Back when I was in high school, I held quite a few jobs. One of my most enjoyable was baby-sitting this kid who lived across the way from me. His name was Brandon, and when I first started watching him he was eight or nine. He had three older siblings, the youngest of whom, Theresa, was only a year ahead of me in school. Sometimes I'd spend entire Saturdays over at their house, whether I was working or not. I shouldn't even call it work, even though I was getting paid. I looked at Brandon as the younger brother I never had. I started watching Brandon in my sophomore year of school, and did so up until I graduated and left for the military, after which we lost contact.
OK, enough background, let me get to the actual focus of this story. While I enjoyed spending as much time as I could with Brandon, actually being around my employer was certainly a nice fringe benefit. Brandon's mother, Cheryl, was the first older woman that I'd ever been attracted to. She was a few years older than my mom, had beautiful brown skin, large, luscious breasts and an ass to die for. She was career-driven woman and a single parent, and a great one at that.
It's now been six years, four promotions, nine tattoos, a tour each in both Afghanistan and Iraq, and a bullet wound since I first left home to join the Army, and man, had things in my hometown changed. Most of the people I went to high school with were either dead, in jail, married, divorced, had kids, or any or all of the above. It seemed like the ones who had succeeded had done so outside the state of Delaware. I can't say I don't sympathize, having done the same thing myself.
I was at home for the first time in almost three years on a 60-day convalescent leave after being shot in combat. (I wasn't really injured badly enough to need the convalescent leave, but I had to either take the leave days before the beginning of the next fiscal year, or lose them. So I pulled some strings, called in some favors, and was out of theater within two weeks.) I knew Cheryl and Brandon had moved upstate since I had left home, but I was still hoping to hear from them. Surprisingly enough I did, only a week into my vacation. We immediately made plans to see each other and, since having my own vehicle made me the more flexible party, I drove up to Newark to visit them Friday afternoon at their new place.
Man, was I surprised when I got there. Brandon was seventeen and in his last year of high school. He had grown almost as tall as me, and was actually bigger than I was. Cheryl, meanwhile, hadn't changed a bit; although she was now 46 years old, she was still as attractive and sexy as I remembered her. We sat and ate dinner, with the focus mostly being on my "war stories." After a while, Brandon's dad came to get him, presumably to spend the weekend together. At that point I got my stuff ready to leave, when Cheryl invited me to lunch the next day, "as adults." I had no idea what "as adults" meant, but I did know that it involved just the two of us. I didn't even care though my mom lived a good hour and change south of Cheryl's house; I'd have driven all the way to Philadelphia if it meant a chance to see her one-on-one.
I arrived at Cheryl's place the next day around 3. She had just finished cooking, and whatever it was smelled delicious. We ate and talked for nearly three hours, a lot of which was telling the complete (read: graphic) accounts of the same war stories I'd told the night before. It didn't matter though; as long as I was talking to Cheryl, it didn't matter about what. Until, that is, we moved over to the couch, and the "as adults" part came into play:
"So tell me Michael, what's your love life like?"
I almost choked, she caught me so off guard. I had never expected her to be this direct. "Well, since I've been in the desert, it's been a while, but when I'm on home station, well, it's steady."
"Steady as in one steady person? She must be a lucky lady."
I couldn't help but laugh. "No, I mean steady as in a steady supply of lucky ladies. I tried the committed, monogamous relationship thing once, and I'm in no hurry to try it again." There was a look on her face, of what I couldn't tell; of shock that I was being so open with her, of relief that I was single, or what. "Well? Your turn." I pushed the envelope.
"My what?"
"What's your love life like?"
"My what?"
"OK... that certainly answered that question." In truth I didn't need to ask that; the only times I had ever baby-sat for her, I had always seen her with a briefcase in hand. "I had long surmised you didn't date much, although I had occasionally fantasized you being a lesbian. But that's neither here nor there." The shock value of my comment hit home, as her jaw hit the floor and I doubled over with laughter. "Being in the Army has certainly put an edge on you, Mike."
"To say the least, Miss Cheryl, to say the least."
"Oh come on now, like I said, we're both adults here. You can drop the 'Miss.'" I was glad. Cheryl sounded a lot sexier, and having sex with someone I called 'Miss' didn't quite excite me as much.
It was one thing when I thought the above thought; it was another thing altogether when she said it, with the notable exception being the substitution of a certain four letter word as opposed to 'having sex with.' I had waited all day to hear those words, yet I was sure I hadn't heard right.
"Michael, I remember you as a scared, skinny little freshman when you first moved here. But I always knew you would grow into a handsome young man and that once you did..." She literally threw herself on top of me after those words. Her lips tasted like the stairway to heaven itself. I managed to get an arm free enough to take my glasses off and set them on the coffee table. We kissed like two teenagers, before she got up and racing to the bedroom, shedding clothing as she went. Not to be outdone, I left my own attire in the living room and followed her. She was on her back with her knees raised, hiding her pussy from my direct sight.
People wonder where the term "muff diving" comes from should have seen me when I moved to the foot of her bed. She had her legs spread, her pussy staring me right in the face. So I did what any reasonably thinking person would do (not to say that I was capable of any thought, reasonable or otherwise at the time): I dove face-first into her muff (get it? muff diving?) and licked and sucked with reckless abandon. I soon found myself face to face with the biggest clit I had ever seen, and it was just begging to be sucked. Or maybe the begging was coming from its owner, not that it mattered. I sucked that clit like there was no tomorrow, causing Cheryl to moan, first loudly, then even louder, until she bit down on her lip and started quivering. I knew what that meant, so I put my mouth over her lips and waited patiently. I wasn't disappointed; she began leaking the thick, white nectar that I've come to expect from thick black women. I greedily lapped it all up before coaxing some more out with my tongue.
Cheryl was exhausted; having an earthquake of a climax after going for so long without one will do that to you, I guess. I was at least gentleman enough to ask her if she wanted to rest a few minutes.
