Olivia: The Hottest Mom Ch. 01

It was 1980, when punk rock was still a little new, and before New Wave surged onto the radio in my home town. Weeks before the summer, Insatiable was released to theaters, but of course not in that conservative suburban town, and I didn't hear about it until a year later from another freshman at my college. It was my first summer after high school, out in Contra Costa County, California, where it was hot every summer, and girls my age were dating college guys, and I wasn't one, yet. That summer, I had another graduation of equal significance.

I loved the naked pictures in my dad's skin mags, smuggled out from his nightstand and hidden in my room inside the Auto & Driver and Mad magazine issues on my bookshelf. They all featured young women, all of tantalizing legal age, with big hair and bigger tits, thick black bushes on most, even the blondes. Their hot bodies drove me to multiple hot jack-off sessions late at night, or early in the morning, or after school, or any time my still virgin prick awoke to the thought of being plunged into the pussy or mouth, or even just the palms of some willing girl, any girl at all. Still denied access to the sexy young bodies of women my age, I masturbated three or four times daily, well past simply eager to experience the real thing.

The local swimming pool, where we all joined the swim team, was an incredible hangout, where we practiced daily during the spring and summer months. This would be my last year competing, since I had turned eighteen in March. The pool was where we laughed and played and splashed around, eager, maybe even desperate, to get the attention of the opposite sex. The PA occasionally bawled out helpful hints, like "No running!" or "We're looking for a lost towel" and other announcements, both vital and banal.

The odor of tanning preparations and coconut butter warming on well-sunned backs and legs, mixed with the chemical undertone of the chlorine at the pool and the aroma of hot dogs cooking at the little snack shack, were the smells of my summers for several years. It was my summer home from the time I could swim, up through high school.

As I grew older, I noticed other things. The moms often caught our eyes, women in their late twenties with younger children, up through the thirties with kids almost my age, and a very small number just past their thirties, most of whose offspring were my friends and classmates. Here, covered by their bikinis and one-pieces, they lay under the hot California sun, baking themselves from May through mid-September, turning golden brown. I developed a covert eye for the prettiest of them, their full breasts, comforting and deep cleavage, and gorgeous rounded rear ends an attraction that I didn't tell my friends, who lusted after the ones nearer our age. I wondered how hot I would find these older women later in life, when I was dating or maybe married to one of them.

The hottest of the moms, before the term MILF was uttered fifteen years later in an infamous sex comedy, was Olivia, my best friend Jack's mom. Short but compact, her breasts were full, buttocks firm and round, belly flatter than any other mom at the pool. Long black hair, dark as midnight and as glossy as the photos we all wanted of her, draped down to her waist, clinging to her back whenever she climbed out of the water, head back and eyes closed, aware, we were sure, of the effect she had on all males taking in the incredible vista she presented. Once or twice, I masturbated to the mental image of her in a centerfold, smiling wistfully at the camera, secure in the knowledge every man wanted her, and every woman was jealous.

She was muscular, solid, and worked out at a small gym in the shopping district. She even showered there, and every one of us but Jack dreamed of peering into that stall while she soaped her magnificent tits, beautiful round ass and a pussy that, unseen, had to be something out of our wettest dreams. Olivia's natural skin tone was a deep olive, a legacy from the Italian side of her family, and the sun bronzed it to the color of dark wood, but supple and sleek, and we guessed it was probably silken to the touch.

Even after birthing two kids, she wore a bikini, black with purple, white and copper geometric shapes adorning the fabric concealing her breasts and pussy. Her breasts were full and large, and the size of her nipples, and how thick and luxurious the bush covering her pussy was, provided ample fodder for locker room chatter, and private jack-off sessions. She exuded sex the same way some women wore perfume.

Jack took his share of ribbing good-naturedly, knowing that his mom was the Hottest Mom, a title that she never knew about but was unlikely to ever lose. We wondered out loud if she had breast-fed him; he told us he didn't remember, and nobody pressed the issue. Having a hot mother didn't seem to make him uncomfortable, but he told us it pissed off his father, who lived in nearby Orinda with his new trophy wife, barely older than we were; they fucked nightly, or at least every other week when Jack and his little sister Carla stayed over.

Jack was working towards his scouting badges, eager to cap it all off before he entered the senior year I had just completed. Carla was growing into her mom's looks, but was only fourteen, still the annoying kid sister all of us juniors and seniors avoided. Jack spent a lot of time camping with the other scouts, and a few of my friends were scouts, too, leaving for weekends in the woods, studying their woodcraft, and maybe hoping to find girls skinny-dipping in a nearby lake.

To earn money during the last two years of high school, I had taken to doing odd jobs, mainly cutting old branches down and pruning trees and bushes, then bagging the detritus for the garbage man to haul away every Thursday morning. Mowing was a big part of it during the cooler months, but very little in the way of grass bothered to peek out from the dry ground and endure the regular hundred-plus temperatures of our summer months. I earned good money, and the occasional tip. One time, one of the fathers paid me a whole twenty for restaining their fence. Good money, like I said.

My mom called me downstairs from my room, the Monday after school ended, itself the week after Memorial Day, and I pulled on my pajama bottoms. I'd been sleeping, and my morning wood was still semi-hard, which I tried to hide. My mom's smirk told me I hadn't been entirely successful, and I felt my face redden as I turned away, trying to pretend she didn't know what I was probably going to do in the shower. Sometimes we forget that parents went through all of this too. She handed me the phone, which I took gratefully. "Yeah?"

"Cody?" It was a mom, then my brain registered it was Jack's mom.

"Yes?"

"It's Mrs. Nichols. Jack's mom." Her voice was matter-of-fact, all business, yet I swore I heard more in it. Blinking to get the erotic visions of the Hottest Mom out of my head, I said hello, then she spoke again. "I understand you trim trees and clean up yards?"

"Actually bushes." I must have turned beet red; my mom snorted merrily and headed out of the room, secure in the knowledge I could screw this call up without her help. "I mean shrubs."

She didn't seem to notice my inadvertent double entendre, or, more likely, knew that I was already punishing myself mentally more than anyone else could for that lapse. "Okay, shrubs. I have a number of them that need trimming, and then cleaning up the usual crap people throw in the hedges. I'll pay three an hour, and at least ten, if you can do it today."

I had nothing planned yet today, and told her so. "I can be there in an hour. Just woke up and I need a shower and to shave, Mrs. Nichols." There was no good reason to tell her that, but I felt like babbling inanely.

Her answer was soft and warm, and I knew I was imagining the wrong things about her. "Mrs. Nichols makes me feel old. Call me Olivia like your mom and dad do."

"Okay...Olivia." I arranged to be there around ten-thirty, and figured I could be at the pool with my friends by three easy.

It was a short walk to Jack's house. I'd been there many times, and didn't question my good fortune at being able to grab a job when Mrs. Nichols—Olivia—had an able-bodied son to take care of the yard for her, probably at no cost since he lived and ate there for at least one more year of school.

Olivia answered the door in a long robe, smelling of soap and some strawberry shampoo from a recent shower. "Cody! The...shrubs...are along the left of the house. Just trim then and square them up. Clippers are in the garage, and use the goggles. I don't want to send you home to Sally," my mother's grown-up name, reserved for friends, "missing an eye or a finger."

I studiously kept my eyes above her chin, wanting so badly to glance down at her cleavage, ask her to open the robe, imagining her gorgeous, tanned body in the doorway, naked and sexy... Without more than a slight tremor in my voice I was sure, I answered, "and the hedge?"

She nodded, happy I'd remembered. "The hedge too. Just knock when you're done."

I fetched the goggles, clippers and gloves from the detached garage, going in through the side door to grab them, and a few lawn bags. Then, I set to work, pulling dead branches and leaves out from under the shrubbery, and carefully trimming them flat afterwards, tops and front, with as square a set of corners as I could manage. The hedge in front was thick by design, and it occurred to me Mrs. Nichols, Olivia, could sunbathe in the nude in the front yard and nobody could see. My cock stiffened at that stray thought, and I ignored it as I pulled the trash, mainly food wrappers and a couple of glass pop bottles, out from the thick foliage. Then I squared the top, front and back of the hedge.

Stowing all of the garbage in four of the big green lawn sacks, I finished in just under three hours, and knocked on the front door. Olivia answered in a tube top and cutoffs, open-toed sandals on her feet. Her freshly-painted toenails were painted a deep, sensual crimson, and matched the color of her fingernails. I could smell the acetone of polish remover in the breeze through the front door, a sweet scent I'd always associated with my mother. Olivia stepped out and crossed over to the side of the house, nodding in satisfaction at the even faces of the shrubbery, and continued nodding when she regarded the hedge.

She pulled a ten out of her bra and handed it to me. "Ten dollars, as promised. A lot of lawn guys would stretch it out to four hours. I like that you're honest, Cody." Her hand darted into her bra again, and came out with a five. Her smile was sweet and indulgent. "For a good job, and not dragging it out. Thank you!" She turned, but not to the door, going to the other side of the house. Without preamble, she said, "Follow me, Cody."

Olivia led me behind the house to their pool, huge and kidney-shaped, filled with cool blue waters just like the ones at the community pool, the back yard surmounted by a ten-foot high white brick wall, solid and impenetrable to vision. I'd swum there at more than one pool party for Jack's birthdays, and a couple of times for Clara's (though her friends were also annoying younger sisters), and once for a big barbecue that happened the year before the divorce. A few pool toys littered the patch of lawn, next to the obligatory lawn furniture.

She turned to me. "Can you clean a pool? Just scoop the leaves and crap out, scrub the sides, make sure it's clean and fresh? No chemicals, I'll take care of that."

"Sure!"

"How about tomorrow, Cody?"

"Sure. What time?" We settled on the same time as this morning, which suited me just fine.

Both bills were still clutched in my hand, and I stuffed them in my pocket, mumbling a subdued thank you, and started on my way back home. It was not even two, and it gave me time to clean up, grab my swimsuit and towel, and head down to the pool with everyone else.

Just around the corner on the way home, I pulled the money she'd given me out of my pocket, hesitated, and took a deep sniff of the bills she had stuffed in her bra. They smelled like money, and faintly of some perfume I didn't recognize, a little bit of feminine sweat, and something else that I couldn't recognize, but later came to know. I walked on for about fifteen minutes, and was nearly home when I stopped cold.

My sunglasses! Shit! They were a pair of aviators, which I knew made me look cool to all the girls, and might get me laid someday. And they weren't in my shirt pocket. They'd cost me fifteen bucks when I bought them last summer, as much as I'd just made, and I wanted them back. Turning on my heel, I retraced my steps, at last stopping at Mrs. Nichols' door. A quick search of the front and side yards showed nothing, and I gingerly felt the bags I'd tied off, wondering if they'd dropped off into one of them, but there was no telltale feel of the flexible wire frames in all the woody trash.

Embarrassed, I knocked on the door, then again a minute later, before trying the bell. There was no answer, and it occurred to me she might be on her way to the community pool, or out shopping. I needed those glasses; going to the pool without them was as impossible as leaving my towel or swimsuit at home. Hoping she wouldn't think I was trespassing, I slipped the latch to look for them, walked around the corner and saw them neatly folded on the table with the umbrella, and headed for them, assuming I'd dropped them when she showed me the pool, and she had picked them up to give me the next morning. That's when I heard the water.

Surprised, I turned to the sound. It was the pool shower, and Mrs. Nichols was standing under the spray, water sluicing over her hair and body. She was naked, beautifully naked, and all thoughts of the community pool fled from my mind. Not even my hottest dreams could have matched this vision of my best friend's mother, totally exposed in the spray.

Her bottom was round and gorgeous, tanned, with a faint cottontail from sitting around the pool with the rest of the moms. It came to me that she must sunbathe in the nude at home a lot, and the look suited her. Her legs and back were trim and tight, and a deeper shade of bronze than her tush. A thin, also slightly pale line across her back showed where her bikini strap publicly lay against her wonderful skin. The most alluring thing was a tattoo on her left butt-cheek, a stylized old-fashioned sun with a lazy smile, peeking over the horizon. It was the best sunrise I had ever seen.

She turned around, hands rubbing water on her face, eyes closed, and I saw her bare breasts for the first time. They, too were paler than the surrounding bronzed skin, but still dark and exotic. Her nipples were even darker, large and generous and probably very responsive to being sucked and licked. Her lush, thick bush was a kinky forest of hair, a dark primeval jungle begging to be parted and explored. I looked at her without even being aware I was there, was in danger of being discovered.

She was perfect.

Then her eyes opened, deep and brown and sexy, and she looked at me.

"Mrs. Nichols! I'm sorry, just getting my glasses!" I grabbed them off the table, and gripped them so hard I thought I might bend the frames or pop the lenses out. I immediately turned away, and began to frantically hunt for the gate.

"Cody, wait." Her voice was calm, and not at all angry, and I thought that maybe she wouldn't call my parents, who would ground me for a week for having seen one of their friends' bare tits and ass. Even so, it took some effort to stop in my tracks. "Turn towards me, Cody."

That took even more effort to do, and I waited for her to stride over and slap me for seeing her, a parent, a mom, naked by the pool. Setting my jaw, I waited for my punishment.

Still under the stream of water, she smiled reassuringly. "It's okay. It's really okay, Cody." Every time she spoke my name, I felt a thrilling tingle all over my body, centered on my dick. I wanted her even more now, but that was impossible, of course. I felt poleaxed, and went utterly mute.

"It's alright, Cody." Her words were soothing, pleasant, pleased even. She turned to face me full on, dropping her arms to her sides as she showed me everything again, but this time not a stolen glance. She was inviting me to look, and I did. In a moment, she turned for me, assuming a couple of the tamer porn poses, at one point thrusting her tush out behind her, and gazing at me steadily with her mouth in an exaggerated "oh", puckering her lips in mock surprise. I took it all in, uncomfortably aware of my cock standing at full attention.

After a couple of moments, the ravishingly sexy and naked mother shut off the shower and grabbed a waiting beach towel, with a huge tiki or totem pole design I barely registered, on a cream background. Tossing the towel around her shoulders, she headed towards me, then past me to the table. Dark, wet footprints were in her wake on the white cement, and they faded quickly in the hot sun. She pulled out one of the chairs and sat down after laying her towel down on it, in the shade of the huge umbrella in the center of the table, still naked. "Please, Cody. Sit."

I took one of the chairs and turned to face her, still not daring to speak.

Droplets of water dripped down from her luxurious mane, coursing down over and between her bare breasts, and she looked at me coolly. I couldn't tear my eyes away, and she knew it. I looked up at her face, and she still didn't look pissed, or embarrassed, or, most amazingly, ashamed of being caught naked. "How do I look?"

"Pretty." That was the first word that came to my tongue. "I mean, beautiful, Mrs...."

"Olivia. You've seen my all nekkid in the pool shower, so you can use my first name."

"Olivia." It came out almost like a prayer to the dark-haired Italian goddess sitting regal and nonchalant in front of me. "You're beautiful."

"You've seen naked girls, naked women, before, haven't you?"

"Um...lots...um, no, only pictures..."

Her laugh was happy, not at all mocking. "All you boys look at girlie photos. All boys do, and have since the beginning of time. Men, too. Like studying a road map before taking a trip, right?"

"Um, right..." I was absolutely petrified at this point.

"It's perfectly normal, Cody. It's also good if you get used to the sight of a naked woman before you actually get in bed with one. Right?"

"R-right." I was certain someone would charge through that gate and beat the hell out of me, maybe my mom and dad for chatting with a naked neighbor, or her ex-husband would see me, and think I'd been naked with her, fucking her all night long, shooting cum inside her pussy, or between the pair of gorgeous tits... It would have been worth it, came a fugitive thought. My mouth went dry as she looked at me.

"Cody, it's cool that you saw me. I've been told I look pretty good naked, and I hear some of the dads talking about it between themselves. More than a couple of them would love to get me in the sack. Not your dad, though..." She hurried to throw that in, either because it was true, or because it wasn't. I couldn't decide.

She edged the seat closer, and looked down past my waist to my thickening crotch. "A lot of women appreciate a man who appreciates their beauty, especially if they're naked."

"I...know that." By now I was barely breathing, trying not to stare, trying not to reach for her, which she might have wanted me to do, if I were older.

"It's really okay. A stiff cock isn't scary. Kind of excites me."

"Oh?" It made an odd kind of sense that women, some women, wanted sex the way men did. Just not moms, right?

"Yes." She smiled again, this time a little shyly. "Did you like seeing me...all over, showering? It's been a while since anyone's seen me that way." She was starting to breathe hard the same way I was, not quite panting, but maybe remembering the last time she'd had sex. She was still the Hottest Mom, but I could almost picture her naked in bed, ready for my hard-on...