Mitchell and Anne Marie: A chapter from "Helping Out"

[TiredFingers]

Mitchell and Anne Marie:
The Computer Geek and the Teacher

(A chapter from "Helping Out")

(Link back to where this 1x1 began)​

Explanation: This is an ongoing interaction between two characters from the roleplay, "Helping Out". We are writing this here because it is easier to both write and read outside of the main IC thread. This first post is a word for word copy of the post in the main IC thread that lead to this 1x1.)

Roxanne's Cafe, Toland
Saturday, March 29, 2025

Mitchell Walters entered Roxanne's with a skip and a jump in his step, calling to the girl behind the counter, "Betty! My usual, if you don't mind."

She laughed at him, saying, "What is this, a bar?"

Mitch, as everyone called him, had been a regular at Roxanne's for years, but not in the way most regulars were thought of.

His life wasn't exactly what he'd thought it was going to be when he was younger. He'd been somewhat of a geek all the way through school, learning about both computer hardware and software. He'd had ambitions of going to MIT, getting his degrees, going to work for a big software corporation, and ultimately developing something on his own that would turn him into an instant billionaire when he sold it to Microsoft or Apple or one of those big companies.

Things hadn't turned out that way. MIT hadn't happened. University anywhere hadn't happened. He'd started at TCCC, but it had closed down. Getting to the Carlton Creek or Magnus campuses hadn't been an option either as transportation had been an issue.

Mitch's father had died when he was little. His mother had slowly been overwhelmed by addiction to whatever was available. She was now doing 5-7 for vehicular manslaughter after a DUI accident left a 9 year old dead on the streets of Capital City.

He'd been working a variety of jobs while living in a room above a friend's garage. He didn't have much, but he wasn't living on the streets eating out of garbage cans, either. He came to Roxanne's most evenings, did a couple of chores for Dick, helped Betty clean up, and went away with a take-out dinner that the two of them put together for him. Sometimes it was stuff that Dick needed to cook before it went bad. Sometimes it was pickup orders that had been forgotten. But sometimes Dick made him something special, something he ordered then and there.

Then, Monday, Dick handed Mitch an envelope, saying, "This was left for you. Don't know who it came from."

That was a lie, of course. Toland's recently arrived benefactor had heard that Mitch wanted to be a computer consultant. he wanted to help people with anything and everything computer or internet related. He had the experience and knowledge to do it. He simply hadn't had the opportunity to do it. Until Dick had handed him an envelope with $5,000 in it.

"What ... the ... fu-u-u-uck, Dick?" Mitch had exclaimed.

"That's for hardware, software, advertising, training," the cafe owner said. "Whatever you need. The only stipulation, as it was explained to me, is that you help people in Toland who need help. Honestly, I think that's about anyone with a computer these days, isn't? I mean, things change so fast."

That had happened on Monday. And every day since, when he came in for his dinner, Mitch caught Dick up on what he'd done so far. (Mitch didn't believe that some anonymous stranger had left the money. He believed that the money had come from Dick himself."

Mitch came in and headed for the janitor's closet to get the broom and mop. But he slowed as he passed by an incredible creature sitting alone in a booth. He wasn't the ogling type, but this woman was incredible. He didn't recognize her right away, but after a few steps his brain started spinning with memories. He stopped and turned to stare at her -- at her face which seemed somehow familiar and at her boosted tits which most certainly did not.

Then, suddenly and shockingly, it came to him. Stepping back the woman's way, he asked with a shocked tone, "Miss Peterson...!!"

Her reaction verified her identity, leading him to go on gushing, "My God! What? I mean. What happened to you?"

He couldn't help but let his gaze shift between her face and breasts. "I mean, wow! You look great!"

He could see that she didn't recognize him. The last time she'd seen him had to have been 2018 when he was a Sophomore at Toland High. Mitch had been heavier then by 30 pounds and had still growing into his current height. He'd been wearing thick glasses and sporting a face full of pimples and a bad haircut courtesy of his drug-addicted mother.

Since then, he'd really come into his current look. He was 5'10" tall now and a fit 185 pounds. His glasses had been replaced by contacts, his face had cleared, and his hairstylist-neighbor had begun trading him periodic hair care for mowing her lawn and teaching her kids how to play educational video games that were a few years ahead of their current learning level.

He smiled wide as he took another step forward, saying with joy, "It's Mitch. Mitchell Walters."

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Anne Marie had been in Roxanne’s a few times over the past year, never at their busy time, always in a hurry as she was running errands after dropping off the boys with Kyle’s parents. That’s why nobody else was making a fuss over her – they’d already been through the “wow, you look great” phase. And besides, she wasn’t there to show off her body – she got healthy for the sake of being healthy, and a good wife and mom needs to be able to … do certain things. Like chase down a toddler before he runs into the street. At any rate, her husband was gone now – soon it would be a year since the accident on the oil rig. There was a period of time when she thought she could never “move on” – that the rest of her life would be spent crying herself to sleep at night. But she also had her practical side – the side that said she would eventually need a source of income beyond her savings and Kyle’s life insurance money.

In the strangest of strange ways, Anne Marie felt as if Kyle had actually – unknowingly – set her up in ways nobody could have imagined.

That would involve her living two lives – the one everyone in Toland would see, and the one anyone practically anywhere in the World with a computer and internet access – and a credit card – would see. And she would have to be very very careful that nobody in Toland with a computer, internet, and a credit card would recognize her other persona.

As proud she was of her body, she wasn’t interested in sex, or in being gawked at, which is why she still dressed in frumpy fat mom clothes whenever she went out. Only this time, she might have dressed just a wee bit less “frumpy fat mom” because after lunch she was going to the hardware store in Magnus – and … well, if being pretty got her a little extra attention from the guys working there, what harm could it do? The jeans she wore were by no means tight, and the large man’s shirt she wore was buttoned almost to the collar, but one could tell there was a shapely woman inside.

She had ordered a small salad and a cheeseburger “without the bun” and was almost finished eating when he came in. She couldn’t help but smile at the very handsome young man who’d entered the restaurant trying to sound older than he was – like he was one of those 40 year old “regulars” one encounters practically everywhere a 40-year old regular likes to be treated like he matters enough to have a “usual” table or a “usual” order.

Suddenly, for no reason she could account for, her mind went back to her teaching days. What was odd about it was because it was a specific aspect of her teaching experience she remembered: Middle School Boys.

They were the worst. The absolute worst.

No, not their behavior in general – though that was pretty bad – but their propensity to find reasons to come to the teacher’s desk and stand just so.. just so they could get a look down her blouse. And that’s when Anne Marie was … not at her most alluring.

High school boys were probably just as bad, but at least by High School they had learned to be discrete about it.

She had only been a teacher for two years, but a lot happened in those two years. Because of those two years, she knew a great deal about most of the people in town and had little trouble recognizing former students. The tall handsome boy – “listen to me – boy – he’s surely over 18, and god do I feel old now” - this young man was not one of her former students, but probably recently moved to Toland or working in the area. Otherwise, how could he be a regular at Roxanne's, right?

No, definitely not one of my students.

"Missus Wilson...!!"

"My God! What? I mean. What happened to you?"

"I mean, wow! You look great!"

"It's Mitch. Mitchell Walters."

“Mitchell Walters??????? It can’t be!” But it could be. If she could change so dramatically, why couldn’t Mitchell Walters?

She slid out of her booth to give him a big hug. Nothing sexual of course – but then it dawned on her – her subconscious – Middle School boys, looking down her blouse – a part of her brain had registered “Mitchell Walters” without telling the rest of her brain. One of the little shits who was always trying to get a look at her cleavage.

Her mind quickly replayed what she could remember of the poor kid’s life – losing his father (a jolt of pain to her heart as her own sons are having to deal with the loss of their father) – Mother in prison. Shameful though it may be, that could have been the best thing for Mitchell. Even though they both lived in Toland, circumstances had prevented them from crossing paths for much longer than just the past year.

After answering all his questions the same way she had answered the same questions a million times before - diet, exercise, parental responsibilities, etc, she practically ordered him to sit across from her: “So.. sit down, tell me, what are you doing nowadays?”

Of course Mitchell had heard about Kyle – and offered his condolences - and heard she had moved away. He told her of his ambitions, wanting to go to college, etc. and some of the problems he had run in to. Her eyes even lit up a little when he mentioned computers – several times.

She told him of her past year in Capital City, but that she had kept the house in Toland, always intending to come back after a period of trying to figure out her life from that point and moving forward.

Computers.

Don’t do it, Anne Marie. Don’t even think it. Not with a former student. Never in a million years with a former student!!!

“So, you know all about – computers. I mean, like, um.. getting the best out of your high speed internet? Do you have any experience with, say.. video editing? The reason I’m asking, and I can pay for any help I get – is I’m thinking of trying to do some things online, like, blogging, and maybe a YouTube channel. Can you do all that?”

Slow down, Anne Marie .. keep calm. “And I know this is 2025, but I’ve never actually done any online banking. I’ve always been afraid of, well, all my money disappearing, since I don't know anything about computer security. Do you know how to deal with things like that?”

This is really Mitchell Walters? Holy shit! Now I can understand when people make such a fuss over my transformation.

“Wait a minute… didn’t you.. weren’t you also in the Drama Club.. building sets and doing lighting and sound? Or am I getting you mixed up with someone else?”

 

[TiredFingers]

“Mitchell Walters?" Anne Marie said with a shock similar to his own. "It can’t be!”

He laughed, saying, "It is. It's me."

Anne Marie got up to give him a hug. That surprised Mitch. In school, there were all sorts of rules against physical contact between teachers and their students. They applied to both genders of both groups, but particularly mixed genders. Male teachers didn't hug their female students, and female teachers didn't hug their male students.

Of course, this wasn't middle school. And Mitch was no longer Anne Marie's student. Even more than that, she was half the woman she'd once been. Oh, sure, that was an overexaggeration. But Jesus! As her arms went around him, Mitch's cock twitched and immediately began growing. Even in loose fitting jeans and a buttoned-up shirt, he could see the curves of her body. And they impressed him, particularly since she looked so good now.

Anne Marie invited him to sit, which Mitchell was thankful of knowing that his cock was rapidly growing to full rigidity. They jumped immediately into one of those How have you been and what have you been doing? conversations. It was hard to talk about certain portions of his life.

But he perked up when she asked what he was doing for work. He kind of fibbed in his explanation, saying, "I just got a loan to start a business." He swept a hand before him as if indicating a big sign over a doorway, "Computer Consultants Unlimited. I know, it doesn't sound catchy or anything, but it works for now, until I can come up with something catchier."

“So, you know all about – computers," she said with some surprise in her tone. Or was it hope? "I mean, like, um.. getting the best out of your high-speed internet?"

"Sure, you bet," he answered confidently. He spat out a string of terminology about high-speed internet, routers, converters, and more.

"Do you have any experience with, say ... video editing?" Anne Marie continued. She asked about blogging, YouTube, and more. "Can you do all that?”

"Absolutely!" he answered. "I can help you get setup with everything: YouTube, Instagram, TikTok. Anything."

Mitch didn't name OnlyFans because his only experience with that was the clips from it that he sometimes found repeated on sites like PornHub, Literotica, and other erotica or porn sites. He couldn't help but glance toward Anne Marie's bosom again. His mind was rapidly filled with an image of a naked Miss Peterson lying back on her bed, knees up, thighs parted, as she ran a vibrating dildo up and down her wetness, then shoving it deep inside her.

“And I know this is 2025, but I’ve never actually done any online banking," she went on. "I’ve always been afraid of, well, all my money disappearing, since I don't know anything about computer security. Do you know how to deal with things like that?”

"It's a snap," Mitch answered, even snapping his fingers before him. He talked about the options there again, ending, "But really, the oldies but goodies are the best: PayPal, Venmo, and the like.

“Wait a minute … didn’t you ... weren’t you also in the Drama Club..." she asked, "...building sets and doing lighting and sound? Or am I getting you mixed up with someone else?”

"No, that was me," he confirmed. "They didn't have it here in Toland. Just Carlson Creek. But I did all four years of Drama Club. Behind the camera, not in front of it. I was still--"

He paused, then chuckled and turned red. "I was still kind of heavy. And there always seemed to be at least one pimple somewhere on my face. It wasn't 'til the summer before senior year that I started changing. By Prom, I'd lost 30 pounds, cleared up, and started getting a real haircut."

Mitch playfully struck a modeling pose, laughed, and said proudly, "I even got a date to the Prom. Remember Kristi James? You wouldn't recognize her now any more than recognized me."

Kristi had been an absolute stick of a girl through her first three years of high school. She'd had no curves to speak of: no buttocks, no breasts, no hourglass. Just a stick. Like Mitch, she'd had acne and, honestly, a bit of a hygiene problem. Mitch had been raised without a father. Kristi had been the flip side of the coin, raised without a mother. She'd had no female role model other than some of her teachers, and Kristi had been too proud to go to them for help. Her father had been a very loving man, but he'd worked too many hours to pay the bills to notice his three daughters' personal problems.

Then, over the summer before and during the first half of Senior Year, her figure had exploded in a late blast of puberty. Oh, sure, she was still petite. But instead of being a straight, flat stick from ankles to neck, she'd grown wondrous B-cup titties, an hourglass figure, shapely buttocks, and athletic legs. Like Mitch, her acne had disappeared and, totally on her own, she'd solved her own hygiene problems. She'd learned to style the hair on her head and shave off or trim the hair on the rest of her body. She didn't paint her face much, mostly because she had a natural beauty, but she had learned.

"Wait!" Mitch said with sudden excitement. "I have a picture of her."

He stood up to get his wallet out of his back pocket. He forgot that his cock was still hard. It laid naturally to the right and pushed out his pants on that side of groin. Realizing this, he quickly whipped out his wallet and sat back down. He pulled out the picture, which was folded in half.

Suddenly, his face filled with hesitation. He turned the still-folded picture of Kristi James toward Anne Marie, saying, "Nice, huh? Can you believe she was my date?"

He wouldn't want Miss Peterson to see the unfolded picture of Kristi that she'd let him take of her, though.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

"I just got a loan to start a business." He swept a hand before him as if indicating a big sign over a doorway, "Computer Consultants Unlimited. I know, it doesn't sound catchy or anything, but it works for now, until I can come up with something catchier."

Anne Marie smiled politely at that. Banks don't loan money to 18 year old boys to start a business unless they are an excellent risk, which means they have a daddy or mommy to ensure the money will be paid back. Mitchell, despite his good looks, didn't have a daddy or anyone else in the family to schmooze with any of the local bankers - so this "business loan" was most likely a friend giving him fifty or a hundred bucks for a voltmeter and some cheap software. And that name - would definitely need to be changed. Maybe if the boy is any good she'll spring for a lawyer to get him set up in "business", and she knew just the right CPA to guide him into not going under his first two weeks in "business". Meanwhile, she had need of his services.

"Well that's great. It says a lot that someone has enough faith in you and your abilities to loan you money."

It certainly sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and she was sure people with less knowledge than she and Mitchell combined had made a successful go of it. She mentioned to him that she had taken a couple of classes recently - not the formal college credit sort of classes, but in the Adult Education program of one of the schools in Capital City - the kind that offer classes on scrapbooking and French cooking. The ones she took, however, were on videography and video editing. It gave her enough understanding to get her started and do some rudimentary stuff, but the editing was a long and arduous process. She knew it would come easier with practice, but meanwhile it would be nice to have someone to help.

She felt her mind drifting and chuckled at the thought of showing Mitchell the video she had already made.

"Yes, I could certainly use some help with the lighting. I have some.. a really nice camera and tripod, they came highly recommended by the instructor, but - well - I'd like to experiment with different ideas about lighting and camera angles and so forth, and that's difficult to do by myself."

Actually, she had four cameras, four very expensive ones, but it didn't feel right to tell him that just yet. She herself had watched enough YouTube videos to know that if the sound isn't perfect - or the person on the screen just doesn't look right for some reason (the lighting, for instance) she will just hit the back button and find something else to watch. As inexperienced as she was, she knew there was a lot more to it than meets the eye.

Then, somehow, the conversation shifted to the prom and Kristi James, and it brought back all sorts of bittersweet memories for Anne Marie - most memories of the bitter sort. She had started "getting fat" her Sophomore year of high school, and there was a window in which her growing boobs got more notice than the growing everything else. That had gotten her an invitation to the prom by a boy named Larry who, last she heard, was a state trooper in Wyoming. As she continued to gain the unwanted pounds her self esteem took a dive. It wasn't as if she didn't have lots of friends, but dating just wasn't something she did a lot of. She'd rather not think about her own prom experiences her last two years of school. Not that anything bad happened - they just weren't the fun romantic events they were supposed to be.

It was the irony that got her, though. Mitchell Walters. Kristi James. When she started teaching it was children like them that made her feel a little like Christy Huddleston arriving in the Appalachian mountains to teach the shoeless impoverished children with superstitious parents who had strange ideas about - well - everything. And yet it was Mitchell and Kristi who blossomed into beautiful people who got the whole prom experience, something she could never go back and fix in her own life.

Sad as that was, though, it was a reminder to her that one can't go back - she would have to keep going forward.

"That's Kristi James? Wow, she turned out to be gorgeous." She almost asked if they were still dating, but caught herself. Mitchell didn't say anything about Kristi being his girlfriend, only his date for the prom. And all he had to show was a picture he kept folded in his wallet? That had all the signs of "I don't have a girlfriend, but I want everyone to think I do and she's really pretty".

So, she didn't ask.

She was afraid if she showed too much interest it would only remind him that Kristi isn't really his girlfriend, so she changed the subject back to her needs.

"Where do you live now? Do you have reliable transportation? We'll be doing all this at my house - on Murphy Street - do you know where I live? By the entrance to the college."

She told him if he doesn't have a car, she will be glad to give him a ride to and from her house when they were working.

"Actually, I was on my way to Magnus to pick up a few things. If you'd like to ride along we can talk more in the van. Or, I'm sure you have things to do, but can you come by later this afternoon? I'm eager to get started and we have a lot of things to go over. Plus I'd like to show off my equipment and see what you think."

She didn't even consider that he hasn't gotten his order yet, but it's okay if he eats in the van - it's Mom's taxi, after all, and in a survival situation she could probably scoop up enough droppings under the seats to survive for days.

The other thing she didn't consider is how it might look - the two of them leaving together. Probably no one would give it a second thought - but she would have to be careful of people knowing he was spending long hours at her house when her children weren't there.

 

[TiredFingers]

"Well that's great," Anne Marie said about Mitch's loan for a new business. "It says a lot that someone has enough faith in you and your abilities to loan you money."

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" he said, mostly to himself than to Miss Peterson. (He still thought of Anne Marie as Miss Peterson, even though he knew that she'd gotten married and had already been widowed.) "Funny thing is, it was anonymous. It had rules, about how I could spend it. But I'm not an idiot when it comes to wasting money anyway, so."

They talked about what she needed from Mitch and what she had to offer in the way of equipment. He didn't have much of his own camera equipment, save for a GoPro camera and some of the accessories to let you use it a thousand ways. "I made some videos and put them online over the years, but nothing like what you're wanting to do. This sounds more important."

"That's Kristi James?" Anne Marie asked when Mitch showed the top half of the photo that he kept in his wallet. "Wow, she turned out to be gorgeous."

Again, more musing to himself than talking to Anne Marie, Mitch said, "Yeah, she did, didn't she?" He looked at the picture for a moment, looked up to his former teacher, then looked around to ensure that no one was looking their way. There was only one booth with people in it this close to closing, in addition to one old timer sitting at the far end of the counter.

"I'm gonna show you something, Miss--" Mitch began before pausing and asking, "What am I supposed to call you anyway? I mean, I knew you as Miss Peterson, obviously, but you got married. But you're not married anymore, and I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with that."

Anne Marie answered him, and Mitch said with a solemn tone, "I'm sorry about what happened to your husband. My neighbor used to play pickup basketball with Kyle in the park next to where I lived, so I knew him a little bit. He seemed like a really cool guy."

He paused to see if Anne Marie had anything more to say on that topic, then returned to what he'd been about to say. "Anyway, I want to show you something, but I don't want you to think I'm a perv or something. Kristi wanted me to take this picture of her for a guy she was dating after we graduated, after we went to prom together. We never dated, per se. Did I use that right, per se? We just went to the prom together. That's it."

That wasn't exactly true, not that Mitch was going to tell his former middle school teacher the details. Neither of them had ever had sex before, so they'd skipped out of prom early and went to one of her relative's homes, knowing that they weren't going to be there.

It had been really nice, Mitch thought. He'd enjoyed himself, and Kristi had said she had, too. He'd seen pain in her face when he first fully entered her. But she'd told him that was expected, told him to continue, and seemed to enjoy it more as the minutes passed.

They hadn't fucked after that, though. Kristi had had a boyfriend, theoretically. He'd been a jock from Magnus, playing the Carlson Creek teams that the Toland kids were on these days. They'd met during basketball season, started dating (kissing and heavy petting) soon after that.

But he'd committed to another girl for his own prom years earlier, and the two proms were the same night. And he'd been from a Bible-thumping family that didn't believe in premarital sex, too. Luckily for Mitch, Kristi hadn't been from such a family, and she'd wanted to lose her virginity while still in high school.

Sometimes things just work out, don't they?

"Anyway," Mitch said as he unfolded the picture and showed the picture of Kristi's full body to Anne Marie. "She had a boyfriend who went away to college in Boston or someplace, and she wanted him to remember who and what was waiting for him when he came home on Christmas break."

Mitch blushed, feeling a little bit dirty. First, he had a sexy picture of a girl who wasn't his girlfriend in his wallet. And second, he was showing it to his former middle school teacher. What the fuck? But for some weird reason, Mitch thought that Anne Marie would appreciate his photographic ability and not think of him as weird as fuck.

She asked, "Where do you live now?"

"With friends," he said simply. "They gave me the attic space in their garage. It's not primitive like it sounds. We fully insulated it, ran electricity and water up to a little kitchenette. I have to use the bathroom down in the house's mud room, but that's okay."

"Do you have reliable transportation?"

He laughed. "Reliable is a stretch. But yes, I do."

He didn't tell her it was a 1982 500 cc Honda motorcycle that should have been junked years ago. But he'd managed to keep it running for the most part. Mitch was lucky in the sense that it was one of the most popular models of that era, and because there was a junk yard in Magnus that had a huge motorcycle section, he could usually find used parts for pennies on the dollar when he needed them.

"We'll be doing all this at my house, on Murphy Street," Anne Marie told him. "Do you know where I live? By the entrance to the college."

Again, Mitch laughed. "It ain't that big a town. Yeah, I know."

Hearing Anne Marie talk about working together at her house lit up Mitch's always-horny mind, and he couldn't help but take a quick glance at her bosom again. The button up shirt was overly revealing, and it certainly wasn't tight on her. But Mitch had a good imagination, letting him easily picture her the way he wished to see her.

She told him that she was heading to Magnus to do some shopping, but Mitch told her, "No, sorry. I can't go tonight. Saturdays I watch my landlords' place for them. There's been some vandalism and petty theft in their neighborhood, and they go to Capital City every Saturday night and Sunday morning to visit her parents. They're old. But tomorrow I ain't doing anything. I can come over whenever."

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

The news of Mitchell’s “loan” got a bit more interesting when he told her it was anonymous and came with conditions on how it would be spent. Anne Marie had not yet heard of this woman, Viola, and the truckloads of money she was spreading around, and was intrigued by Mitchell’s situation. Naturally, she wanted to ask a lot more questions about it, but that would have to wait. She needed them to stay focused on Anne Marie’s enterprise and how Mitchell might have a role in making it a success.

As young men are prone to doing, Mitchell’s focus seemed to be elsewhere: On Kristi. It was actually a little … well… annoying? Anne Marie was experiencing an emotion she really couldn’t identify – something she couldn’t put her finger on. Here she was – after working so diligently to transform herself into something more desirable – sitting across from a young man who only wanted to talk about another woman.

She was jealous! Jealous of Mitchell's focus on Kristi!

No, wait. The transformation wasn’t intended to make herself more desirable, but healthier. Her emotions, and judgment, were just being clouded by thoughts of the video she had made, and all the videos and other naughtiness she was going to make in the future. So … Anne Marie Wilson wasn’t the only Toland girl who got pretty. Kristi James was now a beautiful young woman and Mitchell Walters was now a handsome young man and they went to the prom together. Good for them!

“It’s still Wilson” she responded to his inquiry regarding her name. His questions and comments were innocent enough, but it somehow felt wrong to talk about Kyle right now, in light of what Anne Marie was planning with her FansOnly account and this young computer wizard. “Yes, Kyle was a good man, and that’s very kind of you to say. Thank you.”

And just like that, she had gone from being jealous of Mitchell’s infatuation with Kristi James to glad of it, because it took the conversation off of Kyle.

..

“Oh Mitchell” she exclaimed quietly but emphatically when he showed her the other picture of Kristi. Whispering, she continued – now in teacher mode – “I don’t think you should be showing that … no wait… I know you shouldn’t be showing that to me. Or to anyone else. Not if Kristi didn’t give her consent to share. And even if she did - you probably shouldn't. No, I know you shouldn't.”

She glanced around quickly to ensure nobody else was close enough to hear.

“When a girl lets a guy … take a picture of her like that, she is putting a great deal of faith – of trust – in him. A real man – a gentleman – doesn’t betray that trust, no matter what. Do you understand what I’m saying?” For Anne Marie, it was critical that he understand – and comply. She certainly couldn’t have Mitchell showing people pictures or videos of her to anyone he was trying to impress. Mitchell was still just a kid – a teenage boy – regardless of what the law said, and that’s how Anne Marie would have to deal with him. “I’m sure if she knew how much you liked her, how proud you are to have taken her to the prom, she would be delighted. But somehow I don’t think she would like it if she knew you were sharing that picture with anyone else.”

Perhaps Kyle could still be useful to her, helping her get everything set up – the account, the room, the lights and sound, etc, but at this point she could kick herself for considering using him as a camera man and video editor. It turns out the little angel on her shoulder telling her not to do this was right again.

“I’m going to Magnus to pick up some things, to include a heavy carpet. There will be someone there to help load it into my van, but I don’t want to try to unload it myself. Perhaps if you can come by after church to help me unload. And I’ll fix you some lunch. Then we can chat some more about what I’d like you to do and how much I can pay.”

She wasn’t in such a big hurry to leave, so she got a refill on her drink and filled him in a bit more – focusing on getting her accounts set up, and not so much on what she planned to do in front of the camera.

“I really have no idea how much these services I need are worth – so we’ll need to come to some agreement there. But also, it’s very important that you understand that officially I’m not paying you for anything. If there’s pay involved, than that means paperwork and the government – I have to declare it on my taxes, you have to pay tax on your earnings – it just gets messy. So officially, you’re just helping out a friend with her computer needs, and if an envelope full of cash happens to end up in your pocket, I have no idea how it got there. Understand?”

“There’s one more thing, and this is pretty standard in cases like this. A non-disclosure agreement. We’ll both need to sign it in front of a notary, and that means you can’t tell anyone what we’re doing, can’t share any information with anyone, not with anyone online – like commenting on my YouTube channel, or tell anyone in or around Toland anything you don’t clear with me first. It’s.. it’s sort of like that picture of Kristi. If you had a picture like that of me, I wouldn’t want you bragging about it to your friends. To be frank, I’m looking for an adult to help me out – not the Middle School boy who kept trying to look down my blouse. Understand?"

Earlier, Anne Marie had hoped Mitchell could ride with her to Magnus and back so they could talk more, and that trip would end up at her house so she could show him her computers and recording equipment – but now she was glad he had other plans. She could use a few hours to think about things.

In other words, she might have just dodged a bullet. Getting an 18 year old former student to help her make a video of her being naughty in sexy lingerie??? What was she thinking???

“So … Tomorrow, 12:30? Heavy carpet, and lunch. I’m going grocery shopping in Magnus, so tell me what you’d like and I’ll pick it up.”

 

[TiredFingers]

(OOC: I have been told that my image for "Kristi's full body" in Mitch's previous post and in the first paragraph below didn't work. I've attached it in this post just in case.. If someone reading along could PM me and tell me if one or the other or both worked, I would appreciate it.)

(Also, for the Moderators: If you read the text below, you will see that both Mitch and Kristi are 18-19 years old. Don't for a moment think that they are minors just cause they appear young in their images. You should see a pic of me as a high school senior. I looked like a baby.)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx​

Sunday, March 30, 2025
Home of Anne Marie and her boys
The City of Toland

Mitch Walters swung his old Honda around in the driveway and put down the kickstand. But he didn't dismount from the motorcycle. He pulled off his helmet, stuffed his leather gloves inside it, and hung them all over the end of the handlebars.

Then, Mitch pulled out his wallet and removed the picture of Kristi James that he'd shown Anne Marie the night before. He looked at it the way he'd initially shown it to his former middle school teacher, then unfolded it to look at Kristi's full body. She was so incredible, and he couldn't believe that, in the old parlance, he'd hit that thang.

Mitch had wanted to continuing hitting that thang back then in the last weeks between prom and graduation and during the summer before she went off to college. But Kristi had had an older boyfriend who'd gone off to university back east, and she'd wanted him to be her next and last lover ever as they'd been talking about marriage for over a year.

That wasn't going to work out for them, though. No one could know this yet, but in a couple of months, Kristi's Bible-thumping virgin of a boyfriend was going to knock up a schoolmate at Northeastern University. She was the daughter of a powerful New York millionaire investment type, and the pair of them would find themselves in a quickie wedding to maintain the old man's conservative social status.

Kristi would learn the bad news, fall into a fit of depression, quit university in Capital City, and return to Toland. She would cry on her mother's shoulder for a couple of months before finally getting her shit together (her words) and looking for the next adventure. Who knows? Maybe she might bump into Mitch Walters and their old middle school teacher Miss Peterson. And maybe. Just maybe.

For now, though, Mitch folded the picture to its PG-13 side, put his wallet away without it, and headed up to the front door of Anne Marie's. No sooner did she answer then he handed the picture to her.

"I thought about it," he told her with a sincere tone. "You were right. I shouldn't be showing this to people. I shouldn't have shown it to you! That was inconsiderate of me. Irresponsible. Asinine. Jerk-off."

Mitch paused. He had about 15 more words to describe himself and what he'd done, but he let them go. "I shouldn't have this, let alone be showing it to people. I don't know if it helps, but I've never shown it to anyone else. Really, no shit. I mean, no lie. I guess, I guess that talking to you about what we're doing made me think that you would want to see how good a picture I could take."

Mitch still didn't know the nature of the work Anne Marie wanted to do, of course. He would find it ironic later when she finally explained. "And I got to thinking about that thing you want me to sign, that says I won't talk to anyone ever about the work I do for you. I want you to know that I would never do that. Like I said, I never showed Kristi's unfolded picture to anyone, not even the guys I hang out with."

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Anne Marie took the picture of Kristi that Mitchell was holding out to her without even looking at the picture, and getting a little choked up by the gesture. She had spent much of the previous night thinking about Mitchell and what a difficult life he had growing up. Him and Kristi, too, though in very different ways. Mitchell never had a father to teach him what it meant to be a man, much less a gentleman - and Anne Marie was pretty sure his mother and whatever men she hooked up with through the years were not much help to the boy.

"This ...." She stopped, needing to clear her throat and not let him see how emotional she was getting. "This means more to me than you know. Please, come in, I need to show you something really quick, then send you on a little errand if you don't mind." Her house smelled of spaghetti sauce and garlic, and leading him through the kitchen to the back door of her house he would see a huge bowl of salad on a counter and two pots on the stove, the burners on very low just to keep warm. One was spaghetti, already drained, and the other was the sauce.

"I didn't think to ask if you like garlic, so I made two loves of bread, one with and one without." An exhaust fan was running - and without it the garlic would have been even more overpowering. "It's not a big secret, but not something I'm advertising either - I also own the house next door." She went on to explain how that came to be. Insurance money and a seller extremely eager to get anything he could for an otherwise useless house. In her back yard, invisible to the rest of the world thanks to a tall privacy fence, there was a gate leading into the back yard of the other house she owned. She opened it and lead Mitchell to the back door.

The second house didn't look as nice as the first, and there was a gap in the back fence. The only thing in the back yard of house number two was an old shed which had once been used to keep a riding mower out of the rain.

"It's a small town, and I have to be concerned about my reputation. Anyone seeing your bike here for longer than a minute is going to talk about things they know nothing about. It's human nature for people to be curious, and to jump to conclusions. So first things first, here's a key to the back door of this house. I'll ask you that if you decide to work with me on this project, you can ..." She turned to face the back of the fence where the gap was .. "take a left onto Briggs Road and then left into what used to be the alley, then turn inside this fence. I've already checked the ground for nails and things. You can park your bike in the shed and let yourself in. In fact, if you ever need a place to crash for the night, it's available, but mostly what I want to use this house for - for now - is as our recording studio." She tried the key in the lock, even though she knew it worked, just to show him it works, then handed it to him. "From time to time I'll have a contractor doing some work inside, but I'll keep you apprised of when that will be and what they're doing."

The next order of business was the non-disclosure agreement. By the time they were back inside her primary house, her emotions had subsided.

"I came down on you pretty hard yesterday, about this picture. I realize it doesn't show anything a bathing suit wouldn't show - I guess it was just me in teacher mode. The issue wasn't what it was showing, but the fact you were showing the picture. And I want you to know I totally believe you when you say you haven't shown it to anyone else..." Then, with a flourish, she produced an envelope from the counter to hand to him. Inside was the non-disclosure agreement for him to sign. "And I want you to know that I trust you. But of course business is business."

The notary to whom she had spoken the previous day lived only two blocks away. It was Mister Jackson, who was most agreeable to letting Anne Marie sign the document on a Saturday and letting someone else sign it on Sunday. That attitude may have stemmed from the fact Anne Marie bent forward to let him see a bit more than a lady would allow, on the pretense of pointing out a smudge on the signature line and asking him if that would be a problem. Anne Marie know how uncharacteristic her behavior was, but then she had been thinking a lot about Femdom and manipulative women lately. "So take this, read it yourself so you know what you're agreeing to, then if you're okay with it take it to Mr. Jackson's. He's expecting you, and I've already paid him for his services. Just make sure you don't sign it before you get there, the whole idea is that he's certifying you're the one who signed it, and on what date. And then when you're finished, you can park in back of the other house like we discussed, and you can come into my back door without knocking."

When he returned, she would have dinner on the table, and two glasses of red wine poured.

 

[TiredFingers]

Anne Marie took the picture of Kristi, saying, "This .... This means more to me than you know."

The teen smiled, pleased that he'd impressed her with his gentlemanly nature and honesty. There had been many a time that Mitch had wanted to show the picture of Kristi in full to his buddies and tell them I hit that virgin pussy and hadn't. Now he was glad he hadn't and could tell Anne Marie the truth.

"Please, come in," she told him, leading Mitch into the house and then the kitchen.

His eyes widened and mouth watered at the dinner cooking on the stovetop and in the oven. Not having a full kitchen in his own garage attic apartment, he yearned for real meals all the time.

"It's not a big secret, but not something I'm advertising either," she said, leading him out of the house again, "I also own the house next door."

"I'm impressed," Mitch said. "Two houses?"

He immediately wondered just how much money she'd been reimbursed for her husband's accidental death. And as quickly as the thought came to him, he grimaced and chastised himself for such thoughts. He thought of losing his own father at just 6 years old and knew that he would have given any amount of money to have him back.

Anne Marie explained about the key, the back yard entrance, the shed, and Mitch's place in it all. He told her, "I understand. I can make all that work."

Her mention of a recording studio made Mitch smile a bit wider. Anne Marie hadn't yet explained exactly what she would be recording, and he'd wanted to ask ever since the first moment they'd begun talking about it. He assumed it was some sort of TikTok or Instagram product promotion channel.

Then again, it might be something inspirational or soothing about losing a close relative. That made sense, too, though Mitch wasn't aware that Anne Marie had any education in such areas except, obviously, being a young widow herself.

The last area of interest he thought might apply was the obvious: weight loss. Anne Marie looked incredible since losing all her weight. And while he would never tell her this, of course, Mitch had gone straight home after seeing her that first time to masturbate to the fantasy of her lying him back on her teacher's desk and fucking him hard, fast, and noisily.

And then he awoken to continue his fantasy. This time, though, it took place in the Principal's office where they'd been sent, both of them, for getting caught fucking. As they waited for the Principal to arrive and punish them, Mitch fucked Anne Marie's tits, spurting a pearl necklace all over her chest before she licked it all up and then sucked his cock to yet a second explosion.

Realizing that he was hard now as they walked around the yards, Mitch told himself to knock off the memories. About then, Anne Marie said, "I came down on you pretty hard yesterday, about this picture ... I guess it was just me in teacher mode."

And ... there it is! he thought as she continued talking and his cock returned to stiffness again. Stop talking about being a teacher, or I'm gonna break something off.

"And I want you to know that I trust you," she said before bringing out and explaining the NDA.

"I'll go get it done now," he told her, standing behind the kitchen island to hide his erection. Holding the paper nonchalantly before his groin as he left, he said, "I'll be right back."

He hurried to his cycle and down the street to Old Man Jackson's to get the paper signed. He apologized for bothering the man on a Sunday, only to be told, "No, no, young man. Notary Public is a 24/7/365 job."

They did their business, and Mitch was about to leave when Mister Jackson surprised Mitch by asking, "So, are you and the cougar, you know, doing the deed?"

Mitch's mouth fell open. "No, NO! Oh my God, why would you say that?"

The old man laughed. "Boy, open your eyes. Anne Marie Wilson, now that's a woman who could teach a young man like you a few things." Mitch didn't know that just as he'd beat his meat to fantasies about Anne Marie, so had the old Notary Public just minutes after the woman had left his office.

"I just work for her," Mitch said, heading for the door.

"It's a new world, boy," Mister Jackson hollered to him as he headed away. "A new world!"

Pulling up Briggs Road into the yard and then the shed, Mitch tried to forget the old man's words, not because he couldn't imagine himself with Anne Marie but because he was doing his best to leave his cock flaccid. It wasn't working. While still in the shed, Mitch rearranged himself inside his shorts in the hope of not being spotted.

He knocked on the kitchen's backdoor and was waved inside. He found dinner already on the table and a glass of red wine at his place setting. He was hesitant, asking, "Are you testing me, or..."

They began dinner, and just one bite in, Mitch said, "My God, this is delicious."

He asked if he could take an old plastic food container of leftovers home, saying, "I can't cook like this at my place. I do have a microwave, though."

Anne Marie told him that not only could he take some home with him, but that she'd leave some leftovers in the fridge of the studio house's fridge, too. They finished their meals, and (even though it wasn't his thing) Mitch even finished the wine. If she asked if he liked it, he would tell her it was okay but that he preferred Mike's Hard Lemonade.

"So, when should I come back to get started?" he asked, not knowing that she had more plans for them that evening.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

"In a way, I'd like to get started now. Now that the non-disclosure agreement is signed. I have something I'd like to show you - in the living room." She took her wine glass with her as she went to sit on the sofa, assuming he would follow. She never actually stopped talking. "I've spoken of things like blogging and YouTube videos, but what I haven't mentioned is ... OnlyFans. It seems when someone mentions that, their thoughts immediately go to explicit sexual content - and not to things like diet and exercise and nutrition advice. I've learned a lot about those things in my own journey to better health, and in the past few months I've picked up some certifications which will enable me to claim I have some legitimacy in offering such advice."

She sat on the sofa and leaned forward to begin messing with the laptop computer on her coffee table. A long HDMI cable ran to the large television mounted to the wall. If he'd bothered to notice, the curtains were closed tight, so not a bit of sunshine found its way into the room. Later he would realize that was to keep prying eyes from seeing what she didn't want seen.

It was early afternoon, she had just returned home from church and begun preparing lunch, and had not yet changed. She was wearing a modest but stylish dress that extended down a little past the knees (when she was standing) and not too tight. She had on hosiery - of course he couldn't tell if they were pantyhose or the other kind) and shoes that fell somewhere between sensible and sexy. The dress wasn't buttoned up to her neck. Middle School Mitchell might have rated it a 5 on a scale of 1 to 10 in the 'difficulty looking down teacher's blouse' category.

"However" she continued, "If you would have guessed explicit sexual content - you would have been correct." She was staring at the computer now, a totally neutral expression on her face, trying not to show any emotions - such as fear. "Not... not sexual - in that I'm not going to get naked and play with ... toys.. or anything like that. I think 'sexy' rather than 'sexual' would be the best way to describe it."

Finally, he looked up at him, and with a weak smile, said "Surprised?"

"Of course it will all be - just me - in front of the camera. But there's an awful lot of work involved and frankly, I could use the help. So, if you decide to do this, understand we're acting as .. professionals. I mean, like, you might do something like.. help me on with an outfit, or .. something. So I don't want you bragging that .. you saw my boobs.. or.. touched my ass. It's like a doctor/patient... the male doctor might be a real horn-dog when he's off duty, but if he's examining a female patient it's all business, all professional. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

--

"So, I think the best way to do this is to show you what I had in mind. This is a YouTube video - I didn't make it, I just happened across it, and it's what gave me the idea. Do you know anything about ... well .. it's called Female Domination. Femdom, for short. Where the woman is .... in charge. And it covers a very wide range of activities - from verbal humiliation to... well.. whatever. There are men out there with castration fantasies. I'm pretty sure most of them are just fantasies, but .. it takes all kinds, right?"

The video began - a small teddy bear sitting on the floor, its back to the wall. The sound of high heeled boots approaching. The (presumed) woman toyed with the bear for a bit, then attacked it with the heels of her boots. Ripping it open, pulling out the stuffing. Anne Marie didn't want to stare, but she did discretely look to see what effect this was having in Mitchell. Even as the 3-minute video was still playing, she spoke up again. (It isn't as if there was any dialogue he might miss.)

"I most emphatically do not want to talk about my own sex life, or anything that transpired within the sanctity of my marriage ...." Anne Marie had always spoken like that - like an English teacher choosing her words carefully. "But Kyle assured me that there were men who ... enjoyed ... things like this. So my thinking is that I could do something like this, but ... since they can get this sort of thing for free on YouTube - I would have to give them a little something extra. Something they're willing to pay to see."

The woman in the video gave the bear a little kick and sent it flying across the room, at which point the video came to an end.

"This was all very awkward for me to share with you, but as I indicated, I think ... we ... can make a lot of money. Or rather, the possibility is there. If this is something you think you might want to be involved in, then ... I have another video to show you. One I made myself, which should give you a better idea of what I have in mind. But, if you don't think this is for you, I completely understand and respect your decision, and we'll not speak of it again."

"Also, Mitchell, if you watch this video, I don't want you to think in terms of lighting or sound or any of that - just - watch it as a man, and tell me if you think other men will like it. So... should I start the video?"

 

[TiredFingers]

"In a way, I'd like to get started now," Anne Marie responded to Mitch's question about when she wanted to start. She got up, carrying her wine glass. He'd nearly finished his, and she hadn't refilled it after he said it wasn't his thing. "I have something I'd like to show you - in the living room."

She sat on the sofa, leaving Mitch to decide where he wanted to sit. He thought that sitting on the couch next to her might give the wrong impression. He was pretty sure that Anne Marie had already caught him trying to peek down her shirt, at least once. He chose an armchair at the end of the coffee table instead.

"I've spoken of things like blogging and YouTube videos," she explained as she opened her laptop, "but what I haven't mentioned is ... OnlyFans."

The moment she mentioned the site, Mitch's cock literally jumped in his pants. The only thing he knew about that site was that people pirated videos and images of sexual content to other sites, like his favorite, Literotica. Trying to be inconspicuous, he rearranged the way he was sitting because his cock was enlarging already.

As if reading Mitch's mind, Anne Marie said, "It seems when someone mentions that, their thoughts immediately go to explicit sexual content - and not to things like diet and exercise and nutrition advice."

She talked about her designs for the site, which didn't do anything to abate his erection. Mitch had been imagining Anne Marie sitting on the edge of her bed massaging her clit with her fingertips or slipping a dildo in and out of her pussy. Now, he saw her striking yoga poses that lifted her ass high in the air or flashed her camel toe at him. The fact that he couldn't actually see her private parts because of her tight Lycra or whatever they made yoga clothes out of only force him to imagine more.

Anne Marie began talking about sexual content. Mitch could feel his heart beating and his skin getting warm. Could she? Could she see the effect she was having on him. He could only hope not. She explained, "Not... not sexual -- in that I'm not going to get naked and play with ... toys ... or anything like that. I think 'sexy' rather than 'sexual' would be the best way to describe it."

Sexy, not sexual? Mitch wondered. Is there a difference? There was, of course, but the former teacher was explaining it with words that didn't make sense to her former student. "Surprised?"

Mitch's mind was so consumed in fantasies that he almost missed the question. Trying to sound less shocked than he was, he said, "Oh, um, I um, yeah, maybe. No, yes, I guess. I mean, no, I wouldn't, I mean, it wouldn't have been my first guess."

She talked about how it would be just her in front of the camera. Mitch was needed just for the behind-the-camera work. It hadn't even occurred to him that he might be on camera until now, leading him to laugh with a sense of relief, actually murmuring, "Good."

"I mean, like, you might do something like ... help me on with an outfit ... or something," she said. "So, I don't want you bragging that ... you saw my boobs ..."

Mitch didn't mean to, but he immediately and conspicuously looked directly at Anne Marie's tits. Again, his cock twitched with hope.

She continued, "...or ... touched my ass." She talked about how they'd keep it professional, asking, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Oh, oh! Of course!" Mitch responded. He did understand what Anne Marie was saying. He just couldn't imagine it actually being that way. How the fuck are you going to do this? Help her in and out of her clothes? And not cream your shorts? Are you fucking kidding? He told her with fingers raised in a Boy Scout gesture, "Promise."

"So, I think the best way to do this is to show you what I had in mind," she told him. She talked about a video similar to what she was imaging for herself, then asked, "Do you know anything about ... well ... it's called Female Domination. Femdom, for short."

Mitch understood what she was talking about, even though he'd never known it had a name. He knew what BDSM was, but this sounded somewhat different. She talked about women being in charge, which instantly brought to mind Delores Kingsley. Della, as everyone knew her, was the 4- or 5-years older sister of Robert Kingsley, one of Mitch's best friends in high school.

Mitch had gone over to Robert's house and saw Della dressed like he'd never seen woman dressed before. It had been late October, and Mitch had assumed Della's outfit was a costume for some college-aged Hallowe'en party. Robert had laughed and told him, "Hell no, that's her work uniform."

Mitch hadn't believed his friend, despite Robert crossing his heart in promise. Mitch began making far more visits to his friend's house, hoping to see Della like that again. Unfortunately, she moved to Capital City shortly after that, and he'd never seen her dressed like that again.

What Mitch couldn't know what that Della was moving back to Toland in a couple of weeks. What might his relationship with Anne Marie be like by that point? And what might transpire between the three of them if they happened to cross paths in town? As Arsenio Hall had said back when he had his short-lived nighttime show, "Things that make you go ... hmmmm..."

Anne Marie started a video on her computer, which was sent to the big screen television on the wall via an HTML cord. Mitch's first thought was, "Hey, I can teach you how to do this without the cord. I mean, if your TV is capable."

If it wasn't, he would do some looking around for her if she wanted something more up to date.

Mitch chuckled at the sight of a small teddy bear sitting on the floor. He heard what sounded like footfalls. High heels? he asked himself. Then, suddenly, the heels in question began mutilating the stuffed toy. Mitch's eyes widened as he mumbled, "Jesus!"

As the video continued, she explained that she wouldn't talk about her own sex life or her marriage. She invoked her late husband, saying, "But Kyle assured me that there were men who ... enjoyed ... things like this."

"Really?" he asked surprised. He was half laughing when he asked, "Killing stuffed teddy bears with heels?"

She explained that she wanted to do something similar but with what she called a little something extra. "Something they're willing to pay to see."

Mitch didn't understand the, what, kink of seeing leggy women in heels destroy children's toys. Leggy women? Oh, definitely. But the whole teddy bear murder thing? He knew that he had to be missing something.

"This was all very awkward for me to share with you," Anne Marie told Mitch, "But as I indicated, I think ... we ... can make a lot of money."

Again, Mitch thought, Stomping toys to death with spikes? Really?

"Or rather, the possibility is there," she went on. "If this is something you think you might want to be involved in--"

"Yes!" Mitch's mouth said before his brain had even realized it had thought the word. He realized how eager he sounded and blushed. He might find out that it wasn't his thing any more than Anne Marie's wine had been. But she'd said he might have to help her in or out of her clothes, so he was ready to try anything that might lead to that. He cleared his throat and tried to sound less like a 14 year old asking a girl to show him her tits, "I mean, yes. I'd like to see if this is something for me. If that's okay."

"Then ... I have another video to show you," she told him. "One I made myself..."

That was all Mitch had to hear to know that he'd made the right decision. "Also, Mitchell, if you watch this video, I don't want you to think in terms of lighting or sound or any of that - just - watch it as a man and tell me if you think other men will like it. So... should I start the video?"

"Yes," he said, controlling himself better with this answer. "Yes, I think I should see this."

He leaned forward to stand, then paused. He pointed to the near end of the sofa on which she was sitting and asked, "May I? The angle from here is a little awkward." If she said he could sit closer to her, Mitch would move without standing fully. His cock was as hard as he thought it had ever been. The last thing he wanted was for it to tent the front of his slacks for Anne Marie's observation.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Being a teacher had made Anne Marie more observant than the average person - and being a teacher of middle-school boys enlightened her to much about budding male sexuality. Though it had been six years, and Mitchell was now a "man" at 18, that wasn't really that far removed from being a middle school boy in a LOT of ways. Yes, she was fully aware of just how horny he was getting, and she didn't need to stare to know his trousers were tenting.

It was a dilemma for her. Not because she was the least bit interested in having sex with Mitchell, or anyone else, but because there was a part of her which thought it might be a good idea for him to go masturbate before he saw the video. After all, if he decided to do anything inappropriate with her, there might not be much she could do about it. It would be easy enough. Suggest they take a restroom break before her video - she could go upstairs to change, he could use the restroom downstairs, the one with the small bottle of lotion on the counter.

On the other hand, she wanted him horny when he watched the video. She wanted him to say yes to helping her. Letting him relieve himself immediately before hand would make him less susceptible to her particular charms.

"I had four cameras running simultaneously" she said, gesturing for him to take a seat on the sofa. She almost - almost - moved over to give him a little more room, to put a little more space between them, but she didn't. She wasn't sure why not - but it probably had something to do with some inner need to tease. "And still I stopped more times than I care to remember - adjusting this or that - and the editing took days. But I think it turned out okay."

She hit the "play" button and the screen flickered. Anne Marie had spent what felt like hundreds of hours with this video - to the point she was almost sick of it. Every scene, over and over, it was no longer exciting for her, it had become a chore. But watching it now, the finished product - with someone else watching it with her - that made it new and exciting all over again. She grabbed her wine glass, settled back onto the sofa, then spoke in more of a seductive, conspiratorial whisper. "The idea is that after this, I destroy the teddy bear."

--

The screen is black. The sound of a woman walking, heels on tiled floor. Not loud or overbearing or fast, but slow and deliberate.

As the light slowly illuminates the room, a table appears. There is a box on the table, its lid taped closed. The walking woman comes into view. She is carrying a glass of red wine. You can not see her face. She is dressed in black lingerie, mostly lace – bra and panties – which are practically sheer everywhere except that they are sufficiently opaque to prevent the viewer from seeing her nipples or genitalia. Covering this, but barely, is a black sheer robe. She also wears a black garter belt, attached to black hosiery. The boots she wears are also black leather, which come almost up to her knees. The stiletto heels are very tall, and very sharp.

A veil covers much of her face, down to her lips but not covering it (so she can sip her wine without having to lift the veil.) It shows just enough for the viewer to see she is a beautiful woman, expertly made up - and heavy, but not so heavy as to appear gaudy, and enough to prevent anyone from identifying the woman as Anne Marie (unless someone already knew it was her.)

She stops at the table, placing the glass of wine on it, then we see a closeup of her hand hovering over the box. Her nails are long and sharp – beautiful and deadly.

With one sharp pointed nail, she slices through the tape holding the box lid closed. She lifts from the box a black envelope bearing a gold monogram, very fancy, tied with a gold ribbon. With her other hand, she lifts out a small, worn teddy bear.

The room fades to black.

When the light comes up again, the woman is seated in the chair, her legs crossed. The teddy is in her lap facing the camera. One of her hands is resting on the teddy, gently stroking its face with one of her fingers. In her other hand is the wine glass. She takes a sip, then sets her glass on the table and retrieves the letter (which has already been removed from the envelope) and begins reading – while continuing to stroke the teddy bear.

Her voice is like honey, with the slightest hint of an accent – its origins practically impossible to identify.

“‘My dearest Contessa,’” she reads, her voice dripping with allure, “‘I hope this letter finds you in the best of spirits. I write to you today with a humble offering, one that may seem insignificant to the untrained eye, but holds a world of meaning for me. Enclosed with this letter is a small teddy bear. It may look worn, its fur faded, its stuffing coming undone in places, but do not let its appearance deceive you regarding its true value. This bear has been my constant companion for years, a silent witness to my joys and sorrows, my triumphs and failures. It has been hugged, squeezed, and held close through countless nights of loneliness and days of celebration. It is more than just a toy; it is a piece of me.’”

She pauses for a moment, her finger gently moving down to the teddy bear’s chest. As she resumes reading, it’s as if her voice is wearing a spell around the small, inanimate object.

“‘This bear has seen me at my best and at my worst. It has been a source of comfort when I thought all was lost, a reminder of the simple pleasures in life when the world seemed too much to bear. I have held it close when I needed strength, when I needed to remember that even in the darkest moments, there is always something to hold onto. It is a small thing, I know, but it is a part of me that I can no longer keep to myself.’”

The woman pauses. She smiles for the camera as she gently sets the letter down in the teddy bear’s lap, holding on to it with the finger which had been doing the stroking, and reaches for her wine glass to take another sip. Her eyes never leave the camera, as if holding the viewer in thrall. After another sip of wine, and a little moan as if approving of the bouquet, she continues reading.

--
At that point, Anne Marie, sitting on the sofa watching the video, takes a sip of wine from the glass she is holding.
--

“‘And so, my dear Contessa, I send this bear – this piece of my heart – this piece of my soul - to you. I know it may seem foolish, even absurd, to send such a simple thing to someone as magnificent as you. But I hope you will see it not just as a toy, but as a symbol of the adoration I feel for you. You are a woman of unparalleled beauty, of grace and poise, of intelligence and wit. You are a queen, a goddess, a Contessa in every sense of the word. And I am but a humble man, unworthy of even a moment of your time.’”

As she reads, the image fades and is replaced by a close up of the woman, showing everything from her eyes to the tops of her breasts. She is now holding the teddy bear up next to her face, nuzzling against it with her cheek, reading …

“‘And yet, despite my unworthiness, I find myself helpless to refuse you anything.”

Looking closely and deeply into the teddy’s eyes, she whispers “That’s so sweet” and gives the bear a kiss on the forehead. Then we see the wider shot as she sets the bear back in her lap and resumes reading.

“If you were to ask me for the stars, I would find a way to pluck them from the sky.”

She has resumed rubbing the teddy bear’s chest, and now its fat little belly, but this time it is with only the tip of her fingernail.

“If you were to ask me for the oceans, I would find a way to bottle them for you.”

Her nail travels lower. She is now rubbing the teddy bear between its legs – in the groin.

“And so, I beg of you, Contessa, accept this small offering. It is but a token of my devotion, a sacrifice to your beauty and your majesty. I know it can never truly repay you for the gift of your presence in my life, but I hope it will serve as a reminder of the depths of my feelings for you.’”

The Contessa looks up from the letter and smiles – but her smile is much more devious now. With a single hand she crumples up the letter and drops it to the floor beside her chair (though the viewer doesn’t see the floor yet.)

The camera goes dark and light again to show the floor. There are several teddy bears and several crumpled pieces of paper lying about. Then, suddenly, the teddy bear she had just been holding lands unceremoniously on the floor – discarded – just like the letter she just read and a dozen or more letters and teddy bears before it.

Focused on the poor rejected teddy bear, the screen goes dark again, and we hear the footsteps of the Contessa growing more distant as she departs.

--

Anne Marie didn't say a thing just yet, and she tried not to show her own emotions. It turns out the video she had seen time and time again in the editing process took on a whole new life for her as she showed it to someone else - and it made her horny.

She looked at Mitchell - sitting so close to her. So. Fucking. Close. One eyebrow raised slightly, just a millimeter or so. That little look was intended to ask Mitchell what he thought of the video.

 

[TiredFingers]

Anne Marie spoke about how she'd filmed her video and about how hard it had been at times. "But I think it turned out okay."

She started the ... short film? Mitch didn't know for sure what he was watching. They called them so many things on the internet, a different name for every site. The irony was that while he could get Anne Marie's recordings up onto every known social media site, he himself didn't have anything more than a Facebook page and a YouTube channel. It wasn't that he placed anymore importance or stock in either of them. It was just that was where he'd started and, so far, it had been enough for him.

He watched Anne Marie's video intently, his eyes widening imperceptively slow. It was so inconspicuous that to have noticed it, one would have had to be film him with a GoPro on time lapse and play it back at normal speed. Anne Marie had asked him to view the film not as a photographic or videographic critic but as a man. He had no problem doing that. His mind kept inquiring What' coming? What's coming? Oh my God, what's she going to do? At the same time, his cock was asking, Is she getting naked soon? Someone tell me she's getting naked soon! I can't stand this!

With all that was happening, the horny male inside Mitch competed with the producer/director inside him for control over what he should be paying attention to. The one place his gaze kept returning to, ironically, was Anne Marie's face. He knew it was her, of course, because she'd told him. And knowing her, he would have recognized her. He would find it strange later when he thought back to this that he was glad she wasn't naked, as his cock wanted her to be. The tension of seeing her dressed so seductively, so erotically, so tantalizingly, was keeping his cock so stiff that he thought it was going to explode. NOT cum! Literally EXPLODE.

He followed the story of the Countess and the Teddy Bear and found it intriguing. He didn't know anything about FemDom, of course, so he figured he was probably missing something that fans of the kink wouldn't. Mitch wanted to peek right at Anne Marie but avoided it. He could feel that she was watching him, and he didn't know how to react if he made eye contact with her.

Honestly, he was so fucking hot that he might jump her right here, right now. And he knew that would be a mistake. He hadn't been invited here by a cougar looking for fresh meat. She had a plan, and she needed Mitch's skill with computers, cameras, social media, etc. She didn't want his cock, no matter how much his cock wanted her.

When the film ended, Mitchell continued to stare at the black screen for a moment. He didn't know what to say. As a director/producer/cameraman, he'd found it well done. He had some ideas for lighting changes and camera shots. But Anne Marie hadn't asked for that perspective. She'd asked him to view it as man, a man who might be willing to pay money to watch it.

When Mitch finally looked to her, Anne Maria was looking at him. Just as she was thinking, they were sitting so close to each other. It would be so easily to move to her, press against her, kiss her, grope her. Fuck her. But again, that wasn't his purpose for being here.

The look in her eyes was asking What do you think? Mitch's heart was pounding, more from having to respond to the film than to the film itself. He cleared his throat, then licked his dry lips. He considered his words. He wanted to say something that would make her feel good about what she'd created.

No, no! That's not what she wants to hear! She wants to know if, as a man, I enjoyed it. Nervous, he reached over to pick up her wine glass from the coffee table and downed a big gulp. Then, looking to her, smiling nervously, Mitch said, "I don't know if this is what you want to here, but..."

He thought a moment more. He wanted to know that what he said couldn't be misinterpreted as a come on. He realized the best was to prevent this was to be up front. Mitch said, "I'm not exactly sure what to say, Miss Peterson."

He chuckled and blushed at the use of her school marm name, saying, "Sorry, that slipped."

It didn't, actually. Subconsciously he'd used that name as a way to forget. That he was now no longer her middle school student. That she'd lost so much weight and generally turned into a babe that he wanted so badly to fuck her. And that he was sitting here with Anne Marie, on her couch, in her home, alone, watching videos meant to get men hard enough to part ways with their money.

"What I want to say, Anne Marie," he continued. He had to divert his eyes from her to form the sentence. "If I was a man -- a different man, I mean -- and I saw that on the internet, and I actually understood what it meant, because I'm not sure I actually do, which is not a reflection on what you did but a reflection on me!"

He suddenly felt like a sixth grader again, standing at Miss Peterson's desk, trying to look down her blouse. Mitch cleared his throat again, looked her directly in the eyes, and said, "I'll be very blunt with you, and this is probably going to be very inappropriate, and you're probably going to fire me and send me away, and if you do, I promise I won't say anything to anyone ever! I meant it when I signed that thing, that paper."

Mitch paused a moment, screwed up his courage, then blurted out, "I don't know what other men are going to think about that. But I feel like I need to go someplace private and..."

He stopped, suddenly unable to say beat off.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Anne Marie was having trouble trying to figure out what Mitchell was saying, but she had no difficulty understanding why he was having difficulty saying it. He was struggling not to do anything inappropriate, and she didn't want to encourage him. She wasn't quite sure what not encouraging him involved.

Then came the part about needing to go someplace private -- and do what guys do when they need to when they really need to do it. She had to bring her hand to her mouth to hide the smile, and bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Perhaps it would have been better to let him masturbate before the video - Had she underestimated her powers of seduction?

"I said I knew I could trust you, Mitchell. Now, I need to take a potty break.. sorry, a restroom break. You can use the one downstairs if you need to, that door by the stairwell." She was already standing and on her way to the stairs herself.

"The soap in there can be a little harsh on dry skin, so there's a bottle of lotion under the sink of you want to moisturize after you wash."

Or, moisturize before you do that thing that's going to require you to wash up afterward?

"I'm going to ..." no, not slip into something more comfortable ... what kind of impure thoughts would that evoke ... "be down in a few and then maybe we can wrestle that tapestry into the other house before you go. We have all sorts of other things to talk about. Schedules ... and money. And I need to put some things in containers for you to take home with you. Just make yourself at home while you're here - there are all sorts of things to drink in the 'fridge. And if you need to go soon I won't stop you, and we can talk again another time."

--

Upstairs the first thing she did was lock the door, just to be on the safe side. She felt fairly safe - if he was going to jump her he probably would have done it before she made it to the stairs. But still ...

Then, with great horror, she realized what an idiot she had been to give him alcohol. Oh yeah, how would that have looked if anything happened! She was trying to be nice, to treat him like an adult - not make him feel like a child. Fortunately, wine wasn't his drink of choice - and what she had in the refrigerator was all non alcoholic. Except for a couple of bottles of beer. Hopefully, he doesn't like beer either.

It was a great relief to be out of those panty hose, and that bra. If Mitchell wasn't visiting, she might have just gone braless the rest of the day, but that would be a very very bad idea under the circumstances. She also removed her makeup - what little she had worn to church. The less enticing she looked the better.

From what she remembered of Kyle and how long it took him to orgasm while in various degrees of arousal... but then that's when they were making love, not when he was just tending to his animalistic instincts. Anne Marie was in much more comfortable clothing when she quietly opened her bedroom door and listened for sounds of Mitchell rustling around downstairs. Sweat pants that weren't too tight, and a large sweatshirt that was even baggier.

Finally, she decided it was time to go back downstairs. If he wanted to go, she would sent him on his way, gladly. If he wanted to talk more about the plan - she was more than willing to do that as well.

 

[TiredFingers]

"I said I knew I could trust you, Mitchell," Anne Marie told him.

He smiled a bit wider. He liked the way she called him Mitchell. For most of his life, everyone had called him Mitch. He'd gotten used to it, but sometimes he missed his full given name. Mom used to call me Mitchell, he thought as Anne Marie talked about taking a break. He let his eyes fall for a moment to her bosom. Even in her loose-fitting shirt, he could make out the shape of her generous, boosted bosom. He told himself, She ain't your mother, that's for certain. Thank god.

After a moment, he found himself sitting alone on the couch. A moment after that, he recalled what he'd said about needing to be alone. Is that-- Did she-- She didn't mean--

His brain was suddenly swamped with thoughts, most of them dirty. Was she telling me that if I needed to--

No, that couldn't be it. Anne Marie was just tinkling, right? How'd she put it? Take a potty break?

Mitch considered his situation. He was still hard as a rock. He'd been hoping that he wouldn't have to stand up while she was in the room. This would be a good time to 'rearrange' yourself, he told himself. Looking to the stairs and listening for her movements, he knew that Anne Marie wasn't going to see him.

He stood and hurried for the downstairs bathroom. Inside, he shifted his cock around, trying to make it less conspicuous. He failed. His underwear simply weren't capable of holding of containing him when he was this hard. Oh, it wasn't as though he had a donkey cock, hanging down to his knees. He was an average 6 inches long. He knew this because he'd measured himself once. But when he got hard, he got hard! There was little hope of keeping his shaft contained against his groin. It was flagpole time.

Suddenly, Mitch remembered what Anne Marie had said. He opened the door under the sink, finding a bottle of hand lotion. He couldn't help but giggle as it was the same exact bottle he kept between the backside of his mattress and the wall on the floor of his garage bedroom. He pulled it out, opened the top, and sniffed. Unscented, he told himself. Just like mine.

Mitch looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His pants were tented out so noticeably. How the fuck are you going to hide that? he wondered. Maybe he could find--

He started pulling open drawers, searching. And he found what he was looking for, a roll of stretchy elastic tape for ankles. Mitch had once known a girl in school with massive tits who used to bind them to make them less obvious. Couldn't he do that with his cock?

He quickly unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped. His cock sprang out at him. Unrolling the tape, Mitch looked into the mirror. Then, he looked at the bottle of lotion. Then he remembered what he'd said to Anne Marie and how she'd reacted. Within a minute of saying he thought he needed to be alone somewhere, she'd left? I can't. Not here like this. In her bathroom? Fuck! How fucking fucked up!

And yet, after just a few more seconds of feeling the strain that the swelling was causing him, Mitch was coating his hand with lotion, grasping his cock, and stroking his shaft hard and fast. It didn't take long at all. He was so primed! Just seconds into his masturbation, his cock seized, shooting a massive wad of cum all the way out to splash on the mirror!

Mitch grunted without knowing how loud he was, then managed to control his sound as another and another and another volley of his semen splashed upon the spigot, the sink, the counter, and then down to the floor between his shoes. He was leaned over the counter, one forearm on the sink's edge, supporting him. The other hand maintained his grip on his cock as it trembled and continued to drip onto the floor.

Once he regained his senses, Mitch looked to the mess he'd made. Oh, fuck. What the fuck. What. How. Fuck. What a mess.

A minute passed, maybe two? Finally, Mitch stood tall, took several deep breaths, then set about cleaning up. It seemed to take forever. He started with his hand, then put his clothes back together. Then he set about cleaning the mirror, sink, counter, and floor.

Every time he thought he'd gotten the last of his cum, he'd find either another drop or a smear or something. The bathroom had been spotless when he'd come into it. It had to be spotless when he exited it or she'd know what he did.

When he finally couldn't see any sign of what he'd done, he stuffed the wash rags and towel into the middle of the laundry basket. He took a couple of deep breaths before he went outside to the kitchen. Despite feeling more relaxed and less self-conscious about his erection being conspicuous, he still feared she was going to see something in him.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Anne Marie gave Mitch plenty of time, since she was washing her face, changing her clothes, and as it turned out - actually did need to go potty... er.. use the restroom.

When she finally descended the stairs, she gave a quick and chipper apology for taking so long and was glad to see Mitchell wasn't looking at her quite so lustfully. She was sure he would have taken the hint about the lotion, but then again with teenage boys, one never knows.

"Are you in a hurry to go, or do you have time to help me with that tapestry? I want to put it in the other house, so I'll back the van up to the next door garage." Even as she was talking, she was also clearing the table and trying to fix Mitch up with some plastic containers of leftovers to take home with him. "Spaghetti isn't exactly on my diet, and the boys are just as happy with the little O's in the can - much easier for them to eat it that way, so I'm going to give you as much as I can. Do you have a way of carrying all this? Oh, and I'll put some in the fridge next door, too."

And then there was talk of "payment", as well as showing him all the nice expensive equipment she had locked up securely in house #2. Did Mitchell want to hang around and talk money and technology?

Maybe she would even feel the time was right to talk about more "adult" things ... like ... she understands how men are, so don't be afraid to tell her if he needs to masturbate. That's far preferable to a shaking camera - or inappropriate non-consensual touching.

 

[TiredFingers]

(OOC: I saw Alice2015's new pic of Anne Marie. I agree. It has its purpose, doesn't it? More context. I used it below.)

"Are you in a hurry to go," Anne Marie asked after she'd come back downstairs, "or do you have time to help me with that tapestry?"

"No, I mean, yes," Mitch answered, a bit flustered. "No, I'm not in a hurry to go. And yes, I can help."

He stood there in one corner of the kitchen watching her clean up. She'd changed her clothes, but even more than that, she'd shed her bra. He was conflicted about that. Without a bra, her bosom was boosted, creating that deep cleavage he'd seen earlier. But at the same time, her nipples pressed through her top when she moved certain ways. Mitch loved seeing nipples through cloth. Even more than cleavage alone.

"Do you have a way of carrying all this?" she asked about the containers of spaghetti. "Oh, and I'll put some in the fridge next door, too."

They went over to the other studio. As Anne Marie showed some of the equipment she had for filming, she asked him about payment. He told her, "I had a thought about that."

He hesitated, cleared his throat, and screwed up his courage. "What if I worked for you for free at first." He paused a moment, then explained the other side of his offer. He pointed toward a second bedroom door, saying, "Maybe I could live there?"

Mitch again hesitated but, fearing an instant rejection, added, "I'd still drive in from the back, so that no one saw me. I wouldn't tell anyone I was living here. I'd get a PO Box for my mail, not that I get a lot anyway. I pay rent for a room over a garage now, and if I moved in here, I'd have enough money for a 3-credit class at the Tee-Triple "C" campus in Carlson Creek."

He suddenly realized that his heart was pounding almost as hard as it had been after he'd polluted Anne Marie's bathroom with his seed.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Move in to the house next door? Oh dear. That .. that was something she hadn't thought about. And how would that look? No matter how innocent it was - she would need to think about that.

"When is your rent due?" It was barely above a whisper, much softer than she had intended.

Meanwhile, the gears in her mind were turning. It would be handy to have him next door. But openly - no sneaking around - that would only make things worse once someone figured out he was living there.

Could she tell people she was letting him live there in exchange for ... work around the house? Fixing up the inside - that's what she was planning to do anyway. Taking care of both yards. Even watching the boys if she needed to go out. And - if anyone did make some comment, she would quickly remind him that she still saw him as the 6th grade boy who happened to be a little older now. Certainly not a man. Certainly not a man she wanted to be in a relationship with. but... dammit! Why do people have to be so nosey? Why do people have to gossip?

"It would certainly help to have you nearby - for video work and, whatever else." It may have come out as sexually suggestive, but that wasn't how she intended it. She would share with him her thoughts.. rent in exchange for work. The sort of work they could tell people about - not working on sexually explicit videos. "And I'll give you some money, too - after all, I think you're going to be pretty busy with video work, so you need something for your time. Having a free room isn't going to put gas in your motorcycle, or pay for dates with ... well, whatever girl is lucky enough to be dating you."

 

[TiredFingers]

Mitch saw instantly in Anne Marie's face that he's overstepped. He couldn't help but remember that he'd just beat off in her bathroom while she was upstairs. Maybe she was beating off, too. I mean, fingering herself, touching herself, whatever!

None of that had to do with him asking to move into her second house, of course. But it (beating off) had just happened minutes ago. So it was still in Mitch's forethoughts.

"When is your rent due?" she said barely above a whisper.

"It isn't," he answered. Then, with a comical snort, he said, "What I mean is, I don't have an exact rent due date. I pay $5 for each day I live there. I also do some work around the house. We have a wall calendar with a red pen on a string. If I earn $20 doing whatever and give it to them, we write down $20 and cross off four days."

He grimaced a little bit, then confessed, "I think the last day of rent I paid for was the 12th. Of February. This is March."

He blushed. This probably knows that, idiot. He went on, "I recently got a loan for my computer service business, so I was going to pay off the back rent. But one thing in the loan was that it could only be used for the business and for helping people who live in Toland. I don't think that meant me, though. Personally, I mean. Like rent.

"It would certainly help to have you nearby," Anne Marie told him, "For video work and, whatever else."

Mitch's cock tingled a bit at the words whatever. He imagined whatever being just what Anne Marie was thinking it might have sounded like: sex.

If he had had time to come up with a fantasy while beating off, it would have been a fantasy of fucking Anna Marie. Or, the Countess. Anne Marie as the Countess. As it was, though, he'd gone from hand lotion application to spewing all over her bathroom in less that 8 seconds. Hell, bull riders have to stay on for 7 seconds!

To her suggestions regarding labor, Mitch tried to sound less excited than he truly was. "I love yard work. I've been doing that for years. Mowing, edging, trimming. Annual and summer pruning. I do the Mayor's hedges three times a year. He should have it done more than that, but hey, they're his hedges, right?

"Yeah, I can babysit, too," he said to that one. "Kids' love me, especially boys. I love sports. Most boys do. And I have three game consoles. Only a couple of games each, but it's something. I mean, if you allow them brain rot stuff like video games.

"Are they learning music?" Mitch asked. Anne Marie had, of course, been a music teacher. She'd been Mitch's music teacher before the Toland schools closed and he transferred to Carlson Creek. "I still have my guitar. And my clarinet. I need reeds. And strings. Not for the clarinet. The guitar.

"And I'll give you some money, too," Anne Marie said when Mitch stopped rambling.

That made him smile, of course. Every young man needs money. For gas. Maintenance. Rent. He didn't pay electric, even though his poorly insulated garage attic living quarters were drafty and took up as much electric as did the entire rest of the house. That was why he kept it at 66 degrees all the time. He had warm clothes to wear to keep warm. And a stocking cap made for mountain climbing.

Anne Marie continued, "...after all, I think you're going to be pretty busy with video work, so you need something for your time."

"If you think it's fair," Mitch answered. If he'd been thinking with his big head and not his little one, he would have realized that not getting paid wouldn't have worked. He'd burn through his loan money in a flash. Grant money, he reminded himself. He wasn't required to pay back the $5,000. Only use it for his business.

"Having a free room isn't going to put gas in your motorcycle," she went on, "or pay for dates with ... well, whatever girl is lucky enough to be dating you."

Mitch blushed, which took up some blood. He also began to grow down there, which took more blood. Thank God, I don't have a porn cock and a bigger face, he thought. I mighta passed out.

"I'm not dating anyone," he said without thinking. He chuckled. "I don't know why I said that. For the record, I guess."

Excitedly and thinking he might need to say this, he said, "Oh! And I'm not bringing over girls or anything like that. That's not why I suggested living here. I just meant..."

He felt like he was rambling again. Mitch ended softly, "Just didn't want you thinking I was looking for a bachelor pad. This is your place of business. I won't bring girls in here to, for, you know."

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Anne Marie was amused - sometimes greatly amused - by Mitchell's manners as he spoke, trying to answer her questions and concerns and assure her he was a good risk. She hoped her smile would seem kind and friendly and he wouldn't think she was laughing at him on the inside. The most amusing part to her, however, was the thought of how much worse he would be stumbling over his words, how much more disjointed his thoughts, if he hadn't just relieved himself of all that pent-up sexual energy.

Even now, he was still having trouble pulling his eyes off her breast.

"You know, it's funny, I hadn't even considered the possibility of your turning the house into your swinging bachelor pad. I really appreciate your concerns and assurances - but if you want to occasionally have someone over, that's fine with me."

But the house wasn't a done deal, yet.

"One of my concerns is - what if something happens that this doesn't work out. I don't foresee that happening, but it's always wise to consider the options. What would happen then. Would you be able to go back to where you're living now?"

--

"Generally, it's best to already have a deal in place so everyone knows what they're getting in to, but in this case it feels like we'll have to feel out the situation first. I mean, I have no idea what your services are worth. Some people might charge a hundred dollars an hour for certain computer services, an amount I couldn't afford to pay. And I'm not even sure what that hundred dollars an hour covers. To help set up a password, or to help set up an impenetrable security system? How much should I charge for rent on my house, when I'm still using half the house myself? How much should you charge for child care so I can go grocery shopping in peace? How much should I charge for picking up some groceries for you when I go to the store? How much should you charge for mowing one lawn? What about two lawns? You see what I mean? So here's what I suggest ...."

"You move in next door. We tell everyone it's in exchange for your doing some work inside the house to fix it up, plus lawn care and watching the boys occasionally. No sneaking around, someone will surely find out and that's when the rumors would get worse.

"In addition, I pay you a hundred dollars a day for every day you do computer and video work for me. You don't need to punch a clock, but I am talking about getting a significant amount of things done, not just working for fifteen minutes. I can afford to do that for a while, but eventually my OnlyFans will need to start bringing in some money or we'll have to cease operation.

"And finally, I know this is the awkward part, but we need to be able to speak to one another as adults. I'm a little older, and maybe a little more experienced in many ways. I was married, you know, and have three children to prove it. I know young men get sexually aroused. There's no shame in it, and between the two of us, no reason to try to hide it. You're going to be helping me with things. Things that involve touching me, and seeing things a lady doesn't normally show. It's just business, but I know you'll be getting horny."

She smiled, trying to come across as reassuring.

"And I'd much rather you say 'excuse me, I need to go take care of something' and go jerk off, than to -- well... do something counterproductive - like ... uh... shaking the camera, or.. trying something inappropriate.

"Believe it or not, there may be more differences between men and women than you originally thought. Like for instance - there are some women who have never had an orgasm. For me ... sex with my husband was always about - just the closeness... never about the orgasm." Then she chuckled... "Well, from my perspective anyway. He was a guy, you know."

"I just need you to understand that what you see in front of the camera is not me. She's the fantasy created to separate horny men from their money, not a reflection of my own desire for sex."

--

"So, do you understand all this? Are you okay with the arrangement? Any questions or concerns? Anything you feel you need to tell me?"

--

He could move in that very night if he wanted, despite the little angel on her shoulder screaming another warning. Anne Marie had learned to ignore the little angel on her shoulder. It was starting to give her an ear ache.

--

A quick tour of house number two would reveal it is ... kinda small ... but certainly more than Mitch had where he was living. His would be the smaller bedroom, as the Master Bedroom was for "Contessa" - not to sleep in but to make her videos. That bedroom was well-secured, with bars on the windows, very heavy duty hinges, and a very heavy duty deadbolt lock. Not that Contessa was worried about being disturbed, but because she had several thousand dollars worth of electronic and electrical equipment in there.

--

Anne Marie offered to drive Mitch to his old residence in her van, assuming he had more to bring back than he could safely carry on his bike.

 

[TiredFingers]

They talked over a lot of things, from whether he could invite a girl back to his place to what would happen if money issues arose.

"How about we just figure it out as we go," he suggested. "If I think I need more, I'll tell you, and you can decide. And if I have to move back home, I mean back to my friends, I can. I'm sure they'll let me."

Then Anne Marie started talking about personal, sexual stuff. She shocked him with, "And I'd much rather you say 'excuse me, I need to go take care of something' and go jerk off..."

"I wouldn't do that!" Mitch said defensively. Does she know I just did that? Beating off? Oh my god! She knows! He thought about saying that he wouldn't let needed to masturbate get in the way of work. But wouldn't that confirm that he did beat off? He wasn't about to tell Anne Marie that.

When she talked about how some women had never had an orgasm, Mitch noted that she didn't actually say that she hadn't. She'd only said that sex with Kyle hadn't been about her orgasm. Not knowing for sure would bother him for a while. It would also feed some of his fantasies. Mitch imagined being the first man to make her cum.

Anne Marie gave him a tour of the house. It seemed perfect, for both the Countess and Mitch. When they were done, he told her, "I should go ahead and go home tonight. Talk to my landlord tomorrow. Tell them that I'm moving out."

They went their own ways, Anne Marie back to the main house and Mitch back to his little apartment. Where, of course, he beat off to the image of the Countess sitting atop him, writhing.

 

[TiredFingers]

(OOC: For anyone reading along, this post begins a new portion of PRIMARILY 1x1 interaction between Mitchell and Anne Marie.)

Anne Marie's House

Sunday, March 30

Mitchell finished up his work at the Small House and took off for his current home. Anne Marie had offered to let Mitchel move in right away. He'd told her that he thought he should wait until after the upcoming weekend's Winter Festival. "I think it will look better if I'm seen working around your house, earning money, before I start moving in."

Monday, March 31

The first thing he did when he woke up was text Anne Marie: I am doing my other jobs today and telling them I am no longer available. I will be avail to you full-time starting Tues.

He told his current landlords that he'd gotten a job helping with the renovation and yardwork at Miss Peterson's. "Mrs. Wilson's, I mean," he'd corrected. "And I'm going to babysit her kids and teach them stuff that their father would have taught them. You know, riding bikes, throwing a ball. That kind of stuff."

He told them that Mrs. Wilson was also going to pay him some cash. "I'll have your back rent before I leave," Mitchell promised. In reality, he was taking it out of his computer business fund. But they didn't need to know that, did they?"

Tuesday April 1

The first thing Mitchell did upon arriving at Anne Marie's house was make it obvious that he was there. That might have sounded backward. They were, after all, trying to keep Anne Marie's venture and Mitchell's participation it secret. But there was no way to keep his presence on the property secret.

So anytime Mitchell saw one of the neighbors outside, he quickly fetched the lawnmower or hedge trimmer or a ladder and hammer for work on the gutters or a loose attic vent. He would wave to the neighbors, sometimes meeting them at the property line to chat. He would jokingly talk about how his new landlady was quite the Iron Lady. Mitch would also mention her church job and three kids.

By the end of his first full day working here, most if not all of the neighbors understood that Mitchell was there to slave away for free rent and, if he did good, some cash for his pockets.

One of the neighbors, a 55-year-old retired postal carrier named Harvey Crane, noted to Mitchell the physical renovation of Anne Marie's body. Mitchell pretended not to understand the man's meaning when he said, "You might want to keep your door unlocked, you know, in case the Widow Wilson finds a need for some tension release."

"Oh, I think she does yoga," Mitchell responded naively. When the man made a lewd fucking gesture with his fingers, Mitchell responded with feigned shock, "Oh my God, no! She was my middle school teacher. Eww!"

Despite this, when Mitchell got back to the house, he went straight to the Small House's bathroom and once again beat off to fantasies about Anne Marie and her delicious body.

Wednesday April 2

"Okay, enter your password," Mitchell said, turning his back to her. It was her bank access password for her OnlyFans account. He didn't need to know it. When she finished, he said, "Okay, so the NED video payments will go into this account here."

NED was the nickname Mitchell had come up with for her Nutritional, Exercise/fitness, and Diet/Healthy eating videos. They involved voluntary support payments, like Paypal, VenMo, Patreon, etc. He told her, "Just about any way that someone can contribute is just a link away. Two, sometimes three clicks, and the money is yours.

"And for the person contributing," he told her, clicking on this and that as he went on, "they have the option to subscribe, to like, to add to favorites, and more. And if they contribute five times, for at least three-ninty-nine each, they get a personal message of thanks from you. I read that contributions increase 300% if the contributors got something personal for it. It's time consuming for you, but it'll be worth it in the end.

"Now, for the Countess," Mitchell went on, switching to a different page, "I set up separate accounts, obviously. But here's the magic of it all."

He explained how the money contributed to the Countess's accounts was automatically transferred through an overseas online banking system to her NED accounts. "That's how they used to do poker sites in the US. You bought a gift certificate from one company with your debit card, but the money went automatically to your online poker account. Even though they closed that down for poker, it's still open for other things.

"The beauty is that the money will look like it's coming into for your NED videos," he went on, clicking and clicking, pointing and pointing. "It makes your income there look legit in case you get audited."

He laughed, continuing with ever growing excitement, "But it gets better yet! The Countess account is set up to automatically erase payment entries to keep your income less than $49 a week, which means that you don't have to actually claim it as income. But the watch count remains there, with Likes and Favorites, so if people look for popular videos, they find the Countess."

He leaned back in his chair, smiling as he drank one of the light beers that Anne Marie had told him he could keep in the Small House's fridge so long as he didn't become a lush. "So, impressed?"

Thursday April 3

Mitchell spend most of Thursday sitting in an old bean bag chair he'd brought from his former residence. He'd spent most of the day reading scripts for the Countess. And he'd spent most of the day with a stiffy.

Anne Marie spent most of the day wrangling her boys and doing motherly things. Occasionally, though, she would come over to check on him. She wanted to know what he thought of the scripts. Some of them were entirely original. Some of them were inspired by things she'd found online. All of them had caused him to want to go to the bathroom and beat off.

When she asked what he thought, he nearly showed Anne Marie his tented groin. Instead, he left the script hiding him and simply said, "They're great. This'll make you money. Guaranteed."

Anne Marie expressed her concern that one video a week might not be enough. She mentioned her less risqué videos. They were mostly free, though. They wouldn't bring in money.

"I have a solution for that," he told her. Mitchell went to a site that explained how to make a profitable porn site. He quickly said, "We're not doing porn, but the concept is the same."

He explained how they would use teasers, links, thumbnails, and accumulated points (for likes, favorites, comments, and shares) to give fans free access to some of the pay videos. "But we never let them see the whole video, only the part that gets them excited. Not the part that--"

Mitchell stopped before he said got them off. He explained how these teasers would lead to more subscriptions and memberships. The last step was setting up the link between her OnlyFans and her Capital City banking information. And then, like that, Anne was ready to make money.

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

Anne Marie's House
Wednesday, April 2

For all her lecturing Mitchell about the realities of adulthood, and despite his outward appearance as a handsome young man, Anne Marie had still been having difficulty seeing him as little more than a geeky little 7th grader trying to sneak peeks down her blouse. On the 2nd of April, the geeky little 7th grader was exorcised from her life forever.

A few wows and amazings peppered the conversations - which were more like lectures - as the young man explained the complex computer moves he was making. Anne Marie felt like the child this time, one still struggling with multiplication tables, while Mitchell the teacher was introducing her to Algebra.

"Impressed? I'm way beyond impressed. This is absolutely amazing!" She stopped short of asking how or where (or why) he learned this magic - and instead just threw her arms around his neck for a hug.

It wasn't a sexual hug - not for her, anyway. It was a hug for a friend who had done something amazing for her. "There is no way" she whispered, "without your help I would be ..." then she laughed as she realized what came next ... "helpless." She resisted the urge to make promises, like cutting him in for a percentage instead of just paying him some random sum of cash periodically. She knew she had to wait until the money actually started coming in.

"Oh, I have another idea to share for Contessa. Let me get it for you." She broke the hug as quickly as she'd initiated it, hurrying over to a countertop where a large manila envelop lay. "I was .. feeling inspired ... thinking this is the sort of thing Contessa could inspire others to do" she smiled... a hint of naughtiness showing through. Something people didn't normally expect for prim and proper English teacher Anne Marie. "Do you think we can start Friday? Maybe after a light lunch? Around Noon? That's when I'm dropping the boys off at their grandmother's. Just the makeup and wardrobe will eat up a lot of our time. Or if you're busy, we can try to get an earlier start on Saturday." Her plan was to shoot more than one video per session and have several videos ready to go, since surely they would miss the occasional weekend of shooting - otherwise they might not be able to meet their commitments to her fans.

--

(OOC note - One of the scripts can be found in the next post - it is entitled "The Key")

 

[DreamingOfMyEx]

(OOC note - I tried putting the text of the script in a spoiler, but it wouldn't open for me, hence the edit to reveal the whole thing)

--

Her style was more narrative than written like a script.

It was Anne Marie's style, trying to get the flavor across - not just stage directions - turn right, look up, look down, exit stage left - but as if the narrative was created to assist in the woman's conversion from wholesome girl-next-door mom of three to the dangerous exotic alluring Contessa.

--

"The Key"

The camera lens focuses, crisp and unforgiving, on the figure enthroned. Velvet, deep burgundy, pooled around her, draping the ornate chair that could have been lifted from a forgotten palace. The light catches the facets of a heavy crystal glass half-filled with ruby-red wine on a small table to her right, the liquid shimmering like captured starlight. She is seated, posture impeccable, one hand resting lightly on the armrest, the other holding a cream-colored envelope, the paper thick and expensive. Heavy makeup transforms her face into a sculpted mask – lips a lacquered crimson, eyes amplified by dark liner and shadow, brows meticulously shaped arches. A veil, whisper-thin but effective, hangs from a delicate crown of braided hair, obscuring just enough to create an alluring mystery. It’s sheer enough to reveal the underlying beauty, the high cheekbones, the firm jawline, but thick enough to make definitive identification impossible. This is Contessa.

Her fingers, long and tipped with sharp, crimson nails that gleam under the studio lights, delicately break the seal of the envelope. She draws out a letter, unfolded, and holds it for a moment, as if savoring the anticipation she knows she generates. The camera zooms slightly, just enough to emphasize the precision of her movements, the almost theatrical grace. She is aware of the lens, intimately so. This is her stage. She begins to read, her voice a low, husky contralto, practiced and hypnotic.

“To our Dearest Contessa,” she reads, the words flowing smoothly, effortlessly. “We hope this letter finds you in good spirits, enthroned in your rightful dominion.” She pauses, a slight tilt of her head, a flicker in her heavily made-up eyes that might be amusement, or simply calculation. She continues. “Words cannot express the profound impact you have had on our lives. Before we found you, our days were…routine. Predictable. We were trapped in the mundane, the ordinary. You, Contessa, have shattered that glass cage. You have shown us the intoxicating power of…release.”

Another pause. She glances up, not at the camera directly, but just past it, as if acknowledging a phantom audience. Her lips curve slightly, a hint of a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She returns to the letter.

“We are both in law enforcement,” she reads, the words measured and clear. “Police officers, to be precise. It's a world of rules, regulations, and unwavering adherence to order. A world of restraint. But within us, Contessa, there is a different world. One you have awakened. A world where power is not just enforced, but experienced. A world where boundaries are meant to be…explored.”

The camera holds on her face, catching the almost imperceptible widening of her eyes as she absorbs this detail. Police officers. There is a subtle shift in her posture, a barely noticeable increase in alertness. She continues reading, her voice unwavering.

“Your videos… they are more than just entertainment to us. They are a catharsis. Watching you, specifically with the teddies… the deliberate, exquisite cruelty… it resonates deeply within us. The way you dominate, the way you exert your will… it is breathtaking. It is… intoxicating.”

She sets the letter down for a moment, resting it on the table next to her wine. Reaching out, she picks up a small, velvet pouch that had been lying unseen beside the letter. She opens the drawstring with a swift flick of her wrist, and tips the contents into her palm. A glint of gold catches the light. She presents her open hand to the camera, displaying the object within.

It is a handcuff key. But not just any handcuff key. This one is different. The shaft and bow are crafted from solid gold, polished to a high shine. Intricate engravings snake around the bow, delicate swirls that seem almost too ornate for such a functional object. At the end of a fine, gold chain, also heavy and obviously expensive, the key hangs like a pendant.

Contessa picks up the letter again, holding the handcuff key in her other hand, a study in contrasts - the delicate script of the letter, the glittering metal of the key, the crimson of her nails. She reads on.

“We know you appreciate sacrifice, Contessa. We understand the gifts of teddies, of finances – they are tokens of devotion, symbols of surrendering something precious to you. We wanted to offer something… more. Something uniquely ours.”

She pauses, and this time, the silence is more pronounced. She looks directly at the camera for the first time, her masked eyes seemingly piercing through the lens. Then, she returns to the letter, her voice dropping slightly, becoming even more intimate, conspiratorial.

“These are our wedding rings, Contessa.” She reads the words, letting them hang in the air. “We melted them down. Our gold wedding bands, symbols of our vows, our commitment, our…ordinary love. We have repurposed them, Contessa. Transformed them. Into this.” She gestures with the hand holding the handcuff key, letting it dangle and catch the light once more. “The chain,” she continues, voice steady, “was a gift from him to her, on our first anniversary. It was… sentimental. But sentimentality pales in comparison to devotion, doesn't it, Contessa? To true worship.”

She sets the letter down completely now, placing the handcuff key on the table beside it. She picks up her glass of wine, swirling the dark liquid within, watching the light dance and refract. She takes a slow, deliberate sip, the crimson staining her lips a deeper shade. She sets the glass back down with a soft thud.

She looks at the camera again, her gaze intense, almost predatory. Her voice, when she speaks, is low, almost a whisper, but amplified perfectly by the microphone.

“Police officers,” she repeats the words, tasting them, savoring them. “They uphold the law. They are meant to protect and serve. And yet…” She lets the sentence hang, unfinished, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

She picks up the handcuff key, turning it over in her fingers, examining the craftsmanship, the weight of the gold. She brings it closer to the camera, letting the lens focus on the intricate engravings, the solid gold, the cold, functional form.

“They surrendered their vows,” she says softly, almost to herself. “Their promises. Their love. Melted them down. To create this.” She holds the key up, between her thumb and forefinger, displaying it like a prize. “For me.”

She leans back into her throne, the velvet rustling softly around her. She picks up the letter again, glancing at it briefly, then tosses it casually onto the table. The letter flutters and lands beside the wine glass, seemingly insignificant now, overshadowed by the weight and meaning of the golden key.

She considers the key dangling on the end of the chain, her expression unreadable behind the veil and makeup. Does she feel anything? Gratification? Amusement? Triumph? It's impossible to tell. Her face is a mask, perfectly composed, perfectly in control.

She lifts the key, brings it to her lips, and kisses the cold gold, a brief, chaste touch. Then, she sets it down again, beside the letter, beside the wine. She looks at the camera, and for the first time, a genuine smile, cold and sharp as shattered glass, stretches her lips. It is not a warm smile, not an inviting smile. It is a smile of pure, unadulterated victory.

“Exquisite,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Truly exquisite.”

The camera holds on her face, on the throne, on the golden key and the discarded letter, lingering for a moment longer, capturing the tableau of power, devotion, and absolute, unyielding dominance. Then, the screen fades to black.

 

[TiredFingers]

Anne Marie's House
Wednesday, April 2

Mitchell's cock twitched a bit as Anne Marie excitingly hugged him for all he'd done regarding her payment arrangements for the Contessa. By the time she pulled away, he was once again happy he was sitting down. Otherwise, his erection could be conspicuous.

"Oh, I have another idea to share for Contessa," she said, hurrying off to get a large manila envelop. "Do you think we can start Friday?"

"This is Winter Festival weekend," he pointed out with a Did you forget? tone. "I have stuff going on all weekend. I'm running one of the snow machines Thursday night and Friday morning. And helping with the toboggan course after that, and the ... well, I can't even list them all, between what I'm being paid to work at and what I'm participating in or just having fun doing."