How I Fucked My Roommate's Mom

Author's note: I know what you're thinking. Another POV story about a teenager lusting after his friend's mom? Didn't you already do this one?

Sorta, yeah. But this isn't just a retelling of "Seducing My Friend's Mom" with different names swapped in. The specifics, the plot, and the characters are all unique. The ending will be unique as well. "How I Fucked My Roommate's Mom" will also be longer: I'm aiming for 5 parts of roughly 10k words each for ~50k total.

And the usual disclaimers: all characters are fictional, similarities to real-world people/events are purely coincidental, everyone involved is of legal consenting age, etc.

***

I was never the kind of kid that adults expected much from.

He's lazy.

He's undisciplined.

He's just not cut out for school. Maybe he could do something with his hands instead?

And fuck, maybe they were right. My grades in high school certainly suggested so. College wasn't even on my radar until my senior year. I probably would have graduated and took the first job I could get, without thinking twice about it. I was too interested in girls--and they were too interested in me--for me to waste much time with classrooms or homework.

But then one of my crushes got me to do something I never would have done on my own: get my shit together.

Aurora was her name. She was cute. Brown hair with blue eyes. Less curvy, but pleasantly athletic. Sweet. Classic good-girl persona.

She was also a big believer in college. And so, when I first tried making moves on her, she politely explained that she was too focused on school to waste time on a guy who wasn't equally focused.

Long story short, for my senior year, I became a model student. My parents and teachers were all impressed at my drastic turnaround, calling it an academic miracle. I applied to several colleges, and while several turned me down, I was accepted by a surprising number of others--some were actually quite good schools. Well, good for someone like me, anyway.

Unfortunately, Aurora was not as impressed. While she did agree to go to prom with me that spring, prom did not translate to sex. I was very frustrated by my failed efforts, but stubbornly refusing to walk away with nothing, I decided I would follow-through with my college plans out of spite.

As fate had it, though, that spite would lead me to the best fucking of my life. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Committing to the college that seemed to have the hottest women, I moved onto campus just before fall semester. My assigned roommate had already moved in the day prior, but whatever hopes I had of finding a kindred spirit quickly evaporated after we exchanged greetings.

Introducing himself as "Kal--as in, you can CALL me KAL", I quickly realized how different we were. Kal was smart. Pre-med. Not shy, exactly, but definitely a bit reserved. He helped me move some of my stuff in, but afterwards, rather than mingle with the other new freshmen, he wanted to stay in the dorm room.

But against the odds, Kal and I quickly became good friends. I was making small talk with him when he casually mentioned having to work his class schedule around going to the local mosque on Friday afternoons.

"Wait, you're Muslim?" I asked, incredulous. "But you don't look Muslim."

A bad assumption on my part, maybe, but aside from his slightly unusual name, Kal seemed like a stereotypical all-American frat boy. Brown hair. Light skin. Wouldn't seem out of place on a lacrosse team.

"Yeah, I get that a lot. People usually don't realize until after I bring out the suicide vest."

I stared at Kal, who stared back straight-faced. Then I burst out laughing.

"Dude, you're funny as fuck," I said, nodding with newfound respect.

A slight smile broke across Kal's face, before he turned serious again. "So, where are you from?"

I tilted my head, confused. "I'm from here?"

"Oh, shit. I just assumed you weren't American. You found out I was Muslim and you didn't immediately ask me for my oil, so..."

I stared again. This time it was Kal who couldn't contain his laughter.

"Bro, your fucking face," he cracked, before doubling over in his chair.

Soon, I was laughing with him; just like that, we were friends for life.

***

Even before the semester truly started, I threw myself into the campus social scene. Making friends. Attending parties. Flirting with frats seeking members and college girls seeking thrills. I even dragged Kal along occasionally, but it was clear he was more comfortable hanging out around the dorm. Still, the social boost I gave him was undeniable--just as the boost he gave my academics was undeniable. More than once, I wanted to shirk my studies, but Kal always convinced me to stick with it.

Considering I owed Kal my passing grades--plus him being my best friend--it was probably in poor taste for me to fuck his mom. A bit uncool, at the very least. But in my defense, I never intended to. At least, not at first.

In fact, Kal was the reason she saw me naked in the first place. I'd brought a girl back to our dorm room--a blond sorority chick with ungodly curves--and was steadily railing her in missionary on my bed. Kal took that moment to walk in, his visiting parents in tow, treating all of them to the stellar sight of me fucking the hell out of this poor girl. I was so close to cumming, I couldn't stop even with my unexpected audience. My shocked groans mixed with the cries of mortification from Kal and his family; by the time I'd finished releasing onto the blonde's belly, Kal and his parents had already fled.

"Bro, what the fuck?" I'd confronted Kal the next time I saw him alone. "How did you miss the sock on the door? Not to mention my texts?"

"I was too busy visiting with Mom and Dad to see your texts. And how the fuck was I supposed to know that's what the sock was? I thought your laundry just got caught on the handle."

"Dude! That's a classic college symbol. Everyone knows what it means!"

"Well, apparently not," Kal sighed. "And now my mom is convinced that I'm roommates with a musaafih."

"I'm gonna assume that means someone who's really cool," I said.

Kal laughed. "You know, you might be on to something there."

***

I found out later--Kal's joking aside--that his mom's impression of me was indeed less than favorable. So much so that she did her best to convince Kal to spend less time with me, stopping just short of asking him to find a new roommate.

But Kal assured her that I had not influenced him in ways that she would not approve of. And, if anything, he was a positive influence on me.

"I may have also led her to believe that you were showing some interest in Islam."

"Well, that's not a total lie," I shrugged. "I have been asking some big questions. Like is it okay for Muslims to take free samples of beer as long as they share it with their good friend instead of drinking it themselves?"

Kal sighed. "Maybe don't mention the specifics if you ever do see her again."

***

I did see her again, much sooner than I think any of us expected. About a month into school, Kal invited me to visit him at home. I think he did it partly out of sympathy--my parents were very much of the mindset that now that I was a legal adult, their responsibilities to me had ended--but also in hopes that he could convince his mom that I wasn't the 'musaafih' she'd believed me to be.

Unfortunately for Kal, my behavior would only serve to reinforce her initial impression.

It wasn't really my fault. I'm a pretty chill guy, but I don't do well with judgment from others. I tend to take it as a challenge. Oh, so you think I don't have ambition? Well, fuck you, Aurora, guess who's getting their college degree.

Or, in Kal's mom's case: you don't approve of me banging women in the privacy of my own room? Well, now I'm gonna try to bang you, how's that? Or at least double-down enough to make you uncomfortable, if you're not someone I'd want to actually bang.

It sounds a bit weird to say this now, but I didn't know if I found Kal's mom attractive at first. I barely saw her that first encounter, and when we exchanged a formal introduction at his house, she was so covered up in layered clothing--including a headscarf--that I couldn't make out anything other than her face. She looked younger than my own parents and her face was nice enough, but I wasn't any more attracted to her than I'd be attracted to a floating headshot of a random woman.

But knowing that she disapproved of my lifestyle choices, I pushed the envelope as much as I could.

I started small. That first visit, after dinner--something that was kind of like beef oatmeal?--I caught her alone as she was washing dishes.

"I wanted to apologize for the first impression I made on you and your husband," I'd began. "I promise I had no intentions of exposing you to something so... explicit."

She turned towards me, a strange expression on her face, then simply nodded. "I appreciate your apology, Ethan."

One of the things I continued to find surprising about her was how minimal her accent was. It popped out more in certain words than others, but there was no doubt about her English fluency. Still, the traces I did catch were kind of hot in their own way.

"You're welcome, Mrs. Southard. Or should I call you by your first name?" I asked, putting just a hint of flirtatiousness in my tone. "What is it--Jamila, I think Kal said?"

"Mrs. Southard is fine," she said firmly.

And so our game had begun.

***

Quick side note: I'd once asked Kal why he had such an American last name but "Khalfan" as a first name. The answer was actually pretty straightforward. His mom was an immigrant, but his (much older) dad was an American who did consulting work overseas. During one of his work trips, Kal's dad had met his mom, they hit it off, his dad converted to Islam, and then she moved back to the States with him to get married. His mom had attempted to preserve her heritage as much as possible, and so when she suggested a traditional Arabic name for their son, his dad did not push back.

***

If I hadn't been so annoyed by Mrs. Southard's judgment, I would have put her out of my mind soon after I left her house. I had an entire campus of hot women to explore, and time spent on her was time I wasn't spending with them. But I wanted a reaction, a real reaction, from her, and I couldn't let it go until I'd gotten one.

Unfortunately, I didn't have an easy way to get in contact with her. Showing up at her house uninvited was likely to backfire. And I couldn't count on her coming to the dorms regularly, even to visit Kal. So I got a bit creative.

"Hey, Kal, can I have your mom's number?"

Kal stared at me like I'd grown an extra head. "Why the fuck do you want her number?"

"I'm doing a project about what it's like growing up as a woman in a Muslim country, and I figured this would be a super easy way to get an A. Like I'm doing actual interviews and shit."

Kal raised an eyebrow. "What's the real reason?"

I sighed dramatically. "Fine, you got me. I'm just trying to get in her pants. Or... burka, or whatever the hell that thing is called."

I barely dodged the pillow Kal hurled at my face, but he gave me her number afterward.

***

Hey, Mrs. Southard, it's Ethan, Kal's roommate! Sorry to bother you, but I've got a school project and...

I fired off the initial text, hoping that this showed enough sincere interest that she wouldn't ignore me outright.

To my surprise, I received a response relatively quickly.

Not the acceptance I'd hoped for, but not a total shutdown either. Time for some convincing.

I can find info online, sure, but doing a real interview will make me stand out in the class. Nobody else will have anything else like it. It'll blow the professor away.

When I didn't receive a response in the next few minutes, I added a follow-up:

Please? My grades could really use the boost.

I worried that a ghosting was imminent, but at last I received a response:

And just like that, I was in. I just needed to push a bit more.

Actually, I'd rather meet in person if that's okay. That way I can record you and include clips in my presentation. There's a coffee shop near campus that usually has a quiet corner.

Her reply took an hour:

This was interesting. I hadn't even intended to start anything yet, but it looked like Mrs. Southard had already taken her first steps into forbidden territory: 'oh, I really shouldn't do this, but since it's for a good cause...'

Suddenly I realized I was interested in this game for more than just my pride. There could be a real opportunity here. If Mrs. Southard was willing to go outside of her comfort zone for the sake of education, how much further could I push her? How far would she go if, say, I teased interest in Islam? Sure, I knew she didn't really care about me--she was more concerned with moderating my bad influence in her son's life--but it was still an exciting angle.

Of course, I didn't really know what Mrs. Southard looked like. But that didn't matter. She could have been an utterly repulsive hag underneath her coverings, and I'd still have loved the chase. What can I say? I'm a sucker for turning good girls bad... no matter their age.

When I told Kal that I'd arranged a date with his mom, he simply sighed and said, "fair's fair, I guess. After all the unspeakable things I did to your mom, I guess I can let you get away with a coffee date."

***

Mrs. Southard and I met Saturday morning. It almost didn't happen though; she was about thirty minutes late and didn't respond to my follow-up texts. But just as I was about to write the whole thing off, she walked in the front door. I waved her over, flashing my most charming smile.

She was wearing the same flowy clothes and headscarf that I'd seen her in before, but something about the way she moved was surprisingly graceful. Not bad at all for a woman I guessed to be twice my age.

"Ah, sorry if I kept you waiting. My husband has tried so hard to get me to adapt to how Americans use time, but I'm afraid I'm a lost cause. I'm glad you ordered without me."

I clamped down my annoyance. "No, no, it's fine. Go get your own coffee. And then we can chat?"

She did, while I focused myself for the upcoming interview. I'd done a surprising amount of prep work for it--had to make sure Mrs. Southard didn't realize my true intentions too early.

But once she sat down across from me, I couldn't resist making a fresh assessment of her appearance. There was still nothing I could really see on her body, but I'd underappreciated how pretty her face was. Pleasing symmetry with slightly large nose. Thick eyebrows that gave her brown-eyed stare an extra intensity. Full lips that I couldn't seem to stop glancing at. But what I found most alluring was how expressive her face was; her wrinkles enhanced her appeal rather than detract from it.

"I wanted to say, Mrs. Southard, I really appreciate you doing this. And don't feel bad about making me wait. For someone as lovely as you, I would have waited a lot longer."

She shot me an odd look but ultimately chose to ignore my comment. "So, what can I answer for you? Do you have specific questions, or did you want me to just talk about Oman first?"

"Actually, I wanted to start with something easy. Since we're meeting at a coffee shop, what's coffee like in Oman? I saw on the Internet that you all like it about as much as we do here in America."

Mrs. Southard looked impressed. "Wow, you've done some homework. I guess Kal was right that you can be a good student when you apply yourself."

I shrugged. "Sometimes I'm a good student. Sometimes I like to have fun. And sometimes, I can do both at the same time, especially when I've got a pretty and mature woman to motivate me."

To emphasize my point, I tilted my head towards Mrs. Southard and raised my eyebrows.

She sighed. "Please don't do that. I know all about your flirty style, and I don't want to have to tell my son that his roommate was inappropriate with me."

"Sorry," I said, quickly backtracking. "I was just trying to put you at ease. For the interview, I mean. But yes, tell me about your coffee."

Mrs. Southard stared at me a bit longer, judging my sincerity, but at last she continued. "Well, in Oman, we call it qahwa, and we have our own blend of spices that we add to it--it's absolutely delicious. And qahwa's not just something to drink at home. It's part of how we show hospitality, especially..."

I nodded along, taking notes on my laptop. But while my fingers were recording her words, my eyes recorded everything else. It was the strangest thing... I had only her face to look at, but it captivated me as much as the campus girls captivated me with their bare legs and midriffs. Her coverings were supposed to provide modesty, but all they did was focus my attention on what little I could see.

And the more I stared, the more fixated I became. The way Mrs. Southard smiled as she talked. The way she occasionally would brush away a loose strand of hair that fell out of her headscarf. The way she let her excitement get away from her as she talked about her homeland. She was so eager to share her story, in fact, she seemed to forget that I was her son's roommate.

At least until I pushed too far again. While listening to her recount how she met Kal's dad, I turned on my flirtatious side:

"I mean, I can't blame him for wanting to bring you back to America," I said, nodding approvingly. "I'd have done the same."

That earned me an instant frown and another chastisement.

"Did you ask me here so you could be childish or did ask me here to help with your assignment?"

"Trust me, there's nothing childish about me," I replied. "I'm every bit a man, at least in the ways that matter. After the accidental eyeful I gave you before, you should know."

This was very bold, but I wasn't too worried about her response. Either Mrs. Southard would like it... or she wouldn't. I was more concerned with getting a reaction than whether that reaction was positive or negative.

But Mrs. Southard took a third route. She scoffed.

"I don't know any such thing. Does that sort of talk really work for you?"

"More often than you might think," I shrugged. "Girls seem to like that I know what I want."

"Well, what I think is that you like attention more than you like girls. But I'm not gonna play your game anymore. Did you have other questions for me or are we done?"

It was time to throw my last hook. "I do have one last question about what living in Oman was like for you."

"Is it appropriate?" Mrs. Southard interjected.

"I mean... it's relevant?"

Mrs. Southard stared at me skeptically, but after she remained silent, I pushed ahead.

"What's the naughtiest thing you did growing up? I'm asking for my project, of course."

"Okay, that's enough," Mrs. Southard sighed, pushing away in her chair at last. "I've been patient with you because you're young and because you're friends with my son, but this behavior is unacceptable. You need to learn some decency, young man."

At last, I'd gotten the strong reaction I'd hoped for... but it suddenly felt like I'd made a mistake. I needed to backtrack.

Before Mrs. Southard could pull away, I instinctively reached for her hand, desperate for her to stay long enough for me to make things right. I grasped her successfully, but the scandalized look she shot me as I touched her skin made me realize my error.

"Sorry," I said, quickly releasing her once more. "And sorry for my manners. You're right. I do like attention. Especially from women. But I promise I'm not a bad person. I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. I was just trying to have fun. But that was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."

Mrs. Southard regarded me skeptically. "I appreciate your apology, but that doesn't justify your behavior. And you may enjoy acting like this now, but if you don't start taking your life more seriously, you're never gonna find something more meaningful."

It was my turn to frown. "I can find something meaningful."

"Can you? Do you even know what that would look like?"

"You're talking about getting a girlfriend."

"No. I'm talking about marriage. Having children. Being responsible. Things that require real commitment. Not things you can drop whenever you feel like it."

Despite my growing interest in Mrs. Southard, I found myself getting annoyed again. "So, you just were born wanting to get married? You never had a time where you just wanted to fool around and enjoy life?"

She opened her mouth in reply, then shut it again, apparently rethinking her words. Then, she sighed.

"Of course I did. Look, Ethan. Those urges will never go away. We all face temptation. But if you want to discover real meaning, you need to resist those temptations. They're just distractions."

I knew Mrs. Southard hoped her transparency would convince me of her argument--but all I heard was that she faced temptation too. I began to wonder... what could tempt Mrs. Southard? Maybe a certain flirty college student?

I was struck by inspiration.

"Well, I appreciate your advice, Mrs. Southard. And maybe you're right. Maybe I do need to learn more about life. But I don't really have anyone to teach me. At least, not anyone older that I trust. Would it be okay if I reached out to you whenever I need advice?"

Mrs. Southard saw right through me. "If it's advice you're looking for, I think you might do better with a male mentor. Especially for the kind of advice I suspect you'll be asking about."

"But I feel like I made a connection with you today. And Kal's my best friend. Just think how much better you'll feel knowing that you're helping me be a good influence on him."

"Oh, so this is about Kal, is it?" she asked. Her tone was stern, but I caught the slight smile that formed at the corner of her mouth.

"A bit, sure. I mean, yeah, it's also about you and me too, but helping your son out is a nice bonus, right?"

Apparently that line exhausted the last of Mrs. Southard's patience. "I'm gonna leave now, Ethan. I hope your project turns out well."

She waved a quick goodbye and made her escape out the door.

Well, that went both better and worse than I hoped it would. My flirting hadn't gotten anywhere, but I did learn that underneath her modest exterior, Mrs. Southard did have a wilder side. Sure, she may have locked it away, but maybe with the right technique, I could release it again. I began to wonder--just what did she look like under all those layers?

And if nothing else, I did get what I needed for my project. I sensed an 'A' in my near future.

***

"So, just had a great date with a hot MILF," I said upon entering my dorm room. "Didn't get too far this time, but I can tell she wants me."

Kal rolled his eyes. "I think you might need your sensors checked. They're clearly faulty."

"What, you don't think I could swing your mom if I really wanted to? Want to make a bet on it?" I challenged.

"Okay, first off, that's gross, dude. Second of all, as much as I'd love to see you crash and burn, the last thing I want to do is give you even more reason to be weird around her. So no. Fuck your bet. Go after some girls our age instead."

"Why, so you can walk in on us again?"

"Dude, that happened ONCE."

"And now I'm never gonna let you forget about it," I grinned.

***

In my fantasies, Mrs. Southard and I struck up a steady text conversation. I flirted. She played hard to get. But slowly I brought her 'round. Charmed her with my wit. Made her laugh. And when I asked for another coffee date, she agreed instantly. When I suggested moving the date to her house, she made a show of reluctance before ultimately agreeing. And when we inevitably dropped all pretense and moved to the fucking, I usually was halfway to orgasming. Of course, I didn't know what Mrs. Southard looked like beyond her face, so in my imagination, she usually fucked fully clothed, just with her layers strategically arranged to allow me entrance.

But, unfortunately, that's not how things played out in reality.

It wasn't for lack of trying.

The first few days after our coffee date, I tried different tricks to engage her. Asking her to tell me more about the qahwa in Oman--apparently adding cardamom was the key?--and sending her snippets of my project. Showing her that I'd gotten the A that I'd hoped for.

But the responses I got were always short... when I got responses at all.

I didn't give up on Mrs. Southard, but I accepted that until I could meet her again in-person, I wasn't likely to make much progress. In the meantime, I was happy to keep her in my fantasy highlight reel. And my porn searches for 'Arab MILF' multiplied too. I did have to wonder though--did real-life Arab MILFs really keep their headscarves on while they fucked?

Fortunately, while I played my waiting game with Mrs. Southard, I soon got one hell of a distraction.

***

I met Randa by chance. My last class on Tuesdays ended about twenty minutes before Kal usually wrapped up his Gen Chem lab, which normally just meant I had a bit of free time to myself in our dorm room before Kal joined me. But a couple Tuesdays after my coffee date with Mrs. Southard, I decided to surprise Kal by waiting for him outside the science building.

Yet he was the one to surprise me, because when he finally exited, he did not do so alone.

A rather attractive girl was with him: long, straight black hair. Nice smile. Thinner frame. Smaller chest but respectable ass. The two of them chatted good-naturedly before Kal waved her goodbye to link up with me.

"Ooooh, Kal, who's that?" I asked immediately. "She's cute."

Kal just rolled his eyes. "That would be my lab TA, Randa."

"Rhonda? Seriously? She's too young to have a grandma name like that. She's our age, right?"

"A few years older, I think? But no, not that kind of Rhonda. Randa. R-A-N-D-A. She's from Jordan."

"Is that another college or something?"

Kal stopped in his tracks and stared at me. "Dude, we gotta get you out in the world more. Jordan's a country. In the Middle East. You know, the same region that my mom's from?"

It was funny. Now that Kal mentioned it, Randa did remind me of a younger version of Mrs. Southard. Only she dressed the same as any of the other TAs I'd seen around campus. No layered robes or headscarves for her--I was able to appreciate her body directly.

"So, with her being a fellow Middle Easterner, does that mean you're trying to make a move on her?"

"Depends," Kal shrugged. "Does you being an American mean you'll try to make a move on any Canadian you see?"

"Well, sure," I answered immediately. "I'm an equal opportunity kinda dude. I'll try to make a move on any woman if they're hot enough."

Kal sighed. "We gotta get you set up with a steady girlfriend. You're worse than a vampire at a bloodbank. But to answer your question, no, I'm not interested in Randa like that. We were just talking about stuff in lab. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's gotta be against the rules for a TA to date one of their students."

"What about someone who's not one of their students?" I asked with overly-innocent curiosity.

"You know what, fuck it. If you want to put the moves on Randa, go for it. Beats you joking about my mom."

"Don't worry, I'm still gonna do that too," I reassured him.

***

The following week I returned to the science building, but rather than wait outside, I entered and made my way to Kal's lab. I killed time for a few minutes, students beginning to trickle out as they finished whatever lab tasks they'd been assigned. Kal himself exited shortly after, expecting me to follow him back to our dorm room.

But I declined.

"Sorry, I'm waiting for someone else," I said with a straight face.

Kal looked at me, then back at the lab he'd just left. "Wow, I'm surprised you're still gonna go for it. I thought for sure another girl would have distracted you by now."

"It's been a week."

"Yeah, exactly," Kal deadpanned. "So, you want me here as backup? Or want me to hide inside one of the other rooms so I give you space while you crash and burn?"

I considered.

"Stay," I finally decided. "And if you don't mind, can you introduce us?"

"What the fuck am I supposed to say? 'Hey, Randa, here's my roommate who wants to get in your pants. I promise he's not as creepy as he seems.'?"

"Not bad," I nodded thoughtfully. "Say that exactly, actually."

Kal sighed. "Why am I friends with you again?"

But despite Kal's feigned annoyance, he did exactly as I'd asked. Once the last stragglers left the lab, Randa walked out as well, spotting Kal and me loitering near the exit.

"Hey, Kal, what are you still doing here? Have a question or just hanging out?"

"Just hanging out," Kal confirmed. "Ran into my roommate and got caught up talking to him. But here: Randa, this is Ethan. Ethan, this is my TA, Randa."

We shook hands, Randa smiling at me warmly. I couldn't help but think that Randa seemed to share the same natural expressiveness that Mrs. Southard had... she reminded me of a younger, more Americanized version of my MILF crush.

"It's nice to meet you, Randa. And this is really random, but are you from Jordan by any chance?"

Randa stared at me, obviously surprised by my question, then she laughed incredulously. "How did you guess? Did Kal tell you?"

"No," I lied. "I've just known a few people from the Middle East. Actually had some qahwa with a lady from Oman just a couple weeks ago. The cardamom really adds to the flavor."

Randa raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but her tone was playful. "Uh huh. And because you know a few people from the Middle East, you just happened to guess that I'm Jordanian?"

I stared back at her straight-faced before grinning. "Nah, you were right the first time. Kal told me. I just really wanted to impress the very pretty TA in hopes that I'd wow her enough to give me her info."

Randa looked at me with a mixture of skepticism and amusement. "And how old are you, exactly? Are you a freshman?"

"I'm a freshman, yeah. Nineteen. But like a super-mature nineteen."

"Oh, of course," Randa laughed, before turning serious again. "But you know what? I'm feeling a bit generous today. So sure. I'll give you my info."

We exchanged socials.

"But I gotta run now. Kal, it's been fun as always. Ethan, it was nice to meet you."

She moved past us towards the stairway, giving me a great view of her ass as she walked away.

"Wow, I'm impressed," Kal said, nodding approvingly.

"You say that like I'm not a super charming person."

"No, I just meant I'm impressed that you managed to get through that conversation without asking for a hookup."

I frowned. "C'mon, Kal, I know you're super horned-up all the time, but there's more to women than just sex."

"Oh, well, thanks for educating me," Kal said, rolling his eyes.

***

I wish I could say that I reached out to Randa that night and catapulted my way into her good graces. But the truth was a lot more boring. We had connected online, sure, but we had nothing to drive further conversation. I didn't know what she found funny. I didn't know if there were any topics that she was sensitive about. I didn't know if she wanted me to initiate further conversation so soon or if she'd find it off-putting.

"What's wrong with you, man?" Kal finally asked me that evening. "You've been staring at your phone for like fifteen minutes and you haven't interacted with it once."

"It's funny, I thought asking for Randa's info would be the easy part. But now that I've got it, I don't know what the fuck to do with it."

Kal stared at me, clearly confused. "You didn't know any of your other girls either. That didn't stop you from pushing further with them."

"Yeah, but Randa's different. She's..." I trailed off, trying to find the right words.

"She's not just a hookup? She's special? She's girlfriend material?" Kal finished for me.

"Well, shit, now you've got me sounding like a respectable dude." I laughed.

But I realized something in that moment--Kal had a point. I didn't know why, but there was something about Randa that left me looking for something deeper than just a quick fling. It was bizarre--I'd barely even talked to her. What reason could I possibly have to be nervous about with her when I was so comfortable with other women? Hell, I didn't get nervous even when talking to a MILF like Mrs. Southard.

This was stupid. I was better than this. I didn't know what to say to Randa over text? Fine. I'd wait until next week to see her in person, under the guise of waiting for Kal outside lab. And then I could get a better feel for her and put this awful uncertainty behind me for good.

***

But Randa rendered my plans irrelevant. By the following Tuesday, I'd just begun to regret not reaching out to Randa sooner--would she have lost interest in me already?--when she surprised me with an invite.

Well, technically the invite was to both Kal and me, but I knew I was her intended primary recipient.

"So, some of my friends are having a party this Friday night. You two should come."

Kal and I responded simultaneously, my "We'd love to" merging with his "Well..."

Randa appraised us, her mouth twitching into a slight smile.

I looked at my roommate. "We would love to, wouldn't we, Kal?"

Don't ruin this for me was my unspoken thought.

"We would," Kal quickly agreed. "But with you being my TA, I wouldn't want to get either of us in trouble. Do you think the university would care?"

"Maybe if something illegal was happening, sure, but there's not gonna be anything illegal. I mean, I trust that neither of you would partake in underage drinking. You're both responsible students, right?"

"It's my middle name, actually," I said, earning an incredulous look from Kal.

"See? It'll be fine," Randa said. "And I can promise I won't be drinking either. So, there's nothing to worry about there. Besides, we're all pretty tight-lipped about what goes on after campus. No sense involving the college in our private lives."

Kal allowed himself to be mollified. "Okay, fair. And Ethan's right. It does sound like fun."

"Cool. I'll send you the details."

***

Everything seemed set, but after we returned to the dorm, Kal groaned.

"Oh, I can't believe it. I just remembered I promised my mom I'd help her paint the living room this weekend. Look, I know how much you want to go to Randa's party, so don't let me hold you back. You should go anyway. I'll tag along some other time."

"Why don't you come and then just drive home tomorrow? The party's Friday night. Even if we're up late, your Mom's not gonna be expecting you to help out at 6am sharp is she?"

"Actually, she does want an early start. I told her I'd be home Friday evening."

I briefly considered Kal's suggestion to go without him. It was true that I would have been just fine going solo, especially with Randa's company to look forward to, but still... it wouldn't have been the same. Besides, Kal could do things as my wingman I could never do alone.

And the party was only a mile from Kal's house. It was a coincidence that screamed to be taken advantage of. A plan quickly coalesced in my mind.

"Do what you gotta do, of course," I said. "But I've got an idea."

I paused for dramatic effect until Kal motioned impatiently for me to get to the point.

"What if you invite me to your house this weekend. Say I'm volunteering to help paint as a thank-you for your mom helping me with my assignment. We go Friday night. We sneak out after your parents go to sleep, walk over to the party--no waking your parents by starting your car--and then sneak back as if we'd never left. Then we get to painting on Saturday."

Kal nodded thoughtfully. "It might actually work. But wouldn't it be easier if you drove from campus, picked me up at home, then dropped me off before you went back?"

"You're assuming I'm gonna be in a state to drive."

Kal sighed. "I knew it was too much to hope for when you said you wouldn't be drinking."

"It's a party, of course I'm gonna be drinking," I shrugged. "So, does this mean you're in? You've been saying you needed to be more adventurous now that you're in college."

"Damn it. Using my own words against me," Kal laughed. "Fine. Fuck it. I'm in. Let's do it."

"Yeahhhh!" I cheered, slapping Kal triumphantly on the back. "This is gonna be fucking amazing."

Kal gave an exaggerated, but obviously fake smile. "I am absolutely gonna regret this, aren't I?"

My roommate's feigned reluctance aside, I knew it should be a fun evening. High chances of me getting lucky with Randa. But even if I didn't, I still could look forward to spending more time around Mrs. Southard the next day.

An absolute win-win scenario.

***

My initial impression of the party, though, was less than favorable. Considering it was hosted by a bunch of upperclassmen, I was expecting rivers of alcohol, closets full of couples making out, thumping bass lines... but it was none of those things, at least at first.

As planned, Kal and I carpooled to his house after dinner. We exchanged quick greetings with his parents--me fixating on Mrs. Southard's every move, of course--then ducked away into his bedroom. We hung out for the next few hours, mostly playing video games, until we heard his parents retire to their bedroom suite. We gave it another twenty minutes to be safe, but once we felt secure, we crept out of his room, slipped out the back door, and began our walk to the party house.

Kal was paranoid that he'd be getting a call any moment from his parents, demanding to know where he'd snuck off to, but it never came. By the time we arrived at the party, he'd finally accepted that we were in the clear.

But it quickly became apparent that the promised 'party' was really more of a 'hangout'. There were maybe fifteen people who'd arrived before us, but they were all quietly chatting--only a few with drinks in hand--while some barely-audible house music played in the background.

"Hey, you guys made it!" Randa said, noticing our entrance. "Let me introduce you to everyone."

Rather than have us go through all the other guests one-at-a-time, Randa did a mass intro, naming each of her friends and acquaintances in rapid succession before highlighting Kal and me.

"And last but not least, this is Ethan. Like Kal, he's a freshman, but he assures me he's 'like a super mature freshman'.

"Or in other words," I added, "Your typical freshman."

This earned me some small chuckles, including a much-welcomed one from Randa.

"Thanks for letting me interrupt you all," Randa smiled. "You may now return to your revelry."

The other guests obliged, picking up their conversations where they'd been dropped off.

"So, I'm glad you're both here," Randa said, turning back to Kal and me. "You make it away from the parents okay then?"

"Yeah," Kal confirmed. "They're usually dead asleep by now, so if I haven't heard anything yet, we should be safe."

"Since Kal took such a big risk coming tonight," I interjected, "I don't suppose there's anyone here we could set him up with as a reward? He'd be a great catch. Pre-med. Attractive. Future doctor. Funny. And did I mention he's gonna be a doctor?"

Randa laughed. "I'm sure we can find someone here who'd be interested. What about you, Kal? What kind of women are you into? Or men? I don't judge."

"I'm gonna make you sleep outside tonight," Kal muttered to me under his breath, before replying to Randa. "Why don't we skip the setups and instead worry about more important things. Things like... where's the bathroom?"

"Wow, scoping out the hookup spots already," Randa said, winking at me, before leading us deeper into the house.

Kal sighed. "I should have never introduced you two to each other."

***

My judgment of the party's tameness proved premature. Within ten minutes of our arrival, the designated alcohol-mule arrived; shots began flowing freely soon afterwards. Kal and Randa both abstained, but the rest of the crowd, myself included, rocketed past tipsiness into full-fledged drunkenness.

I vaguely remember Kal bidding me goodnight, saying he was gonna make the walk back home but urging me to stay and enjoy myself.

I remember having a chat with Randa until, unable to resist her any longer, I leaned in and planted a kiss against her lips. After I pulled away, she stared at me with an undecipherable expression, before suddenly excusing herself. I did not see her again that night.

I remember baring my soul to random guys I'd never met before, then listening to their own struggles, as if we were all brothers-in-arms rather than total strangers.

And I remember texting Mrs. Southard, telling her that she was beautiful both inside and out, and I was lucky to have met her. Then, feeling it necessary, I added that I'd said those things because they were true, not just because she was Kal's mother.

But that was about where my memory failed. When it picked up again, I was staggering down the road alone, heading back to Kal's house. The world was spinning and my mouth tasted like vomit.

Somehow, I made it back without falling into a ditch. I steadied myself as much as possible, wary of crashing into something that would accidentally wake Kal's parents up. Slowly, carefully, I crept around to the back of the house and the unlocked door that awaited me there.

My path took me by the master bedroom, and as I rounded the corner, I saw that the light was still on.

Panic sobered me instantly.

Shit! Why were the Southards awake? Had Kal and I been busted? Was I walking into a hell of a lecture?

But then I noticed the blinds had not been fully lowered; a small crack of the interior was visible through the window. Maybe I could glance in, peak to see if the Southards were just having a late night in bed... or if they were stealthily waiting for me to enter the house.

As quietly as I was able, I approached the window, then--hesitatingly--I pressed my face against it.

What I saw shocked me.

The Southwards were indeed still in bed. There were no traps set for me. But Kal's parents weren't just winding down.

They were having sex.

Kal's dad was lying flat on the bed, parallel to the window, giving me a view of his side profile. His cock was erect, jutting into the air--decent length but rather skinny--while Mrs. Southard sat by his feet, in the process of moving over his hips.

As shocking as it was to see Kal's parents being intimate, the most mind-blowing aspect was seeing Mrs. Southard for the first time without her coverings. No headscarf. No flowy robes. Not even underwear. Just bare skin.

Even with my mediocre view I could tell: Mrs. Southard was hot. Like exceptionally hot. Her bronze skin looked flawless and impossibly smooth. Her legs were long and toned. But her curves were what really took my breath away. Nice full breasts. An ass that begged to be taken doggy-style. Hips that defied sense. She had a bit of a belly thanks to motherhood, but she was hardly fat.

Of all the girls I'd ever been with, none of them compared to Mrs. Southard. I'd had the hottest woman of my life right under my nose, and I hadn't even realized it.

But before I could marvel too much at Mrs. Southard's appearance, my attention was stolen by her actions.

She took her husband's cock into her hands and began pumping it, whispering seductive words of encouragement. Even through the window I could make out some of them, especially if she happened to be facing me:

"You like that?"

"Does that feel good?

"What if I do this?"

It was something straight out of a porno. Not just her words, but her expression: sultry and eager, as if overwhelmed by a carnal craving... and her husband's cock was the only thing that could satisfy it.

Her husband didn't engage with her though, simply stared down at her with a vacant expression, watching her as she worked. I couldn't tell if he was bored or just so turned on that laying there passively was all he could manage. Whatever the case, Mrs. Southard continued her enthusiastic pumping--despite her husband's apparent disinterest.

And then she escalated. Leaning over his head, she opened her mouth and took her husband between her lips. She didn't waste time with slow teasing, immediately diving into an intense bob over his tip as her hands continued to work below.

I would have been losing my mind if I'd been in his shoes, but Mr. Southard barely reacted, simply tilting his head to the side to look from a new angle.

What the hell is wrong with you? I wondered. You've got the ultimate MILF giving you the blowjob of a lifetime, and you're just lying there like you're half asleep.

And yet, even then, Mrs. Southard's enthusiasm didn't wane. She continued to channel her inner pornstar, sucking and pumping, licking and moaning. After several seconds of this, even her husband's disinterested stoicism began to fragment; his hips began to pump against her mouth and hands.

But Mrs. Southard didn't spend more time drawing out his newly expressed pleasure. She suddenly released her husband's cock and swung her hips over his. With a quick move, she reached in front of her, grasped his length, and guided it inside her.

Apparently afraid to leave him unstimulated for any length of time, she began to ride her husband immediately. Up and down. Up and down. Her hands braced over his chest, pressing her boobs together even more enticingly. Up and down, up and down. She stared down at her husband intensely, as if willing him to acknowledge all the pleasure she was offering.

But still he lay there, staring at her with only mild interest. Yet Mrs. Southard continued to ride him with the same focused determination as if he'd been screaming her praises.

It was the most bizarre--and yet impossibly sexy--fuck I'd ever seen.

And then, despite his seeming boredom, Mr. Southard suddenly stiffened, at last opening his mouth in a satisfied moan. Mrs. Southard immediately stopped her riding, impaling herself totally on her husband's cock. Wiggling her hips sensually, she took his release until she'd wrung out every drop.

But then she did something surprising. Rather than move to pleasure herself--I'd seen no orgasm from her--or cuddle with her husband, she lifted off his cock, flopped face-up next to him, then pushed a pillow below her hips, tilting her pelvis upwards.

And then, without a word, Mr. Southard climbed off the bed and walked into their adjoining bathroom. He didn't even glance at his wife.

As I tried to puzzle this out, though, my luck finally ran out.

Mrs. Southard happened to glance at the window just as I was adjusting for a better look. It was dark enough outside that if I'd remained motionless she may not have noticed me at all... but her gasp and frantic scrambling proved that my cover had been blown.

Fuck!!

My earlier panic returned twofold, and I fled from the window. But where should I go? Part of me wanted to vanish into the night, find somewhere else to stay; make up an excuse to Kal later for why I didn't join him at his house. But I didn't have any better options.

That left sneaking back inside. But did I make a run for it now? Hope I could sneak into the guest room before his parents could catch me? What if they entered that sanctuary anyway? Would they kick me out? Just how good of a look did Mrs. Southard get at me? Was there a chance she hadn't recognized me?

Maybe instead of running for it now, I'd be better off waiting to enter the house. Let the scene cool off before I tried to enter. I might even be able to pretend I wasn't near their house when Mrs. Southard caught the shadow outside her window. I didn't really like the idea of killing time sitting in the dark, but it did seem safest.

And so, I crept down the street, found a camouflaged spot off the side of the road, and settled onto the ground.

Slowly, my heart rate returned to normal, and I began to mentally replay the events that had just occurred. The highlight, of course, was getting to see Mrs. Southard naked. It was magic how well she managed to disguise her body in public; if I'd known that's what she'd been hiding under her robes, I would have been obsessed with her from our very first meeting. Even as it was, I knew I would not be able to stop thinking about her anytime soon. Fantasizing about her giving head and riding a cock. Drooling over the memory of her curves. Imagining what it might feel like to run my hands over her smooth skin.

With a strong sense of irony, I realized I'd been so entranced by Mrs. Southard's naked body that it hadn't even occurred to me to masturbate while watching her through the window. A fortunate twist, though, considering how quickly I had to leave the scene.

But speaking of twists--what was up with Kal's dad? Just sitting there, acting bored by the whole thing? Maybe it was some sort of roleplay the two of them were doing, but it was weird as fuck. It was like he hadn't even tried to pleasure her, much less make her cum.

I wondered if that's all Mrs. Southard expected. Maybe that's all she thought sex was. If so, she was missing out on a lot. It was cruel in a way--that someone so perfect went so unappreciated. Sure, Mrs. Southard might have been married, but if Mr. Southard wasn't giving her the attention she deserved, maybe someone else should step in.

It was a burden I'd accept gladly.

There, in the darkness by the side of the road, I promised myself: I would show Mrs. Southard a real fuck or die trying.

After my commitment, I waited another hour before returning to Kal's house. The house remained undisturbed. No visible lights, although I approached from the other side of the house and wouldn't have seen them anyway.

Quietly, I crept to the front door, unlocked it as quietly as I could, and entered slowly. The door's weatherstripping made a bit of noise, but then I was through, door safely closed behind me. Recalling the layout of the Southard's house, I tiptoed my way to the guest bedroom.

I half-expected to find Mrs. Southard sitting on the bed, armed with death glare and judgment, but the room was empty. I closed the door behind me and sank to the floor with a heavy sigh.

I'd done it. I'd made it to safety.

Knowing my adrenaline wouldn't sustain me for much longer, I quickly readied for bed. Teeth brushed. Clothes off. Phone on charger.

But as I crawled under the covers, I couldn't stop remembering Mrs. Southard's bare body. Between that memory, my new commitment to seducing her, and the likelihood that she'd caught me staring through her window, I knew: our dynamic would never be the same again.

But if all went well, maybe soon I'd be the one sharing Mrs. Southard's bed. And I could show her just how deep my appreciation for her ran.