All characters are over 18 years of age
Chapter 1
Maggie Thomas was drunk. Tipsy, really, more than anything. There was an empty bottle of wine on the counter and she was responsible for the whole thing. The stack of papers on the counter were freshly signed, her divorce was official. She looked at her signature, in dark blue ink, on the top page. She had signed multiple times, with each stroke of her pen she won more of her freedom. Finally, she said to herself, it's over.
Maggie's husband, Pete, had left her for one of his dental hygienists. Her lawyer was good, and took everything she could from him, including half-stake in his dental practice. She had moved out, and was settling into a new house. All around her boxes formed stalagmite-like structures. She'd get settled once her sons arrived.
Her sons, Michael and Bradley, were coming from college to help her get settled over the winter holidays. It was another sunny Florida winter, and they were eager for some warm weather as much--she assumed--as they were to help their mom. Michael was a junior and Bradley was a freshman, both living in other states. She missed them terribly, and the divorce has been difficult to handle alone. She was ecstatic to see her boys.
Her boys. More like men, she thought to herself. Both were sandy-haired, handsome men who took after her more than their jerk of a father. At the thought of her ex-husband, she reached for a new bottle of wine and uncorked it. As she drank she fought dark feelings by thinking about her new life, and what it entailed. A new house, a new start. An empty space. She poured a full glass of wine and drank it.
Maggie continued to drink as she unpacked. The house was warm, with the windows letting in the evening breeze as she continued to sip wine. She felt warm, flush, and soon started dancing as she worked. She enjoyed movement, feeling her body move. It was a sore point in her marriage; her husband never noticed her. It turns out he was too busy having sex with twenty-year-olds in his office. She had given him two sons, supported him through dental school and in the early days of his practice. She had stayed fit, for him, for nothing.
Maggie downed another glass of wine. She paused as she dropped a box off in her bedroom. She stood in front of the mirror, examining herself. She hadn't really looked at herself in the mirror since her married went sour, really looking herself over. On a whim, and maybe it was the wine, she slipped off her shorts and shirt, standing in a bra and panties in the mirror. She spun once, then twice, giggling as her balance faltered slightly. She studied herself; she was still fit, trim. Her tits, she mused, had succumbed slightly to gravity but were still full. Her butt, she noted, was still a tight bubble.
She felt warm, but not from the weather. She unhooked her bra and let it fall to the flood, and slipped off her panties. A neat but full bush of light-brown hair burst forth from between her legs, and she lightly touched her soft hair there.
"The boys aren't due in yet," she thought to herself, and laid down on her bed. She spread her legs wide, her pussy already damp with anticipation, and she slid a finger down her stomach while her other hand cupped her breast. It had been a long time, she thought, as her finger slid along her slick labia. "Just one," she said to herself. Her fingers parted the slick, soft folds below and she traced them slowly, her fingers electric against her skin. Her free hand roamed her breasts, she always loved when a man touched them. It had been too long.
Her hand worked in earnest, hitting her clit expertly as it had hundreds of times. She spread her legs wider, her hand moving at a faster pace. She gripped her breast and bucked her hips as her orgasm overtook her. Waves of pleasure crashed over her and she bucked and thrashed on the bed. She stifled a cry but then let it out, there was no one home to hear her. A guttural moan escaped her lips as she let go of herself and thrashed lightly on the bed. Immediately, she heard a voice.
"Mom?" It was Michael, somewhere in the house.
"Shit!" she hissed to herself, darting up off the bed. She had been careless, she knew they were driving in tonight. "Hang on, just changing!" The door to her bedroom was wide open, she hoped they would not come down the hall just yet. She scooped up her panties and slid her t-shirt back on. She went to put on her shorts but looked in the mirror. She didn't need to walk out there braless in front of her sons, but the last thing she wanted was to do was put her bra back on. She quickly dug through a suitcase and found some overall-shorts and slid them on. Better than nothing, she thought. She picked up her wine glass and headed down the hall, her legs still unsteady from her orgasm.
"My boys!" she exclaimed as she entered the living room. Her sons were standing next to their bags, surveying her new house.
"Mom!" they exclaimed, rushing over to meet her. She hugged them both, almost cracking their ribs with how hard she embraced them each. Hugging them so soon after climaxing reminded her of being a young mom, when her boys would burst into her room shortly after she and their father had had sex. She shook her head slightly, and walked into the kitchen and poured herself some wine.
"Let me give you the tour," she said. She led them through the house, explaining her plans for what items would go where. She had them for two weeks, and was determined to put them to work while also spending some quality time with them. She instantly felt better having them in the house.
"Holy shit, is that a hot tub?" Bradley exclaimed, looking into the back yard. There was a hot tub built into the pool, a first for them.
"I wasn't going to hold back," she said.
"You deserve it," he said, giving her a high five. Michael was quiet, looking around the house as they toured. She also noticed him sneaking glances at her braless tits. Even with the overalls she was showing more than usual. Maybe it was her imagination, but Michael always seemed to enjoy her physically, which made her blush. She didn't mind the attention. Sure, he was her son, but a young man staring at your tits was not to be taken for granted.
Maggie found herself flush and feeling, for lack of a better term, extremely horny. It was a mix of wine, having just rubbed one out, and knowing Michael was looking at her tits. She had thought of his gaze often. Maybe because their father was so neglectful, she thought, taking a sip of wine.
"This is a nice place," Michael finally said, his eyes roaming the room and her as well.
"It will be even nicer when we're settled," she said. "I can't thank you boys enough for spending Christmas with me."
