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I was an average student in high school. My grades weren't good enough to get into a decent college, which didn't matter to me at the time. I just didn't care about much except hanging out with my friends and trying to get laid. The problem was, I had no marketable skills. No one was going to hire a lazy dumb kid to do much more than, well, flip burgers, which was what I was already doing. Not what I wanted.

So, I enlisted in the Army. It was much harder than I expected at first, but I matured almost overnight. Part of it was basic survival instinct, but somehow, I suddenly wanted to be GOOD at something. It turned out that I was good with a rifle. Very good.

Honestly, I'm psychologically healthy enough to say that there was a certain satisfaction in being a sniper. I did my job well. A lot of American soldiers got to fight another day because of me. A number of enemy soldiers didn't. This was the simple necessity of war. Part of me wanted to make a career of the Army, but the other part of me wanted to go home and make my way in the civilian world.

The appeal of civilian life won out. I got my honorable discharge and came home. Strong, proud, confident, smart, and tough, I had a fistful of medals. Unfortunately, there aren't many civilian jobs for guys who can shoot a gun, but who don't want to be police snipers. There was no way I was going back to two all beef patties and special sauce, so I wound up getting a job as a construction laborer.

It was tough work to some of the kids on our crew. I immediately knew which of the guys needed training and conditioning, which kids were unmotivated, and who should just be fired. I wasn't vocal about it, but everyone on the crew knew I had their number. I liked the work, and the boss apparently liked me. New training and promotions came easily.

Still, I thought I wanted more out of life. I could continue like I was, and maybe, some day, have a small construction company of my own. But I began to think about how cold it was working outside in the winter, and how stiflingly hot it could be on a job-site in the summer. Muddy boots were losing their appeal. So were nights sitting at home alone, too bone-tired to go out and have any fun.

A television ad for part-time and online courses at the nearby university caught my eye. I called and found out I could audit a course for only a couple of bucks, so on the next miserably rainy day, I went to the campus. A nerdy kid was working as the receptionist in the main office. He pulled up the form I had filled out online and then made a phone call.

Cupping his hand over the receiver, he said to me, “I can send you to a freshman English class or a freshman biology class.”

“I can read and write, but I hate dissecting frogs. I think I'll go with the English class,” I said.

That was ten years ago. Now I'm working on my master's thesis. I'm not going to teach high school. I want to teach at the same university that's been robbing me of sleep for all this time. I could have taken the easy way out. The G.I. bill would have allowed me to go to school full-time and just take a part-time job for spending money. Flipping burgers.

I stayed with the construction firm. Six years in the Army and all those years on job sites have kept me young. I'm healthy and big. I look like I live at the gym, but I don't have the time. When I'm not at work, I'm busting my ass with school. It's paid off. I've already been promised that the university will hire me as soon as I complete my degree.

My apartment is on the second floor of an old house. The steps from my balcony lead down to the parking area in the alley where the neighborhood kids ride their skateboards. These kids aren't serious athletes like the board jockeys you see on TV. They are having fun though, and they stay out of trouble. They know that I know they're there, and they also know I won't call the landlord to have them removed, as long as they stay away from my car, keep the noise down, and pick up their trash when they leave. I was a kid once too.

To those of you who haven't done it, I say to you, don't think academics aren't “work.” They are. Not the physical labor I've grown accustomed to as a civilian, and not the work of being a combat soldier, but work, nevertheless.

For this work, I needed relative quiet so I could concentrate. It was a nice spring day, so my windows were open. The sounds of trucks rumbling down my narrow, badly paved street were louder than usual, but I had my trusty radio for music. It didn't take long for chatter, laughter and occasional shout of the skater kids in the alley below to mix well with the rest of the background noise. I started working.

There was a small thump outside. Then I heard crying. Most of the kids who played in the alley were young teenagers. When they fell, they would laugh, or if they actually hurt themselves, they would try to act macho and utter some ridiculous combination of vulgarity they had picked up in middle school. Occasionally, some wannabe-skank twelve year old girl would hang out, but they were too tough to cry in public, too, and besides, they often just sat on the steps and tried to get the older boys to notice them. This crying sounded like a younger child. The kid was pretty loud, and the wailing didn't stop.

“G. I. Joe! G. I. Joe! ” A kid of about fourteen who called himself “Slash” came bounding up my steps and knocked on my screen door. The skaters called me “G. I. Joe” because of the Veterans of Foreign Wars license plate on my car. From time to time, one of them would ask me a question about my military service, but we were barely more than nodding acquaintances. None of them had ever come upstairs to my door.

“Sean's hurt. We don't know what to do,” Slash yelled through the door. “G. I. Joe?”

Damn it. I was just getting started on the conclusion to my paper. I had come up with a great idea, and I could feel it slipping away.

“G. I. Joe? You in there, dude?”

“Coming!”

I got up and went to the door.

“Sean's hurt. Can you help him? Should we call an ambulance or something?”

A young boy, maybe seven or eight years old, was sitting on my bottom step, bawling his eyes out.

“What happened, Slash?” I asked the teenager as I followed him down the steps. “Who is he?”

“His name's Sean. He lives over on Poplar Street, across from Dogbreath's house.” Dogbreath was a pudgy, scruffy-looking boy, part of the crew that skated in my alley. “He tried to jump his board up on to the curb. We told him he couldn't do it, but he wouldn't listen.”

By this time, I was kneeling next to the young boy. In the most comforting voice I could manage, I said, “Sean, my name is Joe. I live upstairs. Tell me what hurts, son.”

“My knees,” Sean wailed.

I could see some brush-burns through the torn fabric of his pants. “OK, Sean, I need you to calm down and listen to me. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” he whimpered.

“Does anything else hurt besides your knees?”

“My hands.” There was some road rash on the palms of his hands. They would be sore for a while, but there was no bleeding or swelling.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No. Mommy makes me wear my helmet.”

“How did you fall? How did you land?”

Sean sobbed, but tried to compose himself. “I wanted to jump up on your step like the big kids do. I didn't jump high enough. My board hit the step and I fell.”

“Did you fly off your board and land on your hands and knees?”

“I guess.”

“The little dude almost made it,” Dogbreath said. “His wheels hit the edge of the step. The board stopped, but he didn't. He didn't face-plant. He landed on his knees and slid a little, but he got his hands out. I don't think he hit anything else.”

“I want to go home,” Sean said, trying to stifle a sob.

“Can you stand up? I'll walk you home,” I said.

“OK.”

I went upstairs and locked my door, and then took Sean to his house. The kid was a trooper. He picked up his skateboard and started to walk, but I could tell it really hurt him. Poplar Street was at the other end of my alley, and by the time we got there, I decided that it would be faster and easier for him if I carried him.

With Sean on my one hip and his board and helmet in my other hand, we made our way to his house. Sean, who had been calm the whole time I carried him, started crying again as I put him down. He ran into the house yelling, “Mommy!”

A little while later, I was back home, trying to piece together the killer idea I feared I had lost for my paper. A knock came on my screen door again. Shit. Now what? All I wanted was to work in peace.

I stood up and went to my door.

She was silhouetted by the afternoon sun at her back. I didn't know who she was. “Yes?”

“Are you G. I. Joe?”

“Joseph Middleton, ma'am. Can I help you?”

“I'm Sean's mother, Mandy Rogers.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Come in, Mrs. Rogers. How's Sean?”

“It's Miss Rogers, Mandy, please. Sean's fine. I took him to my mother's house to watch TV so I could come over here and thank you,” she said, coming through the door.

This woman was stunning. Luxurious, wavy dark brown hair framed a cover-girl's face with huge blue eyes, a perfect nose, and slightly pouty lips. She seemed to wear no make-up, and she was dressed in jeans and a baggy t-shirt -- nondescript sit-at-home clothes. She looked like a fashion model.

“Please, sit down,” I said. “Would you like some iced tea?”

“Thank you, that would be nice.”

I went to my little kitchen and poured two glasses. When I came back into the living room, Mandy was looking at my battalion flag, service photos and commendations on the wall. “Now I know why the kids call you G. I. Joe,” she said.

“One day I overheard some of them talking down in the alley about how cool it would be to be a sniper killing people, like in some of the video games. They sounded like they thought it would be fun. I went downstairs and set them straight. In real combat, you don't get to 're-spawn.'”

“How long were you in the service?”

“Six years. I considered making it a career, but I started wondering how many more times I would get away with being the 'shooter' instead of the 'shoot-ee.' It was time to come home,” I said.

“What do you do now?” she asked, sipping her tea.

“I work construction and go to college part-time. I was doing schoolwork when I heard Sean crying in the alley.”

“Do you know what happened? Did one of the older boys push him?”

“No. They're pretty decent kids. They seemed like they were trying to look out for him. One of them said your son tried a move that they told him he couldn't do, but he tried it anyway. He fell off his board and tore up his knees. Is he OK?”

“He'll be fine. He was really good about letting me clean him up. He said G. I. Joe told him to be tough.”

I laughed. “I told him he had to let Mommy take care of his wounds. He is a tough little boy, though. He cried when he first got hurt, but he calmed down and wanted to walk home.”

“He said you carried him.”

“Only the last little way. I could tell his knees really hurt him. He was crying pretty hard right after he fell, but he stopped as I talked to him.”

Mandy said, “He cried when he came in the house, but little boys do that when they're hurt. I cleaned up his brush-burns and bandaged his knees. He said he wants me to go to the store to buy G. I. Joe bandages. I think he really likes you.”

I laughed, and she smiled with me.

“What about you, Mandy? What do you do?” I asked.

“I'm a paralegal. I work for a business law firm in the city.”

“You called yourself Miss Rogers. May I ask where Sean's father is?”

“Ha! You can ask. I do all the time. I haven't seen him since I told him I was pregnant with Sean. That was eight years ago. So, I'm a single mom. I work from home as much as I can and my mother helps with babysitting, but it's tough being both Mommy and Daddy. Today, Sean wanted to ride his skateboard, and I knew he'd be with Melvin and Fred.”

“Melvin and Fred?”

“The other kids call them Slash and Dogbreath,” she giggled. “I think they're at that age where boys try to be radical and tough. They're good kids, really, and they treat Sean like a little brother, so I thought he would be OK with them. Anyway, it was quiet at home for once, so I decided to have a nice, long soak in a bubble bath. I guess that makes me a pretty bad mother.”

“No, it makes you a mother who knows that she sometimes needs to take a few minutes for herself,” I said.

“What about you?” Mandy asked. “Any children?”

“No, I haven't had the time.”

“Listen to the voice of experience, Joe. It doesn't take very long to make a baby,” she laughed. “With Sean's father, it took about three minutes from the time we were fully clothed until I was pregnant. He never called me again after he got what he wanted.”

“I'd like to think it would take me a hell of a lot longer than three minutes to make a baby!” I laughed. “Besides, it takes at least eighteen years to make that baby into an adult. I'm not the kind of man who takes these things lightly.”

We sipped our tea in slightly awkward silence for a minute.

“Do you live here alone?” she finally asked.

“Just me, my books, my computer, and my work boots. When I finish my thesis, I have a job waiting at the university. Those boots are going to be buried in a very solemn ceremony. If I never have to look at a hard hat or a nail-gun again, that will be just fine with me.”

“Say, what are you doing for dinner? I feel I should do something for you to re-pay you,” Mandy said.

“You don't need to do that,” I said.

“Yes, I do. Besides, I know Sean would be thrilled if you came for dinner tonight.”

“Well, all right then. What time should I come over?”

“Is six o'clock OK?”

A few minutes before six that evening, I was ringing Mandy's doorbell. Sean answered the door. “Hi, G. I. Joe!”

“How are the knees, big guy?” I asked, squatting down so I would be at his level.

“A little better. Wanna see?” He ran over to the couch and sat down, holding his knees up. “Mommy says I have to keep the bandages on, so I can't really show you, but she said they'll be fine.”

Mandy had done a masterful job with the dressings. She had even drawn a little Army star on the center of each gauze pad.

“Mommy says that she's going to get me G. I. Joe bandages tomorrow. I'm going to be an Army man when I grow up.”

“Where is Mommy, anyway?” I asked.

“Out back. C'mon!”

Sean led me through the house to the deck off the kitchen, and then trotted off to play on the swing that hung from a tree at the back end of the yard.

Mandy was cooking hamburgers on the grill. “Hi, Joe!” she said with a smile.

Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail that stuck out through the opening in the back of a baseball cap. The jeans and baggy t-shirt she wore earlier had been replaced by camp shorts and a conservative halter top. She was actually dressed pretty modestly, considering the warmth of the evening, but I got a better appreciation of her body. I could have a lot of fantasies about this woman.

“I hope burgers on the grill are OK,” she said. “They're Sean's favorite.”

“Mine too, now, but I went through a phase where I couldn't eat ground beef,” I laughed.

“Why?”

“When I was in high school, I used to flip burgers for a living. It got to the point that I couldn't eat fast food for years. Army cooking tasted better. Even now, I hate red-haired clowns.”

Mandy laughed. “I still can't stand girls with little red braids. My manager actually sent a suggestion to corporate that we all should wear wigs to look like the girl on the sign.”

“Oh, a hated rival in the burger wars! Is it safe for me to eat here?” I teased.

“I promise my burgers are better than anything either of us used to make. Now, beating Army mess hall food or 'Meals – Ready to Eat' may be a challenge.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” I laughed.

“Sean wouldn't stop talking about how cool it was that you were coming here tonight,” Mandy said. “He kept asking me how many more days it is until he can enlist. I can't quite get the concept of 'forget it' into his head.”

“The Army isn't for everyone. It was for me for a while, but now that I'm out, I never look back.”

“What was it like, being in combat, Joe?”

“I can't describe it. It's not that I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to be an English prof, so I should be able to express myself, but I just don't have the words.”

“Were you frightened?” Mandy asked.

“No. More like scared out of my mind, if I thought too much about what we were doing.”

“How could you function?”

“Well,” I said, “I had a job to do. We all did. We depended on each other. I knew I was good at my job, and I trusted my guys to be good at theirs. If you let fear into your head out in the field, you're a dead man.”

“I can't see how you could do it,” Mandy said.

“I can't see how you can work full-time and still be Mom to that boy of yours,” I replied.

“You do what you have to do,” she chuckled. “I guess I understand, when you put it that way.” She started taking the burgers off the grill. “Sean,” she called. “Time to wash your hands for dinner.”

“OK, Mommy. Should G. I. Joe wash his too?” Sean asked, running up to the deck.

“Do you want to wash up?” Mandy asked me.

“I'll go help Sean,” I said.

“First door on the right,” she called as I followed the boy into the house.

After we ate, Mandy and I sat on the deck, watching Sean play in the back yard.

“What do you do for fun?” I asked.

She was silent for a moment. Then she gave me a rueful smile. “Does it count that I love my job?”

“That's great, but that's not what I meant. What are your other interests?”

“Being the best mother I can be to Sean.”

“I hope that is fun for you, even though that's work too. Do you ever do anything just for you? Just because you want to?”

“Um, bubble baths?” Mandy asked, sheepishly.

I could feel the first twinges of swelling in my cock. Being with this woman in a bubble bath could be a very interesting experience. “What I meant was, are you free sometime next weekend, and if so, what would you like to do?”

“Are you asking me out?” she giggled.

“Awkwardly, I guess, but yes.”

“I'll have to see if my mother can babysit.”

“Depending on what we decide to do, we could make Sean a part of it. Does he like roller coasters?” I asked.

When I got home that evening, I tried to work on my thesis again. I wrote four pages and deleted all but one sentence. Mandy kept popping into my head.

On Saturday, the older boys were playing with their boards in the alley when I got home from work.

“How was the date, G. I. Joe?” Slash called to me.

“Date?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Dogbreath said. “I saw you over at the Rogers' house across the street from me. That babe is a stone fox MILF!”

“Yeah, did you get any?” Slash asked.

I walked over to the two boys. I could see in their eyes that they knew I was not amused. “You know,” I said, “it must suck having parents that would name their kids Melvin and Fred.” Then I went upstairs and closed the door.

The following Sunday morning, Mandy and her son came to my apartment. We were going to spend the day at a nearby amusement park. She had offered to drive, since Sean and his safety booster seat wouldn't fit in my truck.

Sean pounded on my screen door. “Ready to go, G. I. Joe?” he hollered.

“Come on in, you two,” I said, opening the door. “Let me grab some sunblock.”

“I have some in the car.” Mandy said.

She looked fabulous, as usual. She was wearing a fitted white t-shirt and cut-off denim shorts that displayed her beautiful legs. Her big blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders. I tried not to stare.

“Sit in the back with me, G. I. Joe,” Sean said as he clambered into the back seat.

“Oh, honey, Joe's pretty big. He'll be more comfortable up here with me,” Mandy said, as she buckled him in.

We spent some time at the tamer rides, since Mommy thought Sean was too young for the wilder attractions, and he wasn't tall enough for some of the others. Soon, Sean was bored. He wanted more action.

“Mommy, I want to go on something fast. Something high.”

We were walking past the flume ride. It was one of those water roller-coasters where the long, narrow boats plunged down a steep hill into a pool, making a big splash.

“I don't know, honey,” Mandy said to her son. “I don't want to walk around the rest of the day in wet clothes.”

“Look,” I said. “Those people just got off the ride, and they're not all that wet.”

“Come on, Mommy,” Sean said, dragging her over to the sign at the entrance. “See, I'm big enough.”

“OK, then,” Mandy laughed. “Let's just try to sit where we won't get drenched.”

As we were getting into the boat, I asked the attendant, “Where should we sit if we don't want to get wet?”

“The further front you are, the better,” the teenage boy said.

Just as the ride was pulling away, the kid ran up to us and said, “Maybe I lied.”

There were rapids that we had to traverse, overhead waterfalls, and animatronic elephants spraying water with their trunks. We got splashed a bit, and a little spray and mist dampened us, but we stayed more or less dry. Until the last hill.

“Prepare to get soaked!” the attendant at the top of the hill yelled as our boat plunged into the abyss.

The first ride attendant had lied. The people in the back of the boat stayed pretty dry. Sean ducked down behind the front bulkhead, while Mandy pushed back against me. I had already felt her firm ass against me a few times during the ride. This time, she squeezed back against me hard enough that I could feel my cock begin to grow. Her gorgeous hair was against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her trim abdomen protectively.

The impact with the water in the pool sent a wave of water over Mandy and me. Thank God. The sudden shock of the cool water calmed the erection that would soon be obvious.

As we got out of the boat, I saw that Mandy was pretty much soaked where my arms hadn't covered her. Her white t-shirt had become nearly transparent. So had the apparently unlined bra beneath it.

“'Not all that wet', huh? I'm soaked! And I'm cold!” Mandy laughed.

“Mommy, I can see your boobies,” Sean laughed.

I could too. They looked larger wet. Big enough to keep me amused for hours. With VERY hard nipples.

“What?” Mandy exclaimed, looking down. “Oh God!” she hissed. Her face turned crimson as she covered her breasts with her hands. Then she looked at me. “I'm so embarrassed!”

“G. I. Joe saw your boobies too, Mommy,” Sean giggled.

“Sean, shhhh!” I said, getting down on my haunches to talk to him. “Mommy's cold. We're going to go get her a new shirt. There's a stand right over there.” Looking up to Mandy, I said, “He'll be fine with me for a few minutes. Maybe you could look at those flowers over there where no one can see you, and I'll watch Sean while you go change. OK?”

“Thank you,” she whispered, hurrying over to the plantings.

A few minutes later, a somewhat drier Mandy came out of the ladies' room.

“Thank you, Joe. This dark blue will stay nice and opaque if it gets wet,” she said.

“Oh, darn, I hadn't thought of that,” I teased. “I just thought it would match your eyes.”

She looked at me closely, a smile tugging at her lips. “I don't know if I feel pawed at or flattered,” she murmured, kissing me softly on the cheek.

“You should feel both,” I said as she drew away. The slight movement of her breasts confirmed what I thought I had felt when her body had briefly touched mine. Her bra was gone.

She saw where my eyes were. “It was too wet to wear. So it's in the bag with my wet shirt. Be a gentleman and carry it for me. I'll give you the money for the shirt when we get home.”

“Don't worry about it, Mandy. I'm sorry I was staring.”

“Kinda hard not to see. I looked like some slut up on stage at Spring break.”

“No, you looked like a beautiful lady caught in an awkward situation. Now let's take Sean on a couple more rides,” I said.

She squeezed my hand. “Thank you.”

After some concession stand food and a few more rides, we (the adults) decided it was time to head home. Sean was asleep before we got out of the parking lot.

“That was a lot of fun,” Mandy said as she drove. I almost didn't hear her. The way her car's shoulder belt separated those breasts hidden under her shirt had me lost in a daydream.

“I enjoyed our date. I guess that's what this was,” I said.

Mandy grinned. “I haven't been on a date to an amusement park since I was a high school kid.”

When we got to their house, Mandy woke Sean. “Do you want to come in, Joe?”

“Sure.”

“Sean honey, I want you to go upstairs and take your shower. You can put on shorts and a t-shirt for the evening. I'll change your bandages when you come down.”

“OK, Mommy.” Sean went upstairs.

“He's such a good kid. You're doing a great job with him,” I said.

“Thank you. Sometimes, though, he doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Mandy blushed again. “He didn't need to announce to the world that everyone could see my ... my … well, that everyone could see me today.”

“He wasn't that loud. Besides, he was right. I had already seen them, and I enjoyed the show.”

“Yeah, you looked like you did,” she smirked.

“I'm sorry. I guess that was pretty crude of me,” I said.

“Don't apologize. I kind of liked seeing your reaction. Besides, I enjoyed the flume ride.”

“Really?”

“Yes, at the end, when I could feel you against me.”

Now it was my turn to blush. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I try to be a gentleman. I guess I just reacted to the situation.”

“Do you always try to be a gentleman?” she asked, moving to stand close in front of me. Her big blue eyes were gleaming up at me.

“Not always.”

She put her arms on my shoulders and pulled herself tight against me. It was our first kiss. I could feel her unfettered breasts against my chest, and I'm sure she could feel my manhood lengthening and filling as our tongues briefly met.

“Let me make a phone call,” she breathed as she pulled away. I could see the way her nipples distorted the fabric of her shirt.

In a few minutes, she was back. “My mother's coming to take Sean for the night. That will give us the opportunity to spend a little time together,” she said, pressing herself against me for another interesting kiss.

I worried about it a little, but my erection had faded by the time Mandy's mom showed up to collect Sean for the evening. When they were safely out of sight, Mandy came over to me and kissed me again. “I'm going to go upstairs to take a bath,” she breathed when we came up for air.

“OK. I'll go home and get cleaned up, too.”

“Joe, wait.” She pushed away from me enough to be able to capture me with her eyes. “Let me be honest . I'm a hard-working single mom. As you yourself pointed out, I don't take much time for myself. That means, no dating, no boyfriend, no love. I'm not looking for those things. At this point in my life, my son is the most important thing. I don't have time for a relationship.”

“That's fine. Frankly, until I'm done with my thesis and have started my teaching job, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to give a woman the time she deserves,” I said.

“This is crazy, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I would like you to come upstairs with me to wash my back. We can see what happens from there.”

“All right.”

The last time I had taken a bubble bath was when I was a little kid. Somehow, watching Mandy adjust the water temperature and pour in the bubble soap, I knew I wouldn't miss my rubber duckie.

When the tub was full, she kissed me again. Her hands caressed my back, then my ass.

“Let's get in,” she breathed, lifting the hem of my shirt.

When she removed my shorts and boxers, she let just the tips of her fingers stroke lightly along my awakening shaft. Her touch was making me very hard, very quickly. “Is this for me?” she asked, her big blue eyes staring into mine.

“It's because of you.”

“Undress me, please,” Mandy said before she kissed me again.

Pulling her shirt over her head, I exposed her upper half. Her breasts were even nicer than I thought they would be, having seen them through her wet clothes at the park. Their fullness contrasted beautifully with the rest of her trim torso, and faint tan lines from the previous summer outlined her succulent nipples. When I kissed one, she let out a soft moan and wrapped her fingers more firmly around my cock.

I pulled free of her hand as I kissed her belly. It was hard to believe that it had ever carried a child. Even the girls who helped me learn about sex when I was in high school weren't as firm and smooth as this.

My fingers released the button on her shorts and lowered the zipper. Looking in her large blue eyes, I could see a look of wanting. I could feel her tremble slightly as I lowered the garment. The smooth skin of her thighs crinkled into tiny “goosebumps.” Her aroma was musky, but sweet. We had been walking outside all day, and now, there was fresh moisture.

Her little white panties appeared to match the bra I had seen at the amusement park. They were damp where it mattered, clinging to her sex. I could see the shadow of a small amount of dark hair just below the lace at the top, but the skin that was now showing clearly through the nearly transparent fabric over her opening was clean and pink.

Kissing her just below her navel, I then moved my lips down until I felt cloth. I managed to grab a bit of lace between my teeth and began to lower them.

Mandy moaned.

When I pulled the damp fabric free of her lips, my nose was hovering over her. Inhaling deeply, I decided I had to taste her now. Her hands were on my shoulders as I helped her step out of her panties. “Move your legs apart a little. Yes, just like that.”

“Joe, what are you doing?” she whispered as I kissed her thigh. I kissed the other one higher, an inch or two from her glistening lips. I sucked gently on the tender skin, getting drunk on the taste of her sweat, and high on the smell of her womanhood.

She stammered, “I'm not clean. We were outside all day. Maybe we should … Oh, God!”

My first real taste of her made me rock hard. I started in the little triangle of dark hair, trimmed so short it could barely curl, then traced downward, teasing the protective hood over her pleasure center. Pressing my tongue so gently on her swollen lips that they barely parted to reveal the source of her perfume made her gasp and tremble.

With every pass of my tongue, up, down, and up again, she blossomed more. Each time I licked her entrance, I found more nectar to help lubricate my tongue on its journey to her clit. Every dance of my tongue on her button, every kiss and nibble I tenderly placed on it, earned me a shuddering murmur of her pleasure and fresh droplets of her dew for my thirsty tongue when it moved back down.

Mandy's orgasm was wonderful to witness. Her hands had moved from my shoulders to my scalp as I licked her, but as her time approached, she slid her hands to the back of my neck and head, pulling me to her. My hands felt her ass cheeks tighten as her juice flowed more freely. Slowly, her ragged breathing returned toward normal.

Rising to my feet, I pulled her to me. My cock slid up her abdomen as she clung to me, kissing me fiercely. “Do you want to get in the tub, now?” I asked as I played with her hair.

Backing away so she could penetrate me with those eyes again, she said, “When I recover, I'm going to try to make you feel that good.”

Soaking in the fragrant bubbles with Mandy was amazing. We washed each other's backs, along with some other parts. By the time we were drying each other, we were both very anxious to go to bed. I hoped this was going to be an exhausting night.

She led me to her bedroom with her hand wrapped firmly around my straining erection. Lying back on her bed, her damp hair strewn on the pillow, she stretched her arms out to me. “It's been a long time since I've been with a man, Joe. I hope I remember what to do.”

How could this woman, this single mother, a woman who had to be in her late twenties, look so lush and yet so sweet and innocent at the same time? My cock was throbbing almost uncomfortably as I stood looking at her.

“Joe,” Mandy said, “come to bed. I'd like it if you took your time, but I want you inside me. Besides, your cock is dripping on my carpet.”

“You're so beautiful,” I said as I climbed in bed next to her. Lying on my side, I pulled her to me. Our mouths met in a flurry of hot, deep kisses. As my hands strayed from her throat to her breasts, she began to fondle my balls and stroke my hard-on. Her nipples were amazing, succulent, riding high on her full, firm breasts.

When her left nipple was between my lips, Mandy whispered, “No one has sucked on my breasts since I stopped nursing Sean.”

She was stroking me purposefully now, making me even harder, smearing my moisture all over the head of my cock and down the shaft. I wondered how long I could stand this.

As I feasted on her breasts, licking, sucking, kissing, and nibbling, her hips began to move. Their movement attracted my hand, and it moved to her center. Slowly, I pushed my middle finger into her depths.

“Make love to me, Joe,” she whimpered. “Fuck me.”

I was amazed at how tightly her vagina gripped my second finger. I felt that my tongue belonged in there again, and I moved down.

“No, please, you can't do that again,” she said as I kissed the tiny patch of dark fuzz above her woman parts.

“Why not?”

“I haven't tasted you yet,” she said, “and I want to.”

Mandy pushed me onto my back, and kissed me hard and passionately. Our tongues explored and wrestled, and then softer kisses and playful nibbles rained down my chest and belly. She moved her hair so I could see as she held my cock in her hands, admiring it for a moment, before bathing the tip of it with her tongue. When she first took me between her lips, I barely recognized my own voice in the growl of pleasure that came from deep within.

For a while, she contented herself with simply bobbing her head up and down. Then she pulled herself off me and began bathing my cock and balls with her tongue. When she began sucking my balls into her mouth and jacking me firmly with her hand, I felt the pressure building.

“You're going to make me cum,” I said.

“I know.”

Her mouth engulfed me again, sucking, pulling, willing the juices from me. A hundred sensations overwhelmed me. I thought I could hear my heart thudding in my chest. The smell of my own fresh sweat mingled with the aroma of her pussy. Her beautiful face was impaled on my cock, and her eyes were begging to taste me. The explosion of my overfull cock in her mouth was like none I could remember.

She swallowed every drop as I grunted my appreciation, and then bathed my cock again looking for any essence she may have missed.

“I haven't done that in years,” Mandy said, smiling at me. She moved up in the bed to lie next to me, partially on my chest. Her hand went to my cock again as we kissed. “You're still hard.”

“You make me that way,” I said between tastes of her salty lips.

“May I ride you?” she asked, moving to straddle me. Her hand grasped my cock and positioned it at her weeping hole. Her lower lips parted to admit me, and she slowly lowered herself. In one long, luxurious movement, she encased me, finally settling her weight onto my pelvis.

I was in heaven. Her tight, slippery, warm pussy surrounded all of me, and she stayed still for a few moments, both of us glorying in the sensation of our coupling. Slowly, she raised herself until only my tip was still trapped in her wet velvet sheath, and then she allowed herself to sink down again. We fucked for a while this way, slowly, deliberately, allowing ourselves to savor the pleasure of our movements.

“God, this feels so good,” she murmured as she took my cock to the root once more. Changing her position, she leaned forward to offer her breasts to my mouth as she started rocking her hips forward and back on my shaft. I cupped her firm buttocks in my hands as I helped her move.

She picked up her rhythm, and I began to meet her thrusts with my own. Her cobalt eyes were open wide at first, boring into me, but gradually, her lids began to flutter. As we went faster, her eyes lost focus and began to roll up in her head. Her breathing became audible, progressing from deep breaths to gasps. “Cumming, cumming, cumming!” she whined.

Her already tight pussy squeezed me tighter as we fucked. I could feel the ripples of motion inside of her as her moisture bathed my cock and balls. Then she collapsed on top of me and sought my mouth with hers.

When she had regained herself, she said, “I want you to cum again. I want you to fill me. Please. I need it.”

Holding her tightly, I rolled her onto her back and lifted her legs onto my shoulders. Grasping her ass in my hands, I plunged myself deep inside her, over and over. Her beautiful face was beaming at me as she saw the ecstasy on mine. Over and over, firmly, but never roughly, I plowed this woman. Every inch of me was swallowed repeatedly by her swollen, hot lower lips. It had been quite a while since I had taken the time to enjoy a woman, and I wanted this to last, but soon, I knew it wouldn't.

When her lashes began to flutter again, I realized that she was going to cum with me. Each grunt I made as I spewed inside her was answered by a moan or gasp of her own. And still we continued our coupling.

Finally spent, I pulled my softening cock from her well-soaked depths. Lying down again, I pulled her to me. We slept.

Her phone woke us. As she talked, I admired her. She had rolled away from me, allowing me to caress the warm, smooth skin of her back and to play with her sleep-tousled hair. “See you then, Mom,” she said, hanging up the phone.

She rolled over to cuddle with me again. Stroking her fingers lazily over my chest and abdomen, she asked, “What do you want out of our relationship?”

“Frankly, I'm not sure. When I asked you out, I thought we would just have some fun together getting to know each other better,” I said.

She laughed. “I did have fun, and I think I do know you a little better than I did when we left for the amusement park. Sean loves you, and I enjoyed being with you all day. And all night. I'm not ready to even think about the future. Can we just keep things at this level?”

“If that's what you want,” I said.

“You probably shouldn't be in my bed when Sean and Mom get here.”

“I guess you're right. That could be awkward.”

“Don't worry. Mom had a pretty good idea of why I wanted Sean out of the house last night. She even asked me on the phone if an hour would give me enough time to do what I wanted to do this morning.”

“What's that?” I asked.

“See if I can talk you into fucking me again,” she said with a smile as her hand found my re-invigorated cock. “I want you to take me again. I need to feel you shoot your cum into me one more time before you go.”

She moved to her hands and knees. Her juices were glistening on her sex, inviting me to enter her. I did.

After we finished, we took a quick shower together. When we were dressed, I helped her strip the rumpled sheets from her bed and to re-make it. Then it was time for me to go.

At her front door, we stopped to kiss. “I never considered having a fuck buddy,” Mandy said.

“Is that what we are?” I asked.

“Can we be?” Mandy had fixed on me again with her intense blue eyes.

“I'd like that,” I said, opening the door and walking outside. I heard the door latch quietly behind me.

The skateboard kids were in the alley when I got home. Dogbreath called, “Hey, G. I. Joe! I saw you at the Rogers' house last night. Are you just getting home now?”

“Shut up, Fred,” Slash said as I went upstairs.

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