Matt’s Eyes

By Stevesaint

 

 

Used by permission of the author’s estate

© 2005 STEVESAINT

 

 

NN

Life as I knew it was over when I looked into his eyes that day.  Those beautiful blue eyes, seeming to glimpse deep down into my soul—eyes of cool fire that wrecked my life.

 

My name is Jeanine Oliver.   Before that day, I had been happily married (really!) for over 18 years, although I’ve experienced some angst lately from celebrating (?) my 40th birthday.  I have one child, a daughter named Marie, who’s a 17-year-old high school senior.  My husband says I have good genes, his way of complementing me on keeping a youthful shape.  The truth of the matter is I work at it, exercising regularly—some would say religiously—either at home or at the gym.  No bragging, but my younger sister no longer wants to be seen with me at the beach; she says I look too good in a bikini.  My husband, Jim, still has the hots for me; we make love often, but not as frequently as when we were first married, I must admit.

 

NN

 

The day that changed my life was the day Marie brought her new boyfriend home to meet Jim and me.  She appeared to be smitten with him.  Matt had been seeing Marie for a few months now, and had asked if he could escort her to her senior prom.  Since he was in college and a couple of years older than Marie, we wanted to meet him first.  Marie arranged to bring Matt over later in the day, so I used the intervening time to do some cleaning around the house.  I put on my favorite, comfortable pink bikini and started cleaning. 

 

I was out back, tidying around the pool, when I heard Marie call out for me from the front of the house.  Oh shit, they’re early; well, Marie could show Matt around the house while we waited for Jim, and I could change out of my suit.  I responded to Marie’s call by hollering for them to meet me by the pool. 

 

When Matt walked through the patio door, my heart stopped.  Oh God!  Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, lean yet muscular, and nicely tanned—he was something to look at.  And he was certainly looking at me.  I could have been naked the way he was checking me out from head to toe.  When those fantastic blue eyes locked onto mine I could feel the heat spread through me; sensing my nipples harden, feeling like a hive of bees buzzing around and through me.  I stammered an “excuse me” and quickly went to the bedroom to change.  I kept imagining those eyes and that body.  When I slid out of my bikini bottoms, I was amazed to find the whole crotch area soaking wet.  I reached down and probed my vulva.  I was so wet my fingers practically fell between my well-lubricated labia; I thought of Matt’s eyes and body—what would it be like to have him touch me, I wondered?  I imagined Matt’s naked body over me as I masturbated to a quick climax.  Have I ever had an orgasm so intense?  What got over me? 

 

I gathered my senses, got dressed and went downstairs to speak with Marie and Matt.  Could they see my post-climactic glow?  Matt was polite, but I could see the way he was looking at me—or was it just my overheated imagination?  I tried not to look directly into his eyes, or I knew I’d swoon.  Marie was oblivious to my distress, though, as all her attention was on Matt and you couldn’t blame her.  Maybe I was lucky Jim wasn’t home yet.  After some small talk, I let Marie know I approved of Matt (if only she knew how much!) and that she could go to the prom with him. 

 

When Jim finally got home, the kids were gone.  He asked me what I thought of Matt, and I answered, “He seems to be a nice young man.”  I hoped he didn’t see on my face what was in my mind.  Later that night in bed, I believe I surprised Jim by the ferociousness with which we made love.  Fantasy-Matt was my lover, not my husband.

 

In the weeks leading up to the prom, I realized my growing jealousy of my own daughter: she would have Matt, not me.  That’s right; instead of being a mother and worrying about prom night, I was jealous Matt would fuck her and not me.  Could I really be in heat over a man I’d met once and was young enough to be my son? 

 

The night of the prom, I was just as fidgety-nervous as Marie.  When Matt arrived at our front door, and I looked into those eyes once again, I needed all my willpower not to jump his bones right there in the foyer.  After they left, I excused myself from Jim and headed to the bathroom upstairs, where I feverishly masturbated.

 

I knew something was wrong when I saw Marie late the next morning.  Marie and I had a pretty good mother/daughter relationship; I knew she wasn’t a virgin and I made sure she was on the pill, so I wondered what was bothering her (did Matt hurt her?)   I waited for an opportune moment to ask Marie what was wrong.  To my surprise, she explained she was very much in love with Matt, that although they had had sex before (I could feel the jealousy rising again, overpowering my motherly instincts) Matt seemed to have lost interest lately and didn’t want to make love to her after the prom.  Marie didn’t believe he had another girlfriend, since Matt had been spending the same amount of time with her than earlier.  She did believe she was losing him for some reason. 

 

My God, was I the reason for his sudden change of interest?  I found it hard to believe, but the thought did intrigue me.  I couldn’t shake the fantasy of Matt taking me in his arms and fucking me silly.  Was this just my libido talking?  I consoled Marie with soothing, motherly words, yet at the same time I was beginning to think of making my fantasies come true.  The mother in me wanted to put Matt to the test; the woman in me wanted him to fail.

 

NN

 

A week and a half following the prom, I invited Matt over to the house to talk, hinting, but not actually saying Marie would be home.  I knew Marie had classes all day and Matt only had an early morning class, and Jim of course would be in the office. I wore my shortest shorts and an old halter-top without a bra.  When I answered the door for Matt, it was clear he was both surprised and turned-on by what he saw.  He was wearing shorts and a loose fitting polo shirt.  I invited him in and offered him a beer, even though I knew he was underage.  He must have thought it was a trap, as he refused it.  I had him sit on the sofa and I sat next to him.  Stop looking into those eyes or you’ll lose itgot to keep cool Jeanine, I kept thinking. 

 

We talked of college, Marie, Marie’s future, and his life growing up.  While we talked, I focused on Matt’s hands: somewhat out-of-proportion larger than the rest of him.  I was thinking: is it true what they say about men’s hands and feet?  I drew a mental image of a long, thick cock coiled in Matt’s pants.  I must have been momentarily overcome by the fantasy image, since when I refocused on Matt he was looking at me strangely (had I made a noise?)  I couldn’t help it; I wanted him to take me.  My nipples were taut and tingly (I was sure he could see them through my thin top), and my pussy was soaking wet (could he smell my woman-musk?)

 

“Are you OK, Mrs. Oliver?” Matt said, sounding innocent enough, though he wasn’t blind.  He could see my arousal.  “Can I get you something?”

 

“I’m good.”  (Good and ready to have you fuck me, I thought.) 

 

I moved closer to him on the sofa, placing a hand on his bare thigh.  He didn’t know how to respond.  I could see it in his face—go for it, or play it safe?  The growing bulge in his shorts told me all.  My mind flashed back to how he stared at me in my bikini the first time we met.  “We have the whole day to ourselves, Matt,” I whispered, my voice growing hoarse from anticipation.  “I’m yours…take me.”

 

Matt’s eyes bulged in response to my directness, yet his eyes weren’t the only thing bulging.  I leaned into him, gazed into his eyes, and I was gone.  My tongue darted into his mouth as I caressed the swelling in his shorts.  In his excitement, he fumbled with my halter-top, but couldn’t get it undone.  I stopped him, arose from the sofa, took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom.  Motioning for him to stand still, I faced him and dropped the halter to the floor, freeing my breasts.  Larger and pointier than Marie’s, my breasts with their dark, protruding nipples had Matt mesmerized.  When he reached to touch them, I shook my head ‘no’ and in a husky, aroused voice asked him to remove his shirt.  With his shirt off, I leaned into him and kissed him again, pressing my tingling nipples into his chest.  I undid his shorts and let them fall to his ankles.  When I sank to my knees to remove his briefs, I was stunned and exhilarated by what was in front of me.  The outline of his erect cock was immense, with its head poking out above the waistline.  I slid down the briefs and embraced his magnificent member.  My hands and then my lips played over its full length.  I WANT THIS IN ME played like a mantra in my brain; I’d never felt like this before—total abandonment of will.

 

He was breathing hard, wanting me to suck him, but I didn’t.  Rising from my knees, I dropped my shorts and wet panties to the floor and got on my hands and knees on the bed, nodding for him to join me (quick!)  He awkwardly kicked off his sneakers and the shorts that were gathered around his ankles, and hastily got behind me.  I was wet and ready—no foreplay required. 

 

Without hesitation, Matt entered me and began his rhythmic thrusts.  Every sense was on overload: I smelled the musk of my womanly juices; I looked back into his blue eyes; I heard myself making small keening sounds as I felt his cock stretch me and fill me.  His pace quickened as he neared climax. 

 

When I screamed “aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAH” in an ever-louder crescendo, a part of my overloaded mind realized this orgasm really began when he first penetrated me, all I just did was hit a new plateau, one I’d never experienced before in my life.  Matt made a series of grunting noises then his whole body shuddered as he ground his pelvis into my ass and shot his load deep into me.  I felt at least 6 or 7 spasms inside my vagina—wow, did he really cum that much?  Amazingly, that final deep thrust and the pulsing of his climax again took me over the edge, my new orgasm so intense I almost passed out. 

 

We fell to the bed and lay there a while, arms, legs and torsos entwined in a sweaty knot of spent flesh.  I felt the ooze of his cum and my juices leak from me down the crack of my ass, and it FELT GOOD.

 

“I, ah, ah…Mrs. Oliver…I never…ah…Marie…ah…”

 

“Sssh” I whispered to him, holding an index finger to my lips.  “Matt, that was the best fuck I’ve ever had,” surprising myself with the blunt words.  “You are not going to leave this house today until you fuck me some more...understood?”

 

He muttered a few rather incomprehensible phrases, trying to get his mind around the idea that not only had he just fucked his girlfriend’s mother, but she also wanted more today!  I cut off his mumbling by kissing him full on the lips, plunging my tongue into his mouth.  I was usually a closed-eyes kisser, but today all I wanted to do was gaze into those eyes of his, which is what I did.  During our kiss, I felt his cock begin to stir anew.

 

 I broke away and jumped out of bed, pulling him with me.  “Let’s go take a shower, ok,” I said teasingly as I led him to the master bath. 

 

Because of our rush to intercourse, we are only now able to take full measure of each other’s body.  The way Matt was looking at me sent dizzying waves of heat through me—the thrill of not being the least bit self-conscious of showing off my 40-year-old physique.  My pride turned to lust as I looked over Matt’s body.  He was every woman’s dream: young, tanned, tight, nice ass, and 8-9 inches of very thick manhood between his legs.  My pussy was dripping again.  I grabbed his cock and pulled him into the shower stall.  After adjusting the water to a low spray, I fell into him and we kissed, keeping my eyes open and looking into his baby blues.  I reached for the soap and handed it to him.  He began to lather my body, spending an inordinate amount of time rubbing soap on and around my breasts.  He was obviously taken by my ample chest, his cock growing as he soaped me.  The attention to my sensitive breasts and hard nipples was getting me going too. 

 

“Fuck me,” is all I managed to moan as I turned and—bent over and grasping the shower controls—offered my ass to him. 

 

He rubbed the head of his cock over my clit a few times while positioning himself for entry.  When one or two of these ‘passes’ stroked my anus, I was electrified. Before he even gets the head between my labia, I groaned “Oh God, I’m cumming,” and slammed my ass back at him, impaling myself on his cock.  He was surprised by my quick climax so he didn’t immediately pick up the rhythm.  I was on fire.  My orgasm seemed to be ongoing (is that possible?) as my insides continued clenching and rippling. 

 

One thought, and one thought only, was in my brain—I NEED HIM IN MY ASS.  After watching an X-rated video on one occasion, my husband Jim took me anally, but it was clumsy and messy and, although I liked it we never did it again.  This was different.  I reached behind me and pushed Matt out.  Before he could react, I grabbed his hard cock, placed the pre-cum-lubricated head at my anus and sort of wriggled it in.  Like an animal, he grunted and thrust his cock almost all the way on the first push.  My head exploded in a rush of sweet pleasure-pain as my sphincter was stretched to the limit.  Matt grasped a breast in each hand for leverage, keeping the animalistic grunts and thrusts going as he pounded into my ass.  I screamed a long, low “AHHH” for maybe a minute as my insides convulsed in wave after wave of delight.  I didn’t even realize one of my hands was stroking my pussy until one of the orgasmic convulsions squirted a stream of woman-juice, coating my hand in the liquid. 

 

I’d heard stories of female ejaculation, but always thought they were male fantasies.  The squirting cum from my pussy was an amazing reality.  In one final thrust Matt unloaded deep into my rectum; I felt the ejaculatory twitches of his cock and the spreading warmth of his ample semen as it coated my bowels.

 

After showering and toweling each other dry, I led Matt back to bed.  “Could you see my need the first time we met?”

 

“God, Mrs. Oliver…when I saw you in that bikini…I, ah…you’re the most beautiful woman I think I’ve ever met…you’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

 

“Please Matt, call me Jeanine.”  I was looking into those blue eyes again and I couldn’t focus on anything else.  “You knew I wanted you too that day, didn’t you?”

 

“Oh, yes, Mrs. O…I mean Jeanine.  I, er, saw how wet you were down there…your bottoms…ah, and you were having a hard time breathing…I knew.”  After a hesitation, he said “Marie…”

 

“No, Matt, this isn’t about Marie,” I barked and cut him off.  “This about you and me…this is about what we want.”  My voice lowered to a whisper, “…what we need.”

 

While we lay next to each other, I started touching and stroking his cock, which began to grow to its glorious length and girth once more.  Matt, aroused and ready to go, tried to mount me but I stopped him.

 

Gazing into those hypnotic eyes yet again, I asked “Matt…do you want me?”  When he nodded, I add, “I don’t mean today, I mean forever.  I‘m offering myself to you…I’m yours…” I wouldn’t let him answer, smothering him with another open-eyed kiss. 

 

The look in those blue eyes was a blend of lust and confusion.  I pushed him onto his back and straddled him.  When I guided his cock into me, I pondered if my pussy would ever be dry again, it was so well lubricated.  I nearly fainted from the feeling of fullness; I wanted to have this feeling forever.  I bounced on his cock.  Men must enjoy this position, I was thinking: having the woman in control, looking up at her, watching her breasts bounce up and down.  I could see Matt was extremely turned-on, his eyes focused on my bounding breasts.  I could feel his cock thicken within me, ready to spurt. 

 

He wasn’t going to cum without me, I thought.  Wow!  Watching him about to cum was a sight!  He closed his eyes yet opened his mouth, breathing very hard, beads of sweat springing from his forehead, letting out a low groan.  My mind said: I NEED TO SEE HIM CUM.  As I felt his first orgasmic tremor, I swung off him, swiveled around and straddled his face.  Holding his cock in both my hands, I gave him the necessary last few strokes and he squirted his first cum-shot (a fountain!) straight up into the air.  The following spurts were guided to my face and chest.  I was in girlish amazement at the volume of it all!  All the while he was cumming, I was grinding my pussy into Matt’s mouth, his tongue (good boy!) at my clit.  This time my climax was an atomic bomb—no build up, just the massive explosion—as I arched my back and screamed to the ceiling.  My mind was at zero while my body was at 1000.  I couldn’t remember anything else except the ecstasy.

 

The next thing I remembered was looking up into those eyes, concern painted on them.  Matt was all apologetic and worried—I passed out!  When I regained most of my awareness, I realized Matt must have been exploring my body.  His ejaculate was coating me everywhere, massaged onto my breasts, stomach, and pubic mound.  I couldn’t get my mind around the bliss of our coupling, the heavenly glow emanating from my groin.  Could he comprehend the magnitude of what he’d done to me? 

 

I assured him I was okay and again guided him to the shower.  We washed up; no sex this time.  Before dressing, we embraced and kissed, each of us relishing the sensation of the other’s hot body against our skin.  Matt’s cock was stirring once more, but we were done for the day.  Jim would be home soon, so I couldn’t risk another coupling (but I WANT MORE my mind and body screamed).

 

“Matt, am I the one you want?”

 

“Yes,” he murmured.

 

“Am I the only woman you will fuck?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Listen…you will break off with Marie…I will be your woman…we will fuck every chance we get…I will do anything you want…” I continued to paint the picture and Matt listened and agreed, his eyes (THOSE EYES!) burning into me.

 

We set a “date” (ha-ha) for the next afternoon.

 

I met him on campus, and we went to his small apartment to fuck.  We explored each other fully—no position, no demand, no need left undiscovered.  Hunger, that’s what it was—HUNGER—I craved his splendid cock, losing myself in his eyes, and the bombs exploding in my mind.

 

It took two weeks for Jim to suspect what was happening.  I was surprised it took that long.  Was it in my eyes for all to see?  Was my forever-wet pussy screaming out my desperation?  Was my loosened anus begging for deliverance? 

 

Marie confronted me first; I got the “how could you” and the “I hate you” cudgels thrown at me with full force.  You want to know how much they hurt?  THEY DIDN’T!  All I wanted was Matt; nothing else mattered.

  

Remember me saying how my life was ruined the day I met Matt?  Two days after the confrontation with Marie, it was Jim’s turn.  “Slut” — “bitch” — “whore” — I had them all hurled at me.  When Jim told me I should leave, I didn’t argue, just packed up some clothes and left.  I spent about a month living with Matt, but he wasn’t ready for the relationship I was looking for.  Face it, I was just too demanding of this boy/man, and he eventually rejected me.

 

NN

 

A year later, I’m alone.  Jim has met someone new and I’m happy for him.  The divorce is proceeding through the courts.  I demand nothing from Jim. 

 

My life is now a string of one-night stands; trying to rekindle the same ecstasy I experienced that day with Matt.  I’ve been with both men and women, desirous of my body but giving nothing in return.  What is missing?  Is it chemistry, pheromones, psychic energy?  What possesses a woman to bloom, to give herself away to the pleasure of the ultimate climax, to forever search for it?  Yes, my life as I knew it was finished that day—looking into those eyes. 

 

I search for another Matt, another set of fathomless eyes to drown in.

 

I’m hoping to one day cum again.

 

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