I thought a lot after spending the first night with Carol. I mean, Jeebus. This was a woman who was my friend's Mother, my Mother's friend, a woman who had watched me grow up, had mothered me as much as my own Mother, and I grabbed her tits in the parking lot and then she fucked my eyes out. How had that happened? Since my ultimate goal was my own Mom, maybe I could learn something from this. The first key, I figured, was to have some sort of ice breaker. With Carol it was easy. Yes, we had all tried to grab her ass when we were teen-agers, and that was a funny thing to talk about. But it also was an ice breaker to talking about sexual desire and to acknowledge that I had desired her. It allowed me, in an innocent way, to let her know I still desired her. The second point I took from Carol was that when the mood seems right and you've laid the groundwork, don't hesitate to just go for it. I'm not saying to grope everyone every chance you get, but if the mood is right and the time is right and you think it will be well received,... I could have walked Carol to her car, said good night and gotten a hug, done nothing, and both of us would have gone to bed horny and frustrated. For my part, I couldn't believe how easy and quick it had been to get Carol in bed. I mean, it seemed to me that one minute we were laughing about the gang, and the next minute I had my hand on her tit.
Since Jim's dad was out of town for a week, I visited Carol every day. Our lovemaking kept its intensity, while our intimacy increased. We spent a lot of time just cuddling and talking and, on one day, we didn't fuck at all. We just lay there and talked. I learned a lot about Carol. She had an insatiable sex drive, and said she had always been like that. Who could have known? I asked her if, when we were teen-agers, one of us had made a serious pass at her, how she would have reacted. She seemed almost offended by that.
"Of course I would not have let you boys go any farther than an occasional feel, Bill. You were boys. That would have been so wrong. But now you're a man. When I saw you at the restaurant, I have to admit my pussy started to tingle. I wondered if you remembered how you used to brush against my butt. I'm just glad you brought it up, because I was afraid to."
Carol had made me think more of my own Mother, Tammy. Now that I knew more about Carol, I knew that with her sex drive she was a fruit ripe for the picking. But Mom? I don't think she had a sex drive. I remember hearing her and dad having sex when I was a little kid, but I had not heard that sound for years. Were they doing it more now that they were empty nesters? I didn't think so. She and dad were older now, and I guess they were just comfortable with each other.
And how to make the first move with Mom? I couldn't just grab a tit like I did with Carol. But what about Carol's suggestion? I had done exactly as she said. After leaving Carol's that first day, I had gone home and hugged Mom as Carol suggested. I didn't hunch against her, but I was hard and I did pull her in for a close hug. If she didn't feel my dick against her, it was not my fault. When I hugged her, I bent my head down and gave her a kiss right where her neck joins her shoulder, and said, "I love you, Mom." She shivered when I did that, and pulled away, but she smiled sweetly at me.
"I love you, too, Jim," she said, and then returned to her preparations for supper that night.
"I guess that didn't work so well," I thought to myself, but at least it did set a marker. For the past few days, then, I made a point of visiting Mom during the day since I was on a semester break, and every time I visited I hugged and kissed her. She didn't say anything, but she had to notice a change in my behavior. I had not avoided hugging her before because she always initiated it, but I was always stiff and held back. Now, I initiated the hugs, and there was no holding back from me. I pulled her into my body. She had to be feeling my dick.
We talked more too, Mom and I. When I visited, we would sit at the kitchen table and chat about everything. We had not done that so much, either, and she seemed to really like it. I don't know if there was a shot for me, but I was going for it anyway.
One afternoon I was driving around, still on semester break, and thought I should drop in to see Robbie. With our competing academic schedules we had not gotten together as much as we should have, and I felt a bit guilty. When I got there, Aunt Ellie told me Robbie was doing an engineering internship the next semester, and had left for Chicago already. She invited me in, saying, "I know you must be hungry, Billy. You haven't had Aunt Ellie's cooking in so long."
Aunt Ellie was the nurturing Mom. You never left her house hungry, and everything was delicious. Let's be honest. She spoiled us. If one of us said, "Aunt Ellie, do you have any coconut cream pie?," before you knew it, she would be baking a coconut cream pie. Every one of us, I'm sure, thought he was Aunt Ellie's favorite. Of course, I knew I was really her favorite. I'm joking. She just had that knack of making everyone feel special. She was full of love, that woman.
I was struck with one thing when she opened the door. Aunt Ellie wasn't ancient, after all, and she was pretty damned good looking. When you're a teen-ager, anyone 50 seemed ancient. But when I thought about it, my Mom was now 57 and looking good, and I guess Aunt Ellie was about four or five years older than Mom. I was kind of dumbfounded by her previously unseen beauty, and felt a little ashamed that we had never appreciated her looks. She was a solid woman who had maintained her figure. She had flawless skin, better than someone thirty years younger, and her once salt-and-pepper hair was now a stunning silver-white. It highlighted her face, which was lovely. What really set her off were those big blue eyes that seemed to twinkle with good humor.
She told me to go make myself comfortable in the den and she'd bring me something to eat. When we boys would gather at Robbie's, we'd all sit on the floor in the den and play video games. Aunt Ellie would sit in her favorite chair and watch us, cheering each of us on, and we vied to see who could be the one to sit on the floor at the foot of Aunt Ellie's chair.
She came into the den and laughed when she saw me sitting on the floor at the foot of her chair. "That's your special spot, Bill!" She gave me my favorite, a bacon and tomato sandwich, and sat down. We talked about Robbie and what he was up to, and I brought her up to speed on what I was doing. I felt bad that I had not visited her before. A woman who gives as much love as Aunt Ellie should be given love in return, and I had not carried my share of the load.
And dammit, Aunt Ellie was looking good. After I finished my sandwich, I leaned against her legs and said, "Aunt Ellie. Did you ever know why we fought so much to be the one who sat at your feet?"
She laughed. "You boys. Of course I know why. You wanted a chance to look up my skirt."
With that, I laughed, too, because she was exactly right. Aunt Ellie always wore dresses or skirts, and we could count on seeing some thigh if we played our cards right. Lars said he had seen panties once, but we called him a liar and, of course, he couldn't prove it.
I said, "I guess you busted us," and with an exaggerated motion I turned and stretched so that I could peek up her skirt.
She reached down and petted my head, saying, "I guess some things never change." I put my hand on her left calf and rubbed it gently. She didn't say a word, but gave me that loving look. Remembering Carol, I wondered if now was the time to take a chance, but damn. This was Aunt Ellie. Who could take a chance of hurting Aunt Ellie's feelings? Throwing caution to the wind, I put my other hand on her right calf, and rubbed. I didn't do anything way out of bounds, but just lovingly rubbed her calves.
"Billy, that feels good. You'd better stop, or I'll fall asleep right here."
I was sitting at her feet, remember, so I shifted my hands and gently pushed her legs apart. "You'd better not fall asleep, Aunt Ellie. I don't know if I could trust myself."
She giggled, but she didn't resist my outward pressure on her legs. She allowed me to spread them apart and, when her thighs were fully apart I said, "I want to see what Lars always claimed he saw," and looked directly up her legs. I don't know what Lars saw, but I could see her panties and that fat little pussy. I was entranced. When I broke my gaze and looked up to meet her eyes, she was looking at me intently.
"Honey, you don't want to look at an old lady like me. You must have college girls by the dozen whose skirts you can look up."
