It was after school on Friday when we pulled into the Walmart parking lot. It was me, Marco Annunziata, Joe Fisher, and Marty Delvin piling out of Joe's Jeep as we strode into the supermarket. It was a chilly afternoon in November, and the four of us were grabbing some snacks for a little get-together at Fred Danbury's. His older brother Michael was going to score us some top-notch booze, on the condition that we buy the rest of the food. Fred had given us a long list of things to buy, while he would pay for the enormous amount of delivered pizza from his own funds.
The four of us went from aisle to aisle with 2 shopping carts, loading them with chips, snack cakes, and other party foods. All the while, we were joking about all of the shenanigans we were going to get into and all the girls that we would potentially score with. It was hard to imagine that we would all be graduating in about 6 months, going to different colleges, and going to new parties with new friends.
The store was livelier than usual; it was the week before Thanksgiving, and everyone was trying to buy all of their meal ingredients before the stores ran out. We were actually getting through our list quickly, seeing as the things we were buying weren't typical of a Thanksgiving dinner. We turned into the next aisle, intent on getting some cake icing and chocolate syrup -- Marco said that it was going to be for use on females, not food -- for the party. It was there that I spotted a familiar face. My mind went blank with shock as my eyes sighted a woman that I was acquainted with.
She was dressed in a hooded sweater and some jeans, pushing a loaded shopping cart. Though pretty, her face wasn't exceptional enough to turn heads, though her large bosom and backside were. She had long strawberry blonde locks that had streaks of gray, and large vibrant eyes. It didn't take her too long to notice my presence as well. I took a breath and tried to play it cool, noting that my friends hadn't registered my anxiety.
"Hey, Mrs. Holt," I greeted, trying my best to keep my voice casual.
"Oh, hey, Mark!" Mrs. Holt said brightly. "Hello, boys. You sure are doing some serious shopping."
"Trust me," Joe said. "Everyone in this store is."
"Too true," Mrs. Holt agreed. She eyed the two carts full of junk food. "That's a heck of a Thanksgiving dinner you're planning there."
"Oh, this?" Joe said proudly. "We're having a little get-together. Nothing special."
"Well, you boys have fun. Happy Thanksgiving!"
Mrs. Holt pushed her cart onwards towards the other end of the aisle. The four of us continued on our way, and, true to form, as soon as Mrs. Holt was safely out of earshot, my friends started making crude jokes. I did my best to just play along and keep acting natural.
"Damn, that lady is a lobster!" Marty said. "All that meat in the tail!"
"Her face is meh," Marco said. "But she had a nice rack."
"She lives in my neighborhood," I said. "I can see that booty from several blocks away."
"I need to move to your neighborhood," Joe said. "It was all I could do to keep my eyes off of those titties."
"Come on," Marco said. "She's a 7 at best."
The guys and I laughed as we continued the rest of our shopping trip. We just had to get some frozen foods and then go check out. Unbeknownst to my friends, I was quite intimate with the woman we had just encountered; we were more than just neighbors, we were lovers. I was surprised to hear my friends expressed an admiration for her chest and butt, seeing as I had seen them both devoid of clothing. Actually, I had done a lot more than simply seeing them.
What had started out a few months ago as a simple series of dinners turned into a carnal affair between an 18-year-old with a father who was barely home and a divorced woman of 55 who lived on her own. In public, Annette Holt was a kindly older woman who was a friendly neighborhood acquaintance. But when we were safely concealed in the privacy of her home, she was my Mama Bear.
After a grueling checkout at Walmart, we loaded up our groceries and headed to the Danbury residence. A few hours later, the driveway and lawn were full of cars, and the house was full of high schoolers. The music played loud, the fireplaces were roaring, the liquor flowed like tap water, and the snacks were devoured. The next morning, I woke up in one of the guest rooms, snuggled next to Wendy McNell. After some breakfast, the four of us helped Fred clean up the house before going our separate ways.
On the way home, I heard my phone ring with a text notification. Since I was driving on icy roads, I decided not to read it until I got home. Only when my car was parked in the driveway, and I was safe inside my house did I open my phone. My eyes bulged at the contents of the message and, despite having banged Wendy McNell last night, my dick went rigid with new life. The name at the top of the text conversation simply said Mama Bear.
"My dear, Cub. It was so good to see you yesterday at the store. I hope you had fun last night. I hope that when you were playing around with the cuties at your party that you were thinking about me. After I unloaded my groceries, I played with myself until I fell asleep.
I missed having your mouth on my tits. I missed having your teenage dick inside of my hairy pussy. It's hard to sleep without first having your wonderful body on top of mine. When I make my famous Thanksgiving gravy, I'm going to pretend that it's your cum. I'll see you soon."
My whole body seemed to burn while I stood in the foyer of my home with my phone in my hand. If I could, I would have hopped back into my car, driven the short distance to her house, and ravaged her madly. However, to make sure that our relationship didn't attract any unwanted attention, we agreed to schedule our liaisons for certain days.
Her son David was coming to visit with his girlfriend. I was glad for her because she barely got to see him, but irritated because he had decided to do so at the last minute. Before he had called on Wednesday, I was planning on spending the entirety of Thanksgiving break at her house. The plan had been quite simple: Mrs. Holt was going to stuff a turkey, and then I was going to stuff her. Instead, I'd be spending the holiday alone with a catered dinner for one.
I went up to my room, flopped my body onto my bed, and drafted a response to Mrs. Holt's message. It was a mixture of dictated thoughts and typed desires, but the words seemed to flow out of me. A few minutes later, I hit the send button on the lewd reply.
"My dear sweet Mama Bear. I missed you, too. You're right, I did get to plow some tasty little piece of ass at that party, but she was nothing compared to you. Just thinking about you during sex made me fuck her so hard that she wet the bed. Just being away from you is making me crazy.
The next time I see you, I'm going to rip off my clothes and chase you around the house naked. I'm going to play with those huge-ass titties of yours and suck on your nipples like they're the cure for cancer. I'm going to bend you over and put my dick right where it belongs: inside that wet, furry slit between your legs. You had better enjoy your time with your son because as soon as he's gone, I'm going to ravage my Mama Bear good and proper. Until then, I'm going jerk myself while thinking about your big ass."
I then dropped my pants and made good on the last sentence of my message.
The week of Thanksgiving seemed to drag on forever. I did my best to keep myself occupied during the break since my dad was out of town on business. I played on my Xbox, had some of my friends over for poker, and even caught up on some reading, but it was all to distract myself from not being with my Mama Bear. As much as I wanted to call her or text her, I know that speaking to her would only drive me more insane. I figured that I would simply wait go over on the Sunday after Thanksgiving to be with her.
In the meantime, BBW, MILF, and Mature-themed porn would help with my urges. When I was alone and my urges got to me, I'd turn to my trusty laptop. I masturbated so much that I barely remembered Thanksgiving and Black Friday.
In order to make sure that I had enough semen to give my Mama Bear, I refrained from masturbating on Saturday. I had sent another text to Mrs. Holt, asking her to confirm that I would be free to come over. She said that her son was going to be leaving around two o'clock the next day, and that she would text me the minute his car was out of her driveway.
Sunday was torture for me; I paced around my house like a man on house arrest, my dick half-hard within my pajama pants. I thought I was going to go crazy waiting for two o'clock. Thankfully, a few minutes after 2, a text came on my phone.
"Get over here now. Please hurry."
I could have wept tears of joy from reading those words. Still wearing my t-shirt and pajama pants, I hastily grabbed a jacket, put on some shoes, and jumped into my car. My heart thumped so hard within my chest that I thought it was liable to burst out of me. Though my lover lived less than 10 minutes from my house, I fought the urge to floor it on the way over. I carefully parked my car in her driveway and ran to the front door.
Using my key, I opened the door and went into the house. After locking and closing the door behind me, I hastily searched for the owner of the house. I found her pacing nervously in the living room. Her face lit up when she saw me.
"Oh! I'm so glad you're here!" Mrs. Holt cried.
"Me, too!"
