Ocak 28, 2023

Mrs. Bridges

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I threw this together the Sunday after Christmas. The kids had all left, the house was quiet, I’d already checked my eyelids for holes and didn’t want to watch TV. My thoughts went back to 24 hours earlier on Christmas night. All of the littles were in bed asleep, my kids and their spouses were in the dining room playing cards while I tried to snooze in the family room. I woke to laughter and then heard my daughter say, “No, really, I’m not shittin you.” She went on to relate how a local young man in their neighborhood had been shacking up with an older woman for several years before it became public. Though they were both of consenting age, the difference in years created fodder for the local gossip machine.

What my son said is what gave me the idea for this story. His words were, “How desperate are you when you start hosing down the widow next door, the one who babysat you years ago?” That was followed by a chorus of laughter. As they guffawed I thought back to my time as a young man when I worked for a widowed farmers wife in Nebraska. Long story short, though she was over twice my age she had me in her bed in less than three weeks, and that’s where I stayed all summer. Her name was Sarah Langston and was not a knockout in any way, she was average in every sense of the word. I certainly was not about to tell them of my escapade, but their story gave me the idea for this little ditty.

I read stories about the housewives with well-toned butts, a perfect hourglass figure, perky tits, and six pack abs after having children. The reality is that they are few and far between, yet it seems to be the norm in Literotica stories. This isn’t about one of those women, it’s about how most of society looks, average and normal. There will always be those who stand out amongst the rest, but by and large they are the exception and not the rule.

In erotic stories the standard “neighbor lady” is usually portrayed as hot and horny. This one did this, or that one did whatever, the one down the street beds the mailman, yada, yada, yada, it’s never ending. Here’s my story about a lady who lived next door to a young man through most of his formative and several of his young adult years. Unlike most neighbor lady stories it didn’t start when he turned 18. She wasn’t the sexy lady next door in a micro-bikini by the pool waiting to be turned into a cock swallowing slut by the sexy hunk of a teenager living 100 feet away. She didn’t have firm, perky breasts, or a well-toned ass and legs that went to her arm pits, she was just… well… Mrs. Bridges.

Mrs. Bridges

Stella Bridges was twenty-four when she began babysitting me as a four-year-old ankle biting brat. My parents had and were mostly focused on their careers. Mrs. B worked from home and took care of her twins, adding my care for a minimal fee easily fit into her schedule. Her five-year-old twin girls and I got along well, had they not been blonde and me dark haired you wouldn’t have known we weren’t siblings. As a kid I was confused about babies, the girls would talk about how they were going to have a baby brother or sister, Mrs. B’s tummy would get bigger and then it would be flat again, but no baby. It wasn’t until several years later that I learned she had miscarried three times before they stopped trying.

My parents on the other hand were completely absorbed in their careers and wanted no more children. I was it, once and done, as long as Mrs. B was there to take care of me it was no problem. My parents weren’t bad parents by any stretch of the imagination, I never went without, I never felt neglected, and one or both made it to every school activity I was involved with. I just felt a stronger connection to the Bridges family, where I tended to spend most of the time when my parents weren’t home.

Somewhere along the line I began calling Mrs. Bridges Teeda, I have no idea where it came from. I couldn’t call her mom and wanted more than to address her as Mrs. Bridges when I spoke with her, something with more meaning, it became like a code word for “second mom”. Teeda was different than my mom or most others I knew, mine was always dressed professionally unless at home, even then she dressed as though someone was going to pop in unannounced.

I think I saw her in sweats all of three times before she passed, and never in a state of undress whatsoever. I’d seen her underwear and eventually figured out how it all worked, but I’d never seen it on her. Most of the other neighborhood ladies tended to dress along with whatever trend was popular at the time. Teeda, she was different, now that I’m older I realize that she was like a modern version of June Cleaver. The only times I saw her in something other than a dress or skirt and blouse is when she was working in her garden.

The other thing I noticed, but never wondered about, is that unless it was beastly hot and humid she always wore nylons or stockings. It was in my teen years when I figured out what that funny looking garment on the bahçelievler escort clothesline was, thanks to the girls Victoria Secret web site I learned it was a garter belt. Something meant solely for holding up stockings, not panty hose, but nylons or stockings. They soon became my go to inspiration when the pressures of a teenage boy became more than I could withstand, which always ended with me taking things in hand.

My life changed dramatically the summer before my seventeenth birthday. Something my folks and I did do as a family was go to Canada fishing every spring, I found it ironic that two highly skilled scientists would have such a love for fishing. We would drive to a base camp in Canada and then be flown into our destination, always some remote location with a guide and boat. I played baseball in high school, our team had won regionals and was headed for sectionals that year, I wanted to stay home and play ball instead of fish.

Because I often stayed overnight at the Bridges they had long since made a room for me in their finished basement, having somewhere to stay if I didn’t go fishing would not be an issue. Our team was quickly eliminated from sectionals, I was feeling depressed wishing I’d gone fishing with my folks when Sunday morning Teeda came downstairs with tears streaming from her eyes. I couldn’t imagine what may have happened to make her cry like that, the girls were fine, her marriage seemed solid, they never seemed to be without money. What could it be?

I’d been sitting on an old couch in my makeshift room when she walked in, immediately she sat down taking me into her arms, still sobbing and mumbling, “I’m so sorry Jacob, I’m so sorry.” I knew it was bad, she never called me Jacob, it was always Jake. Pushing back enough to escape her embrace I asked.

“What’s wrong Teeda, what happened? Did Mr. Bridges get hurt?”

She took a deep breath, holding it long enough to gain her composure, “No Jake, it’s not us, it’s your folks. The plane crashed and there are no survivors. I’m so sorry.”

A week later Mr. and Mrs. Bridges, the girls and I were in Canada to take possession of the bodies. I wasn’t aware that my folks had listed the Bridges as my guardians should anything happen to them. Their last will and testament also stated they wanted to be cremated and their ashes spread in the Atlantic off the coast of New Foundland. All of their worldly goods would become mine at the age of 21, until then I would have access to a trust fund to be overseen by Mrs. Bridges.

Within a few weeks my childhood home was listed for sale, something inside told me to keep it until I was at least 21. When I told Teeda I would like to live in it one day she took it off the market and leased it to a young couple with two kids. It would be mine when I was an adult and ready to take on the responsibilities of owning a home. I moved into the Bridges home, they graciously finished a half bath I’d been using, adding a shower and a walk-in closet to the room in the basement. Somehow the girls and I became closer over the next year, which was unusual because we were almost joined at the hips anyway.

With them being seniors they opened new doors for me regarding friendships at school. In a way they watched out for me, though I was no one’s patsy, my emotions were still raw as I dealt with the death of my parents. The three of us got along great, they included me in their group of friends and didn’t mind hanging with my closest friends from time to time. Having never seen my mother in any state of undress it took some time to get used to occasionally seeing the girls in long tee shirts with nothing on underneath but panties, their small breasts jiggling as they hurried from here to there.

Neither was buxom, but their nipples somehow always caught my attention. Realizing I was getting an eye full Teeda soon put a stop to that rather enjoyable side show, she made sure the girls were dressed or in a robe from then on. There had been a few occasions where I had seen Teeda in just a slip and bra without her realizing I was in the main part of the house. It was new, and yet it wasn’t, I’d seen enough of that crap on other guys phones that it was no longer a complete mystery to me.

I remember the first and only time I’d looked at porn on my phone, I was 16 and had been caught by my mother. She didn’t get angry, call me a pervert, or attempt to degrade me in any way. She simply took the phone from me, closed the site, deleted it and handed the phone back to me. Holding my hand she looked deep within my sole.

“Honey, that’s not what sex is like. It can be loving and beautiful, or it can be cold and raunchy. Those videos show no love or emotion, it’s no more than animalistic sex. Don’t watch that stuff Jake, it’ll give you a false impression of what an intimate relationship can be. A relationship you’ll have one day with the right girl. I can’t be with you every minute of every day and you’re going bahçelievler escort bayan to do what you’re going to do, but don’t watch this garbage honey.”

There was no berating “talk” from my father, no shady looks from my parents at dinner, no off handed comments. It was over and done in their eyes, trusting me to make the right decision. Which I did, other than the occasional glance at whatever my pervy friends were gawking at I didn’t watch porn. Though I had no sexual inclinations toward the girls or Teeda, being a guy I still found it exciting to see them in their sometimes state of undress without them knowing I was watching.

I learned that what was hanging on the drying racks off the laundry room were delicate underwear and stockings, items not to be tossed in the dryer. They were never present longer than overnight and I didn’t go running my fingers through them, touching and imagining. I would observe as I walked through the room and into the house from the garage, the images of lingerie were being permanently burned into my brain.

I turned 18 just before the twins left for college and I started my senior year. I had always thought the Bridges were happily married and had a good relationship, they seemed affectionate toward one another. Imagine the shock when I was told by Teeda that her husband George wouldn’t be living there any longer, he’d moved away and was living with a much younger woman. It wasn’t unusual for him to be gone three or four days at a time, I assumed it was for his work. My young foolish naïveté was rapidly dissipating.

We made the most of things, she offered for me to sleep in one of the girl’s rooms after they’d left for college, I declined, I enjoyed having my own space away from the rest of the house. Mealtimes were when we conversed the most, we’d update one another on whatever the latest news was in our lives. She began attending my school functions, we mutually agreed it might be more fun doing stuff together instead of us living two different lives in the same house.

One of the first things we did was getting into the routine of grocery shopping together on Saturday afternoons, following lunch at one eatery or another. I had never been a church goer but started going with Teeda and found it wasn’t as repulsive as my folks made it sound. Some teachings I agreed with, some I didn’t, Teeda’s suggestion was, “eat the hay, spit out the sticks”, somehow that clicked with me. The twins didn’t come home for thanksgiving but did for the Christmas holiday. We laughed, played board games and cards, we did puzzles, went ice skating once and generally screwed off the four weeks they were home.

By spring I was more than ready to be done with school, Teeda asked where I thought I might be applying for college. After all, I had a huge education fund that had been set up by my parents before their demise. Trouble was, I had no desire to attend college, tools fit comfortably in my hands, I loved woodworking and wanted to be a finish carpenter. I felt quite comfortable with the idea of attending tech school, at least there I would learn about what I wanted to do for a living and not be bombarded by a mountain of politically correct bullshit.

I would listen to the twins when they came home and wonder where the girls I grew up with had gone, because these two certainly weren’t the same people I’d known before. It didn’t seem to matter what cause there was, they got involved, I’d overheard Teeda say more than once she feared her money was being wasted in their supposed education. But I digress. Teeda said very little about me carrying on with some sort of secondary education until a few weeks before my graduation.

At supper one evening the conversation began, “Are you serious about being a finish carpenter Jake. I know they make good money if they’re good at their job, but is that what you want to spend the next 50 years doing?”

I addressed her in a manner I only used when I was dead serious about something, “Mrs B, I may not do that my entire life, in fact I’d like to become a contractor at some point, but I need to start somewhere. Less than 30% of all college graduates have a job in their field of degree, so I have to ask, what was the purpose of those four or five years and a mountain of debt? If it’s just to party and have sex, hell, you can do that stuff for a lot less money. That’s not what I want.”

She finished eating, settled back and looked me in the eye, “Then do that Jake. Go to tech and learn a trade, dear me, everyone knows they’re dying. College isn’t for everyone and if you know what you want, then go for it, do what you love instead of what you must. Never mind the naysayers, there always seems to be an overabundance of them, do what’s in your heart.”

Though Teeda had always shown me affection it was never more than a sideways hug or pat on the back, other than when she told me my parents had died. The day I graduated that changed, when we escort bahçelievler were dismissed I went looking for her, to my surprise she found me first. With her arms open wide and a beaming smile she walked toward me, I wasn’t sure what to do until she put her arms around my shoulders and hugged me, I reciprocated.

Holding me at arm’s length she spoke softly, “I’m so proud of you jake. Not only do you have a high GPA you’ve been on the honor roll since your junior year, that’s impressive. You’ve become quite a handsome young man, there’s a bright future for you, I can feel it inside.”

It was when she hugged me from the front that I realized for the first time she was more than the lady who’d changed my britches, taught me to wipe my hind end, helped me learn to get dressed and later became the mom who had been stolen from me. She was a woman, a handsome woman I might add. I’d never felt her breasts press against me before or smelled the delicate fragrance of her soft curly hair, nor become intoxicated by the hint of enticing fun as I breathed in her perfume.

Someone called her name, as she turned walking toward that voice the swish, swish of her stockings seemed like it had been on the loudspeakers. Watching her walk away from the back I noticed the roundness of her butt, not too big, not too small, the perfect amount of padding to go with her mommy hips and slender waist. I caught myself thinking, “how had I never seen this woman before?” It didn’t matter, she was my Teeda, and though I wasn’t her son, nothing would ever happen to betray her trust in me.

I had decided on a gap year after graduation, I was sick of classrooms and school as a whole. I found a job at a local cabinetmaker and asked for Teeda’s help with my finances in order to buy an older used pickup. I certainly didn’t need new. Every day when I would get home, I would look at my old house and say to myself, “You’re still mine, I’m gonna live in you some day.”

At a pool party I met a girl and we seemed to hit it off. We dated but not steadily, every three or four weeks we’d go out and do something. There’d been some touchy, feely stuff but nothing serious, she appeared to want more, it was me who was uncertain. Yeah, I was a virgin, no I didn’t want to remain that way much longer, but there was something not right and I couldn’t put my finger on it. That is until supper one evening.

Teeda was washing dishes, I was drying, “Jake, how long have you been going out with the Minx girl?”

“Mmm, off and on for a couple of months. Why?”

“Are you sleeping with her Jake?”

“No, I think she wants to, it’s me who’s holding back. Again, why?”

With her hands in the water she stopped moving, sighed heavily and looked at me sideways.

“Because her last name describes who she is. She has quite a reputation, heaven only knows what’s growing in that petri dish between her legs. I don’t cotton to gossip, but when you’re stuck listening to someone in the chair next to you at the beauty shop it’s hard not to hear all the juicy news. I have but one thing to say jake, keep it in your pants.”

I was quiet the rest of the time we did dishes. Later while in my room reading I heard her footsteps coming down the stairs. Knocking softly on the opened door she stuck her head in.

“Want company?” She asked.

I moved over so she could sit, “Okay Jake, what’s going on in that mind of yours?”

Like a knob I said, “Nothing.”

She lightly punched my arm and snickered, “Nothing my foot, I know you inside and out. Don’t forget I used to wipe your little butt and give you a bath. Let’s try this again, what’s going on inside your head?”

I knew I didn’t need to be embarrassed, and yet I felt that way. She gave me another nudge on the arm I relinquished.

“Teeda, I didn’t know that stuff about Susan Minx and I’m glad I didn’t have sex with her, but I don’t want to be the only virgin in town either.”

She put her hand on my arm, “You aren’t, trust me, the right woman will come along and when it’s the right time you’ll know it. Don’t rush things Jake, you’re only just 19. Until you do meet that girl, how about this, I’ll be your girlfriend, if anybody asks you can tell them you have a steady girl and her name is Stella.”

My head snapped back, she laughed, “Yes, that’s my given name. How you came to call me Teeda is beyond me. It seems right though since all the nieces and nephews have now adopted it. See what you started young man?” She said continuing her laughing spell.

I snuggled sideways to her in an exaggerated manner, leaning my head against hers I spoke softly, “You’ve always been my number one girl Mrs. B.”

She stood, blew me a kiss and left. Our routines continued as they had been, we’d gotten into the habit of going out every Friday for supper. Most of the time it was a national chain type place, every five or six weeks we’d splurge and go somewhere swanky. She would dress up extra pretty, I would put on something other than jeans, we’d walk arm in arm into wherever as if we were somebody special.

I’d been working at Karl’s Cabinets about nine months when Teeda asked if I thought I could get away for a few days. Up to that point I had never taken a day off, Karl was okay with me making a long weekend of Thursday through Sunday. At supper I told her I could get away and asked what the occasion might be.

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