I was born when my mother was 43. She is now 67. My mother was a farmer's wife, very loving but a practical, no-nonsense kind of woman. When my father died, mother sold the farm, bought a small lot in a mobile home park closer to town and put a double-wide trailer on it.
All of my siblings moved 300 miles or more away from our area so it was pretty much left up to me to see to the things mother needs as she never learn to drive: The grocery storer, shopping, doctor visits, grass cutting and general maintenance, bingo etc.
I attended a community college and became an accountant in our small town.
"How are things at home, William?" Mom asked as she fed me lunch one day recently.
"If you're referring to Pat and my sex life it hasn't changed much." I replied, continuing my complaints about being "cut off" after our second child was born. "I have tried to reason with her until I am blue in the face. Having sex once a month is a real drag."
"I told you I could have a talk with her." Mom offered for the umpteenth time. "She needs to understand that a man has his needs."
"I appreciate it, mom." I replied. "But you know you two don't get along as it is and she might stop giving it up once a month, then what would I do."
A month later, mom and I were driving home from the grocery store.
"You know my friend Elma whose trailer sets across from mine?"
"Yeah. The graying redhead, right?"
"We were talking the other day and she told me that she needed a little extra money to help with bingo. I told her about you and your little dilemma and she is agreeable with $50 a pop." Mom related to me. Remember me telling you about her practical, no-nonsense attitude.
"I swear, mom, you're a regular matchmaker. You want to set me up like you did Becky two years ago?" I questioned with an incredulous tone in my voice.
"I explained that to you many times! Your sister needed the money for the children. Her tightwad husband knows only how to make children he doesn't believe in buying them clothes and shoes." Mom replied angrily, not aimed at me but at Buddy, Becky's husband. "If you hadn't been so damn nosy you wouldn't even know about it.
"He was your blooming milkman!" I cried, then calmly after a moment returned to the conversation at hand. "Elma is about your age, isn't she?"
"Beggars can't be choosers, sonny boy." She chastised. "Actually, she's 61, considerably younger than me. I figured pussy is pussy regardless of the age. And to be quite honest with you she seemed to like the idea."
"Well, you used the right word, beggar." I replied, in a disheartened tone. "I would be hard put to come up with more than $50 a month, which would help little with my desires. And $50 a pop! Do either one of you know how much pussy goes for nowadays? And by the way, no offense on the age thing, older women happen to appeal to me"
"Hey, that was her price. Back when she was a young lass a piece of ass did cost $50. I figure, if you can come up with $50 a month I can pitch in $150 a month, for a while anyway. I know what your desires might say but once a week plus whatever Pat throws your way will help, don't you think. Are you sure that wife of yours is not screwing somebody?"
"If she is, I don't know where she would find the time. Who the hell knows."
"If you're on board....... that's funny as hell........ I'll set it up. You take a longer lunch hour on Wednesdays, right?" Mom said. "Oh! You will be using my spare bedroom. Elma says her son drops by unexpectedly at her place and would be a no-no and you will use protection, no exceptions!"
"And where are you going to be?" I asked a bit alarmed.
"In the living room or kitchen, I suppose." She replied with little concern in her tone. "I'll keep the TV turned up a bit."
Wednesday rolled around pretty quick. I was in a good mood all morning and my cock remained semi-hard as I tried to concentrate on the numbers. I arrived at my mother's trailer five minutes before noon, and as usual walked right in. My mother and Elma sat at the table having coffee. Elma smiled and said hello with no hint of shyness or nervousness. I sit down beside her and lifted the Coke that was always waiting for me.
"I hope you're doing well, Elma?" I asked making small talk.
"I am doing excellent young man." She replied, placing her hand on my thigh.
"If you two wish to skip the small talk, don't mind me. I don't need to remind you, William, you're stretching your lunch hour." Mom said.
"Mary is right." Elma said, as she stood, waiting for me to stand and then started towards the spare bedroom. I followed Elma without looking at my mother, studying her ass as I followed. I heard the volume of the TV rise a bit as I shut the door.
The head of the bed sat on the right wall and Elma stood to the right of the bed, her back to me as she began to remove her plaid shirt, bra, short and underpants. She was already barefoot.
I began to undress having not touched a button yet. Elma understood my tardiness and spread her arms slightly and slowly turned in a circle for my appraisal.
"You're pretty woman." I said. "I love red hair."
"You really think so?"
I didn't have to lie. She was noticeably shorter than my 5' 9" frame. Although her hair was graying amongst the red crop on her head, the light bush between her legs was vibrant enough to make my hardening cock twitch. Her bare ass was bubbly and firm enough for me to want to get my hands on it.
I saw her gaze lock onto my erection as I finished removing my briefs.The gaze did not shift until I had closed the distance between us. She lifted her head and I kissed her lightly before suckling on her right nipple. I toyed with her ass with my left hand. Her right hand coursed through my hair as her nipple became erect. It was an indication, I hoped, that Elma would be more active and passive in this affair.
"I wish we had more time." I apologized with a sigh. "But I can only stretch my lunch hour so much."
"I understand." She replied, moving to take a position on her back in the middle of the bed.
