimidating for Robert to be with me and such a big man like Mark. It might make him feel insecure. He has never shown any inclination toward swinging, but I hear that every man fantasizes about making it with two women at the same time.
Looking at my image in the mirror as I dress, my thumbs hook into the waistband, pulling them up. The elastic bites into my flesh just enough to send a shiver racing up my spine. I pull them higher, stretching the leg openings and accentuating the curve of my ass. The fabric pulls taught over my mound, molding obscenely until I can see my soft camel toe in the glass— a forbidden crease that makes my pulse throb hotter between my thighs. With a reluctant sigh, I pull at the fabric, smoothing it down. It releases the tension until the fabric molds to me like a second skin, but hiding my secrets.
Slipping my arms through the straps of my sports bra next, I arch my back to snap the clasp, the compressive fabric hugging my full breasts like possessive hands, but it does little to tame the traitorous peaks— my nipples, hardened from the wicked heat of my thoughts, strain boldly against the thin, stretchy cloth, dark shadows begging for attention.
Turning my body to the right, I study my profile in the mirror, the elegant arch of my spine leading to the proud thrust of my chest— even bound as they are, my breasts project with unapologetic fullness, rounded swells that defy the bra's restraint, evoking those vintage '70s pin-ups with their bullet bras, cones so sharp they could lance a man's defenses from across the room. My rounded, toned ass, the feature which always turns heads of both men and women alike— men with lust and women with envy. Then I remember how Mark looked at my boobs earlier this morning. In my mind I picture him, kissing my breasts, flicking a nipple with his tongue, his large hand cupping my ass…
My thoughts come crashing back to the present. It's a shame that a good looking girl like me can't get all the action that she needs from her own husband. Resentment bubbles up, unbidden, from my inner consciousness towards Robert. I shouldn't feel that way. Robert works hard to pay for ‘the good life’ for us. We live in a nice house in a good neighborhood, and take fun vacations. We are putting two kids through school… It takes a lot. I just feel a little neglected sometimes, that's all.
I have to pull hard on my leggings to get them up my legs. Tugging them into place, I smooth them out until they look nice. Giving my rear a sharp slap, the sting feels good. Robert would never slap me like that, but I bet Mark would.
My classes go well. I love all of my clients and enjoy their enthusiasm which feeds my energy. Still, by the end of the day, I am bushed. It's time to go home and I don't feel like changing back into my sundress. Then I remember Mark, probably waiting by the back door, and begin to get excited again. My mind wanders as I change into my little dress. Would Mark take me and have his way with me if I pushed him hard enough? I bet I stack up better than his wife at home. I check myself in the mirror before leaving, and adjust my tits so that my cleavage is just right. Throwing my purse over my shoulder, I am more than ready to leave work.
Rounding the corner of the dimly lit hallway, the fluorescent hum overhead buzzing, I spot Mark at his post— propped against the counter like a sentinel carved from raw muscle, that damn pen dancing under his thumb in a staccato rhythm that echoes the quickening beat low in my belly. The tapping dies the instant his eyes snag on me. I lift my chin a fraction higher, channeling cool indifference, my gaze fixed straight ahead on the frosted glass door beyond him— aloof, untouchable, though it does nothing to dull the heat his stare ignites along my spine.
Just as I draw level with the counter, close enough to catch the faint spice of his cologne, he flicks his wrist with casual precision, sending the pen skittering off the edge to clatter at my feet— a glossy black temptation like an invitation wrapped in challenge. He's baiting me, the bastard, daring me to dip low and retrieve it, perhaps to reveal the shadowed dip of my cleavage as I bend for him. The thought sparks a flicker of ire in my chest; he's all broad shoulders and easy authority, the kind of man who bends the world to his will without breaking a sweat, who probably savors the surrender in women's eyes. Not today. Not like this.
I won't hand him the reins so easily, so I step over it without flinching, lips pressed in silent defiance as I glide past, the door's cool handle yielding under my palm. In the warped silver reflection of the glass, I catch him— head tilting in disbelief, that chiseled jaw tightening as he straightens, his gaze raking down the line of my back, lingering on the sway of my hips until I'm swallowed by the afternoon light outside. A shiver of victory hums through me, sharp and sweet; let him stew on that, the big oaf. The game's just heating up.
My eyes close and a sigh escapes as I cross the parking lot to my car. I turn the car stereo to some classic rock, in celebration of my defiance. I have a few errands to run on my way home, taking the time to drop into my favorite clothing store. Shopping can be relaxing to me after a day of Yoga and Tai Chi. A little black cocktail dress that I have had my eye on is on sale today, so I snap it up. Robert loves a sleek black dress, and I imagine trying it on for him at bedtime tonight. Perhaps that will be enough to provoke his lust. Stopping in at my favorite Italian bistro, I pick up a large quantity of Robert’s favorite takeout and a nice bottle of wine. I get plenty of food since Brad is home; he has the appetite of a horse.
My phone rings just as I get into the car. It's Robert. I had just been thinking about him reacting to me in my new black cocktail dress so I answer with a sexy, “Hello, babe.” He is silent for a beat and I realize that my greeting surprises him and now I feel embarrassed. He answers, “Hi. Just calling to let you know that I have to go to an early meeting at our Concord branch tomorrow morning. I am driving up this evening to meet with some of my colleagues for cocktails tonight. I will catch a hotel and just stay there for the night so I can be ready for the meeting first thing in the morning.”
“Oh.” I say deflated. “I just got Italian for dinner.” Concord is about a four hour drive from home. These trips to Concord only happen two or three times a year, but the timing could not have been worse.
“I am so sorry, honey.” He says. “I should have called you sooner. I am about an hour and a half into the drive. I didn't want to bother you at work, and the time just got away from me. I can be home early tomorrow night and we can go somewhere nice for dinner. You and Brad can have my Italian food tonight.”
“OK.” I let a little disappointment come into my voice. “I miss you honey.” I say trying to sound resigned.
“I miss you too. Love you, and I'll see you tomorrow night.”
Sighing, I turn the key in the ignition and drive off, my tires emit a quick ‘chirp.’ I guess this means that I will be having a date with my vibrator tonight to relieve some of this sexual tension. Driving towards home, my phone rings again. This time it is Brad. “Hey mom. How was your day at work?”
Still irritated from my call with Robert, I know he did not call to ask about my day. “It was fine, Brad. What's up?”
“Just wanted to let you know that I am going to hang out with Chuck, his girlfriend and his sister tonight. We are going to order some pizza, so don't wait for me for supper.” This is just great. I got all this food and neither one of my men is going to help me eat it. It will be nice for Brad to go out with his friend and a couple of girls. It might help him get over his girlfriend, Linda.
“Is she nice?” I ask.
“What? Who?” Brad asks, incredulous.
“Charles' sister? Is she nice?” I say with interest.
“She's not exactly girlfriend material, if that's what you mean.” He says, exasperation in his voice.
“Okay. Well, you guys have fun. Your father is going to Concord this evening and won't be home until tomorrow night. I will probably go to bed early, so I'll see you in the morning.” As I end the call a let down feeling settles over me and I feel sorry for myself. I guess the house will be empty tonight, except for me.
A sigh escapes my lips. There is the issue of all this food on my hands. “Maybe I will just eat it all. It smells delicious.” I say to myself and let out an ironic laugh. I will do nothing of the sort. That's just the depression talking.
My mind goes back to Robert. He said that he is meeting some colleagues for cocktails. I imagined a bunch of guys going out. What if there are women? He didn't say. I worry that maybe he will take one of them back to his hotel for the night.
Next time, on Morning Sex: Robert goes to an overnight company meeting. Susan, a recent devorcee, has been flirting with him and asks to ride with him. In the mean time, Lilith, annoyed and frustrated, finds herself at Mark's house. Lilith takes bold steps to take what she wants from Mark.