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Back in the day there was a song called Me and Mrs. Jones. Well, there really was a Mrs. Jones and there really was ME.

I'm Teddy Willington, I'm a freshman at the state university and Mrs. Jones was actually Cynthia Jones, managing partner of a law firm. Mrs. Jones was married to Congressman Kenyatta Jones, who represented our district.

Congressman Jones was gay. His wife knew, but she was just about the only one. In return for keeping his secret, the Congressman agreed to let his wife play. He played with guys; she played with guys.

I'm not sure why Mrs. Jones chose me to play with. We lived in the same neighborhood and when I was in Junior High, I delivered their newspaper. She always smiled at me and gave me a generous tip at Christmas.

Now, I was at the university and she gave a speech at the law school. I made it a point to attend her speech and later re-introduce myself. "Teddy, of course, I remember you. If there's anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to ask. In fact, why don't you stop by my office next week. Call my secretary, make an appointment. It would be good to catch up."

To back track a bit, in high school, Sara McHugh and I dated. Not just dated, by senior year, we were fucking. Sara lived next door to Congressman and Mrs. Jones.

One day, Sara and I were making out, "Teddy, my sister Clara told me that if a guy wants to fuck me, he better be willing to eat my pussy. Teddy, do you want to eat my pussy." Clara was older and married. She always seemed to be smiling.

"Sara, I-I-I've never done that. You know that."

"Teddy, I've never let anyone. I wouldn't let anyone, but Teddy, I'd like you to be the first. We can learn what it feels like together."

That summer I ate Sara's pussy almost every day in her bedroom which happened to be on the side of her house which faced the Jones' house. In an age before air conditioning, Cynthia Jones overheard the goings on in Sara's bedroom through open windows in both homes.

What she heard was my almost daily improvement as a pussy eater. She heard Sara's moaning and begging for me to fuck her. Mrs. Jones heard it all.

Behind her office's closed doors, Mrs. Jones confided in me what she heard. "Teddy, Kenyatta has never, ever shown an interest in my pussy. I hope you might."

"Mrs. Jones, you're a lovely woman, but . . ."

"But I'm as old as your mother, and I'm black."

"I've never dated a woman as old as you, not that you're old."

You didn't mention the other part."

"I know it's a long way off, but I want to be a civil rights lawyer."

"So, you'll be an equal opportunity pussy eater," she laughed.

"And am I correct that the elderly, not that you're elderly, are also a protected class?" We both laughed.

Mrs. Jones made a reservation at a high-end but very discreet hotel near campus. Later, I learned that Congressman Jones also frequented the same hotel. As I said, it was very discreet.

We arrived separately; Mrs. Jones, first.

Before I go any farther, I should tell you that Mrs. Jones was 5'7" and long-legged. She was always dressed fashionably. Even if you saw her early in the morning, picking up the newspaper from her driveway, she

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Profile for Thomas B, incl. 74 stories Email: hstdr7522@outlook.com Add this author to your favorite author list Add this story to your favorite story list Send this story to me through email Recommend stories for further reading

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