M.I.L.F. - Chapter 2

Tiger

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.

Why?

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?

No.

Disgust?

No.

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