The Education of Mrs. Connors

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A wife learns a new set of skills.
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Chapter One

Peggy looked up from her Monday morning coffee, directly into Donna's questioning eyes.

"Yeah, all right," she sighed, "I am bored. But so what? What should I do about it?"

Donna smiled at her.

"Depends on what you find boring," she answered sassily. "Is it because hubby's away too much?"

"Partly," Peggy answered grudgingly.

"And partly because when he is here, you're not gettin' enough, right?" Donna grinned.

Peggy blushed. She looked at Donna with a rueful smile of her own.

"Let's just say I'm a little frustrated with my life."

She found that she couldn't tell Donna why. Donna might have been her neighbor and friend, but Peggy was afraid that Donna would laugh.

At age 42, in the tenth year of a childless marriage, Peggy was often afraid that life was passing her by. Oh sure, Peter had a good job, with an income high enough that Peggy didn't have to work. But her life was so boring. And, as Donna had reminded her, sex wasn't part of the solution.

Peter seemed to enjoy it. Judging from his moans when he erupted inside of her, he seemed to do just fine. But he didn't care at all whether Peggy enjoyed it. And she didn't; simply spreading her legs for a few minutes once a week, as she'd been doing since they were first married, was not all that stimulating.

Peggy didn't think Donna would understand any of it. Although Donna had been a highly successful marketing consultant, she was "between jobs" now, as she liked to say. And she was in no hurry to get back to work, since she was also "between husbands," having just gotten a fat divorce settlement from her attorney husband. She seemed to be spending most of her time this summer lounging around the pool in her carefully landscaped backyard.

"What you need is a good lover," Donna said. Peggy blushed again. Easy enough for Donna. Her neighbor's blonde All-American looks were the envy of all of the other women in the neighborhood. And Donna's voluptuous body showed no signs of 36 years of use. Most of the neighborhood women would have sworn that the attractive divorcee was in her mid-twenties. As a result, Donna didn't lack for male companionship. On several occasions during the last few months, Peggy, waiting for Peter to come home from yet another late night at the office, had seen various cars parked in Donna's driveway. Once she'd caught herself looking wistfully at her neighbor's bedroom window.

Donna leaned forward conspiratorially.

"What's the weirdest place you've ever fucked?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" Peggy asked.

"You know," Donna said. "Ever done it on the subway? Or on a plane?"

"No," Peggy blurted out. How could she admit that the weirdest place was the bed she'd grown up in, the one with her stuffed animals on it? She remembered when she and her newly married husband had visited her parents for the first time, and he'd insisted that they make love while her parents were at church.

"Oh, I don't know," Peggy said breezily. "Nothing special. Probably an Amtrak sleeper."

"I did that," Donna smiled. "Isn't that great?"

"So was that your weirdest place?" Peggy asked.

"God, no," Donna said. "The weirdest was -- well, there was that time my boss and I did it behind a partition while there was a stockholder's meeting going on. Or the time Jim and I did it in an elevator on the way up to our hotel room while other people were getting on and off."

Peggy's eyes grew wide as Donna continued.

"But I'd have to say the weirdest was when I was, like, seventeen years old. This boy and I did it while I was sitting on a urinal in the boy's locker room in the middle of a basketball game."

"Gross," Peggy said.

"Yeah, I guess it was," Donna said, with a faraway look in her eyes, "but boy was he hung. Well, thanks again for the coffee. I'd better get back home."

"Busy day?" Peggy asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Fortunately, Donna was oblivious.

"My older sister's son just graduated from high school," Donna said, "and I mentioned to my brother-in-law that I needed some yard work done this year. So Ken, my nephew, called me up and asked if he could earn a little extra money for college."

"Gee, you must pay pretty well," Peggy laughed.

"Oh, he doesn't need it for tuition," Donna explained. "He has a full athletic scholarship to Stanford. This is extra spending money."

"Wow," Peggy said. "He must be some athlete."

"I guess so," Donna said. "He's a swimmer. What with his schedule and mine, though, I actually haven't seen him for about four years now. He lives over in Centerville, but he's got his own truck, and he actually worked at a landscaping company last summer."

"Send him over here when you're done with him," Peggy said. "Peter's never home enough to work in the yard and I've got some plans for improving the place."

"I'll let him know," Donna agreed. "See 'ya, Peggy."

"Bye," Peggy said as she began to clean up. After she had finished her housework for the day in mid-afternoon, Peggy decided to take a shower. She quickly stripped off the sweat suit she'd put on when she'd gotten up, followed by her bra and panties. Before she reached the bathroom, though, she caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror that hung on the closet door. She playfully struck an exaggerated pose, standing with one leg in front of the other, her hands clasped behind her, and her shoulders thrown back.

Not too shabby, she thought. Her boobs were just as big as Donna's, and nice and firm. Her body curved in all the right places, inviting the eye's attention to the thick, dark triangle between her toned legs. And her face was still damned attractive. Shoulder length dark hair, brown eyes, pert nose, thick lips -- maybe she could catch one of Donna's castoffs. The two girls were exactly the same size, as Donna's continued borrowing of Peggy's best gowns demonstrated.

Suddenly the roar of a gasoline engine brought her out of her reverie. Peggy wheeled around, noticing for the first time that she'd forgotten to draw the shades before removing her clothes. Through the window, she could see a well-muscled youth cutting Donna's lawn with a riding mower. She quickly moved to the side of the window and pulled the shade down after one last look. She failed to notice the young man's eyes return to the same window, this time seeing only the white shade.

Peggy stayed in the shower a long time, letting the hot water cascade down her body. She found it relaxing, and soon found her thoughts straying to Donna's nephew. She had dated a swimmer a few times in college, and remembered his strong upper body muscles and trim waist. He had dumped after their second date for a top-heavy cheerleader who was known around campus to have gone down on most of her professors. Peggy found herself wondering what it would have been like to have her arms around that thin waist, her hands with nowhere to rest during sex except on top of his sculpted ass. She wondered if Donna's nephew -- Ken, was it? -- was built like that.

Her mind filled with a vivid image of his naked, young body just as she began to wash between her legs with her soap-covered washcloth.

"Oh!" she cried. Her carnal thoughts had primed her hair-trigger sexual response, and now the pressure of the washcloth against her swollen mound was making it fire.

"Oh, God," she moaned, slumping back against the stall as she lost her grip on the cloth. Her body began trembling. She bit her lip.

"Kenny!" she whispered, her mind filling once again with the image of her neighbor's young nephew. Too shocked and ashamed at what had happened to touch herself, Peggy simply squeezed her legs together. But that was enough.

"OH! OH! OH! OH!" she screamed, sinking to the floor as the water continued to pour off of her face and body. Her body shook with passion as her orgasm overcame her, stronger than she ever remembered feeling it during sex.

"OH, GOD, YES!" she shouted, her voice finally becoming little more than a guttural moan.

When she finally subsided, an embarassed Peggy hurriedly dried herself off and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. She was standing in her kitchen, contemplating dinner, when she heard a knock on the kitchen door. Her heart stopped as she opened the door to find Donna's nephew, wearing his shirt now, standing on her porch.

"Um, hi," she said nervously.

"Hi," the young man held out his hand. "I'm Ken Holmes. My Aunt Donna said you wanted some yard work done, so I figured I'd come over before I leave and see what it was. It might be easier if I kind of split my time rather than doing one house first and then the other."

"Oh, sure," Peggy agreed, speaking much too quickly as she stepped outside into the back yard. "I haven't given this too much thought yet, but it would be nice to put a perennial garden in back there and maybe a border of annuals in front of it. Then, you see all that brush in that corner? I'd like all that cleaned out, and I want an herb garden in there. Does this sound like too much?"

"Oh, no ma'am," Ken answered. "I've done some gardening around our house. You'll just have to buy the plants. I can get 'em here in my pickup, but you don't want me buying them."

He smiled broadly, and Peggy couldn't help but smile in return. "I'll go with you," she volunteered.

"Okay," Ken answered, "why don't I just start with that brush, and you can decide on the plants. Would you like me to cut your lawn, too?"

"Sure," Peggy said. "My husband usually does it, but he's been traveling a lot lately."

"Great," Ken said, "I plan on working every day except Thursdays, so I'll see you tomorrow."

Peggy returned to her dinner preparations. Later that night, after a boring evening of television, she was surprised when her husband climbed on top of her.

"But it's not Friday night," she said, puzzled but pleased.

"I know," he said, fumbling with his cock before plunging it inside, "but I'll be gone for the next week and a half, starting Wednesday. I'll be back the Saturday after next."

"When were you going to tell me that?" Peggy protested.

"I just told you," Peter said. "Do you want to argue or make love?"

Peggy submitted to Peter's wishes.

Make love? she thought afterward. Is that what you call it? Doesn't that imply something mutual?

Peggy was still feeling sorry for herself the next morning when Donna called to invite her for a swim.

"It'll be fun," she promised. "Just us girls. Give you a chance to work on your tan."

"All right," Peggy brightened up. She would work on a tan this summer. Digging through her chest of drawers, she found a bikini that she hadn't worn for about eight years. She usually showed up at Donna's pool in a frumpy blue one-piece suit. She pulled the two-piece on, delighted that her measurements hadn't changed.

"Whoa!" Donna said as Peggy approached. "Aren't you the fox?"

Peggy laughed.

"I'm just working on that tan, like you suggested," Peggy protested. "Besides, with this fence around both of our yards, who can see us?"

Donna smiled and Peggy sat down on one of the other lounge chairs. Turning onto her stomach, she quickly dozed off.

"Hi!"

Peggy woke up suddenly. Who was that?

She turned, but the sun was behind the person who'd spoken. She tried shading her eyes.

"Kenny, this is Mrs. Connors," Donna smirked. Peggy was blushing at how much skin she was showing the youngster, and Donna was clearly enjoying it.

"We've met," Ken explained. "I introduced myself yesterday before I left."

"Good," Donna said. "What are you going to do today?"

"I thought I'd start on Mrs. Connors's brush pile," he said.

As he walked away, Peggy took a long look at his cutoffs and T-shirt.

"See something you like?" Donna broke in.

Peggy turned quickly.

"Why didn't you tell me he was coming?" she said.

"What, and have you change back into that godawful blue suit?" Donna protested. "Deprive my own nephew of some cheap thrills?"

"Oh, right," Peggy said. "I'm old enough to be his mother. Cheap scare more likely."

Peggy turned over onto her back to let the sun complete its work.

"I can't stay out here too long," she said finally, "or I'll fry. Give me your towel so I can go get a shirt."

"My towel?" Donna asked. "Just walk over to your house."

"It's bad enough that boy saw me in this," Peggy said. "I'm not going to start parading around in it like some teenager."

Donna laughed but turned over the towel. Upstairs, Peggy picked out one of her husband's large shirts, but couldn't help but take a few minutes to watch Kenny working in the back yard. She glanced out at the pool and noticed that Donna was keeping a close eye on him as well.

She shook her head. Donna was insatiable. Peggy grabbed the book she was reading and headed back for the pool. Just before she reached the door, though, she unbuttoned the shirt. I may be older than his mother, she reasoned, but that doesn't mean he might not want to look.

That evening, she explained to Peter that she'd hired Donna's nephew to do some yard work. He grunted his assent before returning to the work he had to finish before leaving. The next morning, she dutifully packed his bag and drove him to the airport. On the way home, she stopped at the mall and then the grocery store.

Peggy was about two miles from her house when the car died. She managed to glide it over to the curb, but was unsuccessful in getting it to start again.

"SHIT!" she cried, pounding the steering wheel. "God damn him."

She'd been after her husband for weeks to get her Jeep Explorer looked at, but he'd kept putting it off. And now it was too late. Grabbing her purse, she got out of the car, slammed the door, and started to walk.

Five minutes later, she felt the first drop of rain. Focused on her anger, she had failed to notice the summer thunderstorm move in.

"Oh, my gosh," she cried. She began to run, but had no chance of outrunning the storm. Before she'd gone another half a mile, she was soaked to the skin.

"Mrs. Connors!"

She turned toward the sound.

"Kenny!" she said, relief flooding through her voice. He was in his pickup truck on the other side of the street.

"Come on," he said, "get in!"

She ran across the street, pulled open the door to his cab and climbed in.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I was driving home," Peggy began, "and . . . and . . . my car broke down . . . and . . . and then it started to rain and . . ."

She burst into tears.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You're fine now. Where's the car?"

His touch was like an electric shock. She sniffed back her tears.

"It's on Washington," she said quietly. "I was just going to home to get the other car and call the garage and then I was going to go get the groceries out."

"How about this?" Ken volunteered. "We'll go take a look at the car and if I can't fix it, we'll just take the groceries back to your house and you can call the garage."

Ken put the car in gear, giving Peggy her first chance to think. Turning to the side, she caught her reflection in the glass of the window.

Oh, my God, she thought, I look like a drowned rat. And my clothes!

Peggy realized that with her white slacks completely drenched, her bikini panties underneath were clearly apparent. And her white shirt didn't hide much of her bra, either.

Fortunately, Ken's truck reached the car quickly. Just then, though, it started to rain even harder.

"Well, I can't do anything in this," he said. "So let's get your stuff home, and I'll wait 'til it stops and then take a look at the car. No, no, you stay here, you're wet enough."

Ken fetched her groceries from the back seat of the car and they drove home together in silence, quickly covering the two miles.

"Oh, I guess the garage door opener is in the car," Peggy said.

"Why don't you get the door while I bring the bags?" Kenny said.

"Fine," Peggy agreed, hurrying to open the front door. She let herself in, and then ran through the house to let Ken in the back door.

"Can I get you something to drink, Kenny?" she asked as she began to put away the groceries.

"No, I'm fine," the young boy said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Peggy said suddenly. "I just started calling you Kenny, didn't I? Do you prefer Ken?"

"Kenny's fine," he blurted out.

Something in the boy's voice made Peggy turn, and she realized that he had been watching her.

"Oh, gosh," she said, remembering what she had looked like in the car, "I'm a mess, aren't I?"

Without giving Ken a chance to respond, she ran upstairs. Her shoes were wet, though, and halfway up she slipped.

"AAAHHHH!" she screamed. Falling backward, she managed to catch the stair railing with her left hand. Before she could decide how to free herself, Kenny came running from the kitchen. Without saying a word, he climbed the steps and took her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest as he took her into the bedroom.

"I think you look great," he said softly.

She looked up at him, every nerve in her body tingling. What should she answer? Thank you? Put me down? Get out?

He had almost reached the bed. She had to decide. She looked into his deep blue eyes, her body luxuriating in the firm grip of his muscular arms. She thought of her husband, of her marriage vows.

He placed her gently on the bed, her legs hanging over the end. She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide.

"Oh, Kenny," she breathed huskily. "Please . . . "

The second word caught in her throat.

Peggy watched Kenny peeled off his T-shirt, her heart beating wildly. He reached down and unzipped his jeans, pushing them to the floor and stepping out of them. Peggy caught sight of the bulge in Kenny's undershorts, and she subconsciously moistened her lips with her pink tongue.

Kenny smiled and reached for her slacks. He quickly undid the button, and then she felt the zipper slowly slide over her pubic mound. Kenny's hands slipped under the waist and she lifted her hips. Kenny slowly pulled the pants over Peggy's thighs, his eyes lighting up as he saw the older woman's floral-patterned panties.

After he had flicked off her shoes and tossed her pants aside, Ken suddenly dropped to his knees.

"Kenny, what -- OH!" Peggy's mind raced as she felt his hot breath between her legs.

"I want to eat your pussy," said the youngster.

Peggy simply stared. She had read about this in the pornographic magazines that her husband collected, mistakenly thinking he was keeping them hidden them from his wife. And she was familiar with "giving head"; she had even tried it once after that slut had stolen her swimmer boyfriend in college. But she'd gagged the first time, and the guy laughed so hard she'd never done it again.

But this was different. This was so totally woman-centered, so . . .

"Oooooh," Peggy purred as Kenny's lips began nuzzling her love nest through the silky fabric. He began to press harder and move his mouth faster, and Peggy found herself squirming on the bed.

"Kenny," she said breathily, reaching down and pushing her panties over her hips, "please . . ."

Kenny took the hint, sliding the panties down Peggy's thighs as she lifted her legs high in the air. When he finally pulled them off of her ankles, she found her thighs on top of Kenny's shoulders, wantonly keeping her legs spread.

He gripped her hips and his strong arms pulled her back to his mouth.

"Yes, Kenny," she groaned, the profane words tumbling from her mouth, "eat my pussy."

Looking down her body over the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, Peggy saw Kenny's eyes riveted on her glistening, wet mound. His tongue parted her labial lips and stabbed into her center. The brunette began writhing on the bed, finally reaching down and clutching at Kenny's head.

"Oh, God, oh, God," Peggy chanted.