Summer Sucks!

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His Summer Job Clients Suck. Literally.

This is an entry in the Summer Loving Contest. Thanks to Meathead96 for his editing help in making this a better story.

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Memorial Day weekend my brother Aaron drove down from the university to spend the long weekend. We all knew it was one of the last times we'd be together, and wanted to make the most of it. The grill was fired up, the beer was flowing, and most of our neighbors, friends and family were over for the big send-off. Only my sister Debbie was missing. Deb was going to school out east, and hadn't finished finals yet.

Aaron, the oldest, was about to make family history and become the first Borman to graduate college. He already had lined up his first 'real' job, and was headed to Atlanta as soon as school got out. It had come as a surprise to all of us how fast everything happened.

My brother had always been an Ok student, nothing exceptional. He hadn't dated much in high-school, wasn't on any sports teams, and had been a pretty average B+ student. Average height, average weight (maybe a little below average), plain sandy brown hair, Aaron was invisible as far as high-school went. He'd worked part time at the video store, and when he was 17 he was given the old hand-me-down Chevy Blazer to drive, which had seen better days even then.

I guess it was in the family genes. I followed in his footsteps; a complete non-entity, non-joiner, and non-dater. If anything, I was slightly less than average; A little smaller, a little lighter, a little quieter -- think Aaron, only less. My teachers seemed to forget my name, in spite of being the third in the family to pass through the hallowed halls of Heritage High, in almost as many years. I got decent enough grades, which I worked reasonably hard for, but that was about all I had going for me.

Don't get me wrong. I wanted more. I wanted to be different. I wanted to bust loose and leave the family legacy behind. I made an effort to look good. I took care of myself. I worked out. I ate well. I didn't have the size for football, or the height for basketball, but I went out for baseball and track, agonizingly close to making both teams, but missing the final cut each time. I had practiced the entire previous summer, determined that year would be the one. It was my senior year. There would be no next year.

I'd even dated, or at least tried. My initial sky-high aspirations had been exposed, in less than gentle terms, as the impossible, unattainable fantasies they were. Harshly.

Lowering my standards a notch, and then another, and yet another, I'd finally found someone who'd go out with me, and for more than one date. I felt pretty good about that. Eric and Darrell, my two closest friends, had been the first to drag me back to reality, after my unfortunate first attempts. I felt like the proverbial lobster in a tank: my fellow invertebrate's eager to drag me back down every time I strove to climb out. When Cathy Gates had finally let me kiss her, and even feel her chest through her shirt, I knew I was teetering on the lip of escape, ready to break free - FREE! So what if she was only a sophomore, and perhaps even less average than me? A guy's gotta start somewhere. Anyway, I could close my eyes when I kissed her.

I had even convinced her to come to the Memorial Day party, to kick off summer, say goodbye to my brother, and to acknowledge the fact that our High-School days were all but over. Less than two weeks to go. I guess I wanted to prove something as well. I had a girl! And I wanted my big brother to know it. Some things never change.

Aaron changed after he went away. He'd joined a fraternity, eventually becoming the vice-president. He was about to graduate Cum Laude, and he showed up at our house with a babe in tow that was like to bring me to my knees. She was everything we Borman's dreamed of, and yet so far beyond our grasp, sometimes we didn't even know it. This little stunner was on my brother like white on rice. As far as sibling rivalry went, that round went to Aaron.

Sunday evening, after the weekend of visiting and relaxation, Aaron pulled me aside and insisted I join him for a drive to the hardware store. A 'guy' thing. I was ready to get out of there. Cathy had given me grief for trying to push things too fast and had left earlier in a huff. Too fast? So I had my hand in her shirt. We'd dated over two weeks, and with two weeks left in the school year I was going 'too fast'. Shit. I was going to leave high-school a virgin. No two ways about it.

As soon as we were a couple of blocks away, he pulled into Sonic, where we ordered drinks while he broached what was really on his mind.

"What're your plans for the summer?" he asked, while we waited for our carhop to bring us our drinks.

"I'm not sure yet. Probably work at the video store again. I was thinking about taking a couple of courses online before starting up at Quad-C next semester."

"I've got something better for you. You know that job I had, with the sales route?"

I rolled my eyes, "I don't want to do sales, Aaron. Heck, I don't think the Cherry-bomb could take the miles, even if I did." Cherry-bomb was the name we'd given to the 12 year old Blazer that had introduced Aaron, my sister Debbie, and now me, to the world of driving. The original cherry-red exterior had faded to a color somewhere between primer and dried blood.

"Pete, listen to me. It's not what you think it is. Hell, it's not what you could ever even hope to imagine it is. I was planning to work it again this summer, but with my new job, and Jessica, I couldn't do it justice. So I want you to have this." He passed me a piece of paper with a phone number, and the name Sandra written in his precise printing. He handed it to me with something akin to reverence.

I looked over and I swear he was practically in tears. He took a deep breath, and wiped his eyes, just as a cute little brunette rolled up with our drinks.

He rolled down the window and took our drinks, then passed her a $5. When she reached for it, he held her hand for just a second, giving her a squeeze. "Damn you're pretty. Brought tears to my eyes, just looking at you. You worked here long?"

She gave him a nice grin. "Three weeks."

"What's your name?"

"Amber."

"Nice. I'll have to come here more often." He closed the window, while she was counting out the change, waving her off, and turning away, no more time for her.

I was in absolute awe of my brother's easy way talking to such a pretty girl. I would have been hard pressed to get an intelligible sentence out. College had certainly changed him.

"Peter, call that number. She'll probably bring you by for an interview. Whatever she says, whatever she asks, you just make sure that you let her know that you'll be the perfect employee. You'll be on time, polite, and eager to perform any task you're given. Promise me you'll do this," he said, any hint of jocularity gone. "It'll change your life."

"What's the big deal, Aaron? Why so serious?"

"Just do this. Please. For me. And for you."

I finally agreed, figuring if it was that important, I could at least give it a try.

Our carhop stopped by a few times, eager to see if we needed anything. I watched Aaron roll down the window and chat with her a minute, setting her to giggling, then apologizing for having to run. She gave him his number, which he stuffed in his pocket as we left.

Fuck! He got her number! Without even trying.

He left the next day. After that it was back to normal, average, middle-of-the-road suburban life, at least for me. Aaron, on the other hand, may have finally left 'average' behind.

* * *

I called 'the number' the following weekend. Four days of school left, I knew I needed to line up a job before they were all taken. I had spent many hours wondering what all the fuss was, and contemplating just throwing it away. But Aaron had seemed so sincere. So adamant. I made the call.

"Sandra speaking," I heard an adult woman's voice purr.

"Hi. My name is Peter Borman. My brother Aaron worked for you for the last few years. He suggested I give you a call and see if I could take his place this year." The words shot out of me like rounds from a machine gun. Bang. Bang-bang-bang. Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang. I'd practiced them repeatedly so I wouldn't get tongue tied and sound like a jerk.

"Aaron! I thought he'd be with me one more summer. Where's the darling boy off to?" she asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"He's graduating and is moving to Atlanta for a new job, with his girlfriend Jessica." I don't know why I threw in that last comment, but I couldn't resist.

"Mmmm, How ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm...?" she seemed to giggle. "When are you available, Peter?

"Last day of school is Thursday, and a bunch of us are going down to the beach Saturday," I explained.

"So you're available Friday? I think we can work with that. Let's meet Friday, around 11:00 am. I'll text you directions to my place. Don't be late." Her tone sounded as if our call was over.

"Uhm, Sandra? What should I wear? Aaron hasn't told me much about what we'll be doing."

"He hasn't? Why that sweet boy, he's so considerate of me." She had a hint of wistfulness in her voice. "Wear? It doesn't matter. Just be clean and neat. Got that?"

"Absolutely!" I assured her. "Friday, 11:00am."

* * *

Sandra lived on the nice side of town, no doubt about it. Big fancy apartment building, doorman outside, inside all marble and brass, high ceilings and fancy paintings, even a security guard.

The front desk was expecting me and sent me straight up to 5B. It was a big building and yet only two apartments per floor. I was impressed. Then again, let's face it. I impress pretty easily.

I rang the bell, and Sandra opened the door. She looked to be in her 40's but obviously took care of herself. Then again, what do I know about women's ages? She looked older then my mom. Dark tan, carefully tended hair, nice makeup. She looked to be in good shape, very slender with huge boobs that looked like grapefruits glued to her chest. Soft, round, tan, yummy grapefruits. Her low-cut shiny blouse showed a lot of cleavage, where I may have gotten lost for a while.

"Darling boy, didn't they ever tell you it isn't polite to stare?" She chuckled, reaching forward and pulling me into her beautiful living room by the arm. "Goodness, don't you look sweet? Are you really 18 years old?"

I'm sure I reddened. I didn't like to be reminded about how young I looked. I was lucky to pass for 16 most of the time. "As of May 19, yes ma'am."

She held me still, slowly walking around me, her hands brushing across my shoulders. "Oh, my, yes, I think you have potential, Peter. How much has your brother told you about what we do?"

I stood, nervous, feeling awkwardly uneasy as her eyes seemed to measure me, her smile predatory. I suddenly felt sorry for those mice you feed to snakes. "Nothing, really. He just wanted me to make sure that I let you know that I'll be the perfect employee. Always on time. Always clean, neat and eager to perform any task to the best of my ability."

She seemed to like that. "That sounds like a dream come true. Ok, let's see what we're working with here, young Peter." She sat down on a chair that looked like it would be amazingly uncomfortable, designed only to fill space in an artsy way. She perched on the edge and waved me nearer. I stopped about two feet away.

"Go ahead now, take them off," she said with a hint of eagerness.

"Take them off?"

"Yes. Am I not clear? Take them off," she said.

"Take what off?" I asked, afraid to hear her response.

She laughed out loud. "Gracious! He told you nothing?"

I just shook my head slowly in embarrassment.

She leaned forward and tugged me closer by the hips. I took a couple of small steps, and watched her with bated breath. She ran her hands up and down my hips, up to my waist, then down my thighs, smiling. I noticed the large rings on her fingers, diamonds and emeralds. The emeralds matched her sparkling eyes.

"Dear Peter, how can I explain this? We provide a rather unique service to the women of this community. A training and practice service for certain elements of the home life that they might want private."

She was undoing my belt as she spoke, her wrist and forearm brushing against my dick which was getting really uncomfortable, almost bent in two, stuck inside my pants leg, while it struggled to come to life.

"Our practice is very exclusive and very, very private. Our clients pay well to ensure it stays that way." She had my pants open now, unbuttoned and unzipped, and she was pulling them down a bit, lowering them on my hips. I was aching, and wanted desperately to reach down and straighten my erection out before I broke it.

She suddenly leaned forward, pulling my briefs forward by the waistband and peaking inside. "Helloooo, I know you're in there somewhere." She seemed a little disturbed. "Are you sure you're Aaron's brother?"

Before I could answer, she grabbed my pants at the thighs and jerked them down hard. They stuck for a second on my cock, then slipped past and stopped around my knees. My underwear only made it to mid-thigh, but that seemed far enough. My rod had finally broken free, and stood straight out, bouncing up and down from its sudden release, almost catching Sandra in the eye.

She sat back and clapped her hands like a little girl, before quickly grabbing my shaft and holding me straight upright, against my belly. I groaned from the idea of a woman, any woman, especially this hot older woman, touching me there. She reached down and cupped my balls, gently testing them, turning my cock from side to side as she examined it. "Oh, Peter. I believe this is going to work out perfectly. You're everything your brother was, and maybe even just a little bit more. You are absolutely beautiful."

She turned her legs to the side and stood up, heading across the room to an aged roll-top desk. "Take everything off, everything."

My head was spinning and I could barely catch my breath. My heart was beating out of control. What was my brother into? I tried to breathe deeply, while taking off my shirt and undershirt, but found myself panting instead. I turned my head, watching my potential employer, in her tight form-fitting skirt that barely reached halfway down her thigh. By the time I was fully naked, and folding my clothing while I waited, she was strolling back to me, a smile on her face and a gleam in her eye.

"Tell me again. You REALLY are eighteen?"

"Yes, ma'am." I reached for my wallet and pulled out my driver's license, getting just a little irritated with this line of questioning.

Just a little.

"And how much experience have you had with the ladies? Do you have a girlfriend?"

"None really. I have a girl I'm dating, but that hasn't gone past first base yet."

"Really? Surely you're not a virgin?"

"Yes, ma'am," I told her, feeling the blood rushing to my face.

"Oh, this is too good. A blank sheet to write upon."

She moved in close and I could see the tiny wrinkles at the sides of her eyes, and above her lips. Little folds of flesh that screamed out 'experience' to me. She was almost my identical height, but I was barefoot, and her feet were encased in perfect heels, giving her a few additional inches of height.

"How tall are you, Peter?" she asked, moving forward and sniffing at my neck like I was an appetizer.

"Five feet, seven inches, since 10th grade," I confessed.

She moved in front of my face, with a decidedly skeptical glance, raising her finely trimmed eyebrows, just a little.

"Ok," I relented, "Five six and a half."

She brushed against me, my hard-on still waving in the air, begging for attention. As she walked around me, she slid her hand up my length, giving it a little tug and setting it bouncing again. Behind me, her hand continued it's teasing exploration, delving between my cheeks, sliding her hand all the way down to my balls, which were hugging up against my body in concern. Damned balls had better sense than I did.

By the time she was in front of me, I was trembling all over. She moved in and gave me a little hug, her hand moving down to stroke my cock softly while her lips and tongue tasted my neck. I was ready to scream.

"You take teasing, well, Peter. Good for you. I know what you want, and how badly you want it, but you're good to show restraint. That's very important in this job. Restraint separates the good from the great. Aaron showed remarkable restraint."

This job? Hell, I'd forgotten all about the job, enthralled by the actions of this amazing cougar, who I lusted after more than I had lusted after anybody in my life. And that includes Marci the cheerleader captain, Heather the majorette, and even my brother's new girlfriend.

She dropped to her knees before me, and my own almost buckled in anticipation. I barely avoided reaching out and grabbing her head to keep from falling. My hand passed by her ear, and I leaned over and grasped the arm of her chair, slowly stabilizing myself. I was dizzy in anticipation.

I straightened up slowly, spread my legs a bit and braced myself. Please God, let this happen. And please, please, don't let me embarrass myself.

"Patience, sweet child," she said softly. She reached for my cock with one hand stretching me out, until I was pointed directly at her face. She opened her lips, her tongue brushing the bottom one, and breathed hotly on my cock, coaxing moisture out the tip.

She giggled, "This is too good." Her second hand came in to play, and I saw she had a small tape measure, which she placed against my shaft. She reached back and pulled out a green marker, making a tiny line on my cock. She wrapped the tape around me, at that line, and carefully drew a circle around my shaft, sitting back and admiring her handiwork. She took my stiffness in her hand, at the edge of the line, and abruptly moved her face forward, my cock suddenly disappearing, her tongue brushing against me. She brought her face forward until her lips touched her fingers, and pulled away just as quickly. "That seems just about right."

She performed the ritual again, this time with a red marker, drawing a second circle maybe an inch closer to my body. I was expecting it this time when she took me in her mouth, and I groaned in appreciation. She pushed forward, and I felt myself pushing firmly against the back of her throat before her lips reached her fingers once more. She pulled back and smacked her lips lewdly.

"We're almost done, baby. You've been very good, and I promise you, Aunt Sandra's going to make it all worthwhile." She took one last measurement, measuring all the way to my body, but didn't make any more marks.

She sat back for a second, brushing her finger through the sparse curly hair normally hidden from view. She moved my cock back, pressing it against my body, and licked me. She started between my balls, and slowly drew her tongue upward until she hovered above my swollen purple head and licked the top thoroughly before pushing the tip of her tongue into the leaking slit at the top, making me gasp.

She put her lips against the head and sucked softly. I moaned loudly. "S...Sandra, I can't hold back much longer," I warned through gritted teeth.

She pulled back quickly and drew me after her, leading me to the dining room table. She had me stand at the place of honor, before leaning over and sucking me into her mouth, pushing down deeply, ensuring her pre-eminent spot in my memory for the rest of my life. She stroked and sucked, rapidly taking me to the point of no-return.

"SANDRA," I cried out, squeezing my ass cheeks together, before making one last thrust into her mouth.

Sandra pulled away, almost cat like, and pointed my loaded gun over her glass table. I felt my insides clench like a fist, and painfully settle their tightness around my balls, before ejecting a stream of white goo halfway down the table. She praised me, like one would a small child, or a pet, while her hand drew my seed out, launching a half-dozen more streams across the clear surface. The furthest drops were nearly three quarters the way down the table. I'd come hard before, usually into a paper towel or old sock, but never like that. No way.