The sun was still high in the sky when I decided to take a breather in the shade of the Beecher's back porch. I sat down heavily on the steps leading to the back yard and looked at my watch. Three hours had passed, but the rest of the sanding had been finished and I had already laid the primer coat down on the front and side porches. I was back on schedule.
The air was hot and still. My gaze wandered aimlessly from the placid pool to the row of empty beach chairs. My encounter with Mrs. Beecher yesterday felt strangely unreal, more like a wet dream than something that had actually happened. But had it really happened that way? Her voice turning low and seductive when she talked about me being a grown man? The naughty double entendres dripping from every sentence? That sexy way she walked to the pool? Had Mrs. Beecher tried to seduce me? Or was it all just an out of control MILF fantasy from the overactive imagination of a horny 19 year old?
The sliding glass doors rumbled open behind me, jarring me from my thoughts. I felt a wave of cool, air conditioned air wash over me.
“Oh, there you are,” said a familiar voice.
I turned quickly to see Mrs. Beecher standing in the open doorway. She was wrapped in what appeared to be a silky red bathrobe. I shot a quick glance at my crotch to make sure there weren't any unexpected bulges before getting to my feet.
“Hello, Mrs. Beecher,” I said, feeling my heart beating a little faster.
“You're looking very hot today, Michael,” she said, her voice taking on a low, sultry tone.
My breath caught in my throat and for a minute I struggled to answer.
“I-I do?” I managed to croak.
“Yes,” she replied, ignoring my awkwardness, “you've been working so hard and it's so frightfully hot out today. I would feel just terrible if you came down with heatstroke. Why don't you come inside for a while and cool off?”
“In-in the house?” I stammered, a little incredulously. The thought of me entering the Beecher's house seemed almost as forbidden as the other thoughts that had been swirling inside my head.
“Well, of course,” she laughed, “Where else would I be talking about?”
“Oh, yeah...” I answered, sheepishly.
Mrs. Beecher turned and went into the house and I followed her, stopping in the doorway to check the bottoms of my shoes for wet primer.
“It's alright, Michael,” she said, laughing as she handed me a tall glass of ice water. “This isn't a museum, you know.”
She could have fooled me. The massive rooms filled with expensive art with shiny tile floors made the place look more like a museum than a house. I sat down cautiously on an overstuffed chair, trying not to bump against any of the expensive looking knickknacks that sat on the end table next to me. Mrs. Beecher settled down in a nearby chair and watched me with the hint of a smile pursed on her lips. I finished my drink quickly and got up to leave.
“Could you do something for me, Michael?” Amanda asked suddenly.
“S-sure” I replied uncertainly.
“The light has gone out in my bathroom and I need to take a shower. I would change the bulb myself, but these ceilings are so beastly high that I can't reach it without a ladder and I don't dare try to climb that rickety thing by myself. Would you be a dear and change it for me? You seem so... capable.”
“I would be happy to,” I said brightly.
Changing a light bulb wouldn't take long and it might even earn Dad some points with Mr. Beecher.
“You're a life saver!” Mrs. Beecher exclaimed. “Follow me, and I'll show you where it is.”
I followed her up a carpeted stairway, trying not to notice how tightly her robe clung to her ample ass. She led me through a spacious bedroom with a large brass bed, and into a bathroom with a high vaulted ceiling. A tall aluminum step ladder stood beneath a burned out lamp. A new bulb sat on a marble washbowl. Mrs. Beecher held the ladder steady as I climbed the stairs.
“Mmm...” I heard Mrs. Beecher purr as I reached the top of the ladder.
I glanced down and saw Amanda looking up at me with an amused smile on her face. With a shock, I suddenly remembered that I wasn't wearing underpants and that I had on loose shorts. Mrs. Beecher was looking up the leg of my pants and could see everything! I felt my face turning red as I fumbled to get the burned out bulb out of the lamp. To make matters worse, the excitement was making me hard and I could feel my dick crawling up my stomach!
I somehow managed to get the burned bulb out and Amanda handed me a new one. I took it, hoping she didn't notice the tent forming in the front of my pants. I replaced the bulb and hurriedly made my way down the ladder. But Mrs. Beecher had placed her hand on the rung of the ladder so that my erection would slide down her hand as I descended. I felt my dick grow another inch as it touched her hand.
“Do I make you horny, Michael?” Amanda asked.
I couldn't answer. I just swallowed hard and nodded.
“Would you like to take your clothes off for me?” she asked.
I didn't respond. I stood there like a statue, my heart pounding in my ears.
“If you take off your clothes, I'll take off my robe,” Mrs. Beecher said, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
I took off my T-shirt and shorts and stood naked in front of her, my cock hard as a flagpole.
Mrs. Beecher licked her lips and smiled. She slowly unfastened her robe and let it fall into the empty tub behind her. She leaned forward a little, letting her enormous breasts dangle in front of her, her nipples already hard. She
