Pete's Dirty Landlady

Hi followers.

It's been a while since I published anything. I've still been writing, but struggling to finish anything. I've got some much bigger projects I need to finish, but this one was mostly ready so I decided to try it first.

It's a pretty light hearted tale with some fun characters. The older woman/younger man theme is well-worn but always interesting to me.

I've split into two parts. The second is pretty much ready to go, but I'll wait to see how part 1 is received before hitting the button to publish.

Comments and follows are always gratefully received!

*******

"So, how's it been? Having a young man around the house -- it's a big place to have all to yourself, it must be nice to have some company?"

Angela considered her answer. Volunteering to receive a young student for the year had seemed like a sensible decision. Those spare rooms in her big house standing empty seemed criminal when she was singled out as a potential host in the parents evening meeting.

The school had close ties with the university in town, and parents were recruited each year to host students who were studying there in one of the several courses which offered an exchange with their sister university in the USA.

Technically she shouldn't even have been at that meeting -- Christian her son had left the school a couple of years ago. But she kept going to the meetings out of habit and because she, in all honesty, didn't have much else to do.

She worked Tuesday to Thursday for some spending money and just to keep busy, but the divorce had been favourable to her, and she was very much being kept in the manner she was accustomed to. There was no guilt from her side; if you fuck your secretary, you've got to take the consequences. And Mark was going to pay for his poor judgement with every pay cheque he received.

The large, four-bedroom house was clearly too much for her on her own, and, logically speaking, having a house guest was a very sensible decision. Especially as there was a grant that came from the university which meant she was actually making a little money on the deal.

But in the past week things had become a little awkward. Angela wondered how much she should tell Becky. On reflection, she decided her friend could be trusted. She'd known her as long as she could remember.

"It's been fine, in the main. Just got a little... shall we say, complicated... in the past few days."

"Oh yeah?" Angela saw her friend's eyes light up, and couldn't hold back a smile.

"This goes no further, OK?"

"Oh sure, of course," Becky said immediately and in a way which gave Angela absolutely no confidence in her sincerity.

"I'm serious. Listen. I'm telling nobody but you. So, if this comes back to me, I know exactly where it came from."

Becky's face became even more intrigued.

"OK! Sure, I promise. Just tell me!"

"Right. Well, yeah, Pete's been fine to have around -- great even, you might say. But just yesterday, he was away, and I noticed he'd left the light on in his room. So, I went in to turn it off, and..."

"Go on Ange!" Becky urged with an excited look plastered across her face. Angela shook her head, laughing at her friend's appetite for gossip.

"I know it's probably perfectly natural. Maybe anyway. But yeah. His room was a bit of a mess, fair enough. But down by the side of his bed, there was..."

Angela paused, partly for effect and partly with one last pang of doubt as to whether she should be revealing this. But it was too late now.

"He had a pair of my knickers. In his room. They were just lying there on the floor."

"Oh! Shit!" Becky's face told a different story to her words. This was some next-level gossip, but she'd sworn it would go no further. This was going to be more than a challenge for her. Nevertheless, there was plenty to discuss.

"Dirty little bastard!" She said with what could only be described as delight. Angela sighed.

"Yeah, really hilarious, I'm sure. But I've got him for another five months. How am I supposed to deal with some horny little teenager pinching my underwear and taking off to his room to..."

There was a loaded silence. Becky found it easier to say than Angela.

"To wank over," she giggled almost triumphantly.

"Yeah yeah, I'm sure it's really funny. But we've been getting on really well, it's all been great. I'm not sure how I look him in the face now."

Becky recognised she should dial it back a bit and did so.

"I'm sorry. Yes, I can see how that might make things difficult. I mean he's younger than your son, isn't he?"

"Two years," Angela nodded. "Christian was twenty last month."

Becky sat and considered for a minute in silence.

"I mean," she continued eventually. "In some ways... Don't get me wrong, I'm not minimising the situation, but..."

Angela raised her eyebrows, expecting an unhelpful contribution, which inevitably arrived.

"Looking at it from a different perspective, there's an argument that says an eighteen-year-old finding you attractive could be seen as a compliment."

"Finding me attractive is one thing, snatching my panties out of the washing and taking them off to his room to... well you know. That's something completely different."

"I guess so," Becky contemplated. Angela never really knew what Becky thought about anything, and this was no exception. Her friend been married for twenty years but loved to hear about those of their group who'd divorced and had found themselves single in their relatively advanced years. She joked around, but Angela suspected she'd swap places, given the chance.

"Still," Becky went on. "A teenage boy of that age, what do you expect? It's as inevitable as breathing. My Nathan, he's probably been responsible for several square miles of deforestation, the number of tissues he goes through."

"No! Little Nat?"

"Yep. Same as all of them Ange. As soon as he hit puberty, that was it. Lock on the bedroom door, dirty magazines under the mattress. You can't expect anything else. Honestly, thinking about it, I'd be more surprised if he wasn't pulling his little dick over you. You are a stunning woman, you must know that?"

Angela did know that. Modest as she was, it was impossible not to realise that she had a very strong effect on men. Everywhere she went, male eyes followed. Her body remained as shapely as it had been on her eighteenth birthday, and her face showed little sign of her true age. She might have recently hit forty, but thirty fit her much better.

"Yeah, maybe," she said doubtfully. "But taking my knickers? That feels like quite a violation. Whatever he wants to do in secret, that's one thing. But those were nice - really expensive. I'm not sure I can wear them again now."

"Oh Ange, don't be stupid. I'm sure there's nothing a good wash won't fix. If it was me, I'd just take it as a compliment. I can't imagine what it must feel like to be wanted like that."

"Oh, stop it. You are a good-looking woman too Becky, and you know it."

Becky shrugged.

"Maybe a few years ago. I don't bloody feel like it nowadays." She gestured to her frumpy dungarees, evidence of a mother who still spent most of her time chasing after children.

"Give it a few years, Becks. Once they are looking after themselves, you can start looking after yourself a bit better. I only had one, and I found it hard enough. Three, I don't know how you do it!"

"It's hard work," Becky acknowledged. "I do forget sometimes. What it's like to be a woman. I'm not joking, it would give me a real boost to know there was some young lad lusting after me sometimes."

Angela raised her eyebrows, but Becky was clearly being sincere.

"And," her friend continued, "would you rather he was repulsed, or found you attractive? Don't even answer that, there's only one way you can, without lying. My advice would just be to enjoy it. Don't encourage it, obviously, but it has to give you a little buzz, knowing you can still provoke that kind of reaction in someone half your age."

Angela felt a little better about things, when walking home. The truth was that once she'd sorted through the feelings of shock, shame and guilt, the thought of this young man seeking out her underwear, taking it back to his room and... well. What exactly might he have done? Sniffed them? Wrapped them around his...

Angela did not miss Mark, her ex-husband most of the time. He was extraordinarily overbearing, really superior -- pompous even. He used to love to tell Angela exactly what she thought about things and would totally disregard her opinions or experience with few exceptions.

His only saving grace, which was quite a big one, as it turned out, was he had an appetite for sex which almost equalled Angela's. Not quite, but he was the only man she'd ever met who could keep her interested, keep her guessing, provide an environment which she felt was interesting enough to stick with.

Mark had, uniquely from the limited partners Angela had been with, been very comfortable dominating her, degrading her even, in the bedroom. This was totally different to anything she'd experienced before, and Angela had found it shocking at first. But she found herself enjoying it, until over time it became almost a requirement for her to get off.

Weird as it seemed when she tried to analyse why she craved Mark slapping her across the face with his cock, or choking her almost to unconsciousness with a hand around her throat or a dick deep down it, the physical stuff was the one thing she really missed. Why did she miss Mark's sneer as he called her the most disgusting names? And why did her excitement increase directly in line with the amount of verbal abuse he dealt out?

She'd always known it wouldn't last. You couldn't base a relationship on sex. But you could have a lot of fun for a finite amount of time. And that's exactly what Angela had. And the second prize had been the house she was now approaching. Its big drive, which could easily house five or six cars, the pillars around the porch, and the pool and extensive gardens at the rear. It wasn't a bad place to end up.

Becky had said a lot. But the one thing Angela had taken from their conversation, reading between the lines, was that she didn't see anything desperately wrong about the situation Angela found herself in.

This helped a little. But it still didn't feel right. Angela forced herself to address it again. She was completely torn. On the one hand, she saw herself as the moral guardian of young Pete. She'd spoken to his parents at length. She was providing a roof over his head, two meals a day and a consistent home during his placement here at the local university.

At no point during discussions had the subject come up of what she should do if her ward was found to be masturbating over her underwear. So, there was no manual to tell her how to behave in this situation. But she suspected the correct course of action would be to pretend it had never happened and carry on regardless.

However, there was a part, a big part, of Angela who was missing her ex-husband, Mark. She didn't care about his conversation, his company, his inane chat over dinner. But she missed his lustful eyes on her body, his eager hands, roaming where only familiar hands could go. And she missed his cock.

This part of Angela kept nagging away with wicked, totally inappropriate thoughts, which amplified the closer she got to her front door. In her house, right now, was a horny young man who she now knew lusted after her.

The battle between the good and the bad Angela was, in the main, one-sided in favour of the good. Or at least it had been until the underwear incident. But today's conversation with Becky had left Angela with the realisation that there was a not insignificant part of her which craved the sort of attention Pete would be only too happy to provide. And which she had been without for what was beginning to seem a most unreasonable amount of time.

Angela deliberately avoided the living room, where Pete would no doubt be sitting in his shorts and t-shirt, and went straight to bed. She hoped that the morning would bring more clarity. She'd had several drinks today, and there was no doubt that alcohol encouraged 'bad' Angela.

Maybe the 'bad' side of her had dominated her dreams, but she found herself even more on the 'bad' side as she lay in bed and listened to Pete in the shower, before raising herself to prepare breakfast. This was a worry, as she couldn't blame the alcohol.

Angela looked in the mirror, telling herself that she was checking she wasn't dressing in a way that might give Pete any ideas. But the truth was the opposite. She could have worn trousers and a loose top. She would have, had she been alone. Instead, she'd opted for a tight sweater which very nicely accentuated her firm, D-cup breasts.

And under her skirt which rode just above the knee, she wore stockings. She had several sets, some which required one of her suspender belts to keep them up, and several hold-up types, like she wore today. There were a few arguments she could have made about how stockings were more practical when visiting the bathroom, but she didn't even try to persuade herself there was any reason other than the obvious one: they made her feel sexy.

As she admired herself in the long mirror beside the fridge, she knew she was sexy. And the real, inarguable confirmation of that had been her teenage house guest masturbating with her underwear.

Angela turned this way and that. Her brown hair, naturally wavy, bounced around her shoulders. She put her hands on her hips and pouted slightly. She looked pretty damn good for forty, there was no denying it.

She was feeling clearer now. Any feelings of upset or awkwardness about the situation had been thoroughly replaced by pride and happiness at what she'd discovered. She wasn't going to be blatant about it, but she wanted to give Pete a little inspiration, something to think about when he..."

"Morning!" Angela smiled as Pete entered the kitchen. She had bacon and eggs ready for her house guest, as she always did on a Friday.

"Hi," Pete said with his cheeky smile. He was really good looking, it couldn't be denied. Six feet of muscle, with straight, jet-black hair hanging around his face which stopped at a square jawline. His green eyes drilled into you with a sense that they could read your mind, Angela really hoped he couldn't. Or maybe she wanted him to, that might make things a lot simpler.

Angela! Pull yourself together!

She sat along the breakfast bar from Pete and crossed her legs. The top of her stocking was tantalisingly close to being revealed.

"Got a busy day today?" she enquired casually. ("Did you wank over me again last night?" were the words echoing around her head).

"Yeah, kind of," Pete replied between forkfuls. "Long, but I've got four hours between lectures in the middle of the day there. But I'll be out all day."

"What time will you want to be eating?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry Mrs Strachan."

"Angela! How many times!"

"Oh yeah, sorry, Angela. I can put myself something together from what's in the fridge, I'm sure."

"I'm sure you can, but I wouldn't hear of it," Angela insisted. "Give me a text when you know, and I'll have something ready for you."

"Angela, you're amazing. The other guys over here, they don't get anything like what you do for me. It's really appreciated, you are too good to me."

"I'm just glad to be able to help you out," Angela replied. "I know it's a really important year for you, so I'm glad to be able to take some of the weight off you. I do get paid you know."

"Yeah, sure, I know. But you really go the extra yard. It's really nice to have you here looking after me."

"Not a problem," Angela smiled again. "Hopefully it will all be worth it when your grades come in eh?"

"Hopefully," Pete said, grabbing his bag and slipping his shoes on. "Got to run -- see you later Ange"

Angela found herself in her kitchen, alone. Friday was the start of her long weekend. Ordinarily she'd have gone to the gym, or settled down in front on some inane daytime TV, but today she felt the urge to head back to Pete's room.

"This is a bit of a betrayal of privacy," she told herself. "But so is stealing your landlady's underwear. So, we're evens there."

Suitably persuaded as to the legitimacy of her actions, she found herself inhaling the familiar scent that had departed when Christian had left home. A single young man brought with him quite a distinctive smell. Left unchecked it can quickly become unpleasant, but Pete was, from a hygiene perspective, much more conscientious than her son. She liked the smell, and took a couple of long, deep breaths to savour it.

Since he moved in, she'd only been in here that one time, and she'd beaten a hasty retreat after the shocking discovery of her knickers on his floor. That was no longer shocking to Angela. In fact, the thought of it now brought a wicked smile to her face.

Her underwear was no longer there; he'd cleaned up after himself. Angela stood at the head of his bed, sheets bundled together and unmade. Her eyes locked onto the waste-paper basket in the corner of the room by the head of the bed. There were four or five little crumpled balls of Kleenex in there. Maybe he'd had a cold, or...

She found herself feeling under his mattress. Even forgetting what Becky had said, Angela knew what was likely to be under there. She'd had a teenage son too. Sure enough, she pulled out a magazine. 'Readers Wives'.

Angela felt a little rush of excitement. Back when she was married to Mark, she'd been persuaded to pose for some naughty pictures, and had been published on these very pages on more than one occasion.

In each of the shoots her identity had been concealed, but the thought that young men like Pete would have been getting themselves all worked up over her naked body had been a very intense inspiration when they'd sent in the pictures.

Initially she'd done it for Mark, and she'd been quite scared at the thought of someone finding out. He'd been extremely persistent - threatening even. She felt her discomfort, that first time she slipped her knickers down for the camera, even now. But once she saw herself on the pages, and let her mind wander to exactly what these pictures meant, her attitude changed.

Whilst she didn't let on to Mark just how much, she was secretly just as excited as he was with this little illicit, dirty hobby. Her heart was thumping right now, as she leafed through the pictures of other women - braver girls than her, who had opted to let the world see their faces, as well as the rest of their bodies.

Angela couldn't help herself. She lay back in Pete's bed. She could smell him on the sheets. How many times had he lay back here, all worked up over these dirty pictures. How many times had his thoughts strayed to his landlady, alone and frustrated in the same building. How many of those little crumpled deposits of crusty tissue paper in the bin were prompted by thoughts of Angela herself?

Angela's knickers were now discarded. She could see herself in the mirror on Pete's wardrobe door, and her face was a picture of pure lust. Two fingers were flashing across her clit, and her stocking-clad legs were splayed wide open.

"Oh, fuck! Angela, you dirty little slut!" she admonished herself with delight, a climax which was days in the making washing over her.

As soon as she gathered herself, 'good' Angela took over. This Angela couldn't believe what she'd been up to, and made it clear this was an aberration and that nothing like that could ever happen again.

Within half an hour, bad Angela was back. The trigger was a spot on 'This morning' on TV, where a cyber-security guest had explained how unwanted visitors to your home network could be identified by checking logs on your Wi-Fi router.

This set Angela's mind ticking over. She could picture Pete in his room, on his tablet or laptop, no doubt visiting all sorts of 'interesting' websites. She knew he would be, because Christian was, at that age, constantly consuming all sorts of disgusting material. It was undoubted. She wondered what sort of things Pete liked to watch, when he was...

When he was lying back, probably wrapping Angela's panties around his strong, hard dick. Using the material to bring himself off, whilst watching...

Watching what? This guy seemed to be saying that all the sites visited by anyone connected to the Wi-Fi would be recorded in the router somewhere. You just had to know where to look.

It was surprisingly easy. Angela's router was a very commonly used one, and there was a guide right there when she googled 'How to check log of websites visited' including her router name.

This was probably a bigger breach of Pete's privacy than poking around his room and feeling under his mattress. Certainly, it was. But...

"You started it, Pete. If you must steal my knickers, I can't be responsible for what happens next..."

Angela wasn't a prude by any means. But she had never appreciated the amount and the explicit nature of the pornography available on the internet these days.

When her phone buzzed it was after five o'clock. She'd spent the day watching each and every link Pete had clicked in full. Her mind was somewhat blown. She was completely down the rabbit hole.

At first, it was a bit shocking. Some of the thing those girls did! And they were so pretty. The guys too, all of them, so muscular, so hard!

Shock had very quickly faded to fascination. It took a little while to get used to seeing all of this stuff. Full, uncensored sex. So blatant, so clear, and so fucking hot! Angela found she had quite an appetite for it.

Pete's viewing had a recurring theme: 'MILF takes on two hard cocks'. 'Headmistress teaches pupil how to behave'. 'Wife opens her legs for strangers'. 'Soccer mom gets gangbanged'.

"MILF. Mother I'd Like to Fuck," she'd told herself. She could see the times and the frequency Pete had been watching this stuff. Every night, as soon as he went to bed, he was at it. Older women, nearly all of it.

Pete was constantly in here, wanking over videos of women just like Angela. Fucking younger men, just like him.

And now he was on the phone, letting her know he'd be back within the hour. Angela's heart was thumping. She churned it over in her mind again and again as she prepared his mac and cheese. This hadn't changed anything, good Angela kept repeating. She was to all intents and purposes Pete's guardian. This was a massive breach of his private space. What he did in the solace of his own room was his business. She should never have made herself aware of what his interests were.

But she did! She knew! He fucking started this, stealing her knickers and wanking with them.

Shit! Angela!

She just about managed to gather herself before Pete arrived home. As the meal had baked in the oven, she'd spent a great deal of time deciding how she'd be dressed when Pete arrived. This was so fucking exciting, Angela felt like a teenager as she posed in the mirror in outfit after outfit.

She settled on a knee-length skirt and a blouse combination which she'd seen on at least two of the MILFs on Pete's videos. This seemed to be a uniform for the type of women he seemed to enjoy. The stockings and suspenders beneath were purely for her own entertainment, as was neglecting to put any panties on. The feeling of air on her bare pussy under her skirt was an incredibly sexy sensation she'd not experienced for some time.

"Hi Pete!" Angela forced herself to act normal. A lot had changed since this morning, but if Pete knew, it would undoubtedly make things a bit weird. And so, they had dinner as normal, the only difference being Angela had one button less than usual holding her blouse together. She noted with satisfaction that Pete's eyes did not miss the change.

After they retired to bed, Angela sat with her laptop, refreshing the logs from the router. As expected, in a few minutes Pete was watching a video featuring a wife of a similar age to herself being filmed by her husband as two young men of a similar age to Pete set about her with surprising eagerness.

As Angela brought herself to another climax she wondered whether Pete was doing the same. She wondered whether he was using her underwear as inspiration again. She found herself hoping that he was.

'Good' Angela was a barely audible echo in the back on her mind as she awoke. Angela had a wicked thought which had been present as she awoke, no doubt a remnant of some dirty dream she'd been harbouring, and she meant to action it before Pete awoke.

Angela's kitchen had a pulley which she used to hang and dry washing on. She'd realised this was likely where Pete had obtained the pair of her panties which she'd found on his floor. When Pete entered the kitchen he was greeted by two pleasant sights. Angela had this morning opted for a crop top which hung very attractively over her not inconsiderable bust, baring her flat stomach, together with what could only be described as pink hotpants.

This would have been impressive enough in itself. But Angela had also done a wash this morning and her stocking and suspender set from the previous day was drying on the pulley. Pete couldn't miss them, he had to duck slightly to avoid them as he made his way towards the table.

"Weekend then," Angela stated with a smile. "Any plans?"

"Not really," Pete smiled back politely. "Oh, except, I was wondering. My college football team are playing tonight, it's a really big one. My buddy Kirk was wanting to come over. We can stream the game onto the big TV, if that's OK with you?"

"Oh, I see. What time?"

"Kick-off here is eight-thirty."

"Right. Well, I don't see why not. I'll make myself scarce and you are welcome to the living room."

"No need to make yourself scarce, unless you want to. That's much appreciated Ange!"

There was something about the way Pete had started saying 'Ange'. Something familiar and flirty. Angela loved it, and her smile told Pete to continue doing it.

Although the day might have seemed to be inconsequential, for Angela it was almost unbearably exciting. Pete was, for the most part, holed up in his room. But that meant he was on the internet, and Angela followed his moves religiously.

For an hour or two he checked out standard pages, stuff about tonight's game, school schedules for next week. But when the links she received became, as they inevitably did, pornographic, she followed him into a video where a 'stepmother' taught her ward some very sexy lessons.

Angela waited just the right amount of time before approaching Pete's door. She could picture him inside. She was delighted to see her stockings missing from the pulley as she came through the kitchen. Fucking hell that was so hot! Almost certainly he 'd have one of them wrapped around his hard cock right now! Almost panting with arousal, she knocked on his door.

"Er, hang on!" was the panicked reply.

"Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if you want me to get you anything in for tonight? Pizza, snacks?"

"Oh, right." Pete's voice came back through the door, trying to sound as normal as possible. "Sure, whatever you think!"

"No worries, I'm just nipping out to the shop now then."

When Angela returned, she noted her stockings were again hanging from the pulley in the kitchen. Pete had finished with them.

Pete's friend Kirk arrived around eight. Angela noted his approving glance to his friend. He'd clearly had a detailed description of Pete's landlady. She felt her heart flutter a little. It turned out that, once she let herself enjoy it, being an object of lust for eighteen-year-old boys was extraordinarily exciting, no matter how often 'good' Angela tried to tell her otherwise.

She left them to it, fighting a surprising and in some ways unwelcome desire to hang around them. It took her back to her youth, when she and her girlfriends would fall over themselves for the attention of the older guys, the ones with cars and money.

Angela was past all that now, and these boys were less than half her age. Even if that's how she felt, she couldn't let them know that she was starting to feel like having the attention of Pete and his friend was becoming a craving. She could think about little else.

No. Even if it wasn't how she really felt, she meant for Pete to believe that she was oblivious to that sort of thing. It made every interaction a game. Being the object of desire for such a good looking and eligible young man was something she was going to have fun with.

If only -- oh shit, wait! Angela had a brainwave.

In excitement, she entered the office. This used to be Mark's little hideaway. He did work from there, but it was also his 'man cave' and housed his PlayStation, dartboard and the like.

But it was also the centre of Mark's home security centre. Angela didn't have much to do with it, but she knew it was all still functional. Mark was a bit of a nerd with this stuff. Switching on the big screen she saw a grid of eight different camera views across the house and garden. And there, as she'd hoped, was the living room, where Pete and Kirk sat and watched the game.

She tried a few remote controls before she found one that worked, and managed to focus on that one camera, expanding it to fill the full screen. She jumped because, as soon as that screen was selected, the audio from the room began coming from the TV.

Angela stood in awe and anticipation. This was an interesting development! After five minutes or so of nothing happening, though, other than the occasional urging on of an invisible ball carrier, or a swig of beer, she began to have some nagging doubts.

"Jesus. What am I doing? Am I really going to stand here and spy on these two poor lads? That's pretty sad, Angela." She switched off the screen and headed back out to the kitchen.

It had been over an hour since she'd last seen them, so she grabbed a couple of cold beers and a large bag of tortilla chips and headed back to the living room. As she passed through the hall, she glanced at herself in the mirror.

Her mind drifted back to the videos she'd been watching earlier. All the disgusting things Pete had enjoyed watching women of a similar age doing. And her stockings! Shit! She reminded herself this wasn't just Angela being a desperate old woman. None of these thoughts would have even emerged if it wasn't for Pete taking her underwear. He started it!

With this in her mind she found herself unbuttoning one more button on her blouse. And she slipped off her slippers and stepped into her heels. She always felt more attractive in heels. And she wanted to feel attractive.

The guys sat up with a start as she opened the door without announcement.

"Oh, Hi Ange," Pete said immediately. Kirk nodded and smiled.

"How are you doing for beers? I know things are tight for you students, and I've got loads in the garage. Mark left quite a supply, and I don't drink the stuff, so you'll be helping me out. Here."

She leaned over casually and passed each of them a fresh can. As she did so, she ensured eyes would be just able to see tantalisingly down her blouse. She knew exactly what angle to stand, and for how long, to strike just the right balance between 'did she do that on purpose' and 'she has no idea how sexy she is.'

"Wow, thanks Mrs..."

"Angela, please!" she smiled at Kirk, who was topping up his glass.

"I'm going to have to visit Pete more often!" Kirk said, although the way he was admiring his cold beer left some doubt as to the reason. "A garage full of beer you say?"

"It's no good to me. Don't go getting any ideas though, I don't mind Pete having a guest over, but no parties or anything!"

"Don't worry Ange!" Pete assured his landlady. "That's really good of you, and we won't take the mickey. Cheers!"

Both boys raised a glass to their host and Angela made to depart. Just before she rounded the couch, in the most optimal viewing spot, she 'accidentally' dropped the empty can she was holding, and took time to bend fully over, letting her skirt ride up just a little, and showing off her legs which she knew were amongst her best assets. Without a word, she pulled the door closed behind her.

The show on the monitor in the office was a bit more entertaining now. Any misgivings about her behaviour were firmly pushed aside as she rushed in to see the aftermath of her appearance. That little display must have initiated some sort of reaction.

Sure enough, the guys were deep in conversation, their lowered tones still clearly audible via the camera's microphone.

"That's what I've been telling you man!" Pete was explaining to his friend. "Absolute dynamite, isn't she? Fucking hell man, what would you give for just a minute burying your head into those big tits!"

"You weren't exaggerating," Kirk agreed. "I'm not usually one for an older woman, but she's fucking perfect, isn't she? So classy looking, but you can tell she's a fucking ten under the hood too. Those legs! Fuck!"

This continued, with the game providing less of a distraction, for a little while at least. Angela stood and absorbed the proclamations of lust she'd encouraged with her little visit with a sense of huge pride and no less arousal.

It's one thing to guess and suppose at the effect you may be having on a man. But hearing it confirmed first-hand, loud and clear like this, was something else. And the pleasure was doubled as the two young men bounced their thoughts off each other.

"How do you know she wears stockings?"

"Yeah, about that. I might have just... jerked off with one of them earlier today!"

Angela went weak at the knees at Pete's words.

"Fuck off! You serious?"

"Yep. Shit, man, I couldn't help it. They were just hanging there in the kitchen, drying. The full kit, man, suspender belt and all!"

"Oh, shit Pete! You are a lucky SOB ain't you? How the fuck did you land this place, and I've got to share with the Adams family!"

"Oh, I know it, every time I lay eyes on her I thank my lucky stars. I was worried mind you -- she went into the kitchen before I'd put them back! But she didn't seem to notice."

"What a pervert you are bud," Kirk shook his head, but it was clear he'd have done the same in Pete's position. "Do you think she wears them all the time? Stockings?"

"It's hard to say isn't it. Fuck knows, but I can just imagine seeing her out of that blouse and that tight skirt. What a sight that would be."

"I bet she sucks cock like a pro," Kirk had a vivid imagination. Pete didn't disagree.

"I fucking know she would. You can tell, can't you. Those lips, and those eyes. I can just imagine her looking at me, full porn star eye contact, while her head bobs up and down. She'd take it deep, right in her throat."

Angela had hardly noticed her hand creeping down the front of her skirt, or the other roughly kneading her left breast through her blouse. But now she realised she was standing there, masturbating, as she watched two college boys discuss how much they lusted after her, and what they dreamed about seeing her do.

The next morning, she enjoyed her usual Sunday morning lie-in, accompanied for the first time in months by her trusty rabbit vibrator. The night had been a beautiful blur. Despite a considerable part of her willing herself to just strip off and give herself to those two horny lads, she'd managed to control herself, instead settling for another visit with some more drinks, and a friendly chat about the game.

She didn't think the nipples straining against the white material of her blouse could possibly have gone unnoticed, and so it proved, as she retired back to her viewing station to delight in the two enthusing about her 'perfect' tits and how much they'd love to get their hands (and other parts) on them.

She was feeling a little embarrassed that, when she'd heard Pete pass her door on his way to the bathroom, rather than smother her vibrator to dull the noise, or turn it off for a minute, she found herself turning it up to the maximum speed and throwing her duvet off. It was like she was willing him to stop and hear, to guess what she was doing.

For about five minutes after she'd calmed down, she tried to make normal plans for the day. But it was no good. The situation she was in was just too ridiculously exciting. Wicked little thoughts and ideas kept working their way back into her mind, even as she planned the evening's dinner.

Angela knew this wasn't good. She needed to put some distance between her and the house. So, she met up with Becky for some lunch.

"Out with it then?"

"What?" Angela said. But she knew her face was telling Becky a story.

"Don't pretend there's nothing on your mind. What's going on with you? You only ever want to go out on an afternoon if you've got something to talk about."

"Yeah, well, not this time. To tell you the truth, I'm trying to take my mind off it... Off something."

"Go on!"

Anela offered token resistance, but both girls knew Becky would hear the full story. And as the alcohol flowed, Angela found herself retelling it again, embellishing some parts with a relish which Becky couldn't fail to notice.

"You are a fucking sex offender!" Becky said, far too loud, after Angela had revealed how she'd been willing Pete to hear her vibrator this morning. "Seriously!"

"I mean, can you imagine a guy -- Mark, for example. Imagine if you found out he'd taken on an eighteen-year-old student, a girl, and was wanking loudly in his room when she walked past. And spying on her with hidden fucking cameras!"

"They aren't hidden," Angela said defensively. "Shit, that sounds so dodgy. But it's different, isn't it? I mean, imagine if Mark heard that girl talking to her friend about how hot he was. That would change things a bit, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe," Becky grinned.

"And if he found out she was watching dirty videos about young girls with older men?"

"But how would he find out? By being a complete stalker! Trawling through fucking router logs! How the fuck did you even know you could see what websites he was going on?"

"It was on 'This Morning'," Angela said. Her face had dropped noticeably. "Shit, Becks, do you really think I'm that bad?"

"Oh undoubtedly," Becky said solemnly. "But you can't pretend it's not different for boys. Oh, fuck it! Who am I kidding! I don't think I'd have the balls to actually do anything about it, but I'm absolutely in awe of you Ange! I'd give anything to feel what you must be feeling now, every time you go home, I bet?"

Angela felt the weight lifting slightly. Yes, she was behaving very badly. But her friend, if anything, was jealous, not disapproving.

"Shit yes! I can't lie, knowing there's all that desire pent up, just for me. Oh Becky, what the fuck am I going to do? I can't do anything about it, how could I? I've met his parents! He's here for another three months, it could get really complicated."

"It could, couldn't it? I don't know Ange. All I can say is I've not seen you this alive since... I don't know. Before we were married, anyway."

Angela's meeting with Becky didn't have the effect she'd hoped for. Far from dampen things down and give her renewed strength to go back to being an ordinary landlady, instead she found wild ideas flashing through her mind.

The first was one of the worst. And she resisted for over a week. But finding that magazine under Pete's bed had reminded her of the other copies of the same magazine that were locked in the Ottoman at the foot of her bed.

There were four copies of 'Reader's Wives' right there. Each contained a different set featuring Angela stripping out of various outfits for her husband's camera.

They'd been discreet. Her face was covered, either by an arm, a carefully positioned hat, or, in one set, a masquerade-style mask. But the shoots had been explicit. Angela had protested a bit, and Mark had pushed her beyond her comfort-zone, but when the results were published, she was glad.

These four magazines were now sitting in the sideboard drawer in the living-room. Angela had toyed with leaving them out on the coffee table, but that would have blown her cover entirely. Them being so easily accessible lent every second Pete spent in that room the most delightful air of fear and anticipation. At any time, he could open that drawer.

Angela had already excused their presence. "Don't forget this is really Mark's house. I can't find the time to clear out all his old stuff," she'd already said more than once, when finding tools, or a PlayStation controller which Pete had been pleased to receive as a replacement.

So having some dirty magazines stashed away could easily be explained without embarrassment. But when Pete opened the pages...

Was she recognisable? Her face was definitely covered in every shot, so possibly not. But the one sure giveaway was that all of the sets were taken in this very house. Three of the four had been in her bedroom, which wasn't somewhere Pete spent a lot of time. Although he did still like to pop in to grab some of her underwear to masturbate with from time to time. Angela had taken to leaving some out for him.

But one of the sets. If he happened to see that one, there was a big chance she'd be recognised. For two reasons -- for one, she was dressed (and undressed) in a very familiar outfit, which she wore around Pete all the time. That sheer, white blouse, knee-length pencil skirt and heels. The very same pair of shoes she still slipped into when she wanted to feel glamorous.

Even that could be explained away. But the fact the shoot was taken in the very living room Pete sat in each night was the giveaway. Sure, other people may have the same three-piece, or the same carpet. And those curtains were pretty popular. But the combination of all of them, with Angela's naked body at the forefront. That was the thought that drove her to sit and watch Pete watching TV each night.

Pete sat just yards from material which would absolutely blow his mind. That knowledge kept Angela at the precipice of an orgasm, over which she frequently allowed herself to tumble, for unbearable hours and days.

It was after another Sunday boozy session with Becky that she took matters into her own hands. Pete might just sit there forever, completely oblivious to the excitement that was within touching distance. And Pete's excitement was Angela's excitement. She craved the moment of realisation, when Pete knew! And, even better, when Angela knew he knew!

And so, her devilish plan was implemented.

"Well, I'm going to treat myself to a nice long bath with candles," she'd announced, not long after dinner. When she returned a few minutes later Pete was already sitting down in front of a game -- Sunday evening in the UK seemed to fit with the American football schedule and Pete was a fan.

"I don't suppose you've seen a lighter knocking around somewhere, have you?" she said innocently. I've got my candles lined up, I could have sworn there was some matches in the bathroom cabinet, but no.

"I'm sure Mark used to keep a lighter in here somewhere. Or maybe the kitchen."

Pete stood and made to leave the room.

"It's OK, I can check the kitchen, I don't want you missing your game. But if you wouldn't mind having a root around in here?"

Pete called her in a few minutes later. He was wearing a poker face, but she knew the lighter he handed over had been sitting right on top of the pile of dirty magazines, because that's where she'd put it.

Angela followed up on her promise of a long bath, nearly falling asleep a couple of times. And she went straight to bed, wild thoughts spinning through her head of what Pete might do with what he'd found tonight.

Angela's plan wasn't just to know Pete had seen her. She needed to see him, to gauge his reaction, witness what he did. And so, before she'd even brought up the lighter, she'd set the camera in the living room recording.

And now, in the cold light of morning, no excuse of alcohol to lean on, she was sitting in the office playing it back. Angela knew she could have made sure she was present when Pete found the magazines. In some ways this would have been as exciting. But it also would have made things different.

This way they could both carry on as if nothing had changed. But the whole thing would have been jacked up several levels. For Pete, because, once he put the pieces together, he'd have some real, hard evidence of his landlady's sexual past. Right there in several appearances in his favourite magazine.

And for Angela, well. This was something she'd been dreaming about for weeks. She'd sat in this same spot willing Pete to happen upon her naked pictures. Now it had happened, and she could relive it at will. Almost as soon as Pete had left for class, she was ready to start.

Angela laughed at her drunken self winking dramatically into the camera as she turned and left for the kitchen. She'd forgotten she'd done that.

This was it. Pete opened the drawer and pulled out the lighter. For a moment she thought he hadn't noticed. He'd closed the drawer and turned away, before doing a hilarious double-take and revisiting the contents.

She could almost sense his excitement through the camera as he just stood and gawped at the open drawer, before seemingly pulling himself together and calling Angela back in to retrieve the lighter. Again, Angela grinned at the camera, as delighted then as she was now at her clandestine behaviour.

"Now what are you going to do, Pete," Angela whispered to herself. Pete stood and moved towards the door listening, Angela realised, for sounds of her getting into the bath.

Once he was safe, he took out the top magazine before realising there was more than one and relaxing onto the couch with all four. Angela needn't have doubted it. A teenage boy was physically incapable of ignoring something like that.

Angela couldn't make out which one it was, but Pete flicked carelessly through one of the magazines. Occasionally he'd turn the page ninety degrees to get a better angle, and a couple of times he flicked back to revisit something which had stuck in his memory.

Pete was thorough, if nothing else. It was a full fifteen minutes before he picked up the second volume. This was it! Angela recognised the cover. Right after the centrefold he'd find himself looking at pictures of the very room he was now sitting in.

Even before he got there, she realised he must have one hand on his cock. He began resting the magazine down on the couch before turning the page and lifting it again, all one-handed. Angela quite liked that she couldn't actually see anything, for now at least. Her imagination was probably more exciting than the reality.

She also liked the low groan he emitted every so often, which was accompanied by a brief intense flurry of activity with his right arm, judging by the movement of his shoulder.

It was time. Pete abruptly froze. Angela saw him glance around the room and then back to the pages, repeating this several times.

Pete leapt to his feet. Angela laughed as his firm length was finally revealed, poking comically out of his jeans. He was just as big and thick as Mark. Probably more, it was hard to tell from this angle. Pete was turning from page to page in wonder. It seemed he was proving to himself that he couldn't be mistaken.

"Ange! Oh fucking yes!" he said out loud. Now he was kneeling on the floor, and there was nothing to conceal his modesty. The camera gave a very clear view of Pete, who had yanked his jeans and boxers down to below his knees, flicking back and forth between the four pages of her set, pulling his dick furiously as he took in this unlikely surprise.

"You beautiful, dirty, stunning, gorgeous fucking WHORE!" He was ejaculating now. He fell backwards and milked himself onto his stomach, groaning and catching four or five full streams of sperm on his t-shirt.

Angela watched on in stunned silence as he removed his semen-covered top, cleaned his cock with it and disappeared for a few minutes, before returning in a change of shirt.

Pete was visibly stunned and spent a long time just absorbing that one set. Then he moved on to the next. Angela could sense the lightbulb moment, he suddenly went back to the first magazine, leaving it open and moving onto the next.

Soon he had all four magazines spread open in front of him. Angela was squirming with arousal now. That last set, she could remember it well. Mark had pushed things way beyond where Angela was comfortable. She could remember being terrified as he took those pictures -- what if people from work spotted her? Or Christian or his friends?

In the end it had taken half a bottle of gin, and some severe words from Mark. But it was worth it.

Angela could still feel the initial reluctance, embarrassment and shame as she'd parted her legs for her husband's camera. Some of the other shots, they'd been quite explicit, sure. But all still could be described as artistic.

This set was different. She was dressed for sex, in leather boots, her mask and nothing else. Only the first picture was anything other than dirty, as she stood and smiled out at her audience. But as the page turned, the reader was greeted by Angela perched on the edge of her bed, legs stretched as far apart as possible, giving the reader free reign to appreciate her bare pussy in all its glory.

Angela watched Pete take this in, and silently thanked Mark for his persistence. There was nothing more she wanted in the world than for Pete to see her exposed and vulnerable like this.

Each picture featured Angela presenting her vagina to the camera from all angles. She remembered that shame and self-consciousness dissolving as the arousal, the gin, and the sight of her husband masturbating throughout egged her on.

By the time the last picture in the set was taken, which Pete was about to turn to now, she could remember a little trickle of fluid leaking out and moistening her perineum and anus, as she blatantly stretched her wet little hole open for the thousands of readers.

"You are such a beautiful, sexy whore," Mark had assured her. "Everyone is going to be wanking over you whenever they see this, you know that don't you?"

She hadn't really registered it until now, but it was an incredible feeling. And, sure enough, Pete was squeezing his eager young dick over her again. And now Angela had two fingers sliding into herself as she watched her young house guest getting hard for her once more.

He was on his phone now, and she had to rewind to catch what he was saying.

"Kirk! Buddy, what are you doing tomorrow after class?"

And now, after dinner, having made her excuse of an early night, Angela was sitting in her spot, secretly preparing to watch Pete and Kirk catching up. To see another young man receive the shocking and exciting news that Pete's landlady had frequently exposed herself on the pages of adult magazines.

She searched for possible excuses. There was a small fee, twenty pounds per picture, paid by the publishers to those who submitted pictures. That wasn't the sort of money she could use as a reason for motivation.

She toyed with the idea of pleading victimhood. After all, it was partly true. Mark had pressured her into doing that stuff. She would never have done anything like that without his domineering, sometimes threatening presence.

The trouble was, though, that Mark's heavy-handed nature was something that she'd responded to positively throughout their relationship. She'd wanted it, craved it even. Being reduced to a plaything, a toy, titillation for men to leer over. And to masturbate over. She'd loved it then, and she loved it even more now.

And the evidence was there in her soaking pussy, spread open on the pages of the magazine Pete was about to show his friend. Literally dripping, the camera catching it so clearly, leaving no doubt. She loved it. And, she realised, as she gently gyrated in her seat, she was equally wet and worked up right now.

Angela couldn't deny it. She didn't want to. She was proud of what she'd done, and she couldn't wait to hear the boys discuss just what Pete's dirty landlady had been up to.