Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

When she asked him a question, he found he had to struggle to focus on her and come up with an answer. He managed to blurt out something about going to shoot hoops, and was actually glad when she left it at that and ran out the door with a quick wave. Now he was home alone with her mom and could start to put his plan into action.

He continued to sit at the table and pretend to read the paper until he heard Mrs. Clark enter. "Oh, hi, Greg."

"Hi, Mrs. C. Did you have a good night last night?" Greg asked very pointedly, staring intently at her. She was wearing another one of her bland, baggy sweaters and a pair of unflattering pants. Greg realized that in the entire time he had known her, he could never recall seeing her in anything else.

Looking at Greg with an odd expression on her face, she hesitantly replied, "Umm.... yes I did, thank you."

After a pause, "would you like some breakfast, Greg?"

"Yes, that would be fine, Mrs. C," Greg replied, still looking intently at her.

As she turned and busied herself at the stove, Greg gathered his thoughts and tried to muster the courage to proceed with his plan, praying a silent prayer that it would work. When a few minutes had passed, he reached out and intentionally knocked over his glass of milk spilling it onto the floor by his feet.

Hearing the accident, Mrs. Clark spun around to see what had happened. Seeing that it was just a bit of spilt milk, she began to walk towards the closet to retrieve the mop.

"No, Mrs. C., don't use that. Use this," Greg quickly replied holding up a dish towel he had conveniently placed on the table next to the milk.

Without even thinking about it, Mrs. Clark changed directions and walked over to the table to take the cloth from Greg's outstretched hands. If she hadn't had such a sleepless night last night, because her thoughts had been plagued with images from the stories and pictures, she probably would have thought it odd that Greg didn't clean up the mess himself.

She dropped the cloth on the spilt milk and was going to use her foot to move it around, but Greg spoke up again. "No, Mrs. C. You should get down on your hands and knees to clean it up. It's the only way to make sure you do a good job," he said with a touch of authority in his voice.

Responding as if she was in a fog, Mrs. Clark slowly dropped to her knees at Greg's feet and began to, hesitantly, clean up the mess. Greg felt energized, having Stacey's mom kneeling at his feet cleaning up after him. He knew he had to proceed carefully from here or else he would risk blowing it all.

As she continued to work, Greg began in a conversational tone of voice, "you know Mrs. C., I was reading somewhere that a proper and decent woman wears a blouse and a skirt. You are a proper and decent woman aren't you, Mrs. C.?" Greg asked, again staring at her intently.

Sensing his intent gaze, and confused about the strange feelings running rampant through her, as she knelt at his feet, Mrs. Clark began to color slightly at the cheeks and could not look him in the eyes. Her thoughts were jumbled and she had a difficult time formulating a response. When she realized he expected her to answer, she finally managed to mumble, "Yes.... I guess so."

Sensing her confusion and weakness, Greg pressed the attack. "Well, if you are indeed a 'proper and decent woman', then shouldn't you also dress in that fashion?" he asked.

Head still bowed and turning a deeper red, Mrs. Clark stuttered, "well....I.... it's just... I.... I guess so."

"Well alright then. It's settled. Next time I see you, you should be dressed that way," Greg replied amicably, sensing a win. "I think you got it all cleaned up now Mrs. C. You can get up now."

Flushed deep red, Mrs. Clark rose on unsteady legs and walked back over to the stove, to continue cooking breakfast. For the rest of the meal, Greg acted as if nothing had happened and talked about various topics like school, sports, and local events.

Once he had finished eating, he informed Mrs. Clark, "I'm going to head out to the school to shoot some hoops, but would like to drop by for supper, if that's alright with you?"

Having regained some of her composure, and feeling more at ease with the rest of the conversation she had with Greg, she readily replied, "certainly Greg. You know you are always welcome here."

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"Thanks, Mrs. C. I gotta go now." Greg waved goodbye as he headed for the back door. As he stepped outside he took a deep breath to steady himself and prayed that the suggestion he had planted in her would take root and come to fruition later on.

*************

It was late in the afternoon and nearing suppertime, when Greg finally decided to head back for supper. He had sort of wandered aimlessly for most of the day, trying to waste as much time as he could, shooting hoops, hanging out at the mall, and heading down to the skate park, prior to heading back to the Clark's.

As he walked up the back steps, Greg's stomach was roiling with anxiety and fear, since he did not know what he was going to find when he walked into the house. The first thing he noticed was the smell of supper cooking in the oven. That was certainly a good sign. As he entered the kitchen he saw Mrs. Clark standing over the stove, stirring something in a pot. She was wearing a black skirt with a white blouse!!!

Greg was ecstatic. His suggestion to Mrs. Clark, this morning, had sunk in and she had complied. He could now see her figure much more clearly. It looked even better than he had imagined. Like Stacey, she had nice thin shapely legs and a beautifully curved ass. Her breasts were slightly larger than Stacey's, but looked just as firm. Greg could feel his cock beginning to stir in his pants as he imagined Mrs. Clark standing naked in front of him. Since her back was to the door, Mrs. Clark had not heard Greg enter. After looking her up and down several more times, Greg cleared his throat and said nonchalantly, "hi Mrs. C."

Turning her head, Mrs. Clark smiled and replied, "Oh, hi Greg. You're just in time. Supper will be ready in 15 minutes. Stacey is just upstairs getting changed, if you want to have a seat for a few minutes."

As Greg sat at the table, he could see that it had already been set, and, fortunately, the milk was already on the table. Taking a deep breath, Greg filled his glass up and then casually knocked it over, once again spilling its contents onto the floor at his feet. "Oh my, I'm sorry Mrs. C, I did it again," he said with a wistful smile.

"Oh, that's alright Greg." She began to head toward the closet again, but then suddenly remembered the events of the morning, and abruptly turned around, grabbed the dishcloth from the handle of the stove, and walked over to the table. Slowly sinking to her knees, Mrs. Clark began to clean up the mess in the manner which she had been instructed this morning.

With a smile, Greg pulled out his digital camera and quickly, without her noticing, snapped off a shot of her kneeling at his feet cleaning up the mess. From his vantage point, he could see a hint of flesh through the opening of her shirt. He could see Mrs. Clark was uncomfortable and was having a difficult time meeting his gaze.

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"You know, Mrs. C, a decent and proper woman would not have so many buttons on her shirt done up. I think it best if you undo the top one," suggested Greg.

"Well... I.... don't think that's....." she stammered.

Cutting her off before she get any further in her protestations, Greg demanded "now Mrs. C. You do want to be a good role model for your daughter, don't you? You want to set a good example, right?"

"Well.... yes..... I suppose," she murmured, feeling a fog settle over her. A combination of the lack of sleep, and confusion over the strange feelings coursing through her body created confusion and uncertainty in her.

"Well, then quit arguing about it. If you delay any longer, then Stacey will be here and it will have to be 2 buttons undone," Greg replied authoritatively. He could sense her will breaking as she looked down at her shirt, and then, with shaking hands and red face, began to fumble with the top button of her blouse. Since she was distracted looking down at her button, Greg quickly snapped off another picture with his camera.

Once it was undone, Greg could see the cleft between the mounds of her breasts and the white lacy bra she was wearing much more clearly.

'There you go, Mrs. C. I think you got it all cleaned up. Thanks," he said quickly stashing the camera back into his front shirt pocket.

Again, with shaking legs, Mrs. Clark rose and went back to the stove to continue cooking the supper. Greg was very pleased with himself, since things were going exactly as he had planned. He couldn't believe his good fortune. In his mind, he had imagined everything going wrong, at every step, and never being able to reach the prize, at the end of the tunnel, but, now, it was almost within reach.

Almost as if on cue, Stacey walked into the kitchen moments later, bringing with her a magical scent of perfume and flowers. With a big smile she said "Hi Greg. Good to see you again. How was your day?"

"Oh, it's been pretty good. It's nice just to relax and not worry about school and stuff. How was yours?" he asked.

"Awesome. The mall was packed and there was a truckload of sales going on," she replied enthusiastically. "Stacey, honey, supper will be ready in 10 minutes," Mrs. Clark interjected.