This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination
. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of 18. No animals were harmed in the writing of this story.
This is a sweet but sexy twist on the old "Best Friends Mom" trope. It takes place over a long weekend. I hope you enjoy it.
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I met fraternal twins, Jeff and Darlene, in my first year at university. Jeff and I ended up in many of the same classes, and we became friends. The twins had the advantage of living with their parents locally, while I was a half day's drive from home. Jeff was an easygoing, fun guy and I enjoyed hanging out with him. Darlene, on the other hand, was the original unobtainable hot chick. She made it totally clear that she DID NOT date her brother's friends when I hadn't even shown an interest. Eventually, Darlene figured out that I wasn't interested and we became something close to friends.
After a few months, I was invited to their parent's home for dinner. Tired of microwave food, I happily accepted. Jeff's parents were Thomas and Corine Eastman. Mr. Eastman was a medically retired firefighter. Mrs. Eastman was a caring mother and wife, and... a complete fox. Mrs. Eastman was uncommonly beautiful. She had lovely deep red hair that I yearned to bury my hands in. She had lovely blue eyes and an incredible body. She was curvy and busty and very womanly. Her family had been from Georgia, and she had an enchanting southern belle accent. After a few months, she started telling me to call her Mama. Mr. Eastman was dead against it and corrected me whenever I called her Mama, then she would correct him right after, with a bright cheery smile and a wink.
"All the kid's neighborhood friends called me Mama." She would argue.
Mr. Eastman would fire back with, "Yes, but Jake isn't a kid, he's a grown man."
"Yeah, but he and Jeff are great friends. He's like our bonus kid. But one we didn't have to feed, clothe or raise. He's polite, does the odd chore if I ask, and cleans up after himself. A total win!"
Over time she just wore the old man down until he just accepted that he wasn't going to get his way. So as not to be entirely disrespectful, I did make sure I called him Mr. Eastman. It was enough and over the year he and I got to be friends. I enjoyed his firefighting stories of which he had many. I was invited often for dinners, weekends, and trips out on their boat. For the sake of transparency, I have
always
been terribly attracted to older women. When Mama would come out in an attractive outfit or a bathing suit when we were out on the boat or in their pool, it was all I could do to not stare like an idiot. Mr. Eastman caught me doing so a couple of times and dealt with it, with a surreptitious slap to the back of my head. "Act like a gentleman," he said both times. "A gentleman doesn't stare."
Life would continue like this through our freshman and sophomore years, and I developed a rather serious crush on Mama. She always featured prominently in my masturbatory fantasies. At the end of my sophomore year, I still hadn't picked a major. I had no idea what I wanted to do in life. After talking with my folks and the Eastmans, I decided college maybe wasn't for me. I decided to enlist in the Navy and see some of the world, before choosing a career. On Mr. Eastman's recommendation, I became a Damage Controlman. A sort of maritime firefighter and shipboard structural repair type. I'd always liked working with my hands and being physical so this seemed a good fit. I served six years, was honorably discharged, and went to the firefighter academy in my hometown. My parents and Mr. and Mrs. Eastman attended my graduation and were very proud. Mr. Eastman especially. I may not have been his blood son, but I was following in his footsteps and that made him happy.
Years went by and I ended up getting a job at a fire station not that far from the Eastman's. My parents were disappointed that I moved away, but I liked coastal living. I met a girl, fell in love, and got married. I remained close with the Eastmans, dropping in occasionally but mostly staying in contact through social media. Darlene finished college and moved away for her job. She met a good guy, got married, and started a family. Jeff also graduated and surprised everyone by joining the Army and becoming an officer. I was very proud of Jeff. I'd worked with both good and bad officers in the Navy, and knew Jeff would be a great one.
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A few years later, shortly after my divorce, I got a call from Darlene. It occurred to me I hadn't heard from any of the Eastmans in quite a while. Darlene said, "Jake, things have been crazy with my parents and I need a favor after I tell you about it."
I said, "Anything, you need. You know I love your folks." With her parents in their mid-50s, I expected some sort of medical issue. I was wrong.
She told me that her dad had started sort of "downsizing" about six months ago. He sold the boat, the motorcycle, his project muscle car, his antique guns, and some other collectibles. At the time, he said that he just didn't use them enough to justify the space or the cost of keeping them. Mama was amazed at the change in him, as she'd suggested that very thing many times. Then one day, about three months ago, he grabbed his golf clubs and left to meet his friends and never came home. The next day, with Mama, worried sick, a courier from their attorney served her with divorce papers. With the papers was a handwritten letter from Mr. Eastman, explaining that he had secretly been a homosexual his whole life and had fallen in love with a man. He deeply regretted hurting her and his children but that this was a part of himself that he needed to finally embrace if he was to be happy in life. As a way to try to make amends, the divorce favored Mama. She got the house, her car, and seventy percent of all assets.
To say that I was floored doesn't begin to cover it. "Darlene, how can I help?"
"Dad has sent over a trailer and a check to cover the cost of hiring someone to box up his things and load the trailer. He just doesn't want to face Mama. Jake, neither Jeff nor I, can break away right now. I'm ten weeks pregnant, and my last pregnancy was rough. Jeff is deployed. Would you go, help Mama?"
"I'd be happy to. I'm so sorry Darlene. I can't imagine what she's going through. I'll make work arrangements and be there tomorrow."
---------------------------------------------------
-Thursday afternoon.
When I showed up at her door, Mama nearly flung herself through the door to embrace me. "Somehow, I knew it would be you." She pulled back and gave me a big smile that had sadness behind it. I gave her a smile of my own. Mama had changed quite a bit since I'd seen her last. She looked tired. She was making no effort at keeping up her appearance. She wore no makeup and her hair was a mess. She wore baggy shorts and an old t-shirt.
"Of course, who else but your bonus kid?" I replied. She laughed and it was a real laugh and her smile seemed brighter. She turned and led me into the house.
We talked for a long time that afternoon. She sure needed to. Then we got up, shook off the melancholy, and started planning the job. It was tough on her. She'd already brought boxes into the house and started packing, but her effort had been half-hearted at best. We moved boxes to every room and quite a lot of the garage. I aired up the tires on the old hand truck. We got everything ready for the next day's effort. We ate a supper of leftovers and drank a bottle of wine. Afterward, it was obvious that she was both physically and mentally drained, so with a kiss on her cheek, I sent her to bed. With a smile and glistening eyes, she nodded and went.
