Deep in the empty parking lot, seat reclined. Eyes shut. Finally, sleep after three brutal night shifts at the psych ward. Handicapped residents restless, heatwave chaos. Pills, coaxing, repeat. Body screams for rest. Son’s basketball game, my turn to drive the team. Lucas sick, but duty calls. Twenty kilometers out. Guys in their twenties, still carless kids. Drift off hard.
Knock. Jolt awake. Groggy fog. Sun visor hits my head. Another rap on the window. Side glass. Didi. Skinny, shy team misfit. Others gone? Match over? Only ten minutes passed. Dress hiked up, thighs bare, panties peeking. His fidget. Fix skirt. Cleavage spills too. Oops. Tired brain clears.
The Mutation
“Didi, what’s up? Where’s everyone?” He stammers. Match canceled. Teammates ditched him for beach beers, car full. Mocked him: “Luck-y, two hours with busty Mrs. Dutertre. Make a move, perv.” Rage flashes in his eyes. Timid shell cracks. Real fire underneath.
Heart tugs. Stories pull me in. Nurse instinct. Help this lost soul. “Fuck them. We wait, play along. But first, fun spot. No beach.” He guides. Village, dirt track, hill path. Unsteady in heels, short dress. Grabs my arm. Stronger here. His turf. Childhood picnics with gran, sis. Fence. Barbed wire.
“Dress off to pass.” Practical, no leer. Strip. Lingerie only. Bra strains heavy tits, sheer thong barely hides. Crawl through. His hand on my back, ass. Lowers me. Nipples harden. Past wire naked-vibed. Help him. Face inches from my damp thong. He freezes, sees all. Quick robe cover.
Summit. Sea view explodes. Forest cloak, beach distant. Magic. Blanket down. Chat flows. Ferdinand, not Didi. Nerd parents, absent. Skinny shame. Strip him too. Long-sleeve sweat off. Slip last. Tiny cock. No girl. Fears failure. Hands grip his. Thigh presses.
The Exploit
Mask drops. Power surges. Control my therapy. Lean in. Tug slip aside. Grip his soft dick. Stroke slow. Eyes lock. Pull down briefs. Naked now. Kiss cheeks, lips tease. Heavy breast rubs him. Unhook bra. Tits free, swing. His hands explore, tender awe.
First touch ever. Mine too, this type. Stroke him hard. Full erection, small but rigid. Peel thong. Straddle. Wet pussy lips kiss his tip. Arms pin chest, nipples graze. Guide in. Shallow thrust. Grind clit on shaft. Power rush. His virgin spasm. Hot cum floods. My orgasm crashes. Collapse, sweat-slick.
Sun warms skin. Hands linked. Bliss. Time slips. Late return. Teammates gawk. Our glow. Drop him home. “Call me, Ferdinand.” “OK, Véro.”
Next day: “Date with Claire. Thanks, Véro.”
Back to shifts, mom duties. Secret burns inside. Stronger. Unbreakable. They clueless.