Surviving Winter

She got the house, but he kept the snowblower.

Her plastic shovel made no headway against the layer of ice beneath the eight inches of new snow. She’d never get the driveway clear.

“Shovel your driveway for you, ma’am?”

It was the kid from next door. She’d watched him grow up, although she never had anything to say to him, and only occasionally waved hello to his parents. It was that kind of suburb.

“I’d love for you to, but I’m broke.”

“I’ll do it for a peek at what you have under that coat.”

Momentarily stunned, she considered his insouciant smile. How old was he; eighteen, nineteen, maybe twenty?”

“You’re very fresh!”

If he only knew what she wore under the coat, she thought. What the hell; let’s see how ballsy this kid really is.

“Anyway … I’m naked under this coat.”

“Then I’ll shovel your walk too.”

“Do you know how old I am?”

He shrugged, a fall of dark hair breaking over his forehead like a spent wave. He reminded her so much of her ex, back when he was charming.

“I could be your mother.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll shovel you out for free, ma’am.”

His sudden change to a penitential tone unsettled her.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you, kid?” Just like her ex was when she first met him; full of charm and bravado to hide the fact that he was scared shitless.

The heat off his burning cheeks should have melted the ice, she thought, trying to suppress a grin.

“I guess I’ll get to shoveling,” he said. He wielded a sturdy, steel-tipped tool that pulverized the frost. Before long he had cleared a third of the driveway.

She turned and went back inside the house. She let her coat slide off her shoulders revealing her nakedness, and snatched a fleece top and pants from a laundry basket at the foot of the stairs. She made frequent trips to the front window to measure the boy’s progress.

Soon he had cleared her walk and had hefted his shovel over his shoulder and started back toward his house.

She hurried to the front door.

“Hey, where you going?”

“Uh, I’m all finished, ma’am.”

“C’mon in, I have cocoa.”

“That’s okay, ma’am, you don’t …”

“Come on in for a while … I want to give you something … even if it’s just a cup of hot chocolate.”


He leaned his shovel against the house and stepped in. His cheeks were bright red, from the cold, or was he still embarrassed by her challenge?

“Take your coat off and lay it over the chair. The kitchen’s that way.”

He set off to where she pointed.

He sat at the table as she poured two cups for them.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Mike. Hey, Mrs. Vargo, I didn’t mean anything when …”

“You didn’t? Well, that’s disappointing. I thought you really wanted to see what I had on under my coat.”

“I … well, I mean … um, well, sure I would.”

“You would?” She replied more as an admonishment.

“I … I … I’m sorry, I just meant …”


“Ma’am, you’re just …”


“Amazingly …”


“Um … pretty.” He looked away; his ears burned. If the kid was toying with her, he was putting on a good act.

For a moment she couldn’t respond. She counted to five before answering.

“Well … It’s been a while since a man told me that.”

He looked up, seemingly surprised that she had called him, if indirectly, a man.

“Uh, well, I always thought so.”

“Really? Well, I remember you when I moved here with my … husband. I don’t think you were even ten years old then.”

He smiled. “Yeah, well, I sure do remember you. You looked different from all the other women and moms on the street. I used to watch you by your pool from my room.”

“You spied on me?”

“Um … it wasn’t spying, ma’am, it was just … I couldn’t not look at you.”

She was enjoying making him uncomfortable, so much so she had to scold herself.

“Why didn’t you ever come over and introduce yourself?”

“I … I didn’t think … well, I just didn’t think you’d want anything to do with a kid. Anyway, I knew I shouldn’t have been looking at you. I just … I guess I …”

“Were you crushing on me?”

He chuckled and seemed to relax. “I guess.”

“Hmm. So, how old are you right now, Mike?”

“Almost nineteen.”

“I’m forty-one.”

“You don’t … I mean, I wouldn’t think …”

“I was that old? How old’s your mom?”



“Yeah … okay. Guess I’m kinda screwed up, thinking …”

“Thinking what?”

“What difference does it make how old a woman is … if you’re pretty, you’re pretty.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mike?”

“No! Oh, no, ma’am.”

She began to laugh. His sudden consternation was adorable. Then, with mild shock, she realized she had become moist.

“Yeah, pretty funny,” he said and gave himself a mock slap upside his head.

“Mike … I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Thanks.”


“For the compliment.”

“It’s true,” he said.

The sincerity in his voice made her heart skip, she warned herself to be careful.

“Thank you, Mike. We should have made friends a long time ago … too bad.”

“Why ‘too bad’?”

“I’m going to be putting the house up for sale in the spring. My husband and I have … divorced.”

The boy nodded. “That’s what I heard.”

“Oh, from who?”

“I overheard my mom and dad talking to some neighbors. They used to talk about you all the time … the neighbors, I mean. I guess it bothered them that you didn’t have kids and your husband always drove those snazzy cars.”

“Hmm, I might have known. I guess we never really blended in. Gabe and I really weren’t cut out to be a suburban family. I think trying too hard was what split us up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Live and learn, kid. I gotta move on; I just don’t know where to.”

“I’m leaving too,” Mike said.


“Yeah … going away to college in the fall.”

“That’s great, where?”


“Jeesh, gets cold there, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I got a hockey scholarship. I can’t wait. Just …”


“Um … you were right, what you said about me.”

“Right? What … what did I say about you?”

“After I made that crack about what you had on under your coat.”

She scanned her memory. What the hell did she say?

She looked at him, brow furrowed, and shook her head.

“You said I was a virgin.”.

“Oh … oh, yeah, I did. I see.”

“Well, everyone … I mean all my friends think I’m … not. I don’t know what gave them that idea; it isn’t like I go around making up stories. Of course, I don’t say anything to convince them otherwise either.”

She shrugged. “It’s no big deal, Mike. Although, I’m kinda surprised, but only because you hear every kid in America is having sex by the time they’re twelve … and you are a good-looking kid. You have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

He smiled. “Yeah, Jeannie. She wants us to … uh … you know … before we both go away.”

“Whoa, be careful, Mike.”


“Look, I’m sure Jeannie’s a sweetheart, but some girls, especially very young girls, get some silly ideas. If you two do decide to have sex, make sure you use protection.”

“Uh … sure. It’s just …”


“Well, I’m afraid I’m going to make a mess of it. Geeze, everyone talks like it’s the most natural thing in the world and you’ll know just what to do. I don’t want it to be a fiasco because I don’t have a clue.”

She laughed. “Aw, Mike, it’s always a fiasco the first time. Everyone’s first time is awkward. You get better with practice. A handsome kid like you … I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to …”

“But I want it to be special … not so much for me, but for the girl.”

She couldn’t respond for a moment. Was this kid for real? She recalled her first time, in someone’s bedroom during a party, the shoving, the pain, the sense that the boy screwing her was focused entirely on himself and his release, which came quickly. He didn’t even help her up afterward, or kiss her. It wasn’t until she was into her late twenties that she encountered men who took their time, and were considerate lovers. Her ex could blow either way, he could be selfish, or incredibly attentive and giving.

“Look, Mike. It’s just the way it is. All your life you take baby steps first before you can run.”

“But this is different, isn’t it? It’s supposed to be special; it’s supposed to be beautiful.”

“God, Mike, so young, so romantic. You’re going to make some girls incredibly happy … well, some of them anyway. Women can be selfish about sex too.”

He shrugged. “Wow, I could never talk to another woman like this, especially not my mom. I hope you don’t mind, Mrs. Vargo.”

“Not at all … I think it’s restored my faith in the male gender.”

“I guess I better get going. Thanks for the cocoa.”

“I wish I had something else to give you, Mike. I’m really cash-strapped for the time being.”

“That’s okay. I really liked talking to you. Sorry again, for what I said.”

She had to think for a moment about what he was talking about. “Oh, never mind. Heck, you’ll be charming ladies out of their clothes eventually.” She winked.

His cheeks reddened.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

He responded with a lopsided smile.

She showed him to the door.

“Mike, if you want to talk sometime … I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Vargo. I’d like that.”

After she closed the door she reached down to her crotch and felt the fabric that had dampened there.

“Jesus, Monica,” she whispered to herself. “He’s just a kid.”

* * * * *

It was an “amicable” split, no arguments over money or assets. It drove their lawyers crazy. Monica and Gabe even exchanged winks and grins while their hired mouthpieces argued, attempting to justify their per-hour fees. In the end it was a no-fault arrangement. He left Monica with the house, a car and enough money to last her until she sold the house.

The realty agent said she’d put up a for-sale sign as soon as the ground thawed. Monica waved to her from the front door. She didn’t mind. As far as she was concerned, the sign wouldn’t advertize the house so much as her failed marriage. She shook her head and thought of Gabe. Marriage wasn’t for them; they both knew it. They gave it a try, though.

Before she closed the door Monica scanned the lead-grey skies and sniffed the air.

“Smells like snow,” she whispered and shivered.

She closed the door and started toward the stairs. Lifting her fleece top over her head she tossed it carelessly over a chair. At the foot of the stairs she pushed her pants down over her hips and kicked them off. Naked she started up the stairs. She liked being naked in the house. Gabe liked her to walk around nude too, most of the time. Toward the end he would admonish her about being an exhibitionist.

“Are you hoping someone will peek in and see you?”

“What if they do?” she’d say, and shrug.

But she tallied the little criticisms that seemed to come out of nowhere, and decided he was trying to talk himself into leaving her. She made the decision for him when he suggested they “open” their marriage.

“Why stay married at all, then?”

She stood in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom and assessed her body. She kept herself trim, and her skin was as taut as any twenty-year-old … well … maybe twenty-eight year old. One would easily take her for being no more than thirty … maybe.

Her hair had gotten a bit darker, blonde with just a hint of red, about the shade of polished bronze. The curtains still matched the rug, she thought, and giggled.

“Not bad for an old broad,” she said to the image in the mirror. “The kid thought so, anyway.”

Did he? Was he for real? Was he really as disingenuous as he came across?

She felt the moisture rise at her pussy.

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

She headed for the shower.

* * * * *

The next morning a persistent crunching and scraping sound drew her out of her sleep. The sunlight was low, pinkish on the walls of her room. It had to be awfully early. Her eyes were too bleary to read the clock.

Shit, it must have snowed again. People are out shoveling.

As slumber fled she concentrated on the sound. It was close. It was coming from her driveway. She sat up and pulled on a quilted robe. She hurried down stairs, almost tripping, and went to the front window.

Mike was there, just finishing the driveway. He must have started before the sun came up.

She went to the door, opened it.

“Hey, what are you doing there?”

He stopped and looked back at his progress.

“Looks like I just shoveled you out.”


“Because it snowed,” he said and grinned.

“This time I don’t even have cocoa on.”

“I didn’t do it for cocoa; I did it because …”


“We’re … friends … right?”

He’d done it again, left her without words.

He said it under his breath as he turned, but she heard him anyway: “Cuz you’re beautiful.”

“Hey, c’mon in.”

“I gotta get ready for school …”

“C’mon … You’re old enough to drink coffee, aren’t you?”

He grinned and blushed. “I’d love a coffee.”

“Okay then, get your ass in here.”

He leaned his shovel against the house and stepped in.

Without thinking about it, she undid his coat and helped him shed it along with a scarf and knit hat.

“Gee, Mrs. Vargo, no one’s done that for me since my mom when I was a little kid.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, well … what am I thinking?”

“I dunno. I don’t mind.”

“Uh-huh. You know where the kitchen is.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She followed him and gestured to him to sit at the table. She prepared the coffee pot and placed it on the stove.

“What the heck is that?” he asked.

“Huh? You mean the coffee pot?”

“Yeah … you make coffee in a pot?”

“Yeah, it’s a percolator. I hope you like your coffee strong. Haven’t found a machine yet that makes it like I like it.”

“Wow, I think I remember people using pots like that in old westerns.”

She laughed. “My dad always had a percolator.”

“So how’s it work?”

“You’ll see.”

When the pot began to perc he couldn’t keep his eyes off it.

When he tasted it he clenched his eyes shut.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding.”

“Too strong?”

“No … just different. I like it.”

She sat and swirled a spoon in her cup.

“Mike, you don’t have to shovel out my driveway every time it snows.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, you said I could talk to you … about things.”

“Yeah, I know. But, I’ve been wondering if some topics might be inappropriate. Your parents might have a problem …”

“I can’t talk to them. My friends are all full of shit. And don’t even bring up my school counselors; they’re so stiff … you might as well talk to zombies. You know, everyone thinks kids know everything … That’s all I hear, ‘You kids are so lucky today … you got the Internet.’ Well, there’s a lot of information on the Net, but Jesus Christ, no one actually tells you how to … well, I guess you can watch porn, but I don’t know … just the basic stuff … nobody’s done a Sex for Dummies manual yet, have they?”

Monica laughed out loud. “Oh, Jeeze. Mike, you crack me up.”

He laughed too. “Yeah, funny. But … I’m serious.”

“Mike … sex is pretty mechanical actually. If you can figure out how a bicycle, or a car engine works, you can figure out how sex works.”

He nodded, looked thoughtful. “But … It’s not all about mechanics … is it?”

He lifted his eyes. They were so dark, liquid bright. Damn, she was getting moist again.

“No, Mike … the feelings that go along with it … They’re pretty powerful.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. The part that isn’t ‘just like riding a bicycle.'”

“Mike … You’re a special kid. You’ll find out what it’s like; it’ll be wonderful, I promise you.”

He nodded.

“Mrs. Vargo?”


“Please don’t get upset with me … I need to ask you something. I’ll leave right away, if … well … I just …”

Oh, God. What’s he going to say?

“Mrs. Vargo …” He took a deep breath, but looked right at her. “Would you teach me how to have sex?”

Then he gulped; it sounded like a duck strangling.

She was terrified. She squirmed in her seat, certain she heard her pussy squish.

“Look,” he said. “Forget what I said … I know, I just screwed up, if you don’t want to see me again it’s …”


Did she say that? Did she really say that?


This time she gulped loud enough for the whole world to hear.



“Um … this is pretty scary. No one can know.”

“I won’t tell anyone … you kidding me?”

“I … I don’t know if it’s wrong or not. I just … I don’t know what I’m thinking. I … I need to trust you. Please, be honest with me.”

“Well, sure. Mrs. Vargo …”

“I think we’ve crossed the line where you can call me Monica.”

“Monica.” He said it like a prayer.

She feigned a chuckle and shrugged. “It’s my name … Oh my God, what am I doing?”

“It’s okay if you change …”

“I won’t.” She nodded furiously, as if trying to convince herself.

“Okay.” He started to stand up. “Uh, Mrs. … um, Monica?”


“Um, when?”

“When do you get home from school?”

“Around three-thirty.”

“Okay. Just drop by then. Mike … no one, right?”

“No, nobody.”

“Okay … see you this afternoon.”

“Okay. Jeesh, my stomach’s doing flip-flops.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get sick at school.”

Nervous laughter erupted from both of them.

“Okay … later,” he said.

He got his coat and showed himself out.

Monica blew an errant fall of hair away from her forehead and sighed. “Holy shit.”

* * * * *

Throughout the day Monica couldn’t calm the squadrons of butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Sometimes she felt as though her head would lift off her shoulders and float away like a balloon.

Why had she told the kid she’d have sex with him? But it wasn’t about sex; it wasn’t even about sex with a boy young enough to be her own son, was it? There was something else going on here. A mercy fuck? Hardly, Mike was a strapping, lean, virile looking young man. Maybe he was being merciful to her. Was that this kid’s kink? Who had seduced whom?

Maybe he was a devious little shit; maybe he was at school right now bragging to his pals about the cougar he had tricked into fucking him.

No. Monica decided to trust her instincts. Mike was a good kid; he was sincere. But what about her? Had she seduced him? Led him on? Was she scratching an itch, filling a need she wasn’t even aware of until the kid appeared in her driveway?

Monica thought back to the week she and Gabe moved in. Mike’s mother had come by with brownies as a way of welcoming them to the neighborhood. She was full of questions, like did they have children, did they plan to. Monica remembered Mike as a ten-year-old playing in his backyard. She remembered him peeking through the fence as she lounged by the pool in her bikini, and once when she doffed her top and sunned her back. She’d never thought much about it. Kids were curious and Monica wasn’t offended easily. Then she recalled when his mom rather curtly ordered him into the house. Maybe he was twelve then.

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. She had to deal with the here and now. She glanced at the clock; it was two-thirty.

What should she wear? Something easily discarded, she decided. Or should she greet him naked? No, that would seem oddly inappropriate. She decided on a pair of cotton bikini panties and a simple cotton robe.

The hands on the clock took forever to make their circuit.

When the doorbell chimed her heart jumped into her throat. She stood from the couch, hands shaking, and stepped to the door.

She took a pair of deep breaths before she opened it.

Mike stood there shivering, from the cold or from anxiety she could not tell.


“Hi, come on in.”

He stood a moment as if waiting for her to remove his coat and hat again. When she didn’t he shed them himself.

“Toss them on the couch,” she said.

Then they looked at each other a moment.

Monica reached out her hand. “C’mon.”

He took her hand and let her lead him to the stairs. Upstairs she preceded him into the bedroom and turned.

“Well, I guess you better take your clothes off,” she said.

“Uh … yeah.”

His movements were jerky, awkward, hesitant.

“Mike, do you still want to do this?”

He nodded. “More than anything.”

“Okay, then. Let me see you naked.”

A quick nod, then he resumed his efforts to undress. He bared his chest in one motion, taking a sweater and t-shirt off at once. His skin was smooth, his abs defined, and so lean.

He kicked his boots off and reached down to grab each sock as he balanced on one foot and then the other. Finally, he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his legs. His thighs were more developed than the rest of him. It figured, he played hockey; he was a skater.

At last he stood before her in a pair of red boxers, tented by his cock. He slid his fingers beneath the waistband and tugged them down his hips and thighs.

Monica was not prepared for the amount of hair that grew below his waist. His pubic patch was more like a thick beard from which his cock sprung up in a subtle curve. A line of fur rose from there to his navel in a straight dark path.

His arms hung at his sides, all out of proportion, long, unfinished and lanky, and his hands huge, also unfinished, as if they hadn’t quite clicked into his wrists.

Monica’s breath became thready. Her heart beat wildly. She was afraid she would faint.

“What about you?” he said, as he draped his hands in front of his cock.

She steadied herself. “You get to undress me. Do it slowly … always, for the first time, do it slowly. C’mon.”

He nodded and stepped toward her until she felt his breath against her collarbone.

He tentatively tugged at the cotton belt that bound her robe until it fell away, then he reached inside and placed his hands on her hips. In that instant his breath hissed like a radiator expending steam.

Monica’s head felt like it was going to float away again. “You okay?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

“Yup. God, Monica. You’re so soft.”

“Take off my robe.”

“Yuh … okay.”

He spread it open and let it slide off her arms.

“My panties.” Her voice was barely a squeak.

He drew them down her thighs, knelt. “Can I kiss you?”

Before she could answer his lips pressed to her leg above her knee. Her hands rested on his head, fingers threading through his thick dark hair.

“Okay … um … c’mon, let’s get in bed.”


She drew away the bedclothes and slid under them. He followed.

“Now,” she said. “We have all the time in the world. Let’s take it slow, okay?”


She chuckled. “First, kissing, lots of kissing.”

“Oh, yes. I want to kiss you.”

Then his head disappeared under the covers, and she felt his lips caress her ankles, slowly working their way in an excruciatingly unhurried pace up the length of both her legs.

God, there’s nothing I can teach this kid.

Sensations raced along her legs and into her pussy, over her belly and teased her nipples into hard nubs. She knew she was soaking; her scent must be filling his nostrils. He hesitated when he reached her pussy.

He’s deciding whether to kiss me there. Not yet, not yet.

She reached down and lifted his head from under the covers, gently urging him to straddle her.

“Kiss me up here too.”

He kissed her belly, making it flutter, eliciting a feathery sigh. When he licked her belly button her hips came up off the bed. She pulled his head to her breasts.

“Keep kissing me, lick my nipples.”

He did, making slow circles around them.

“Yes, that’s it, that feels so nice.”

Her head was snuggled in a coddling blanket of tender sensations. Then she realized his rigid cock was rubbing against her thigh rhythmically. Whether Mike realized it or not, he was humping her leg.

She tried to adjust her position so his cock was at the gate of her pussy when he groaned.

“Oh, no … oh, shit, no.”

His warm fluids drizzled her thigh like melted frosting.

“I’m sorry. That’s so gross.”

“What? No it isn’t.”

“That’s what I was afraid I’d do.”

“No-no-no, Mike. It’s okay. It’s beautiful. It makes me feel beautiful.”


“That I made you do that. That you were so … enchanted by me. Don’t you think that makes me feel special … magical?”

“But I … I thought …”

“Don’t worry,” she said, and reached for his cock, that still retained some rigidity. She began to stroke him, his semen oozing between her fingers, lubricating him.

“Oh, God, Monica, I think I’m going to do it again.”

“No you’re not; not just yet. Just let yourself fall into the rhythm; submerge yourself in the sensations. Don’t worry about pleasing me or doing anything wrong. There is no wrong.”

Soon he was hard again, straining. She guided him to her pussy.

“Come inside me.”

He probed her entrance, but held back.

“Please, Michael … I want you so much.”

She felt his length then, a slow seemingly endless penetration until their pubic ridges nuzzled together and she felt his balls drape her ass. He swiveled his hips, driving himself into her depths.

“Yes, that’s it. Now, go ahead, fuck me … Michael, please.”

She met his thrusts adjusting the rhythm of their fuck, letting her hands course over his lean body, digging her nails into his ass.

“Angel … angel … angel.”

He kissed her neck as he drove himself into her, and her face, her shoulders. He held her arms above her head, swiveling his hips with a need for release.

“Oh, God, Michael,” she cried. “Angel … oh … make me …”

Her legs closed above his hips knocking her ankles together as she keened out the orgasm that pulsed from her pussy into her belly. As her tide began to subside she felt his release, another flood of semen, a series of pulses jetting inside her.

He shivered as he settled by her side, held her, kissed her.

“God … Mike … there isn’t anything I can teach you.”



“It was beautiful. It wouldn’t have been without you.”

“Shush,” she said, and held his head against her shoulder so he wouldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes.

* * * * *

All tension and thought left Monica; she had never felt as relaxed and at peace. She and Mike each nodded off into a dreamless embrace of languid euphoria.

Monica awoke to a gentle suckling at her breast. Mike, eyes closed, lasily licked and sucked her nipple.

“Hey,” she said.

Her nipple slipped from his lips but his eyes remained closed.

“You going to pretend you were sleep-suckling?”

His eyes opened, his gaze foggy, his features relaxed.

“No, I just wanted to. It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was nice. But it’s gotten dark out. You have to get home.”

“I wish I could stay right here.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

A tune began to play.

“What’s that?” Monica asked, lifting herself into a sit.

“It’s my cell phone.” Mike jumped up and rifled through his jeans. He extracted the phone and peered at the screen. “Oh, shit! It’s my mom.”


“Shhh, it’s okay.”

Mike thumbed a button. “Hi, Mom, what’s up?

“Geesh, that late? I guess I lost track of the … Huh?

“Um, no, I’m not over here … uh, there … Well of course not.

“Yeah, I dropped by Mrs. Vargo’s house because she asked me to … because she wanted to pay me for shoveling out her driveway this morning, but she didn’t have any cash until she got to the ATM, so she asked me to come back. Oh yeah, I left there hours ago.

“Where was I? Um, well, I was knocking around the mall with some of the guys … Jeannie? Oh, nuts, I forgot I was supposed to meet her at the library. I’ll call her.

“Where am I now? Uh, I’m on my way home. Yeah, should be there in about ten minutes … yeah, okay, see you soon.”

“Holy shit,” Monica said.

“It’s okay.”

“Yeah? How’d she know you were over here?”

“She saw me.”

“Oh great.”

“She doesn’t know anything.”

“Mothers? They don’t have to know anything … they size things up pretty quick.”

“Monica … can I come back?”

“Mike, maybe we should just … cool it for awhile.”

“Please. You still want to talk?”

“I … okay. But we have to be … um, more circumspect, I guess.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

He dressed quickly, then strode toward the bed, bent over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”

“Hey, my pleasure … really. Listen, go through the basement and out the side door so she won’t see.”

“Right. See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

* * * * *

Monica lay in bed naked for a long while after he left, trying to remember if she ever had a more satisfying fuck. She’d had plenty with Gabe, but this one with Mike was special somehow. She smiled as she recalled his embarrassment after coming on her thigh, and reached with her fingers to trace the tacky trails of semen there.

“What the hell have you done, Monica?” she admonished herself.

She got up and showered, then spent the rest of the night reviewing her interlude with Mike.

Two days past without seeing or hearing from him. She wondered if his mother had figured out what was going on and read him the riot act, together with a warning to stay away from the hussy next door. She hoped he wasn’t in trouble.

But was she? There was nothing illegal about their tryst. He was legally an adult, even if he was still in high school. Not old enough to drink, but old enough to fuck a woman out of her senses. Still, had she really violated some taboo? He was a teenager – teenagers could be volatile. Was it dangerous? But then she decided Mike was too sweet and sensitive.

“Go with your instincts,” she told herself.

The weather was glorious all week, springlike. She found herself wishing they’d be hit with a blizzard so Mike could shovel her out and then come inside to warm up.

Friday afternoon her doorbell rang.

Mike stood at the door.

“Hey, what if your mother sees?”

“She’s visiting with my aunt; my cousin Pam had a baby. She’ll be there until later this evening.”

“How about your dad?”

“Working. He’ll be home about the same time.”

“Well, okay, come in.”

He shook off his coat and let it fall over the arm of the couch.

“Jeannie and I broke up.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry, Mike.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad, really.”


“She kept pushing me to …”


“Have sex with her. But … it didn’t feel right.”


“She made it sound like … uh … what’s that word, you know, like when countries are about to go to war or else … damn, I know it.”


“Yeah, it’s like she was giving me an ultimatum.”

“Why, what she say?”

“Monica, it was like she was telling me we had to have sex. Then she started talking about me staying here and going to the state college. And when I said I wasn’t going to toss a hockey scholarship away she said she could find a way to go to Milwaukee with me. She started talking about what I should be doing years from now, like she was taking charge of planning out my future … my future. But anyway, she just kept at me about how we had to have sex, we just had to.”

“Uh-huh, and what did you say?”

He chuckled. “I said I wasn’t ready.”

Monica smiled. “How’d she take that?”

“You won’t believe what she called me,” he said and grinned.


“A pussy.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, she said I should wear panties since I don’t want to grow up.”

“How’d you feel about that, Mike?”

“You know, just a week or two ago, it would have really bothered me. But … funny … I just laughed. That made her really mad.”

“I can imagine.”

“Yeah, so she’s apparently put it around school that I’m a scaredy-ass virgin who’s afraid to have sex with a girl, and maybe even gay.”

“Jesus. What a little cunt.”

They both laughed out loud.

“Mike, anyone giving you, or going to give you trouble?”

“I heard a couple of guys snickering, but nobody’s said anything to my face. My regular buds just think she’s gone off her rocker. Anyway, school’s almost over for us seniors. Nobody wants to get into any shit now.”

“You know. I can’t say as I blame Jeannie, even though I abhor her methods.”


“She’s losing you, Mike. She sees you slipping away, and it’s breaking her heart. I’ve been there; I recognize the symptoms.”

“Really?” His brow furrowed and he gazed at his feet. “Maybe I should …”

“No, just let it go, Mike. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just the way life plays itself out. Jeannie will get over it.”

“Yeah, but now I feel bad.”

“That just means your heart is in the right place.”

She took his hand and kissed his cheek.

He smiled and squeezed her hand.

“Jesus, Monica … I’ve been thinking about us, that is, about our … um …”

“Fuck session?”

“Geeze, I wouldn’t have put it like that. It wasn’t just about having sex … was it?”

“Okay, then … fuck lesson, how’s that sound … better?”

“Yeah, I guess, but …”


“Nothing, never mind.”

“Okay. Can I get you something?”

“No, that’s okay. Can I ask you something, though?”

“Oh boy … okay.”

“Um … do you like to be licked … you know …” He made a faint gesture toward her crotch.


Mike began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, just something that happened.”

“Huh? What happened?”

“Just something I overheard my dad say once. See, my Mom is pretty straight-laced, I guess you’d say. So they had some friends over, and I was upstairs and I overheard the guy mention cunnilingus … I can’t remember how it came up in their conversation, but I knew my Mom’s nose must have gone right out of joint because she’s really … uh … well some things just aren’t allowed in casual conversation, you know?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“But no sooner had the guy said it, then my dad says …” He began to laugh.

“Yeah, said what?”

“He says, every time he hears that word he thinks of the Irish airline.”

Monica blurted out a laugh. “Oh, Jesus, I think I like your dad.”

“Yeah, well, Mom was on his case for a week after that. My dad’s always saying stuff like that and he’s always so surprised when he gets in trouble with Mom.”

“Cripes, that’s funny.”

“Yeah,” he said, wiping his eye. “So, anyway, do you?”

“What? Oh, well, yeah, if it’s done well.”

“Aren’t girls supposed to go crazy for it?”

“Hey, we aren’t all made with the same cookie-cutter. Sure, some women love it – I had a friend who couldn’t come any other way. But some women couldn’t care less, and there are even others who want nothing to do with it because they’re so sensitive there … they say it’s like being mercilessly tickled. So, girls are different.”

“Oh … okay. But you like it, right?”

“I got to like it. My hus …, I mean, my ex did it really well … when he was in the mood. The first couple of times a guy tried it on me weren’t so hot.”

“I see. Um … would you show me how?”

“Hmm.” Monica studied his face a moment. “Okay.”

He started to walk to the stairs.

“Nope, right here,” she said. She stepped out of her sweats and tugged off her top. Panties and bra joined them on the floor. She sat back in an upholstered chair and splayed her thighs.

“Okay,” she said. “Do I need to give you a female anatomy lesson?”

“Uh, no. I know where everything is. They showed us in our health and human sexuality class.”

“When was that?”

“This year.”

“Idiots … they should be telling about that stuff in middle school, and even earlier. Anyway, I better quiz you. What’s this?”

“Your clit … I mean, clitoris.”

“Clit’s fine. Just don’t call it a love button or lady cock or something else stupid.”

“Sure,” he said, and grinned.

“And this and this …”

“Your labia … lips, I guess. And altogether it’s your vulva.”

“Altogether it’s my pussy,” she said, and bit back a laugh.

“Uh …”

“It’s okay … pussy is fine with most women. Although some get uppity about cunt. I have no problem with that, either, but I prefer to think of the cunt as being inside, not on the outside.”

“Yeah, okay.”



“Get over here on your knees and see what you can do.”

“Okay.” He knelt between her legs. “Um, how would you like me to …?”



“You asked. I mean, it’s okay if you start with a little snaky lick, or even a kiss, but then ask what she likes and how she likes it.”

“Okay … so, what do you want me to do?”

“Lay your tongue flat first and lick up, then lick around my lips. If you nibble me, do it with your lips, okay? And it’s okay if your nose rubs against my clit, but softly, right?”


She felt his tongue lave slowly in a vertical path up her slit, the tip barely grazing her clit. Then a tender, slow rimming of her labia. A zing of electricity surged into her womb.

“Yes … yes … That’s nice. Do that for a while … oh!”

He nibbled her, and sucked her with gentle tugs. She thought she must be flowing.

“It’s okay if you want to poke around in the hole.”

He responded with flicks and probes until she gripped the fabric of the chair and tried to stifle a cry.”

He stopped. “Okay?”

“Ummm … yeah. Keep doing that.”

He resumed. He was experimenting now, trying patterns, as if he were writing in cursive with the tip of his tongue.

He stopped again. Mildly irritated at the interruption, she looked down at him.


“I could actually French kiss you there, couldn’t I?”


Then he did it, a combination of a sucking kiss and a probe with his tongue. Monica nearly came out of her seat.

“Okay, okay … you can start licking around my clit.”

“Okay … fast or slow?”

“Um … yeah … no more talk.”

He swirled his tongue around her clit; she could feel it swell, imagined it protruding from its sheath. His pace was languid, but began to accelerate infinitesimally.

He stopped again. “Is that okay?”

Whimpering, she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head back to her crotch. His tongue resumed its dance around her clit as she lifted her feet off the floor and rocked her knees.

Without warning he sucked her clit into his mouth, stroking it with the tip of his tongue.

Monica lifted herself out of her seat with her hands. Her knees came together, clamping his head between them in a vice.

She didn’t cry as much as howl. Yes, her eyes rolled back and her toes curled and she beat her fists into the arms of the chair.

Finally she relaxed, but fell into a laughing jag that she couldn’t shake for a minute.


She was gasping. “Oh Christ … Oh Christ!”

“You okay?”

“Jesus … am I fucking okay. Yeah … I am so fucking okay. Oh my god.”

She looked down at him, focused her eyes. He was grinning.

“Yeah … go ahead and laugh, you little shit. I probably gave you a concussion when I knocked my knees into your head.”

“So … you liked it.”

Monica hissed a long, slow exhale.

“Stand up,” she said.


“Do it.”

He stood. She came out of her chair and undid his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down to his knees. His cock sprung out from that thick dark forest. It was so smooth and pale, like marble come alive. She knelt, and held it, like steel wrapped in silk.

She slipped her lips over the swollen knob and listened to him groan. She took the length of him, her tongue snaking along its smooth contours, flicking and licking. She withdrew allowing her teeth to graze it from the base to the tip.

His knees shook. Both of his hands fell to her head as if to brace himself from swaying.

Her fingertips teased his balls as she took him deeper into her throat. God, this kid was delicious. Both hands now tugged at his balls, nails stroking delicately.

She let him slip from her mouth, grinning as he groaned for the loss.

“Beautiful cock,” she hissed and took him into her mouth again, making wet sounds.

Her tongue detected his tension build; her hands sensed his hips cock like a gun ready to go off. She held him in her throat and waited. The rush of ejaculate and its volume surprised her anyway. She coughed, spattering his thighs with droplets of goo. It ran over her chin and dribbled onto the rug.

“Monica,” he moaned, his voice hoarse, strained.

She stood and immediately kissed him open mouthed, smearing his face with his semen.

Then she broke the kiss and smiled. “There, now we’re even.”

He swayed on his feet, but said nothing.

“Better pull your pants up, kid.”

She stepped away to the kitchen and returned with a damp cloth. She wiped his face.

“When you go home, better not stand downwind from your mother until you take a shower.”


She mussed his hair. “You reek of sex.”

“Oh … yeah, okay.”

“Gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Um … you really liked it when I licked you, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I really … really liked it.”

“I liked it when …”

“I know.” She playfully slapped him upside his head. “Now, go home before your parents come back.”

He pulled on his coat, then she showed him to the door.

He turned to her a moment, kissed her and said, “I love you, Monica.”

As she closed the door after him, she whispered. “Oh, shit.”

* * * * *

Monica stayed away from home all the next day, shopping, having lunch by herself. A waiter in his twenties flirted with her. Was she giving off some kind of pheromones, or something?

She sipped from a glass of wine, her chin resting in her hand, wondering if somehow she had screwed up, or worse, screwed up Mike.

C’mon kid, you don’t love me … not love.

She put off going home as long as she could, and wondered if he had come by the house. It was evening when she pulled into her driveway. She slipped getting out of the car on a pile of slush from the melting snow.

She carelessly tossed her purchases onto the couch along with her coat, hitched up her woolen skirt and pondered pouring herself a drink.

The knock at the door startled her. “Jesus, kid, it’s late,” she whispered to herself as she unzipped her boots and kicked them off.

She walked to the door and opened it. She caught her breath when she found Mike’s mother standing there. She desperately tried to stifle her panic.

“Mrs. Tibbetts … hi, what can I do for you?”

“I know what’s going on with you and my son.”


“Please, don’t insult me by denying what has been happening. I wash his clothes.”

What was that supposed to mean? Some kind of mothers’ code

“Mrs. Tibbetts, really … I don’t …”

“What I don’t understand is how a woman your age … a woman our age, could corrupt a decent young boy like Michael. He’s always been a good boy; he was going with a nice young lady … now that’s ruined too. Poor thing. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

Anger briefly rose from Monica’s chest and into her throat. She wanted to tell the woman that the “nice young lady” had plans to trap Mike in a life he didn’t want or deserve.

Hey, lady, don’t you know the little minx was trying to get Mike to knock her up?

But Monica bit back her words before they could emerge.

She held the door open wider. “Do you want to come in?”

“Certainly not!”

“Corrupt, huh? Mrs. Tibbetts, you have no reason to worry about Mike. He is a decent young man, one of the most decent young men I’ve ever known. He’s sensitive, caring … he cares about other people’s feelings. And, he has such a sense of respect for women, it’s amazing to me. I can only believe that you and his father raised him that way. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any upset, but Mike is a good kid … young man, I mean. And he will be no matter what you believe about me.”

Monica could see the concern reflected in the woman’s eyes. She couldn’t blame her.

“I do not want Michael to have anything to do with you again. Please.”

“I understand,” Monica said, and nodded, her eyes cast down.

Mrs. Tibbetts turned and strode back down the driveway.

Monica closed the door. She really needed that drink now. She walked to the kitchen and took down a nearly empty bottle of bourbon and tried to pour it straight into a coffee mug. But her hands shook and she spilled some on the counter.

“Shit,” she spat.

She felt foul, dirty, like any creep who preyed on the young. Was that really what she had done? Why had she agreed to have sex with a kid anyway? Did she really believe she was doing it for him, or was it all for her? Was she afraid she’d never feel sex again as intently as she did with Mike?

She gulped down what was left of the bourbon and began to cry.

* * * * *

She didn’t go out the next day. She barely got out of bed. She didn’t shower or dress, other than slip on her simple cotton robe.

Daylight began to fade, but she would not put on a light. She sat in silence in the living room letting her thoughts roil. At twilight there came a knock at the door. She refused to answer. Then she heard Mike calling her name.

“Ah, shit,” she said. She stood up and walked to the door.

“Monica … I just heard about my mom, I’m so sorry, she had no right …”

“She’s your mother; she certainly does have the right.”

“What did she say to you? I swear I’ll …”

“What? You’re her son; she worries about you. You think because you’re all of eighteen and fucking a grown woman that she’s going to stop being a mother … your mother? No, that doesn’t stop, as long as she lives.”

“But … please, can I come in?”

“Mike, we have to stop this.”

“Please, I just want to talk.”

She held the door, wondering if his mom saw him come over.

“She can’t run my life anymore,” he said. “Monica … I told you yesterday … I love you, I know I’ll never feel about anyone like I do about you.”

“So what … am I supposed to pick out curtains with you?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“You know what I want?”


“A good fuck.”


“I want your cock … I want you to shoot so much cum into me it dribbles out of my ears.”


She stripped off her robe and sniffed her armpits. Good, I stink, my snatch must stink too. Wanna know what it’s like to fuck some filthy fuck-slut?”

“Monica, you shouldn’t …”

“Aw, shut the fuck up and let’s go.”

She strode naked toward the stairs, turned and challenged, “You coming, or what?”

He followed her up the stairs to the bedroom.

“Strip!” she ordered. “I want to see that hard cock. I want it shoved so far into me we won’t be able to come apart … like dogs.”

He hesitated. His eyes welled.

“What the fuck is the matter with you? You know what, maybe that little bitch girlfriend of yours was right after all. There’s my underwear drawer; why don’t you pick out a pair of my panties for yourself, then call one or all of your pals and tell them I need a fuck. Maybe they’ll be man enough.”

“That’s enough!” he said. “Okay.”

“Jesus, about time.” She climbed onto the bed on hands and knees and lifted her ass high.

“I want you to fuck me from behind, like a dog. You’ve seen dogs fuck, haven’t you?”

He walked up behind her. She turned to see him hold his rigid cock in his hand.

“Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Fuck me like a bitch. Fuck me hard.”

She lowered her forehead to the bed and waited. In a moment she felt his cock slide into her.

“I said hard! Fast and hard. Now … Jesus, you fucking bastard, fuck me now!”

He began to thrust, taking hold of her hips.

“Faster! Harder!”

He accelerated his pace.

“Yeah … fuck that cunt. Fuck me like a whore … I am a fucking whore … a fucking whore!”

His pubic bone pounded her as his balls slapped her thighs.

“Cunt-fucker! Yeah, harder … slap me!”


“Fucking pussy! Slap me; slap my ass, c’mon, dammit. I’ll fucking turn you out on the street in panties … c’mon!”

His hand tapped her asscheeks.

“Fuck that! Slap me!”

She thought she heard him sob, then his hand came down on her ass; its sting brought tears to her eyes.

“Jesus, that hurt! Do it again; slap me hard.”

He answered with another stinging assault.

“You’re liking it aren’t you? You like hitting girls. C’mon, fuck me, fuck me … I’m such a pig!”

She felt the rush of fluids inside her and heard his groan. It had happened all in an instant. He whimpered as his cock slipped out of her.

She lay with her head flat a moment, listening to his sniffles. She looked beneath her and watched two tendrils of semen extend from her pussy and pool on the bedclothes. Again the sheer amount of cum this kid produced in one shot awed her.

She raised her head and looked back at him.

She smiled. “Feeling kinda dirty?”

He shook his head as if to shake off a stupor. “Huh? What?”

“You really got into it, didn’t you?” She reached back to touch her burning asscheek. “Ouch. That one really stung.”

“Monica, I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” she said mildly.

“Of course I am.”

“Couldn’t tell by the way you came in me.”

“Monica … what … what the hell …?”

She turned around and sat up. “Your last lesson. The first couple of times, always slow, always gentle. But, after you know a girl for a while, and you really get to know her, you’re likely to find that she will want you to be a little rougher with her … even dirty and nasty.”

“But, I thought …”

“It’s even better when you make it seem … real.”

“I thought you were …”


“I don’t know. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I was in a mood. But you liked it, didn’t you?”

“No … uh, yes …but dammit that’s not the point.”

She chuckled at his discomfiture. She slid off the bed and stepped over to him.

He hesitated, then took her into his arms.

“I told you I loved you.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you … do you …?”

“Love you?”

“Do you?”

She laid her head against his moist chest. “Yes, I love you.”

“Well then, doesn’t that mean something?”

“Of course it does. But, despite all that fairytale shit they feed you your whole childhood …”


“Being in love doesn’t mean you should be together. Believe me, Mike, I speak from experience. Being in love … loving someone is magic, it’s wonderful. But it doesn’t guarantee happiness. There’s nothing absolute about love. It comforts; it hurts. It’s wonderful and scary. You have to keep your head as best you can.”

“I guess … we could never …”

“Be together? No … it could never happen.”

“Yeah, I guess I really knew that.”

“You’re a smart kid.”



“I’ll never forget you.”

“I know.”

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“What do you mean? You have your whole life ahead of you.”

She took his hand and they sat on the bed.

“You know,” she said. “I have a favorite old movie. I can’t watch it without going through a whole box of tissues. I never thought I’d live the script, though.”


“It’s about a young man like you, and an older woman like me. And there’s a line, when she says to him, ‘In the future, when you speak of this – and you will – be kind.’ Well, I know you’re kind, Mike. I’d just say instead, ‘be honest.’ But, I don’t think I have to sweat that with you either.”

She stood and took his hands. He stood before her.

She kissed him, a long lingering kiss.

“Time to go, Mike.”

“But … We’ll still see each other.”

“Not for much longer. Looks like someone really wants this house. I should be gone by April.”

She took his hand and led him downstairs without bothering to dress.

She helped him on with his coat and showed him to the door, touched his cheek and said good night.

Then she took herself upstairs and stepped into her shower where she remained under the hot spray until it began to cool.

* * * * *

She slipped into a pair of flannel pajamas and pondered whether she wanted to stay up any later that night.

Then she heard a faint knock at the door.

“Oh, nuts, what now?”

She skipped down stairs and strode to the door.

Somehow she wasn’t surprised to find Mike’s dad standing there.

“Hello, Mr. Tibbetts. Look, your wife was by earlier and …”

“I know, Mrs. Vargo. I just wanted to … well, apologize for Margaret.”


“You have to understand, Mike is our only child, Maggie kinda clings a bit too close. I mean, she’s his mother and …”

“You don’t have to explain for her, Mr. Tibbetts. She’s a mother, a good mother. Mike’s lucky to have her and you as parents.”

“It’s nice of you to say so, Mrs. Vargo. I regret that we never became better neighbors. I was sorry to hear about your troubles … that is, with your husband.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tibbetts. That’s nice of you to say.”

“Yes, well, Maggie told me what, uh … transpired between you and her. I’m glad you understand how it is with … well with mothers.”

“Please, think no more about it.”

“There’s one other thing I wanted to say to you, Mrs. Vargo.”


“I wish, when I was Mike’s age, that I’d had a friend like you.”

Monica pressed her fingers to her lips and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Tibbetts.”

“Good night, Mrs. Vargo.”

“Good night.”

* * * * *

March melted away with the remainder of February’s snow. An early April spring bloomed.

Mike had watched the trucks pull up in pairs in front of Monica’s house all the previous week. Most of them were from charities that accepted donations of furniture and appliances and clothing.

Then he saw her waiting in her driveway with a small suitcase. He ran over to greet her.

“Weren’t you going to say goodbye?” he asked.

“I thought we already had.”

He shrugged. “Traveling light, huh?”

“Nothing else left in the house … that includes me. You’ll have new neighbors by the end of the week.”

“Yeah. Well, where you going?”

“I’m taking a train east. I figure the trip will give me some more time to think about that. I was thinking of Vermont.”

“Oh, how come?”

“I dunno. Sounds like a nice place to start over, and I’ve never been there.”

“Okay. Well, I don’t suppose I’ll ever see you again.”

“Not likely. You out of school yet?”

“We seniors sign out today, then I guess we’re officially all grown up. I’m just waiting for some friends; we’re driving in to school for the last day then … I don’t know.”

“Well, be careful, but have a nice life.”

“Monica … thanks for everything.”

“Hey, here’s my cab.”

She clasped her hands to his cheeks and drew him to her, kissing him on his lips. She walked to the cab with her bag in tow.

As the cab pulled away Mike’s friends pulled up.

“Hey, Mike, Jesus, pal, were you just making out with that hot MILF? Shit, you’re the man, dude.”

“Aw, shut the fuck up. Let’s go. Then let’s party.”

© 2013 Robert Buckley. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

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