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Memories Of A MILF
When I think about the crazy year with Kim, my favorite memory is always of one particular morning just a few days into us sleeping together. The morning light in that killer bathroom of hers was meant for her, the sun worshipping her. She had a cup of coffee in hand, though she finished it already. One of her long legs was up and out of the water, giving me a tantalizing look at her creamy thigh as the water and soap bubbles cascaded off it. Messy tendrils of her dark hair caressed her face, and her eyes sparkled as I read her the morning news from her tablet.
She always preferred bubble baths, I remember that. Her ritual was taking long relaxing soaks every day her two children were at school. I didn’t know that quite yet. Our relationship was still a new thing, no label put on it yet. That was what damned us, eventually. I wanted us to be more and Kim… Kim thought that couldn’t be. I was her best friend’s son. I pushed too hard for us to move in together, and… well…
But that was in the future. This was still in the earliest days, just a couple weeks after my eighteenth birthday, when I brazenly told Kim what I really wanted was her. It took her some time to decide that was what she wanted too, but when she did, we didn’t leave her bed for anything save her kids’ needs.
As she twirled her ankle this way and that in the air, my words faltered. I kept…
