We did not discuss the MILF List for some time. I called it that in my mind, a list of mother's we could fuck. For a month, I stalled and avoided. The other guys made it plain, however, they were on board. Brent, whose mother was Italian and had aged very well, invited me over to his house and then split so when I arrived, I was alone in the house with her. As always, she offered me everything to eat or drink and I finally asked for water. When she went to get water from the tap, the thing malfunctioned and water sprayed all over her. There I was in the kitchen with Mrs. Rossini being sprayed with water till her white tee shirt was plastered to her huge tits and the aureoles were clearly visible. I helped fix the leak and clean up the mess, staring all the time at her tits. She never seemed to notice and I lost my nerve. But she never covered up.
Sammy invited me over when he knew his mother was going to be in his shower, then hid in the basement. I came into the empty house and poked my head into the bathroom and saw her through the steamy glass. She shrieked and I freaked. She came out in a towel and I apologized. She came over and hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. In a towel! And all I did was stutter, my hands jammed in my pockets to hide my wood. My cock was so hard! That was the when it became real that I was going to do this. Till then, I was just thinking about it, like considering becoming an astronaut. It sounds cool but never really makes it onto your schedule. Standing there with a hard cock while Mrs. Honeywell kissed me on the cheek changed my way of thinking. Later, I wondered what would have happened if I had just pulled the towel loose.
Landon's mother called me and asked me to come over to help her pack some things for Landon who had left town for an interview but had been invited to spend a week with her husband's business associate boating on the great lakes. Rather than just buying all new stuff, Landon insisted she FEDX some stuff to him and suggested she ask me to come over and help her figure out what he wanted. Mrs. Clark was a gorgeous woman with sandy brown hair. Her hips had matured without losing form. She had Landon before she got married and never told her family who the father was. She married well but her family did not like her husband. He was a player and everyone knew it. She ignored it but lived with the whispers. Even my mom had mentioned the fact that Kyla Clark was in a very sad situation. If my mom knew about it, everyone knew about it.
I got to their front door about nine in the morning that Thursday. I knew this was Landon's version of a setup. I was nervous but screwed myself to the sticking place, as it were. Mrs. Clark answered the door in an elegant house coat.
"Thank you for coming over, Sonny. I do not know what got into Landon. He insisted that I send these things and that I would not get it right. He must really like the interview he had because he really seems to want to impress them. I hope you weren't doing anything this morning. Thank you for helping me." I stood at the door staring at her cleavage revealed by the loose amber robe. I thought about saying something but my mind was working and my eyes were fixed on the skin visible above her breasts which filled the robe so alluringly. Mrs. Clark was about five six or seven, shorter than me by a little. She had a narrow waist and emerald green eyes. Her curly brown hair tumbled down below her shoulders. Usually she had it tied up when I came over with Landon but not this morning.
But what my mind focused on, besides the fact that she was blocking the door and not moving to let me in, was that she was rattling, talking without letting me get a word in edgewise. I mentally fumbled for the meaning and then I found it; Mrs. Clark was nervous about something. Ironically, the first thing I thought was that the Hispanic bodybuilder was hiding in her closet waiting to come out and pound me if I tried anything. But she continued to rattle, talking about Landon being gone, and her being lonely with Mr. Clark off in Chicago for three weeks running without coming home and not likely to be home any time soon. Her hands fluttered, touching the lapels of her robe, flicking errant strands of hair from her eyes, waving at something invisible I could not see. By the time we got into Landon's room, standing beside his bed, I realized she was nervous because of me and the more the certainty of that grew in me, the calmer I became. She was still talking a blue streak.
We putzed around Landon's room, gathering whatever it was he wanted till we had a bag full, ready to be shipped. She asked me to help her get it boxed up because the FEDX driver would be there soon. We had just finished when doorbell rang and the pickup was done.
"I don't know how I can ever thank you." She said, almost panting after the door closed.
"You could fix me a cup of tea." I said. This passed for inspiration. The robe hid her body but I had a good imagination. I was resolved to fuck her or get slapped really, really hard. Maybe I would just try to kiss her a little and see what happened. The knee in the crotch did not sound appealing.
Mrs. Clark stared at me for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, of course." I followed her into the kitchen. She was so nervous she spilled water and nearly dropped the tea kettle when she missed the stove, banging the kettle against the stove front. I thought she would become hysterical. She set it down and turned on the heat and bowed her head, panting. I moved over behind her and placed my hands on her waist.
"Mrs. Clark, come sit down. Let me rub your neck and shoulders and see if you can relax."
Mrs. Clark turned in my hands. I lifted them and then replaced them on her waist when she was turned. She laid her hands on my shoulders and smiled at me, her eyes seemed clouded and bleak. "That sounds wonderful." She let me guide her by the elbow to the kitchen table. I pulled out a chair, imagining her on her back being pounded by the pool guy or whoever. I started to get hard. She sat down and stared right at my twitching crotch.