Chapter 4

The next night was Friday, and by unspoken agreement, I went with Mrs. Carson and sat beside her to watch her son play football.

We had a good time. There was no hanky panky, or innuendo at all. We just sat and cheered, and she had me explain some things about the rules. She booed after Scott got called for being offside, but by the time I had explained it to her they'd already done another play.

She paid for hot dogs and drinks. It wasn't cold yet, so we weren't bundled up. She was wearing a sweater, though, and I could tell she was braless under it. She didn't point it out, but she let me look. Other guys looked too. There were lots of glances cast toward her, happy ones by men, and some frowning ones by some women. Those women were with the men who liked looking. I felt proud that she was sitting with me.

We won, and that was great. I took her to the door that led to the locker rooms. She started to go in.

"You don't want to do that," I said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Bunch of naked boys, taking showers?" I suggested.

"Goody," she said, smiling. "Didn't Mr. Archibald say it was normal for me to lust after boys like that?"

"Actually, he said it was normal for them to lust after you," I said. "He never said how the women feel about things."

"Of course not," she said, her voice suddenly dark. "They never care what the woman thinks. She's just a baby chamber."

"I care," I said.

She flashed me a grin. "Of course you do. You want to kiss me again."

"I do," I admitted. My embarrassment about feeling things for her had faded away after that kiss.

"And see me naked again," she whispered.

"Desperately," I agreed.

She laughed, and then her face got serious.

"You can't fall in love with me, Bobby."

I actually thought she was messing around.

"Why not?" I asked. "Think about it. You're perfect. You're not going with anybody. You're as hot as a firecracker. I couldn't possibly do any better than you. I'd be insane not to fall in love with you!"

It was the look on her face that made me realize I'd misread things.

"I'm serious, Bobby. It would never work. I'm too old for you."

"I know," I said, my voice resigned. I had known that for years. That was easy to agree to.

I think she thought she'd hurt my feelings, because she went on.

"I wish it could work out," she said. "You're a real catch, Bobby. You're kind, and generous, and a gentleman through and through. You're not half bad looking either, and you're a delicious kisser." She reached out and touched me. "Some smart girl is going to snap you up, and you're going to rock her world, Bobby. I had my chance, and I chose wrong. If I'd chosen a man like you, I'd still be married and probably have five or six kids by now."

You can't feel real down when a MILF like Mrs. Carson says things like that about you. In fact, you might be tempted to say something in an effort to keep her going.

"Five or six kids?" I said, putting skepticism into my voice.

"At least," she said, still trying to make me feel better. "I'd never be able to resist you if you said you wanted another baby."

Suddenly what I heard in her voice was not a woman trying to make a kid feel better. I heard something that made me think she actually meant that.

"Wow," I said.

"If you could can what you have," she said, "you'd be a millionaire within a year."

"Now you're just being silly," I said.

Her face was suddenly right in front of mine. I could smell the hot dog on her breath.

"No ... I am not," she said. "Nobody wishes this could work out more than I do. But I know they would never let us do that."

Then she was back again, which was good, because the door crashed open and a couple of guys came charging out, still celebrating their victory.

We waited for Scott, who was high on the win too. Scott said we had to go to the Dairy Swirl for ice cream, because it was a tradition when the team won. It seemed like the whole school was there. Whoever owned the Dairy Swirl, he was thankful when we won, because he sold a ton of ice cream on those nights.

But what was most interesting to me was that Scott went out of his way to introduce his mother to as many people as he could.

"This is my mom!" he said, proudly to almost everyone he knew.

I saw some of those men who had stared at her grasp her hand and shake it. They said things about how well her son had played, and about how proud she must be of him, but their eyes were on her breasts. I checked, myself, but her nipples weren't showing through the sweater any more. Her breasts jiggled when she moved, but somehow, when that happened, her arm was across them. It almost looked like she was trying to manage that jiggle, but that didn't make any sense. None of the other women were doing that. Their breasts were just out there for everybody to look at.

We went home to their house. Scott was manic, and having a hard time settling down. Finally Mrs. Carson said she was worn out by his energy and was going to bed. She asked us to keep it down to a dull roar. We promised, but Scott was loud until well after midnight.

When he finally crashed, he crashed hard. He'd played the whole game, and then run around like a chicken with his head cut off for four or five more hours. I'd heard him snore before, but not like this. He was so loud I finally went and lay down on the couch in the living room.

I woke up when Mrs. Carson sat down on the edge of the couch and put her hand on my chest. It felt warm.

"What happened?" she asked. "You okay?"

"Scott was snoring so loud I thought my eardrums would break," I said, stretching.

She was wearing a robe that morning. I'd never seen it before. I could also see her knees, which meant she wasn't wearing her regular nightgown ... my favorite nightgown.

"I've never seen that before," I said, reaching to touch the silky fabric of her robe. It was lavender, and had a big flower or something embroidered over her left breast.

"I ordered it online," she said. "It's silk."

"It's beautiful," I said.

"Thank you," she said. "I got new jammies too. Wanna see them?"

I nodded.

She opened the robe and displayed what I believe are called Baby doll Pajamas. Be assured, they aren't really pajamas. Even at seventeen I could tell they weren't really for sleeping in. She stood up, holding the robe open. It actually looked a little like a bikini, except that it didn't hide anything at all. It was made of black lace, or something like lace. The bra was bursting with her breasts, and I could see right through the panties to that little strip of hair that pointed to her pussy.

"I take it you approve," she said, in that super low, alto voice.

"You could say that," I whispered.

"Good," she said. "I hoped you would."

"You have to be joking," I said.

"Your opinion is very important to me," she said, firmly.

"You are very important to me," I said. I still have no idea where this stuff came from.

That hawk look came into her eyes again.

"You're dangerous. I almost made a very serious mistake last night."

"What mistake?" I asked.

"Never you mind," she said. "You want some breakfast?"

"I want you to take off those beautiful new jammies and kiss me again," I said. I barely controlled a wince. I was quite sure I'd gone insane.

She turned her head and looked at the front of the gym shorts I had worn to sleep in. The front was obscenely tented up, due to her new jammies. She bent over and her hand moved to that lump like it was the most normal thing in the world. I watched that hand descend and explore the lump. Her hand found the length of my penis, and her fingers closed to squeeze it, experimentally.

"Yes," she said, squeezing again., "You're very dangerous, Bobby. I think I'd better go get dressed before I make breakfast."

She let go of my prick, which wrenched a sigh of unhappiness from my throat. She giggled as she stood up and caught me watching her breasts.

But she leaned over again and gave me a really good kiss on the lips.

Her lips pulled back and her face hovered over mine.

"Dangerous," she whispered.

Then she kissed me again, a much too short kiss, and stood up and walked away.

I had to jerk off right there on the couch.

I have no idea what might have happened if my dad hadn't gotten into an accident and broken both his legs and one arm. It tore him up pretty badly, and suddenly I had to help Mom take care of him. For the rest of that school year, I spent all my free time taking care of Dad, first while he was in the casts, and then during his physical therapy. I still saw Scott and Mrs. Carson, because he came over when he could and helped out too, and she brought Mom casseroles and baked bread and stuff like that. They became pretty good friends, in fact, but of course I didn't get to kiss her any more, or see her naked or nearly naked. She didn't fool around at my house. Other than a couple of looks that melted my heart, she played it straight. Or at least I thought so.