You Couldn't Handle Me Ch. 02

"How did you meet her?" I asked.

"I've known Tanya since grade school." he said. "We were neighbors growing up. We were always friends. She was a stunner from the beginning. It wasn't till high school that I realized how I felt about her."

"What was she like?" I asked.

"With her, it was like, knowing someone who you just knew would be, like, a star. Someone that would be rich and famous. That she was meant for something bigger. The guys obviously loved her. The girls just wanted to be seen with her. It felt like we were all just background stars in her story." he said.

"Did she date a lot?" I asked, sipping my water.

"She eventually realized the power she had. She realized she had her pick of guys to be with. She wasn't shy. She knew how to strut her stuff, and yeah, she dated around a bit. She was never without a boyfriend. I was just lucky she picked me for a little bit." John said.

"So..." I began. "Was she a... was she a slut?"

His eyes met mine.

"Well, it wasn't like she was banging every guy that moved. But she was probably having more sex than anyone in that school, students or faculty. But, I think she kept it to her boyfriends mainly. Although, she did have a lot of boyfriends. And she had a voracious appetite. She wanted it every day. I know, to a guy, at first that sounds great. But eventually, you need a break, but you don't want to tell her no. She's impossible to keep up with." John said.

"What kind of guys did she date?" I asked.

"The... hot guys. Football players. Guys in bands. I was on the football team, but I was never one of the arrogant douchebags she tended to date. She dated around the school quite a bit, but by the end, she had moved beyond the school. She was dating college guys and guys like that." he replied.

"You ever meet her husband?" I asked.

"Yeah. I was shocked she settled down. But I took one look at her man and saw the same look I had seen before with every other guy she went through. He can't keep up with her. He knows it. She knows it. Makes me think the only reason she married him was cause she got knocked up. I doubt she actually truly loves him in that way. How could she if he comes up short?" he said.

So, he thinks Dad couldn't match her. Interesting.

"Do you think she actually settled down? Or, do you think she is still the same, deep down?" I asked.

"I don't know her that well any more. But if I had to guess, I'm guessing she's still the same. I'm guessing she's acting like the good wife, the good mother, but deep down, she is exactly the same. I'm guessing she is still the same wildcat underneath." John guessed.

"Do you think she would have settled down if she hadn't gotten pregnant?" I asked.

"I never imagined her settling down. She seemed the type to just go through life like a queen, like a... Hollywood star. I am legitimately shocked that she didn't become something more. Like, a model, or an actress. The last thing I expected her to become was a regular housewife. A soccer mom." he said.

"Do you think she wanted that? To be something more?" I asked, as the waitress came by with refills.

"I can't imagine this is what she wanted." he began. "This was the girl who practiced walking down the red carpet when she was a little girl. This was the girl who was the lead star in the school play. She knew she was destined for big things. We all did. I feel kinda bad for her that she didn't."

Despite all the dirty thoughts I had about Mom, and despite the tension between us, she was still my mother, and I felt a pang of sympathy for her. I agreed with John. Mom was destined for big things. Her becoming pregnant stopped that train in its tracks, and the fact that she gave away her own destiny to be a good mother for me made my heart warm with affection. But she gave no sign of being dissatisfied or resentful of her lot in life. Not only was she a hot mom, she was a good mom.

"What was Mo... um, what was she like in school?" I asked, catching myself.

"She was great. I mean, she broke up with me, and part of me wishes I could say that she was, you know, a bitch, or something. I wish I could hate her so I wouldn't have to think about her. But she was super nice. The way she broke up with me, the way she laid it all out, I agreed with her! She was that good and that nice at breaking my heart that I... I couldn't blame her. I couldn't hold it against her. She laid it all out, that we were super great friends and we always would be, but it might be best for us to stay great friends, that we weren't meant to be together. She was so sweet and nice and friendly about it, it made me like her more. Her breaking up with me made me want her more! That's how fucking good she is!"

I knew exactly what he meant. I had never been more attracted to her than I was at the moment she first told me she would never fuck me. So, I empathized with him on that.

"Everyone loved her. Everyone got along with her. I mean, there were people that started off hating her, but she always won them over. She was so effervescent that she was just impossible to hate. And it didn't hurt that she flirted with everyone." John said.

"I know how that goes." I muttered.

"She flirted with guys, girls, teachers, students, she never turned it off. And to have someone like her turning on the charm to you... it's no wonder she got straight A's." he said.

"What was it like dating her?" I said.

"It was great. It was like dating a movie star. She made you nervous just being around her. And she was a great girlfriend. She made you feel like the greatest, coolest guy in the world. And plus, she put out like crazy. Every little thing she did was dripping with sex. Here..." he began. He reached down and pulled out his senior yearbook, slamming it onto the wooden table. It was the same one Mom had. He flipped it open. On the cover page, prominently was a picture of Mom and John, with her arm over his shoulder.

I had seen pictures of Mom in her younger years, but I still marveled at her. If a girl that looked like her went to my school, I would have hooked up with her the first chance I had. Mom's body at 18 was just ripe and juicy and youthful. Her breasts were like swollen grapefruits at that young age. And she hadn't lost much of those looks. Her body filled out as she matured but she maintained her best assets, so she went from a smoking hot young woman to a sizzling hot mature woman. And she still had that same naughty smile.

John flipped to the inside of the front cover, where all his friends had signed it. He pointed to a spot, and I recognized Mom's girly handwriting. I leaned forward and read it.

"I know we broke up Johnny, but just so you know, you still make my nipples hard.

See you around babe

Tanya"

"Jeez." I said.

"I know." John said. "My ex writing that in my yearbook. It's... ridiculous. She owned me. She had me by the balls."

A long silence fell between us, a pause where I didn't know what to add. The clinking of glasses on the tables and the voices on the TV over the bar filled the room.

"So, you said I'm not the first to contact you?" I asked.

"That's right." he said.

"Then why bother helping? If she's so unbeatable." I asked.

"I like seeing arrogant assholes like you get brought back down to Earth." John replied.

"Or is it something else?" I began. "Maybe you want to see if someone could actually do it. If she could be conquered? If it's possible?"

He held my gaze for a minute before shrugging his shoulders. He sipped his beer again and spoke up.

"So, you said you're friends with her son?" John asked.

"Yeah. I, uh, go to school with him." I lied.

"And you met her and want her to yourself, right?" he asked. I nodded. "You want to know the tip to get in her pants. Here it is..." he began. I leaned in. "The trick is... there is no trick. No secret maneuver to convince her to spread her legs. She chooses. Always. I never saw any guy take her down. Conquer her. She doesn't fall for any simple tricks. She doesn't like guys who try to use pick-up lines. She doesn't like grungy guys trying to pick her up."

"What does she like?" I asked.

"There's no rhyme or reason to it. Some guys were athletes. Some weren't. Some were popular. Other's weren't. Some were older. Some younger. If I had to guess, I would say the guys she liked were the ones who were fun to her. She was always looking for a new toy to play with." he said.

"What was fun to her?" I asked.

"She liked to make guys squirm." John began. "She would flirt with everyone, but tease only the ones she really liked."

"Really?" I asked, the blood rushing through me.

"Oh yeah. She knew what she was doing. She would flash her cleavage, shake her butt, show herself off. And she was very good at it." he said.

"So, she only teased the guys she really liked?" I asked.

"Yeah. She teased me all the time. Every chance she got. At least she had the good will to follow through and not keep me waiting too long. But yeah, I saw her do it to other guys too." John said.

"What if I told you that she did it to me too? That she teased me?" I asked. John raised his eyebrow.

"Really? Well, I would say you've gone farther than most. But you still don't have a chance. One thing about her, despite how sex crazy she was, she never cheated. She was straight up like that. She had a code. And she's a married woman. And her will is unbreakable." John said.

"I can do it." I said firmly. "I can get her." John smiled.

"You're a cocky little shit, I'll give you that." John began. "Yeah, she might tease you. And that's probably farther than most could get nowadays. But at best, she is toying with you. She's not a girl anymore. Say what you will about her when she was in school, but when she got married and took those vows, I have no doubt she meant it. And if she would throw all of that away for one night with some cocky teenager, then everything I know about her is wrong. You are, at best, a toy for her amusement. Nothing more." My temporary high at thinking I had a chance began to diminish. "Next time you see her, look at her. Take a good look. Do you really think you can handle her? Do you really think you're enough? I've seen guys like you crumble next to her. Why are you any different? She is more woman than you could ever dream of handling. The things she does... can't be described. She may act nice, but she is absolutely filthy. You don't know what you're getting into with her. My advice. Walk away. Get her out of your mind. Because the worst thing that could happen is that you succeed. Cause she will show you the truth. She'll bring that out of you. So look deep inside, think about it, and truly decide if you could actually match up with her. Cause if you're not really up to it, she will ruin you."

My eyes fell as I was lost in thought. John smiled again, knowing he had thrown some doubt in my eyes. He polished up his beer and stood up. He was about to walk away when he took one last look at me.

"You've got balls, kid. I'll give you that. And that will get you far in life. Don't waste your efforts on a fool's errand. Be happy with what you've got. Cause once you've sampled the finest meal, everything else is bland." He said. I looked up at him.

"But was it worth it?" I asked. His eyes went vacant for a moment, lost in thought. He regained his composure, but judging by his reaction, I knew the truth. He wouldn't change a thing. He nodded goodbye to me and walked away, leaving me alone.

***********

I had thought about John's words all day. He made me consider whether I could actually handle Mom. If I had what it takes. Putting bravado aside, I realized it was something I had never considered.

I had never failed to nail a girl I was after. Never. But Mom... she was different, obviously. Mom was the first real woman I had ever really targeted. I knew what I was working with, and I never failed to leave a girl unsatisfied. But Mom was a different animal altogether.

She was a woman. A real woman. A sexy, hot bodied, mature woman. And from John's descriptions, she was fucking damn near perfect. Her character was solid. Her will was unbreakable. Me succeeding would mean breaking through, like, 800 barriers. And no man had ever broken through one barrier.

She was married. She was a 40 year old woman. She was my mother. I had to break through all three of these before I could make her mine.

And looking back, I really hadn't made much progress since my confession to her. It was like John said. She was toying with me. It might just be that she's having a little of the fun she used to have with me. Any other woman would have given in by this point, I'm sure of it. But not her.

Sure, the game was still on between me and her. Despite part of me still being frustrated with her, she had toned down things since our discussion at the pool party. Yeah, there was her having loud sex with me in the house, and she still flirted with me, but not at the level she was doing it initially. But she had vowed to stop completely. I had vowed to conquer her and I had made moves on her, showing off my body, having sex with Carrie under her nose, but it had not really changed anything. I was no closer to fucking her now than I was before.

I sat in the living room that night and watched her sashay around the house, about to cook dinner. She didn't even look at me. She walked around gracefully, lithe like a cat. She shook her butt slightly. I watched it jiggle with every step. I watched her wide, prominent hips. Her round, jutting ass. I studied the slight indentation through the jeans of her ass-crack, which no doubt had the string of a thong running up its length. I had dreamed of diving in face first, burying my face between those cheeks, rimming my mother's no-doubt tasty asshole. But that ass was mighty. Powerful. She could easily smother me in its fleshy, firm goodness. Grind it on my face roughly, grinding it into the bed, till I can't breathe. Till I have to beg for mercy.

Then there were those legs. The only fear I would have eating my mother's juicy cunt is putting myself at her mercy, putting myself between her firm legs, knowing she could wrap them around my head at any point and have me, again, begging for mercy.

And then there were her tits. My mother's gigantic, titanic rack. Huge mounds of smooth, luscious flesh. I could easily lose myself in them. Drown in them. And she would let me. She would let me lose myself, to the point that all my bravado, my macho arrogance, would be thrown out the window. She would smother me with them and take me down a few pegs.

That's why she hasn't taken me up on my offer. I'm a toy she would break, at least in her eyes. She has me curled around her finger, and she knows it. She could crook her finger at me, and she knows I would come crawling.

She owns me.

Panic set in as I began to realize that maybe John was right. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I couldn't handle her.

She hasn't even let me close. I'm a joke to her. She is not at all taking me seriously. She is toying with me, having a little fun, but not letting me get anywhere. I had done nothing. Nothing! All that work was wasted. Why would she want to play with a toy that would break when it came to playtime? No, she wanted something more durable.

But how? I needed Mom to take me seriously, and I had no idea where to start. I had no idea what to do.

"Tom." Mom said, suddenly in front of me. I looked up and took her in.

She looked amazing, as always. Her dark jeans, flattering her lower half. Her black top, hugging her massive rack, nipples standing proud. Her gorgeous face, studying me as I sat below her, like a peasant in front of the queen. At this moment, I felt something I had never felt before. Intimidation. Mom was so much woman, so luscious in every way. But she was also like a warrior. An Amazonian goddess. All I was, was an 18-year-old with a big dick who'd banged a bunch of chicks from school. I was not even close to being on her level, and the thought made my heart drop.

"Tom!" she repeated.

"Uh, yeah?" I asked, shaking my head. She smiled coyly.

"You need to set the table." she said airily. I nodded in reply and she sashayed away.

I looked at her angrily. Knowing it was a strong possibility I would never have her even once was terrifying. It just felt wrong. I always thought I could land her. Make her scream on my thick dick. But she wasn't even close to giving in. And I didn't know where the hell to go from here. What I should do next? At that moment, fucking Mom never felt farther away.

Me, Mom and Dad sat down. Dad took the first bite of his steak and moaned.

"Oh buddy." Dad said, glancing at me. He turned to Mom. "This steak is incredible, Tanya." Dad turned back to face me and smiled. "Son, you're mom's a hell of a woman."

I glanced at Mom and she smiled knowingly. I stared at her hungrily. I resumed eating, and seconds later, I glanced over at Dad. He was looking at Mom while she focused on her food. I watched how he looked at her. I saw a mixture of pride, pride that he had landed such a gorgeous woman as his wife, as well as something else. A look that at first I couldn't place, until I had realized I had seen it before. Earlier that day in fact, with John. He felt pride for his hot wife, but there was a certain fear there as well. Fear of his wife, my mom. Fear and... intimidation. Mom intimidated him. Like she was too much woman for him and he knew it. Like he knew he was lucky to actually have her. Like he knew was lucky to still have her, that she hadn't traded up. That she had stuck around when she was destined for better things. That this whole arrangement could fall through at any moment. His expression said a thousand words, hidden under a layer of bravado. He was as owned by Mom as John was. As all her boyfriends were. As I was.

Mom dominated this relationship as she dominated all of her others. She wore the pants in this relationship. She had Dad by the balls, and he knew it.

Dad was right, though. She was truly a hell of a woman. And unlike him, I would never know it. I would never know what she is capable of. I would never be so lucky. I glanced at her mammoth jugs, and sighed as I realized I would never see them. Unless I came up with something remarkable. Some incredibly elegant plan, some bold gambit to make her mine. A plan so precise and subtle in its intricacies that there was no chance of failure.

What could I do?

************

Chapter 4: See Mom's Tits

Okay, maybe I would never actually get to fuck my hot-bodied mother. Sure. I was about to pack it in and give up altogether on my plan to fuck her. But I vowed to myself, at the very least, that I would get to see her huge tits bare at least once. I had to. I had been too tortured by her not to at least get to see them once.

Even for a guy like me, a guy who wants to fuck his own mom, fuck her with my thick cock as hard as I could and fill all of her holes with my cum, even for a guy like that, this part of my journey with her felt a little over the line. I mean, there was a certain honor in doing battle with her, trying to convince her to take off her clothes for me, conquering her in the process. But sneaking around, desperate to get a glimpse of her body without her knowledge, that felt a bit creepy to me. However, at this point, I was desperate.

Come to find out, Mom had an incredible talent for locking doors behind her. Every time she took a shower, or went to her room to change, I checked the doorknob, checking if it was locked. Like I said, it felt wrong to be trying to metaphorically leap out of the bushes just to see her naked body, and part of me was kind of relieved that it never came to the point where I had an unlocked door and had to decide what to do. I had no plan, other than to just barge in. Nothing more complex than that. But those doors were the only barrier between me and Mom's body. Mom would be in the shower, her body slick, her breasts covered with soap, her ass bare and her pussy exposed, but that sight was locked off to me.