Mommy’s Needs

I had always been proud of john. He was always helping out in any way he could, and after his father died, he really stepped up to the plate by getting a job to help pay what bills he could and doing a lot of work around the house that’d usually be reserved for a man. He was more like a man than he realized though, at least in terms of maturity. He had maintained his grades, which were superb to begin with, and had earned a scholarship to the local state university. My job as a personal trainer kept me around enough to take care of a lot of things around the house, as I could have clients come over and train in the basement once occupied by my late husband. He had passed away when John was only 3, and in doing so, left the majority of work in raising john to me. I dated for a year or two after his passing however I quickly found out that the pool of men to draw from wasn’t quite what it’d used to be. I guess I had gotten lucky… I was just now starting to get back into the dating scene however, and had upped my training so-to-speak in an effort to impress the men I might later be spending a lot of my time with. The reeling in used to be the hard part, now I needed to work on my bait. It didn’t take to long to get in to “fighting shape” I had always ran, and I still do to this day, although not competitively like I did up through college. I always had a pretty good metabolism, so I reality, I only needed to shed about ten or fifteen pounds. Although a little bit of my mother in me was making me feel like it should’ve been twenty-five or thirty. I wholeheartedly knew this wasn’t the case though, as I was definitely what men would consider curvaceous. I was 43 now, and needed the help of color in box to maintain the same tantalizing brunette locks I had in my younger years, but I still felt my body was great, without the help of any silicone or liposuction machines. My butt was still firm, I guess my Hispanic heritage helped a slight bit, my mother was from Spain, and I’m thinking she was to thank for what often got cat calls and whistles after a workout whilst walking home or to the bus stop in some form-fitting sweats. This was especially the case when I was training a client over in the rough part of town. I knew I had a great pair. You learn pretty quickly when you’re 15 and walking though a crowded mall with your friends and teenage boys and married men alike are starring at your tits. They were full and firm 34C’s, at least that’s the size bra I wore. My Curvy figure made it a bit harder to find the right fit, as my hourglass figure is not the same one shared by all bra consumers. Plus, the little extra tightness pushed them up ever so slightly, increasing my already fantastic cleavage and aiding me just a bit more in securing one more free drink after a hard nights work. Well, I know I’ve been long in setting up my little story here, but this is where our little story gets interesting. After one of those aforementioned “hard days of work” I went to the local watering hole with my best friend Stacy. We had always been close; we roomed together in college, and now were both personal trainers, so she felt my plight when it came to nights like this. I was throwing back wines like it was going out of style, which always seemed to be occurring on half-price wine Wednesdays, while listening to Stacy tell some of her racy and risqu?tories of conquest. Evidently, Stacy had taken to catering to the good-looking sector of our clientele, and had taken to seducing them. She noted how, “It only takes about 5 minutes of flirting or about 30 seconds of ‘accidental’ rubbing or touching for the little head to take over the big one.” God hearing her stories made me ache. It’d been years, since I’d felt anything more than a vibrator inside of me.