tagIncest/TabooMaking the MILF List Ch. 04

Making the MILF List Ch. 04

byContrasting©

Chapter 4

Mother's Friday


The whole week things had been weird. Mom and I could not look at each other. I am not sure what her issue was but when I did look at her, I tended to stare which led to sorting through the files of my memory; Kyla, Laura, my naked mother, all of which made me hard and I would have to retreat from public view till my pussy rocket followed the gantry back into seclusion where it belonged. I kept waiting for some sign that mother was weakening, that she needed hard cock and would take the colossal risk by bidding for mine. When she made no move, gave no positive sign and avoided my eyes, I began to obsess. By Thursday, I was nearly in a panic. I had seen mom standing at the kitchen sink that Friday morning in her robe and I fancied myself stealing up behind her and slipping hands into the robe and grasping her great melons and squeezing a sign from her that she wanted me and would have me. But I chickened out and went to school.

The guys planned to go to the football game; our alma mater high school was playing a big game away that night and we all planned to go and be rowdy and enjoy the game. Under other circumstances we would all be prowling for pussy but not this time! Then I got notice I had an advisor conference at 4 which would delay me at the college so I opted out. They went without me and ten minutes after they were gone, I got a text that my conference was cancelled till next week and then my phone went dead. Of course I did not know anyone's numbers so I could not call them to come back and get me and I did not want to make the drive alone, so I was stuck.

I immediately thought of Kyla and cruised past her house but there were a lot of cars there so they likely had something going on where I would definitely not be welcome. I did not turn around. I went by the Wills homestead and there were cars there also. I was about to go home and see if my mother was there but then I thought about Honeywell's. I knew Sammy's dad was out of town for two weeks and with Sammy gone to the game, maybe his mother was home. Perhaps this was my chance. I was so tense about mom, having something else to think about would be good. Well, not really something else, but someone else, at least, that would be good.

I had been thinking about the remaining MILFs on the list and the advisability of having all of them in hand, or more precisely, my cock in them all before informing my compadres that my mother was well and truly fucked. I was avoiding that confrontation because I was getting such a weird vibe from her and the prospect of trying to seduce Mrs. Honeywell pleased me much more than trying to figure out whether or not I could fuck my own mother. If I was going to do all the moms before I reported success to the guys, I needed to do Mrs. Honeywell anyway. Now seemed like an opportune time.

It was nearing six when I arrived and darkness was falling. I walked to the door and rang the doorbell. I had several contingent explanations for why I was ringing Mrs. Honeywell's doorbell on a Friday night. She opened the door.

"Hi, Sonny. You missed Sammy and the other boys. They are already gone."

"I know. I was supposed to meet them but something came up." I held up my phone. "My phone is dead. Do you think you have a charger that would fit?" It was feeble but when you wanted someone to know you had another motive, then curiosity invited participation. A flimsy excuse creates curiosity about what you actually do want.

Mrs. Honeywell stepped back. "Of course, come in, Sonny. Let me look." She did not ask why I did not just go home which was a positive sign.

"A, Mrs. Honeywell, am I interrupting something? Should I be going?"

She turned and smiled at me, at least when I lifted my eyes from where her ass had been to her breasts and then to her eyes, then I did actually notice she was smiling. "No, nothing. I was about to see what was on the tube or read a book. Nothing exciting. Sammy and Sam are gone so I am all alone." I followed her into the living room. She disappeared into the den. Mrs. Honeywell was a statuesque black woman, not the coal black of the African queen, the blended black of many American's which is so beautiful. Her skin was flawless. She was tall, nearly my height and looked me in the eyes in four inch heels. Her eyes were huge, wide but piercing, forceful brown eyes that never appeared hard, always friendly, open and intelligent. She was dressed in a black dress spangled with blue and green acrylic beads woven into the fabric which made it sparkle and shimmer as she moved, as the light shifted over it. It was cut low on her breasts, showing her ample cleavage. It hugged her ass. I liked it.

She returned with a charger. It matched mine and we plugged it in. I reflected that it would be good to have it in case my mother called for cock. I started to get hard and had to think about dirty socks and broccoli to make the bulge settle. If this was poker, I did not want to show my hand too soon; but then if it was poke her, I did want to show my head as soon as possible. I snickered. I glanced at the beautiful black woman in front of me and sobered right up. This was serious business.

"I was just having a glass of wine to end the week. Perhaps you would care to join me?

"Of course. Wine with a beautiful woman on a Friday evening? What more could a guy ask for?"

"Being with his friends at a football game?" Mrs. Honeywell suggested, with raised eyebrows. She got a wine glass and poured me some wine. Our families all knew each other and it was tacitly agreed that we could all get booze from any of the houses in question but the parents would never be faulted for it unless they let any of us drive. They all drove us home once in a while. But booze was just a pass time. Learning to drink in the friendly confines of our families and seeing how adults used alcohol taught us how to drink so we would only get drunk occasionally for cause, not because we could. We never drove after drinking even a beer since we were too still too young, but so were a lot of the soldiers in Afghanistan, which is just bullshit.

"Sonny? Sonny? Where is your mind?" Mrs. Honeywell held the glass of wine out to me. My mind had been elsewhere. But it was time to play the gambit.

I took the wine and smiled. Mrs. Honeywell was a big woman, not big boned but big, tall with broad shoulders but with a narrow waist which made her average sized hips look broad and her huge tits look humongous. Her ass though was unbelievable; it was a tapering ass which made her legs appear to be extensions of her back. Her hips were flared but barely though her narrow waist accentuated that. The profile of her ass, however, told a different story. When she stood straight, her ass curved pleasingly, the small of her back curved in and her broad shoulders completed the profile. I sipped from the wine glass and set it down. I stared into the rose color liquid hard, like I was struggling with something. I guess I was. I felt nervous, anxious. Mrs. Honeywell waited on me, sipping several times from her glass while she did.

Finally I looked up into her big smiling eyes. "Mrs. Honeywell, can I talk to you about something that is, er, personal?"

The happy glint in her eyes dimmed down several factors of intensity by worry. "Of course, Sonny. What is on your mind? Is something wrong?"

"Ah, well, sort of, Mrs. Honeywell, it is about, er . . . ." I stopped all together, stalling. My reluctance was real. Except for the fact I wanted to talk about it with her, wanted to get the subject open it was still exceedingly difficult to discuss sex with a woman.

"Yes?" She said, prompting.

"Well, sex." I said finally. "I need to discuss sex and, and, and relationships. But this is mostly about sex, I think but maybe not." I stopped again. Despite the fact I was working her, finding the right words was not simple which matched the situation perfectly, so being tongue-tied did not bother me. If I was a young man in over his head and looking for advice, being tongue tied would be perfectly normal and she would never suspect I was working to get her naked. Maybe she hoped, but she would not suspect me which would make things easier, at least I hoped so. Everybody does things better if they think it is their idea.

"Sex is important to us living, breathing humans, Sonny. What in particular has you bothered?"

"Well, I have gotten involved with someone and, well it is complicated."

"Does she already have a boyfriend?"

"Well, no, but yes really. Not a boyfriend so much as a . . . something else." I could not say 'husband' yet.

"What else? A girlfriend?" Mrs. Honeywell smiled then sobered when I did not deny it.

I decided on a different tactic. "Mrs. Honeywell, do you think that married women always have to have sex with their husbands?"

Now she did sober. I had said the word and she pounced on it. "Is this woman in your life married?"

I nodded, looking down at my wine in gleeful shame. I gulped some more of it. "What do you think about a man my age being involved with an older woman?"

"Who is married, you mean?"

I nodded.

"How old?" She asked.

I lifted my head and stared directly into her beautiful brown eyes. "About your age." I said softly.

This time, it was Mrs. Honeywell who dropped her eyes and gazed into the wine glass. I could only guess what she as thinking. I hoped she was thinking that she was that older, married woman and I was the younger man in the equation that would equal the double backed monster scaring the children. "Well, that is difficult. Marriage is difficult and when one or the other of the partners strays, it puts a real strain on the marriage. I do not think it is good for you to seek out married women; I think it is a waste of your life because they cannot offer you much."

Except an educated, hungry and voracious pussy; who was she kidding? I had reviewed what Sammy told us about her at the beginning and figured I had an even chance of shafting this goddess tonight before I went home. "You do not understand. She, she came on to me, kissed me the first time and pulled my hand up to her tit. She sucked my cock and then stripped and asked me to fuck her. Now she will not leave me alone. She is calling all the time, sending me texts, sometimes faster than I can delete them. I don't want anyone to see them. She says she wants to 'do it all' with me, whatever that means."

Mrs. Honeywell, listened but did not respond, sitting in thought. Finally she looked up. "Is the sex good?"

I nodded. "Fucking fantastic. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Honeywell."

Mrs. Honeywell smiled. "No matter. I do not know how anyone can have a valuable conversation about sex without being willing to say 'fuck' once in a while. Now listen, when it comes to married women, they can be demanding, you have to be clear with them what it is you offer and what you expect from them. Are you in love with her? And call me, Alissa, please"

"In love?" The question caught me by surprise almost as much as her request but I covered pretty well. "Well, no, Alissa." I tried out her name. It felt odd calling her Alissa but good at the same time. "But I do not want to hurt her either. I like the sex and she is teaching me lots of great things. Or letting me learn. She is not bossy or nothing, trying to be the great sex teacher. We are good together and we both come loads and have fun. But she talks about getting a divorce and living with me till we can get married, where would we want to live, that sort of thing . . . to tell you the truth it scares me a little."

"She is talking about divorce? Hmmmm. That is interesting. It is possible that you have tripped her trigger and she is intoxicated with having great sex again like when she was young. Do you know if she has had other lovers?"

I shook my head. "Not that I know of."

"Have you been with anyone else since you ah, got involved with her?"

"No." I lied. It was a good lie, if I understood what was going to happen, or could happen, it was the right lie.

"Do you want to?"

I hesitated just long enough to make the answer clear. "No," I lied again, "I do not want to hurt her feelings. She is really into me."

Mrs. Honeywell sat forward. "Listen, at your age, you should not let anyone lock you into something you do not want. The best way to keep a woman from thinking she owns you or you thinking she owns you for that matter, is to make sure you are with someone else from time to time. I would not suggest this if you were dating a single woman but where she is married, she has to know that and with the difference in age, she needs to understand that the point of your relationship is just sex. If she thinks she loves you, you will have to prove it to her rather than just saying it. She will not believe you. You should have sex with someone else."

"But wouldn't that be using them? Wouldn't that be involving someone else in a situation just like the one I am in and end up doing to her just what is being done to me?" The hook was set.

Mrs. Honeywell nodded. "Well, yes. You could look at it that way. In fact, that is a good way to understand it, so you should find yourself another married woman and get involved with her. Then the first woman will realize that she has competition for your cock but your heart is yours to keep."

I snorted. "Just where would I find such a woman, willing to fuck me just to help me out?"

"Not just to help you out, Sonny. You are an attractive man. Any woman would be flattered to gain your attention."

I finished my wine and stood up. Time to move. "Well, thanks for the talk, Mrs. Honeywell, er, Alissa." I said.

For a moment, Mrs. Honeywell stared up at me, shocked that she had been too subtle. She stood and came around the coffee table towards me. "Do you need to go already? The bottle is not empty yet. It is bad luck not to finish a bottle once it is opened."

She stood close to me. "I better go. You looked like you were heading out for the evening." I reached out to hug her. Her arm slipped around my back and the other around my neck and she pulled me close, nuzzling my chest with her huge tits. I was hard immediately. I placed my hands on the ribs of her back and patted her. But then I felt her lips on the side of my neck. Her hands pulled harder at me and her lips nipped at my neck in a decidedly more-than-friendly type kiss. A thrill ran through my body, paralleled by the knowledge that she was indeed volunteering herself for my use. I had to be careful and not scare her away.

I pulled back, but her long arms dangled on me, not holding but not pulling away from me either. "Mrs. Honeywell, I really appreciate you listening to me. This is not the sort of thing I can discuss at home."

"No, of course not." Mrs. Honeywell's voice was hoarse. She swallowed. Her eyes were gazing at my face and suddenly she leaned forward and pressed her large lips to mine. Her body clasped against me like a wet blanket. Her mouth was open and her tongue quested along my closed lips, touching and teasing, inviting and pleasing. I dropped a hand to her waist and pushed against her, separating us a little. Her mouth remained on mine and she moaned, trying to press herself against me. I relented and moved my hand to her hip while the other opened on her shoulder blade allowing me to pull her closer. I crushed her against my chest and I opened my mouth to kiss her deeply. Her head sloughed to the side and though we were about the same height, she ended up cradled in my arm while I kissed down on her mouth, clasping her tightly to my body.

I broke the kiss and helped her stand up again. "I am sorry, Mrs. Honeywell, if you did not want . . . if you meant . . . if I did not . . . Perhaps I should go?" I asked.

Mrs. Honeywell laid a hand on the side of my cheek, caressing it. "Sweet, sensitive Sonny. Be sure that I wanted you to kiss me." She leaned into me and kissed me again, her hands laying lightly on my chest and shoulder. Her mouth was wide open and her tongue flicked at me. I returned her kiss, placing both hands on her hips and tugging her against me. She melted against me. To make sure of the situation, I moved my hands down to her ass and clasped it, squeezing her cheeks. Mrs. Honeywell grunted in my mouth. Then she pulled back and gazed into my eyes.

"I think you may have found that married woman who is willing to help you out." She spoke with a slight lilt and then she was laughing, dropping her forehead against my chest. "Oh Sonny, you do not know how many times I have wanted to kiss you. You are such a desirable man! I always felt so ashamed when you would come around and my pussy would get wet just seeing you. When you take off your shirt, I feel faint!"

My hands began to rub her ass and she went silent which had not been my intention.

She looked up at me again. "God, kiss me again!" She breathed.

I did. Her head tilted so our lips meshed perfectly and our tongues tangoed and tangled. I squeezed her ass.

She broke the kiss again. "Fuck I love your hands on my ass, Sonny! Oh god, I want you so bad. Am I terrible?"

I grinned. "You are just helping me out, Mrs. Honeywell." I moved my hands up to the back of her dress. It was rough, harsh under my hands. I wanted it off. "You are being generous, Mrs. Honeywell." I said, fingering the hook and zipper. I smiled.

Mrs. Honeywell was staring at me as I unzipped her dress. She gasped when my fingertips brushed her cool black flesh. "Call me, Alissa, Sonny." She breathed, her eyes half closed. Then she pressed against me again, her huge breasts between us, communicating her panting passion to me in concert with her lips locking onto mine. She pulled at my lower lip with her lips and sucked on it, watching me while she did. I found her bra and released it, with some difficulty. Alissa's eyes widened a bit then closed as she sank back into our kiss, mouth wide open. We stood kissing, pressing our bodies together for several minutes, sharing the deep kiss. She shuddered and pulled back.

My hands had been idle, clasped against her bare shoulder blades, holding her dress up.

"I want you, Sonny! Am I a horrible woman to want my son's best friend?"

I shook my head. Sammy had been dead on, his mom did want me. She was going to have me too! "Alissa," I said slowly. "Tell me your best fantasy about us." Oh, my god I was inspired!

Her eyes lit up like I was offering her mink panties.

"This, kissing. You undress me in the bedroom." She giggled. "I guess I never thought about how we got there. I dreamed of kissing you, right here and the next thing was always lying on my back, staring at your hard cock as you get between my legs." Her eyes widen. "Oh. I am bound to the bed, my arms over my head as I watch you undress!" She spoke in a surprised voice. She started to say something else but I kissed her first. She melted into me again but this time I felt her loose bra between us, folding around her tits as it sagged away from them. When we separated this time, Mrs. Honeywell was panting.

I took hold of her shoulders and turned her so her ass pressed against my very, very hard cock. I was the luckiest fuck in the world! She arched her back, pressing that gorgeous ass into my cock. I touched my lips to her long, black neck and kissed her. Alissa groaned, a loud groan, with feeling. She squirmed in my arms. I kissed her again and she groaned again. I kissed up her neck, moving her hair out of the way with my nose, till I touched her ear. When my tongue snaked out and pierced her ear, she shuddered.

"Oh my loving Christ! She muttered. "I love having my ears kissed and sucked."

"I am going to suck something else, Mrs. Honeywell." I whispered. Her head tilted and I kissed at her ear. My hands, meanwhile, eased the dress off her shoulders and down her arms. It was a single piece outfit that came to her mid-thigh. Mrs. Honeywell was an attorney and knew the value of sex appeal in business and law and she used it. Her hands were laying on mine as I pulled the dress down. Then her arms straightened and I pulled the sleeves off her arms. The bra dropped and dress and bra fell to the floor. My eyes were closed but I wanted to stare at her beautiful breasts.

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