Marsha smoothed back her red hair and walked slowly toward her front door. She was in the middle of her workout and not eager to greet a door-to-door salesman, or for that matter anyone who'd talk long enough that her heart rate would slow. She needed to keep it at 80% of her maximum rate for 45 minutes if she was going to keep the cellulite from building up on her 41-year-old thighs.
She opened the door and was surprised to see Amy, the 18 year old friend of Marsha's daughter Emily.
"Amy, come on in, you're soaking wet." Marsha almost pulled Amy in her front door, noticing rain dripping off Amy's long brown hair. She also noticed the way Amy's wet cotton blouse clung to her bosom, and she felt awkward looking at the teenager that way.
Marsha closed the door and shepherded Amy into the kitchen, where she handed her the two clean dishtowels that were on the counter. Amy took one and ran it around her face, then wrapped her hair in it and started to squeeze the water out. Marsha watched Amy's breasts through the damp fabric and noticed that her bra was sheer, and her nipples hard from the cold. Marsha felt her own stiffen through her sports bra. She realized this wasn't the first time she'd looked at Amy this way.
"Emily's still at the soccer match, it's an away game today," said Marsha, wondering why Amy didn't know that. "She won't be home until close to 8:00. Let me get you something hot to drink. Tea? Hot cocoa?"
"Tea would be nice, Mrs. Walker." Amy smiled as she lay the damp dishtowel on the kitchen island. "So I've discovered Mrs. Walker's fountain of youth," nodding to Marsha's exercise mat. "Emily says you're addicted."
"No more than Emily is addicted to soccer." Marsha walked to the mat, grabbed her own towel, and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her gray tank top was damp between her breasts with the sweat of 75 situps and three sets of leg lifts. Her navy blue athletic shorts hid the sweat below her waist. "Besides, I need it to keep up with you young beauties."
"You keep up fine, Mrs. Walker. Believe me, all the girls think you're the hottest mom in school. Some of the boys, too." As she added the last sentence, she looked at Marsha coyly through a mass of brown curls as she brushed more water out of them.
"The boys?" asked Marsha with a hint of interest. "I doubt that." She had noticed a few of Emily's male friends giving her a good lookover from time to time, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. It made her feel more youthful, more attractive. She even found herself flirting back a little, with a not-so-subtle smile, a tilt of her head, running her fingers thru her hair as she smiled. It invigorated her. She often seduced her husband after such evenings, practically attacking him in bed and giving him passionate sex.
It's not that he didn't look, and flirt, too. He was just more obvious about it, and more obvious about his arousal too. Probably the girls noticed it too. Marsha noticed their giggling after he left the room. On those occasions where they both flirted in the same evening, and were both aroused, he found her possessed with a passion that he thought he instilled in her. She pretended it was he that aroused her, and she rewarded him with a slow sensuous blowjob, or even let him take her anally. All the while, though, she imagined it was one, or more, of those young men she had been flirting with.
The whistle of the teapot startled her back to reality. She blushed at her wanton thoughts and looked at Amy, almost worried that Amy had read her mind. Quickly she withdrew two teacups from the cabinet next to the stove, added the teabags and poured the steaming water into the cups.
"Cream and sugar?" Marsha offered with one cup to Amy.
Amy blushed as she accepted it. "My mom always teases my dad and says he likes his coffee the way he likes his women, light and sweet."
