Frank and I had been mates since the day we our mothers left us howling on our first day at school. We shared our lunches, played together, and if any of the school bullies tried to stand over one of us, the bully would have to contend with both of us. We nearly always won.
From Primary School, we went on to the same High School. We got into the same sort of trouble, screwed the same girls behind the school shed, tried to do our homework together and made the same mess of tests and exams.
We were always in and out of each other's houses, and our mums supplied endless streams of sandwiches and soft drinks. In fact, it was as if we were brothers. Our mums would sometimes get together to take us to the zoo and places. Not that this happened often because it cost money, and we were poor.
Our home situations were almost identical. Our mums were single parents who had got pregnant at high school, and now lived in State provided housing and received a sort of government pension. Our houses were in the same street, which was totally made up of such housing, on an estate that was the same all over. It seemed full of poor people struggling to exist. People moved in and then moved out, perhaps to something better, but mostly to something worse.
I've heard myths about how happy poor people are. I can tell you this, mostly they are bloody miserable, and always seem to be fighting and arguing with each other. But not Frank and me, or our mums. We sort of supported each other. I suppose you could say we loved each other, and although I know my mum screwed with a few fellows over the years, and Frank's mum did the same, none of them ever stayed. They just came and went.
Both our mums weren't bad looking in a tired sort of way. If the best bits of both our mums could have been put into one woman, she'd have been a real looker. I mean, my mum has great tits and Frank's mum has really good legs. Things like that. And this brings me to what I really want to tell you about.
Although we'd all know each other for years and years, you sort of stop looking at each other. You just don't notice how people change until something happens and you look at them like you haven't seen them before.
This happened to my mum one summer day. Frank and I were out on the back lawn sunning ourselves a bit. We were both wearing very, very tiny bathing trunks, which I suppose showed off our recently acquired manhood to good effect. My mum was floating about the place in a bikini she's bought at the secondhand charity shop, which did for her what the shorts did for us.
Don't get the idea that because we were in bathing things that we had a pool. We couldn't afford that sort of thing. But it was nice to pretend we had one and were lying beside it like they do in some of those TV stories.
After a while I noticed Frank looking sort of close at my mum, as if he hadn't seen her before. Then I noticed mum staring at him with the same effect. When mum went indoors to get us some drinks he said to me, "Hey Art, I've never noticed before what great tits your mum's got. They are just fantastic.
Now I must admit that like most sons I hadn't noticed this either, so when she came out with the drinks I had a good look, and sure enough, they were big and firm, and you could see a lot of them over the bikini top.
Nothing more was said then, but later, when Frank had gone home, I was a bit startled when mum said in a funny, choking sort of voice, "Frank's grown up to be a big boy, hasn't he?"
I looked across at her, and she still had her bikini on, and I saw a wet patch just where the tops of her legs are and a nice sort of mound starts at the bottom of her belly. I'd been with a few girls, so I knew what this meant.
"My God, she fancies Frank," I thought. Then I could remember how Frank seemed to get horny when he was staring at mum.
I suppose I was amused at the thought of my mum and Frank fancying each other, a young bloke and an old woman. Then I took another look at mum. Apart from the tired look I've already mentioned, mum didn't really look that old. I think she was about thirty-two at the time, and I heard about young guys going for older women, in fact some of the guys at school had boasted about the older women they had fucked.
I gave the matter very little further thought until the next day. I was at Frank's place just hanging around. His mum was out, so we were on our own.
"Hey," said Frank, "I thought your mum looked fantastic yesterday. I hadn't noticed before how sexy she is."
"Fancy her?" I asked bluntly.
"Well, yes," Frank sort of muttered. "Look Art," he went on, "Next time I'm at your place, couldn't you clear off for an hour or two, leaving me there with your mum?"
I wasn't sure about setting mum up like that and said so.
"Come on Art. I'd do the same for you, you know I would."
After more discussion, I finally agreed. "After all, I thought, mum won't do anything she doesn't want to do."
We planned that Frank's try for mum would take place the following day when I knew mum would be sure to be at home. Frank arrived on the dot, and we made a big thing about doing some studying together.
We were working at the kitchen table and mum was moving around doing little jobs, but always keeping Frank in sight. After about half an hour I announced that I would be gone for an hour or maybe more to get some information at the library that we needed. I went, leaving them alone.
I stayed away as long as I could, and when I got home, it was obvious what had happened. Mum was still in the kitchen, and now she was singing away like mad. Frank looked like the cat that had got to the cream. They were two very happy people.
Over the next couple of weeks, a change came over mum. She was always singing, and the tired look started to leave her. At one time she could get very irritable with me, now she couldn't do enough for me, and was always touching me and calling me things like, "My sweet boy."
I saw less of frank, but often when I came home mum would announce, "Frank dropped in while you were out."
As they were so happy, it seemed a shame that they felt they could only be together when I wasn't there. I decided that Frank and I should talk it over, so I went to his place.
Frank was at home, so I opened up to him. "Look, Frank, I don't mind you fucking mum, so I don't see why you need to bother about whether I'm around or not. Tell you what, I'll even have a word with mum about it, if you like."
"Would you?" he asked. "You know, Art, a bloke couldn't have a better mate than you. Any time you want I'll do the same for you."
That was the second time he had told me that, and now it set me thinking. My thoughts became even more profound when Franks mum came into the room. I tried to see her as if it was the first time, and I liked what I saw.
She hasn't got great tits like my mum, but they are small and firm. Her legs are fantastic. Long and slim, but with really great thighs – what I could see of them. Like mum, she had that tired look, but you could certainly say she was still pretty, with really nice dark brown eyes. I felt myself getting horny for her.
"Do you really mean that? You really would let me have a try with your mum?"
"Yeh," he responded, "Any time."
"But she might not fancy me," I said.
"Don't be mad," he laughed. "She's always going on about what a great body you've got for a young bloke."
So, it was arranged along the same lines that I had fixed for him.
I went home and tackled mum.
"Look mum, I know what you and Frank are doing, and you don't have to worry about my being around. I think it's great for you, you seem so happy, and I know it's doing fantastic things for Frank, so any time you want to be with him like that, it's okay with me."
Mum took me in her arms and hugged me. She pulled me close to her, and I thought, "No wonder Frank's so wrapped in her, you could get lost in those tits."
At the appointed time, I arrived at Frank's place. We started some pretend homework on their dining room table. After a while Frank made some excuse and left the house.
Frank's mum had been sitting knitting in an armchair and I didn't know how to open things up. I needn't have worried.
"Do you want a drink?" she asked.
"Yes please," I answered. My stomach was tying itself in knots.
She came back and suggested that I sit in the armchair opposite hers while I had my drink.
As she sat down again, instead of her feet being on the floor, she raised them to the front edge of the chair. In doing this, her skirt fell back and the top of her legs exposed. Her pants must have been of the flimsiest and smallest possible. Only a narrow thread passed under her crotch and seemed to sink into her nicely cleft cunt, and on each side exposing some dark pubic hair.
This vision was just a few feet from me, and I swallowed, unable to speak.
She spoke for me. "Look Art, I know what's going on between Frank and your mum, and I'm very happy for both of them. Since Frank has started fucking your mother, he has got much more relaxed and easier to live with. So it's fine, and we don't have to keep secrets about it."
"I know why you're here too, and why Frank has gone out, so we don't need to beat about the bush on that one either. Do you want to fuck me?"
I managed to croak out a "Yes."
She moved to the couch and seated herself in much the same position as before. "All right," she said, but I must tell you, I have some rather special sexual needs, not only the things I like doing and having done to me, but also how many times they are done. Most of the guys I've had were wimps and couldn't satisfy me so I sent them on their way. You're much younger than anyone I've ever had, but if you think you're man enough I'm prepared to see what you're made of. Are you game?"
I had recovered a little, and despite the threatening nature of her speech, I was able to fairly firmly say, "I'm game."
"Good," said Alicia (her name), "Then come over here."
I went and stood in front of her.
"Take off my pants," she commanded.
I slid her pants down her long shapely legs and waited.
"Kneel in front of me."
I knelt.
She spread her legs wide to expose her cunt fully to me. "Do you like what you see?"
