Something inside stirred as Amy watched Tony nervously drop a sugar cube into his steaming hot tea.
"Yes," Tony stammered, "it's my eighteenth birthday."
Amy felt body tense, as she realized that the day she had been preparing for had finally arrived.
She never let her eyes waver as she lifted the teacup to her mouth, slowly pulling it towards her lips.
She watched as his eyes shifted across her body. She could see his pants jump every time his eyes crossed her breasts. How long could she torment him like this?
She leaned forward to put her tea down so he could have a better view.
"Tony, give me you hand," she held her hand out to him.
He looked at her, slowly extending his hand.
His hands were sweaty, but very soft, almost feminine. She ran her fingers between his gently guiding his hand to her breast.
"How does that feel?" she pushed his hand into her shirt, over her nipple.
She watched him swallow the lump in his throat.
"It feels good," Tony closed his eyes. "I've, I've never felt anything like it."
She watched him as he soaked in the ecstasy of touching her. His hands rubbed over her best softly, his fingers brushing against her nipples.
She unbuttoned her blouse, and dropped it to the floor.
"Hold on Tony," she said with a heavy breath as she reached around her back and unsnapped her bra, "this will be better."
She watched as his eyes were filled with her breasts. She could feel his excitement in the air, almost as if he were ready to explode.
She held up the black lace bra, rubbing it gently against his cheek.
"I bet you like this better off of me don't you," she felt his hands reaching out over the table to cup her breasts.
"Yes ma'am, yes I do," she felt him squeeze her breasts tighter and tighter, her nipples pressed between his fingers.
She let the bra fall to the floor and instead ran her fingernails through his scalp, then slowly behind the ears.
"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," she leaned away.
She watched as Tony tried to talk. He was so cute, his perfectly brushed brown hair, his blue eyes. She feigned embarrassment, attempting to cover her breasts so he couldn't see them.
She watched Tony squirming in his chair, not sure what he should do.
"Can you hand me my bra please," she nodded towards the black bra on the floor by his feet.
Tony looked over at her and then down at the bra.
"Please," Tony stammered, "can we keep going?"
Amy shook her head no and held her hand out.
"I'm old enough to be your mother, and you're still a virgin, it just wouldn't be right," she waggled her hand at him, "now give me my bra."
"Is it me? Did I do something wrong?" Tony slowly started reaching towards the bra.
"It's not you," she proper her elbow into her arm, "my arm is getting tired."
Tony finally reached the bra, and sat back up. He slowly handed the bra out to her.
"You don't understand," Tony looked towards his lap, "It's just that I need you so bad."
Amy paused for a moment, then started to put the bra on.
"What you need is someone your own age, someone who can learn with you. I'm old enough to be your mother," Amy hooked the bra.
She looked over at him, his face sullen. Was she too confident or was he falling into her lap? She couldn't decide if now was the time to make her move.
Tony stirred in his chair, obviously trying to get comfortable. His eyes wandered about the room, trying to avoid her.
"Tony," Amy held her hand out and put it under his chin, "you'll see this is for the best."
Tony moved his head away.
"How can this be for the best? I've never wanted anything like I want you," Tony pushed his chair back and looked at her.
"I've wanted you since I was twelve," he continued, "I'd watch you from my bedroom window as you got the mail. I'd be jealous when I saw you bring a man home, please don't take this away from me."
Tony covered his face.
Amy smiled, her plan was working.
"Tony, you don't understand," Amy reached her foot under the table to touch his, "I'm just an infatuation for you, a boyhood dream that can never be fulfilled."
Tony looked up at her.
"I would do anything to be with you," he looked at her pleadingly, "if you wanted to get married, I'd marry you. Anything."