Comforting My Friend's Mom

Comforting My Friend's Mom

Love blooms with my friend's mom

Disclaimer: All sexual activity is between characters over the age of 18. Any similarity between these characters, and any other real people is entirely coincidental.

I don’t have a PhD in English or Writing. So, give me a break on English and grammar. I hope you like it.

This story contains various forms of sexual activity between consenting adults: a young man above the age of 18 and a mature woman. It also includes anal sex. If this offends you, please move on.

Guys being guys, my friends and I were always checking out the women, and typically we rated them on a scale of one to ten. It didn't really matter who she was, her race, her size, or whatever. No woman was immune from the rating scale, even our mothers.

My best friend was Greg. He and I, along with all our gang, were just out of high school, and were 19. Greg’s mom wasn't a woman most of the guys would rate very high usually averaged about seven among all my friends’ moms, but she resembled my mom. So, I guess that's why I was drawn to her. They say most men marry their mothers.

She was 39, had a button nose, pretty blue eyes with frosted, dishwater blonde hair styled in a bouffant straight out of the 50's, shapely hourglass figure, and a plump, breathtaking, bubble butt to die for, no doubt to make up for her lack of breasts. I guess that’s why most of my friends deducted three points from the perfect ten I thought she deserved. In any case, she also had shapely thighs, beautifully sculpted claves and small pretty feet. She stood about five feet three inches tall in her bare feet. She also had creamy ivory colored skin, but during the summer she spent a lot of time getting slightly tanned. All-in-all a very gorgeous woman in my opinion.

My friends and I liked hanging out at Greg's house. He had a basement that had been converted into a media room with games, big screen TV, and an awesome stereo system. There was a couch against the wall with a big picture mirror above it, two large comfortable chairs facing inward, and a coffee table in between for convenience.

The TV was in front of the couch so all could see, and there were also a few gaming chairs that were easily rolled around for the fierce battles we played on the various gaming consoles.

Plus, Greg didn't have a father hanging around busting our chops about one thing or another, and his mom, Patsy, would always serve us snacks when we were there. Sometimes, she'd even hang out with us, and drink a few beers while we played. She was a cool mom, and fun when she hung out with us.

When we were hanging out, I always made sure I was sitting in one of the chairs on either side of the couch. It made it much easier to see Ms. Day’s ass when she bent over to serve us snacks.

Damn! Did she have a great ass! Not to mention her gorgeous thighs and claves as they went all the way down to her pretty little feet.

Ms. Day always wore these little one-piece rompers that hugged her body nicely. They zipped up the front, had short sleeves, and the short legs were only a couple of inches long, if that, for displaying that breathtaking ass and thighs. She must’ve had several of those rompers because that’s all she ever seemed to be wearing around the house. She obviously knew how good she looked in them.

I didn't know anything about Greg's father. He never talked about him, but I found out later that his dad skipped out on them when Greg was just a toddler. They never really heard from him after he flew the coop, and they never tried to track him down.

****

Greg, along with me and all our friends, rode motorcycles. We loved the freedom. I guess you could say we had our own little motorcycle gang, but we didn't do any of the criminal activity typically associated with motorcycle gangs. We weren't that kind of gang. We just loved riding our bikes.

Greg was kind of a speed freak. Whenever he was on the open road, with little or no traffic, he'd gun it reaching speeds well over 120 mph. That was just too fast for my taste. So, sometimes he’d have to stop and wait for the rest of us to catch up.

Then came the day that changed our lives forever. Greg was riding on an unfamiliar road at top speeds when he came up on a curve. Before he could adjust, he lost it, and ended up in the wood’s unconscious, wrecked against a tree.

His injuries were severe, and he was put in the Intensive Care Unit as the doctors treated him. He was there for a couple of months. The first few weeks he was in a medically induced coma to protect his brain functionality as he healed.

Eventually, the doctors allowed him to come out of his coma, but, by then, the only people that came by regularly was his mother and me. I think our friends just got tired of coming by to see someone that never knew they were ever even there. By the time the doctors woke him, everyone had pretty much gotten on with their lives.

Once Greg was awake, it didn't go unnoticed that the only people he ever seemed to see were his mom and me. Sure, some of our friends would pop in every now and then, but not often and not for very long.

Greg's health seemed to be getting better for a short period. Then, suddenly, he took a turn for the worse. Although he was still conscious, he'd be in and out for short periods of time.

Then, while he was in one of his short lucid moments, he asked to speak to me alone, and sent his mother out.

That's when he asked me something that took me by complete surprise. He asked "If I don't pull through, buddy, will you look after my mom? You're the only one I can trust with this. Please take care of her. I know her, and, If I'm gone, she'll completely lose it."

I knew this was a big ask, and so did he. So, I thought about it seriously for a few minutes, making sure he knew I was taking it seriously, too. Then I said "Sure, I'll take good care of her. Don't worry about anything except getting better, and out of that bed."

Not long afterwards, maybe just a few days, he fell back into a coma for a few days before the doctors came in and told his mom that there was very little hope he'd ever recover. Fortunately, while Greg was in one of his short conscious spells, he gave the doctors permission to talk to his mother about his health in my presence.

That was a good choice on Greg's part because his mother completely fell apart when the doctors broke the bad news to her that there was very little hope. She fell apart in my arms. I held her in the hospital nonstop for two days until Greg finally gave up the ghost.

****

Once Greg was gone, his mom was a wreck. I stood by her throughout the ordeal. I even stayed in Greg's old bedroom for a while, which wasn’t easy for me, so I'd be available anytime she needed me, which was often.

I was with her when she made the arrangements for Greg's funeral. I even made a few decisions when it just became too much for her, and I held her throughout the entire funeral. I think some of her friends may have thought that was odd.

But, through it all, I kept my promise to my friend. No matter how tough it got, she always had me to give her comfort.

After a few of weeks, she was beginning to get back to her old self even though she cried herself to sleep most nights. So, I moved back to my apartment I shared with some friends.

One night, I went to check on her, and she invited me to go out for dinner and to watch a movie afterwards.

Throughout dinner she went on and on about how appreciative she was to me for my support. She said "I don't know how I would've survived without you, or how I can ever repay you."

I responded "You're a strong woman. You would've been fine, and you'll never need to repay me for anything. I'm just glad I was there for you, and, to be honest, I received just as much support from you as you did from me. So, let’s just call it even."

She said "You're so sweet. You're just being nice. You and I both know I would've never made it through without you. You're a blessing, and, by the way, I know about your promise. But you went above and beyond. You didn't have to do everything you did, and I appreciate it all."

I told her "Actually, I think I would've done it anyway. I never did anything out of obligation. As I said, you gave me just as much support as I gave you. Supporting you helped me out of my own pity party."

Eventually, we settled in to watch the movie, and she snuggled into me on the couch wearing one of her hot little rompers.

Once she snuggled in, I put my arm around her. Hugging her had become common, especially when she was crying, which was often, but snuggling her was different.

I realized about halfway through the movie that my fingers were touching the soft flesh of the exposed swell of her breast. My heart began to beat rapidly. It felt like it was about to erupt right out of my chest.

I think she felt my touch, but thought that maybe it was an accident. Or, maybe she just didn't want to spoil the movie. I don’t really know, but, at this point, I could no longer concentrate on the movie. All I could think about were my fingers on the soft, pliant skin of her breast.

Without thinking, I began to slowly move my fingers lightly up and down, feeling her soft flesh. As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop the movement. My brain was no longer in control.

I’m sure she felt the movement, too. She must’ve. My fingertips must’ve felt light and sensual on her skin, because I could feel the goosebumps rise on her flesh. But I assume she didn't really know what to do. So, she did nothing. For whatever reason, I’m glad she didn’t move my hand away.

As my hand trembled, I moved it slowly down her chest just a bit at a time until my fingertips were right at the edge of her romper near the zipper.

Ms. Day now had to know this was no accident. So, she reached up and grabbed my hand stopping it, dead in its tracks, but she didn't move it away. That was a good sign. I didn't really know why, but, when she touched my hand, her hand just stopped. She sat there holding my hand, in place, throughout the rest of the movie.

We both sat there watching the movie enjoying our intimate caress, as if this was something we normally did. As I got more excited, I had to move around just enough to ease the tension in my pants which didn't go unnoticed by Ms. Day.

My mind was racing as if the feeling of her soft skin was the most incredible sensation ever.

As I said, I could feel the goosebumps under my fingertips indicating to me that she was enjoying it, too.

Suddenly, the movie was over, and we both jumped up cleaning up our popcorn bowl and drinks from the coffee table mentioning nothing about our intimacy. I followed her to the kitchen hoping she wouldn't notice the bulge in my pants, but it was too late. She had already noticed.

Nothing more was said. We just washed the dishes, and talked, as we cleaned, about insignificant little nothings. Then, she told me "I used to love to serve you snacks when you hung out in the basement."

I asked her "Why?"

She answered my question with a question "Did you ever notice the big mirror over the couch?"

I said "Well, yes. I knew it was there, but never paid it much attention."

Then she said "Well, you should've. When I'd bend over to serve the snacks, I’d watch you check me out in the mirror. I actually loved the look in your eyes. It made me feel sexy like a woman again."

I said "Really?"

She said "You were the only one of the gang that ever looked at me like that. I loved it."

Finally, while feeling bold, I admitted "Well, I always thought you were... I mean are attractive."

She just smiled sheepishly, and said "Thank you."

Then, she just looked me in the eyes, and let the subject drop. Perhaps dropping the subject wasn't really her intention. It just took me by surprise, and I didn't know how to respond.

With any other girl, I would've had no problem coming up with a response, but this was my best friend's mom. I was only supposed to be there to comfort her… not flirt with her.

Later that night, she walked me to the door, we just looked at each other for a moment, and we said good night. Then, I headed home for the evening.

****

A couple of days later, she called me, and asked "May I treat you to dinner Friday night?"

I responded "Absolutely, I'd love to go out with you. Should I pick you up around 7:00?" I made it a point of sounding like I was accepting an invitation out on a date without sounding too absolute.

She said "That sounds wonderful!"

As the night of our "date" approached I became more and more nervous. Was that previous encounter a fluke, or was her response made with real intent? I floated that idea around in my head all week back and forth. I thought I'd completely lose it before Friday arrived.

Finally, the night had come for our dinner "date". I wasn't sure where we were going. So, I dressed in a nice shirt with dress pants and dress shoes. I wasn't too dressy for a club, nor too shabby for a nice restaurant. I was hoping to be prepared for anything. I guess that was the boy scout in me.

I arrived at her house promptly at 7:00. I nervously knocked on her door, and I heard a soft voice say "Come in. It's open."

So, I timidly turned the knob, and opened the door. I walked through the doorway, and down the foyer into the den.

There she stood wearing a strapless little black dress with a plunging neckline which exposed very little cleavage since she had very little to expose. Whatever she lacked in cleavage, she more than made up for with her ass. It was a magnificent ass, very few I’ve ever seen were any better. The bottom hem of her dress came below the knee on the right side, and angled up to about halfway up her thigh on the left side.

When I saw her, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. It was sort of like Roger Rabbit when he saw Jessica Rabbit.

Once I shoved my eyes back into my head, and got my tongue off the floor and back into my mouth, we greeted each other. I helped her with her wrap. Then I opened the door for her (a gentlemanly habit that I now have no doubt was created by men who wanted to watch women's asses as they walked in front of them.)

When we got to the car, I opened the door for her, allowing her to sit as my eyes feasted on her legs while she swung them around into the car. Then I closed her door, hurried around to the driver's side of the car, got in, cranked the car, and headed to the restaurant.

Once we arrived, I parked, jumped out of the car, ran around to her side, opened the door for her, and admired her legs as I helped her out of the car. I’m sure she had to notice the direction of my eyes.

After the maître d' finally seated us in the restaurant, I commented "This is a very nice restaurant... It's very dimly lit, and very romantic here in the back corner, Ms. Day."

She said "Just a 'Thank you' for being there for me when I needed you, and I think you can call me Patsy now."

Wanting to try out calling her by her given name, I told her "You had no need to thank me, but I'm glad you did, Patsy." She smiled at the sound of her name.

We both ordered the lobster, and she said "The lobster is always a good choice here. I hope you like it."

I replied "I've never had lobster I didn't enjoy."

Then, before our dinner arrived, we just sat and chatted about mundane, everyday issues.

Once our dinner arrived, we began discussing more relevant topics mostly about how our lives had been affected since Greg's death, but, once she started to get a little weepy, we changed the subject.

Now we were discussing how close we'd become actively avoiding the death of Greg. We kept the discussion more on the positive aspects of our relationship as opposed to the tragic reasons we were now so close, all while ordering a few drinks along the way.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as difficult as we may have thought keeping it on a positive note. There were so many positive aspects of our developing relationship. We'd become so close. Much closer than we ever thought we could.

Before we knew it, we were being asked to finish up because it was now the restaurant's closing time.

I got up, walked around the table, pulled out her chair for her, and she got up. Then, we left the restaurant.

When we arrived back at her home, she invited me in, not that I didn't already feel like this was my home away from home. She changed into one of her little rompers. We went to the media room, and she put on an old romantic-comedy "When Harry Met Sally" which was one of her favorite movies. We'd watched it together before.

At the perfect time, I turned to Patsy and brought my lips to hers. Our lips touched and I breathed in the scent of her perfume, her breath and the scent of her body wash. My heart stopped as her soft lips brushed against mine. We closed our eyes and melted into each other's arms. I felt her tongue slip across my lips as she moved it back and forth across mine.

I felt a spark rush through my spine. Unsure of what to do next with my friend's mother, but, even so, I loved the passion. I tilted my head and touched her tongue with mine. I was lost. It probably only lasted a couple of minutes, but it felt like forever as my heart began to flutter more and more with each passing moment.

Eventually, she pulled away as we locked eyes. At that moment, as I looked into her eyes, it was as though everything in my life, up to that point, meant nothing. This was going to change everything. I was both shocked and amazed at the sensations I felt through a single kiss.

As we looked into each other’s eyes, we said "Goodnight." Then, I left, and headed home.

That kiss was all I could think about that night as I tried to fall asleep. Before I knew it, the sun was shining through my window bringing me out of my mental fog.

****

As the following weeks slipped by, I began to spend more and more time "comforting" Patsy, but we didn't kiss again. As a matter of fact, we never brought up the subject. So, I assumed it was a one-off.

Then, she asked me to go out to dinner again, her treat, on Friday night at 7:00, and we planned on watching another movie after dinner. This time she told me to dress casually. We were going to an Indian restaurant we both knew. We both loved the spicey flavors from this authentic Indian restaurant.

As the weekend approached, I had gone by to check on her a few times throughout the week, and she seemed to be doing much better. She wasn't crying or even looking sad. Her spirits seemed to be much higher than I could remember since before Greg's death. She was getting back to her old self again.

I really began looking forward to our "date" since it seemed like it may be a more cheerful evening than we'd come accustomed to more recently. Indeed, my hopes were sky high for an exciting evening for more than one reason.

Finally, our night had come, and I was watching the minutes tick by as I got more and more nervous. I drove up to her house, got out of the car, stepped up to the door, and knocked lightly. I heard a voice from inside say "Come in," and I entered her home. A moment later, and she was coming down the stairs in a low cut knit top, a pair of tight, faded, jeans, and a pair of black sandals with three heals. She looked spectacular.

Then I walked her out to my car, opened the door for her, and let her in. I couldn't help myself as I looked down her shirt glimpsing an eyeful of her beautiful, creamy, soft, skinned chest.

I walked back around the car, and got in. Then, we drove off to the Indian restaurant.

It was a comfortable drive. We took our time, and enjoyed the sights along the way. We chatted about everyday things as we rode as though this was a normal thing for us to do.