Miks Mate

Mik was out; he had gone out to see his girlfriend, Louise. They were, or so he said, going to meet at the coffee shop in the precinct and then just 'hang' -- whatever that meant. I suspected that what they actually did depended on whether Louise's parents were at home or not.

I had told Mik, before he went, that I would be home all day; I had laundry to do. I had a simple sundress on, nothing else. I knew I would get dusty and sweaty; it was always that way heaving the sheets off the beds and quilts out of covers. There was, I concluded months ago, no point in adding to the laundry by getting a load of clothing dirty too. A simple sundress kept me covered.

I had, a few months ago, started the day naked, and that was going well until the postman called with a parcel. I had quickly thrown a robe on, but by the time I got to the door, the postman was walking away, and I had to call after him. And then a few hours later, the meter man came to read the meter, and I had to cover up again. I concluded that a simple old sundress would do.

So, here I was, old and tatty sundress on, stripping beds and getting loads into the washing machine. I had done my bed and then Mik's. Goodness, but his room had an aroma -- no idea what, perhaps old deodorant mixed with his emissions. Yes, I know he wanked frequently; I could hardly miss the sounds, never mind the latent aroma. He was 18, so it was to be expected.

I emptied his bedroom bin, full of crusty tissues -- they went straight outside into the wheelie bin -- and I sprayed his bedroom bin with disinfectant before I put it back. I would have a word with him later and ask him to empty his own bin. I wondered if I could embarrass him into emptying, telling him that I shouldn't have to throw away his masturbation tissues.

I doubted it; he walked around with a visible erection in his trousers half the time. He knew I could see the outline of his dick, and that didn't phase him, so mentioning his tissues probably wouldn't bother him either. His dick was not my concern; I presumed it was Louise's to deal with, and all I could hope was that they were being sensible.

I had gotten wet from the rain as I had emptied Mik's bin; just as I got to the end of the drive and opened the wheelie bin, the heavens had let loose, and even though I hurried back to the house, my sundress had gotten wet and clung to me a little. I ignored it; the rain wasn't cold, just wet. I supposed I could have taken the dress off, but what was the point? It wasn't bothering me.

I had just put the first load into the washing machine and set it to wash when the front doorbell chimed. I went and opened the door. Charlie, Mik's mate from the other side of town, was standing there looking like a drowned rat.

"Goodness, Charlie, come in out of the rain," I said, hurrying him inside. "Mik isn't here; he is with Louise in town."

"Oh, darn it, we were going to do Warhammer today, or at least that is what I thought we agreed on. Wasted journey."

"Look, you can't go back out in that; you'll catch your death. Get them wet clothes off. You're the same size as Mik; I'll go and grab a towel and some of his clothes. Put your clothes by the washing machine, and I'll try and get them sorted for you."

I left Charlie standing in the kitchen and went up to Mik's room. I didn't want to give Charlie any of Mik's favourite clothes; he had a few that he seemed to just live in. So I went to the bottom of the piles and grabbed a polo shirt I hadn't seen him wear for ages and a stone-coloured pair of chinos.

I took a bath sheet out of the bathroom and went down to the kitchen. Charlie was standing there in just his underpants. His clothes were sitting in a puddle by the washing machine. I passed Charlie the towel to dry himself and realised his underpants were soaked too.

"Oh, Charlie, your undies are soaked too. Get them off; I'll go and get you a dry pair."

I turned and headed back up to Mik's room. From the bottom of his pile, I grabbed a pair of boxers that Mik hadn't worn for ages. Being his laundry queen, I pretty much knew what he did and didn't wear. Back in the kitchen, Charlie stood with the towel around him. I passed him the boxers.

As he reached forward to take them from me, the towel slipped open and just hung from one hand. It covered his leg, but not his dick. Goodness, he was a big boy. What took my breath away was that he was hard. I didn't expect that at all. Soaked to the skin and in his mate's mum's house, I really would have expected it to have shrivelled away and tried to hide. Apparently not.

I said nothing; I simply turned away, but not before the sight of it had been imprinted into my memory. As I turned, I caught sight of myself reflected in the glass oven door. My sundress had clung to me; it was wet, and it was perfectly outlining my breasts and stuck to my crotch as well. I may as well have been naked.

I felt mortified and then wondered if I had been the cause of Charlie's erection. I have a teenage boy who seems pretty much hard all the time; perhaps it wasn't me after all. A little regret flowed; a woman does like to feel that she is sexy, well, at least sometimes. Although he would have thought me too old and ancient, I guess it would have done my ego good to know that I had been responsible.

"Are you decent now, Charlie?" I asked with my back still to him.

"Yes, Mrs. M, I am."

I turned around. He had the polo top on and the boxers. He hadn't put the chinos on, and I could see his dick jutting at the cotton fabric of the boxers. I raised my eyes to his face; a little gulp escaped me. Goodness, what was wrong with me? Charlie was the same age as my son.

"I'm sorry, Mrs M," he said.

"What for, Charlie?" I asked, keeping my eyes on his face, rather than on the bulge below his waist.

"That," he said, pointing at his bulge, "only, well, your dress is wet, and, well, sorry, it just happened."

"Oh," I said, not quite sure how to react. "I'm a middle-aged woman, Charlie; I am old enough to be your mum."

"But you're not her, and well, it happened." As he spoke, he moved closer to me, his bulge almost touching me.

My body betrayed me. I do not know why; it just did. Unbeknownst to my brain, my right hand moved forward and gripped his bulge. As I looked him in the eyes, I saw him gasp, and at that moment, my brain caught up and I realised what I was doing.

Oh Lord, oh Lordy, he was so hard. I moved my hand, moving it back and forth; Charlie gasped again. I had crossed a line. I hardly knew what to do; I was in a dither.

"Perhaps," Charlie said quietly, "that you ought to take your wet clothes off too? You don't want to catch your death either."

My brain didn't process just how forward he was being, how brazen; I simply pulled my sundress up and dropped it onto the pile of his wet clothes.

"Fuck," Charlie said, his eyes glued to my boobs. What is it with boys that they are so obsessed with breasts? The real joy lies further down.

He pulled the polo shirt off and then pushed the boxers down. We were both stark naked in my kitchen, something I had not even remotely considered would be possible today. Well, actually, not possible any day.

"Upstairs," I said; the kitchen was no place for fornication, the floor was too hard for a start.

He followed me up to my bedroom, no doubt getting a good eyeful of my bum and my fanny beneath, as I led the way. My bedroom was a mess, of course; I had only stripped the bed; I hadn't remade it. I felt the need to apologise.

"Sorry, I was in the process of making the beds when you called."

"Who cares?" He came up to me and pushed me onto the bed. I fell back, my legs widening as I lay back, my sex open for visual inspection. He inspected closely.

"You have no hair," he said, stating the blindingly obvious.

"No," I said. "No, I don't."

He knelt between my legs, and leaning forward, he ran a finger along my crease, slipping between my fanny lips and onto my valley. I was amazed at how wet I was; his finger moved easily between my inner folds. I gasped as his finger found my nubbin and pressed it. 'Hell, it's not an on-off switch,' I thought.

His finger moved back down, crossed my urethra and found my entrance. He pushed. No foreplay, he simply pushed his finger inside me. The inexperience of youth. But I still gasped. He wiggled his finger inside me and then pulled it out. He lay over me, grabbed his dick and pushed it at my entrance.

A flick of his hips and his dick entered, pushing my fanny walls apart, stretching me, and filling me.

"God," I gasped. It had been a while, nearly a year, and the last guy I had been with was a fair bit smaller but somewhat much more experienced. He had known what to do. Charlie, it seemed, knew only the basic biology.

"Charlie," I said, holding his face gently, "pull out a minute."

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Charlie, but we can make it so much better, trust me. Pull out and lay on your back."

He pulled out as quickly as he went in; he has a lot to learn. He rolled to one side and lay on his back. I knelt between his ankles and leant forward. I inhaled; I could smell me on his dick. That was good; at least he kept himself clean, always a bonus.

'Mica, what the fuck are you doing?' I thought to myself, I mean, I am not in the habit of jumping into bed, never mind with a lad the same age as my son. No going back now. I opened my mouth and went down on him.

"Oh, fucking Jesus," Charlie gasped as I sucked his dick into my mouth. I reached under and held his balls, squeezing them enough to cause a little discomfort, but not enough to be painful. I began to move my mouth up and down, moving his foreskin with the suction in my mouth. He began to hump my mouth, his hips rising and falling, his hands gripping at the mattress; there was, of course, no sheet on the bed.

I let his balls go and slipped my hand further down and backwards, sliding a fingernail along his perineum and then pressing at his anal sphincter. He squirmed and grunted and moaned and gasped. I could feel his arse puckering and relaxing. I pushed as he relaxed, and my finger disappeared inside him. I wiggled my finger as best as I could, and then he suddenly bellowed and pressed upward, his dick flooding my mouth as he orgasmed. I swallowed, I licked, I swallowed some more, and as he relaxed, I eased my finger out of his arse.

"God, I'm sorry," he said.

"Whatever for?" I asked, "I mean, you know, I have done it before; I do know what to expect. It's okay, Charlie."

"Because I cum, in your mouth, you know."

"That was the general idea; we can shag later, but first, you have to return the favour for me."

"What? How?" He really had no idea; I wasn't going to ask him, but I did wonder if I was his first.

"Well, I lie down and you go down on me and see if you can make me cum."

"I am not sure." He paused. "I have never done that."

"Charlie, it's okay; we all have a first time doing something. Now any girlfriend you have will do anything for you, and I mean anything, if you go down on her and make her cum. It is so much better for a girl than shagging is."

"Okay."

He knelt between my ankles and leant forward. His nose touched my crease and then his tongue.

"The key to getting it right, Charlie, is to be gentle. That little bumpy bit at the top is my clitoris, and if properly and gently played with, it will make me, and indeed, most girls orgasm, and in a most delicious and painfully wonderful way." He moved his finger to my crease and began to slide it up and down.

"That is okay, Charlie, that is good, but do you know what is better? Your tongue is better, oh, so much better. And while you are using your tongue there, your fingers, yes, more than one, can gently be investigating inside me."

Ah, yes, now he is getting it; a quick learner is Charlie boy. His tongue slipped up my valley, crossed my urethra and past the last of my inner folds, and found my little bump. Oh, yes, that's it, Charlie. The tip of his tongue traced around my nubbin, and I made suitably encouraging noises. I hope that they were encouraging; they were purely involuntary; they were just falling from my mouth as my fingers clutched at the mattress.

As he licked and lapped, fingers circled my entrance, tracing it like a plughole, and then slowly and gently a finger entered; I felt his fingernail. I was too busy gasping as my nubbin was called out to play to really get what was happening a little further south, and then I realised he had worked it out. There were two fingers pushing inside me, sliding across the ridges and bumps in my fanny wall. My bottom rose and my breath held; oh yes, oh, yes, Charlie, much better.

"Why, Charlie," I managed to get out between the gasps, "I am too old for you."

"Milf, Mrs M, such a milf," he said into my fanny. I did not know what that meant, but I wasn't going to ask now; I was too busy gasping. Teeth nipped at my nubbin and tugged. My back rose higher and higher, my bottom clearing the bed, and then, as he let go, he widened his fingers inside me, and my orgasm exploded. Pressures released, pleasures flowed from my nubbin in rivers to my toes, my ears and my nipples, and I screamed, my clenched hands beating at the bed. Slowly my senses returned, calmness and relaxation came over me, and I found myself laughing.

"Oh, that was good, Charlie; you did good."

"I have never seen that before, not for real anyway."

"Charlie, you do that for a girl, and she will love you forever. Now it is your turn again; lie on your back and close your eyes."

He lay down, and I bent sideways and sucked his dick; the taste now had a metallic edge, and soon, so very soon, his dick was hard again. I straddled his belly, facing his feet. I rose up and slipped down until my fanny was over his dick, and then I slowly lowered myself. The end of his dick was in just the right place; my fanny petals fluttered, and I lowered more, his dick spreading me so much wider than two fingers did, but that was okay. I was ready; I was prepared.

I felt my body stretching to accommodate him, and I felt his dick reach my depth. I had taken all of him, and my fanny was as expanded as it could be. I rocked forwards, and his dick slipped back towards my entrance, my internals feeling relaxed as they were no longer stuffed with boy meat. I rocked back, his dick filling the void he had just left. Forwards, backwards, his dick sliding in and out of me, his foreskin rolling along his shaft, a delicious tickle inside me as it moved. I felt a finger, or perhaps a thumb, on my anus. He learns so quickly, I thought as he pushed forwards as I rocked back.

There was a pop, my sphincter ceded, and his thumb was in my backside; oh, goodness, it added a stretch. I began to rock back and forth quickly, pushing his thumb into me as I leant back, my left finger reaching down and pressing at my nubbin. My breath gasped, my whole body tightened.

I could hear Charlie gasping. I smiled; I bet he hadn't expected this to happen today, but who could tell what boys thought? They seemed mostly driven by their dicks, which seemed to be able to turn their brains to the off mode. I rocked forwards and my hand pressed harder on my nubbin. I rocked backwards, and his dick delved deeper, and his thumb rocked inside me. Pressures grew, pleasures flowed around my body, my nipples tingled, my ears twitched and my toes curled.

I could feel my fanny clench; I knew I was close, and as I was worrying how I could hold on, Charlie grunted loudly and pushed up. Spurt after spurt filled my fanny and flooded my womb; my floodgates opened, and for the second time today, I screamed, I shrieked, I beat at the mattress, and my orgasm exploded.

I slumped down, resting on Charlie's hips as I gathered my breath. My chest was heaving; I was gulping in air. I pressed my hands down and pushed up; Charlie's softening dick fell from my fanny with a slurping sound, and I felt his floods of cum dripping off my fourchette.

I rolled and lay on the bed, my breasts pointing at the ceiling, my hand wanting to hold his, but knowing that would send the wrong message. I was tactile; I needed touches after sex. This felt odd; it felt awkward. I didn't know what to say.

"Thanks, Mrs. M, you were great. You are such a MILF."

"I have to ask you, Charlie, what is a 'Milf'?"

"You are Mrs. M, a mother I'd love to fuck."

"Oh." I decided that he must have known Mik was out and that he had planned this. I suppose I had better prepare myself when Mik next went out for the day.