Marciela Weston sat up slowly, swung her long legs over the edge of the bed and rested her feet on the floor. Without even thinking, she lifted her right foot to the edge of the bed, letting her knee drift to the side, spreading her thighs wide open. Her hand moved towards the nightstand and pulled a piece of Kleenex from the box she had placed there for just one purpose. She folded it carefully and reached between her thighs to wipe away the trickle of cum that had begun to flow out of her slightly swollen pussy. She squeezed her vaginal muscles trying to force as much of the sticky fluid out of her body that she could. As she rubbed the thick, puffy folds of flesh, they began to tingle. Her hips instinctively began to move, pushing her sensitive flesh against her fingers. Suddenly she stopped. This is fucking pathetic, she thought.
She got up and walked into the bathroom. A moment of vanity halted her progress and she paused in front of the full-length mirror and took a moment to admire her naked body. Not bad for an old woman of 39, she thought. She tossed her head and watched her long, raven colored curls style themselves over her back and shoulders. She rolled her shoulders, making her large breasts sway gently. In my next life I should be a topless dancer...maybe even a whore. At least I would get fucked more than 30 seconds a week...even get paid for it.
She was in the prime of her life...young enough to still have the tautness of her youth and old enough to show the lusty ripeness of a fully matured woman. She reached up and gently tease one of her dark, thick nipples. These days they were hard all the time, as if begging for some one to suck them. She smiled softly. Her wondrous breasts sagged a little, but in a sexy way. Besides, nothing as big as they were could defy gravity forever. Her old D-sized bras could barely contain them anymore. It seemed that any weight she gained went straight to her tits. But, she still had a slender waist despite the extra pounds and the couple of pounds that had gone south just made her teardrop ass even more to die for.
What a fucking waste. She moved towards the sink and leaned over to toss the tissue into the toilet. She thought about a shower to rid herself of the smell of her husband, Clarence, but that would have to wait. She needed to get started on that big breakfast she had promised her son, Toby and decided a quick washing with a damp washcloth would have to do. It was his first morning home in nearly six years. She smiled as she remembered the young boy she had reluctantly let go off to war. She also wondered what kind of man had returned.
Tobias Weston, smart as a whip, sinfully good looking and with his 6'-4" frame covered in muscle, there wasn't much he couldn't do on or off the playing field. He had just discovered girls and had suddenly realized his mom wasn't just one of the guys. When they were alone his eyes never left her, hoping for a peek or two at some part of her normally covered body that might "accidentally" come into view. Yes, she had teased him. She loved the attention...that look in his eyes when she sauntered into the room with just a threadbare A-shirt and thong panties covering her naked body. She could feel his eyes riveted to her swaying breasts...she would hear him gasp softly as she bent over to pick one thing or another off the floor.
Toby had come home yesterday. It was nearly dark when he arrived. His father showed the same interest at his homecoming that he would have displayed on his son's return from a trip to the grocery store. It didn't seem to bother Toby. It was if he had expected it from the man whose last name he bore. There was coldness in his eyes that she had never seen before as he looked at his father. It sent a shiver down her back for a moment but she quickly pushed it out of her mind. Her son was back...that's all that mattered.
Clarence would usually leave early on Saturday mornings. He would meet his buddies on the pretense of fishing or hunting, though he never managed to bring the bounty home; unless, you counted the beer-fish swimming around inside his fat belly. This morning was not different...So much for spending some time with your son.
As she headed toward the kitchen, she slipped her robe over her naked body and tied the belt loosely around her waist. It was still dark outside and the birds were just beginning to begin their noisy chatter. She turned on the kitchen light and headed straight towards the coffee maker. She was hoping her husband had left enough for her to have a cup but there was hardly enough to wet the bottom of her mug. The son of a bitch had filled his thermos completely and was too fucking lazy to make another pot for her and Toby. Well, he had gotten his coffee and his "Saturday nookie," as he called it. She laughed sadly at the emptiness of her life for a moment then swung open the top of Mr. Coffee and pulled out the soggy filter and grounds. She balled them up and tossed them into the trash.
She wondered why the hell she stayed with the fat bastard. It certainly wasn't for the 30 second fuck he gave her once a week. Her thoughts distracted her and she lost count of the number of scoops. Oh well. She added one more to be sure she had enough. It would probably curl her hair, but who the fuck cared. She pushed the compartment closed, poured in the water and waited for the little gurgling sounds to begin. Didn't you have to hear the thing begin to work before you could stop staring at it? Wasn't that a rule? She sat at the kitchen table and stared out the picture window into the back yard. The sun was finally beginning to peek over the horizon and the birds had begun their chatter...time to face reality.
Regretfully, she had been married for 23 years to a man who had only tied the knot to make an honest woman out of her. Clarence truly believed she had been a naïve, sixteen-year-old girl in heat...easy pickings for her fathers "friend." She laughed when she remembered how he had assured and reassured her that she couldn't get pregnant the first time, could she? Toby was born exactly eight months after that day. Clarence was either too stupid or too arrogant to connect the dots. If he did know the truth, he never said a word. No one would ever know the real truth, not even Toby's father.
Toby was the anchor that kept her rooted to this miserable place; she loved him as much as any mother could love her son. And Toby loved his mom. But somehow she knew that in the past six years something had changed. She could feel it...the way he looked at her...the tone of his voice. Things would work themselves out. Right now, her primary focus in life was that damn cup of coffee...the second would be a breakfast of country ham, eggs, grits and biscuits.
At last, she thought, as she heard the final gurgles of the coffee maker. She got up quickly and filled her cup, sipping it carefully along with a mouth full of air to keep the steaming hot coffee from burning her mouth. How about breakfast in bed, she thought. She would treat her returning hero like a king...at least for a day. She fixed another hot cup of coffee, picked up her own and walked towards Toby's room. As she passed the bathroom door, she saw him standing in front of the mirror shaving, a towel wrapped around his waist. "Good morning, Baby," she chirped, a bit surprised he was up so early. He looked at her in the mirror and smiled.
"I sure hope one of those is for me."
