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Order this writing in the issue book Language of Untamed Spirit the cc&d Sept.-Dec.2017 collection book		get the 4 page May-August 2017 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

John Harding’s Mom

Matt Wunsch

    It is already blazing hot outside, oppressively humid and this hangover is too much for the bicycle so I am taking the moped to Charlie’s house to look in on his dog, Friday.
    The moped’s top speed is 33 mph, which is fine by me. Rolling by the Pier beach it is packed with the summer crowd in full Fourth of July madness. I bank a right into Charlie’s driveway and this sets off Friday into a fit of delirious barking. He will not shut the fuck up until I mix in a can of Mighty Dog with his dry kibble, take him for a walk and play a little fetch with him.
    I open the fridge to see if Charlie held up his end of the bargain. Presto! A case of Lowenbrau 7-ounce beers, 12 hamburger patties, a half pound of American cheese, a dozen bulkie rolls and a head of iceberg lettuce. This is my payment for a week of dog-sitting while he tears it up on Block Island. Plus, I get run of the house and all the half-smoked joints I can find in his bean-bag ashtray.
    On our way back from our walk, during which Friday relieves himself in 19 different locations, I see her: John Harding’s mom. She is bent over the lawnmower, wearing cutoff jeans, sneakers and a hot pink bikini top. Everyone in Charlie’s neighborhood wants to tear off a piece of John Harding’s mom. I walk by her nonchalantly and try not to stare at her absolute smoke-show of a body. She goes to the gym every day for aerobics and her tanned, lean body, covered in Hawaiian Tropic lotion, is stunning. Her shoulder length blonde hair is a tangled mess, which gives her an even sexier look.....
    John Harding’s mom is having problems with the lawnmower. She looks over at me and smiles. Friday somehow gets off his leash and rushes towards her, jumps, and nearly knocks her to the ground. Friday has a pink-on. Apparently John Harding’s mom has that effect on all animals.
    I walk over to retrieve the dog.
    “You’re Charlie’s friend, right?’
    “Yeah.”
    “Do you have a name?”
    “Oh, sorry, I’m Dean. You’re John’s mom, right?”
    “Yes, but you can call me Trudi. You go to school with John?”
    “Yeah, I just graduated, he’s a year younger than me.”
    “I see. Well, he’s up in Vermont visiting his dad and I’m left here to cut the lawn. I can’t seem to get this machine started,”
    “Oh, let me try.”
    John Harding’s mom is standing very close to me and I can smell the suntan oil smeared all over her delicious body. Her tits are nearly spilling out of her bikini top and her stomach muscles are ripped.
    I pull the crank on the mower. Nothing. I unscrew the gas cap and see that it’s bone dry.
    “You need gas. Do you have a container? I can go get you some.”
    “Why don’t you bring Friday into the house and we’ll take a ride together?”
    Suddenly I’m in John Harding’s mom’s sports car, a 1976 Triumph TR-6.
    She’s driving like a maniac on the way to the gas station. I pump the gas as she goes into the package store for smokes, a magnum of white zinfandel and a bag of ice. She dumps some ice into a large plastic cup and fills the rest with the wine. She knocks back half of the drink and hands me the rest.
    “I know you’re not 21 so don’t rat me out, Dean. Let’s go for a ride. The lawn will be there when we get back.”
    The way she says my name sets my mind reeling and my cock into motion.
    She wheels the car into the parking lot of the Neptune, a dive bar/tourist trap, the last of its kind from the Pier’s honky-tonk days.
    “Let’s shoot some pool.”
    She puts on a white cotton long sleeve shirt to cover up those immaculate tits and we walk into the bar, which is already packed.
    “What do you like, Dean?’
    “Gee, I don’t know, whatever you’re having!”
    She comes back from the bar with two shots of Jack Daniels and two Budweiser longnecks.
    John Harding’s mom is ready to fucking party!
    The pool room is empty, so we go in and I rack the balls.
    She proceeds to kick my ass all over the place, running the table with calm authority. After every shot that drops, she flicks the ash of her cigarette onto the carpet and looks me straight in the eye. She enjoys the humiliation she is inflicting upon me but then, with tenderness, she has mercy.
    “Let’s get out of here. Did Charlie leave you any pot?”
    “Yes he did. But you won’t be too psyched to cut the lawn once you try the shit he’s got.”
    “Well he bought it from me, so I’m not that worried about it.”
    We get back to Charlie’s house and John Harding’s mom pours more of the white zinfandel as I unroll a few long roaches and roll the resin-weed into a fat joint. We smoke half of it and now I am getting a little scared. She has taken off the shirt and the cutoffs and is walking around Charlie’s house in her pink bikini.
    “It’s HOT in here,” she says. “Let’s go for a swim at my place.”
    I had forgotten the Hardings have a swimming pool.
    We stroll over to her place, with its fenced in backyard and pool, which has just been cleaned.
    “I don’t think John would mind too much if you borrowed a pair of his trunks but you can swim in your underwear if you want.” This, is punctuated with a knowing laugh as she powers up the boom box with The Police, “Synchronicity.”
    The water is delightful, my buzz is perfect, Stuart Copeland’s drumming is exceptional and my courage is becoming enormous. I get the feeling I will be fucking John Harding’s mom today.
    This feeling turns into more than just a hunch as she gets out of the pool, dripping wet, lays face down on a chaise lounge and takes off her bikini top to reveal the most amazing female form I’ve seen. She’s twice my age but in dazzling shape.
    My courage is now through the roof, though it is tempered with a healthy dose of fear.
    “You need a little lotion on your back?”
    “I thought you’d never ask, Dean.”
    My hands are shaking as I pour the Hawaiian Tropic onto her back and start massaging it in.
    ‘You’re not scared, are you Dean?”
    “No, just very excited.”
    “Yeah, well I can tell....,that’s a little tough to hide. So.... here’s what we need to do. Let’s just unleash that tension right now.”
    In the blink of an eye, she sits up to reveal those perfect tits with small erect brown nipples and grabs the lotion from me. With a dazzling fluidity of motion she pulls down my soaking wet underwear, grabs hold of my balls and with her other hand covers my cock with the lotion. With five or six slow but glorious tugs, she has me where she wants me and I unleash a load of cum that lands in her hair, face, tits, and shoulders. She squeezes my balls to get the last drop out and then gives my pecker a friendly kiss.
    “I have some stuff to take care of,” she says, abruptly ending our date and diving back into the pool. “Why don’t you come back tonight for dinner?”
    Stunned by the afternoon’s events and a little relieved to be going, I grab my towel, finish the wine and head back to Charlie’s.
    Jen has called three times and left two messages on Charlie’s machine.
    They went from, ‘Hi honey, give me a call please” to “where the heck are you?” in the span of an hour.
    “A handjob is not cheating,” is what is going through my mind as I rinse off my horn with Charlie’s garden hose in the back yard.
    I’m grilling two burgers as Jen pulls up in her mom’s Subaru.
    “Sorry honey, I was cranking tunes when you called,” I say. More like getting my crank tuned, but, fuck Jen anyway, she’ll be buggering off to UNH in a couple months. This monogamy thing is not my style.
    She feels the power shift and doesn’t like it.
    “I just wanted to see you before I leave for the weekend,’ she says.
    “Oh? Where are you going?”
    “April and I are going to see the campus.”
    “On July fucking third?” I try to feign anger mixed with jealousy.
    “Yes, she has friends up there we are staying with. You’re welcome to tag along.”
    “That’s OK.” I want to add, “you smug fucking cunt.”
    “Do you need me to take care of you before I go?”
    Code language for a blowjob. Always a delicate one, Jen.
    “Sure!”
    My cock has barely had a 20-minute rest but it springs to life as Jen, who looks exactly like Dorothy from “The Wizard of Oz,” strips down naked and offers up her tight young pussy to me. I get her plump ass up in the air, bend her over the kitchen sink, and get my meat settled in. Slow strokes like the Tin Woodsman. The whole time I am thinking about John Harding’s mom.
    “Come inside me, baby. Shoot it in me!”
    Jen wants it to be over with, but I’m going to prolong it, thanks to my new friend with the perfect tits.
    I start slamming her with all my might and notice my pelvis is putting bruise marks on her ass. It must hurt but she won’t give me the pleasure of letting me know that for sure.
    “Come on baby, I’ll do anything you want.”
    To which I want to say: “Bullshit, you won’t let me fuck you in the ass.”
    Conjuring up images of John Harding’s mom, I drop a mid-sized load in Jen’s pussy. I couldn’t be more happy with the fact she’s on the pill.
    She turns frigid because she knows something is up. Jen is a seer. But she has no proof and I am starting to care less and less about my beautiful little high school sweetheart.
    We eat the burgers, drink a couple of beers and settle in for a nap.
    Two hours later I wake up and Jen is gone. She has left a note:
    “Bye sweetie! Behave yourself.”
    That’s not going to happen.

    Friday the shaggy dog needs another journey so I put on my bathing suit and head down to the beach. He’s not supposed to be there but it’s after five and Fourth of July weekend and the evening has become a free-for-all. I throw him the tennis ball until he’s exhausted and tie him off to a lifeguard chair so I can take a refreshing dip in the Atlantic. I am young, strong and happy.
    Back at Charlie’s I grill up two more burgers, one for me and one for Friday. He likes his medium rare with no bun.
    John Harding’s mom pulls into her driveway and Friday starts yapping his lungs out. He’s loud and relentless, sending out a mating call for me.
    She walks over, dressed to kill. A totally different look: white mini-skirt, red, white and blue striped v-neck shirt, tits at full attention, red shoes with stiletto heels, hair up in a bun, perfection. She is as close to a ten as I have ever seen.
    “You’re not ruining your appetite are you Dean?”
    “Oh no, not at all, I’m always hungry.”
    “I bet you are. Is Friday all set for the night? And can you put on something a little more dressy? I decided I don’t want to cook, we’re going out tonight.”
    Slight panic.... this will be twice in public with John Harding’s mom. This could be dangerous. She senses my fear and pounces on it.
    “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart, we’re leaving this town and going somewhere a little less familiar.”
    Later, freshly shaved, wearing a pair of Charlie’s linen blue pants and a brand new white t-shirt, I am a bit more relaxed.
    “You’re driving,” she says.
    We end up in Mystic at 41 Degrees North. We have killed a four-pack of Lowenbrau on the way there.
    Dinner is seafood bisque, shrimp cocktail, filet mignon with lobster tail and a bottle of Moet. I have 22 dollars to my name. She insists on paying and puts it on her American Express Gold Card.
    She has a few words with the bartender as we are leaving and he hands her a brown paper bag with two more bottles of Moet in it. She motions me over.
    “Dean, this is Hugo. He wants to buy us an after dinner drink. What would you like?”
    Hugo is a big motherfucker. 6'4" and jacked. I would not want to fight him.
    “Don’t worry, Hugo is gay!”
    They both start cracking up, laughing at my blushing face.
    “You’re not my type, Dean, I like older dudes,” Hugo says, handing me a Dewars on the rocks.
    After 10 minutes I’ve had about enough of their commiserating and excuse myself.
    “I’ll be outside, thanks for the drink Hugo.”
    John Harding’s mom has exactly five minutes to get herself out of the bar or I will be hitchhiking home. It’s not that far and there are plenty of cars on the road. This lady is hot but she’s not going to make a fool out of me.
    She comes outside, smiling and laughing, with the champagne and two flute glasses. She takes my hand and leads me towards a condo, right on the water.
    “We’re staying here tonight.”
    “Whose place is this?”
    “Hugo’s. He is heading to Newport after his shift and he insists we don’t drink and drive.”
    There’s mirrors everywhere at Hugo’s place. And dumbbells, lots of fucking dumbbells, 20 pounds, 30 pounds, 40 pounds, all the way up to 80 pounds. Hugo must work hard to attain that mass.
    There’s also a mirror on the kitchen counter that John Harding’s mom is wiping off with a paper towel. She unfolds a triangular-shaped packet and drops a mound of cocaine on the mirror.
    I have done coke once in my life, at an Elvis Costello concert. It didn’t seem to have any effect.
    This shit is different. It is yellowish in color and you can smell it from ten feet away. Jet fuel.
    We each snort two small lines and she starts pacing around the house, on a mission to find a bottle of Jose Cuervo. Finding it in the freezer, she pours us each a double shot.
    “You want training wheels?”
    “Huh?”
    “Lime and salt.”
    “Sure!”
    The coke has me absolutely jacked and totally horny.
    The tequila levels everything out.
    “Put some tunes on!”
    I find Hugo’s vinyl, boxes of it, inside the stereo console that is straight out of 1970, wooden cabinet and all.
    He has lots of Village People records. He also has Miles Davis “Live at the Village Vanguard,” which will be the perfect soundtrack for the rest of the evening.
    John Harding’s mom is ready to fuck.
    We lock horns in the kitchen.
    Her hands are all over me, her tongue is in my ear, she smells like tequila, lime, Anais Anais and sex.
    With her heels off, she is short. I pick her up and move her to the kitchen counter. I’m dying to get into that pussy but don’t want to get overly excited and blow a load in 45 seconds. She is tearing at Charlie’s brand new white t-shirt with her sharp nails. Fuck it, I’ll buy him another one. Her mouth is on my neck, flicking her tongue and striking nerves I never knew I had. Soon her shirt is off and my mouth is on her tits, which are firmer than my 18 year-old girlfriend’s. I start doing the math on how old this broad is....37? 39? 42? Whatever, she is an incredible piece of ass and as I reach for her pussy she jumps off the counter with feline quickness drops to her knees and gets my cock out. John Harding’s mom wraps her lips around the head of my cock and then slowly, delicately, works up and down the shaft. She is a pro. I notice how beautiful her skin is as her mouth slobbers spit on me. I’ve never been deep-throated until now. She is swallowing my cock and somehow manages to lap my balls with her tongue. An amazing effort. She gets up, whips off the miniskirt and black thong and takes total charge of the situation. Soon I’m on Hugo’s carpet on my back and John Harding’s mom is about to guide my cock into her tight, shaved pussy. Inch by inch she glides down on it and starts the motion. We get into a rhythm that matches Tony Williams’ drumming coming from the living room. Her tits bounce every which way and her lean stomach muscles are a thing to behold. I flip things around and start drilling her missionary-style as she wraps her thighs around me. Her fingernails are digging into my back, taking half my skin with them. I don’t give a shit about what kind of marks she’s going to leave. It’s just this moment.
    She leads me to the bathroom by the cock. I have a feeling about what’s coming next.
    “I want you to fuck me in the ass,” she says. “But first you have to say my name.”
    I draw a blank for a moment but then come up with it:
    “Trudi.”
    She finds an unopened jar of Vaseline and for this I am grateful.
    She takes two fingers-full and rubs it on my dick. I grab the jar and smear way too much of it on her ass. Stretching out over the tub in some kind of aerobics pose, she leads me into a long, luxurious anal session. She wants every inch, as far as it will go. I deliver the goods as she starts moaning, then panting, then screaming for more. Sweat is dripping off of me as I pound her amazingly pink asshole into submission.
    “Fill me up! Fill up my ass with your juice!”
    This sends me to the edge as an enormous wave of orgasm comes over me and my load pumps inside of her for what seems like five minutes.
    Showering, we soap each other up and kiss deeply, passionately.
    “So who was your little brunette friend who came by this afternoon? Is that your girlfriend?”
    “Uh, yeah.”
    Slight panic she’s going to do something crazy to Jen.
    “Oh don’t worry, I keep lots secrets. I’m just glad she took care of you today. Your endurance tonight was fabulous.”
    To this, she adds, “just keep your fucking mouth shut about today and maybe we can be special friends.”

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