Nothing You Haven't Seen Before...

"Oh." I'm going to buy this motherfucking place one day. "If she ended up owning North Beach Fishery, man, the sky's the limit." I hesitated, then went ahead and asked. "What is she, almost fifty?" It hadn't mattered when I was fucking her, but she hadn't been my girlfriend's mom when I was fucking her. Everything was different now, and as Daisy set her little mouth into a cute pout, I found I was holding my breath.

"Let's see." She was not good at math. "I'm twenty-two, so I guess she's... forty-five now?"

"Ah." The houses outside were growing steadily larger. "She, uh, looks great. You know, for forty-five." I hoped it was the kind of thing a caring boyfriend would say off the cuff.

"She looks amazing for any age," she snapped, not without a certain amount of reflected pride. "Honestly? I always wondered what she saw in my dad. I wasn't all that surprised when they split."

I nodded glumly and took her hand. "How long have they been separated?"

"Oh, I dunno. They were already snapping at each other three or four years ago." I sighed to myself. So she'd still been married when we'd been doing it. No wonder she'd always taken me to motels. "High school was okay, but once I went to college? Everything went to shit."

"I'm sorry." I squeezed her hand.

"It's okay. She's so much happier now." She whipped the car onto a nice cul-de-sac, lined with McMansions. "She got the house and half the businesses, and he's in a condo down on the South Side. So she wins, I guess." She squeezed back. "I love you, Keithie."

"I love you too, Daisy Duke." She'd told me her mom would get home around ten, and I wasn't sure whether I should be looking forward to that with excitement or with fear.

* * *

We got it on in Daisy's room as soon as we got there, mostly because she still figured her mom would put me in the guest room. "This might be our only chance!" But also because she confessed she thought it'd feel sexier, doing it in the room she'd grown up in. I had to admit I didn't really see the kink there, especially since the bed was just a twin, but that didn't matter much: when your girlfriend wants to fuck you, you fuck.

"Oh my god, I love you," she quavered as I thrust into her. The little bed creaked dangerously: I was really giving it to her. She always liked me on top, covering her, making her feel helpless, and it occurred to me as she spread her thighs and stared up at the posters on the ceiling that that might be part of the reason she wanted it here, in her childhood room: she had a wee taste of submissive in her. Or daddy issues; I don't know.

It didn't matter to me. I was balls-deep in a tight pussy.

For she was her usual tight, wet self as I plunged in, my lips sucking hard at her neck while one hand groped those fine little tits she had. Her body had always been so much fun for me, a playground she loved to use to give me pleasure, and tonight as she bucked back up toward my hammering groin, she felt great. "Oh my god," I groaned, my whole body going euphoric as I pounded her, "I'm going to cum..."

"Fuck yeah!" she whimpered, her body still languid beneath me: she had none of that whole-body tension she took on when she came, meaning I wasn't getting her there tonight. We'd talked about it before. She always loved fucking me, she claimed, even when she didn't orgasm, and I believed her. Her eyes told me she wanted me to get off more than she wanted it for herself, and most of the time that was fine by me.

"Do it on my chest," she yelped, and that was fine by me too; Daisy Schott was not a woman who felt comfortable with me shooting inside her, even when I was gloved up. And tonight I was bare, since she'd been pretty fired up as soon as we got to her mom's house and the rubbers were in my bag in her trunk. So I gave her a few more jabs, enjoying the warmth and tightness of her pussy just a few moments more before I pulled out of her and reared up on my knees over her squirmy body, my hand already tugging hard at my trembling dick.

She had just reached her little hand up to cup my balls, her face rapt as she focused on my head, when I exploded hard all over her neck and tits. "Fuck!" I sighed, my whole body lurching. I'd have been happier cumming inside, but as my semen smacked onto her flushed flesh I looked down at her ecstatic face, knowing she shared my joy, that she was as happy for my orgasm as she would have been for her own.

Goddamn. This girl was special.

I collapsed at her side, the narrow bed keeping us close, my hand reaching down to cup her pussy. I could sometimes get her off with my fingers after I'd cum, but tonight she took my wrist and moved me out of her still-wet vagina. "Just hold me," she whispered, her eyes hooded by heavy lids, and I marveled yet again that she didn't seem to need an orgasm to enjoy sex.

The woman was a sexual camel, storing it up for days without needing release. I respected that, of course (because that's what love is), but I couldn't really comprehend it. It was impossible for me to imagine fucking without cumming.

So I gathered her into my arms, there in her childhood room with my spunk gluing our chests together as it got darker and darker outside the dormer windows. And only then did I remember Evie. "What time is it?"

"Mmm?" She did not move. "Why?"

"Your mom is going to come home at ten? She'll find your room stinking of sex and you covered with spooge," I pointed out, kissing her forehead. "We might want to address those things?"

"You're no fun."

"I'm meeting your mother for the first time," I lied. "I don't want my first impression to be, 'hey, nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about you, and yes that's my cum on your daughter's chin.' That's not going to result in a smooth weekend, Dais, unless your mom is a whole lot cooler than I think she might be."

"My mom's cool," she grumbled, but at least she showed me where the shower was. And opened her bedroom windows.

* * *

I sat there with wet hair around 9:50, reading a Slavonic poetry commentary in the Schott living room, wondering how I was possibly going to play this when Evie came home.

We'd never gone to Ahab's very often as undergraduates, but one day my buddies Kyle and Ryan and I had found ourselves in the neighborhood with a giftcard and we'd stopped in. As usual, we'd spent much of the time gawking at the barristas, most of whom seemed to be fetching females with tights. "Dude," Ryan had whispered at one point, "check out that one."

"I have been," Kyle muttered. The two of them had been on the other side of the booth from me, so I'd had to twist around to get a look at what they were talking about. "That ass..."

"Yeah." Ryan had sipped at his latte. "It's amazing."

He was right, I'd seen at once, the woman moving with that pep and energy I always admired. She'd been a little older than I was used to, but the vibe she'd given off was less I am old and my pussy is loose and more I have experience and I will rock your world. I'd found myself gawking, then I'd turned back. "Nice up top, too," I'd observed.

"It's a hell of a rack," Kyle had agreed, staring shamelessly, and the uncouth asshole had still been staring when the woman sauntered up to us with a bright smile.

"Everything going all right, guys?" she'd asked.

"Oh yes," Ryan had grinned, "just great." Her nametag had said EVE. I'd let my eyes flicker down, seeking cameltoe, but her tights had been black like all the other barristas'.

"Okay," she'd nodded amiably, "but it's just that if you're going to stare at my butt? You should at least ask first." She'd surveyed us with a level look, almost a challenging one, but she obviously hadn't really been offended.

Ryan had looked at Kyle. "Okay," he'd shrugged, "then I'll ask. Do you mind if I stare at your butt?"

"Yes," she'd snapped immediately, "I do mind." She'd winked at my friends. "But he can." And I'd been shocked out of my mind that she'd meant me. I'd assumed she was merely flirting, being sassy, but then she'd scrawled her phone number on a post-it and slipped it to me with an inviting smile as I left. "In case you're interested in getting to know me a little better," she'd murmured in my ear.

She'd taken me to a motel that very night, where I'd fucked her five times. Five! It had been the start of an amazing month, a white-hot liaison that had left both of us exuberant and slightly sick of each other. But I'd never gotten over her sublime ass.

Incredible, that ass. Once, I'd offered to fuck her there. She'd rolled her eyes and begun fondling me. "You're way too big to go in my shitter," she'd chuckled. Fine by me; I'd done anal a few times, and I could take it or leave it. Instead, once she'd gotten me hard, I'd given her twenty minutes of solid missionary fucking, leaving us both completely wrecked.

And that had been the last night I'd spent with her. The end of a whirlwind month. I'd never gone back to Ahab's after that. And yet? Now here I was a couple years later, sitting in the woman's own house, on her own couch beside her own freshly-fucked daughter, waiting for her to come home from work.

Life can be pretty strange sometimes.

She bustled in at a quarter after, still with that same sense of pep and sass I'd noticed about her that first day, kicking the door open because she had a large tray in her hands. "Cookies!" she announced, smiling over at Daisy. "Sorry I had to work tonight, Dais."

"No, Mom, it's fine!" My girlfriend bounded off the couch and hugged her mom again, as fiercely as she had at the restaurant; they plainly loved each other, and I supposed going through a painful divorce was the kind of thing that had brought them closer together. I put down my poetry journal and rose, smiling, trying to pretend this was just a normal first visit to meet the parents. "Look! I told you I brought a boy home," she giggled.

"Yes, I saw him at the restaurant." Evie set her tray of cookies on the coffee table and looked at me with a carefully neutral expression, a quick glance up and down. "He's very handsome, Dais. You've told me almost nothing about him. Are you going to introduce us?"

"Mom? This is Keith Longstadt." She turned a radiant expression to me. "Keith? My mom, Eve."

"Hello there, Ms Schott." I stepped forward, my hand extended. "It's a real pleasure. I had no idea who you were at the Fishery," I lied.

"Nice to meet you." She waited coolly until I came within reach, then ignored my hand and spread her arms. "You're more than welcome here, Keith." Her hair smelled of the steam from many pots and pans, with an underlying musk of oil, but her body in my arms felt exactly the same as it always had: supple, full, womanly.

Sexy.

It was a full-body hug, with none of the awkward shoulder-touch bullshit a lot of mothers would have gone with. No, she was right up against me at once, filling me with her world. My goddamn dick stirred, the fucking traitor. "He is a handsome one," she went on, turning her head toward Daisy with a sly smile. The rest of her body she left pressed against mine, and I held onto her with a sheepish look toward my girlfriend. "Good choice."

"I know!" Daisy beamed. For a moment I thought she might take her phone out and snap a picture, but at that moment Evie's hand slid swiftly down to tweak my butt and I stopped thinking about much else for a moment or two.

"Well. Welcome to my house, Keith," Evie winked, her hand creeping off my ass more slowly than it needed to. I peered at Daisy to see whether she'd noticed, but she was grinning so much her eyes appeared crinkled shut. This was the best moment of her life, I realized with a sinking feeling in my heart: the man she loved was meeting her mother, and it was going well. "I hope Daisy has made you comfortable this evening?"

"Uh, yeah. Definitely." If spreading her legs counted as comfortable, anyway, and I certainly thought it did. "You've got an amazing house, Ms Schott."

"I've got an amazing guest bed, Keith," she snapped pointedly. She sent a glance Daisy's way. "You told him, right?"

"I told him, Mom." She blushed prettily.

"Want to share a bed? Put a ring on it!" Evie pronounced. I got the impression she'd said it many times before. Daisy had told me she'd had a number of boyfriends, and I supposed she'd brought them home. I nodded, hoping I looked like a polite grad student instead of a sex offender, but my smile had started to feel stale. Evie traded a few more pleasantries with her daughter, giving me the chance to take a breath and check her out...

...no. No. I couldn't. No way could I make eyes at Daisy's mom this weekend, no matter how many times the woman had taken my dick in another lifetime. I swallowed, looking away, mindful that I was already lumping the running shorts I'd put on after the shower, trying to think of something else but the two vaginas in the room, both of which I'd plundered exuberantly...

"Hey." Evie's voice, flat and a little impatient. "Are you listening, Keith?"

The stale smile came right back. "Sorry, Ms Schott. What was that?"

"You can have the fold-out couch in Daisy's dad's old office." Her full lips curled in scornful mirth; she'd always had an expressive face and a lax filter. "He's not using it anymore."

"It's a really comfy bed, Keithie," Daisy put in loyally. "Even my grandpa says it's great, and his back is shot to smithereens."

"No, he had that spinal fusion in the spring," Evie told her, and then they were off to the races about Grandpa Harold's gammy back, and I was thinking it was time for me to slink back over to the couch to finish my article. And ponder that ass-grope. I turned to go, nodding blandly, but the two of them were passing into the kitchen, plunged deep into a mother-daughter verbal ping-pong match. The sentences slapped quickly back and forth as they caught up.

So I pretended to finish up my article. And, when I crashed on the pull-out bed in the office, I found that the Schott women had not been lying. The bed was plenty comfortable.

* * *

I woke up with a nagging feeling of unease, apart from that usual sense of disorientation you get when you're sleeping someplace new. I lay awhile, pondering, burrowing to the roots of my discomfort before I figured it out: I had to talk to Evie.

I knew I'd been dreaming about her. I remembered nothing about it, but when I opened my eyes she was what I was thinking of, so there you go. And, of course, I woke up hard in my boxers.

The house was silent as I padded past the basement door toward the rear of the house. I could smell coffee from back there someplace, so naturally enough that's where I went. My fuzzy brain was still trying to figure out a way to get Evie alone for a chat when I swerved into the kitchen and stopped short.

"Good morning, Keith." Daisy's mom leaned against the counter by the sink, a huge mug of coffee in her hand. Her hair was a sloppy pile atop her head, and her smirk played across her mouth the same old devilish way it had two years ago. "Let me get you some coffee."

'Thanks." I'd woken up with the need to say something very specific to Evie, but here I was alone in her kitchen and the words were not quite coming. I watched as she turned to fiddle with the French press. "Sleep well?" She was in loose sweatshorts and a t-shirt; the shirt wasn't all that tight, but she wasn't wearing a bra and she jiggled as deliciously as she ever had. I'd told her once that her body was made for sex; she'd just laughed, then fucked me.

"I always sleep well. The water won't take long," she shrugged, "or you can have drip. But fuck drip, you know?"

"Yeah." I had no idea where to stand while we waited, so I made sure to keep myself behind the kitchen island. I strongly suspected she'd make me hard, and in my track shorts it had nowhere to go. "I, ah, was hoping to talk to you..."

"About the separate beds?" She looked at me knowingly. "Daisy knows the rules. No ring, separate rooms." She smiled. "I'll admit, though, I was surprised to see her still in her bed this morning."

"Like, what? She was going to sneak down to the office with me?" I chuckled.

"Why not? I would have," she replied at once, scooping coffee into the press.

I hesitated, the hanging fastball just sitting there over the plate, but my first swing was tentative. "She's not you," I shrugged. Then I took my second shot. "We'd, uh, already gotten it on. Before you came home."

"Of course you did," she laughed. "I know you, remember?"

And there it was, the quick surging lurch in my balls. She was effortlessly sexy. I looked down to make sure there was something blocking her view of my crotch. Ah. The pepper mill. "Just once, though."

"That's not like you, Keith," she said after a pause, glancing over. "You always had so much energy."

I swallowed as she took the water off the stove and drenched the beans. Her hands moved surely, confidently, as well they might: the woman owned a coffee shop. "I was, like, hoping to talk to you this morning."

"About?" She put the hat on the press without even looking, then glanced at the clock. "Four minutes, and it'll be the best coffee of your life."

"Just about Daisy."

Her eyes went huge behind her glasses. "What the fuck? She told me you guys have only been dating for like six months! You're not going to ask me for permission to marry her, are you?"

"Oh, hell no!" I protested, straightening. "No! I mean, we're very close, and everything's great, but no. I don't want to marry her. It's just that I didn't know you were her mom." She arched an eyebrow. "I'm thinking we shouldn't tell her."

"Tell her what?" Evie cocked one leg up against the cabinet and arched her back a bit. Effortless. I was firming quickly, starting to wonder how I was going to keep her from noticing. "That you once gave me three orgasms in one hour?" she smiled. "Or, that you came in my eye once?"

I nodded, nervous. "Awkward, see? I'm thinking she doesn't need to know any of that."

"Keith," she snickered, "if you think I'm going to tell my only child that I've licked her boyfriend's balls, then you're obviously high." She checked the clock. "Two minutes." She sighed, looking at me speculatively. "Why did we stop? It wasn't because I turned down anal that one time, was it?"

"Fuck no." Definitely, I was getting hard. It's impossible not to when talking about sex with a woman you've shared it with, especially when you figure out you still sort of want to. "No."

"Then why didn't you call me after that?" She stared at me, eyes big and unwavering, as I remembered three or four voicemails she'd left.

"I just..." I shrugged. "I was young. I probably went to a party and got laid. And I guess I figured it wouldn't get any better."

"What?"

"Like, we were smouldering? Every time? And we never did settle down." Sex with her had always been white-hot, no holds barred. I sighed. "I guess I didn't want it to cool down. Better to just end it."

"Good," she nodded, "I'm glad you didn't ghost me just because you couldn't have my butt. I wouldn't have wanted to think you were quite that shallow." We stared at each other for a moment, then slow smiles crept across both our mouths as the pun occurred to us. "Not that you ever were."

"No." I badly needed to adjust myself. "You always seemed, uh, happy with my depth."

"Oh, I was." She yawned. "You were probably right. To stop." I nodded. "I mean, I was still trying to patch things up with my husband at that point, so."

"Yeah."

She pushed firmly on the press, the coffee gurgling up. "And now you're dating Daisy. Will wonders never cease."

I cleared my throat. "I really like her."

"Good. She deserves that." She poured my coffee. "And at least I know her boyfriend can fuck her properly. Coffee?" She set the mug on her side of the kitchen island, meaning I had to leave the cover of the pepper mill. I took a deep breath, then stepped out to take my coffee. She saw it right away, and laughed coarsely. "Morning wood?"