Hot Dogs Hot Sun, Hot Moms Hot Fun

I’ve had a thing for Tracy for years. It started on the very first day of my sons pre-school, where she was also dropping her son off at the same time. She was this adorable petite brunette, dressed comfortably in a sundress and cute sandals showing adorable toes, and we smiled at one another. And that was it. Except for one thing.

Because the first little-known fact about hot moms and dropping kids off at pre-school, is that they are preoccupied with hugging their kids goodbye. And pre-school kids are short. And hot moms have to either crouch to kiss their kids, or lean way forward. Meaning there are often delightful sights to be had, and on that fateful first day of school, I got a glimpse all the way up Tracy’s sundress, to the most delightfully hairless sight I think I had ever seen. Upskirt and down-blouse views of moms hot and cold are a great perk to dropping your kids off at pre-school, if you’re a slightly twisted individual. I fit that description.

And that was it. Over the following years, my son and hers became friends, and I’d hear about Timmy from time to time. They weren’t necessarily inseparable best friends, and not in the same class, they just bonded a little and I’d hear about him from time to time.

Which leads to the second little known fact about being a parent: you’ll often have no idea what the kids last name is. Sure, some of time you know, but if for example the kids are in different classes or if there isn’t a birthday party where you see the last name written down, you frequently only know kids by their first name, which is all the kids care about anyway. In Tracy’s case, it was one of those times. At first I didn’t know her name at all, and later on, I sent a few more years not knowing her last name either.

After a couple years of waving, nods, and casual hellos and smiles, I finally talked to Timmy’s hot mom in the parking lot while our boys played by the swing sets. “I’m Tracy, by the way. All these years, we’ve never actually had the chance to talk. I hear so much about your son!”

“Jack. And very nice to meet you! I feel like I know you and Timmy already!” I smiled, and we continued small talk while our kids played.

Eventually, it was time to leave. The boys came over, and wanted to go to the movies this Saturday. It seemed like a good idea, and Tracy and I exchanged numbers. And as I mentioned, you don’t always bother with last names, and I plugged her number into my cell phone, and she plugged mine into hers. We were busy talking, so I just saved the name as “Tracy” in my phone’s contact list and we agreed to meet at the theater by the mall for the 10:00 a.m. kid’s matinee. Again, all perfectly innocent, and the day went by without a hitch.

I will add that I have a bit of a sense of humor, so I save contacts in my phone with sometimes amusing names, such as “Joe Car Mechanic”, “Bob Plumber”, “Sonya Dentist” and so on. So one day shortly thereafter, I edited Tracy’s contact entry to “Tracy Timmy’s Hot Mom”, just to be funny. At least in my own mind it was funny, and nobody would ever see, so it was my own inside joke to myself.

On another occasion, I saw her in the parking lot after a school play, talking to another mom. Keep in mind, she’s incredibly attractive and nice to look at, so I usually would remember whenever I saw her. On this day, she was talking to another mom (also hot, a voluptuous blonde) I had seen around, except they were standing unusually close to one another, and in addition, gazing deep into one another’s eyes and having a very intimate conversation. I didn’t think too much of it, other than wishing they’d make out and let me watch. I am, after all, still a typical male, and hot moms making out is sexy. At this stage of the game, I still didn’t really know her that well, but she was attractive and sexy enough, that she was a frequent visitor to my daydreams.

Fast forward even a few more years: At about age ten, the boys had gotten to be even better friends, and there were many times I dropped my son off to visit Timmy. I discovered that Tracy lived with a woman, actually the same woman I had seen her talking to before, and that Tracy and the woman were a couple, quietly living their life together, not drawing unusual attention to themselves, but not hiding their lifestyle either. “More power to them.” I thought to myself.

Don’t get me wrong. I may be all grown up and enlightened, but Tracy was still beautiful, her roommate was also beautiful, and even if I realized there probably wasn’t much hope, I still fantasized about Tracy, and now the roommate too. I imagined what they would look like together, and of course, I imagined what all three of us would look like together too. Deep down inside, I realized this was just a fantasy, and I just behaved normally and appropriately, and we were all happy that our kids had some nice friends for one another.

So all this leads up to this summer. The end of school arrived, the kids still played together, and one day, I got a text from Tracy about a summer Fourth of July pool party at her house, except it was actually happening on July 1st. She also made it clear parents were invited too. I accepted, and told her I would bring my famous Strawberry Shortcake, which I made by hand, all by myself. Realistically, the Strawberry Shortcake was quite good, but it probably wasn’t really all that famous. I name my Strawberry Shortcakes the same way I name contacts in my phone, with a generous bit of creative license.

I arrive at the party with my son and my famous Strawberry Shortcake, and ring the doorbell. They have an ornate front door with a glass mosaic, where you can see a little bit through the glass, but not too much. I see a shape I recognize as Tracy coming to the door, and she opens the door and welcomes us in. I tried not to look too obvious as I gasped, because Tracy was in an adorable little bikini, nothing inappropriate, except for how magnificent she looked. It turned out she isn’t just petite and adorable, she is also fit and firm. And the bikini top wasn’t heavily padded, so there were nipple outlines to be seen through the fabric. She looked amazing.

I come in, and there is the roommate, also gorgeous, except she was (as usual) overdressed. She was a girly-girl type, long blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs, always made up wonderfully, hair perfect, make-up perfect, and a seemingly always a little overdressed for whatever the occasion. Today for example, it is a summer pool party, but she is in impeccably pressed linen shorts, an expensive top, and cute strappy sandals. She looked marvelous of course, just a bit out of place and overdressed for the occasion.

We have a great fun day. There were about ten kids, two or three other parents, and Tracy and her roommate. There were hot dogs, kids jumping in pools, a game of back-yard volleyball, ice cream cones, a good time all around. During the volleyball game, I was actually a little surprised that the roommate joined us, since she might get sweaty, but as I would soon learn, she was full of surprises. She was actually very athletic, a former collegiate athlete, and better at volleyball than all the rest of us combined. It was still just back-yard volleyball though, more time chasing the ball than actually making any proper hits over the net (other than the roommate). Tracy and her roommate looked absolutely magnificent, and only got sexier as they built up a layer of glistening sweat. Tracy with beads of sweat visible on her abdomen, the roommate with sweat in her ample and tastefully visible cleavage.

I also had to try to distract myself to avoid getting aroused, because they were quite affectionate as they played, occasionally bumping hips or patting one another on the back for good plays. The game ended when one of the kids hit the ball way off into the distance. I trotted down to the end of the yard to get the ball, and by the time I turned around, everyone was heading back to the house, Tracy and her roommate bringing up the rear of the crowd, and had probably forgotten that I was behind them, because they stole a kiss on the lips while they thought no-one was looking. This was obviously arousing to my simple man’s mind, two beautiful women kissing, but I had to also admit, it was really sweet. They clearly were very happy together, and it wasn’t just hot and sexy, it was touching and romantic. Obviously, I still wanted to watch them having hot sweaty sex then get to join them, but still, it was sweet to see their relationship. More urgent, however: I needed this erection to go down. I held the volleyball in front of me, as hopefully a distraction, and thankfully, things settled down a bit.

The pool party proceeded. At one point, I got my phone out, and started taking lots of pictures. My phone has a decent camera, and some of the pictures came out extremely well, including lots of hilarious candid shots. I also confess, there were times where I timed my snapshots to include Tracy or her roommate in the background, so I would secretly still have some photos of them to look at later. I got one while she was in the pool, and her nipples were even more pronounced in that picture. I couldn’t wait to get home to zoom in on it.

At dusk, people were getting tired, so the arrival of the mosquitoes was just the excuse everyone was looking for to call the party over. All the other families left, leaving me and my son as the last guests present. During the extended goodbye session, I mentioned that I had gotten some great pictures, and got out my phone to show the particularly funny ones.

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious! Send them to me!” Tracy said. She was standing right next to me in order to see the pictures, leaning over and peering at my phone.

“Definitely.” I said. Then I remembered that if I sent them right then, Tracy would see the “Tracy Timmy’s Hot Mom” name I had assigned to her in the phone book. I tried to delay, and said, “OK, I’ll collect them all together, and send them all over in a bit.”

Tracy had no idea why I was delaying. “OK, but send that one of them jumping in the pool right now, I have to send that to my family, they will die laughing.”

“Umm… Ok.” I said. This was going to be awkward, because she was still standing right next to me, and seemingly had no intention of looking away or letting me off the hook. I started typing in her phone number, instead of navigating through the contact list, in hopes that she would stop looking at my phone, but instead, she started reading off her phone number.

“That’s five-five-five, six-seven-nine…” and she proceeded to read off her number. The problem is that I knew that once I typed in the full number, the phone would automatically recognize the number, and display the contact list entry. I intentionally made a typo, still holding out hope Tracy would stop looking at my screen as I typed. “No, no, no, you typed it in wrong. It’s six-seven-nine.” she corrected me.

Finally I gave up. I wasn’t getting off the hook, she wasn’t looking away, and I had no choice but to type in the number. As I typed in the final digit, the display changed from the phone number to “Tracy Timmy’s Hot Mom”.