Herbie, my best friend called me just as I was leaving to do some casual work on property surveys, like lines and laying out housing tracts for developers. Real estate is always good and busy in the San Diego area, it’s got a certain kudos ring to the address. I was glad of the occupation, not really hurting for money but it’s all useful and good money. Previously I had a dead boring job for an ambulance company, transporting little old men and ladies from their rest homes to the hospital and then maybe to die. There had been some really nice folk. as well as bad tempered ranging from a bit tetchy to damn fucking rude. I guess it was dementia or something, but I was usually accompanied by or greeted by a carer which reduced the heat on me.
My training to become an EMT had drawn to a halt, mostly because of the meagre salaries they pay, now and the future and this casual work suited me. Herbie told me his mom was back in town and that she might need some help getting things ready at the house. He worked long hours and did lots of overtime and on top of that, Herbie wouldn’t know which end of a hammer or spade to hold. He was a store worker at various depots the chain had in different suburbs.
Around mid February one year, Herbie’s mom, Molly had come back into town in order to get the house she still owned ready for the next tenant that was supposed to move in the beginning of March. Herbie gave me an address and phone number and I told him I would call and visit to see what she needed. He told me she was there most days, so it fitted my travels to find the place on afternoon.
It had been maybe 3 years since I had seen her and the shock when she opened the door to my knock was amazing. Molly stood or more likely lounged against the door with a large glass of red wine in her hand and a joint hanging sideways out of her mouth. I was in love already.
“Hi Mom, I’m Hank Mrs Toynbee ... you know Herbie’s...”
“Hi Hank, Yeah, Herbie’s buddy ... cut the Mrs it’s Molly OK?” she slurred having removed the joint. “Sure - I recognise you, big strong boy you were ... still are,” she chuckled, taking a drag and eyeing me up and down.
Now Molly was my friend’s mom. Every guy I knew from way back considered her to be the coolest mom in the neighbourhood. Thinking back, even before the term cool was so used, but I can’t remember the old word, but this bitch was hot and a paid up PAWG. I think we thought she was cool because she dressed real casual, not fussy, not always the right dresses for the right places. She smoked heavily, but we didn’t know about pot and we would get sights of her body where our moms protected a view say up a skirt or down a blouse. With Mrs Toynbee, it seemed anything goes. She was way older than the chicks I hung out with ... and there weren’t many. The same guys really had no clue how cool my mom was but she was more private and street wise somehow, but fucking cool in my eyes ... another story.
Molly tottered slightly as she reversed into the place. It was roomy on a pleasant tree lined wide street. All individual places, with a garage set forward alongside a good front lawn and two vehicle parking. It really didn’t look like she had done much of anything around the house to get it ready as she showed me round, languidly leaning here and there against solidity, waving her arms around, pointing. Molly was carrying some weight as you’d expect for a mature, well travelled and I must say - well used looking lady of I guess mid to late 40s. I had plenty of time to enjoy one of my secret addictions of studying, ogling and leering at females. Figures, clothing and mannerisms all came under my beady eye scrutiny. She was a PAWG in the top category. The way that ass wobbled and moved was spectacular. The joint in her mouth was the cherry on the cake, giving her attitude and a very very relaxed - who the fuck cares manner...
Bare legs under a black with a powerful floral motif, loose above knee length flowing dress, were shapely and slightly thick, bearing several tiny scars and bruises. Her arms were bare from just below her shoulders, the dress had short wide sleeves. I think there was a brassiere. Her dirty blonde brown hair was fastened carelessly in a sort of pile on the top. Stray strands hung all round. Molly wore flat sandals with a T bar design, with fake diamond impressions. All twenty nails were painted deep purple.
Walls needed a new coat of paint, wood floors needed a good cleaning and new finish, the backyard trees and bushes needed some attention as well. In the bathroom, the tile grout needed a clean and although she didn’t mention it, the laundry closet door handle was nearly a one screw failure ... maybe I could exercise the remainder of my addictions; close examination of intimate underwear.
On that point I knew what I found wouldn’t match my own mom’s. Apart from the deliciously pungent odours on her panty gussets, Molly would have to enlarge her tits to something gigantic like failing hot air balloons. My mom’s hooters were spectacular. They blossomed out high up and the mass oozed to her waist. I think now; I wouldn’t be able to get two of my pancake size hands round part of one big boob They were something I had intimate knowledge of from a very early age, as most kids, but right up to age 18, home from college I was allowed to grope and fondle mom’s massive tits and suckle of course.
Anyway back to the house repairs and alterations. It was nothing I couldn’t handle. Molly was occupying the place until her tenants arrived and then would return to her own place in Granada Place, two roads from where I lived. We returned to the lounge to sit on the couch and talked a bit, all the while she kept that glass of wine full and every now and then she would take a hit off the joint. I declined several offers of the same drink and the bong but took a cold beer, guessing it wasn’t as potent as the cheap crap red wine I could read the label of, on the coffee table in front of us. I listed out the things that needed to be done and I told her since I had a good deal of free time I would give her a hand. It did occur to me that my hand would have extra curricular duties. Not just decorating...
Over the next week or so if I was not doing survey work, I was at Molly’s place, working through the list. Even if I did work during the day I would head over afterwards to get a few things done in the evening. Molly pretty much just drank and got high all the time I was there. I got high several times on the musky and pee odours from the gussets of her knickers, when I raided the laundry closet. She wore lots of them, probably changing every day but they were all sorts. Straight plain pants, high leg, lacy pants, cut away panties, thongs, briefs, French knickers, even a pair of gym pants with longish legs. I can’t even put a name to the materials. The colour range matched a rainbow. I took a lot of photos and videos of me jerking ropes of cum into a few. Molly was a size 12 and bigger sometime. The labels didn’t always specify. Bra cup size was a C so 38 inches at least. They matched her pants in colours.
When I had finished the list to her satisfaction, she offered to pay me for the work I did but I wasn’t gonna take money for helping my buddy’s mom out. So instead she said she would take me to dinner one night. Valentines day was that Friday so I jokingly suggested we could do a date night at The Fish Market. JeeZ! Molly went for it! Great seafood., kinda expensive so I really didn’t eat there often but since she was paying I figured it a good time to indulge myself, if we could reserve a table on such a momentous date ... we did...
Lover’s Day rolled around and I drove over to get her. I showed up early, honestly hoping to get a few peeks of her changing or preparing while she got ready. I carried a nice big box of that god awful wine she always drank. Molly opened the door and bade me put the wine on a table. A satin look robe was casually hung over her shoulders, the front open but clasped with the hand without a glass of wine. I glimpsed nothing, but a little flesh was enough. While she got ready I sneaked down the hallway to her room. Her door was slightly open, she obviously trusted me or couldn’t give a shit, and I got a good look at her naked.
On quite a modern dressing table there was a large mirror Molly was dressing in front of, so I could see her back and front side in the mirror, whichever way she turned. Her nipples were mounted high on her udders and they kinda pointed out to the side, not quite puffies but going that way. So different to my mom’s I remembered. Mom’s were enormous bulbs and pointed down as if teetering on the edge of a landslide. When aroused which was often; either me sucking or twiddling them, they would grow, I recall, to about three quarters of an inch ... lovely! I was stunned to see Molly shaved her pussy. I like that. Her bald slit was very visible with inner labia folds very prominent. I like that too. She bent low to retrieve something from a low drawer and gave me a stupendous view of her cunt lips between her spread thighs and the big gap between. Her asshole wasn’t to be seen such was the fleshiness of her cheeks.
Molly’s butt wobbled frequently as a reaction to whatever move she made. It was dappled with small dimples over the vast region of her succulent ass cheeks and I guessed the onset woman’s dread ... cellulite. She had a tasty torso with element of fat wrinkles below her armpits and a suggestion of a muffin top below her waist. It was a very tasty, lush package all round. I could have jacked off right there watching her but there was no time. I hurried back to the couch once she had dressed. I did notice she did not put a bra on though.
Just accompanying Mollie to the car was a joy viewing wobbles, sways, quivers under the one piece silk like material of her golden dress. There were times when I had to support her, just like when I had first arrived. The wine and the ever present joint were affecting her greatly. My arm round her cuddly frame felt her body warmth on the sultry even for February evening...
Down on Harbor Drive, I managed to park easily for a change on the celebration night. We took our dinner table. She kept trying to get me to have a glass of wine with her but I told her since I was driving I really didn’t want to drink. After dinner which was superb, we walked along the break water looking at all the boats and lights shining off the water in the harbor. Driving back to her house she said she was not ready to go home yet, so I suggested a little place I would hang out at a few times a week called the Cavalier. Small place ... mainly older crowd in their 50’s+. I was by far the youngest regular there. It was really just around the corner from her house.
When we got there she headed towards the bathroom and I had a quiet word with Steve, the bartender. I gave him $50 telling him who Molly was and that I planned on having some fun with that tonight, so pour her drinks heavy and pour mine light. He grinned widely and said no problem he’d take care of it adding I was a lucky bastard, she’s hot. They were doing Karaoke that night. I really hate it but she got into it. All the while I was making sure she had a full or nearly full drink in front of her, while nursing mine. She was downing at least three for each one of mine. We were there till almost closing. She was pretty drunk but held it together - well enough. From the older guys in there she was getting a lot of leers and smacking of chops and I was getting looks of envy. I did have to put my arm around her to steady her walk out to the car, which gave me a good chance to grab a handful of the side of her tit. I could feel how hard her nipple got in my hand.
Back at her house I helped Molly inside. Of course once there she asked me to get her a glass of wine. Being the gentleman that I am, I poured her a nice big glass. By the time I got back to her on the couch she had packed a bowl and was taking a hit off the bong. Sitting down close to her I tentatively suggested that I didn’t think it was a good idea for me to drive home since I had been drinking so I was going to stay the night. Molly practically jumped at the idea and said she always had a guest room prepared so it was no problem. Fact was I had only supped about two glasses over the whole time. We sat talking a while until she had to go to the bathroom. Again she was having some trouble staying steady so I helped her, all the while taking every chance I could to feel her tits.
It was maybe 5am by the time she admitted she had had enough and said she was going to bed. So once again I helped her to her room and sat her down on the edge of the bed, having to support her before she collapsed and hurt herself. I was actually in the boudoir that I’d glimpsed when she was changing. On a stool there was some nondescript clothing and I could see the strap and one cup of a black bra dangling. On the dressing table there wasn’t much room. It was festooned with so many ornate bottles and phials of perfumes and the like. I think a pair of pink panties hung over the edge of an open drawer. She fiddled with her big hoop ear rings and a fantastic gold necklace, refusing my offer of help with a sort of theatrical gesture, snickering she could do it. I offered only on the grounds of staying close.
She was having some trouble figuring out the buttons on her dress, so I helped her with those too. That slid off easily after I persuaded Mollie to stand, once undone and as I suspected - no brassiere. I sat down and for a little while she remained above me, her full thick bosom jiggling freely until she rubbed them both, I guessed in some usual habit kinda freedom gesture. Then suddenly as if remembering I was there she raised her hands to cover her tits, not very successfully, mashing and squashing them horribly.
“Now now mom I drove you to dinner which was ace thanks, just let me have a little pleasure in a kind of thank you Hank, before I go,” I cajoled her, pulling her back to the bed.
She offered no protest or covering up and I fondled them, cupping the glorious sinking globes before pushing her backwards on the bed. Swiftly bending down to take a nipple in my mouth was pretty much all it took for her.
“Ohh Hank,” she sighed. “Ooohhhh... !”
Her hands pulled my head and held me to her nipples while I sucked and bit them. Biteable isn’t the word; too cruel for beauties such as these mammary teats, they were full on suckable, about half an inch high and round, dark brown and nobbly.