Mick's Mum, the Milf I Had

by uksnowy

Copyright© 2018 by uksnowy

Fiction Sex Story: A found, badly written tale - no paragraphs for instance, engineered at great time and expense! into the modern era and thousands of miles from the original

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/ft   Drunk/Drugged   Fiction   Slut Wife   Anal Sex   Hairy   .

Midsummer in England, six weeks off school. It was going fast. My friend Mick and I, both 15, were once again having a two man video party, as we so often did at his big comfy house. That night we had viewed vintage porn stuff like Debby Does Dallas, Deep Throat, Kitten Navidad videos and many others. We liked the raw nature of the scenes and particularly how big bushed the women were, which you don’t see on modern stuff. How two lads who were pals, came to like the full lady gardens I don’t know, but we did and confessed to each other we’d never felt one in the various sexual conquests we boasted about. After a few hours of mutual wanking we went to bed. I was in a big spare room with a bathroom.

Woken some time later by noise in the hall downstairs, I couldn’t help but look to see it was his mother Booth coming home from a party at a neighbour’s place, very drunk. Her husband Pete wasn’t with her. There was no sign of Mick, but he is a heavy sleeper. Booth sat at the bottom of the stairs trying to get her shoes off. Why I don’t know - but maybe it was her presence, alone and me still randy - I went down and asked if she needed help. She looked up at me with sad bleary eyes and I could see she had been crying. Her smeared mascara and red eyes were a dead giveaway.

I helped remove her white three inch high stilettos, getting some great sneaky views up her bare thick carved thighs as I pressed the question about her tears. Sitting next to Booth, she told me she had caught Mick’s dad making out with a younger girl at the bar. I leaned over attempting to give her a big hug and she sank into my weak embrace, trying the best I could, to comfort her. We sat on the stairs for a short while, Booth sobbing until she gave me a nudge “I need to go to the bathroom Stuart, help me up please.”

I helped her stand up and supported her groggily to the door nearly opposite the stairs and I waited ... as you do - hearing her pissing, and somehow this turned me on. The splash was loud and long and I think there was a small fart, making me smile. She was a big toilet roll spinner. I heard her blow her nose and sniff. By the time she emerged, still looking very sad, I had a semi hard on under my night shorts. Luckily she didn’t seem to notice as I tried to pull my T shirt a bit lower over it.

“Help me up the stairs, like a good boy,” she slurred, with a resigned grin. It wasn’t wide enough for us to go up together side by side and probably dangerous, but I was right behind, my hands on her big comfy soft hips. I could see and feel the outline of her panties. Booth is not a small waif by a long way. I guessed about 5’5” and a size 14 with my limited knowledge of things. Not big titted but they looked nice, full and yes a sag, but she had had three children, Mick the youngest. Her hair was short in a neat trim, naturally wavy and Booth was a paid up member of the ginger group. It was quite startlingly bright and I think natural. Just before the last step Booth tottered and lost her balance but I had her in a firm grip, being a big chap is often good, just as it was there. I am a little over 6’0” and play number eight rugby so I was in shape. I could easily support her. At the top of the stairs she paused, but as soon she continued walking she almost fell again. I chuckled and made a comment about her having consumed a skin full, getting a stupid kind of nod and giggle.

“Do you want any help to bed Mrs Marmont?” I asked, instantly knowing it was not only silly, but a bit presumptuous. Booth agreed with a little naughty cackle, waving towards a door, telling me that not only was I a good boy, but a naughty ... very very very naughty boy. I helped Booth to the bed in a stylish large room, where she sat down and fell back. Deciding I had done my job I turned to walk out. “Stuart I know you don’t want to know this but I might be so pissed, I might be sick. Can you get me a bucket from the kitchen ... you know... ?” When I found a metal one, not easy in someone else’s home and returned, Booth was still laying on the bed and seemed to be asleep. I put the bucket beside the bed, but it rattled making her alert to sit up, attempting to thank me. With a smile I told her it was no problem and walked to the door. “Stuart ... Stu ... I know I’m being a nuisance and big lads like you need your sleep but can you please help me with my cardigan and dress?” I just nodded.

It’s funny how it worked ... I mean I had no actual plans, yes wild dreams ... She’s one fucking handsome mature woman in her mid 30s, but suddenly I was being asked to help her undress. The black cardigan was easy, just one single button at the top and I put it on the chair next to the bed. Trembling I leaned round her and removed a stunning necklace, which she retrieved the gold charm from her ample freckled cleavage. Booth was Canadian and not overly pretty, just well put together. Her chin was small and very weak and set back, her nose ... to be honest large and beaky, but her eyes were; usually – crystal clear blue. Close to, fiddling with the jewellery I was taking stock of the woman in whose boudoir I was in and her breath reeked of booze.

Booth tried to unzip her dress and couldn’t, looking helplessly and pleading at me. Reaching round, I dragged the fastener down ... Shit! Her back was lightly freckled and of all things she had a small tattoo between her shoulder blades. It was a symbolic cross of something. She stood, again with my assistance and held out her arms to get her balance. Booth dropped her arms and with them her dress, right then slid to the floor. Near naked, except her brassiere and briefs, she lurched over and kissed me on the lips holding me tight. All I could do was to return her kiss. Standing there all sorts of thoughts raced through my head about the delightful but awkward predicament facing me. A semi panic started, my big fantasy was turning real. I broke the kiss and tried to speak. Booth just put a finger on my lips telling me not speak and then she kissed me again. My dick was so hard and I knew she could feel it. I gambled on everything working out OK and unclipped her bra and when the kiss broke, it fell to the floor. With one hand supporting her, the other cupping one of her beautiful breasts, I softly pushed her down on the bed.

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