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I finished work, and drove home, as usual. I stopped at the Mall to pick up a birthday present for my mom. I gave a lot of thought about what to get her. She was forty-five and had just about everything she needed and most of what she wanted. But since dad died in a car wreck two years before, mom just kind of faded, and I wanted to cheer her up. I found a nice robe that I thought she would like; the robe she wore around the house was, to use mom's word, "ratty."
Dad had enough life insurance that money was never going to be a worry. Mom used some of that insurance money and bought me a pickup truck when I finished High School. I wanted to see what it was like to have a regular job before starting college. The truck got me to and from work and it was handy for running errands. .
I didn't have any luck with girls; I guess I am kind of shy around girls. People told me what a good-looking "boy" I was. I thought I was ordinary looking. I was tall and gangly, a pretty good basketball player, and that, was about it.
Once I did manage to get a date with a pretty girl. We parked someplace dark and she let me feel her breasts. That made me cum in my pants and the girl laughed and laughed. I have a few guy friends, but the ones who didn't go off to college, were busy with jobs and their girlfriends.
I used to wonder about mom. She and dad had a very active sex life. I could often hear them "doing it" through the wall between their bedroom and mine. I got to recognize the difference between the sounds they made when they came. And I made my own stifled grunts and moans when I ejaculated while listening to my parents having sex.
Now, though not as often as before, I could hear the characteristic sounds mom made when she was cumming; a series of long grunts finished by an "AAhh." I wondered what she masturbated to.
For as long as I could remember, mom had been the woman of my jack-off fantasies. One time mom walked into my room just when my sperm was arcing high in the air and splatting on my chest. She had a look of horror and quickly left my room. Later, she apologized for barging in on me. And the next day she gave me a little sign that hooked over a doorknob and read "Do Not Disturb"
"Now Steve, you won't have any embarrassing interruptions by little old ladies like me."
I blurted, "You're a beautiful woman, Mom. I was thinking of doing it with you when you caught me." And as my face turned red and purple and I wanted just die, Mom touched my cheek very tenderly and kissed me softly on the lips.
"Steve, there's just the two of us her, so we can talk plainly. I've wanted take you to bed, even before your father died." She held my eyes to hers and said, "But we both know that ain't gonna happen. Don't we?"
I had to agree that of all the wrong things I could do, fucking my mom would be the wrongest.
But I was a nineteen-year-old virgin boy with boiling hormones. I was too shy to pursue girls. Besides, they didn't seem as sexy as the older women, women my mom's age. Maybe next year, in college, things would change.
Mom got all dressed up one day to go to one of the political meetings she was busy with. It was a woman's political club and I had seen some of her fellow club members. They were in their forties and fifties and in my virgin mind, a few were extremely fuckable. God! I would have drank their bath water. That's how bad I had it.
All alone in the house, I got on the internet and clicked on a link that said, "Find cougars here."
I had heard the term "cougar" but wasn't quite sure what it meant. It was a dating site that specialized in bringing "older women" together with young studs. As I navigated around the site, I was thrilled that women, attractive women, of my mother's age, were advertising for young guys like me. I got out my credit card and signed up.
I used the search function on the site and found quite a few good-looking older babes looking for a good time with a young stud.
I hung my Do Not Disturb sign on my doorknob and settled down with a hand towel and read through the profiles of the women. Most had posted their pictures and they were good-looking for their age. They were not a bit bashful about what they wanted from a young guy like me. I couldn't believe this was real. Reading their profiles made me so hot that I shot two loads into the towel.
With some of the pressure relieved from my balls, I was able to navigate through the site with a clearer head. I filled out my profile, giving honest answers to the questions, typing "virgin" into the experience box; and I uploaded a week-old photo of myself. It was a good shot of my face and bare torso. Mom had snapped it after I finished shooting baskets one afternoon. My hair was tousled, I had a crooked smile; rivulets of sweat glistened on my thin chest.
I wondered how many--if any--responses I would get. My imagination and sex glands took over and I shot two more loads into the hand towel.
All the next day at work I had visions of my inbox filled with emails from "cougars" who couldn't wait to get me in bed. Finally, I got back home, wolfed down supper and went to my room. I made sure that the "do not disturb" sign was on my doorknob.
There was only one email in my inbox. The message read, "Wanna chat? Say about 7 tonight?"
I looked up the profile of the woman. She had posted two pics of herself. The first was a head and shoulders shot showing a brunette with short cut hair. She had a plain oval shaped face with a pert nose and a generous slash of lips. Her facial expression looked stern. There were crows feet wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and lips. Some of the cords of her neck were visible. Overall, she was very pretty for her age, which she claimed was forty-five. The same age as mom.
The second picture gave a different impression. She was exiting a car, smiling at the camera, holding a martini glass. Her skirt was hiked up, showing a lot of shapely, nylon clad thigh, the straps of her garter belt stretched tight. Wow! And she wanted to chat with me. My heart was beating hard even as my cock grew to its full length. I replied to her email, saying I'd be online at seven. It was almost seven already.
The cougar website had a chatroom function for cam chat with audio.
I got set up in the general room and looked for her screen name among the more than hundred on the list. A message box appeared. "Go to private room, 'nylons.' "
I'm not much of a chatroom fan, so it took me a while to figure out how to do that.
When I entered the room, I saw her screen name and mine beneath it, saying I just entered the room.
With a lump in my throat I typed "Hi!"
"Do you have a cam?" she typed back.
"Yeah."
In a few moments and after a couple of false starts, we could see each other and talk.
"You are really a cute ki...guy." she said.
She didn't look as rigid as the face picture in her profile. Now she seemed softer, sensuous--eager, even. She was wearing a dark robe, closed to the neck. I told her she was beautiful and I meant it.
"Are you really a virgin," she asked. That's hard to believe for a guy as good looking as you."
"Well, I am. I don't know how to prove it."
"Why do you want to have sex with an older woman?"
"I don't really know...I'm just attracted to older women. Why do you like young guys"