Together Lainey and I have developed a “comfortable” life. First, we are a couple. We do things together. We go places together. We present ourselves, to others and to the world, together, as a couple.

We are partners. We address life’s challenges and experience life’s pleasures and rewards together, as partners. We look after each other and take care of each other, like partners do.

We are lovers, sexual partners. We take sexual pleasure from each other. We satisfy each other’s physical needs and we excite each other’s minds and imaginations.

And every night, we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

And that’s why, after more than three years of our being ‘like this,” Lainey asked me one evening...

“Jimmy, when was the last time you had a date?”

~ ~ ~

“Jimmy, when was the last time you had a date?”

At first I didn’t understand what she was asking. Once I finally convinced myself that I’d heard what I thought I heard I smiled and took her hand.

“Just last night. And it was fantastic.”

She freed her hand and lightly slapped mine. “No – I mean a real date – a date with a girl – a woman – one you could possibly think of having a future with.”

Her words took me completely off-guard. I’ve never had a thought about a life with anyone else but Lainey

“I already have a future – a fantastic future – with you.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Jimmy.”

No, I did not know that’s not what she meant.

“You should have a girlfriend of your own. A permanent girlfriend.”

I had no idea where this was coming from. Like I said, I never thought of Lainey – of her and me – as anything other than “permanent.” But she went on.

“Jimmy, you’re at an age when you should start thinking seriously about having a family. And you know – and it hurts for me to say this – but as much as I love you, and as much as we love each other – and we do...,” she stopped, and she put her arm around my neck and lifted her lips to me and kissed me, the tenderest, most loving kiss imaginable, “And as much as we love each other, I can’t be the one to give you that family.”

I felt myself tearing up. I love her so much, and for me to hear those words – and for her to have to say them – I could almost literally feel my heart breaking.

And part of the reason for my heartbreak was ... she was right. My beautiful, loving Lainey is right. I always talked about having a family “some day” because my wonderful parents taught me how wonderful it was to have a family and how I’d “have a family of my own one day.”

Yet at the same time, the woman who I loved most in the world was right – she couldn’t be the one to give me that family that I desired...

I finally lost it. I broke down in tears, and Lainey – Elaine, my mother – held me to her breast and kissed my head and tried to comfort me – comfort and reassure me, like she’s done all my life.

And I could feel her tears as they ran down her cheeks.

~ ~ ~

Lainey is a beautiful, elegant, sexy woman and a passionate and uninhibited lover.

But she’s also a mother. And she’s been a mother much longer than she’s been my lover and my partner and my love.

And mothers worry about their children, and especially about their sons, and about their futures.

Yes, I’ve dated a fair amount (although certainly not in the last three years!). And all the girls – women – that I’ve dated have been appealing – smart and attractive and had good personalities, and most of them had a healthy enjoyment of sex. But as Mom – Lainey – observed, that Saturday morning ages ago – even the relationships that I’d had hope for had for some reason never quite panned out.

And now, in my early thirties, Lainey thought that it was time for me to get cracking.

“Jimmy, there’s this woman I work with at Hansco Tool. I think you should meet her.”

Jeez, Mom! Is there anything worse than a mother fix-up – and one that’s especially bizarre in light of Lainey’s and my relationship?

“Uh, Lainey, I’m sure that she’s attractive and very nice, but to tell the truth, I don’t feel like spending time with anyone else but you.”

There. I hoped that saying it like that would be a graceful, positive way of putting her off.

Nope. Mothers gotta be mothers.

“I told her about you, and she said she’d like to meet you. I’m sure that she was half-humoring me, being polite and all. But I think the other half was serious – that she’s interested and would like to meet you.”

“But...”

“So I told her you’d call her tonight or tomorrow.”

“Jeez, Lainey, did you really ... do I have to...?” sounding more and more exactly like a whining teenager, which is what I realized I was becoming.

“Tonight or tomorrow. Don’t embarrass me.”

In a more conciliatory, supportive tone, she said, “I know, Jimmy – it’s a little awkward, and especially at your age, and a ... and someone in my position. But Jimmy, if you don’t call Kathy I think you’ll be making a big mistake.”

Aww-right, Mom, I’ll call.

~ ~ ~

So I phoned the number that Lainey gave me and it was answered on the second ring by a confident female voice.

“This is Kathleen – how can I help you?”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was kind of taken aback by the straightforward answer, so much so that it seems I forgot my own name.

“Uhh, hi, uhh... Kathy? This is Lainey Jenning’s son. She said that I should ... that you’d be expecting...”

“Oh, hi, Jim.” She didn’t seem the least bit put off by my awkwardness and I didn’t pick up on any sarcasm or ridicule in her voice. “Lainey refers to you as ‘Jimmy,’ but I’m gonna guess that with most people you prefer ‘Jim,’ right?”

Like I said, her voice – Kathy’s – was confident and mature. Not “mature-old,” but the voice of a woman, not a girl. And I might be mistaken but I got a sense of kindness and intelligence and maybe just a little bit of humor in it. But that might just have been my imagination.

I tried to put an appreciative little chuckle in my voice, like she and I were sharing an inside joke.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve been ‘Jimmy’ too long for her to break the habit. So yes, Jim.”

I thought that got things back on track.

But then something else hit me. She called her Lainey. I seem to remember that Mom always called herself “Elaine” when she’s dealing with clients and professional contacts. She must think a lot of this Kathy to share our “personal” nickname with her.

Time to get down to business. Unlike my muddled introduction, this part I had worked out fairly thoroughly before I phoned.

“Lainey said she thought you and I might enjoy meeting each other, so I wondered if you’d be free for dinner this Saturday night?”

She replied without any awkward hesitation.

“No, I’m sorry, I’m not free Saturday night...,” and I felt a rush of relief – and a sense of disappointment, “ ... but I’m free Friday night if you are...,” and I felt a rush again, but this time it was the rush of the disappointment being replaced by... what? ... by optimism?

That evening Lainey asked, with a note of skepticism in her voice, if I’d called her friend Kathy.

“Yes, Lainey, I called her, and we had a nice conversation.”

“And...?”

I had to smile.

“And we’ve arranged to have dinner this Friday.”

“Good.”

~ ~ ~

We arranged for me to pick her up at 6:30, with dinner reservations at Rigby’s for 7:00, carefully selected because it’s casual and has excellent food, a menu with something for everyone, not too cheap and not too expensive, so no pressure there. AND, it’s located almost exactly half-way between Kathy’s place and mine.

I told Lainey what we had arranged. She seemed pleased but didn’t get over-enthusiastic – just enthusiastic enough.

We arranged for me to pick up Kathy at 6:30 Friday. I pulled up in front of her building and was ready to park the car and go up to her building, so I was surprised when I saw an attractive woman coming down the sidewalk. She looked toward me and smiled, so I figured that she must be Kathy.

From what I could see, she had blond hair – somewhere between “honey blond” and “straw blond” – and I guessed her to be about the same height as Lainey. As she got closer I could see that she was wearing a beige linen skirt and what looked like a short matching jacket with a blue blouse under it. She got in before I could even get out of the car to open the door for her but she didn’t seem the least bit put off by this.

And once she was in the car I could get a look at her face. Pretty. A portrait photographer might even capture an angle that one could call beautiful, but actually, I’d prefer pretty. In fact, she looked like I imagined her when we were talking on the phone – kind, intelligent, with a sly sense of humor.

I took a leap.

“Kathy?”

“Nailed it!”

I liked her already.

She was easy enough to get to know, and we fell into easy conversation. On the drive to the restaurant it was about the traffic, and “How long have you lived there?” “Where did you live before that?” “Oh, yeah, I’ve always wondered about that place – what’s it like?”

And then we were at the restaurant.

Once the hostess seated us and we had a look at our menus we decided that we really didn’t want cocktails and instead ordered a bottle of sparkling Spanish Cava (“Good choice, madam!”). We decided on two appetizers, a whole red snapper to share, along with a bottle of a nice, seafood-friendly white wine.

While we were waiting for our appetizers (“Starters,” the menu called them) Kathy stood up and began removing her jacket, not waiting for me to get up and help her.

“I have to apologize – I got held up at work and by the time I got home there wasn’t time for me to change and I didn’t want to be late for our first ... didn’t want to be late.”

I’m liking this woman more and more.

Also, I liked how she looked after she took her suit jacket off.

We talked about the usual – her job, my job, her family, my family (knowing Lainey she already had a head start on that, although she certainly didn’t know all the details!), her latest vacation – a trip to France last year. (I couldn’t tell her about Lainey’s and my last vacation – to a resort where we quickly met another couple who were there for the same reason we were).

Somewhere over our snapper she asked, “So, it must have been strange, having your mom setting you up on a date. Why did you finally go for it and call me?”

I thought for a moment, but I already had the answer for that one.

“She told me that if I didn’t call you, that I’d be making a big mistake. And, yeah, I was really skeptical, but I’ve known Lainey all my life, and bottom line, I trust her judgement, on virtually everything,” I reached across the table and for the very first time I touched Kathy’s hand, “Including her judgement about women.”

Then, “How about you – what made you decide to give her your number and let her tell me to call you.”

She looked like she’d already asked herself this question. And like me, she had her answer handy.

“I’ve known Lainey four years now...,” and then she stopped in mid-thought. “You know, I’ve known her for four years but I’ve only been calling her ‘Lainey’ for the past year? Anyhow, like I said, I’ve known her four years and I like her, of course, but I really admire her because – well, for lots of reasons. And I thought, if her son was anything like her then maybe I owe it to myself to meet you.”

We talked some more, took our time finishing our shared Amaretto cheesecake, finished with espressos, and drove back to her apartment. A goodnight kiss seemed appropriate. It wasn’t a polite “Thank you for a lovely evening” kiss. And it wasn’t a romantic or passionate kiss. It was a “real” kiss. It was an “I like you” kiss.

Then, that awkward moment when two people are deciding how to leave things. But the moment didn’t last too long when Kathy said, “Let’s give it a couple of days. Don’t call me, okay?” But then she leaned over and gave me another kiss, quick but on the lips, turned, and went inside.

Monday evening I got a call from Kathy. She suggested that we have dinner Saturday (but then added quickly, almost embarrassed, “But only if you’re free,”).

I told Lainey. She seemed pleased – but not surprised.

~ ~ ~

Before I left home Saturday evening to pick up Kathy, Lainey “casually” mentioned that she was going to be going out with friends from work, “So if you two decide to come back here I won’t be in the way.”

Damn, she’s good!

So Saturday came around. I’d been busy at work all week so I didn’t have too much time to think – or overthink. But as the work week ended I found myself looking forward to seeing Kathy again. Also, wondering where – and if – things might be going.

I parked at the curb, went into her building, and buzzed Kathy’s apartment.

And I have to admit, I was experiencing a few butterflies on the elevator ride up. But those disappeared immediately when Kathy opened the door and grabbed my hand and led me inside.

“Right on time.” She gave me a quick “hello” kiss on the cheek. “Give me a sec to make sure everything’s turned off.”

So far, so good.

She disappeared into another room, then, “All set – let’s go!” She grabbed her bag on the way out the door. Unlike the sophisticated Coach purse she had the first time (I recognized it from the logo – it said “Coach”), this time her “purse” was something quite a bit larger. Was she expecting that we’d have lots of left-overs to take home?

As she led us down the hall to the elevator I had a better chance to see – and appreciate – what she was wearing this evening. And what she was wearing was a blue leather jacket and matching blue leather pants that fit her in the way that only good leather pants can fit a good looking woman.

In the car she finally asked where we were going and I realized that I’d been so focused on just the fact of seeing her again that I never mentioned where we were going. I remembered that she said she vacationed in France last year so I took a leap and thought that she might enjoy some place that served French food, and I thought of a nearby “bistro”-style cafe named le Titi de Paris.

The hostess led us to our booth. Before we sat down Kathy took off her jacket, and that’s when I saw what she was wearing – a sleeveless knit pullover top that was just sheer enough for me to see the midnight blue brassiere underneath.

Obviously, she had dressed to impress – and to communicate.

It being a booth, I couldn’t pull her chair out for her but I felt some sort of gentlemanly gesture was called for so I held out my hand and she let me hold that large purse she was carrying until she got settled in the booth and could take it back from me.

Being a French restaurant, we were morally obligated to begin by selecting our wine. Since Kathy had visited France last year I asked if she’d select a wine for us. In turn, she did it the French way and asked the young lady who was our server what she would recommend. The young woman suggested a light red, “... perhaps a Beaujolais?” Kathy asked if they happened to have a Fleurie. Of course, our server said, “Excellent choice!” and went off, returning in a few minutes with a bottle of a three-year-old Fleurie from an estate I’d never heard of (in other words, like most wines).

I won’t dwell on the wine, or what we ordered, or how good it was (it was!). Conversation was easy, and we’d both drunk just enough to feel “at ease” but not enough for either of us to be impaired, and we both knew even before our server brought our Grand Marnier mousse dessert that we would be going home together.

Without talking about it, we drove back to my house. When I pulled into the garage I noticed that Lainey’s car was there. I guessed that one of her friends had come by and picked her up for the evening. I opened the door for Kathy and we walked into the house through the kitchen.

But when we entered the living room we were both surprised to find Lainey sitting there with a tall glass in her hand.

“Oh – hi. I thought you were going out with your friends for the evening.”

“We were, but then Janine had to emergency baby-sit for her daughter and Frankie wasn’t feeling good so Grace and I went out for one drink and then decided to call it an evening.

“And speaking of drinks, can I get you two something?” She held up her glass and said reassuringly, “It’s just pineapple juice.”

We agreed that that sounded good. We sat down on the big couch while Lainey went out to the kitchen, where she seemed to take her sweet time getting the pineapple juice. That gave Kathy and me the chance to adjust to Lainey’s unexpected presence – me, because I thought she was going to be out for the evening, Kathy, because she had no idea the Lainey and I live together.

“I didn’t know your mom lived with you. How long?”

I told her how long, and about how her old house was too much for her alone.

And the thing was, Kathy didn’t seem the least bit put off by the fact that my mother lived with me. Furthermore, she didn’t show any signs that my mom being here would cramp her style – or ours.

“I think it’s cool, that you two live together. She’s a great lady – you’re both pretty lucky.”

Then she smiled this kind of sideways, wicked smile.

“And speaking of lucky,...”

She stood up and took my hand and led us off to my bedroom.

Kathy had taken off her jacket when we first sat down in the living room, and that left her standing there in that sheer sleeveless pullover and those leather pants that encased her legs and hips and ass so lovingly.

“Would you help me with this?” She raised her arms.

I reached for her and then stopped. All of a sudden, I was afraid – afraid that my fingertips had gone icy cold.

I don’t know how she knew, but she knew.

She smiled. “A few cold fingers never hurt anyone.” She thought. “Well, not much, anyway.”

She took my shy, possibly chilled hands and led them to the hem of her top. I v-e-e-e-r-y carefully grasped the thin fabric and began to inch it upward. Again, Kathy smiled and took my hands in hers, and together we lifted her top ‘til we reached the point where she had to raise her arms and I finished lifting it off over her head – leaving her standing there in that sheer blue bra and those amazing leather pants.

I stepped back and looked. I hope my appreciation showed.

Kathy started to undo the gold clasp on those fabulous leather pants, and when I saw her fumbling with it I was just glad she did it herself and not make me figure it out. She had to peel the pants over her hips, then stepped out of them and tossed them over a chair, leaving her standing there in just her bra and her panties.

And her “panties,” if you could even call them that, consisted of two blue strings around her hips attached to a strip of silk that couldn’t have been more than an inch wide running down between the cheeks of her firm, shapely ass and up her front where it disappeared in between the lips of her completely bald pussy.

And I’m wondering, “Is this what Lainey had in mind when she told me to call Kathy?”

“Your turn.”

Huh?

Rather than trying to explain, Kathy raised her hands and I stood there while Kathy unbuttoned my shirt. I had already taken off my sport coat in the living room, and in less than a minute I was shirtless. I only hoped that I passed inspection.

I was startled when she gave one nipple a quick pinch, then licked it quickly and moved her hands to my belt and in three seconds had it unbuckled and I thought “She’s pretty good at this.” And then I thought, “How do I feel about that?” I decided that all things considered, it was pretty good to be with a woman who knows her way around a man’s belt buckle.

Unbutton, unzip, sliding my pants down to the floor, and in one smooth move grabbing my briefs and skinning them down ‘til they joined my slacks on the floor.

She dropped to her knees and without using her hands took my thickening cock in her mouth. And it was warm, and wet, and I thought, “Are there going to be more times like this? How many...?”

She put her hands on my ass and squeezed, and I suddenly thought, “I hope they’re firm enough!” Then I realized that I seem to be very concerned about Kathy and whether she finds me “satisfactory” or not.

Kathy, in turn, seemed untroubled by any such concerns. With her hands steadying my ass, she basically mouth-fucked herself, stopping every now and then to probe the little hole with the tip of her tongue before seeing how far she can get her mouth down on my cock.

I wasn’t worried about cumming too soon – I was so excited I knew there was no way I was going to be able to cum now.

Kathy backed her mouth off me one final time, and that was my cue to put my hands beneath her arms and guide her up, and to kiss the lips that had been caressing me so lovingly just seconds ago.

She glanced down, and I got the idea that she was telling me it was time to remove her bra – for me to remove her bra!

I was baffled.

I was so afraid of doing something – wrong.

She smiled and looked down, just the slightest bit, and that was the hint I needed to know that it was a front hook-clasp. I know how to do that. No longer worried about cold fingers, I unhooked the clasp and guided the fine blue lace off over her shoulders and let it drop to the bed.

She stood there and let me lean my head down and touch my lips to the tips of her breasts – to the soft skin and the stiff nipples. And that’s what I did – I touched them, leaving my lips pressed to her, simply appreciating, relishing the feel of ... her.

And I think I did the right thing. Instead of trying to demonstrate my “amazing erotic skills and techniques” I ended up just showing her how much I appreciated the feel of her body – that it was pleasing to me, without requiring some kind of elaborate performance. I knew it when she put her arms gently around my head – didn’t pull me against her – just ... touched me.

But then those arms moved down to my shoulders, and with just the slightest pressure told me that now I was to move my attentions ... lower. I closed my lips over one nipple and gently slid them off and took the slim strings that secured her “panties” and slid them down over her hips before peeling the minuscule patch of blue silk out from between the smooth lips of her pussy. She spread her legs, just a little, and the skimpy patch of silk fell to the carpet.

First, I just pressed my face into her, feeling the contact, smelling her scent. Gentle hands on my head told me to “try harder.” I grabbed her ass cheeks – not the hard-body ass of a fitness freak, but the firm flesh of a healthy thirty-something woman – and held them as she’d held me just a few moments ago.

And I pressed into her harder, and I tried to insinuate my tongue into her pussy, to taste her for the first time. And she tasted like ... healthy young woman. Healthy aroused young woman!

And this wasn’t doing it at all. She followed my lead as I guided her back onto the bed, and without and further guidance she spread – opened – her legs and let me in, let me bury my face in the heart of her sex.

I didn’t even have to try – just followed my instincts. Apparently my instincts were perfect as far as Kathy was concerned.

“Oh, fuck, Jim!” She put one hand on my head and pressed me into her, almost to the point where I was afraid I might be hurting her. I know the pressure was hurting my nose!

“Oh, that’s it, Baby, eat me, Jimmy – oh, fuck – that’s so damn...,”

... and she came.

Yeah, I’d licked her pussy and tongue-fucked her and sucked on her clit for maybe twenty seconds and she came. Hard. And I had two thoughts: One, that was fuckin’ amazing!

And two, I guess we – Kathy and I – are sexually compatible.

And before I could think – or overthink – the matter her fingers were under my shoulders and she was pulling me – not “guiding” me – pulling me – up her naked body, grabbing my cock and forcing it against her wet pussy, trying to jam it inside her.

“Put it it me, Jim! I been thinking about this all the way to the restaurant. I want it, Jim!” And then, “I want you...”

I helped her guide my cock into her, and that’s when I felt the heat. And she was slick – I felt some of this when I was on my knees licking her, but now, on my cock. I felt her hands on my ass and her nails in my flesh and her legs around me, and with another lunge of her hips I was inside her.

And it felt like ... like home. Our “parts” meshed perfectly, and when she said, “Now, Jim, let’s do it.

“But first...,”

She took my head in her hands and pulled me down to her, and she kissed me. And then we kissed. It wasn’t some tongue-swapping orgiastic extravaganza. It was warm, and yielding, and... personal, and it conveyed a message – the message that this kiss is special, and that the two of us are going to be together now, and that we’re going to be sharing many, many more kisses like this.

“Now, let’s fuck.”

And that’s what we did. She didn’t say, “Fuck me, Jim.” She said “Let’s fuck,”

We started moving, and in about two moves we hit our own rhythm, and I found myself luxuriating in the soft, warm feel of Kathy’s arms around me and the soft, warm embrace of her cunt around my cock. At first, I just closed my eyes and let myself get lost in the sensations, but then I wanted to look at her, and when I opened my eyes I saw that she was looking at me.

She was smiling, a warm smile that seemed to say, “Hello, Friend.”

And, somehow, that seemed right. I mean, after all – what’s better than friends fucking?

Also, Kathy really seemed to be into it, to the point where she was getting kind of loud. And the thing was, she didn’t seem to care – didn’t care if my mom heard us. Heck, maybe she even wanted Lainey to hear us...

And then, “Anytime, Jim – I’m ready,” and just to make the point, she gave me another hip thrust.

And this time I was ready.

“Sure?”

“Sure, Lover – whenever you’re ready.”

And I knew that that would be now. I felt my cock start to spasm, and when it did Kathy must have felt it and she tightened her arms and legs around me, and I knew that now was the time to let go – to release the tension – and the desire – that had been building up inside me since I left to pick up Kathy earlier this evening.

“Oh, Jim – that was lovely.”

And that’s exactly what it was – lovely.

But apparently it wasn’t all.

Apparently, I had been anticipating something like this evening for a while, because after my delicious cum inside Kathy’s delicious cunt it seems I’d lost only a little of my... anticipation.

“What’s this? Still hungry, Tiger?”

Yes, I think this tiger still has a bit of an appetite left. I re-focused my attention of the feelings my cock was experiencing – the warmth, the satiny wetness – the internal embrace.

I leaned forward and kissed her, and she looked happy that I’d kissed her.

As Kathy probably hoped, I was a little less “frantic” this time around. We hit our rhythm again, only after just a minute of this Kathy said, “My turn to drive now” and grabbed my shoulders and rolled me over onto my back without us ever losing contact – by which I mean, she managed to keep me inside her while we rolled over.

And this meant that I now got to look at Kathy, and look at the soft honey-blond hair and the nicely-shaped medium breasts without the slight hint of sag – and to look at her pretty face.

And right now that pretty face had a pleased smile on it, a smile that kind of said, “I know some things that you don’t know ... but, you’ll learn,” and she started shifting her hips around on me, like she was testing or trying to find the spots that touched the right spots, and when she found them she would either shift her hips back and forth on me, making my cock touch those right spots inside her – and make my cock rub against her clit in just the right way. Or else she would swivel her hips in a circular motion, making my cock touch the other right places inside her – and make her clit rub against my cock in just the right way.

And if I closed my eyes I could almost picture my cock inside her, moving around, touching “just the right spots,” making her feel good – and making me feel good about making her feel good.

And then I could open my eyes and look at that pretty face and see the pleasure that using me was giving her, and that made me feel real good.

But now it appeared that she had managed to finished touching all the right spots and was ready for the climax, so to speak. She moved her right hand, which had been on my shoulder, pinning it down to the bed, and slid it down my chest, giving my left nipple a vigorous tweak along the way – she laughed when I lurched in pain because that just made me lunge up deeper into her cunt.