All characters involved in sexual activities are 18 or older. Comments I have received on the Carrvale Cougar Club series included suggestions that I write from the other cougars' viewpoints. I think that might be a bit much for me so instead I'm writing from Liz's son Matt's viewpoint as he visits each of the cougars. This is how it started for him.
* * * * *
I wasn't usually in the house when Mom came home from a night out with the other four football moms, the only single parents who'd attended almost all, if not all, of our high school football matches, but the evening had been a bit of a wash-out, and Kevin Gilroy was sneezing all the time, so we'd packed up early and I was actually at home when Mom came in.
"Hi, honey," she said as she closed the door after letting herself into the house. "I thought you'd be out tonight."
I hugged her and kissed her cheek, my usual greeting if she'd been out for the evening. "I
was
out, earlier, but Kevin seems to have picked up a cold and was sneezing all the time, so we broke up early. Do you want a coffee, or a cocoa or something?"
"Thanks, sweetheart, but no. I think I'll have a whiskey." Mom always keeps a bottle of bourbon in the house, usually Jim Beam, and occasionally treats herself to a single malt, usually Scottish, her current selection being a 15-year-old Dalwhinnie, and a 10-year-old Laphroaig. She poured herself a Dalwhinnie, then turned to me.
"Honey, there's something we need to talk about, and it's serious, although it could turn out very pleasant for you. I know you're legally under age but would you like a whiskey?"
Surprised, but pleased, I nodded. "Please, Mom. I'll have a Jim Beam. You pour it, I'll fetch some water." And I was back in moments with a little jug Mom kept for exactly this purpose, water for adding to whiskey. I added a generous slosh to the glass Mom handed me and she added a small amount to her own glass. She went over to the couch and sat down, took a sip of her Dalwhinnie and set the glass down on the coffee table. I took my usual armchair, putting my glass on the occasional table beside the chair, then turned to Mom, who proceeded to blow my mind.
"Matt, honey, does the idea of sex with a woman of my age appeal to you or repel you? Honest answer, please, because it's important," she said, and I gaped at her, shocked.
"Yes, you!" was my immediate first thought, but I didn't say that out loud. I thought about it for a moment, but the idea definitely appealed to me. "It would depend on who it was, Mom, but in general the idea appeals. I reckon an older woman could teach me a lot about sex."
There was a notepad and pencil on the coffee table. Mom kept the notepad there for impromptu shopping lists and the like. She picked it up, passing it and the pencil to me. "Write me a list, please, of the older women living locally who you'd like to find in your bed. Widows and divorcees only, please. Let's not think about ruining someone's marriage."
"Are you serious, Mom?"
"Absolutely. Come on, honey, write me a little list, please."
"Okay, Mom, give me a minute or two to think." And think I did. Who, among the neighboring widows and divorcees, would I like to find in my bed? Well, Jane Wiest for one, my friend Tony's mom. And Molly Binns, definitely, even if only to see her impressive rack unfettered. Who else? Eloise Juarez, definitely. Hmm. Candace Winter and Ellen Trainor, they were both lookers, Candace only in her early thirties. Nobody else came to mind, but I took a chance and wrote 'most of all you, Mom' at the bottom of my list, and passed the notepad back to Mom.
"There you are, Mom, my list of the older women I'd like to find in my bed, ready for sex." And I sat back, waiting for the explosion, which didn't come, although Mom looked a little startled when she read my list. After a moment or two, she looked across at me and smiled.
"I don't think the last name on your list is going to be in your bed any time soon, but I won't completely rule out the possibility," she said.
"You mean, there's a chance?"
"A very slim one, but yes, there's a chance. Now, these other names on your list. I can see why you'd add Candace, after all she's only in her early thirties but her children are too young, and Ellen Trainor is out because she's childless. I think you have a very good chance of getting into bed with Jane, Molly and Eloise, and also Mary Weston."
"I'd forgotten Mary," I said, "or I'd have included her. Mom, tell me, please, what is this all about? Am I going to get the chance to fuck one of these women, or not?"
"Possibly all of them, not just one, but it depends on what their sons say," she said, grinning at the surprise on my face. "At the moment, or soon, Molly, Mary, Jane and Eloise will be asking their sons pretty much the same questions I've just asked you, except that the other boys' lists will include my name."
"Are you telling me that Peter Weston, say, will get the chance to fuck you, but I won't?"
"Sorry, honey, but yes."
"What's this all about, Mom?"
"We were chatting tonight and out of the blue Jane Wiest asked when was the last time one of us got laid. It was mostly a matter of years but one of us -- I won't say who -- said last week, then admitted it had been one of her son's friends. Well that got us talking and we came to the conclusion that we should ask our boys if they were interested in having sex with us older women. If they were, and I think it's a strong possibility, we should set up a rota that would give us all regular sex."
"I think it's a fucking certainty, Mom, excuse my French. Tony Wiest and I were talking about which of the women we know we'd like to fuck only last week and he said if he ever got a chance at you he'd be there like a shot. Have to admit, Jane Wiest is a tasty number, too, but you're still my first choice." I paused for a moment, then took a deep breath. "If I'm going to let these guys fuck my mom, I think I should be allowed to fuck you first. No-one but us need ever know."
Mom stared at me for a long, long moment, obviously thinking hard, then her face brightened and she said, "Matt, honey, have you got any condoms?"
"Yeah, Mom, two, I think. Why do you ask?" I said, but suddenly I was hoping.
"How long have you fantasized about fucking me?"
"Since I first found out what erections are for," I said, laughing.
"How often do you masturbate, and we both know you do, don't we? There are some things you can't hide from the woman who does your laundry."
"Pretty much every day, Mom. Sometimes twice a day."
"And when you do, how often are you thinking about fucking
me
?"
"Almost every time, Mom. Aunt Lucy occasionally, but usually you." Aunt Lucy is Mom's younger sister, just as good looking as Mom..
"Time I confessed, I think," said Mom.
"Confess, Mom? About what?"
"Masturbation. I masturbate, too. Not every night, but quite often, and when I do I'm imagining that it's you who is fucking me. Have done for about a year now, since I almost caught you jacking off one night and saw the size of your cock."
"Oh, wow."
"Wow is right, honey. I was impressed." She studied me for a long moment, then spoke, a little hesitant. "Matt, honey, if I let you fuck me you must promise me that you won't ever tell anybody."
