Seducing My Friend's Mom Pt. 01

Author's note: The concept behind this story is relatively straightforward, but my hope is to give it more depth than it normally receives. It aligns more with my usual style of slow burn with strong payoff. I am still planning on returning to my Fiancé Seduced by Roommate series... there's a lot more left to tell in that. But I wanted to hammer out this story first while the iron was hot.

And the usual disclaimers: all characters are fictional, similarities to real-world people/events are purely coincidental, everyone involved is of legal consenting age, etc.

Sleeping with your friend's mom. It's a classic setup... some would say played out. Especially in porn, where it's often a 'teenager' (mid-twenties male talent) playing opposite a 'mature MILF' (early thirties woman who obviously never carried a child) doing their best to pretend they have years of sexual tension built between them. Some videos do it justice... but most don't. Now, I get it—people generally don't watch porn for the realism—but take it from me, realistic friend's-mom-hookups can be some of the hottest sex there is.

And I'd know. I lived it.

Mrs. Carson was the friend's mom in question for me. I'd been friends with her son Drew since we were in elementary school, and growing up, I spent much of my time over at his house, hanging out and sleeping over. I didn't have the best home life—more on that later—and staying with Drew was more than a fun time... it was an escape. For their part, Drew's family didn't seem to mind the amount of time I spent at their house; they warmly welcomed me every time I visited. There were four of them: Drew, Drew's sister (who's not relevant to this story), and Drew's parents. Drew's dad (Mr. Carson) was on the older side and generally distant from me, but he was friendly enough. Drew's mom, on the other hand...

Mrs. Carson was an attractive woman. I knew it from the first time I met her, even though I was too young to understand what attraction was. She was easy to look at and be around, unlike the gross and stuffy lady teachers at school. As I grew older, I began to realize it wasn't just Mrs. Carson's relative youth or demeanor that drew me to her... there was something more. Eventually I learned the word to capture this elusive description: Mrs. Carson was sexy.

She was on the taller side, around 5' 8", with long black hair that cascaded down to her lower back. Her face had started to show her years, but Mrs. Carson's large brown eyes and lightly freckled face were alluring nonetheless. Plus, the more time I spent around Mrs. Carson, the more I grew to view her face's maturity as a positive feature, rather than a negative one.

But Mrs. Carson's body was unquestionably her best feature. Her curves were perfectly proportioned, with sizeable breasts and a full ass, often on full display in her choice of semi-tight t-shirts and jeans. She nailed the balance between casualness and sexiness, a look no doubt perfected over decades. To be sure, Mrs. Carson had some extra padding after giving birth to two kids, but she'd distributed it well.

But there was something else that drew me to Mrs. Carson. It took me a while to identify, and even once I did, I still didn't quite understand why I found it attractive. Even now, I'm still not sure.

Mrs. Carson had a sexy walk. Yes, I know that's not usually the first thing that comes to mind when someone pictures sexiness, but there's no other way to describe it. It wasn't a model-walk or a stripper-walk. In fact, it wasn't deliberately provocative in any way. But whenever Mrs. Carson moved through a room, it always caught my eye.

My best guess is that Mrs. Carson's walk was sexy because it highlighted her flexibility and fitness. She moved quickly but effortlessly; full strides that emphasized her toned legs and ass. If you saw Mrs. Carson from a distance, based on her gait alone, you'd assume she was in her twenties. But by the time I turned eighteen, Mrs. Carson was forty.

Growing up around a MILF like Mrs. Carson was a double-edged sword. The upsides were obvious—she was terrific eye candy, and once I discovered masturbation, she was a regular guest in my fantasies. But there were downsides too. Drew wasn't oblivious to my attraction, and until I learned to better control my infatuation, it was a source of friction between us. Once I made a poor-taste comment to Drew about his mom, and he did not take it well. Our disagreement escalated and Drew kicked me out of his house. We made up after, but I was careful not to repeat that mistake again.

Still, even hidden, my crush on Mrs. Carson never went away. But there were cycles to it: She'd be at the top of my highlight reel for days or weeks, but then I'd find another woman (or girl my age) to fixate on instead. Sooner or later, though, Mrs. Carson would catch my attention again and I'd be head-over-heels once more. This cycle repeated year after year as I grew up around her. I moved from awkward middle schooler to confident high schooler... and finally, a senior and legal adult.

Once I turned eighteen, my fantasies about Mrs. Carson developed a new depth. Even though they were still fantasies, they were now plausible. After all, (legally-speaking) I was no longer a child, so Mrs. Carson and I could finally hook up. In my head, years of fantasizing had convinced me that if I caught Mrs. Carson at the right time and I said the right things, then I'd be able to seduce her. And I had a year left of high school—plenty of time to make my move before college.

I needed to be careful though. I didn't want to risk my friendship with Drew again. He was still my best friend, and even a fling with Mrs. Carson would lose its luster if Drew never spoke to me after. The trick was to spend time with her away from Drew. But how to do that?

One factor that worked in my favor was that Mrs. Carson was a stay-at-home mom. I didn't fully understand what Mr. Carson did, but I knew it involved business real estate and that it made him a fair amount of money. Enough money to support a single-income family-of-four, at least.

And so, as my final year of high school started, I made a strong push to have as many run ins with Mrs. Carson as possible. It wasn't easy; despite visiting his house frequently, Drew and I spent less time there than we had in the past. Now that we were both driving age, it was more common to meet up at his place just long enough to carpool somewhere else. I almost never saw Mrs. Carson during these excursions.

Fortunately, we didn't abandon Drew's house completely. If there was a movie to watch, video games to play, or sports to follow, we'd hang at his house like old times. I could see more of Mrs. Carson on these days, but even then, I didn't feel like I made much progress. I had several 'accidental' run-ins with her, but these encounters were inevitably disappointing.

I tried a few approaches. At first, I turned on the charm, complimenting her looks or choice of clothes: "You're looking awfully pretty this morning, Mrs. Carson", "that shirt looks great on you", and so on. Mrs. Carson seemed surprised by my forwardness, but she adapted quickly, taking future comments in quiet stride. She'd thank me for the compliments... and return to whatever she'd been doing before. I couldn't tell if her indifference to me was real or feigned, and so I adjusted my tactics.

I kept up my compliments but began striking up small conversations with her too. I'd ask about her day, how she was doing, etc. Mrs. Carson opened up a bit more, but never answered much beyond the specific questions I'd asked. I thought about trying to push further—maybe I just wasn't being forward enough—but I wasn't sure how. I'd been supremely confident in my charm offensive; that fact that it failed left me stymied. Clearly, seducing Mrs. Carson wasn't going to be as easy as I'd thought.

I still may have succeeded on my own, but as it turned out, I didn't have to.

Because that's when Mrs. Hartsell came into the picture and changed everything.

As I'd later learn, Mrs. Hartsell was Mrs. Carson's best friend during their college years. They'd stayed close over the following decades, despite living in different states. By coincidence, Mrs. Hartsell dropped by for a visit the same weekend I was hanging out with Drew.

I'd arrived at the Carsons on Saturday, unaware of the extra guest. As Drew let me inside and led me to his room, I heard two women's voices talking animatedly from somewhere inside the house. I shot Drew a glance, who merely shrugged back.

"Mom's friend. She's visiting from out of town. Just for the weekend though, don't worry."

I didn't press further, but as we walked through the house, we came across the two of them lounging in their living room. My eyes immediately went to the newcomer, and I'll admit it—as soon as I laid eyes on Mrs. Hartsell, I was smitten.

She wasn't quite on Mrs. Carson's level, but she was certainly attractive in her own right. She had shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, and tan skin. Mrs. Hartsell was thinner than Mrs. Carson, with less-impressive curves, but she was well-shaped nonetheless. If she'd ever had kids, she certainly didn't show it. I could tell she was Mrs. Carson's age, but she didn't seem stiff in the slightest. Even at this first meeting, I sensed a wild side to Mrs. Hartsell; her steady gaze and sly smile hinting she was always ready for a good time.

When Drew and I entered the room, the two women stopped their conversation and looked at us.

Mrs. Hartsell spoke first. "Drew, this must be your best friend I've heard about." She ran her eyes over me pointedly, before glancing at Mrs. Carson. "Sydney, you didn't tell me how cute he was."

Mrs. Hartsell's words hit me like a shot of adrenaline. I was used to girls my age flirting with me, not women Mrs. Hartsell's age. Or at least not quite so boldly. My ego grew two sizes in that moment.

Mrs. Carson seemed thoroughly embarrassed by her friend's forwardness. "Lori! Behave yourself!" she admonished. "Luke's basically a second son to us." She turned to me. "Luke, I'm so sorry. This is my friend Lori. Lori Hartsell."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hartsell," I said, walking to her and offering a handshake. "I'm Luke." Feeling bold, I added, "You're very pretty yourself."

"Oh, a gentleman," Mrs. Hartsell replied, extending her own hand. I shook it gently but firmly. She raised her eyebrows. "A strong grip too. I like a man who knows how to use his hands." As if her words weren't flirtatious enough, she punctuated them with a wink.

"Lori!" Mrs. Carson hissed, but only half-heartedly. I had the sense that Mrs. Carson expected her friend's antics by now, even if she didn't approve.

"Sorry, Sydney. You know how I get," Mrs. Hartsell said, before turning back to me. "It's nice to meet you too, Luke. But please, don't call me Mrs. Hartsell. It makes me feel old. Call me Lori."

"Uh sure... Lori," I said, trying out her name. It felt weird addressing a middle-aged woman so personally, although I did like the familiarity it implied. Still, she would always be Mrs. Hartsell in my mind. "But you're hardly old. You're thirty tops, right?"

Mrs. Hartsell put her hand on her chest in a flattered 'who me?' gesture. "Oh, Luke, I like you. Sydney, can I keep him?"

Mrs. Carson shook her head in exasperation. Drew's patience must have reached its limits too, because he started to drag me away from the women.

"Okay, okay, we get it. Luke's a hit. But we're gonna head upstairs now. C'mon, Luke. We're gonna miss the start of the game."

I allowed myself to be led away, but I shouted "It was nice meeting you, Lori!" as I went. I heard her respond "you too, cutie!" followed by another admonition from Mrs. Carson.

As I followed Luke to the stairs, I processed my interaction with Mrs. Hartsell. I'd never met a woman her age come on to me so strong, especially not in a first meeting. In the back of my mind, I knew she probably flirted with everyone, but I couldn't help but wonder what she'd do if I could get her alone. She seemed prime cougar material... but was it real? Or just for show?

In the end, though, it didn't really matter. Mrs. Hartsell would be gone by Sunday, and I'd likely never see her again. Still—for at least the near future, Mrs. Carson was going to have some fantasy-reel competition.

Once Drew and I made it to the bonus room, I couldn't resist ribbing him a bit. "Drew, man... your mom's friend is hot."

Drew sighed. "I mean, I guess."

"What do you mean, you guess?" I said, surprised at his lack of enthusiasm.

"I dunno. She's just old. She tries to act like she's still in college with Mom, and she's not. It's just weird." Drew said, making a face.

"It's not weird to be confident. I wish more women were as fun as Mrs. Hartsell. Are you just not into MILFs?" I questioned.

"Lori isn't a mom, so by definition she's not a MILF." Drew shot back. "And sure, she might have been hot when she was younger, but she's got wrinkles and shit now."

"You're crazy, man," I said, shaking my head. "You're making her sound like a woman in a nursing home. She's mature, not ancient. Look, I don't care if you admit it or not. Mrs. Hartsell is hot, plain and simple."

"Whatever man," Drew said, clearly done with the conversation. "Let's just watch some TV."

***

The game started, and Drew and I settled in to watch. My attention was divided though, as I could hear Mrs. Carson and Mrs. Hartsell talking from downstairs. Their words were muffled by our TV, but their voices alone were like hooks in my brain. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had an opportunity here, and that by hanging out with Drew upstairs I was squandering it. In my fantasies, I'm sure I would have found a way to leave Drew, join the MILFs below, and magically talk them into a threesome right there in the living room.

I knew that's not how real life worked, but my brain had left rationality behind. I needed to be back downstairs. But I couldn't leave mid-game without pissing Drew off. And so, I waited.

Somehow, I made it to half-time. Normally, Drew and I would spend the break reviewing the game or shooting the shit, but I had other plans now.

"Hey, man. You got any popcorn downstairs? I'm really craving some." I asked casually.

"Uh, yeah. I think so," Drew said. "You want me to have Mom make us some?"

"Nah, I don't want to bother her. I'll go make it myself. You want anything while I'm down?"

Drew considered. "I wouldn't say no to another drink." He motioned to the two plastic bottles he'd already drained.

"Cool. Be back soon," I said, practically jumping from the couch.

I reached the stairs and raced down to the living room, where Mrs. Carson and Mrs. Hartsell were still happily chatting away. I noticed they each had a wine glass in front of them... along with a now-empty wine bottle too.

Mrs. Carson noticed me first. "You need something, Luke?"

"I know what he needs," Mrs. Hartsell said under her breath, eyeing me up.

"Lori, stop it," Mrs. Carson nudged gently, but she cracked a smile. "Sorry, Luke. We've had some wine, and some of us can't seem to control themselves anymore." She shot Mrs. Hartsell a pointed glance.

"Um, I just came down to get some popcorn," I said. In my fantasy, this is where they'd tell me to forget the popcorn, join them on the couch, and then...

"Oh, sure. We have plenty in the pantry. I'll show you where it is," Mrs. Carson said, standing from the couch and derailing my train of thought.

Well, shit. I knew nothing was actually going to happen here, but still... I was disappointed.

I let Mrs. Carson take the lead, and I couldn't help but stare at her ass as she walked in front of me. So perfectly full and toned... her jeans molding it so tightly I could slightly see the hem of her underwear underneath. I wanted more than anything just to reach out and give her cheeks a squeeze. Would they be as softly pliable as I imagined? Would they bounce if I smacked them? I'd give anything to find out. Goddamn, but Mr. Carson was a lucky man.

My fantasizing was cut short once we reached the pantry. Mrs. Carson found a bag of microwaveable popcorn and passed it over to me. "Here, just follow the instructions on the back and you'll be fine."

"Thanks," I said, taking the bag from her hands. I 'accidentally' let my fingers cover hers in the process, and although our touch was quick and slight, it felt electric. At least to me it did, in my hypersensitive state.

Our exchange was done for all practical purposes, but I wanted more. How could I keep this going?

"Mrs. Carson, I hate to keep bothering you... but Drew said he need a drink too. Do you have any in the fridge I could take?"

I knew it was a dumb question—I was plenty capable of checking myself, but it was the only excuse I could come up with.

"Um, I think so? Let me double check" Mrs. Carson said, overlooking my feigned helplessness.

She walked to the fridge and opened it. Apparently, there wasn't one immediately visible, because she leaned over to rummage further inside. I was directly behind her at this point and had a perfect view to admire the sight. Her jean-clad ass became even more prominent as she bent, becoming the focal point of her body. Holy fuck, I whispered to myself, staring openly now. If only there was a way I could save this moment forever.

A flash of inspiration struck me. Moving fast, I pulled my phone from my pocket and activated the camera. Giving just enough time for the lens to focus in on Mrs. Carson's ass, I quickly snapped a few photos, then put the phone away again. The whole maneuver was completed in seconds, Mrs. Carson still obliviously rooting around in the fridge.

But just as I was mentally cheering my quick-thinking, Mrs. Hartsell's voice broke in. "If you have some bottled water, I'll take one too."

My head almost snapped with how fast it whirled to the kitchen entrance. At some point, Mrs. Hartsell had poked her head into the kitchen unnoticed by me. She almost certainly had seen the stunt I had just pulled. My heart turned cold as stone. How the fuck was I going to explain myself out of this one?

Not knowing what else to do, I pulled out my phone again and pretended to be texting on it. Maybe Mrs. Hartsell would think she had misinterpreted what I'd been doing with it? I could hope, at least. Not like I had another option.

Mrs. Carson straightened up a moment later, four waters in-hand. "I knew we had these in her somewhere. One for each of us. How perfect."

She closed the fridge door with her hip, then handed me two of the bottles. "That should do it for you, Luke. Microwave is all yours. Just make sure you don't burn the popcorn. It takes forever to get the stench out."

"I'll be careful," I promised.

Mrs. Carson seemed satisfied and walked by Mrs. Hartsell on her way back to the couch. Mrs. Hartsell gave me a look that I couldn't decipher, and then she too left.

As I microwaved the popcorn, my head was a mess. I'd just been busted creeping on Mrs. Carson, and despite my attempts to pretend otherwise, I knew Mrs. Hartsell had to have seen. If she told on me, I'd likely never be able to show my face in the Carsons' house again. But maybe she wouldn't say anything. Or maybe I was wrong, and Mrs. Hartsell hadn't noticed what I had done after all.

I wondered if the images I'd saved were worth the potential trouble—what if they were duds? After confirming that I was still alone, I pulled up my photo gallery. Sure enough, I had three pictures capturing Mrs. Carson's exquisite ass... clear and in-focus. They were all essentially the same photo, but there were just enough tiny differences between them that made them feel like a complete set.

They were great—no, fantastic—shots. I might be in trouble for them later, but the pictures themselves were a goldmine. My future jack-off sessions just got a powerful new tool.