Mimi and Me
Dad married early, and they had just one kid, which was me. Trouble was, Mom died having me. Dad got a girl, late teens old, to baby-sit and help to take care of me. Then he got the sitter ‘in trouble,’ (i.e., pregnant) and had to marry her about a year later. She lost that child late in the pregnancy, which left just me. So I called her “Mimi” from my earliest memory. There must have been some trouble; I just didn’t know exactly what, ’cause Dad and “Mimi” split when I was in middle school. It was a pretty good marriage, they both said, they just drifted apart. Actually they both had some affairs. Dad told me about Mimi’s affairs, but I never heard about her side of the story.
Anyway, the court assigned me to Dad, as he had all of the family money. I suppose I should have suspected something with that arrangement, but I was just a kid, what did I know. Mimi left town, and dropped out of sight, except for birthday and Christmas cards, I thought. I stayed in L. A. with Dad.
Dad took care of me, but continued his affairs, each a little shorter than the one before, until he was down to one-night stands with hookers. Some of the grunting sex he did was getting kinky, and I knew there were drugs in the house. After the divorce, he seemed to get out of control more often. There was booze and worse. He had plenty of money, so I didn’t worry too much, until I came home just after my high school graduation night, and found him dead in the living room, dick hanging out and recently crusted, with a needle still in his arm. The coroner said it was a goofball, heroin and cocaine mixed, and really pure stuff. Plus a long-untreated case of clap, serious heart disease and advanced AIDS. I got tested and passed OK, but I never suspected things had gone that far.
Dad’s attorney was a brick, right then, and helped me obtain emancipation, declaring me to be an adult at just past 18. There were a couple of term life-insurance policies, in addition to his investments, which netted me about a million as seed money. So I passed up college, and took crash courses in investing at the public library, a couple of brokerages and night school courses. I got a discount broker and started a supervised investing program, setting up things into groups of ultra-conservative investment for income and moderate-risk investment for growth. I made money finishing up the dot.com boom, and kept it in a cash position through the bust. He helped me sell the house, so I could move into an apartment, and set up a short-term trust to keep my money safe until I reached 21. Not too scruffy for a 20 year old guy.
This didn’t leave much time for a social life, but the girls in high school were the usual, giggly airheads; or gold-diggers; or quiet and studious; or nascent social liberals and radicals. I wasn’t in college, so college girls wouldn’t give me the time of day, too. I couldn’t meet girls in bars, either, being underage. Buy it from hookers, or go down to Tijuana? No thanks. So I made do with Freddy Feel-Good and his Funky Little Five Piece Band.
I had to inventory the house and its contents, for the estate sale. I decided to keep very little, on my attorney’s advice. Business papers, tax records, stuff like that. Some of Mimi’s old stuff, from a box in the back of the garage. And the contents of dad’s safe. He’d never given out the combination, or told me how to get in, but I just applied a little psychology, searched his office, and found it written on the back of the fake picture of the life-size nude he had in his home office. Ten minutes, tops, to get it open.
That’s when I discovered the pile of letters from “Mimi.” He’d kept all of them from me. I couldn’t bear to read them all. I also discovered that, for several years, his support checks—which I was publicly made aware of, mailing each one per month—were made out to a fake address. The money had gone for coke and junk. Even the letters I’d written had gone to the same fake address. She hadn’t heard from either of us for a long time. Her coolly worded cards to me for Christmas and birthdays were fakes, handwritten and signed by a hired someone else.
[I can’t say anything good about hard drugs. Pot and pills are OK, if you take care of yourself, use sparingly and stay focused on the good things in life. But the big drugs suck. They take over your life, and focus you down to the next few fixes, and to a totally self-centered view of everything, completely justified only to the user. ‘Nuff said! ]
I checked out her real address. She’d wound up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and working a little dead-end job, when the support checks petered out. Nowhere near enough money to hire an attorney to get back payments made.
Sort of perversely, though, I leafed through the folder Dad had compiled on her, over the years. Oh, my, did she have some fun with Dad. There were even photos (Polaroid’s) of some ‘suggestive’ poses. Probably tame by current standards (where girlfriends and wives pose waving American flags clenched tightly in their Ankara bayan escort pussies) but kind of raw even for the 60’s. I found myself with a boner before I realized that this was my “Mimi,” fer God’s sake. It took some time to fight it down. She was a topless looker, with straight black hair and eyes, and … whoa, guy, get that turgid meat back down.
Dad had listed all her affairs, by name of lover and by acts committed. He’d even audiotaped some sessions, with a hidden microphone, onto cassette tape. Trembling a little, I played a couple. Jesus H. Christ could that girl squeal! There was one section where I didn’t hear anything except for grunts, heavy breathing, Mimi’s gasps of, “yes, yes, yes,” and the liquid squelch and suck sounds of hot, sloppy-wet sex … which grew more pronounced as the tape went on, and on, and on, until she loudly, explicitly and graphically came, over and over. Think about an articulate porn queen on speed. I thought I could hear the spunk of her lover, squirting out her body, with each spasming thrust. Aw, shit, now I had another ultra-rigid erection to get rid of. Cold water and frantic jacking off just barely got me back to normal.
When the financial stuff was done, I found myself comfortably invested, with a nice income, but no friends or commitments. Nearly everyone from school had gone off to college, got a job away from town, or disappeared in one way or another. The couple of ‘friends’ that were left hit me up every chance they had for handouts or backing this or that flimsy scheme. When I wouldn’t come across and then dropped them, they complained to anyone who’d listen, slandered my name and reputation, and swore revenge.
Talking things over with my attorney (the brick), I somehow found myself on the road to Albuquerque, New Mexico, in a car with most of my stuff in the back. No apartment, no ties.
I figured it out while stopping at a motel in El Paso. My “brick” attorney was lover number 2 (the suck/squelcher), and he’d been helping Mimi out with a check now and then. Married, with a jealous wife and three kids, he was worried about his past. I called him back, told him what I found, and let him hear the sound of a crosscut shredder, as I trashed every scrap of information about him in the files I found, including the audio tape (smashed, cut up; and burned). Then I asked him if he’d keep representing me, and where I was, and where headed, and would he please let Mimi know I was coming.
When I pulled into the gravel driveway, off a side street in Albuquerque, I was shocked to see the little apartment, a converted attic over a converted garage, back down a driveway past an old frame house close to the University campus. A cheap place, a starving-student joint. I arrived in the late afternoon.
Reunions are frantic to live through, and difficult to write about. Mostly boring, too. Going through the door, I was seized by a young looking, middle-aged woman (“Mimi”), kissed, cried over, yelled at, kissed, ruffled, patted down, deep kissed, asked of, sworn at, slow kissed with tongue and sat on for quite a while. Now, don’t get me wrong, but I really liked the ‘sitting on’ and ‘deep kissing’ parts, even if her skirt did ride up her thighs to amazing levels, and her legs were completely wrapped around me, ankles locked. She had a nice bounce, too. She just smiled and tongue kissed me some more, when she caught me staring at her tanned thighs. I got some words in edgewise at about the second hour, and some cookies and milk at the third.
She asked about Dad, but her voice was free of bitterness, just more like ‘I’ve got to do this, but it was a long time ago, y’know’ kind of tone. She knew about the overdose, and that I was taking care of the estate (no sense going into detail right then, money talk always complicates things when emotions are stirred up).
I took her out for dinner, to a Mexican place she knew. The conversation turned a little strange, a couple of times, when she asked me about Mary Ellen Radcliffe, our former neighbor. I wasn’t sure how to answer her, particularly since Mary Ellen had deprived me of both my virginity and several quarts of semen over the months, when I was 17. I nearly died with the ‘hornys’ when she moved away with her husband and her pregnant belly. I say it got kind of strange, ’cause when I was stuttering around the questions about Mary Ellen, and why I just had to do household chores for her, I found myself looking down Mimi’s peasant blouse, which was exposing quite a bit of cleavage, mostly because she was bending far forward at the table, to hear me give my answers to her ‘innocent’ questions.
OK, she was falling out of it. That must have been a transparent demi-cup bra, because I couldn’t see straps or outlines. The jiggle and sway of her breast tops hypnotized me, and I couldn’t concentrate.
Back in her apartment, we applied ourselves to a bottle of good wine for our ‘homecoming’ celebration. She had called out sick at her job for the next day, Friday, Escort bayan Ankara and then we had the weekend. Working on the wine, we had the usual argument about where I was going to stay, which I delightfully lost to my staying at her place, where I already was. Then, about half way through the bottle, and both of us getting a little fuzzy, we had another “discussion” as to where I was going to sleep, which she lost (I just dumped my little overnight duffle on the floor, slumped on the worn couch, and dared her to pull me off) so she got her own bed.
But she kept looking at me sideways, and smiling a lot. Somehow the peasant blouse had shifted ‘way down past her shoulders, holding itself up by pure living and righteous thoughts alone, ’cause the elastic was fighting a loosing battle with gravity, and I was seeing more of “Mimi” than I had counted on. Her nipples were just below the level of the elastic of the top. Goddamn, stepmother or not, that girl had a chest. Not big, but shaped!! Not that I minded, but I was fighting internally to keep my cock at less than half mast (and failing). This was a lot of woman, and I hadn’t had any sex since Mary Ellen, and, damn, it was warm in here.
There actually wasn’t much difference where I slept, since the bed was a single, and the apartment was sort of one big room, with a curtain to pull across to screen off the “bedroom”. When she pulled on the old material of the screen too hard, it ripped and shredded on the spot. We were left with the couch facing the bed. I think this was an accident, even now, but I looked up from the fabric wreckage to catch a little smile on her lips and narrowed eyes, instantly erased by a loud laugh and her comment that, “well, that hasn’t been pulled out for a while.”
I was offered the little shower first, but said, “no,” to which she smiled ‘that’ smile again, and pulled the curtain around the bathroom cubicle. Then her clothes started appearing, thrown over the top of the curtain pull rod: just the short skirt and peasant blouse. I looked for panties, but there weren’t any. No bra either. Sandals were kicked out from under the curtain. It suddenly dawned on me that “Mimi” had been showing off her assets to me during dinner and afterwards. I felt funny about that, but also warm and tingly, that she thought I was attractive enough to show off to.
I heard the water start, as she called me to get a large towel from the worn bureau across the room. “Just pull on the catch of the curtain, and hand it in to me,” she said, with a little laugh in her voice. So I pulled, and then tugged again. The entire rod assembly, clothing and all, came out of the wall, off the shower stall and crashed on the floor.
Mimi was gloriously bare in the shower, her still black hair wet and shiny. She had soap suds on her face, and her eyes squinched shut. She was soaping up her body as I watched. Probably I should have backed away, but I was glued to that spot with the epoxy of lust and boner. I’d always had a ‘thing’ for mature women (Mary Ellen, the neighbor I mentioned, was a trim 42 when she ‘paid’ me for yard work by pinning me to the floor and impaling herself on my rigid manhood, the first time). So I saw a visibly middle-aged woman, but still attractive, wringing wet, who couldn’t see me. A side view, letting me see a small protruding tummy, long muscular legs, and—gasp! —’ski-slope’ breasts, still ‘perky’ and with big nipples protruding.
Water still cascading off her body, she calmly said, “damn, Jim, I should have told you about that curtain rod, it kept happening to me until I learned to hold it with one hand and pull with just the other. Oh, well, I can put it back up tomorrow. Can you get me the shampoo, it’s on the toilet seat?”
I dumbly reached over and picked up the plastic bottle, and then reached to hand it to her. Her hand waved where my hand wasn’t, so I had to move two steps closer, and put the bottle in her hand, The touch was electric, and we both stopped moving for a couple of moments. I was probably lost right then, ’cause I didn’t move away or even close my eyes. She held onto my hand with her two free fingers, for some long, slow magic seconds. I watched her shampoo her hair, still with her eyes closed, and then apply conditioner, which I also handed to her.
Still calmly, she said. “I know you’re looking at me. And I’m naked. And I’m your step-mom. It’s OK; I like to be bare and watched. It’s fun. It makes me excited. Keep on looking. I bet you like my tits. Shall I turn around a bit, show you the rest?”
I croaked from a dessert-dry mouth, “yeah, please.”
She turned a quarter around, until I got what the porn people call ‘full-frontal nudity’. How to describe a woman, wet, eyes closed, in full voluntary display, and smiling. Waist a little thickened, as expected, but generous hips and a tight, full ass. Long legs, also muscular. Some thick fur at her pussy, but trimmed over her pussy lips, which were full and pouting. Despite the warm water in the shower, I started Bayan escort Ankara to drool as her nipples grew, stiffened and protruded, dark red and nearly vibrating. I just watched for a full minute or so, as she turned to show off her ass, and then back to the other side view. Then she rinsed off the conditioner.
She opened her eyes (dark) and looked right at me. “Take a good look, son, then you can help me dry off. I don’t really need to wrap up in the big towel, do I, anymore?”
“N-n-n-n-ooo,” I stammered.
“That’s good. I’m coming out now,” she added, as she turned off the water and stepped out, over the ruins of the curtain and stood in the center of the room. Her legs were a little apart, her fur dripping wet, and her breasts swayed and jiggled, as she toweled herself dry, and tied up her hair in a turban with the damp towel.
She stared at me, and asked, “Jim, I gave up lying a long time ago. That lost me most of my friends and my last boyfriend. I feel really sexy, around you. You do know what’s happening, don’t you, son?”
I may be young, but I’m not dumb. “You’re my step-mother and you’re seducing me, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. I like this; it gets all the extra shame baggage out of the way, so we can get to the heart of things quicker. Can we dispose of the guilt, too? Good! How about I pose some for you? I’m sure you found the photos of me in your Dad’s things. How about this one? Or this? Or even this one?” My totally nude ‘Mimi’ bent back, emphasizing her breasts, settled on the bureau, pulled up one leg, leaving the other one slightly bent, and looked up at me from under lowered lashes. Then she improved on the 60’s ‘nudie-cutie’ pin up pose, turning a little toward me as she opened her thighs just a little, for a hint of black fur, and then a fully-19990’s pose, pussy proudly displayed through half-opened thighs.
“Like it?” she asked. I nodded, tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. “You’re doing a good job of seduction, Mimi,” I grinned and said, as she silently stared at my waist and below.
“I can see that,” she grinned, gesturing with her delicate chin toward my waist. My God, the erection I had listening to Dad’s secret tape was nothing like the one I had now, pushing and straining at the zipper of my Dockers and briefs. I started to stroke the sensitive cloth-covered bulge.
“Oh, son, we can’t have you masturbating in public in your clothes. Take it out and let me see it.” She added, sadly, ” I haven’t seen a man, or had a hard cock in front of me, for over a year.”
My hands followed her directions, as my straining male member became Aaron’s Rod of Iron, standing proudly from the opening of my trousers.
Mimi looked up at me, and smiled, saying, “you know what’s happening, don’t you, Jim? I’m seducing you into having me for sex. You’re going to fuck your stepmother’s body in a few minutes. And that’ll change everything between us. I’ll still be the “Mimi” that raised you, but also your lover. You’ll get a lot of power over me, and I want you to have it, and want you to use it while you use me.”
“Is this what you really want?” she added, in a throaty voice. I just nodded, starting to move my hips back and forth a little, a motion she saw, and smiled at.
“Get out of those clothes, and then get into the bed, right after me. Then get over on top of me, ’cause I’ll be on my back, under you. But don’t plunge inside me just yet. I promise, cross my heart, you will do just that and real soon. And I’m going to make what happens next tree-top good for you.”
I swore later I ripped the zipper out of my trousers and shirt buttons sprayed around the room. I lurched over to the bed, nearly falling with eagerness. Mimi was there. On her back, legs drawn up in classic missionary pose, hands behind her head. She murmured, “OK son, you get right over me, here between my legs. Let me look at you, my own boy. Let me look at your cock, too. Oh, it’s so stiff and red. Now, you look at me.” A drop of hot pre-come fell in a long sticky drop, to land on her belly. She grinned a 100-watt smile, as she massaged the drop into her belly flesh. “That was nice. See if you can put the next one on my stiff nip. You can have lots of practice dripping stuff on me, I promise.
Then her face turned serious. She said, low and urgent, “Jim, before we start, I got to say this. You just have to believe me. Write it on your soul, if you can. I WANT this to happen. I want your big penis in my vagina. Better, I want your big COCK in my CUNT. There, I’ve said it. I WANT you to thrust into me, and I WANT you to come in me.”
“And,” she finished, “I want the changes this will make in us. As soon as your cockhead slides between my wet lips, we’re changed. It’s almost incest for us. I want to squeal it out loud, and I want you to say it when you come, if you can still talk then. I’m still your step-mom, but I’ve become your incestuous dirty slut sex toy, too. And that makes me all shivery. Honey, look at my titties and nipples. See how hard they are. They want you. Now look at my pussy lips. See how wet and shiny they are. There’s already a wet spot in the bed, just from my staring at you and wanting your body, and we’re hardly started. My pussy wants your big cock.”