Getting over It

My parents divorced about two years ago, and, in keeping with the settlement, I spent several weekends at my dad's house. Nobody said, but I suspect they got divorced over his philandering, because every time I spent a weekend there, he had another girlfriend either visiting or already moved in. All of them were younger than him, several close to my age, in fact.

He was a workaholic investment banker, and not afraid of flaunting his wealth. One of his indulgences was a red Ferrari. With New York's traffic and parking problems, he rarely drove it, though, so one time I asked him why he bought it.

"Its doors," he replied with a smirk.

To say the response floored me would be like saying Las Vegas has a few little lights. "Doors, seriously? Their hinges, or what?"

He broke out in a grin. "When you open them, they suck in hot women."

We laughed about it, but fuck if it wasn't true. Hotties, by the looks of it, are drawn to blatant displays of wealth like bears to honey. One night he took me with him to an upscale bar, and left his keys on the counter, the Ferrari badge prominently displayed. Damn if a procession of hotties didn't line up to have a dance with him. Happy with the leftovers, I got to dance with more and hotter girls than in my entire high school career. Maybe they thought I was a way to get to him, or--gasp--it was my car, who knows? Did I complain? Is the Pope protestant?

At first I was intimidated. In high school, I tended to avoid the "in" crowd, not being a jock, and not inclined to flaunt the money my dad made. If it wasn't for mercy sex on prom night, I might still have been a virgin.

One weekend I went to visit my dad, he had a total knockout with him. She didn't live there (yet) but you could have fooled me. But dad did the whole parent thing that first weekend: we went to the beach, he grilled steaks on the swimming pool patio, and took me to a ball game, the whole nine yards. So I never really saw the girl, who was maybe mid-twenties. I did hear her that Saturday night in his bed, though. She was a loud one--a screamer. A screamer with high endurance. I wondered if my dad had availed himself of blue enhancement pills, because they went at it, again and again and again.

By the time I headed back to Mom Sunday afternoon (Dad had bought me a classic Alfa Spider, which I loved driving) the girl had left, and I asked my dad about her. He confessed that she was a Ferrari door victim, the one my mom divorced him over, in fact, but he told me she wasn't the only one to warm his bed, and he was going to break up with her that week.

"Why?" I asked. "Last night it sounded like everything was in working order."

He laughed. "Yeah, I'm not surprised you heard. She can be loud. But she's becoming a little clingy. When you're in my position you never know if a woman is into you for you or for your checkbook."

"I can see that," I agreed, "So what do you do?"

"Screw 'em till I can see which way the wind blows."

I laughed. "Great solution to a first world problem."

He shrugged. "Beats the alternative."

--

Mom, in the meantime, decided not to mope over being traded in for a younger model, and had jumped into the dating pool with a vengeance. Her approach, though, was different. She, her sister and a few coworkers went "fishing" on their Friday evening girls' nights out. Saturday and Sunday nights were for 'cleaning and filleting' the catches.

I liked to think I was old enough to know the lay of the land, and I judged neither parent. However, with her change into fishing mode, my mother unlocked my hormones in a big way. She had a collection of party dresses that never failed to get Little Gunnar's attention. She was a dirty blond with streaked highlights in her hair, green eyes, and a body other women would die for: 5-7, a 38C rack (detective work in the laundry hamper), narrow waist and a generous wide ass that screamed, "Fuck me!"--a message she did nothing to mute.

So apparently, mom was determined to find men to replace Dad and answer that call.

--

As I drove home from my dad, I wondered how Mom made out that weekend. Because she knew I'd be away, she'd arranged for a fish she'd caught a few weeks earlier to spend one or both nights in her bed. Would he be my future stepdad? She hadn't introduced me, said she hadn't decided yet if he'd make the cut.

Thinking about a potential stepdad made me think of a potential stepmom. How interesting, I thought. I had seen a few potential stepmoms, but only in passing, but I couldn't help thinking I would much rather have my hot real mother, twenty years older, than a chick close to my age. Hmm... was either even a doable proposition? How would I find out? Food for dreamy thought and late night hand exercises.

--

When I got home, it was close to dinnertime. Mom had a casserole dish that would be used for several nights' meals. As usual, it smelled delicious. I poured her a glass of wine and left the bottle on the table. After her divorce my mom had grown much fonder of her wine--maybe it was a taste developed on their Friday night escapades, or maybe it was her antidote for feelings of inadequacy. Either way, she'd renewed her Costco membership just for their wine selection. Their broiler chicken, however nice and cheap, wasn't reason enough.

I set the table, and when the oven beeped, I brought the dish to the table. I dished up while my mom inflicted some pain on her wine glass.

"So, mom," I said once we started digging in, "how was Dick?"

"Fred, son, Fred." She knew I called all her boyfriends Dick, and just laughed at my teen humor.

"Fred, sorry, how was he?"

She grimaced. "He's a nice enough guy, but for some reason the spark I'd hoped for just wasn't there."

I couldn't help thinking about the sparks flying the previous night at my dad's place. The truth suddenly hit me: Fred and Candy (or whatever her name was, I couldn't remember) both were getting dumped this week--one with sparks and the other without.

"What? Why are you shaking your head?" mom asked.

Oops. My thoughts must have manifested in my neck muscles. "I was just thinking about you, mom." Lying through my teeth, I put my hand on hers. "I know you had hopes that something would come from this weekend. I love you so much (that was not a lie) and I really want to see you happy."

She squeezed my hand. "Thanks, Gunnar. You've been my anchor through the whole ordeal."

I nodded and returned the hand squeeze. "I will always be here for you."

After a few mouthfuls in silence I spoke up again. "I'm graduating in a few months so I guess I'm able to pass for a real adult, and I just want to tell you I think you are beautiful. Any man who gets you will be scoring a home run. You are smart, and if I may say so, sexy as fuck."

Her eyes flew open at the last word. "Gunnar! Don't you ever use language like that in my house!"

Rather than apologize, I laughed. "Right. Like you and Caroline never use that word. Both as an expression and a verb."

The truth of my words hit her. For a moment, her face showed shock, but then her embarrassed laughter won out. "You're right. And you are an adult now. Oh, and thank you for the compliment, so eloquently expressed." She held out her wine glass.

I clinked with my ginger ale. "To the sexiest mom in the city."

She blushed and took a sip. "You really think so? Better than your dad's bimbo hotties?"

"Stand up," I said.

With a frown, she stood.

I stood and ran my hand down her back and over her ass in a few circles. Man, it felt even better than it looked--that perfect blend of soft and firm. "Turn around."

Obediently, she turned.

I swept my eyes up and down her body, and shook my head. "Not even close." I gestured for her to take her seat again, and held out my soda for another toast.

I continued. "Of course, I would need to see you in that blue bikini again to confirm, but from what I can see you are beyond hot. Sexy as..." We both laughed as she was about to complete the sentence before catching herself.

Our bantering lifted her mood.

"Mom, can I take you out to dinner Saturday night?" I knew if Fred bit the dust, she'd have Saturday night open. Even if she clicked with a guy on her next Friday night out, the odds were against him lining her up for the very next night, and I wanted to spare her the temptation to go out with Fred simply to not sit at home alone.

"You mean like a date?"

"Exactly. I mean, if I'm finally old enough to say fuck in this house, I'm old enough to take the sexiest woman in the county out for a date, no?"

With a laugh, she said, "County now, huh? Charmer. Yeah, that'll be great. Maybe, now that you're old enough, I can show you a few tips on how to treat a lady right."

"I would really welcome that. There is one condition, though."

"Oh yeah?"

"I want you to buy yourself a new LBD for Friday night, and then wear it Saturday night, too. When you go out I want you to look hot as..."

With a tilted head, she took another sip of her wine and regarded me for a new moments. "OK, but don't go getting any ideas. It will just be a simple mother-son date."

I held my hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. "Of course. Just a normal first date."

"You got a deal."

I held out my glass to her. "To a first date with the hottest woman in town."

"You said the county last time," she giggled.

"I also said I need an evaluation with the bikini before pronouncing a final judgment."

--

Wednesday my mother arrived later than usual, with several shopping bags.

"Fashion show!" I cried. Knowing she'd gone shopping after work, I had her wine on the coffee table next to my ginger ale.

Blushing, she said, "No, buster, you'll need to wait until Friday night to see it."

"Uh uh," I said, shaking my head. "If I don't like it, you won't have time to return and exchange it."

The thought that I might not like her outfit clearly had not crossed her mind. That she cared whether or not I liked it struck us both for the first time. Without either realizing it, something in our home had shifted--all because I said fuck. Once. My opinion on an adult topic mattered to her for the first time; I was no longer just Junior, irrelevant.

"Okay," she said, "but let's eat first."

--

After dinner, I cleaned up while she took her purchases up to the bedroom. Just when I finished stacking the dishwasher, she called.

I bounded the steps two at a time and arrived seconds later, overdoing my panting.

She laughed, and dropped the towel she'd been holding up to hide behind. The slinky black fabric clung to her body, highlighting every delicious curve. It took my breath away. My mouth dropped open and Little Gunnar joined the admiration society.

Her laugh tinkled in the room when she saw my reaction. "That nice, huh?"

I twirled my finger vertically to make her turn around. Simply stunning. "I can't believe this sexy woman is going to be my date Saturday night." I shook my head.

A shy smile and blush overcame my hot mother. "I'm flattered. I'll be proud to escort my handsome young hunk."

"What else did you buy?"

"I can't show you!"

"Whyever not?"

"It's underwear. I can't show my underwear to my son!"

"Is it any tinier than your yellow bikini?"

She giggled and paused. "Well," she said hesitantly, "No. But it's different."

"Different how?"

"It's, it's... underwear. It's just different."

"No, it isn't. Come on, you spent the money buying it for our date--the least you can do is let me see what'll be under that hot dress of yours."

"OK, shoo. Let me change."

"Wait, you don't have it on already?"

A blush told me my shot in the dark hit the mark. I got up and stepped behind her. "Here, let me unzip you."

"But, but, you're my son!"

"And you're the hottest mother in the state. Hot as fuck. Take it off, lemme see."

She exhaled and stepped out of the dress, taking care to lay it on the bed. Then she turned around like a shy girl stepping into a spotlight for the first time.

I whistled. "Holy shit! Mom, I knew you were sexy but this is a whole nother level. I'm going to need extra strength underwear to keep my admiration contained."

We both burst out laughing, which gave me time to keep looking. Her black panties were tiny, and close to transparent, clearly showing her trimmed bush. The built-up bra had a low shelf, leaving most of her breasts elevated and exposed. What a wet dream!

"Wow. Just wow," I exhaled. "Sexy as fuck."

She looked at my tenting shorts and giggled. "I can see. Maybe you need to go take care of that."

"You're right," I replied. "It'll take me several tries. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't come in unless you want a ringside seat."

--

I couldn't find a reservation at my mom's favorite restaurant for Saturday. Welcome to the world of timely reservations--another lesson in New York adulthood. They did have an opening for Friday night, though. When I mentioned my dilemma, my mother didn't hesitate. "Take it. I can always go out with the girls next week."

Actions speak louder than words, they say, and that told me Mom's was more excited at going on a date with me than she let on. Little Gunnar smirked in satisfaction, but paid in the shower, more than once.

The time couldn't pass fast enough 'til Friday evening. On Thursday I had an interesting phone call with my dad. The weekend following this coming one was his turn to take care of his poor old son, but his company had an investing conference in London. Nevertheless, I was still welcome to hang at his place, because he had a new live-in gold digger, er, girlfriend, Halley, and she would take care of me. He also belonged to a yacht club and they had their annual pre-summer party out in the Hamptons somewhere. I was welcome to take his place and, using his Ferrari, accompany Halley, his latest. Knowing his high standard for hotties, it sounded like a no-brainer, something else to look forward to. The only question in my mind was how old she was. But that's another story. (Keep looking, it may come.)

Anyway, Friday eventually crawled around. I couldn't wait. Evidently, Mom felt the same, because we both arrived home earlier than usual. It made me feel good to see she also saw the date as something worth looking forward to.

It took me half an hour to get ready. My dad had given me his credit card number to go clothes shopping, so as not to embarrass him when I accompanied his floozy. So I sported what I called a semi-suit: matching jacket and pants, but with an open-necked button-down white shirt and stylish shoes. Hopefully I'd be up to the standard I'd seen during mom's fashion show.

Even though I'd seen her then, she still blew me away when she came down the stairs. It was like an old Hollywood movie, where the princess makes the grand entrance. She glanced at my crotch and smiled when she saw my involuntary salute, which registered enough to make her nipples strain against her bra and dress.

I drove in her car--my little roadster simply would not do for a hot date with this sizzling piece of ass on my arm. Once we got into the garage, I opened the passenger door, and she gave me the briefest glance up her thighs, but not enough to catch her black panties.

The restaurant and dance club were part of an entertainment complex with other eateries, stores, skating rink, a Dave and Busters, and other forms of entertainment. I parked in a corner of the parking structure to give us some privacy.

Mom, not stupid, saw through my seemingly random choice of parking and wore a sly smile. When I opened her door, she rewarded me with a better glimpse up her dress and a fleeting glance at the black thong she had modeled for me. When I looked up into her eyes again, she wore a big smile, but said nothing, just holding out her hand.

The restaurant we chose was one of those Brazilian meat lovers' brasseries--lots of delicious types of meat. On the way in, my mom stuffed several fifties and twenties into my pocket, being the only one between us with any money. She murdered three glasses of red wine, some of which I tasted, so when we were done, she was, shall we say, well-lubricated. (At least that kind.)

The complex had two places for dancing, one a modern club, and the other a piano jazz bar for the mellower crowd. That's where I took her. It had a surprisingly small dance floor and several rows of intimate tables for two. More red wine found its way to our table and after a few sips, my mom took my hand out to the floor. When I was a sophomore in high school, both parents insisted I take dance classes, I suspect as an attempt to break me out of nerd mode. As a consequence, I ended up knowing most of the dance moves.

On the floor, mom and I flowed easily with the medium-paced songs. Because she'd been my partner for all the homework practices, we knew each other's moves and fit together like a glove. (Or an old married couple, take your pick.) After looking around, I whispered in her ear, "Mom, look around. It's not even close--you are hands down the prettiest woman in this room tonight. Sexy as..."

She snorted and giggled, then pressed her body closer in to me. "Thank you, handsome. You know how make an old broad feel good again."

"There are so many things wrong with that," I whispered. "You're not old, and you're not a broad, but I am very happy if you feel good again. You deserve it."

She pulled her head back and looked me in the eye. "Aww," she said and leaned forward for a kiss.

This was the moment. Anxious not to miss it or mess it up, I leaned forward, too. Our lips met. Hers were soft and warm, and I drew her closer. We swayed together for several minutes with nothing happening, our lips just softly rubbing each other. Gently I then swept across her lower lip with my tongue.

She stiffened, but didn't pull back. Then, I felt her body relax in my embrace, and her tongue did the same, just quickly and softly sweeping across my lower lip. By the time it registered what she was doing, it was almost too late, but I managed to connect with hers just as she reached the opposite end. Challenged by my tongue, she had a decision to make: pull back or engage, go or no-go. I opened my mouth wider and sucked her tongue into it.

With a soft moan, I felt her give in to the desire that must have been building in her.

What followed was heaven on a dance floor. The woman of my dreams and I made out, our tongues entwined in a passionate kiss filled with love and desire, swaying together closely, on a dance floor, in public.

Our bodies pulled together and she couldn't help but feel the rock of my manhood pulsing against her stomach. Her hands dropped to my back, then she pulled me in even closer and began slowly humping me. Her eyes opened and we stared deep into each others' as the rest of our bodies expressed the urge that was slowly but surely escalating.

I leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "I want you, my sexy woman, you make me feel things I have never felt before."

After a sharp intake of breath, she murmured back, "Take me home then, my hot man." With a last hump, she pulled back and led the way back to our table. The waitress approached us, and I settled the bill with the cash mom had given me on the way in.

When we reached the car, my mom repeated the 'show before we go' exposure, but this time I saw no panties, only a naked and flowering pussy. My eyes must have bugged out like saucers, because she laughed aloud and pulled in her legs. Once I settled (the term being used very loosely here) she dropped something into my jacket side pocket. "Something to remember this night by," she said with a throaty chuckle.

Driving home, I ran my hand slowly up her thigh, while she laid back against the backrest and opened her legs. Timing it on purpose, I just reached her hot and wet lovebox when the garage door closed behind us. After she undid her seat belt, she rolled toward me, and our mouths connected again as if on autopilot, and our tongues resumed their eager and lusty tango.

"Let's take this to my bed," she panted.

I could not believe it. Heaven's door, just a few steps away.

Clothes littered the way there, so by the time I drew her to me, we were both naked. I loved this woman more than anyone on earth. Laying her down gently, I crawled up between her legs, kissing and licking my way up her inner thighs, which spread wider and wider as my face approached you know where. Her inner lips were spread open, completely wet with her love dew. Looking up I saw her mouth half-open and lidded eyes exuding desire. I lingered on her upper thigh to tease her, but with a deep groan she pulled my head to her treasure. "No, baby, no teasing. Not tonight. Give it to me, I need it. I need you, baby."

When my mouth touched her nether lips, she let out a long moan and drew my head in closer. "Yes, Gunnar, there. Do me. Do me now. You've waited so long, give it to me. No more waiting."

Softly and slowly my tongue reached out and touched her, teasing her perineum and burrowing into her opening. Loud moaning filled the air, as she humped my face and pulled it into her. My hands found her boobs and softly pinched her nipples.

"Oh baby, you're setting your mother on fire. No more. I need you inside. Come fuck your mommy, baby. I need you."

Instead, I pulled one hand back and inserted two fingers into her humping pussy. That did it. "Gunnar!" she yelled. "Yes, yes, Oh fuuuuuhuuuhuuuuck!" Her legs straightened and clamped around my ears, and her movements turned almost violent as she came hard, calling my name over and over.

When she came down, she reached down and lifted my head. Looking into my eyes, she begged, "Now, my stud. Inside, in me, I need you in me. Now!" Sliding upward I kissed her body and her nipples, until I felt the head of Little Gunnar, now Hard Gunnar, touch my mother's opening.

"In me, baby, in me. Now! Fuck your mother." She was beyond civilized, all primal.

Pushing forward, my steel cock sank into the wet warm welcome sleeve where I came from. A long, exhaling groan escaped my mother's throat. "Yes, sweetheart. Ugh, fill me up, yeah, like that. Oh fuck!" Shit, this woman who brought me into the world was loud!

Burying myself to the hilt, I waited and just enjoyed the feeling. My favorite pussy, filled all the way. I felt like I had died and went to heaven.

"Lovely, baby." She looked into my eyes with a hard stare. "Now... fuck me."

Ever the obedient son, I pulled out until only the tip remained, then thrust back in all the way. Again and again, until we established a rhythm.

After a while, her cries and movements told me she was approaching her crest. "Harder," she hoarsely cried. I sped up and crashed into her with every stroke, until I felt her walls spasm around me. Not ready to cum myself, I kept plowing on through her orgasm. Soon, I heard, then felt, her climbing her second peak, which set me on the track for mine. "Oh mother, sexy as fuck," I grunted, "I'm ready to cum. Where do you want it?"

"In me, baby, fill me up. I'm ready, too. Cum with me!"

Her vaginal walls spasmed around me again, pulling me over the edge this time, and I emptied myself into my turned-on mother with her legs around my back.

Panting, I rolled off of her. She turned her head, caressed my cheek with her hand and whispered, "Magic. Pure magic."

Kissing her hand, I grinned. "You are the master magician, mom--you took me to places I've never been."

"Oh, my baby," she crooned. "Hold me. Hold me close to you."

Sliding an arm beneath her neck, I drew her to me. She slid an arm and a leg across my body as if to claim me. Resting her head on my chest, she gently rubbed my upper body. "You're so handsome, strong and sexy."

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk when it comes to sexy. When you stepped down the stairs tonight, I almost came right there and then, just looking at you."

A little giggle escaped her. "Yeah, I noticed a certain growth happening."

"Yep, and that's because you are sex on legs. All my buddies call you a MILF."

"They do?" An amused smile lit up her face. "And yes, hon, I know what a MILF is."

"You should. Because that's what you were. But now, you're a MIF."

One of her eyebrows rose. "Yeah? What's that?"

"A mother I fucked. My one and only, not just my favorite."

Pulling away slightly, she smiled. "So, does that mean you haven't fucked your stepmom yet?"

"Uh uh." I looked her in the eye. "After this, what reason would I have?"

"Just teasing," she said, but we both knew it was more than that. Losing her husband to a younger slut was bad enough, losing her son to the same slut would crash her world.

--

I stayed in my mother's bed and we slept together. The following morning was Saturday. I awoke first, finding her lying just like she did when we fell asleep: draped over me, with a blissful smile framed by a head of morning hair. After a few minutes, her eyes opened. "How long have you been staring at me?"

"Not long enough. I can look at you forever. You are so beautiful, a feast for my eyes."

She slapped my chest lightly. "What, all crusty and disheveled like this?"

"You were beautiful and sexy as fuck last night when you were dressed to the nines. You are just as beautiful and sexy this morning all disheveled, and that's because your beauty starts within you, mom. Because it's you. You have no idea how beautiful you are. So, long answer, I can look at you forever, in whatever state you're in."

"Aww, aren't you just the sweetest and corniest thing ever?" She leaned over and kissed me on my lips. I put my tongue out and she met it. The kiss immediately grew in intensity and I began rubbing my hand up and down her back, drawing her up onto me.

When her crusty pussy touched my woody, her head flew up. "Are you hard again?"

"Mom! Didn't dad ever get morning wood? I'm told all men get it."

"Nothing like this. This feels awesome." With that, she sat up on me, aimed my hungry rod, and impaled herself on me. Already wet, she began gyrating her body while I groped her tits and pinched her nipples. This wasn't love, it was a lusty morning fuck, pure horny biology. She rutted me for a few pumps, then turned around and rode me in a reverse cowgirl position. Her pussy lips clung to my cock whenever she pulled forward, and disappeared back into her, along with my rigid member, when she pushed back.

It took less than fifteen minutes before I heard the signs of her climbing up her peak. Grasping her ass, I held on and pushed as hard and fast as I could. Again, the magic feeling of her pussy walls gripping on me in spasms sent me over the edge and I came, pulsing several times and filling her.

She turned around and climbed off. Holding out her hand, she helped me to my feet. "We need to get cleaned up, baby. We have a new day waiting for us."

"More than a new day, mother, a new life."

Epilogue

From that night on, I slept in her bed. We fucked like bunnies on steroids and fresh batteries every night, and gradually she overcame the blow to her ego when Dad left her.

That didn't mean she didn't have concerns. She didn't want me to fixate on her, insisting that I date girls my age, for two reasons. One, to remove all suspicion that the two of us had formed an illicit relationship, but the main one was the sensibility that in the long run both of us would end up happier with someone more or less our age.

When I told her Dad had canned the girl he left her for, that helped her ego, too. She never said it, but I got the impression she wanted me to bed his girlfriends as kind of a proxy for her revenge.

Hmm... I thought, let's see... Mom says she'll feel good when I fuck Dad's girlfriends. Maybe there could be another story in there somewhere?