Single Mom At The Waterpark

Things aren't easy as a single mom. I work hard at the office every day, then come home and work hard until my boys go to bed, then work hard getting things ready for the next day before I go to bed to rest up before the morning comes and I do everything all over again. The only respite I get is the occasional weekend the boys go to stay with their father, and even that takes a lot of work to prepare for, packing and homework (he won't bother with that) and whatnot. It's exhausting.

Don't get me wrong: I love my boys. They're my whole world. When I became a mom, I stopped living life for me and started living for my children. My ex-husband, on the other hand, continued on as he always was, loving his sons but never making them the priority over himself. Male prerogative, I suppose.

Between work, school, sports, homework, and meals, my time was pretty much accounted for, so forget about dating. I had my rabbit to keep me company when I needed it, and that was enough. I had no time for men; it was all I could do to find time to exercise and stay healthy. That was the only me-time I had.

One summer weekend, I took my sons to the waterpark. Their father was supposed to have them that weekend, but he'd gone out of town for work at the last minute. I understood, but it was still frustrating. The boys, being 9 and 10, were predictably devastated, so I wanted to do something special to help them get over their disappointment.

It was a beautiful Saturday at the park, warm, sunny, but crowded as all get-out. Lines were long, shade was scarce, and much of our time was spent dripping in a large group of people, waiting our turn to go down another slide. The three of us were having fun, though, so it was worth it.

My bathing suit was a conservative two-piece bikini, a holdover from my married life. There was full coverage on my backside, although the top showed off my ample cleavage in what I found to be a very flattering way. My breasts, if I'm being honest, had always been a highlight of my physical appearance, one of my better qualities. Gorgeous c-cups before becoming a mother, double-d's now. A little saggy from breast feeding two hungry boys, sure, but that's what the bikini top was for: hold them up and cover them up.

After a few water slides, my suit was soaked. This kept me cool, no doubt, but, as some of you women reading this can probably attest, walking around in an old, wet bikini can result in wedgies, especially when stairs are involved. Going down a water slide first requires climbing stairs, so I spent a good portion of my day waiting in line and digging wet bathing suit out of my crack.

One wedgie in particular felt particularly deep, and I was just over it by this point, so instead of pulling it over to recover my cheek, I tugged it straight out, stretching it out several inches away from my body. The warm air rushed in, feeling cool on my wet bottom.

It occurred to me as I was doing this that I was exposed to the people behind me in line, so I quickly covered myself up. I glanced behind me to see if anyone had noticed, and it seemed like no one had, except, maybe, for the guy right behind us in line. He didn't say anything, but he was looking at me with eyebrows raised. I quickly turned back to my children and tried to move on.

More stairs to climb, and more wedgie picking, was leaving me quite frustrated. Whether it was in my head or not, I could feel eyes on me. I tried to ignore it, but having bathing suit stuck in my crack wasn't something I'd normally tolerate. Then something horrifying happened: the next time I got a wedgie, the guy behind me picked it for me, digging his finger gently between my cheeks to fish the fabric out and carefully covering me up.

I whirled around and glared at him. "I've got it under control," I informed him angrily, not wanting to cause a scene.

He said nothing, but merely shrugged and continued to stand in place, the next in line after us. I wanted to block it out, but I was pretty upset that a stranger would touch me like that, in front of my kids, no less. As the line advanced, sure enough, my suit started riding up, working its way between my cheeks. I resolved to let the wedgie go, not wanting to draw any more attention to it. Soon, though, both sides had wedged between my cheeks, with me standing in line wearing an impromptu thong. I just knew he was staring at me, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction and pick it out again. So I didn't. I made it through the rest of the line with both cheeks showing, just to prove some dubious point.

I saw him everywhere throughout the day. It didn't seem like he was following me, because I didn't notice him behind me in any more lines, which I almost took as an insult. After seeing my bare butt that close, I thought, he

ought

to follow me around like a puppy. Unless, of course, he didn't like what he saw. But why wouldn't he like what he saw? I manage to stay fit. I'm not

that

old. My butt isn't saggy. In fact, I'd say it's pretty shapely. Most guys would kill for a look at a butt like mine.

He

was

kinda cute, though, in a Hallmark movie kind of way: mid-twenties with short, dark hair, brown eyes, deliberately groomed stubble, angled jawline, and abs. An eight-pack. Maybe he thought he could do better, I guess. Any time I saw him he was either alone or with another guy, so maybe he was gay. Hard to say.

Why was I giving him so much thought? I mean, it

was

kind of exhilarating to be touched like that. I hadn't been touched by a man since my divorce. And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed the bulge in his swim trunks a time or two, the lewd protrusion catching my eye anytime I looked his way. But he had

assaulted

me, so I shouldn't be attracted to him; I should be disgusted by him! Or maybe he was just a nice guy who genuinely wanted to help me with my malfunctioning wardrobe.

No. He assaulted me. And I resolved to lay into him if given the opportunity, to let him know that what he did was wrong and that

this

woman wasn't going to stand for such behavior. Just my luck, he was a few people behind in the next line we waited in, and I was going to get my opportunity to let him have it.

As soon as my boys and I had gone down the water slide, I sent the two of them around to get back in line, telling them I'd be waiting for them when they slid back down. Then I waited, not for them, knowing it would be at least an hour before they got to slide down again, but for

him

, the man I'd been noticing all over the park, the man who'd had the audacity to reach into my crack to pick my wedgie.

A few riders later and he splashed down into the pool at the base of the slide. As he climbed out, dripping wet, beads of water glistening all over his taut body, I approached him, trying to work myself up into a huff. "I need to talk to you," I stated firmly, sternly, like I was scolding one of my sons.

We walked away from the slide to a place with a little more privacy, not what I'd call secluded, but somewhere a lifeguard couldn't listen to every word we said, at least. He followed me without a word, eyes glued firmly to my buttocks, no doubt (the wedgie was back again).

"Is everything alright?" he asked when I stopped and turned to face him. "Your kids okay?"

"They're fine, thank you," I answered shortly. "They're in line for a slide.

You're

the one with the problem. You assaulted me back there! It's a wonder I haven't told anyone, gotten you thrown out or arrested."

"Oh, hey, if this is about me fixing your bikini, I'm really sorry. I'd usually come places like this with my ex, and she used to have all kinds of problems with her bottom. I'd fix it to keep other guys from checking her out, so when I saw what was going on with you, I just sort of adjusted it as a reflex. I figured you were here with your family and didn't need a bunch of dudes leering at you."

"A reflex? You expect me to believe that?" I asked, incredulous. "And I suppose you weren't staring at my bare buttocks when you were in line behind me!"

For the first time, he looked uncomfortable, not able to look me in the eye. "Well, no...I mean, your ass was right in front of my face, it was impossible not to. Well, not impossible, but

I

couldn't manage to look away. It was too beautiful, and I didn't know when, if ever, I'd get another chance to see an ass that spectacular so close up. So, yeah, I was staring. I'm sorry."

Now I didn't know

what

to do. He seemed sincere. Maybe he hadn't intended anything inappropriate. Maybe I was overreacting. "I guess I forgive you. You didn't mean any harm." I paused. "You think my butt is beautiful?"

What was I doing? Believable justification or not, he had still touched me without my permission. Why was I fishing for compliments, flirting like a girl half my age? Was I really so lonely that the first time I talk to a hot guy (at this point, up close, to call him anything short of just plain hot would be a lie) I give up all self-respect in the hope that he'll like me?

"Beautiful doesn't do it justice. I would've spent all day waiting in lines behind you if my buddy hadn't dragged me with him chasing after some chick he was into, just waiting for that glorious moment when one of your cheeks would pop out. I knows it sounds pervy, but it's the truth."

"Well...thank you," I said, flattered. It had been years since anyone had given this kind of attention to me. Even before my divorce, my husband didn't pay me much attention, he just expected sex when he thought we should be having sex.

"To be perfectly honest," he added, "if you hadn't been here with your kids, I would've been hitting on you constantly, asking for your number."

What was he saying? I was in my late thirties, 10 or 15 years his senior, and he was interested in me? A hunky, young man like him could've gotten the numbers of most of the pretty young things in the park. Why would he want mine?

"But because I have kids you aren't interested," I concluded.

"No, that's not it at all," he interjected. "I didn't want to interrupt your family day. No ring on your finger, I figured you don't get a lot of time to just do fun stuff with your kids. I'm a child of a single mom, so I have an idea what it must be like for you, working constantly, at home and at the office, everything you do for your kids, just hoping for an occasional moment of family fun. I wasn't about to interrupt that, no matter how badly I wanted your number."

I was speechless. How good his words made me feel only brought to light how lonely I really was. My sons were wonderful company, but I needed a man, someone to give me companionship. "My kids aren't around now," I said, calling his bluff.

"Umm.." He swallowed hard, fumbling for words. "You think maybe I can call you sometime?"

It was adorable how flummoxed he seemed all of the sudden. On second thought, though, was it such a good idea to give him my number? I knew nothing about him, other than how physically attractive he was. That would be enough for a man, maybe, but not for me.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh," he said, dejected.

I felt bad, like maybe I'd led him on. "I want to give you my number, I do...but I don't think my sons are ready to see me with a man who isn't their father. The divorce was pretty hard on them."

He stood there, sullen, for a few moments, then perked up suddenly. He looked into my eyes and grinned. "Your kids aren't around now," he pointed out, mimicking my previous statement.

I thought he was still trying to get my number, but I was set straight when he leaned in and kissed me, intimating that he was, perhaps, after something else entirely. The kiss was soft, yet insistent, his lips parting slightly as he pressed them to mine. I hadn't kissed a man other than my ex-husband in nearly twenty years, and my body tingled at the excitement of it. I felt beautiful, desirable, wonderful, like a woman, not just a mom.

I kissed back, opening my mouth slightly, allowing his tongue to slide inside and dance with mine. He edged closer to me and pressed his hand firmly against my crotch. I began to melt at the unfamiliar contact, feeling aroused as only someone who hasn't been touched in years can feel. It was forward of him, but he sensed the urgency of our situation, how it was time-sensitive. I probably should have been angry about it, him touching me again without permission, but I wanted to be touched, and the kiss I gave him let him know it.

"Follow me," he said, breaking our kiss. He took my hand and started walking briskly through the park. He led us to the changing rooms, knocked on the door of the family room, and, when there was no response, pulled me in, locking the deadbolt behind us.

Our lips met again, colliding with the passion of lovers who know their time together is fleeting. I fumbled with the drawstring of his trunks, struggling to untie the bow that held it tight around his waist, while his hands firmly caressed my bare back, holding me tight against his sturdy body. They slid downward to my butt, into my bikini to massage the bare flesh of my cheeks. As I finally loosened his string, he pushed his hands downward, tugging my bikini bottom with them, leaving my sex exposed to him.

I pulled his trunks off, taken aback as he sprung free from his confinement, fully aroused and impressive to say the least. I felt squishy between my legs, overwhelmed by how fast things were moving, how sexy he made me feel, and how desperately I longed to be loved, physically, by a man,

this

man. I reached a hand between us and grabbed it, sliding my hand gently up and down his rigid tool.

"I've, uh," I stammered. "I've not been with a man in a while." My breaths came heavy as his hands ran over my body, lifting my top off over my head, with some compliant movements on my part. Fully nude before him, this young, hung stud of a man, I continued my confession. "And I've never had a man as...

endowed

as you before."

He kissed me again, deeply, his hands exploring all I'd let him lay bare, caressing my back and buttocks, hips, thighs, brushing over my stomach to fondle my plump bosoms, all while our tongues swirled together in my mouth, then his, then back to mine. His throbbing member pressed against my stomach as he hugged me to his body, its swollen head nestled between my breasts. I wanted him badly. I had to have him, and I had to have him now.

"Take me," I sighed, letting him know I was his, for that moment, anyway.

His hands grabbed my hips, and he lifted me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around him as we continued our kiss, grinding against his stiffness as it cleaved the folds of my sex. I pulled myself higher, trying to take him into me, but he was too long, leaving me to slide my secret wetness up and down his pole.

He set me on the edge of the changing table and tore his lips from mine, kissing a trail down my naked flesh, lingering a moment to dip his tongue into my navel, his body between my legs, before kissing lower, lower, ever lower until, mercifully, he reached my secret garden, the hidden treasure I'd kept to myself for years, and he kissed me. It wasn't aggressive, but the tender, sweet, kiss lovers share when they want the night to last forever. Thank goodness I'd done some grooming of my area before going out in public wearing a bikini, because I would've been quite embarrassed for him to see the hairy bush I'd been growing since last summer.

"Ohhh," I began to moan. It felt unbelievable! I hadn't been intimately touched by anyone in years, and even then it was routine and mechanical. This didn't feel like that at all; this felt...special.

He took his time exploring me, licking me, probing me, kissing me in ways I never knew a woman could be kissed. All the while he massaged my hips, easing the tension between us, opening me to him even more, allowing him complete access to all I had to offer. His tongue touched me everywhere, between my lips and outside them, over the close-cropped hair on my mound, even plunging inside me, always dancing around my little button, teasing me closer and closer without ever even touching the spot we both knew would send me over the edge.

"That feels so good," I told him, stroking his hair, losing myself in how wonderful it felt to be with such a patient lover.

I squirmed and writhed within his firm grip, my hips unable to hold still as his oral attention nudged me closer and closer to my destination. My entire body felt warm, almost painfully so, as he devoured my sex and pleasured me with his well-practiced mouth.

"I'm close!" I informed him, wishing he would just kiss my button already, my body vibrating with pleasure and anticipation.

He didn't disappoint, going immediately for my love button, attacking my sensitive little nub with all he had, sucking, licking, even biting it, driving me wild each time he touched my c-spot.

His hands moved to my buttocks, allowing my hips to buck and sway as I was swept up in the rising tide of physical pleasure he had unleashed in me, kneading the flesh that had brought us together in the first place, the bare skin that had initially caught his eye.

"Ohhhhh," I moaned, my head lolling from side to side as the pleasure built to unbearable heights. "Don't stop! I don't want you to ever stop!"

His hands continued wandering, exploring my backside further, massaging deeper into the cleft in my buttocks. The deeper his fingers probed, the better I felt, wanting him to probe even deeper. Finally, after teasing my crack as much as I could stand, a single fingertip found my tight pucker. He didn't try to penetrate me. Rather, he simply held it there, pressing the pad of his finger against my most well-kept secret, massaging gently.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh!" I cried out, exploding, the ecstasy I felt too much for my body to contain. "Ohhhhh, God, yes!"

I tensed, limbs going rigid as I thrust my hips forward, grinding my crotch against his face. He didn't seem to mind, happily licking and sucking me as I pushed my pink pussy ever harder against his incredible, pink tongue. My body was overcome with bliss, orgasm bursting from my loins, coursing through every inch of my frame.

"Oh my God!" I practically screamed as his mouth kept at it, unrelenting as I came, becoming more sensitive with each swipe of his tongue.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!" I collapsed, shaking, tensed muscles relaxing as I fell back to the changing table having ridden his face as far as I could.

His mouth stopped, sensing I could bear no more, kissing me firmly one last time before he stood up. My butt felt cold and lonely when he removed his hands, his fingertip no longer pressing against my backdoor, but I soon forgot this sense of loss as his manliness rose into view, looming impressively large as it protruded from his well-kempt crotch.

"You want me to return the favor?" I asked, breathless, not ordinarily interested in performing oral sex on a man, but more than willing to satisfy this singular specimen with my mouth, especially after what he'd just done for me.

"How long do we have?" he asked, considerately taking my other responsibilities into account, responsibilities I had completely forgotten.

"A half hour at least," I told him, trying to regain control of my body so I could climb down and take him into my mouth.

He held me in place, rocking his hips back and forth, sliding himself through the crease in my folds, touching his masculinity to my

other

lips. "No time," he said, aiming his majestic, purple head closer and closer to my opening with each pass it made along my pink slit.

And then...bullseye! With one steady motion, he entered me, filling me completely with his stiff member, not breaking the rhythm he'd established.