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DESCRIPTION: Middle-aged English teacher Pamela, a wife and mother, discovers that there is more to life in picturesque Regal Bay, especially her sex life, if only she has the courage to take that first step. When she gathers the courage to take that first step, the next become all the easier to take, down the dark path towards the ultimate sin. EXCERPT: Pamela stood beneath the shower spray, the hot water rinsing the soap from her soft body. She was both exhausted and exhilarated at once. As a recent image of her young lover, taking her from behind, flashed through her mind, her pussy trembled between her thighs. A warm trickle of recently spilled semen dribbled from her well-fucked vagina and slid down her inner thigh, mingling with the warm water from the shower as it headed for the shower stall drain. She reached down between her thighs and slipped a long finger up inside herself. She swirled her finger within her ravaged opening and pulled even more of the seed out. There was a lot to remove. This had been the third time she had secretly met with Freddy Killibrew. Pamela knew she was pushing her luck. It wouldn't be long before she was caught, she knew that. Eventually someone would recognize her. Eventually her husband would start to question why she was spending so much time with friends after work and figure out that she was having an affair. Eventually she would figure out a better way to find her sexual release. Eventually she knew she would have to take the next step and make her son aware of the fact that she so desperately wanted him.
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by K.W. Steiner
The Matrons of Regal Bay
Published by K.W. Steiner at Lot’s Cave
The Matrons of Regal Bay
Pamela's Tale, © 2018, K.W. Steiner
Cover by Morgaine Wrightman
All Rights Reserved
All Characters In This Book Are Age 18 Or Older
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Lot’s Cave website and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Lot’s Cave Novel
Pamela rolled over and looked at the nightstand clock. It read 3:15am. She eased out from under the covers and sat at the edge of the big bed she shared with her husband. In the quiet darkness George still slept soundly next to her, gently snoring as she looked at him. She felt yet another wave of regret wash through her as she looked at George. “I’m sorry,” she silently mouthed towards him as she once again ran through in her mind the pleasures and pains of the last eight hours. Eight hours that had changed her entire life.
Forcing those images from her mind, Pamela rose and quietly left the bedroom, headed for the kitchen and a drink of water. The house was quiet at that time of morning, with only the light ticking of the grandfather clock in the front room breaking that stillness. The kitchen was just as still and she refrained from turning on the light as she moved to the refrigerator. With a bottle of Ice Mountain spring water in hand, she hesitated returning to her bedroom. Instead, she padded lightly through to the adjacent laundry room, and the open door to the basement. Down there in the darkness was where her son now lived.
Pamela stood silently the kitchen as she sipped from the bottle of water. Above the sink, the windows looking out over the back yard reflected her image. She took stock of herself. Pamela Walker, 45-year-old married mother of one who taught English at Regal Bay High School. She lived in a comfortable house with her husband of 25 years George Walker, a man whom she had loved since high school and had married shortly after graduating. George had been a star athlete for Regal Bay but hadn’t been one of the smarter students. As it was, he hired on that first summer out of school with a logging outfit while Pamela went on to Regal Bay University to earn her teaching degree. They lived in a small apartment outside of town while saving up for a home of their own. Pamela was lucky in that Regal Bay was growing and the newly expanded high school was hiring for the Fall semester the year she graduated from the university. Pamela had been teaching at Regal Bay High ever since.
Life had been good for Pamela and George, with George taking on a foreman’s role after just a few years on the job. With both of them working good-paying jobs, they were able to buy a nice, small home in a new housing addition near the high school. Within a year, Pamela was pregnant with their first and only child, Scott.
Unfortunately, getting the job done at any cost had been George’s motto, and it had almost killed him. George had been injured in a truck accident nearly eight years ago. George had been driving down a narrow logging trail with a fully-loaded truck when a flash storm hit. He lost control and went over a cliff. The crash had left him paralyzed from the waist down and he'd had to have both legs amputated below the knees from the damage done to them in the accident. Where George had once been a strong, active, virile man, eight years later he was little more than a burden to her, and she hated herself for thinking like that. Pamela still loved her husband dearly and knew that she always would, but lately she had begun to realize that she needed more in life, before she grew too old to enjoy it. It didn’t help that he had taken to drinking more than he ever had in the last few years, or that he rarely engaged in conversation with her that didn’t involve a list of items he wanted from the store, a list that usually consisted of little more than alcohol, cigarettes, and pain-killers.
Their son Scott had taken his father’s disability hard. Being an only child, Scott had enjoyed the attention George gave him when he was home on the weekends. Scott had played little league baseball and YMCA-league soccer, wanting to follow in his father’s footsteps when it came to sports. Scott had been at Freshman football try-outs when George had had his accident. He made the team but the shock of his father’s injuries changed his mind about playing sports. Instead, Scott turned his attention to his other passion, electronics and computers. He had reasoned that there was a future in that industry, one that wouldn’t see him follow his father into the logging industry, and possibly a disabling injury as well.
Pamela had liked her son’s change of heart, but it came at a cost. As Scott began to spend more time in his high school studies as well as his personal studies of electronics, he began to grow more distant to both her and his father. By the time he had started his senior year, Scott seldom joined her and George at the dinner table, or in the front room to enjoy television. She knew that he enjoyed the kind of social life all teen-agers did, and he did go out on dates with girls from school. Scott had taken to finishing the basement with money he had earned working part-time at the local Home Depot. It had been a project he and his father had talked about for many years, but as George’s health deteriorated following his accident, the project was forgotten. Scott had taken it back up when his perceived need for privacy began to fill his adolescent mind, and once the basement was ready, he had moved down. With a semi-private entry from the back door through the laundry room, Scott could come and go as he pleased. In the years since graduating high school and going to college at the near-by Majestic Mountain Technical Institute, Scott had grown into more of a tenant than a live-in son. At times, Pamela would only see Scott when he went through to use the bathroom. Even that had been cut in half now that Scott had installed a shower in the basement over the winter months.
For the last year Scott had seldom spent any time with his parents, only the occasional Sunday dinner. Pamela was hard pressed to recall a lasting conversation she and he had had. She knew he brought home girls from time to time, though he was very considerate and quiet. Scott worked at Fry’s Electronics in the mall full-time during the day, which helped with the household bills and she was grateful for it. Her teaching salary would never cover the cost of running the household. Pamela would often actually have to go down to even find out if Scott was home. At times, she’d stand at the top of the stairs, out of direct sight from below, listening to any snippet of conversation her son and his friends might have. Most times, all she would hear would be music or the sounds of a video game being played. Even those had faded away, as Scott often wore a head-set while playing his on-line adventure games.
Pamela moved through to the laundry room. The door to the basement stood open and from the top of the stairs she could see the soft glow of Scott’s television. It was still on and Pamela wondered if Scott was still awake. Her heart suddenly raced in her chest as she took a few hesitant steps down. She found her adult son laying asleep on the long corner-sofa he called his bed. She eased down the remaining steps to stand on the warm carpet that floored his realm. On the low second-hand coffee table, she found the remote to shut the television off. Scott was deeply asleep, and she paused to look at her son, a young man of 21, who had been a classmate of the young man she had spent the evening with. A jolt of anxiety rushed through her, because she knew that her son and her young lover knew each other. Anxiety washed through her as she realized that her son might soon know her deepest, darkest secret.
This entire situation had begun one afternoon after school, when Pamela had met with a friend for coffee. At some point, their conversation turned to sex and when Gayle, a fellow high school teacher, mentioned that she might find a little excitement for her dreary life by going on-line and looking for a discrete, extra-marital hook-up. At first Pamela had blown off the idea when the subject came up, but Gayle Meyer, a woman notoriously on the prowl for husband number three, asked, “What harm could come of creating some false persona and seeing what’s out there?” the seed had been planted.
At first Pamela had blown off the idea, but as the weeks went by, so did her aversions. She began to browse the internet for the very sites Gayle had mentioned, and as she toyed with the idea more, the thought that maybe she'd have a little fun with it took hold. After all, she didn't have to go through with anything, she reasoned. She'd just see what kind of guy she might hook. Nothing more than a middle-aged fantasy to kill a few hours at night.
Pamela had never thought of herself as a MILF, a “Mother-I'd-Like-to-Fuck” type, and yet within hours of posting her somewhat made-up and yet a little close to real profile on the site, Pamela had received dozens of “flirts” and messages. She was absolutely amazed that there were so many young men, and even some young women, who were looking for an older woman such as herself to hook up with. The site Pamela had posted on, at the suggestion of Gayle, was one dedicated to helping older women, for the most part over the age of 40, discretely find an extra-marital sex partner.
Pamela was in no way a fit and trim knock-out. The idea some young man might want to hook up with her baffled her. She found a nice picture of herself and added it to her profile, with her face obscured. Pamela had dirty blonde hair that she kept cut short in a stylish bob, she also had warm gray eyes, matronly hips and soft but sagging d-cup breasts. She never considered herself all that attractive. Just plain. But she had a large sexual appetite that George had once easily satisfied on a nightly basis. Since his accident, however, his doctors had told her in scientific terms that he would never be able to satisfy her needs again.
It wasn't that Pamela was surprised that so many men found her profile attractive enough to want to hook up with her, it was the irony of who she finally accepted to meet with that had set her head spinning. Since posting her faux-profile she had read dozens of postings from young men, and surprisingly a couple of interested young women, who wanted to exchange messages with her. In particular, she enjoyed checking out the pictures they would post. Most were obviously not really the guys writing back. Most were probably some picture they had cut-and-pasted from some hot-body internet sight. After all, there just couldn't be that many guys with toned abs and tanned bodies out there looking to hook up with tired old hags like her, she thought. As the evenings went on, Pamela found herself drawn more by what the picture showed than what words were written. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words, right?
One of the first postings she replied to was one accompanying a picture that showed a young guy with an average body and a little bodily hair. She was surprised that the picture included his crotch. It didn't show his face, unlike so many others, which lent Pamela to believe that the picture was genuine to the writer. What it did show was a well-hung young man. His profile read “I'm 20, enjoying college, and love nasty sex as long as it includes my eating you out!” As she read through his profile a third time, which included the phrase “I need to find a woman who will play out my fantasy of bedding my own mother”, Pamela found herself rubbing her crotch through her slacks. Although she had never thought about her own son in such a way, Pamela wondered if this young man in the profile, who went by the screen name “I_wanna_bang_U”, had a mother who would be anything like herself. After all, this boy had read her own profile and sent her a message. It probably helped that her own screen moniker was “HornyMature36d”, which would send any young horny guy her way, or so her friend had explained.
Pamela gathered her nerve and replied to “I_wanna_bang_U” with a short note, and soon they began to exchanged ever increasingly dirty messages through the web site. She even went so far as to take a “selfie” after showering and sending it to him, though she still made sure to obscure her face. What it did show was her heavy, matronly breasts hanging heavy on her chest, with large, pink areola and nipple buds that stood out prominently. The picture also gave a hint at her tangled, thick pubic bush below the slight swell of her belly. She was rewarded the next afternoon with a better “selfie” from him, showing off his manhood in all it strong, erect glory. It came with the note, “Ready to pleasure you!” That evening, while in the shower, Pamela masturbated with that cock in mind.
Eventually, Pamela set up a second e-mail account, one which no one in her immediate circle would know about, which she intended to use to communicate more freely with her potential lover. She offered up her new e-mail address, and soon they were messaging directly, without having to log-on to the web-site. It was the next step along the path, but not one she still couldn’t retreat from.
As the days turned into weeks, Pamela realized that she wanted to meet with this exciting young man. By the way he responded, he was just as eager to meet with her, face-to-face. It wasn't long before Pamela finally accepted his offer of meeting her, and yet he still hadn’t revealed his face to her, or she to him. They both agreed that a neutral-ground meeting place should be used, as it turned out they both lived in Regal Bay. Anxiously, Pamela made arrangements that included a room at the Regal Hi-Way Motel out near the interstate for the up-coming Friday night. She very nearly backed out, but finally sent him the information, including the room number and a note that said she'd be waiting for him there.
It was hard for Pamela to concentrate on her work at school all through the day Friday, the anticipation of what she had set in motion filling her with excitement and dread, all at the same time. By the time the day had ended, she was ready to call the entire thing off. After getting home, and taking a much-needed shower, she had relaxed somewhat, and felt that she could at least meet the young man. It was entirely up to her whether they did anything physical. A meeting couldn’t hurt, and still wouldn’t be a violation of her wedding vows, she reasoned.
George was propped up in the bed, watching television in their room, when she came from the bathroom. She wore only a bathrobe, which she let fall to the bed as she passed George. He barely gave her nudity a glance.
“I’m going out tonight,” she told him. “I’m meeting Gayle and a couple of others from work for drinks, if that’s alright with you, honey?”
George grunted, “I guess. Now be quiet. I’m watching my show.” Pamela dressed quietly, her husband ignoring her. She felt a little better about what she was doing in that moment and wanted to hold onto that feeling. She pulled her favorite smoke-gray sweater on over her bra and gave George a quick peck on the cheek and told him, “I’ll be back about midnight, I guess,” and headed out, leaving her husband to his shows. Scott wasn’t home she noted, given that his car wasn’t in the driveway. She backed her Dodge Caravan out and turned towards the interstate.
The Regal Hi-Way Motel was just off the highway interchange, across from the brightly-lit truck stop and a trio of fast-food restaurants. Pamela figured that there was little to no chance of her being recognized, not that she would have been seen as anyone other than what she was; a plain-looking middle-aged woman. She parked her navy-blue mini-van near the lobby and went inside to register. A moment later, she was back in her van, texting to her date that she had arrived. It wasn’t long before she received his reply.
Pamela pulled around the building to park outside the ground-floor room she’d been given the key to. Nervously, she made her way inside, carrying her purse and the small over-night bag she had packed for the occasion. Inside the room, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized that she was holding, and then turned on the room light. It was furnished as any highway motel in the country was. Pamela had taken a room with a single queen-sized bed, and now that she saw it, her heart began to race yet again. She realized all the more looking at the bed, where she imagined so much sex had taken place, that she was about to embark on a path that led to pleasure as well as remorse.
When the knock at the door behind her suddenly came, Pamela nearly cried out, startled. She turned quickly to face the door and knowing that this was indeed the moment of truth, she stepped forward and opened the door. The young man standing before her took her breath away. Standing before her was a familiar face. A face belonging to one of her past students. It was the face of Freddy Killibrew.
“Oh, sweet Jesus!” Pamela gasped. “Freddy Killibrew! Oh, my god! What are you doing here?”
Freddy was a tall, skinny, freckle-faced young man who Pamela had had as a student during his high school years. In fact, he was one of Scott’s friends and classmates. Freddy had been over to her house on any number of occasions during their high school years. Pamela knew his mother Ursula, though not well. And now he stood outside a hotel room door, waiting to be invited in.
“I guess I'm here for the same reason you are, Mrs. Walker,” he replied sheepishly. She backed away as he stepped into the room and pushed the door closed behind him.
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