Eat Your Heart Out, Dude!

"Is Cara home? My name's Steve. We have a date. At least we HAD a date."

Tristan sized him up: slim build, around six-feet, dark, wiry hair, goatee and mustache. "My mom's not feeling well. Didn't she just tell you that on the phone?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "She did, but it sounded phony to me. Plus, she was rude and cut me off. So, can I come in? I drove forty minutes to get here and feel I deserve more of an explanation."

"Wait here." Tristan shut the door, then ran into Cara's bedroom and relayed Steve's message. "He's really pissed. What should I tell him?"

Cara held her head in her hands as if she wanted to scream. "Tell him to get the hell away and leave me alone. I'm not obligated to see him." She shook her head. "I don't believe this. On second thought, maybe I do. I've heard about all the nuts on Match."

Tristan ran back to the door. "She's not feeling well, pal. She wants you to leave. Okay?"

Steve stamped his foot on the concrete like a child in temper tantrum. "Let Cara tell me that. And the name's Steve, not pal."

"Don't make me call the cops. Now beat it."

He raised his voice. "We had a date, damn it! Forty minutes. Forty gawd damn minutes it took me to get here. The least your mom can do is meet me face to face."

Steve continued to vent, raising his voice loud enough to where Cara could now hear him. Now SHE was getting pissed. If not for Steve, she and Tristan would be going at it again. Disregarding her skimpy attire, she raced barefoot out of her room into the hall and then to the front door. "Step back, Tristan, I'll handle this," she ordered, and then confronted her would-be date. "Ya happy now, Steve?! Here I am. Now kindly leave the premises. I wouldn't go out with you now no matter how I felt."

Mouth agape, Steve stood in gawk mode. He'd seen just Cara's headshot on Match, and wasn't prepared for this, close to full frontal nudity of this voluptuous woman, her firm, shapely boobs visible through her nightie; her thighs, waxed smooth and hanging out like lollipops, big and delicious. Lowering his voice, he said, "Do you always dress like this in front of your son?" His eyes continued to flit over her curvy form.

Cara looked as well, thought his face bore a slight resemblance to author Stephen King. He wasn't bad looking, just maybe a little too tweedy-intellectual for her tastes, with that goatee and jacket, those dorky, black frame glasses, khaki slacks and brown tasseled loafers. She guessed this guy hadn't been intimate with a woman in who knows how long. She knew he didn't deserve to be teased. Still, she couldn't help herself, couldn't repress the naughtier side of Cara Brennan. Pinching the hem of her nightie, she lifted it above her thong, then began posing the way models did in those old cheesecake girlie rags. "Like what you see, professor?" She giggled watching his reaction, his eyes blinking, his tongue wagging.

He didn't look mad anymore, more like stunned and curious and hungry for something he knew he couldn't have. He looked past her to Tristan, standing there, arms folded against his chest, smirking. "If I didn't know better, you look like you're enjoying all this. If she was my mom, I'd be embarrassed as hell."

Tristan stepped forward and draped an arm around Cara's shoulder. "If she was your mom, you'd probably be doing what I'm doing."Cara grinned and gave him a playful poke in the ribs.

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Huh, huh, and what's that?"

"Something you'll never do, at least with me," Cara said. She gripped the edge of the door. "Look, I did what you asked, met you face to face. I apologize, okay? Now be a good boy and go. Sorry you wasted your time."

He tucked his hands inside his tweed jacket. His eyes narrowed. His face took on the visage of a guy in some nineteen-forties film noire, dark and suspicious. All he needed was the fedora. "You weren't sick at all, were you, Cara? You broke our date for some other reason. And if it's the reason I think it is, you and your son should be locked up. Have a good life." He made an abrupt turn, stepped off the porch and walked briskly to his car.

Tristan leaned out the door. "EAT YOUR HEART OUT, DUDE! Sorry mom, I couldn't resist." They laughed when Steve spun around and flipped them the bird before driving off.

"Now, where were we?" Cara said moments later in the living room. She began massaging her breasts. "Ah, now I remember. You were sucking on my boobs and I was hot and horny and nearly passing out with the anticipation of your manhood inside me, driving me insane, pleasuring me in that special way of yours. Mind if we pick up where we left off?"

Tristan, his cock on the ascent, tucked his hands under her boobs and began licking her hard nipples. Then, reaching down, he brushed a finger over her moist cunt. "Mind? I insist. Only this time let's do it in your bedroom."

"Sounds wonderful." She grabbed his hand and led the way.