Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Don't Be Mad At Me

I’m sorry to announce that The Professor will not be featured in February as planned. I thought I would be able to start posting it around Valentine’s Day, but that time frame is simply not going to work out.


The answer is simply because of the increasing demands of my dual career. As many of you know, I don’t just write for a living. I am also an accountant. Matter of fact, I run a small tax accounting service.

With it being tax time in the U.S. and with my clientele growing (Praise God for that), my accounting schedule is now at odds with my writing schedule. Combine that with the tutoring I do on the side, church activities I plan to participate in this quarter, marketing efforts on current book releases, and general family stuff, I had no choice but to push The Professor’s debut to April. April 13th, in fact. Especially since my writing career is way more flexible than my accounting career (not so many rigid deadlines and associated penalties).

For those who’ve joined me for a live story before, you know how time consuming it can be, how often I post (6 days a week), how diligent I am about responding to reader comments, and how I like to add even more value to the story by linking to music, photos, and other items of interest. Because I don’t want reduce the quality our online experience by changing any of these things, I have made the hard decision to push The Professor back a few months.

To appease any disgruntled and/or disappointed souls, I have also decided to post monthly short stories between now and April on my Short Stories blog. They don’t take long to write and don’t require a lot of research and plotting.

Does that make you feel better?

I hope so. lol.

Talk to you soon…


Monday, January 12, 2009

Full Preview Is Over!

Thanks for visiting my new site. I hope you enjoyed the full preview of M.I.L.F. in celebration of this new blog launching.

For those who didn’t/couldn’t participate in the preview during this special weekend, you missed another good one. But don’t despair. I left Chapters 1-3 of M.I.L.F. up for your perusal. Plus, the cost of reading the whole thing is very minimal considering the short length of the story. You can find M.I.L.F in its entirety at the following link:

Thanks again for visiting this new site of mine.


Friday, January 9, 2009

M.I.L.F. - Chapter 3


Tiger was the first person I thought to call when the police came to the house to tell me that Clef had been shot at a local teen club that he regularly DJ’d at. I didn’t call my mother or any of my siblings. I didn’t even call Minton, the guy I was currently dating.

I called Tiger. Perhaps I thought of him because his grandfather had come outside to investigate why the police was at my house and he had on one of Tiger’s old high school jerseys.

Who knows?

What I do know is that I felt so much better the moment I heard Tiger’s deep, comforting voice come on the line. When he mentioned that he was going to take an hour flight instead of driving those two and a half hours back home, I just knew everything was somehow going to be all right.

Everything was all right.

Clef had been shot in the stomach and though the surgery to repair his intestines had been nerve-wrecking for us and long for him, my son was going to survive. I sagged against Tiger’s strong frame with relief when the doctor came out to tell us the news.

Having come straight from the airport, Tiger had been there with me through most of the long ordeal. Even before he arrived in Augusta, he’d been constantly on the phone with me, keeping me calm.

Granddad was another rock of strength. He’d driven me to the hospital when I was too shaken to drive myself. He’d also hugged me continuously in comfort in the waiting room until Tiger came and took over that task. The doctor actually thought Tiger was my husband by the tender way he held me in his arms.

I quickly cleared that up though. “Tiger’s not my husband, doctor. He’s a dear family friend.”

I couldn’t help but notice how Tiger stiffened when I said that. But I had only spoken the truth. He wasn’t my husband. He wasn’t even my boyfriend.

Matter of fact, I had no boyfriend. I didn’t even consider Minton my boyfriend. We’d barely shared five kisses over the month that we’d gone out and there was no real fire between us. I kept him around more or less for good companionship.

After we were allowed to see Clef, I asked the doctor if it was okay for me to stay the night. He suggested that I go home and get some rest instead. It had been a long night for all of us and I could only imagine how horrid I looked.

I hadn’t even combed my hair before I left home. When the police delivered that terrible news, I just grabbed my purse and ran out the house. The pink short set I’d been about to wear to bed now seemed inappropriate for a hospital setting.

Maybe that’s why the doctor really wanted me to leave. Maybe he was trying to protect the heart patients in the hospital from my shocking attire. Why else would the doctor’s eyes be roaming so disapprovingly over my frame now?

“I’ll drive you,” Tiger volunteered, moving to stand in front of me, blocking the doctor’s view completely. I could see his nostrils flaring in anger.

Had he known how self-conscious I’d suddenly become? I wouldn’t be surprised. Tiger always seemed to know my moods. I was comforted by the fact that he was angry on my behalf concerning the doctor’s disapproving glance.

“Did you ride with Granddad or did you drive yourself?” Tiger continued, dragging my attention fully to him.

“Granddad drove my car,” I replied, grateful that he’d gotten me to focus on what was most important at this moment, which was going home to rest.

On the way home, I stayed quiet. The closer we got to our street, the more the realization of what happened tonight started to sink in.

I almost lost my only child tonight!

That shook me to my core. Hard!

I could feel the trembling start in my body even before I exited the vehicle. Granddad noticed it, too. He’d been sitting directly behind me in the car and must have seen the deep shudder that rocked my body in the passenger seat.

“Bettina, I think you should sleep over at our house tonight. You don’t need to be alone right now,” Granddad said.

“No, I’ll be fine in my own h…house,” I stammered out. “Be…besides, the hospital doesn’t have your number if something changes with Clef.” I could feel my bottom lip quivering. My eyes welling up with tears.

“I’ll stay with her, Granddad,” Tiger volunteered as he came around to the passenger side of the car. “I have changing clothes and everything.” He lifted the black tote bag in his right hand with emphasis.

I honestly didn’t have the strength to refuse Tiger. And when his comforting arm went about my shoulders seconds later, I knew I wouldn’t refuse him. I needed Tiger tonight. I needed that strength that just seemed to come naturally to him.

After saying goodnight to Granddad, Tiger led me inside of my home. Once the door was closed, he dropped the bag and held me with both arms until all the shaking and tears stopped. I’d never been more grateful to and for someone in my life.

“Thanks for being here, Tiger,” I said, feeling much calmer now and so relieved that Clef was going to be all right.

“Where else would I be when you and our boy need me?” he replied.

New tears glistened in my eyes at those words. Tiger had sounded more fatherly than big brotherly just then.

That’s when I knew how much he really loved Clef. How much he really loved me.

At that point, I could care less how old Tiger was. He was more of a man at twenty-two than 90% of the men I’d known in my entire life. In fact, I couldn’t wait to call Minton and tell him never to call me again because I’d finally found a real man.

Moving back into Tiger’s embrace, I sent my arms up to his strong neck. My lips, I sent to his. I knew he wouldn’t refuse me. I knew Tiger wanted me just as much as I wanted him. Probably even more since he’d been lusting after me for way more years than I had him.

My lust for Tiger started the year he turned nineteen. It has grown tenfold each year since then.

As expected, my tongue was welcomed immediately into his warm mouth. Tiger suckled it gently and then slightly harder as his arms went about my waist. I could feel his hardness against my belly.

I moaned, knowing that I had excited him just that fast.

Tiger moaned, too. His large hands went down to my bottom and squeezed me closer. I loved the feel of his long fingers clenching and kneading me.

Tiger’s hands didn’t stay at my bottom for very long. He seemed anxious to touch all of me and so removed my clothes within a few short minutes. I still don’t know how he managed to remove my shorts and thong. I don’t ever remember stepping out of them or my shoes.

All I remember are his kisses. They were all consuming. Devouring. Mind emptying. Guaranteed to leave a woman lightheaded.

Bending to my right breast, Tiger engulfed the rigid tip with his lips. One of his hands went below and played tic-tac-toe in my triangle. The other hand returned to my bottom for a firm squeeze.

I arched towards him, urging him on. My breath came in short bursts. My knees grew weak as Tiger continued to suckle and tantalize me with expertise I didn’t know he had.

Where had this boy learned how to do all this? When?


This was no boy. Tiger was a man. A full grown man, judging by the size of that bulge in his pants.

Lifting me up, Tiger carried me the short distance to the couch. He sat down with me in his lap with my back facing his chest. His lips soon returned to my breast, this time the left one. His right hand cupped the other breast while his left hand went below again.

I felt that similar buildup occurring. Would I be disappointed again? Would Tiger build me up only to let me down like all the others?

That night in the kitchen had held such promise. I thought for sure it would happen then. But we’d been interrupted and I had never gotten to that peak I so desired to reach.

Before I could ponder that thought further something exploded within me. My body began to tremble for a whole nother reason now. My toes curled, gripping the rug below as I had my very first orgasm.

I just knew surprise was all over my face. I could feel my eyes widen with amazement in their sockets. A scream of ecstasy tore from my lips.

Finally I had made it to the mountaintop. The view from up there was so wonderful. Euphoric even. I never wanted to come down.

The word frigid and me didn’t even belong in the same sentence anymore. I wasn’t frigid. I was free! Tiger helped to make it so. I wasn’t even tired anymore.

My scream didn’t stop Tiger one iota. Nor did it cause him to speed up. He continued to slowly prime me like a water pump. It was like he knew how bad I needed this and wanted me to enjoy even drop of that orgasm. I did.

When I could see straight again, I started to thrust against his hand. Erotic words began to pour from my lips like water from a faucet. I said things I’d only read about in steamy romance novels or heard on adult versions of songs I restricted Clef from listening to.

And yet I meant every single word I said. I did want to do all those naughty things to Tiger. I wanted him to do all those naughty things to me. Over and over again.

To my amazement, Tiger talked back just as erotically to me. He inflamed my ears with things he fully intended to do to my body. Tonight. Things he’d wanted to do to me for years.

I was sold on everything he said. Had he been selling a used car, I would have bought it right then and there. Without even taking a test drive.

“Come on with it,” I urged, turning my lips to his again for a long kiss.

© 2007 by Mi’Chelle Dodson

M.I.L.F. - Chapter 2


I’ve been in love with Bettina since forever. Or so it seems to me. The truth of the matter is that I fell in love with her at the age of thirteen. The moment I laid eyes on Bettina, I knew she was the one.

Yeah, I know she is eight years older than me. She goes out of her way to subtly remind me of that every chance she gets. Plus, I’m an accounting major, which means I can count very well. Too well at times.

For instance, I have counted three different serious boyfriends Bettina has had over the years that I’ve known her. I counted the number of dates she’d had with them and the casual dudes in between.

I even counted the number of times she kissed a man goodnight at her front door. Forty to be exact. Zero is the number of times any of them ever stayed the night. Bettina didn’t play that overnight thing out of respect for her son. I liked that about her. Especially since some of those nights I slept over as a guest of Clef’s.

I honestly don’t know what I would have done had I heard Bettina moaning in passion from her bedroom. And with another dude? It was a good thing I never had to find out. Seeing her kiss those guys was just about all I could take.

Okay, by now you’re probably thinking I’m obsessing over this woman. In a way, yes. In another way, no.

Yes, I have kept a watchful eye on Bettina over the years, but not to the point of forsaking key adventures in my own life. I lost my virginity at fifteen, dated more girls than I could count in high school, led my school’s football team to the regionals and graduated with honors.

At Morehouse College, I excelled in my studies, dated even more women in the Atlanta area and come next month, I’ll be graduating again. Also with honors.

Hey, my grandfather taught me early in life that if I’m going to do anything, I might as well do it right. Which brings me to why I deliberately accumulated so much experience with women.

You see, because of the age differences between Bettina and me, I wanted to make sure I could hold my own in the sex department when the time came for me to finally have her. I knew I could hold my own in every other area.

Intellectually, I’ve been on the same page with adults twice my age for years. Can speak on any given subject with clarity and oftentimes with authority since I’m so well-read.

Not to brag, but I’m one smart dude. I could have finished high school and college two years earlier than scheduled, but my grandfather insisted that I pace myself and enjoy all the extra activities school had to offer. He wanted me to get the most out of those youthful years since I would have the rest of my life to be grown and serious.

I followed Granddad’s advice and I’m so glad I did. Those carefree years of peer-to-peer socialization made me the well-rounded brother that I am today. I will always be grateful for those experiences.

Financially, I have some things in motion right now that are going to enable me to finally move Granddad into a better neighborhood and also support the wife I want. Need I even mention her name again? In case you weren’t paying attention before, it’s Bettina.

Financial stability will enable me to make sure that Bettina doesn’t have to work at a job she hates ever again. That Clef, who I have thoroughly enjoyed mentoring over the years, will be able to go to college after all. Bettina definitely can’t afford to send him on her salary and Clef’s grades aren’t high enough nor is he athletically inclined enough for scholarships.

Worse, nobody even knows where his father is right now. The last time Bettina saw Clef’s father was during an annual Christmas shopping trip at an Atlanta mall. Clef was five years old at the time and her grandmother was still alive. Clef’s father looked at them, scowled at Bettina and her grandmother, and walked right past them without saying a word.

Bettina told me that story out of her own mouth. It was right after I’d asked her whether she still had any contact with Clef’s father since I had never seen him visit them. Knowing that Clef was unwanted by his father made me really take him under my wing.

Now I just hope Clef stays out of trouble until after I graduate. He was starting to hang with the wrong crowd the last time I was home. Though I talked to him about keeping his nose clean and not causing his mother any undue worry, Clef is one of those people that will do good as long as he has someone pushing him. He’s not a self-motivator at all.

Although Bettina does the best she can to motivate him, Clef rejects her words simply because she’s his mother. At seventeen, only the words of his peers seem to matter. Been there, done that. Although I don’t remember ever being quite that rebellious as a teenager.

Maybe I stayed in line because Granddad was more of a disciplinarian than Bettina. I only remember her spanking Clef once since I’ve known them. He deserved it, too, for letting somebody boost him up to steal candy from the corner store.

Afterwards I found Bettina crying on the back porch in the dark. I held her that night for the first time. I didn’t say anything. I really didn’t know what to say, so I just held her, wishing I could do more to ease her pain.

The next day, I asked Granddad if Clef could start helping us cut grass on the weekends. That way he’d have money in his pocket to buy all the candy he wanted since his mother didn’t always have extra funds for treats.

Granddad agreed, talked to Bettina about the idea, and soon ten-year-old Clef had a part-time job. He’s been working for our small lawn care service ever since. In fact, Clef has been holding the business together since I left, especially with Granddad getting up in age.

Which brings me to yet another reason I can’t wait to graduate and go back home. I want to be there to help Clef hold himself together now. He listens to me…most of the time. With me around, he stands a better chance of staying on the straight and narrow.

I hate that I haven’t been around a lot since I went off to college. Except for a few weekends here and there, some birthdays and holidays, I have really only been staying in touch with Clef by telephone. Even my summers have been filled with internships. Those internships were pivotal to my future as a CPA and to my future with Bettina.

At this point, you’re probably wondering how a smart guy like me could plan a whole future around a woman that might not even share his feelings. Well, I’m here to tell you that Bettina does share my feelings. She just fights them because of our age differences. That was a truth I discovered on my nineteenth birthday.

That night, Granddad decided to throw me a party. I was home for the weekend and it was summertime, which meant most of my old high school friends were home, too, and available to come. They did in droves. The whole downstairs of the house was packed.

Granddad enlisted the help of Bettina and Clef for my party. Like me, he considered them part of our extended family. They were certainly closer to us than our real family who never visited and could never be relied upon to lend a helping hand in times of need.

Matter of fact, when both of my parents died in a car accident, the only one in the family that would take responsibility for me was my one-legged, widowed grandfather. Nobody else wanted me. That still hurts a brother to this day. On a positive side, it definitely made me more understanding of Clef and Bettina’s plight.

Anyway, Clef, who loved music, was the DJ the night of my party. Bettina catered the food. Did I mention she was a great cook? If not, it is certainly worth mentioning now.

Cooking is just one of Bettina’s many talents. I always tell her that she should be a chef or a caterer because she can really throw down in the kitchen. In response, Bettina always gets this dreamy look in her eyes. Then that look quickly vanishes and she insists that she still has too much financial responsibility to go back to school for anything. When we get married, I’m going to see what I can do to make that culinary dream come true for her.

In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy the various dishes Bettina prepares and brings over for Granddad and me. The fact that she has not hesitated to share her culinary talent with us over the years only makes me love her more.

When Bettina moved across the street from us, that’s when I learned what real food tasted like. Before her arrival, I only ate fast food and whatever came out of a can or a box.


Because Granddad could not cook to save his life. Still can’t.

I often wondered if he thought he was still in the army, because the things Granddad bought for our pantry reminded me so much of military rations. Everything was of the MRE (Meal, Ready-to-Eat) ration class.

Anyway, the night of my nineteenth birthday party, the food started to run low. More people than expected had come and Bettina wasn’t sure if there would be enough to last for the duration of the night.

To solve the food shortage problem, she volunteered to give up the extra trays of appetizers she had prepared for her and Clef at home. Plus a few cases of soda she had at the house.

Okay, let me stop at this point and reiterate how much I love this woman. Who wouldn’t love such a generous and selfless person?

Well, being the gentleman that I am, I offered to help Bettina bring the extra food stuff over. She looked hesitant at first, citing the fact that I shouldn’t leave my own party to act as errand boy. It didn’t dawn on me then that she was probably afraid to be alone with me due to her rising attraction to me.

“Clef can’t leave the turntable right now,” I reminded her. “And I’m sure I can carry more than Granddad with all these muscles,” I teased, flexing a few of those muscles as a way to subtly show off the physique I’d conditioned since age fourteen.

It was at that moment that I saw something akin to desire spark in Bettina’s eyes for the first time. The hitching of her breath as she looked at my bulging biceps and her husky sounding “Okay” of consent a few seconds later both confirmed an undeniable truth. Bettina wanted me!

I had finally gotten to her. Finally a door of opportunity had been opened to me.

Determined to make the most of that opportunity, I played it low-key all the way to Bettina’s house. We chatted about school, her secretarial job, which she still hated but needed in order to finish paying off her house. We also talked about whether or not we thought Clef would actually pursue a career in music.

The whole time we talked, I tried very hard not to stare at her sexy body in the tight mini-skirt and matching blue t-shirt she wore. Even today, I can still remember how it hugged her curves. How I could even make out the designs on her lacy underwear. Estimate the circumference of her breasts, the weight of those bouncing cheeks as she walked a few steps in front of me.

Since I gave up cursing a long time ago for a better vocabulary, I’m not going to say what I really want to say right now. But know this, that woman had me hotter than fire and harder than a rock that night!

Ever since I can remember Bettina has dressed sexy. Even her work clothes were sexy, though slightly looser and much longer for professional purposes.

Clef used to complain about how he wished his mother dressed in baggy sweats and shapeless dresses like other mothers, but I personally never saw anything wrong with Bettina’s attire. She was still young and sexy. Why not show off the figure she carefully maintained at the free gym next to her job?

In the kitchen, I maintained the same casual tone with Bettina. But I made sure to stay very close to her. I wanted her to get used to having me near.

I also tried to draw as much attention as I could to myself since it was now clear that Bettina liked my physical attributes and was starting to see me as a man, not a child. Shoot, one of the reasons I worked out so much was to make sure she saw me in a different light.

“I really like the mustache and beard trimmer you got me,” I told Bettina as she pulled another tray from her fridge and passed it to me. “Thanks a lot.”

Bettina paused, turned halfway and looked at my mouth area. “You’re welcome. I see you’ve been using it already.”

“I had to,” I said, using my free hand to trace my goatee, which was looking particularly neat tonight as a result of her gift. “I had to look good for my birthday. What would the ladies think if I didn’t?”

Bettina’s breath did that hitching thing again. She got this funny look in her eyes and snatched her gaze away as if she didn’t trust herself to look at me for too long.

I smiled, knowing that I was getting to her even more. She couldn’t hide her feelings that well tonight for some reason. Perhaps it was because we were truly alone for the first time and she couldn’t hide behind a role – mother role or friendly neighbor role.

“I’m sure the ladies at your party would find you handsome whether you shaved or not, Tiger. It’s your personality that makes you so special. It’s why the people in this neighborhood have labeled you a golden child,” Bettina said, reaching in for yet another tray.

“Thanks,” I replied as my body twitched with need. That was the first compliment she’d paid me as a grown man. I was thrown off guard for a second.

Needing some time to regroup, I put the trays I held down on the table and moved towards the sink for a cup of water. I needed to calm down quick, lest she see the effect her words had had on me, despite my baggy jeans.

Man, that woman could excite me faster than a speeding bullet. I often felt like a man of steel around her, which is why I always wore baggy pants in her presence. I never knew when I had to hide a bulge.

Familiar with the layout of Bettina’s kitchen from my days as a frequent visitor to her house, I went straight to the cups reserved for family. The glasses were for guests. I hadn’t been considered a guest in this house in a long time.

I found it hard to calm down no matter how much water I drank as Bettina bestowed yet another compliment upon me a few seconds later. I started to wonder if maybe she was trying to turn me on with all these compliments.

“You know, Tiger, you’re going to make some young lady a good husband one day,” she said, moving to put the tray in her hand on the table.

“I plan on being a great husband,” I replied, pouring the rest of the water down the drain and placing the used cup in the sink. I turned around and leaned against the counter. My body temperature shot up a few more degrees as my eyes zoomed in on her juicy rear end.

Bootylicious is the first word that came to my mind. And I’m not talking about a Destiny’s Child song either.

Bettina chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, unable to keep the extra bass out of my voice. My voice always got extra deep and husky when I was really turned on. Which I most definitely was at that moment.

“You. Or rather that touch of arrogance you have. You’ve always been a bit too sure of yourself even as a child. Mannish is what my grandma called boys like you. To this day, you’re the only teenager in the whole neighborhood to stubbornly call me Tina instead of Miss Tina like the rest of your peers.” As she spoke, her hands removed the clear wrap and rearranged some of the appetizers on the tray.

“Is that a bad thing?” I came closer, now standing directly behind her.

At 6’1, I liked how I towered over Bettina’s 5’7 frame. That wasn’t always the case over the years. I used to hate having to look up at her because it really made me feel like a child in her eyes.

Bettina’s breath hitched again and I just knew it was because of my nearness. “It all depends on if a person likes that kind of thing,” she replied.

“Do you like men with a touch of arrogance?” I whispered only inches from her ear. Leaning in and around her, I retrieved an appetizer from the tray. As I did, I allowed my arousal to brush up against her bottom ever so slightly.

“Yes,” Bettina moaned in response.

I kid you not, she actually moaned out her answer.

Recognizing that she may have responded instinctively just then, I waited a few seconds for the slap of realization to come. The scolding. Neither of them came.

Encouraged by that, I moved closer still, hoping I would get the green light to go further. I was now firmly up against Bettina’s soft bottom. As I brought the cheese and sausage laden toothpick to my mouth, I heard her moan again.

Again no slap or scolding came. She continued to look forward, except she was no longer arranging food. Now she was gripping the sides of the table with her eyes closed, enjoying this moment just as much as I was.

“Mmm…this is good,” I said, giving my words double meaning as I chewed the food in my mouth and boldly grinded against her bottom at the same time.

Bettina’s eyes flew open. She looked back over her shoulder at me.

Did I see anger?




I saw…deep passion. For me!

Quickly swallowing the food in my mouth, I captured her lips in a deep kiss that had been only in my dreams until that moment. Dropping the toothpick on the floor, my hands simultaneously moved above and below on her body. One hand cupped a plump breast. The other lifted her skirt in the back.

I had to touch those juicy mounds that had been tormenting me for years with their can’t-touch-this bounce. They were just as soft as I imagined. Smooth and cellulite free, too, because you know a brother’s hand was all over that landscape.

As I suckled Bettina’s tongue, I pressed myself between her supple cheeks, which were now exposed due to the black lacy thong she wore. I reached around and touched the front of that thong, anxious to see if she was a shaver, waxer, or naturalist.

I got my answer quickly.

Bettina was a waxer with a naturalist’s heart. Meaning, she wasn’t trying to be a porn star and she wasn’t trying to live in the jungle either. Everything was in balance. I had never encountered a yard trimmed quite so well before.

On top of that, I could literally feel Bettina heartbeat pulsating in her nether regions. It was fast and erratic like mine. I was beyond excited now.

Words has ceased between us at this point. I was glad because I feared too much conversation would ruin the mood. I didn’t want Bettina’s mind trying to think of any words to say. I just wanted her to feel. Feel me. Feel us doing something we both wanted.

Bettina seemed to agree with this no-talking rule. In fact, I think she said everything that needed to be said in that lusty grind of hers that had a brother wishing he’d thought to bring over some condoms with him.

Since I didn’t have any protection on me, I contented myself with the kissing, the touching and the grinding against her. The next move had to be on Bettina. I’d waited on her all this time. I could wait on her a little longer to get hot enough to suggest that we take this to her bedroom where I knew she had protection.

Yes, I knew about Bettina’s nightstand condom supply. I learned that little tidbit from her snooping son, who’d needed some protection the night he lost his own virginity and went looking in her room for it.

Suddenly I heard the front door open in the distance.

“What’s taking y’all so long with the food and drinks?” a voice said. It was Clef.

After abruptly breaking apart, I never got another chance to be alone with Bettina that night or any other night since. She wouldn’t allow it under any circumstance.

That might have discouraged me if not for the heated looks she would send my way when she thought I wasn’t looking. Looks that I’ve treasure in my heart for the last three years as I finished college.

Unfortunately, when I finally got to be alone with Bettina again, it was the night that tragedy struck our lives.

© 2007 by Mi’Chelle Dodson

M.I.L.F. - Chapter 1


I met Tiger when I was twenty-one. He was only thirteen at the time; the same age I was when I had my first child – Wyclef, ‘Clef’ for short.

Tiger, which is actually his real name, by the way, was always mature for his age. He seemed to have more sense than the rest of his peers, was studious, focused, and already knew what he wanted to do with his life at a young age. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to have him befriend my son.

Clef was eight at the time, a bit of a wild child like his father, and in terrible need of a positive male role model. I didn’t care if that role model came in the form of a big brother figure or a father figure. I just wanted my son to have living proof that all men weren’t dogs like his good-for-nothing daddy.

After impregnating me the night I lost my virginity, Clef’s father pretty much didn’t want anything else to do with me. He was only three years older than me and had no intentions of being tied down so young. Nor was he keen on assuming the responsibility of a child.

All fine and well, except for the fact that I was just a kid, too. At least he got to make it to high school. With me just being in middle school, I had no way to take care of myself, much less a baby.

My mother, who was a single parent, too, wanted me to have an abortion. After all, she had three other kids to take care of. When I flat out refused to abort my child, she sent me from Atlanta to live with my grandmother in Augusta. I lived there with my son until Grandma died.

Fortunately, Grandma insisted that I get my high school diploma and take a few secretarial courses at night while I stayed with her, so I was able to take care of my son before and after she passed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t take care of Clef quite as good as before.

Gone was Grandma’s financial contribution to the household. I now had to foot all the bills on my own. Gone was my anytime babysitter. I now had the added expense of daycare and babysitting fees. Thankfully I still had Grandma’s reliable blue sedan and so I had no transportation issues.

Sadly, I eventually had to move out of Grandma’s house. She’d only been a renter all these years and did not own the property. When the landlord wanted to raise the rent, I either had to pay the new rate or leave. I left. I couldn’t afford the rent increase. I was struggling enough as it was trying to make the old rent.

I knew I couldn’t go back to my mother’s house, so I found a place of my own right there in Augusta. That small two-bedroom house might not have looked like much at the time, but it was home to me. I couldn’t wait to fix it up.

Unlike Grandma, I was renting to own, which meant the house would be mine if I kept up the payments. Plus, whatever I did it would add value to the property in the long run. The fact that the house was right across the street from Tiger and his grandfather was an added bonus. They were the best neighbors a person could ever hope for.

I sensed Tiger’s crush on me from the start. I figured it was either that or he was even shyer than I was. The boy literally gawked and sputtered out a greeting when his grandfather brought him over to welcome me and Clef into the neighborhood.

I realized it was a bonafide crush when Tiger gave me a red rose the very next day, right before he invited Clef over for a game of kickball. I thought his crush cute. I thought the bold teenager cute, too, but that was as far as it went. I was a grown woman with morals and so I didn’t dare look upon Tiger in that way. Plus, I had learned the hard way how unfair it was to rob someone of their childhood by exposing them to adult situations too soon.

My childhood stopped the instant I learned I was pregnant. I knew I could never get it back. I wasn’t about to try to get it back or catch a pedophile case by dealing with a younger man.

Younger man?

Scratch that. Tiger was a boy.

I made sure to remind myself and him of that every time Tiger did something nice for me, which was often. The cards and flowers on Valentine’s and Mother’s Day, birthday and Christmas gifts, and all the free lawn care were just a few of the things he’d done for me over the last nine years.

Even though Tiger is a grown man now at twenty-two and looks like the handsome actor Pooch Hall’s identical twin brother, I still make sure to remind him of our age differences just in case he ever gets up the nerve to formally proposition me. Thankfully Tiger hasn’t done so thus far, but we did have a close call once on his nineteenth birthday. A very close call.

Fortunately, we were able to avoid getting too far into trouble that night due to my son’s intervention. Even still, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if Clef hadn’t come home at that exact moment.

Would I have finally had my first orgasm that night?

Having lost my virginity at thirteen, I didn’t know much about orgasms or anything else at the time. My first sexual experience was painful, which led to more pain nine months later. I didn’t try again until I was eighteen, and even then, I don’t remember climaxing.

Even now at age thirty, I can’t recall a single time that I actually had an orgasm. I would always get real close, only to be let down when the guy finished first or simply grew tired of trying to help me reach some insurmountable peak I never could quite get to for some reason.

What does that say about the guys I’ve been with up until now? What does that say about me? Sometimes I wonder if I’m frigid. That would explain why my sex life stays on the inactive list, even though men are always propositioning me.

© 2007 by Mi’Chelle Dodson

You Found Me - Yay!

In order to hit the ground running on this blog and to reward you for following me to this new site, I've decided to post a story that I used as a Christmas giveaway once upon a time. A story that I will now run for FREE, but only for this weekend. After Sunday, most of it will be taken off and the whole thing will be for sale again.

What is this story you ask?

M.I.L.F.: It is from my secular line. The initials stand for Mother I'd Like to Fall in love with. It deals with how important it is for the more mature person in a relationship to keep things platonic until both parties are of legal age.

The heat level is 8/10. Okay, maybe closer to a 9. lol. I'll let you be the judge of that.

Anyway, I hope you like it. I'll be back shortly with the story.