Friend's sexy mom

It happened to me a couple of months ago. I'm twenty-five, an ordinary guy, working in IT, living alone in a small apartment in the city center. I have a friend, Vitka, and we've been inseparable our whole lives, drinking beer and playing soccer together. His mother, Aunt Ira, is forty-five, but looks thirty-five: slim, with long brown hair that she often wears in a ponytail, green eyes, and a figure you can't take your eyes off. She has D-cup breasts, a narrow waist, and a round butt—she works as a fitness trainer, so her body is in good shape. I always sneaked glances at her when I visited them: she'd walk around the house in leggings or shorts, smiling warmly at me, sometimes joking about "young stallions." Vitka didn't suspect a thing; to him, she's just his mother, but to me, she's an object of fantasy. I imagined her seducing me, but I never thought it would become reality. It all started when Vitka went away on a business trip for a week—he works in sales and often travels from city to city. Aunt Ira was left alone in their apartment, and one evening she called me. I was at home, drinking beer, watching a TV show, when I saw her number on the screen—strange, she usually only calls if something is wrong with Vitka. "Hello, Aunt Ira?" I answered. She laughed in a hoarse voice: "Hi, Sashka. Listen, Vitka's gone, and the light bulb in my bathroom burned out, and I'm afraid to climb the stepladder alone. Could you pop in and help? I'll order you a pizza as a thank you." I agreed immediately—a chance to be alone with her? Of course! But she added: "Just don't tell Vitya, okay? He'll think I'm helpless." I chuckled: "Of course, our secret." Half an hour later I was at their place, with a light bulb in my pocket – I bought it on the way. She opened the door wearing a light robe that barely covered her hips, her hair loose, her makeup light, but her lips bright red. "Come in, darling," she said, hugging me by the shoulders. Her chest pressed against mine, and I smelled her perfume, sweet, with a hint of vanilla. I quickly changed the light bulb in the bathroom; she stood nearby, "helping" – sometimes she'd offer her hand, sometimes bend down, and the robe would open slightly, revealing a lacy bra. "You're such a handyman, Sashka," she whispered. "And Vitka can't even hammer a nail." We laughed, and she invited me into the kitchen – pizza was already waiting, plus a bottle of wine. "Let's sit while he's gone," she suggested. "Tell me how things are with girls? You're so cute, you probably have a lot of girls." I blushed, but the wine loosened my tongue: I told her about my ex, and how I was single now. She listened, nodding, her foot "accidentally" brushing against mine under the table. "And I've been single for five years now, since my divorce from Vitka's father," she sighed. "Men my age are boring, but young men... like you, are interesting." Her eyes sparkled, and I realized she was flirting. We finished our wine, and she suggested, "Let's go into the living room and watch a movie." She sat closer to me on the couch than necessary, her thigh pressed against mine. The movie was romantic, with erotic scenes, and at one point she rested her head on my shoulder. "Do you mind?" I hugged her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through her robe. "Of course not, Aunt Ira." She turned and looked into my eyes. "Just call me Ira. We're adults, after all." And she kissed me—softly but insistently, her tongue sliding into my mouth. I responded, my hands reaching under the robe—there was nothing there but smooth skin. "Wow," I whispered. "You're without..." She giggled. "I love the freedom of home." We kissed hungrily, I caressed her breasts—heavy, with hard nipples, she moaned softly. "Sashok, I've been looking at you for a long time... You're so strong." She unbuttoned my jeans, pulled out my cock—it was hard as a stake—and began to jerk him off slowly, looking into my eyes. "Do you want me?" she whispered. I nodded, and she straddled me on the couch, her robe falling open completely. Her pussy was wet, with a neat strip of hair, and she sat on me, taking my cock inside—tight, hot. "Oh, it's so big..." she moaned, starting to move. "Fuck me, darling." We fucked right there on the couch: first she was on top, jumping, her breasts bouncing in front of my face, I sucked on her nipples, biting them lightly. Then I flipped her onto her back and entered sharply, holding her hips. She scratched my back, moaning louder: "Deeper, Sashka, fuck me!" I increased the tempo, feeling her tighten around me, and she came first – her body trembled, she screamed, digging her nails in. I pulled out, came on her stomach – the sperm spread across her skin, she smeared it with her fingers, licking: "Delicious..." We lay there, hugging, and she whispered: "This will be our secret, okay? Not a word to Vitka." I agreed, but it didn't end there. She said: "Come again tomorrow, I'll be waiting for you." The next day, I arrived early – she was waiting for me in sexy lingerie: a black set with stockings and high heels. "I want you all evening," she said, dragging me into the bedroom. There, we experimented: first, she gave me a blowjob – greedily, swallowing deep, drool running down her chin, her eyes looking up, like in a porno. "How I love sucking your dick," she muttered. Then I licked her – her pussy was sweet, she held my hair, pressing: "With your tongue deeper, yes!" We fucked in different positions: doggy style in front of the mirror, where she looked at us, moaning: "Fuck me harder, like a whore." I spanked her ass, and she squealed with pleasure. She didn't let me take it in the ass – "Next time, if you're a good boy," she winked. We finished together: me inside, her on top of me, clenching in a violent orgasm. This went on all week – every evening I came over, we fucked for hours, secretly. She cooked dinner naked, wearing an apron, we ate, then went back to bed. Vitka came back, didn't suspect a thing, but Aunt Ira sometimes texts me: "Come see me, my son's not here." We meet secretly, at my place or hers. It's an adrenaline rush—knowing that your friend knows nothing, and his mother is my lover. She's sexy, insatiable, and teaches me new things. I don't regret a second of it—we're happy.