Of Mothers and Milfs Pt. 01

Walt as lover, though, what would it be like? He's an extremely intelligent young man who excels in academics and has wide intellectual interests beyond school. Socially he's introverted but not excessively so. He seems to be well-liked at school but you couldn't really call him popular. Charlie says he hasn't had much experience with girls and shies away from approaching them. He's not particularly good looking, average I'd say, with a slender non-athletic build—not someone girls are going to drool over.

Amy paused for a moment, feeling a little guilty about that last thought.

No, that's not fair to him—he's a wonderful young man in so many ways. Creative, artistic, funny, kind-hearted, generous, extremely devoted to those he cares about, and...Amy suddenly realized for the first time, a natural-born leader, someone people willingly follow.

As she thought about Walt, the hazy image of him as a brilliant but shy and gawky teenage boy disappeared and in its place stood an exceptional young man, capable and wise beyond his years, and in her mind those qualities transformed him into a beautiful human being and an attractive young man worthy of any woman's attention. And she knew then that she would welcome him into her bed, a gift to him out of love and gratitude for all that he has done.

I would do this, I would take Walt as a lover...but only if Emily takes Charlie as a lover.

Amy picked up her wine glass, took a sip, and looked at Emily.

Emily's thoughts had gone straight back to the chicken fight and how it had made her feel. She'd been surprised not only by her body's unexpected response to Charlie, but also that despite trying to deny it to herself, she had welcomed the contact and been thrilled by it. In her mind she again looked down on him from her perch on his shoulders and felt her pelvis pressed against his neck and his thumb caressing her thigh, and she shuddered with a slight murmur of pleasure between her legs.

Even now my body remembers? She took a sip of wine.

God, Charlie's so handsome and virile...and he wants to make love to me. Why? Why would he be attracted to someone like me—not particularly good looking, unimpressive breasts, and certainly not very sexy in most men's eyes. But Charlie...Charlie wants me.

Their times together on the dance floor came back to her, the feel of Charlie's body against hers, the sensuous feel of his lips on hers and his tongue caressing hers.

Charlie wants me...me! and the impossible idea that she really might be beautiful and attractive pulsed through her, and her body shivered again. And she knew she would love having Charlie kiss her and caress her body and fill her with joy.

But should we do this? Amy and I would have to do this together...we both must want it. And Walt and Charlie must really want it.

Another sip of wine.

But what would it do to us, the four of us? We're not just friends anymore, Walt and Charlie, me and Amy...we're something more...but what is it? We're bound together by our pasts and our love and caring for each other. And now Amy and Charlie, and Walt and I are bound together romantically and sexually, and tendrils of those same connections are growing out to all of us.

Emily took another sip of wine. She closed her eyes and part of her mind and all of her heart whispered to her softly...you are one now, all of you...you are a single beating heart of love and unbreakable connection...

My god, Emily suddenly asked with surprise... am I embracing the polyamorous marriage concept?

* * *

Walt sat in the Broken Compass at he and Charlie's favorite table. He was surprised that Charlie was late, since they hadn't talked for nearly two weeks, both choosing to spend their time with their mothers. He was sure Charlie couldn't wait to talk about it, and to quiz him about Emily. It was only a few minutes though, before Walt saw Charlie grinning at him through the window.

"Hey, be right back," he said as he passed Walt on his way to get some coffee. Soon he was back and sat down. The two young men sat silently, sipping coffee and looking at each other with slight smiles on their faces. Charlie broke the silence.

"Tell me—"

"No," Walt said emphatically, cutting the question off. "I'm not going to give you a blow-by-blow." Then he grinned at his unintended double entendre.

"Shit man," Charlie replied, "it wasn't that...it's..." His voice tapered off. "...let's maybe come back to it later."

They again sat for a short time without speaking, and again it was Charlie who broke the silence.

"Well, tell me this—on a scale of one to ten, how was it?"

Walt laughed. "A hundred."

Charlie laughed too, a look of delight on his face.

"You and Amy?" Walt said.

Charlie would have said a thousand, but thought it might sound like competitive bragging, but even more important, he knew he would be thrilled if Emily were as every bit as delightful as his mother.

"Also one hundred," he replied. But the idea of Emily being a hundred reminded him of the main reason they were there and he looked intently at Walt.

"Sooo..." he said slowly. "What should we do now? You know...do we want to?"

Walt gazed back at him, thinking about the decision.

"You know," Charlie said after a few moments, "my Mom knew about this."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She figured out we must have made a plan to sleep with them. But she suspected there was more to the plan than that. Emily told her I had caressed her leg...shit, never told you about that did I?"

"No for Christ sakes, you didn't. You felt up my mother?"

"It was during the chicken game, after we knocked you and Mom over...I started caressing her thigh with my thumb...it wasn't really on purpose, it's like my thumb had a mind of its own." Charlie paused and raised his eyes to Walt. "And she didn't stop me for maybe ten seconds...then she just put her hand over mine and corralled my thumb."

"She didn't say anything?"

"No...and she didn't seem to be in any hurry to get down from my shoulders."

"Really?"

"Yeah...anyway, she told Mom about it and last week Mom told me she knew."

"Was she upset?"

"No...the weird thing is she was sort of teasing me about it. Then she started talking about all the dancing and kissing we did over the summer. At that point I guessed she had figured it all out...she knew I wanted to sleep with Emily and you wanted to sleep with her...that we must have made a plan."

"And she wasn't upset?"

"No, she seemed...amused."

"I'll be damned," Walt said, shaking his head. "My Mom knows too. I didn't want any secrets between us so I told her the whole story."

"And?"

"But then I told her we abandoned the plan and decided to...you know...help them start living again. She didn't seem upset by any of it and ended up asking me if I was attracted to Amy...it was actually more like a statement of fact. She could tell I was reluctant to say anything so she told me that she would be worried about me if I wasn't." Walt paused and took a sip of coffee. "So I said yes, and then we went home and...you know..."

"Wow," Charlie said. "They don't seemed bothered by any of it."

"Possibly not."

"Okay Professor, what do you think the odds of pulling this off are?"

"Mmm...not too bad I think, but nothing's for certain." Walt paused, then said slowly "Charlie, if there's any sign of reluctance, we call it off."

"Sure."

They both sat silently for a while envisioning a future in which reluctance did not exist.

"Okay Walt," Charlie finally said, "back to the question I started to ask. Can you just give me some advice about Emily?"

Walt looked at him. "You want a tactical exchange of advice?"

"Yeah, how not to screw things up."

Walt smiled. 'I'll try...but you'll probably find a way." Charlie glared at him with mock offense.

"Okay. First—watch your language. Mom dislikes all the typical slang words and phrases people use for body parts and sex. She thinks words used to describe love-making should be beautiful and poetic, no doubt because she's a literature professor. It's not that she's a snob, she just thinks the popular slang is unimaginative and crass, and even worse, some of it also doubles as insults."

"Yeah...I get it—cunt, pussy, asshole."

"So don't use them. I know it'll be hard for you, but see if you can get your troglodyte brain to think up poetic euphemisms...for example, try saying your lotus petals are lovely my dear instead of hey baby, you got great cunt lips."

Charlie laughed. "Thank you, my pathologically erudite friend."

"Any time. Now, fuck is an acceptable word for intercourse if you don't use it too often...and just follow her lead on other words."

"Got it. Anything else."

Walt looked at him, his face serious. "Be gentle...and make her happy."

"Of course...of course," Charlie responded softly.

"Now, what about Amy?"

A huge grin spread across Charlie's face. "She knows what she's doing, so just relax and enjoy it. She's very easy-going and kind of adventurous, so don't be afraid to suggest things. Oh, and she's very passionate, so buckle up laddie."

"Fucking wow," Walt said in awe, his eyes wide and a huge grin on his face.

"And I brought you a present," Charlie continued. "Something I think you really need." He reached into his backpack, pulled out a small paperback book and handed it to Walt.

Walt looked at it and read the title aloud. "She Comes First—the thinking man's guide to pleasuring a woman." He looked up at Charlie. "You're a thinking man?"

"Very much so, thanks to Valentina Jacob. You remember her?"

"Who could forget Valentina Jacob?"

"She found this book in her father's desk and gave me a copy."

"You and Valentina Jacob?" Walt asked in awe.

"Yeah, she was my first."

"Holy fucking shit, Charlie..."

"Yeah I know." Charlie picked up his coffee cup and drained it. "So, how do we do this?"

Walt thought for a few moments before answering. "You guys invite us over for dinner next Saturday. We'll grill some steaks and dine by candlelight on the patio."

"Okay, but then what?"

Walt smiled. "What we've always done...moonlight and dancing."

* * *

Walt stood at the grill tending to the steaks on a beautiful late August evening. Jupiter and Mars were visible in the clear dark sky, and a waxing moon floated nearly overhead. A slight breeze wafted gently through the summer air, rustling the leaves of the trees above.

Walt watched Emily and Amy setting the table and sending Charlie into the house to bring things. Both women looked especially beautiful to him—Amy in a flowing white cotton summer dress with a narrow neckline dipping between her breasts and wide ruffled straps over her shoulders that became narrow laces crisscrossing her bare back. She looked lovely and enticing, graceful and pure. A charming elegance marked Emily, wearing a white satin blouse styled like a loose button-down shirt with long wide sleeves that she had rolled up. Her dark blue silk pants were stylish and clingy, giving an alluring appeal to her shape and movements.

Charlie set the last dish on the table and came over to stand beside him. The two young men stood quietly watching their mothers.

"Wow," Charlie said softly. "They just glow in the moonlight."

"Yeah, they're so beautiful," Walt said, "so beautiful."

"They sure are," Charlie said a few moments later. "But don't let the damn steaks burn."

"Shit," Walt uttered and pressed a finger to one of the steaks to test its doneness.

"They're ready, hand me that platter would you?"

The moon was overhead when Charlie finally put down his fork.

"Passable steaks," he quipped to Walt. "...and Emily, this cake, wow...what do you call it?"

Emily smiled, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Scelerisque Peccatum."

"Sclere... what?"

"Scelerisque Peccatum, jock strap." Walt said with a laugh. "Chocolate Sin. I told you you need to know some Latin."

Charlie ignored him. "Your own recipe?" he asked Emily.

"My grandmother's, but she just called it chocolate cake."

Amy picked up her glass of wine and held it up. "Well, whatever it's called, here's to good food, fine wine, moonlight...and us." They gently tapped their glasses together in an appreciation of the food, the wine, the moonlight, and each other...especially each other, and took a sip.

"I have a suggestion for what to do now," Walt said, putting his glass down. "But let's clear the table first."

When that was done, he sent Charlie into the house to get his Bluetooth speaker. When he returned, Walt took out his cell phone and soon Adele's soft, passionate voice rustled through the air. Walt held out his hand to his mother.

Whenever I'm alone with you...

...you make me feel like I am home again...

Emily took Walt's hand, they embraced and soon were dancing slowly on the moonlit patio, holding each other closely.

...whenever I'm alone with you...

...you make me feel like I am whole again...

"I missed this," Emily whispered, "all of us together, dancing in the moonlight, magic in the air..."

...I will always love you...

...whatever words I say...

...I will always love you...

...I will always love you...

"I miss it too," Walt said, and gave her a soft, gentle kiss.

Nearby, Amy and Charlie danced in each other's embrace, so slowly that they barely seemed to be moving. Charlie caressed the soft skin of Amy's back and inhaled the scent of her hair.

'Look at them," Amy murmured in his ear, gazing at Emily and Walt. "They look so happy, don't they?"

Charlie glanced over at them. "Yeah, they do."

...Dream, dream, dream, dream...

...when I want you in my arms...

...when I want you and all your charms...

"They're in love," Amy said.

...whenever I want you, all I have to do is...

...dream, dream, dream, dream...

"We're all in love," Charlie whispered.

Amy gazed at Emily and Walt and pondered what Charlie had said. What does he mean?

"Mom", Charlie whispered a few moments later, "Does being in love always make a woman look more beautiful like Emily does?"

Amy lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him. "Charlie..." she started to say, but was so taken by his unexpected insight that at first she was at a loss for words. But then she found them.

"It's her inner beauty...you can see it now."

"Oh, Mom..." Charlie whispered, "that's...I don't know...really true, isn't it? Wow, I think I understand...thank you."

Walt loved the feel of Emily in his arms, her elegant petite body pressed against him, the scent of her bringing the pleasures of their love-making to his mind. He wanted her, always, but his eyes turned frequently to Amy, nestled in Charlie's arms. God, she's so beautiful...just luminous in this moonlight, and he loved her and wanted her too. Mom and Amy have to be happy with this or we won't do it, he reminded himself, to quiet the little pangs of guilt that occasionally stabbed him.

They danced in the moonlight, the four of them, enveloped in the beauty of the sky and stars and moonlight, and the joy of being together. Lost in happiness, they seemed to lose track of the passage of time, and the drift of the moon across the sky.

The words of one lovely song faded away and some seconds passed before another began.

Oh, my love, my darling...

...I've hungered for your touch...

...a long, lonely time...

Walt and Charlie exchanges looks across the patio. Then they began moving, guiding their partners, slowly, almost imperceptibly, in a circle around the patio.

...and time goes by so slowly...

...and time can do so much...

...are you still mine?...

Contented in the warm embraces of their sons, Amy and Emily were seemingly unaware of the movement. As the two couples slowly came closer in their mutual circling, Walt smiled with amusement, for he had suddenly realized that the Dance of the Forlorn Lovers he had created and they had performed before others foreshadowed what they were now doing. It's so strange, he thought, it's like this day was preordained. Is that why I created it? But how could I have known? But it's not the same, is it? We're not abandoning one for another, we're embracing all of us.

...and time can do so much...

...are you still mine?...

...I need your love...

...I need your love...

...God speed your love to me...

Walt kissed Emily's cheek then turned his eyes to Amy and Charlie. They were so close now that he could almost reach out and touch them. He saw Charlie's sparkling eyes, and Amy's back, silvery white in the moonlight.

...lonely rivers sigh...

...wait for me, wait for me...

...I'll be coming home, wait for me

He stopped moving, as did Charlie. They stood holding Emily and Amy, looking into each other's eyes. Then they stepped forward until the two couples stood facing each other.

Woah, my love, my darling

...I've hungered, hungered for your touch...

...a long, lonely time...

Walt held out his hand to Amy, and Charlie his to Emily, and time seemed to stop.

...I need your love...

...I need your love...

...God speed your love to me...

Amy and Emily looked at each other, and in a moment small smiles came across their faces. Amy turned her eyes to Walt and after a pause, reached out her hand to him. Emily looked at Charlie, smiled, and took his hand in hers.

End of Part I

* * * * *

I plan two more parts to the story. I haven't started writing Part II yet, but have a pretty good idea of what I intend for it. I can't promise you'll see it in the near future as I don't write very fast and am in awe of Literotica authors who produce excellent stories at a rapid pace. It took me almost a year to write Part I, but much of that was due to my long learning curve on crafting the kind of erotic fiction I wanted to write. (For an indication of what that is, note the words of Anaïs Nin that preface the story.)

I haven't put much thinking into Part III yet. What happens there will depend a lot on Part II, and if there's one thing that I've learned in writing Part I, characters and their stories have a way of exerting their own demands as you write them.

Special thanks to James Taylor, Elton John, Leonard Cohen, Lady Gaga, Celine Dion, Elvis Presley, Adele, the Everly Brothers, the Righteous Brothers, and of course Anaïs Nin, who is to me the greatest English language writer of erotic literature (including her own experience of incest with her father), and an incredibly talented and iconoclastic woman.

By the way, She Comes First is a real book written by a sex therapist named Ian Kerner. I highly recommend it.

Thank you for reading the story. I welcome your comments.