How I Came to Do My Best Friend’s Mother
Anyway, early Friday morning I jumped in my car with my little overnight bag which contained a change of cloths and my swim gear. It only took about forty minutes or so to get to Bolger’s house and when I arrived I was greeted by Linda Bolger. Damn, she was looking good. Steve, c’mon, I’ve set up a room in the guest house next to the pool that you can use this weekend. I followed her through the front door of the house, through the house and out the back door. We were standing on this huge deck that went from one end of this humongous house to the other. I stopped to look out over this magnificent back yard. There were steps in the center of the deck which descended to the patio below. The patio also formed the deck around this enormous swimming pool (it was about 25 meters long….that’s 75 feet….and it was about half that wide. The patio-deck was made of this stone composition that Mrs. B said didn’t absorb heat so you couldn’t burn your feet. We walked around the pool and took a short walkway that led to this guest house which was about as big as the house my family lives in. Mrs. B took me inside and showed me my room and said that if I wanted to do some laps now would be a great time since Tom had to go into work unexpectedly and wouldn’t be back till supper time around 6 or so. Well, it was only 10 a.m. now and I really felt like a work out so I changed to my speedo, pulled on a pair of cut offs and a t shirt, grabbed a towel and headed back out to the pool. I tossed the towel on one of the lounges, dropped my cutoffs and walked over to the pool. Out of habit, I ran the toes of my right foot over the surface to check the temperature and it was perfect. I stretched a little and dove in. When I start swimming laps it’s as though I’m in a different world. In a 25 meter pool 70 laps or so equals a mile so I usually divide that between crawl , breast stroke and butterfly.
Click here! After that first mile, it depends on what I have coming up as to how much more I’ll swim. If I training for a competition I will do several sets before quitting. But, hey, this was a weekend, I figured I’d just see how I felt and take it from there. After I finished the 70 laps I felt pretty good, but the sun was warm and I thought I’d catch some rays and then maybe swim some more. So I got out, put on some sun screen and stretched out on the chaise to bake for awhile. You know how it is in the sun, after you have been cooking for awhile you enter the realm of the slightly dazed. I had my eyes closed and I suppose when I heard the splash of someone jumping in the pool I was, to say the least, disoriented. I opened my eyes and I saw Linda, sorry, Mrs. B moving easily across the pool, first free style and then upon her pivot, the back stroke, heading towards my end of the pool. I was mesmerized as I watched her lithe figure go from pool end to pool end. After about 15 minutes I guess, she decided she’d had enough and got out of the pool. My god, her tits were barely covered by the top of the bikini she was wearing…just enough to cover each erect nipple. The bottom half of the suit was quite small and the material thin enough that I could see her labia outlined by the material. She came over to where I was laying (I grabbed a towel as I felt myself become larger as she walked towards me). She pulled one of the other lounges closer to mine and draped a towel over the back and laid down. That feels so good Steve, doing a few laps and then letting the sun dry you off…how many did you do? I told her I did 70 and was thinking about doing some more if I could bring myself out of this trance long enough to jump in the pool. She sat up and brought her legs over to the side of her lounge chair and sat up, grabbing the towel I had draped over the area covered by my speedo and playfully snapped it at me as another guy might do in the shower room. Steve, you’ve matured quite a bit since the last time you stayed over at our house. I was trying to think when that might have been and it was probably a few years before. While Tom and I were close, our families were in different social strata so most of our contact was at school. I’m not sure what you mean, Mrs. B? Hey, quit the Mrs. B stuff, you’re a college man now, how about calling me Linda? Okay, sure, er, Linda. For the next half hour or so we chatted about school, about where I was going, where Tom was going and how the new house was to get used to.