Mrs. B was the neighborhood MILF. A group of us had been lusting after her since we were in our teens and she was in her 30s. She was married then, and her husband knew we all thought she was hot. I think it was a source of pride for him. Having the hottest wife in the neighborhood.

Every Halloween when we showed up with our lame costumes and plastic bags — being far too old to be trick-or-treating — he’d simply say, “Hi, boys. Back again this year?”

We’d mumble something stupid, and he’d call out, “Maribeth! Come bring the candy bowl for our guests.”

If my friends were like me — and I knew they were — we were all sporting half tents in our pants when she showed up. Usually dressed as something sexy.

One year a sexy witch, the next a sexy alien. One year, and this was my favorite, she was a sexy tin soldier. Dear God, that was a good year.

I pulled up to the front of my parents’ place and relived my fond memories as I glanced at her house. Word from my folks was that she and her husband had divorced years ago and their adult kids had moved away, but Mrs. B still lived there.

I was back in my hometown to watch my parents’ menagerie of rescue dogs, while they went on a winter cruise. I figured I’d have one or two nighttime jerk-off sessions thinking of the hot wife of my youth.

I was grabbing my bag from the trunk when I saw her come out, dragging a recycling bin behind her.

I was in my 20s, which meant she was probably in her late 40s or early 50s. I had no idea. But she was just as spectacular as ever.

I was suddenly distracted by my dad bellowing my name, my mother kissing my cheek and their swarm of dogs jostling for pets.

I was hustled inside, given a million instructions and later stood on the porch waving goodbye to my folks as their airport shuttle hustled them off. As they were pulling away, my father yelled, “It’s time for evening walkies!”

I was laughing as I clipped up four big dogs and promised the two little ones I’d be back for them. They gave me puppy-dog eyes, and I sighed, clipping them up, too.

“All right. This will be interesting! Let’s go, gang.”

And out we went. There was still snow covering the lawns, but the roads were clear. My parents live on a quiet street with not a lot of traffic and no sidewalks. A swarm of sniffing, roaming dogs wasn’t a big deal in their neck of the woods.

I was just in front of Mrs. B’s house when a little pup darted beneath the leash of a big one, and my pack of mutts turned into a clusterfuck.

“Guys! Guys!” I yelled.

I heard her voice say, “Let me help. I have to help your dad all the time.”

I froze.

Mrs. B was squatting there in her snug black sweater and faded jeans while the dogs assaulted her with licks and nuzzles. She laughed, and my close-up view of her confirmed my suspicion that she was no less hot than she’d been all those years ago.

As she untangled the leashes, her V-neck sweater offered me a good look at her impressive cleavage. I really shouldn’t look, but my God — what a sight!

We ended up chatting as the dogs roamed around her and the lawn. Finally, she said, “You really should come over for a glass of wine later, so we can catch up.”

I blinked at her. Wine? Me? And then I remembered I was a grown-ass man — not a boy.

“Yeah, sure. What time?” I asked, trying to play it cool.

“How about an hour? I can whip up some little nibbles for us.”

Nibbles. I knew what I’d like to nibble.

I shook off the thought and herded the dogs down the road and then back home.

Once there, I took a shower and jerked off while the hot water streamed down over my body. Every image in my mind was of Mrs. B. I came with a force that was breathtaking. I dried off and yanked on a green sweater and jeans.

I wandered over, having swiped a bottle of cabernet from my parents’ liquor cabinet.

She came to the door wearing the same outfit as before, but this time she was barefoot. Flames crackled in the fireplace, and the house smelled like cinnamon.

She invited me inside and took the wine from me. We sat together on the couch. I had an instant hard-on, though I tried not to think about it.

“How have you been? How’s life?”

“Fine,” I said. “Graduated last year. New job in advertising. Two loud smelly roommates. Living the dream,” I said. “How about you? Remarried?” I asked, feeling her out about her situation.

She gave me a wry smile and put her hand on my thigh. I felt my cock twitch and my breath catch.

“Come on, now. Do you really think I’d have invited you over if I was?”

“Maybe?”

“I was hoping — now that you’re an adult — we could maybe enjoy some more adult activities.”

“You know?” I asked.

“What? That you’ve always liked me?” She leaned close.

“You could say that,” I said, seconds before her lips touched mine.

“You always were the most lovestruck of them all,” she said, nuzzling me. “Not to sound conceited.”

“We were all hot for you,” I said. When she suddenly straddled me, I was sure I’d actually died and gone to heaven.

She moved so that her clothed pussy was directly over my cock. Then she pushed her hands in my hair and pulled me forward for another kiss. She tugged on my hair just enough for me to feel a brief but intoxicating bite of pain.

I slid my hands up under her sweater, finding her braless. It wasn’t my most suave moment, but she didn’t seem to mind. I cupped her large tits and gave them a squeeze, and when she moaned into my mouth, I pinched her nipples.

She hissed and gently bit my tongue, and I jerked with surprise.

She reached between our bodies and pulled down my zipper. She freed my cock and stroked me, massaging my shaft with her warm hand.

The moment was the epitome of every fever dream I ever had as a young man who’d discovered the joys of masturbation.

She stroked me for a few minutes, and then she suddenly pulled back to slide down off me. She got on her knees between my legs and asked, “Do you taste as good as you feel?”

I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing as she leaned forward to take my cock into her mouth. She slid her lips down to the base of my dick. Her fingers stroked my balls, and I exhaled mightily, loving the feeling of her tongue on me.

I thrust up and into her willing mouth, making her laugh.

She pulled back to say, “You’re an eager boy.”

“I’m not such a boy anymore.”

I put my hand on the back of her head and pushed her face back toward my dick. Her blonde hair was soft beneath my fingers.

She took my lead and swallowed my shaft once more. When she’d whipped me up into frenzy with her mouth and tongue, I pulled away and said, “Take off your clothes, Mrs. B.”

She sat back on her haunches and wiped the sides of her mouth.

“It’s actually Ms. B now, but that’s OK.”

I started to correct myself, but she shook her head and I stayed silent.

She pulled her sweater over her head, baring those spectacular tits. They were even better than they’d been in my imagination.

She stood, letting me get a good look at her because she knew I wanted to. She shoved her snug jeans down to reveal black cotton panties. Then those went, too, and she stood there naked and spectacular.

“God,” I said.

“Maribeth, actually,” she replied cheekily.

I pushed down my jeans and kicked them to the side. Next went the boxer briefs and my sweater, while she stood there watching me hungrily. I sat back on the couch and snagged her wrist, tugging her forward. My cock was throbbing with the urge to be buried inside her.

I didn’t have to wait long. She climbed back onto my lap, her pussy riding the length of my cock. It was nestled along her outer lips. She was hot and wet and tantalizingly soft.

“Put it in me,” she whispered in my ear, raising herself slightly. I aimed my cock at its target and watched her face as she took me inch by inch.

I held her hips and moved up into her slick cunt. Every time she lunged down on me, I thrust up. Being deep inside her drenched heat was bliss.

I raked my teeth along her shoulder as she clutched my forearms and rode me. She moved faster and then faster still. I could tell by the way she rolled her hips and swayed on my lap that she was close to climaxing. Her pussy grew wetter by the second. I sighed when I felt her first orgasmic spasm hit, milking my dick. She bit my earlobe and came as she chanted, “Yes, yes, yes.”

I gave her a minute — gave myself a minute — then I wrapped my arms around her and stood. She was kissing me and chuckling at the same time.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I backed her up to the wall in her foyer, her small body still clinging to mine. My frame was so much bigger than it was back in the day. I wanted to enact my fantasies, pushing her to the wall and taking her there.

With her back pressed to the wall, I kept a firm grip on her ass. She kept her legs wrapped around me. Her pussy was hot and silky — and still quivering from coming.

I started to move, thrusting deep into her cunt while holding her steady. She reacted to every motion I made. Her mouth slipped along my neck, and her teeth nibbled at my shoulder. I sighed and fucked her with a lazy rhythm, letting myself feel every slip and every slide as I savored every moment of being buried in her wet cunt.

Her fingernails dug into my back, and that put things into motion. She bucked against me, using the wall for leverage. From the growing tightness of her cunt, I gathered she was going to come again, and I started to move even faster.

“Yes, yes,” she hissed in my ear.

I gripped her ass cheeks so hard I worried I’d bruise her, but it only made her gasp and wriggle against me more. Suddenly, we were at the beginning of the end.

She came, spasm after spasm hitting her. Her pussy worked my cock to the point of no return. I emptied into her, groaning. I plowed into her roughly for the last few strokes, and then I grew still.

The playful tone of her voice trickled into my ear as Ms. B whispered, “You sure have grown up.”