The Complicated Family

The Complicated Family

Erotica - Milf

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Chapter 1

Matt Williams was supposed to be paying careful attention to the basketball game taking place on the court in front of him. That was, after all, why he was there. He was the school photographer at Jamestown High School and he needed to take photos of the game for the yearbook.

But, instead of watching the game, he was watching Mary Forrester, his best friend's mother. Her son Ricky, the Jamestown High School hoop squad's top scorer, was so good he had several college basketball coaches offering him scholarships.

Matt, who wasn't in the least athletically inclined, watched the object of his attention jump up and down, cheering for her son, whose team was on its way to another easy victory as he stood near the end of the gym, his camera in hand. "She's so gorgeous!" he thought as he gazed at his friend's attractive mother.

Although Matt's athletic ability was minimal, he made up for that lack with remarkable proficiency as a photographer. He had taken all the pictures for the school yearbook ever since his freshman year and, in addition, he earned extra money by selling some of his pictures to the local newspaper.

His ultimate fantasy, one he was sure he'd never get to live out, was to do a nude study of Mrs. Forrester. She would be an excellent subject. She was tall and full-bodied, and had a wild mass of shoulder-length black hair. Although she was strikingly beautiful, she acted as if she were totally unaware of how really attractive she was. Her modesty made her that much more appealing to Matt.

Tonight she had on a loose white sweater and snug jeans, an outfit that accentuated her finely curved body. While she continued to jump up and down and cheer, the smitten young man continued to find it hard to concentrate on the game. It happened every time he shot basketball pictures. In fact, anyone scrutinizing his photos would have found that Mary Forrester appeared in quite a few of them.

The final buzzer sounded and the crowd's delirious roar signaled their approval of the victorious end of another game. People began flowing down from the bleachers and out the doors.

Matt moved out onto the court, taking pictures of the celebrating team and excited cheerleaders as he did. He also managed to get a few shots of Mary Forrester's lovely face, which was flushed with joy and excitement.

Mary hugged and kissed her son, then she started for the doors at the end of the gym. She saw Matt, smiled, and waved. The young man's breath caught in his throat. If only her smile meant more than acknowledgment of the fact that he was her son's best friend.

The gym was almost empty, so Matt began to move toward the exit. Just as he reached the door, Ricky came out of the locker room, still in his basketball uniform. "Hey, Den!" he yelled, and walked in Matt's direction. "You need a ride home? Mom's waiting out front. You can ride home with us if you want."

"Ah...yeah," Matt replied. "Thanks. Hey, Rick, you played a great game!"

Ricky flashed him a "number one" sign and disappeared back into the locker room.

Matt's heart pounded as he walked out the front door of the school and looked for Forrester's car. He saw it and moved toward it. Mrs. Forrester saw him coming and again smiled and waved. Matt opened the car door and leaned inside.

"Rick said I could ride home with you," he told the comely woman.

"Of course you can, Matt," Mrs. Forrester said, her voice low and silken.

Matt felt a surge in his groin and quickly slid into the car and closed the door. He didn't want Mrs. Forrester to see his growing hard-on. Soft classical music came from the car's stereo.

"That was quite a game, wasn't it?" Mary Forrester said.

"Yeah...it sure was," Matt replied. "Rick was incredible." He held up his camera. "I...I got some terrific shots of him scoring." His throat was tight and his voice sounded raspy to him.

"You'll have to let me see them when you get them developed," Mary said. "I keep a scrapbook of all of Ricky's games. I have ever since he started playing basketball."

"Ah..." Matt swallowed hard. "I...I'll bring them over sometime. You...you can pick the ones you want."

"Great!" Mrs. Forrester said. "Ricky tells me you take wonderful pictures."

"I guess so," Matt said. He felt his face getting hot. "I...I, you know, just point the camera and push the button."

"I have an idea there's more to good photography than that, Matt," Mary said. "You seem to have the same kind of talent with a camera that Ricky does with a basketball."

Matt knew he was blushing furiously, but was saved having to respond by Ricky's arrival. His friend opened the door and got into the car, sandwiching Matt between him and his mother on the front seat of the big station wagon.

Matt slid over to make room for Rick and, as he did, his thigh came in contact with Mrs. Forrester's leg and his arm rubbed against hers. An electric current raced into his body from the points of contact with her and he found it hard to breathe.

He turned to his friend. "Ah...really great game, Rick," he said. "How many points did you get?"

"Thirty-five," Rick replied. "Hey, did you see the way Dianna Hillman was all over me at the end of the game?"

Dianna, one of the cheerleaders, was a very pretty girl. She was tall and attractive, but because her height made her as tall as a lot of the boys her age, she wasn't all that popular. Matt thought she was nice and she'd always been very friendly to him but, because he was painfully shy, he'd never asked her out. Actually, he'd never managed to work up the nerve to ask any of the girls in school out.

"She sure does go for you jock types," he observed.

"Yeah, if I remember right, she was all over Bert Page during football season," Rick said. Bert was the star quarterback of the football team.

"Richard Ethan Forrester!" Mrs. Forrester scolded, her voice sterner than Matt had ever heard it. "You know I don't like it when you talk about girls like that!"

"Aw, Mom," Ricky protested, "Dianna's just one of those kinda girls."

"Richard, that is enough of that kind of talk!" Mary said firmly. She turned onto the street where Matt lived and braked to a stop in front of his house. Rick got out to let his friend out.

"Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Forrester," Matt told his friend's mother.

Mary smiled at him. "Don't forget to bring those pictures over for me to look at some time, Matt," she said.

"I...uh, I won't," he stammered. He turned and started for his house.

"See you in school tomorrow, Den," Rick yelled, then he got back in the car.

Matt stood on his front porch and watched until the Forrester car turned a corner and disappeared. He touched his left side - the one that had touched Mrs. Forrester - sighed, then he walked into the house. His parents were in the living room, watching TV.

"Hi, hon," his mother said. "How was the game?"

"Yeah," his father added, "our team win again?"

"No sweat," Matt said. "We creamed them by thirty points."

"Hey, babe," Matt's father told his mother, "looks like our alma mater's going to the state championships again this year. Maybe this time we'll win."

"Yeah, Dad, maybe we will," Matt said. The team was favored to win the championship the year before, but lost the final game by one point. Their opponents made a comeback after Ricky sprained his ankle and missed the last five minutes.

Matt went upstairs to his bedroom. The bedroom adjoining his room in their big old house had been converted into a darkroom and photo lab. Matt's father had been disappointed when it became clear that his only male child wasn't very athletic, but he quickly became proud of his son's photographic achievements and supported him in any way he could. Now a person meeting Matt's dad couldn't escape without hearing about how his son was going to be the next Ansel Adams. Matt found it all a bit embarrassing.

He went into the darkroom, locked the door, turned off the lights, then threaded two of the five thirty-six exposure rolls of 35mm film he'd shot at the game into developing cans. That done, he turned on the light again, filled the canisters with developer, and set the timer.

While the film was being processed, Matt unlocked a special cabinet that only he had a key to and got out some photo albums. He opened them and slowly, lovingly, turned the pages. Picture after picture of lovely Mrs. Forrester greeted his adoring eyes. As he looked at them, Matt felt congestion forming in his groin. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

********************

A knock on the door startled him. He jumped, realizing he'd dozed off. He set the albums down on the counter and stood up.

"Who is it?" he called.

"Matt, it's Mary Forrester," came the soft reply.

Matt's heart leapt. He walked, stiff-legged, to the door and opened it. There she was, the object of so many of his fantasies.

Mary smiled at him. "Your folks said you'd be up here, and that it would be all right for me to come up," she said. "I had some time, so I thought now was as good a time as any to see those pictures you were telling me about."

"Ah...they...they aren't developed...yet," Matt stammered. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure she must be able to hear it.

Mary, smelling wonderfully of very expensive perfume, moved past him into the room. She still had on the white sweater and jeans she'd worn to the game. Matt watched her, transfixed.

"What are these?" the stunning woman asked while she picked up Matt's secret albums.

He went cold with dread. What would she say when she realized they contained only pictures of her?

Mrs. Forrester examined the albums, then she looked at him and smiled. "Why Matt!" she said softly, "All the pictures in these albums are of me!"

"Uh-huh," Matt murmured. What would she do now?

Mrs. Forrester put the albums down and walked across the room to where Matt stood. The young man was too scared to face her. He heard a rustle as she moved, then her soft, warm hands cupped his chin and lifted it. He was looking at that incredible face, those magnificent gray eyes. She smiled at him, a soft, inviting smile.

"Do you think I'm pretty, Matt?" she asked.

"Oh, yes!" Matt replied avidly.

"I'm glad you feel that way," Mary said. "And I think the pictures in those albums are wonderful. You deserve a reward." She covered his lips with hers.

Matt couldn't believe this was happening! The kiss began softly, then became more urgent. A kaleidoscope of sensations swept through the stunned young man. He was sure he'd faint when Mrs. Forrester's lips parted and her tongue brushed his lips softly. He felt his legs getting weak.

"I think you're a really sweet boy," Mrs. Forrester said when the kiss finally ended. "Would you like to take more pictures of me? Would you like to have me pose for you?"

Matt couldn't speak. He nodded furiously. Actually, he'd have rather kissed her again, but if she was offering to pose for him, he was more than happy to oblige her.

Mary gave him a stunning smile. "You know, I've always wanted to pose nude," she said, her eyes bright, "would you like that?"

Matt still couldn't talk. He nodded and reached for his camera.

Mrs. Forrester took hold of the hem of her sweater and slowly started to raise it, exposing the smooth skin of her softly rounded belly. Matt watched, his eyes bugging out of his head, and...

********************

A buzzer went off, and he jumped. "Don't worry, it...it's only the timer..." Matt muttered. He blinked and looked around, puzzled. Disappointment swept over him when he realized he was sitting in his darkroom, alone, with his private albums on his lap. He must have dozed off. The visit from Mrs. Forrester was only a dream. Disheartened, he got up and finished processing his film.

Chapter 2

While Matt was sitting in his photo lab, enjoying his fantasies about her, Mary Forrester was in her bedroom, getting ready for bed. When they got home, Ricky gave her a "good night" kiss and went to his bedroom, exhausted from the game. Her husband, Tom, was away on another of the long sales trips he'd been taking more and more of during the last few years.

Mary pulled her sweater over her head and laid it on a chair, then she sat down and slipped her boots off. That done, she shrugged out of her snug jeans. She stood, wearing just a plain white bra and high-cut bikini panties, gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door.

"I guess I don't look too bad for an old married lady," she mused while she ran her hands lightly over her body which really was in good shape. She worked very hard to keep in good shape. She reached behind herself to unhook her bra. The movement raised her full breasts delightfully.

Mary took the bra off and examined the breasts she'd exposed. They were large and the tips were covered with large, dark circles, which surrounded equally large nipples. They sagged a bit, but not too much. She hefted one breast, then the other, noting with satisfaction.

"You can barely see the stretch marks on them," she told herself. She'd nursed her son and hadn't ever been sorry she'd done that. She felt that was one of the reasons she and Ricky had always been closer. Next she peeled off the bikinis and examined her belly critically. As on her breasts, there were a few visible stretch marks on her abdomen, but they were faint. Her pubic hair, black and tightly curled, formed a lush triangular cover for her groin.

She slapped one thigh, then the other, noting with satisfaction that the smacks produced little jiggle. Her legs were strong and well-shaped, the result of long walks she took almost daily.

"But..." she thought, "if I look as good as I think I do, why am I here, alone?"

She gave it more thought. Her husband had been taking more and more business trips for the past year and was now to the point where he was gone at least two weeks out of every month. When she commented on how much he was gone, he angrily protested that the trips were an absolutely necessary part of his job.

But even when Tom was home, their relationship was strained. Their love-making, which had once been passionate and frequent, had declined to the point that when they did occasionally have sex, it seemed as if Tom was performing perfunctory act with little passion. Sometimes it seemed to Mary that her husband only made love to her because he felt he had to do his duty, not because he wanted her. She couldn't remember the last time their love-making had been really satisfying.

Mary sighed and opened the bedroom closet. Hanging in it were several nightgowns, a few of them sheer, lacy expensive items she'd gotten when she was first married. The rest were sensible, flannel ones. Those were the ones she'd been wearing lately.

A few years back, she was excited when Tom suggested that they get a king-sized bed. She thought it would give them lots of room to play and make their love-life better. And it seemed to, at first.

But, that initial resurgence of their love-life passed all too quickly and lately the huge bed had turned into a vast, lonely area in which Tom could pull away and hide from her. Most nights, he was so far over on his side and she might as well be in bed alone.

Impulsively, Mary selected one of the sexy, silken negligees and slipped it on. She shuddered with delight as the sensuous material slid down over her body, caressing her, clinging to her ample curves. She touched herself through the silken material and felt tingles of delight spreading through her.

"Oh, God!" Mary thought as she hugged herself. "I need to be made love to. Really made love to! I...I wish Tom would make love to me like he used to."

She walked to the bed, turned back the covers, slid in, and pulled them up over her, then she turned out the light. Lying alone in the darkness, she was acutely aware of the need gnawing at her insides, smoldering deep down in her body like a banked fire.

Her mind drifted. She remembered Ricky's comments about the cheerleader - Dianna, or something, her name was. That could have been her in high school. She never believed she was pretty, and her parents didn't have a lot of money like families of kids who belonged to the "in" crowd did. Without meaning to, she fell victim to the only assets she felt she had, her body and face. In the long run, it did her no good. A lot of guys took her out, but none of them ever went steady with her. She sat home, alone, the night of the prom, crying.

She studied hard though, and, somehow, managed to get into the local branch of the state college system, and there she met Tom. With him, things seemed different. He courted her, pursued her, and when at last they made love, it was fantastic. No man she'd ever been with had been interested in her satisfaction, just their own.

Back then, Tom was different. When they first met, he was a masterful lover who spent hours caressing her and touching her, giving her experiences she never knew existed. When he'd taken her the first time, she exploded with more wonderful feelings than she believed were possible.

She and Tom married at the end of her freshman year and Ricky came along six months later. Tom's parents helped them at first, until Tom got a start in business. Their life together was good in those early years, with Tom becoming more and more successful and Mary reveling in being a mother to their son.

Her reveries about the love-making she and her husband once shared only fanned the embers of need glowing deep in Mary's body. Without realizing she was doing it, she began to stroke and caress her breasts, and her body responded. Soon she was writhing and twisting as her hands moved over her flesh.

"Ohh!" Mary thought, "Has it come to this? Is this what my life is going to be like from now on? Am I condemned to lie alone in my king-sized bed, pleasuring myself?"

She didn't stop. It felt far too good, and she needed release badly, even if she had to give it to herself. She worked the hem of her nightgown up and her hands stole to the lush black forest between her spectacular thighs.

Soft groans escaped from her lips as her fingers explored the dampening flesh of her vagina. She touched her clitoris and groaned out loud, her hips thrust upward, and her back arched. One hand rapidly stroked the erect bud of her clit, giving her the thrills she needed so badly, while the other went to her breasts, squeezing them, pulling on the huge, turgid nipples.

"Yes! Yes!" she groaned, her muscles tensing, back arched, and then it happened; sweet, wonderful release swept over her, filling her with joy.

At last, spent, she relaxed on the bed. She felt less tense, but as nice as pleasuring herself had been, it wasn't the same as having a man who wanted her make love to her. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. At last, she fell asleep.

"Matt! Matt! Time to get up!" his mother yelled.

Rubbing his eyes, Matt sat up and looked at the clock on his dresser. Good. He had time to check the prints he'd made before he went to bed - prints of Mrs. Forrester at last night's basketball game.

He'd dreamt about her, and it was a delightful dream. Once more, she offered to pose nude for him, but when she was just about to remove her clothes, his mother called and woke him up. He was left with a raging hard-on.

"I'm up, Mom!" he yelled, and smiled when he realized his comment had more than one meaning. "Be down in a minute."

He got out of bed, his young cock sticking painfully out in front of him, and walked into the darkroom. As he gazed at the pictures of his fantasy lover, his hand wrapped around his swollen, fleshy pole and began to stroke it. Soon he was near the bursting point. He reached for a towel, wrapped it around his sensitive rod and, his eyes closed, came; groaning out his dream lover's name as pleasure shook his young body and globs of his seed pumped into the soft cloth.

Afterward, he showered and dressed, then he went downstairs, where his mother had breakfast waiting for him.

His Mom frowned when he walked into the kitchen. "You better hurry," she said, "you don't want to miss the bus."

Matt ate his breakfast quickly, grabbed his books and jacket, then headed out the door and across the lawn, arriving at the bus stop just as the bus did. The doors opened and he climbed aboard, looking for a place to sit. His stop was the last the bus made before school and only one seat was left, next to Dianna Hillman.

Matt smiled at Dianna and sat down. "Hi," he said.

"Hi, Matt," Dianna replied. "Saw you at the game last night. Did you get some good pictures?"

"Ah...yeah, some," Matt replied. He looked at Dianna. She was quite attractive. She had short, light-brown hair and a very pretty face. Her shape was good, too, except for the fact that she was nearly flat-chested. She had on a pink sweater with a big cowl neck, and a loose, midi-length white skirt.

"Have any problems with that social studies assignment?" Matt asked.

Dianna frowned and nodded. "A little," she replied. "I hate social studies. I don't know why we have to study all that ancient stuff, anyhow."

Matt smiled and said, "My dad says it's because those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it, or something like that."

Dianna gave him a funny look and asked, "What does that mean?"

Matt shrugged. "I'm not sure, either. I think it's just another one of those excuses adults give us to make us believe we ought to do our social studies homework, I guess," he said. "You know how adults are, they always have something that doesn't make any sense to say."

"Oh," Dianna said. She looked out the window, a little confused.

"Ah...would you like to go to a movie tonight?" Matt asked. What possessed him to ask her that, he never knew. But, he'd done it. Too late to take it back.

Dianna turned suddenly and looked at him, interest in her eyes. "Gee, I'd love to," she said. "But I...I told Ricky Forrester I'd go out with him tonight."

"Oh," Matt said, dejected.

"Look, Ricky and I, we're not going steady or anything," Dianna added quickly. "And I'm not doing anything tomorrow night."

"Ah, OK," Matt said. He sat up, brightening. "Yeah, tomorrow night, then."

"Great," Dianna said and smiled at him.

The bus turned into the school driveway. Matt was elated. He had a date, a real date, with Dianna Hillman. He'd show Ricky.

Actually, though he didn't think so, Matt was a reasonably attractive boy. He might not be physically adept, and not good at sports, but he still had what women might consider a good body, and he was good-looking, too. He was stronger than he realized, and it always bugged Ricky when Matt beat him at some feat of strength in Phys. Ed. Whenever that happened, Matt believed Ricky let him out-do him out of friendship, but that wasn't true at all.

Matt and Dianna walked into the school building. She was tall, almost as tall as Matt's six feet. They didn't look bad together.

"See you in social studies," Dianna said. She turned and headed for her locker.

"You bet," Matt replied and started down the hall toward his locker.

"Hey, Den," Ricky said, walking up behind Matt and giving him a playful punch. "Saw you come in with Dianna. You tryin' to beat my time?"

"Ah...um...I, ah, I got a date with her tomorrow night," Matt said.

"No shit?" Ricky said. He smiled. "Hell, old buddy, I'll try not to spoil her for you tonight, then." He gave Matt another playful punch. "Gotta go. See you in English."

Matt wasn't sure why, but he was bugged by his friend's comments. He and Ricky had been best friends since kindergarten; nothing had ever come between them, not even pressure from the guys on the basketball team who constantly bugged Ricky to stop hanging around with "the camera nerd," as they called Matt behind his back.

Matt felt guilty about his anger, shook off the feeling, and headed for class. He wasn't sure why Rick's comment bugged him so much.

"Are you all right, Matt?" Miss Farwell, the English teacher, asked.

Matt looked up. She was standing next to his desk. She'd called on him twice and he hadn't heard her.

"I...I guess so, Miss Farwell," Matt replied, blushing. After that, he forced himself to pay closer attention.

Dianna wasn't on the bus after school. Matt figured she either had cheerleading practice or, maybe, Rick had driven her home. As he was thinking about it, Rick's beautifully restored '69 Dodge Charger roared by the bus. Matt saw Dianna in the passenger seat.

"I'll try not to ruin her for you." Matt remembered what Ricky had said.

"Damn him!" he thought.

Chapter 3

After Ricky left for school, Mary took a shower and got dressed. The print-decorated man-tailored blouse and gray slacks she chose looked terrific on her, but she wasn't aware of that. Then she straightened up the house. Tom was due home today, and Mary made a practice of having the house look extra-good when her husband got back from a trip. The phone rang. She walked over and picked it up.

"Mary," her husband's voice came through the receiver. "Honey, I hate to do this, but I have to extend my trip through the weekend."

"Oh, Tom," Mary said. She couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice. She planned to make an all-out effort to revive their relationship this weekend. "Do you really have to?"

"Afraid so," he replied.

In the background, Mary thought she heard something, like a feminine giggle. "Tom...where...where are you?" she asked.

"Ah, I'm in one of my client's offices," her husband said quickly. "It's, ah, one of the secretary's birthdays, and the other girls are, um, teasing her."

"I'll bet!" Mary thought. All of a sudden fears about what Tom might really be doing on those trips rushed from the far corner of her mind, where she had banished them because they were too painful to consider.

"Look, Mary," Tom said. "I have to get going. I'll see you next week."

"When will you get home?" Mary asked.

"Probably Tuesday," he said.

"Tom...I...I love you," Mary said softly.

"Yeah, me, too," her husband said. Then he was gone.

Mary felt tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't understand what was happening to them. Their marriage seemed to be coming apart at the seams. Tom was gone all the time, and when he was home he ignored her. The result was that she was lonely. Ricky's presence helped, but he'd be going away to school next fall. What would she do then?

One of Mary's unwritten rules was, "If you need a lift, get your hair done." Pixie McGill, the girl who did Mary's hair, was a divorcee and had a bit of a loose reputation, but Mary liked her. Pixie always seemed to be so up and happy.

Pixie had planned to take the afternoon off, but when she got the call from Mary - who she considered one of her favorite customers and who sounded upset - she told Mary to come by at one.

Hairdressers, like barbers and bartenders, often act as confessors for their clients. Pixie, because she was such a good listener and never passed on what she heard, was one of the best. "I wonder what's bugging Mary?" Pixie mused as she worked on her current customer, who was babbling about her Aunt Alice, or Agatha, or whatever.

Mary, meanwhile, went back to her housework with new vigor. The brief phone chat with Pixie had improved her mood, and knowing she'd get to spend more time talking with her friend later gave her something to look forward to.

At one, Mary drove her big station wagon into the parking lot in front of Pixie's salon. She was surprised no other cars were there.

"You weren't planning to take the afternoon off, were you?" Mary asked when she got inside.

"Don't worry about it," Pixie said. "I had a feeling you needed someone to talk to, so here you are."

"Look, I don't want to spoil your day off," Mary said. She turned and began to leave.

Pixie grabbed her arm. "Take off your coat and get in the chair. We ought to get started," the hairdresser said.

She led Mary to the special sink used for shampooing customers, sat her down in the chair, and put a protective cover over her.

"Talk to me, Mary," Pixie said. She had her customer lay back and began to wet down her hair.

Mary felt herself relaxing as Pixie worked shampoo into her hair, filling it with luxuriant white foam. Her scalp tingled delightfully.

"Well," Mary said, "Things aren't going too well at home..." She was surprised at how easily all of her troubles came out once she started talking.

Finally Pixie finished rinsing the lather out of Mary's hair, had her sit up, and wrapped a towel around her customer's head.

"You know, if I was in that situation..." Pixie commented as they walked to another chair, where Pixie would cut Mary's hair and style it, "...if it was me, I'd probably find someone who would give me what I needed."

"You...you mean you...you'd take a...a lover?" Mary was startled. "I...I could never...ever do that."

"I'm not telling you to do it, or not to do it," Pixie said. "I'm just saying what I would do. I'd go out and find me a nice, horny young guy who could screw me silly."

Mary felt her cheeks get hot and knew she was blushing. "I've never...done...that, had sex...with...with anyone but Tom since we got married," she stammered.

"From my point of view," Pixie said as she clipped a little off the back of Mary's hair, "monogamy is highly over-rated. But that's me. Like I said, I'm telling you what I'd do. You have to do what you think is best for you."

Despite her misgivings, Mary did find the idea of an affair exciting. Still, she couldn't picture herself going to bed with anyone but Tom. She'd come a long way from the way she'd been in high school. She had a good reputation now, a good life, and she didn't want to do anything that would cause her to lose it. "I just couldn't do it," she thought at last. "I just couldn't. I have too much to lose."

Pixie was blow-drying her hair. Mary closed her eyes and enjoyed the warm blast of hot air and the comb sliding through her tresses.

"Hey, you know, if you don't want to have an affair, there is another choice," Pixie said. "I'd almost forgot about it." She put the finishing touches on Mary's hair.

"What's that?" Mary asked as she examined her new coiffure in the mirror. She had no idea what her friend could be talking about.

"You stay here," Pixie said. "I'll be right back." She disappeared through the doorway that led from the salon into her living quarters. In a few minutes, she returned, carrying a pinkish tube of some kind in her hand.

"What's that?" Mary asked.

Pixie held the device up for Mary to see. When she realized what Pixie was holding, she was stunned. It was a large, life-like artificial penis!

Pixie smiled when she saw her friend blush. "This might not be as good as a real one," she said, "but it's a helluva lot better than going horny."

"I...Oh God!...I'd have no idea where to find something like that, even if I wanted to," Mary stammered. She felt her face growing hot, and was terribly embarrassed, but she couldn't take her eyes off the device Pixie held. It looked so real!

"I got mine in a store over in Westboro," Pixie said, grinning. "It's just across from that big mall." She had an idea she'd piqued Mary's interest. "I told them it was a gag gift for a friend's bridal shower when I went to buy it."

Mary drove away from Pixie's shop, her mind spinning. "I could never take a lover," she thought. Then her mind went to the dildo. She wondered what it would feel like to use one. "It would probably feel better than my fingers," she said out loud. Without realizing she was doing it, she turned onto the road to Westboro.

Ricky braked his brilliant red car to a stop in front of Dianna Hillman's house, which wasn't nearly as the house he lived in. He knew both of Dianna's parents worked; her father for the local highway department, her mother as a nurse's aide in the local hospital. They never came to any of the sporting events to see her cheer like his Mom did. Then his selfish side kicked in. "If her Mom and Dad aren't home?" he thought. "Maybe..."

Dianna, who was sitting next to him, turned and smiled at him. "Want to come in for a soda?" she asked.

"Won't your folks mind?" Ricky asked, acting as if he didn't know her folks weren't home.

"They're both working, they won't be home for hours," Dianna replied.

Ricky couldn't help but smile when he heard that. "OK," he said, with a gleam in his eye.

Dianna didn't see the gleam and didn't realize Ricky was reading much more into her invitation than she intended. He got out of the car, so did she, and they walked to her front door. Dianna opened it and they went inside. She put her books down on a table inside the door and turned to go into the kitchen.

Ricky grabbed her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. His tongue pressed between her closed lips and his hands clutched her bottom. Dianna was surprised by his sudden action and didn't react as quickly as she might have had she known what was coming. She started to open her mouth to protest, but that allowed Ricky's tongue entry to her mouth. What caused her problems was that she liked Ricky, and the kiss wasn't at all unpleasant. She'd been kissed before, many times, and as usual, she felt a kind of weakness coming over her as her body began to respond to Ricky's kiss.

His hands, cupping her trim bottom, pulled her against him and she felt the bulge in his pants through the thin material of her skirt as he rubbed his groin against hers. Her legs were starting to get a little rubbery, and she felt passion flooding through her. If, somehow, she didn't find the strength to stop Ricky soon, her body would take over, and she'd never be able to stop him.

"Ricky..." Dianna put her hands on his chest and pushed at him. "Please. Not here. Sometimes my dad stops in, if he's working in the area." Her father did do that, and would fly into a rage if he caught them doing anything. By just having Ricky in the house she was taking a chance.

Ricky kissed her again, a little less ardently, then he released her. "OK. I don't want to get you - or me - in trouble with your folks," he said. "Besides, we got the whole evening ahead of us, right?"

Dianna nodded, slipped out of his arms, and went into the kitchen. She got two cans of soda out of the fridge, opened them and handed one to Ricky. They went into the living room and drank their sodas, sitting in front of the TV, watching a re-run of "Gilligan's Island."

When he finished his soda, Ricky left. Dianna walked him to the door, and kissed him before he left. When they kissed, she again felt her body begin to respond once more.

"Why does it always have to be like that?" Dianna asked herself as she watched Ricky's car roar away. "Why do boys only want me for what they can get from me?"

She started making dinner. That was one of her chores. She was a good cook, too. "I know what will happen tonight," she thought as she got the food ready. "Ricky will be all over me, I'll give in, then I'll be lucky if he talks to me at school tomorrow." That was what happened when she dated Bert Page. Once she let him make love to her in the back seat of his car, he stopped calling. She didn't understand this "weakness" she seemed to have. All a boy had to do was touch her and her control over her body seemed to vanish. Once that happened, she would do anything they asked.

For some reason, she thought about Matt Williams. She had a date with him tomorrow. He seemed different from the other boys, quiet, shy, not brash and pushy. Most of the guys she knew thought Matt was a nerd, though, and he didn't play sports or anything, but he always treated her well.

"Actually," Dianna thought, "he's kind of cute. But he seems so serious most of the time." Maybe he wouldn't be like the others. Dianna found herself looking forward to her date with Matt; more, actually, than she did to the one with Ricky later that night. She finished setting the table and went into her room, trying to decide what to wear for her date.

Chapter 4

Mary drove away from the sex specialty shop in Westboro and headed toward her home. It was lying on the car seat next to her, in a plain paper bag. Her face was burning and she was filled with shame. She'd never been so embarrassed in her life. It took her an hour to work up the courage to go in the store in the first place, then when she did, things got worse.

The clerk, a pimply faced, smirking young man not much older than her son, sported a leering look on his face from the minute she walked in. "Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked when she entered the store.

"I...um...I...ah...one...um...of my, ah, friends, um, she's, you know, um, getting married," Mary stammered. "And, uh, we're...you know, giving her a, um, shower, with, um, gag, ah, gifts."

She looked down into the glass case in front of her and felt her face getting even hotter. On a shelf in the case lay at least a half-dozen realistic-looking fake penises, ranging from huge to gigantic. There were even black ones!

"What were you thinking of getting for your, ah, friend?" the young man asked smugly.

Mary was so embarrassed she almost turned and ran out of the store but, somehow, she managed to tough it out. She took a deep breath. "One of those...that one...there..." she stammered as she pointed into the case, at one of the dildos.

The clerk bent, brought out a long, slim box, and laid it on the counter. "Are you...excuse me...is your friend going to need batteries?" he asked.

Batteries! Pixie hadn't said anything about batteries. "Ah...I...I guess so," Mary stammered.

The clerk took a package of batteries off a shelf behind the counter and laid them next to the box. "These are the long-life kind," he leered. "Our customers say they're a lot more satisfying. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Mary, near the point of tears, shook her head.

The clerk moved to the cash register and rang up the sale. "That will be thirty-one ninety-five," he said.

Mary fumbled two twenty-dollar bills out of her purse and handed them to the leering clerk. Her hands were trembling.

The clerk took the money, rang up the sale on the cash register, then he gave her the change and a receipt.

"Would you like a bag?" he asked.

Mary gulped and nodded her head. "How can he make such a simple question sound so obscene?" she wondered as she watched the clerk to put her purchases in a paper bag. He handed it to her, she grabbed it and hurried out of the store, not looking back.

"I hope your friend enjoys her gift," the clerk said as she left. "You can tell her I'd be happy to drop in and give her some pointers on how to use it if she needs them."

Mary sat in her car for a few minutes after she left the store, shaking, the package on the seat beside her. Sobs and tears began. She couldn't remember when she'd felt more humiliated. People walking by looked at her but, thankfully, nobody stopped. At last she pulled herself together, started the car, and headed for home.

Her heart sank when she saw Ricky's car parked in the driveway. She looked at her watch and realized she was later than she thought. The trip to that horrid shop in Westboro had upset her so much she'd lost track of time.

Clutching her package, she went into the house, sure Ricky would know what was in the bag, and would be ashamed of her for having it.

"Hi, Mom," Ricky said when they met on the stairs.

"I...I'm sorry I'm late, honey," Mary said. "I'll put something in the microwave. You must be starved."

"No problem, I've got a date, remember?" her son said. "We'll grab a pizza before we go to the movies."

"Oh," Mary replied. She had forgotten Ricky's date with Dianna Hillman.

"Yeah, hey, wasn't Dad supposed to be home today?" her son asked. He went on downstairs and got a jacket out of the hall closet.

"Ah, he called, and said he had to stay a few days longer," Mary told her son. "He should be home Tuesday."

"Gee, we hardly ever see him any more." Ricky sounded disappointed. "I sure hope he'll be around for the playoffs."

"Now Ricky," Mary cautioned, "your father works very hard to support us. Don't be angry with him. I'm sure he'll be home for the playoffs."

As she defended her husband to their son, Mary remembered the feminine laughter she'd heard when Tom called. Had he really extended his trip for business reasons?

"Gotta go, Mom," Ricky ran up the stairs, kissed her lightly on the cheek, then galloped down the stairs and out the door.

Mary stood on the steps, alone. She looked down at the package in her hand as if she were seeing it for the first time, then she sighed and continued up the stairs to her bedroom.

She laid the package on the bed and locked the bedroom door. Then she walked to the bed and sat down. Her hands were trembling as she slipped the box out of the bag and sat there, holding it in her lap, looking at it. Finally, she managed to work up enough courage to open the box and take the fake penis out.

"It's cold to the touch," she thought, as she hefted the device. "But it sure does look real!" She giggled nervously. "It's been a long time since I've held a cock this hard," she said aloud. Her voice sounded strange in the empty room.

It took a little doing, but she figured out how to put the batteries in the device, then she turned it on using the little switch at the base. The dildo began to hum and vibrate.

"Actually, that might just feel nice," Mary thought. She shut it off and sat there, looking at it. "Now what?" she asked herself. Getting in the mood for self-love with her new sex-toy seemed to be a problem. Maybe if she got undressed. She got up, walked to the closet, stripped off her clothes, and stood fingering one of the silken negligees hanging in the closet. Then, naked, she turned and walked back to the bed, laid down, picked up the dildo, and again turned on the switch. Suddenly, she found herself growing excited. What would it feel like to have the fake penis sliding in and out of her? Would it be better than satisfying herself with her hands?

She began to rub the humming appliance over her body and made another delightful discovery. The dildo not only vibrated, it got warm! She tried moving it across one of her nipples and shivered as ripples of excitement went through her. She moved it to the other breast and got more fantastic sensations. Delighted by her discovery, she kept moving the whirring dildo from breast to breast and excitement grew and spread through her.

At last, tentatively, somewhat breathless from self-induced lust, she slid the buzzing, warm machine between her trembling thighs. Wave after wave of glorious sensations swept over her. Her hips rose off the bed, seeking closer contact with the marvelous invader.

Mary continued sliding the implement up and down over the sensitive flesh of her vagina and was surprised to feel herself growing wet. She tried rubbing it against her clit and her hips jolted. It felt wonderful!

Mary groaned and her hips began to rock as she continued arousing herself with the humming sex utensil, which continued to vibrate sweet sensations into her.

At last, she moved the dildo so the tip was positioned between the puffy lips of her vagina and, slowly, began advancing it into her needy body.

"Ah!" she groaned. It felt good! It felt unbelievably good! The hot, whirring wand filled her and made her insides quake with joy. Her hips continued to hunch upward as she slid the wonderful warm device in and out of her clasping hole. She felt her hunger growing and realized she was getting near to her peak.

"Yes! Oh, yes! Oh, God, yes!" she hissed. One hand continued thrusting the dildo into her body while the other move to her juice-soaked clit. She was going to come! She had to...

The phone rang.

Startled, Mary froze. She felt very embarrassed as she lay there, with the dildo protruding from her, listening to the insistent ringing of the phone. Reluctantly, she pulled the device out of her, rolled over, and reached for the phone.

Dianna, sitting in the movie theater next to Ricky, felt her date's hand slide down over her shoulder and knew it would soon come to rest on her breast. She did have breasts, in spite of what some of the crueler boys in school said, and although they were small, her breasts were incredibly sensitive.

She shivered with anticipation when Ricky's hand moved past her collar bone and down, onto one small, firm peak. Excitement rippled through her and she snuggled as close to Ricky as she could in the theater seats. If he kept this up, she would do anything he wanted her to, she wouldn't be able to help herself.

His hand continued to move over her soft jersey blouse and brushed one super-sensitive nipple which, along with it's mate, had begun to emerge when Ricky began touching her. The contact was electric, and caused Dianna's body to quake involuntarily.

Ricky felt Dianna shudder and repeated what he'd done to her small breast. She responded with another shudder, stronger this time. Delighted by his discovery, he continued to caress her gently.

By the end of the film, Dianna was breathless with excitement. Her nipples, swollen and proud, pressed out against the clinging fabric of her blouse. She'd long since lost the ability to focus on the picture and was barely able to walk when Ricky led her out of the theater to his car.

Before they got in the car, Ricky pulled Dianna into his arms and kissed her. Dianna returned the kiss avidly, her arms locking around him. The kiss ended, they got in the car, he started the engine, and they roared off; headed for an isolated spot outside town he'd used on many similar occasions.

One of the problems with the car Ricky had was that it had bucket seats and a console between them. He managed to convince his parents he needed to replace the original buckets with expensive new seats, seats he picked because they reclined.

Dianna, still foggy with lust, was barely aware where they were when Ricky pulled into a shadowy area and stopped. He leaned over and kissed her again. While she was kissing him, she heard a click, then she felt the seat going backward. Deep in her passion-clouded mind, she knew she should at least make an attempt to resist, but she couldn't.

Ricky's hand slid under the soft blouse and he discovered to his delight that Dianna was braless.

Dianna moaned softly while Ricky gently caressed her petite, proud cones of flesh, thrilling her. He was different from any of the other boys she'd gone parking with before. Most of them copped a quick feel, pulled down her pants, and jumped on. Ricky was far more considerate and, as a result, he had her turned on like she'd never been turned on before.

Early in his sexual career, Ricky learned that foreplay made the sexual act more enjoyable. He discovered that if he was considerate of his partner's needs, they were more willing to do what he wanted. It was a lesson he was glad he'd learned, because it made sex a lot more satisfying, and available.

While Ricky's lips and tongue working on her breasts drove Dianna wild, his hands moved to her waist. Before she realized what was happening, her slacks were sliding down her slim, well-formed legs. He rolled atop her and she felt his erection, trapped between them, pressing against her bare belly.

His own passion now raging out of control, Ricky grasped his erect penis and, with a downward thrust of his hips, slid it into Dianna's super-headed, pulsing cavern of love.

"Ah!" Dianna groaned when she felt Ricky's erection sliding into her. Her legs came up and her heels locked behind her partner's thighs.

Ricky was surprised. Dianna was tighter than he'd expected, given her reputation. He thrust into her, feeling the clutching walls of her love tunnel rippling, milking his swollen shaft, drawing him inexorably toward release.

Ricky had done his preliminary work well. By the time he stabbed his erection into Dianna's willing body she was very near to orgasm, in truth the first one she'd ever experienced while making love with a boy. She was overwhelmed by the powerful sensations Ricky's thrusting pole caused. She'd heard sex was supposed to be wonderful but, until now, it had never been more than a mildly pleasant experience. This time, it was fantastic! "Oh, God!" she screamed while sensations more fabulous than anything she'd ever experienced before wracked her body. "Oh! Oh! Ricky! Oh, God, Ricky!" Deep inside her explosions of joy detonated and feelings of pure bliss washed over her.

"Yeah!" Ricky groaned when he experienced the wondrous spasms of his own coming. His loins bucked harder and he felt his fluids blasting into Dianna's thrashing, clutching body.

Ricky collapsed atop Dianna, spent, and felt her clutching him, kissing him, and babbling to him. He didn't see the tears of joy running down her cheeks.

Dianna wasn't sure why making love with Ricky had been so different, so much more wonderful than anything she'd ever experienced before. She'd heard that sex with someone you loved was better. Was that why it had been so good with Ricky? Was she in love with him? She hadn't thought so, but...how else could she explain how wonderful he'd made her feel?

If she'd asked Ricky, he could have told her the satisfaction she felt came from other things, but that question wasn't asked so it went unanswered.

Chapter 5

"Hel...hello," Mary stammered into the phone. She felt herself trembling with unsated need. All she wanted was to get the call over with and get back to satisfying herself. "I should have left the damn phone ring," she thought.

"Mrs. Forrester," Matt Williams' voice said, "did I wake you up?"

"Ah...no, Matt, I...you didn't," Mary replied. "He'd sure be surprised if he knew what he interrupted," she found herself thinking. "I, ah, I was working on something." Was she ever!

"Oh," the young man said softly. "I, ah, I finished those pictures you asked about. I thought if you weren't busy, ah, maybe I could bring them over and you could see if you want any of them."

"Tell him you're busy!" a voice inside Mary screamed. She didn't listen. "That, ah, that would be fine, Matt," she told the young man, "bring them over."

"Be there in ten minutes," Matt said, and hung up.

Mary rolled over and dropped the phone back in the cradle. She looked down at the pink sex toy laying on the bed next to her, still humming. "I guess I still have time," she thought. Then, "No, I better get dressed."

She got out of bed and slipped on her blouse and slacks. She decided not to bother with undergarments because she'd just have to take them off again when Matt left. She slipped into a pair of bedroom slippers and started to leave her bedroom. She had forgotten she'd locked the door and was confused when it wouldn't open. Finally, she got the door open and went on downstairs, after giving the fake penis waiting on her bed a last longing look. "After all I went through to get that thing," she thought. "Maybe I'm being punished."

Downstairs, she turned on the lights in the living room, then she went to the kitchen and put some water on the stove to heat. A cup of hot chocolate would be nice. Even if Matt didn't want one, she sure did. Actually, she could use a drink. A strong one.

The doorbell rang. Mary opened it and Matt came in, carrying a big envelope.

"I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?" he asked, looking around.

"No," Mary lied. "I was just sitting here, reading. Ricky's father is on one of his business trips and Ricky's out on a date."

"Oh," Matt said. He felt his face grow hot. "Hey, you're alone with her. If you were cool, you could probably put some moves on her," a voice inside him said. He knew better. He wasn't cool. Not even a little bit.

"Are those the pictures, Matt?" Mary asked.

"Ah...yeah, here in the folder," the young man replied, and handed it to her.

Mary took the folder and sat down on the sofa, then she looked up at her son's friend, who was still standing, looking uncomfortable.

"Would you like some hot chocolate, Matt?" Mary asked. She felt tense. Why? This was her son's best friend, a boy she'd known since he was a baby. Of course, Matt wasn't a baby any more, she realized. He'd grown into a rather good-looking young man. "I wonder if he's a virgin?" the voice inside her asked. Mary shook her head. "What's the matter with me?" she thought as she stood up to go for the hot chocolate. "He's just a boy, the same age as my son!" She started for the kitchen.

Matt watched her go, then took off his jacket and sat down in one of the easy chairs. He noticed the way certain parts of Mrs. Forrester's body moved when she walked. "She isn't wearing a bra!" he realized, and felt his penis jump in his pants.

Mary returned carrying two cups of hot chocolate, handed Matt one, and set the other on the coffee table in front of where she had been sitting. Then she sat down and began to look over the pictures.

Once more, as Mrs. Forrester moved, Matt was captivated by the movement of her unfettered breasts beneath her blouse. He shifted in his seat to alleviate the pressure caused by his growing erection.

Mary felt the strain between them, but didn't know it was sexual tension. She spread the pictures out on the sofa next to her and looked over them.

Matt continued to stare at her while pictures of her bare breasts flashed through his heated mind.

Finally Mary looked at the young man and smiled. "These are very good, Matt," she said.

"Ah, thank you," Matt said. "You can have any of them you want. Or all of them." How was he going to get out of here without her seeing his hard-on?

Mary selected the pictures she wanted and set them aside, then she put the rest back in the folder. "I'll take these," she said, and pointed to the ones she'd selected. "How much do I owe you, Matt?"

"Ah...nothing," Matt replied. He wondered if his voice sounded as funny to her as it did to him.

"Are you sure?" Mary asked. "It must cost you something to make them. I mean, you have to buy film and all. And I imagine doing all this takes time."

"Ah...I always make extra copies, anyhow," Matt stammered. "And, uh, the school pays for my supplies, and all." He took a sip of his hot chocolate. His hands were trembling. Why?

"I'd have thought you'd be out on a date tonight," Mary said. Part of her wanted him to leave, so she could get back to pleasuring herself, and part of her kept remembering what Pixie had said. "I'd take a lover, a young one." She tried to force the unwelcome thoughts from her mind, but they kept coming back. "I wonder what kind of a lover Matt would be?" she mused. "If he's a virgin, think of how much fun I could have, teaching him..." She shook her head, trying to clear it.

"...I...I don't date much," Matt was saying. "The girls like jocks. Guys like me, well, you know."

"You don't have a girlfriend?" Mary asked. She couldn't understand why she felt a sudden burst of elation.

Matt shook his head. "No," he said. He drank more of his hot chocolate, clutching the cup with both hands so his trembling hands wouldn't spill it.

"I bet there are lots of girls who'd like to go out with you," Mary speculated. "I sure wouldn't mind going to bed with you. I'd give you a thrill you'd never forget." The sudden thought almost made her choke on her hot chocolate. What was wrong with her tonight?

"I dunno," Matt said, staring into the nearly empty cup in his hands. Thoughts flooded his mind, things he could have said, but didn't, couldn't. Holding his coat in front of him, he stood up. "I...uh...I guess I better get going," he said. He reached for the folder of pictures, turned, and started for the door. "Thanks for the hot chocolate, Mrs. Forrester."

"Thank you for bringing the pictures over," Mary said. She got up and followed him to the door. She watched him walk to his truck, noting that he didn't put his jacket on until he was outside. It was cold and she didn't understand why he didn't put his coat on.

"He's got the hots for you," the voice inside her said. "He probably got a hard-on from seeing you without a bra." "Virginia Forrester!" she scolded herself out loud, "What in Heaven's name is wrong with you? He's young enough to be your son!"

Still filled with yearning and disturbed by the fact she was having lewd thoughts about the young man who'd just visited, Mary picked up the cups, took them to the kitchen, then she went back upstairs to her bedroom. Once more she stripped off her clothes and laid down on the bed. She picked up the electric sex toy and soon was experiencing the bliss it could give her. As she worked the magical device in and out of her vagina, Matt' face kept flashing into her mind.

"No!" she moaned as her hands thrust the humming wand into her juice-slick opening with increasing fervor. Then, "Yes! Yes! Oh, yes!" Her body convulsed with joy.

"Matt! Matt! Take me! Take me, Matt!" she cried as she came.

Later, her need appeased, Mary turned out the lights and slept. And dreamed of making love with her son's best friend.

When he got home, Matt parked the pickup in the garage and went into the house. His parents were sitting in the living room, watching a videotaped movie. He stuck his head into the living room and said, "I'm back." He kept his body hidden so his parents couldn't see that he was still sporting a raging hard-on. His mother and father, engrossed in the movie they were watching, nodded acknowledgment of their son's greeting without turning around and he continued on up to his room.

Matt stripped off his clothes and slid into bed, his body raging with passions awakened during his visit with Mrs. Forrester. God, she was beautiful! He couldn't stop remembering the way her body moved under her robe, especially her breasts. He laid in his bed, trying to imagine what she looked like nude, and his already-stiff rod swelled even more. He gripped it in his hand and began stroking it.

Images of Mary Forrester's face and body flashed through the young man's mind as he lay in his bed, hand moving up and down his engorged shaft. For some reason, an image of Dianna Hillman flashed in his mind, too. Back and forth the images flickered, he visualized first one lovely female, then the other. The horny young man found what his mind was doing confusing, yet incredibly arousing.

Did he want to make love with Dianna, too? Matt didn't know. Actually, all he wanted was to make love with a woman, any woman who would have him, it didn't matter what woman, just so she was willing.

Familiar sensations began to boil in his loins and Matt knew release was near. Then it happened. Powerful spasms shook him and spurt after spurt of sticky white cream pumped from him. "Mrs. Forrester! Mary!" he groaned softly. "Oh, God, Mary! Oh, God!"

Once his ejaculation was finished, Matt cleaned himself off, got back in bed, and fell asleep.

Dianna, meanwhile, was sitting in Ricky's car as he drove her home. Still tingling from his wonderful love-making, she'd half-convinced herself she was in love with him. It had to be. Why else would their love-making have been so wonderful?

Ricky looked at the girl in the seat next to him, saw the dreamy look on her face, and smiled. Making love with Dianna had been great, she was passionate as hell! Usually, he didn't take a girl out two times in a row. Once he'd been out with a girl, he would take someone else out, then come back to the earlier conquest at a later date. He figured doing things that way would keep the girls he dated from becoming possessive. He didn't want to get tied down to one girl and assumed the girls he went out with knew that. After all, he had college and possibly a pro basketball career, ahead of him. A college sports hero, which Ricky planned to be, would have plenty of opportunity to sample all the feminine charms college had to offer.

If he turned pro...the notion of what life would be like if he became a highly paid pro basketball player almost overwhelmed Ricky. He read magazines about sports and watched all the sports shows on TV and knew what kind of lifestyles professional basketball players had. There was no way he was going to risk a future as bright as his could be on a long-term relationship. Not when there was a whole world of willing girls out there he hadn't met yet.

He pulled up in front of Dianna's house, turned to her and looked at her still-dreamy face. "Have a good time?" he asked.

"The best," she replied. "Thank you."

Ricky leaned over and kissed her. The kiss was more friendly than passionate, but Dianna didn't notice. When it ended, she gave Ricky an adoring look that made him uncomfortable. Finally, she slipped out of the car and started up the sidewalk to her house. As she did, she heard Ricky's car start up and move off down the street.

"My God!" she thought, "I have a date with Matt tomorrow night!" What she felt, or thought she felt, about Ricky, made her wonder if going out with Matt was such a good idea. But Matt was a really nice kid, and he'd probably be hurt if she broke the date. A little later, lying in bed, she continued to puzzle over what to do. At last, she fell asleep.

After he dropped Dianna off, he Ricky went home and went to bed. He was seriously considering taking Dianna out again and didn't understand why. Then he remembered that the player he faced in the next game was a particularly tough one. Thinking of ways to deal with his opponent, he fell asleep.

Chapter 6

Mary awoke the next morning even more confused than she'd been when she went to bed. Matt Williams was still on her mind and that bothered her. She vaguely remembered having some kind of dream about him and, try as she would, she didn't seem to be able to dislodge thoughts of him from her consciousness.

But, on the brighter side, having experienced an orgasm, even if it was self-induced, she was a little less tense than she had been. She stretched and her leg bumped something hard. She reached under the covers and found the dildo. "Best purchase I ever made," she thought. For a second, she had an urge to use it again, but fought it off, got out of bed and put the dildo in a safe place in her lingerie drawer.

A half-hour later, showered and dressed, she walked downstairs. Ricky was already up, lying on the sofa watching Saturday morning cartoons.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he said.

"Morning, Ricky," Mary said. "Want breakfast?"

"Silly question," Ricky replied. He didn't take his eyes from the TV.

"I'll yell when I have it ready," Mary said as she walked into the kitchen. She leaned down to get a frying pan out of the cabinet, and felt her breasts swing free under the sweatshirt she wore. She had decided not to wear a bra and felt a bit naughty about her decision.

Matt got up about the same time Mary did, took a shower, dressed, and went downstairs to find his parents sitting at the breakfast table.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, Matt," they replied. His mother got up and poured him a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

"Uncle Ezra called early this morning," his father said. "Your grandmother is worse. It looks as if she might not live. Your mother and I have to fly to Seattle today."

"You want me to come along?" Matt asked. His grandmother, who had cancer, had been ill for a long time, but recently, things had been getting worse. He knew it wouldn't be long before she died.

His mother shook her head. "Until we know for sure how bad it is," she said, "it's probably better you don't go. If it turns out this is something serious and we have to stay a while, you could miss a lot of school."

"Yeah, and with the basketball playoffs coming up, the school will need their ace photog to record that for posterity," his father added.

"You sure?" Matt asked as he poured some cereal into a bowl and put milk and sugar on it.

"If Grandma gets worse, we'll arrange for you to fly out later," his mother said. "There's nothing you could do out there, anyhow."

"When are you leaving?" Matt asked.

"Our flight leaves at one," his father replied.

"You want me to drive you to the airport?" Matt asked.

"We'll take the Mercedes and leave it in the long-term lot," his dad said. "That way, you won't have to worry about meeting us at the airport when we get back."

"OK," Matt said.

After breakfast, Matt helped his mother with the dishes, then went up to his darkroom and spent the rest of the morning working on a photo series on the athletic and cheerleading squads. He began a collection of pictures of Dianna Hillman similar to the one he had of Mary Forrester.

Matt suddenly realized what he was doing. "This is silly," he thought. "She doesn't give a darn about me. She's interested in Ricky."

About eleven, his mother knocked on the darkroom door and told him they were packed and ready to go. "Don't forget to eat," she told him. "There's plenty of food in the freezer and you know how to cook."

"Yes, ma'am," Matt replied. "Don't mothers ever realize their offspring can take care of themselves?" he wondered.

"And make sure you're careful with the truck," his father added.

"And don't stay up all night working in your lab, either," his mother said. "You have homework and you need your sleep."

He got a kiss and hug from his mother, and a hug from his father, who slipped some money in Matt'ss hand as he was going out the door. "Just in case you need a little extra," his father said.

Matt didn't need the money. He did quite well selling photos and had a nice-sized nest egg in the bank. He could live on his savings for several months.

After his parents left, Matt went back to his darkroom and worked on the photo series a little longer. Then, screwing up his courage, he walked to the phone in his bedroom.

"I ought to call Dianna," he thought. "I really should call her. I mean, I wouldn't want her to think I forgot our date."

He took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed Dianna's number.

"Hello?" Dianna said. Her voice sounded nice.

"Hi, ah, this is Matt," he said. Why was his voice cracking?

"Hi," Dianna replied.

"What do you want to do tonight?" he asked.

"I dunno, what were you thinking about?" she asked.

"Maybe we could get some pizza, then see a movie?" Matt suggested.

"OK," Dianna said.

"What are you doing now?" Matt asked.

"Ah, nothing, really," she said.

"Want to come over here?" Matt suggested hopefully.

"Now?" Dianna asked.

"Sure," Matt said. He couldn't believe he'd been bold enough to invite Dianna to his house when his parents weren't home.

A long silence followed his invitation, and Matt got scared. What if she decided not to come? What if she cancelled their date?

"Sure, I guess so," Dianna said.

"Great!" Matt said. He realized his heart was pounding. "I'll come over and pick you up."

Matt put the phone down and stood there, staring at it. He couldn't believe he really had a date. Not only that, Dianna had agreed to come over to his house. And he was home alone. Maybe he should have told her that.

He went downstairs, got his jacket, and went out to his pickup truck in the garage. He'd talked his father into buying the truck, a brand new Dodge 4 by 4, with big off-road tires mounted on white spoker wheels. It looked big and rugged, and was, but it also had the full luxury treatment inside, including automatic transmission, stereo and tape deck; even air-conditioning.

Matt climbed up into the cab of the truck, pressed the button to open the garage door, and turned the ignition key. The starter whined, the big V-8 roared to life and settled into a rumbling idle. He slid the shift lever into "reverse" and backed out of the garage.

Dianna put on a loose pullover top and pair of snug-fitting stirrup pants. She wasn't sure about her decision to go to Matt's house. After the previous night, she'd been thinking of herself as Ricky's girl. Still, she told herself, Matt was a nice boy, even if most of the kids in school thought he was a little nerdy, and talked about him behind his back.

The doorbell rang. Dianna's mother yelled there was a young man there to see her. Dianna grabbed her coat and headed down the hallway from her bedroom to the living room. Matt and her mother were talking.

"So you're the boy who takes all those wonderful pictures of school activities?" her mother was saying. Blushing, Matt nodded.

"You're a really good photographer," her mother went on. "I like takin' pictures, but mine never come out the way yours do."

"Taking the pictures isn't the hard part," Matt said. "People make a big fuss when you take a picture they like. Mostly, it's luck."

"Hi, Matt," Dianna said. She knew that Matt, like Ricky, came from a family with a lot more money than hers, and was ashamed of her parents and their low income status. Matt's parents were both college graduates and important people in town. She was glad her father wasn't home. He was down at the bar, drinking with his friends, and would be miserable when he got home.

"Hi, Dianna," Matt replied. "Ready to go?"

Dianna nodded.

"Nice meeting you, Mrs. Hillman," Matt said, then walked with Dianna to the front door and held it for her as she went out. Dianna found the chivalrous gesture endearing.

"Wow, is this your truck?" she asked. She looked at the shiny red vehicle sitting at the curb in front of her house.

"Actually, it belongs to my folks," he explained, "but they got it the way I wanted it. They don't let me use it to go to school, yet, though. My dad thinks it's better for me to ride the bus."

"It's awesome," Dianna said. Matt opened the door for her and she climbed up into the high cab.

"Ricky didn't come into the house last night when he picked me up," Dianna mused as Matt walked around to the driver's side of the truck and climbed in. "And he didn't hold doors for me, either." She felt a twinge of guilt about comparing the two boys.

"Your mom's nice," Matt commented as he started the truck and pulled away from the curb. "Is your father working?"

"Ah, no, um, he, um, has a kind of club meeting he goes to on Saturdays," Dianna lied. She knew he wouldn't want to be with her if he knew what her father was like. A nice boy like him wouldn't want to be dating the daughter of an alcoholic.

Matt drove back to his house, pulled into the driveway, on into the garage, and shut off the engine. Dianna saw him push a button, and realized the garage door was closing. She looked around and saw that the other half of the two-car garage was empty.

"Are your folks home?" she asked.

"Ah, no, they, um, they had to go out to Seattle. My grandmother's real sick," Matt said.

Dianna experienced a surge of disappointment. "Maybe I was wrong about him," she thought. "I can't believe it. Did he figure he could get me over here and get in my pants, just like other guys think they can?" She thought Matt was different.

"If...if you'd rather do something else..." Matt said, sensing her hesitation, "...we can. I mean, we don't have to stay here."

"That's all right," Dianna said, surprised that she agreed. He'd given her an out and she wasn't sure why she didn't take it.

Matt got out and held the door so Dianna could get out, then they went in the house.

"Want a soda?" he asked when the got in the kitchen.

"Sure," Dianna said. She looked around. The house was beautiful. It reminded her of pictures she'd seen in magazines her mother had. It would really be nice to live in a place like this.

Matt handed her a glass filled with soda. "Want to watch a movie?" he asked.

"Sure," Dianna said.

"Any particular movie you want to watch?" Matt asked. "Our collection is pretty complete." He led her into the living room and walked over to a large case filled with video cassettes. "We have most of the new ones, and a bunch of classics."

"Do you have any Shirley Temple movies?" Dianna asked.

"Which one?" Matt said.

She suggested one, he found it, put it in the VCR, and turned on the big-screen TV. Dianna sat down on the sofa, noting that Matt chose to sit in an easy chair near her. She was confused. Why had he asked her over if he wasn't going to make a move on her?

"I thought my mother was the only Shirley Temple fanatic in town," he said as the film began.

"I think she's incredible," Dianna said. "Shirley Temple, I mean. She was so talented. There's never been anyone else like her."