MILF: Wrong Kind of Love

by Erin Noelle

  For the rest of the lunch, I mull over Stella’s words, trying to buy into what she’s selling. She’s right; for so long, I’ve been Mark’s wife and Adam’s mom. I’m not really sure who Mia is any longer. Other than the time I spend at the gym and in my studio, I haven’t given much thought to what really makes me happy.

  Maybe it’s time to find out.

  Never in my life have I been unhappier to see my best friend than I was last night. Talk about a cock-block…I was right there—eyelevel with that perfect little pussy, the sweet taste of her arousal coating my tongue, her hands buried in my hair, her soft moans begging for more—and then for it all to end in the blink of an eye…crying fucking shame.

  Seriously, I almost cried. Then, I contemplated making a late-night visit to Jess, simply to relieve the severe case of blue balls I had working, but I knew that was a real dick move, considering I’m planning on breaking things off with her the next time I see her. Plus, I know she could make me come, but it wouldn’t satisfy my hunger. My sexual taste buds are maturing and my palate now craves a more complex, more exquisite flavor—a flavor that only the hot little MILF who sleeps down the hall can fulfill.

  I may be losing my mind.

  I haven’t seen Mia since we both ran off last night. She was gone before I woke up and hasn’t come home since. I know, because I haven’t left the house all day, not wanting to take the chance of missing her. The longer I let her go before getting her back in my arms, the longer she’ll have to convince herself what we did was a mistake and that we shouldn’t do it again. I need to strike fast, need to remind her how much she enjoyed having my hands and mouth on her.

  My dick gets fucking hard just thinking about it.

  “Hey, man,” Adam knocks on the doorframe as he strides into my room, “wanna grab a bite for dinner? Amber texted to see what we’re up to tonight.”

  Just hearing her name makes me go limp, and it pisses me off Jess is using her roommate and Adam to try to see me. I knew something was up when I hadn’t heard from her since this morning.

  I glance up from the Braves game I’m half-ass watching and shake my head. “Nah, I’m not really feeling all that good. I think I’m gonna hang out here, but you go on ahead.”

  He drops his gaze down to his feet and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then closes it. Nodding, he slowly turns around and walks out. “All right, dude. I’m gonna shower and get ready. Let me know if you change your mind.”

  Feeling like a jackass for blowing him off, I call out, “Hey, you never told me if you heard back from that architect firm about the job.”

  His head reappears in the doorway, a wide grin spread across his face. “Yeah, they emailed me today. I go in Thursday for a second interview. They’ve narrowed it down to three of us.”

  I smile back and raise my fist up to give him an air bump. “That’s awesome. Let’s go out for drinks to celebrate when you get it.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Let me know if you decide to come out tonight. We’ll just be hanging out at Trapeze,” he replies before disappearing for good.

  And now I’m back to waiting. She can’t stay gone forever.

  It’s a little after eight when the sound of the front door closing wakes me up from the nap I wasn’t planning on taking. Apparently, doing absolutely nothing all day long is very exhausting.

  I leap out of the bed and take a quick glimpse in the mirror, straightening my shirt and finger-styling my hair before heading downstairs. I’m honestly not sure what to expect from Mia, if she’ll pretend like nothing happened or want to address the situation, but her avoiding me and the house all day tells me she’s probably reluctant to let it transpire again.

  I need to convince her otherwise.

  With her back to me amidst a sea of overflowing plastic grocery bags, she’s bent over in the refrigerator, rearranging the contents to make room for the massive amount of food she’s just bought. The shirt she has on has ridden up on her hips, leaving me a clear view of her shapely ass, which fills out the pair of black cotton shorts she’s wearing impeccably.

  All of the blood in my body has redirected its flow to directly between my legs as I imagine what it’d be like to take her from behind, my hands grabbing hold of her hips, her back arched, presenting that tight, wet pussy to me. Fuck, I can’t go up to her with my shorts tented out like it’s housing a three-ring circus.

  “I know you’re there, Gray,” she announces before I can escape back to the safety of my room. “We need to talk.”

  Talking wasn’t really what I had in mind, but I can work with it.

  I slowly inch my way farther into the kitchen, trying desperately to think of all things non-sexy, such as yield return graphs and profit-loss spreadsheets, but with her head buried in the fridge and her ass still in the air, I’m failing epically.

  “Yeah?” I don’t mean for it to come out like a question, so I clear my throat and try again. “Yeah, we do.”

  Straightening to her full height, which can’t be more than about five-foot-five, she gradually rotates around to face me. With her firm rear no longer in my line of sight, my eyes travel up her body, lingering over her erect nipples straining against the light blue shirt, which cause me to wonder if it’s the cold air or my presence that has them aroused.

  My eyes eventually find hers, and no matter what words are about to leave her mouth, I know by the heated gaze she’s watching me with—the one that’s relishing the way I’m eye-fucking her—that she wants this as badly as I do.

  Gaining confidence, my small steps graduate into long strides until I’ve closed the distance between us in a matter of seconds. She backs up slightly, but with the large stainless appliance behind her, she’s got nowhere to go. I wait to touch her, wait until she says whatever bullshit nonsense she’s got to say to make herself feel better, before I lay my hands on her and make her forget about whatever stupid-ass, preconceived set of rules society has put on our relationship.

  Truth is I’m a man, she’s a woman, neither of us is married, and we aren’t blood-related, so as far as I’m concerned, we’re good to fucking go.

  She lifts her shaky hands from her sides and places them on my chest with a half-moan, half-sigh. Peering up at me through her thick, dark lashes, I’m reminded of the seductive power of those extraordinary blue eyes. They’re enough to bring a man to his knees when she looks like she’s looking at me right now…much like she did to me last night, and how I’m resisting the urge to do so again.

  “We have to be careful,” she murmurs softly. “Adam can’t find out. No—nobody can find out. They wouldn’t understand.”

  Wow. That was so far from what I was expecting her to say it shocks me for a minute and I just stare at her in disbelief. I was completely prepared for her to insist nothing else could happen between us, to say last night was a mistake, but now, as her words replay in my head, my dick is about to burst through my zipper with the realization that this newly-discovered fantasy of mine is truly going to happen.

  Mistaking my stunned silence for something, I’m not sure what, she drops her hands and begins to backtrack. “Unless you don’t want to, and that’s fine. I just thought—”

  My mouth covers hers, shutting her up and hopefully erasing any doubt she may have about what it is I want, but just to make sure, I push her up against the refrigerator door and press my massive erection into her.

  “Does that feel like I don’t want to?” I growl as I pull away slightly.

  Her gaze is fixated on my mouth as she shakes her head and whispers the word no. Raising my hand up under her chin, I tilt her face so that she’s forced to look in my eyes. “If you don’t want anyone to know, that’s fine, but whatever this is that’s been building between us, it’s most definitely going to happen.” I lower my forehead down to rest on hers, swiping my thumb across her supple bottom lip. “I want it. You want it. And that’s all that fucking matters to me.”

  Drawing my thumb in between her
parted lips, the tip of her tongue darts across the pad, which sends a jolt of electricity throughout my entire body. She smiles demurely as she sucks gently, knowing damn well I’m imagining how those soft lips are going to feel wrapped around my throbbing cock.

  Reluctantly, I remove my thumb and replace it with my mouth, our tongues colliding in an erotic waltz—slower, more deliberate, yet just as stimulating as our previous kisses. Her arms loop around my neck as my hands land squarely on her ass, squeezing her sweet cheeks and pulling her flush against my body.

  “Mia,” I whisper on her lips as the kiss ends, “he’ll be home soon, but he’s got an interview on Thursday. Will you be here?”

  She nods eagerly, releasing her hold on me. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

  “Good, I can’t wait.”

  Brushing my mouth across hers one last time, I smile victoriously and begin helping put away the groceries.

  And that’s exactly how Adam finds us when he walks in ten minutes later.

  TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY FLY BY. I never realized how much I needed to do before…well, it happens.

  It almost feels like I’ve gone back in time and I’m a sixteen-year-old girl all over again, planning out my first time, making certain every little detail is perfect, ensuring the moment is everything I’ve built it up to be in my head. Only I know as well as anyone, no matter how much preparing I do¸ there’s no way of knowing what’s actually going to happen.

  Losing my virginity was supposed to happen on a pillow-soft mattress sprinkled with flower petals in a candlelit room with Journey softly serenading me in the background, not on an airbed in the back of a pickup while my best friend and her boyfriend were doing the same thing in the front cab of the truck. Talk about a letdown…and a painful one at that.

  Despite that not-so-romantic memory looming in the back of my thoughts, I still want to do everything possible to present the best possible me there is to Gray. I haven’t had a first time with someone in over twenty years; not to mention, I’m a bit out of practice. I’m not quite sure the silver bullet I keep hidden in my nightstand is going to be anything close to what he’s packing, especially based on what I saw Sunday night trying to break free from his pajama pants.

  The fact that I’m not only quite a bit older than him, but the thought of all the girls he’s probably been with, has crossed my mind only a couple hundred times or so in the past couple of days. To say I’m a teeny bit apprehensive is definitely an understatement.

  Up until this point, working out has been about releasing my pent up anger and becoming a healthier person, but now, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased with the extra pounds I’ve shed and the slight hint of a six pack beginning to appear. My body is thirty-eight years old, no matter how many hours I spend in the gym, but at least it’s the closest to my mid-twenties form than it’s been in more than a decade.

  I’m trying my hardest not to overanalyze all of this, because when I really start thinking about it, the easiest thing to do would be to tell Gray we shouldn’t do this. We wouldn’t be risking Adam or anyone else finding out, nor would we be risking the relationship we currently have. Not to mention, I’m not sure what happens after. I’ve never been one to partake in casual sex, never had friends with benefits, so this is all a bit strange to me.

  “Relax and have fun.” That’s what Stella keeps telling me each time I call her, freaking out about all of this, which may or may not be close to twenty times in the last two days. The last time we spoke, she threatened to tie me to the bed Thursday morning and tell Gray to have his way with me. I screamed and told her I wasn’t into that kind of thing. She replied that was my loss before hanging up on me.

  Bitch.

  Now she’s got me worried he’s going to want to do kinky stuff I read about in books, which I’m definitely not into. Well, I don’t think I am. I mean, it sounds hot in books, but that’s just fantasy. Right? I don’t think run-of-the-mill, middle-aged women from suburbia do that kind of thing. None of my soccer-mom friends when Adam was growing up ever talked about it, but then again, all we ever talked about were finding good sales and new recipes we’d discovered. Exciting stuff.

  Wednesday night is upon me, and I’m pacing the floor in my bedroom like a nervous Nellie. Mentally, I sort through my Operation Minxy Mia checklist, confirming I’ve taken care of everything I needed to.

  Gynecologist appointment—check. Bloodwork results won’t be back in for a few days, but I’m pretty sure I’m STD-free, unless something has been lying dormant for ten months. And even though I plan on using a condom, I discussed birth control with my doctor, and we decided on a copper IUD. Since I haven’t begun to show any signs of the change, I’m still a Fertile Myrtle, as he referred to me, and the last thing I want to think about right now is a pregnancy scare.

  Victoria’s Secret—check. This trip was on Stella’s insistence, and because I really needed to go get new bras that actually fit anyway. I thought splurging on a hot little outfit would probably help me feel more confident, since I don’t think standing in front of him in a sports bra and cotton bikinis is really a turn-on.

  Once I got there, I couldn’t decide if I should go playful and flirty, or racy and seductive, afraid if I went with the first, I’d be trying too hard to look young, but the latter just really isn’t my style. Finally, the nice sales associate helped me find the perfect mixture in a cerulean blue baby-doll nightie with a matching thong. The silk-covered underwire cups with light padding help enhance my not-so-large breasts, while the sheer bodice and coordinating panties accentuate my best assets, my stomach and my butt.

  She also helped me select several sexy yet comfortable bra-and-panty combos. Nearly three hundred dollars later, I was all set…at least my boobs and va-jay-jay were.

  Day Spa—check. Even though I was just there a few weeks ago, my toes needed a fresh polish and I needed a full bikini wax, another demand of my lovely sister, who I’m beginning to wonder about. Waxing is now listed as the number two most painful thing in life I’ve experienced, directly under natural childbirth. I will never, ever put myself through that again. A razor may not give me that “smooth as a baby’s butt” feeling, but it also doesn’t resemble medieval torture techniques.

  I did see Amber during my visit, the young girl who cut and colored my hair the last time I was there, and she stopped by to visit a little bit while I was getting my pedicure. She was excited for me when I told her about my upcoming date—I didn’t know what else to call it; a scheduled fucking didn’t seem quite appropriate—and she showed me a cute way I could fix my hair. I really like her.

  Now, all that’s left to do is wait.

  Tuesday and Wednesday creep by. Seriously. These two days feel more like two weeks, two months even.

  I’ve always thought of myself as a relatively patient person. Though now that I think about it, my patience has never been truly tested. I’m used to getting what I want when I want it, and if it’s something I can’t have, I simply move on to something I can. I’ve never been in the predicament where I found something I wanted, something I can have, but I just have to wait for the right time.

  Waiting sucks.

  I’m like a kid who’s been given a new video game I’ve been dying to play, but am forced to look at it in its packaging until a certain time. It sucks. Bad.

  Apparently, I’m not as patient of a person as I originally thought.

  While I’ve been waiting, I did however do the mature, responsible thing and removed my old favorite video game from the console to make room for my new one. The old game didn’t make it easy though. It tried desperately to remind me of how much fun it was to play with, then tried to guilt me into keeping it around, and eventually resorted to begging before it forced me to be a dick and tell it that I’d simply outgrown it. I didn’t want to be an asshole, I really didn’t, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil to get shit accomplished.

  I’ve tried keeping my mind off how I acted like a dick, and the things I
plan to do with my dick come Thursday morning, by hanging out with Adam as much as possible. We’ve played golf, gone bowling, shot pool at Jerzees Sports Bar, and even seen a movie together. I’m pretty sure he assumes I want to keep my thoughts off of breaking up with Jess, and like a good friend, he hasn’t asked any questions, hasn’t pressed the issue. When I told him I did what I had to do ‘cause it was the best thing for me, he said he respected that and the conversation was over.

  What he doesn’t need to know is one of the main reasons I had to do it was so I can fuck his mom while he’s gone on a job interview. I’m not sure that would’ve gone over so well. It probably would’ve ended with me sporting a broken, bloodied nose and looking for a new place to live. Subconsciously, it might even be why I’m spending so much time with him…I already feel guilty.

  I know it sounds crazy, stupid even, but for some strange reason, I’m willing to risk it all to have her. It’s not just about the sex; I can have sex with most anyone I want. It’s about sex with her.

  She’s got me all sideways and I don’t know why. I’m hoping once I have a taste, I’ll be able to pull my head out of my ass and focus on other things in my life, important things like my upcoming senior year of college and getting an internship at a reputable investment firm. The international finance market is competitive, and a year from now if all I have is a diploma and a year studying abroad on my resume, chances are I won’t be able to find a very desirable job. I can only live off the small inheritance I received from my grandfather’s death two years ago for a little bit longer.