Block Mom

“Baby-” Emilia started.

As he headed for the hallway and the bathroom beyond, he muttered to himself, “We all have cars I paid for. A house to live in, that I paid for. And she wants to feel more goddamn special than that.”

The comments stung, and though she did work, there was a seed of truth to them. Back when she was eighteen and pregnant with Landon, they both worked because they had to. Their parents were supportive, but limited in what they could do to help. She hustled her ass off at two restaurants, and Jim was in his last year of college, working in the evenings and on the weekends to chip in. By the time the baby came around, he was done with school, and they’d survived — barely.

One night, they were too broke to afford diapers and had to ask for help from relatives to buy some, Jim swore to her as they drove back home that someday she’d have the life she deserved. It was no empty promise. In another year, he had a great job working with a construction company. In eight, they bought the house. Five years ago, the construction company folded, and he swapped to a lesser-paying job with the electric company, but they still lived a comfortable middle-class lifestyle. Emilia’s earnings from the florist’s shop paled in comparison. It was barely enough to cover the power, water, garbage, and cell phones.

When she heard the shower start up, her tears started flowing. Not because what Jim said hurt, but because of the thoughts she had when he was fucking her. She wasn’t cheating on him, not quite, but in her own mind, she already knew on some level she couldn’t withstand a summer full of advances from the boys if they were serious in pursuing her.

When Jim came back in and saw the glistening tear tracks, he stopped short of the bed, and looked ashamed of himself. “Aw, Jesus, baby, I’m sorry. I was angry.”

God, that made Emilia want to cry all the harder. She shook her head, unable to speak.

“Hey, how about I call ahead and see if we can get a table at Crawford’s sometime? Make a night out of it? Go dancing, maybe?”

That brought a weak chuckle out of Emilia. “I think we’d be the oldest people on the dance floor by fifteen years, hon.”

“You’re thirty-eight, not dead,” he said. “Come on. Let’s have some fun.”

“Okay,” Emilia said, her smile much more natural now. “Yes. Absolutely.”

* * *

Milo lived the furthest away from the Candless’s place, but was still only three blocks away. He didn’t bother driving, but jogged over, nodding to a couple neighbors he passed by. There were some other hotties on the street, but none of them compared to Emilia. From the first day when they were twelve Landon invited him over to play video games, Mrs. Candless had been Milo’s number one fantasy. He damn near bit his fist every time he thought of her big juicy ass and the tits he wanted to suck.

It wasn’t just her hourglass figure, either, but all of her. Emilia was sexy right up until she smiled with those tight lips, and then she transformed into something beautiful. Combined with the gentle crinkle of her dark eyes, she could have been a model. Most their teenage years, she carried a little extra softness to her, a fullness in the thighs and a little pooch to the stomach. He’d liked that softness and kind of missed it, but he had to admit, the tightening up she’d done really made her all that much sexier.

How many times had he fantasized about walking in on her when she was in the kitchen, in nothing but her underwear, or maybe wearing one of her aprons? She fulfilled a deep, dark lust in him for a motherly type. Seeing her that first day, having her serve him and Landon up some cookies while they played, it drove him towards discovering his very first and greatest kink — older woman, and specifically, as the years went on, hot moms.

At college, the real reason he broke up with his girlfriend was pretty simple, all things considered — she found out Milo had been fucking a professor, a single mom, regularly. She’d never found out about the forty-something real estate agent or her best friend, a thirty-five-year-old stay-at-home MILF. That was probably for the best. Their fight had been pretty ugly as it was. And objectively, his girlfriend’s astonishment was right. The cougars, to just about any other guy, wouldn’t have held a candle to his girlfriend’s long legs, bubble butt, or her angelic face, but given the choice between her young tight body and the cougars, Milo would pick the cougars every time.

Mrs. Candless was the one who started all those helpless fantasies. And now, finally, Milo felt like he was on the verge of fucking her.

I’m sorry, Landon, he murmured to himself, but the apology was a distant, miniscule thing compared to the sheer joy and rampaging lust pounding in his skull.

He knocked.

Mrs. Candless wasn’t home.

“Fuck,” he muttered. But as he started off her porch, her familiar Kia turned a corner. She honked and he waved. Her garage door rolled up, and he ducked under it to greet her when she pulled in.

Emilia looked pleasantly surprised when Milo opened her car door for her. She accepted his hand and smiled as he helped her out of the car.

“My sweet boy,” she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Not so sweet gawking at you in that skirt,” he admitted. “You look fantastic.”

And Emilia did, too. The white skirt wasn’t particularly short, but it clung to her curvy butt and waist. A shorter black and white striped top married the skirt at her waist, showing off her new, narrower stomach. Over it all she wore a cute middy jean jacket.

Emilia blushed, and swatted his chest. “Stop. No, wait, keep going.” He laughed, and she gestured at the door behind him. He got that for her too, and openly stared at her legs in her hosiery, the muscles made even more taut by the high heels she wore.

“This for work?” he asked.

“Yes, sort of. A wedding expo. We had a small booth there, giving out flowers to all the women who wanted one. Which is all of them.” They headed through the laundry room and into the kitchen. Emilia tossed aside her purse, and unslung her jacket. “Have you eaten? I’ve been on my feet all day so I don’t feel like cooking, but I was thinking I’d order in.”

“Sounds great to me,” Milo said. “How about a foot massage while we wait?”

Emilia smiled faintly at that. “Mm. I’d like that. Promise me it’ll just be my feet you massage?”

“Absolutely not.”

She burst out laughing, and Milo joined in. While she fetched a bottle of lotion and ditched her pantyhose and heels, Milo browsed restaurants on his phone.

“What are you in the mood for?” he called.

“Something not carb crazy and I don’t want a whole bunch of leftovers around the house if it’s just me. So no pizza or Chinese.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

They settled on a new restaurant neither had tried yet, and ordered online. Emilia came back into the living room, legs now bare and freshly lotioned. It gave them an enticing gleam, and Milo tried not to think about running his tongue up and down the length of her calves — and higher.

“Let me get my debit card,” she said.

“Already ordered,” Milo said.

“What? No, Milo-”

“We told you, we’re taking care of you this summer,” he said.

“You need to save your money for college,” Emilia admonished him.

“I got a job with Jaxton at a call center. I can treat my favorite block mom if I want to.”

That was true, but Milo was leaving out that he got a grand deposited every month from the real estate agent he’d been sleeping with. Sugar momma money that hadn’t even been his idea. She called it a down payment on his cock for the next semester. For some reason she got off on treating him. Fine by Milo.

“Well, thank you, hon,” Emilia said, reaching over to squeeze his knee. “But next time it’s on me.”

Milo caught her hand before it moved away. Her eyes widened, but he didn’t move the hand closer to his cock. Instead, he just held it in place. “Mrs. Candless, someone this summer needs to treat you the way you deserve.”

She slipped her hand free and patted his. “Then let’s start with that foot massage.”

He nodded, and accepted the bottle of lotion from her. Milo wanted to say something. To tell her the three of them weren’t nice guys. That given half a chance they would use her and move right the fuck on, because that was what they did.

But he didn’t. In the end, Milo told her to lift her feet up onto his lap, and he hated himself for it a tiny bit, but he was under no illusion that Emilia Candless was innocent in all this either. She could make her own decisions. No one was going to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do — or beg them to do.

And at the end of the summer, when they left for school again and if they’d fucked her brains out — and he had no doubt now they were going to — Emilia Candless would be left physically satisfied with her life in absolute ruins. Because that was what they did too.

They used women. They made no apologies. And Milo made none now.

He squeezed out a generous amount of lotion into his hands and warmed it up while Emilia grabbed the remote for the TV and snuggled up onto her side. Her feet rested along his thigh. She was too curled up for him to get a peek up her skirt, but that was all right for now. He was touching her. It was a start.