RSS Feed

Tag Archives: single mums

That’s life

Posted on

It seems like every second cream brick-veneer in our neighbourhood houses a single-parent family. Single parent means a woman alone with kids. I don’t say single mothers, because as well as us unmarried mums there are divorced, separated, widowed ones and some who can’t quite figure out their marital status.

It’s a kids’ town, where life is ruled by the needs of our kids. Playgrounds, family entertainment and child health are the big topics of interest. School and kindy set the daily routine and the calendar, with each year marked by sports seasons, school breakup and christmas. A mum’s life revolves around shopping, cooking, laundry and getting children off to school.

And there’s romance – on the telly, in books, and maybe even in real life. You see, our only assets are ourselves and if we can make a good match, do a good deal, we sure will.

When I moved to this street, Alison took me under her wing and explained how we single parents survive. There’s a network of those mums who want to be part of it. The way she tells it, all the girls dream of meeting Mr Right. Maybe he’ll put a contact ad in the Sun, maybe friends will introduce you, maybe you just meet him in a shop. Mr Right being anyone with a steady job and no ties who you can get to make a commitment. The idea is that you please him so much that in his rosy cloud of arousal he takes to your family as well.

Only it never works out like that. You may find yourself doing the most outrageous things for that guy – and even enjoying them!

Posted on

I’ve got a new gravatar – I’m not trying to be rude by turning my back, but was just reminded that it mightn’t be safe to publish my face or anything that could identify my family. So for the public, I’m just a lady living somewhere in Australia. If you become my friend you might find out more.

Outer suburban romance

Posted on

She turned to face him, in front of the kitchen sink. The simple white T-shirt over her track pants made her bosom seem even bigger; well, she had put on her sports bra to make the most of it. Without prompting, Darryl remarked “I really liked that curry, thank you, Joy.”

She smiled cheekily, “What with all the time I spent cooking, if you hadn’t said that you might have ended up wearing it!” Then they were both laughing, and hugging each other round the waist. Paul came up and put his arms round his mum and the stranger. “Okay, lets make it a group hug.”

Joy finally got her son to his bed, letting him leave his light on for a while. She had left Darryl in the living room while she quickly changed for bed.

“He’ll drop off to sleep soon,” she said, returning to cuddle closer on the sofa. He soon turned his attention to her, kissing and chatting with his back to the television. She remarked on his new tracksuit, clothing enough on this warm spring night.

When Paul was at last asleep, they tiptoed to her room. “Shh, we don’t want Bugalugs coming in to see what we’re doing,” Joy said as she closed the door. Darryl pressed her hand in reply as she led him to her bed. “Oh, I didn’t mean we can’t talk quietly,” she whispered, “like this.”

She shed her gown and stood by the window in a short nightie that bared her broad smooth thighs to his appreciative caresses. After another kiss, Darryl paused to get out of his tracksuit, like an athlete ready for action.

“You drove up here like that?” she almost laughed aloud, rolling her eyes. He was naked except for a jockstrap.

“Yes, dear.” She did laugh, muffledly, at the way he said that word and his embarrassment at her question. Then they lay on the bed and abandoned themselves to slow luxurious cuddles. At first Joy’s avidity almost unnerved her less-experienced lover, for her frank interest in his body and the response of her own sometimes seemed to leave no room for himself. She would stare fascinated at anywhere but his face, or close her eyes to concentrate on a specific area of touch. Darryl tried to keep calm, but was getting aroused. They both were. He knelt astride her plump body and bent his head to kiss her mouth. When he made to straighten her nightie which had ridden up her hips, she mistook his intention and, with a sigh of resignation lifted it up. He helped her lift it over her head, and dropped it on the other side of the bed.

“Now I’ve gotta turn the light off, pet. You don’t mind?” She was suddenly selfconscious of her size and the stretchmarks on her tummy.

“Of course not, it’s more private.” Darryl’s athletic support held the only things he was still a little embarrassed to let a woman see. Now his hands explored her shoulders, down to her waist, back up to her breasts; his legs embraced hers, he was intensely aware of her body in the darkness. Her size excited him, she was a generous double armful of soft, talcum-scented young mother. “I’m not putting too much weight on you, am I?”

“No, you’re fine.” Joy said nothing when he let his hardening penis out of its elastic pouch and it rested on her bare belly. They both knew there was a condom ready on her bedside shelf. His hands returned to her breasts where they stayed tracing the convex curves while not yet daring to trespass on her areolae. Her right hand absently stroked his penis, holding it as if to make sure it didn’t get into mischief. He felt it getting longer and firmer.

“Darling…” he whispered, just to enjoy the word.

“Mmm?” She restrained her left hand, which had started to cup his two warm eggs.

Having to continue, he said “You’re so good to me.” She lifted her head to kiss him softly, and felt his penis jump in her sweaty hand. Rather than risking what her Mum would call a premature exclamation, she let go but blushed to think of its heavy load dangling over her. Darryl reached clumsily to the shelf.

“Can you find it, love?”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re looking for,” she laughed quietly and won that little game.

“Got it… should I wear it now?”

“Better. If you don’t, I might end up wearing it!”

Joy let him roll on the sheath, just tactfully feeling that it was there before guiding him in. As his penis slid up her birth canal, Darryl suddenly clasped her imploringly. She knew he had something to say, but let him choose his time. A proposal in this position would be just too funny, but she hoped for a declaration of the tenderness that they both knew was growing.

As usual, they rested after penetration for a few deep breaths while their heartbeats steadied. Now Darryl chose this moment, when Paul’s mum had again accepted him as her man, to indulge his own inner child by asking in an intimate whisper, “Darling, the first time we made love, I was afraid I’d get too excited and ejaculate too soon for you.”

She almost giggled at that, but let him continue.

“I don’t do that, often, do I?”

“Oh no, Honey. You’re fine.” They both smiled and relaxed. Well, just this kind of friendly caring was good too – it was a long time since a man had sincerely opened up even that much to her.

Feeling secure in making love with Darryl, Joy could let herself get fully aroused in the hope of achieving full womanly gratification. She could get engrossed in running her fingers through his hair, tracing the muscles of his back or testing the hardness of his penis as if each of these in turn was the one vital fact in her awareness.

Darryl came to understand her absorption in details of their lovemaking. It was as if the female animal in her needed to make sure of its life and death choice of the male to father her next offspring. For the first time in his life the corresponding male instincts were rising strong and overt in him, too. Personally he just wanted to play and enjoy the wondrous sight and feel of a woman’s body, her underwear and all that pertained to her intimate life. But something deep in his nerves, dwelling perhaps along his lower spine, was obsessively calculating his playmate’s potential for motherhood. Through his eyes and touch it scanned her full breasts, measured her broad pelvis, drew encouragement from the healthy youngster already in her home.

But they each tacitly understood they had to keep their inner animal under control even as they teased the beasts, leading them on just to enjoy the delicious sensations produced.

Darryl held his breath and concentrated on the feel of her interior. So constricting, yet he was soon oblivious to anything outside those few adorable cubic inches. She bent to kiss him deeply, then paused and shifted her weight. “Do you feel anything now?” She was rocking imperceptibly, but the rhythmic contractions around his shaft seemed overwhelming as they filled his awareness.

“I feel our love, almost like our hearts were going to overflow”. Something else was ready to overflow, but he manfully held back.

“Darls … do you wanna take the rubber off?” she whispered sweetly. He couldn’t answer, but missed a beat in the rhythm of his stroke. She was grinning smugly in the dark, knowing she could make her guy sweat, and went on “Come on, let’s get you out of that silly old thing!” She bounced under him in the bed, tangling her legs behind his thighs as she teasingly plucked at the base of the condom. It was slippery with her juice but she got a finger under the rubber ring only to let it slap back on the root of his penis.

“Hey, Joy!” he gasped, shocked by her action, and even more by his own reaction. For the beast was in control now, every muscle galvanised in a tingling wave that savagely gripped his spine.

This was too much for them both, it had to end.. She gasped “Come on… pour it all … into Mummy’s oven.” Through the red fizz of orgasm Darryl heard her soft contralto giggle as she patted her thighs invitingly.

“Oh…” He couldn’t speak articulately, until on the third fluid pulse he declared “Joy, my joy, I love you.” Here eyes were closed, she was trying not to scream with pleasure, but they both knew she was melting for him. It ended with a soft kiss, her lambent eyes searching his face in the bedside light with a unspoken question, both of them keeping hush to protect their moment.

Darryl awoke before Joy, fooled at first by the sun glowing gold through her big bedroom windows that it must already be late morning. Would he be late for work? The bedside clock told him “7.45”, and he felt abashed. Seeing her still sleeping in the clutter of her private room, as he still lay with his naked legs between the sheets of her bed, he felt he’d done wrong. He was an intruder in this home, he realised with a little shock.

Joy’s brassiere draped on the foot of the bed, her empty briefs on the night table, were discarded wrappings that still advertised the unbelievable pleasures they had contained.

the morning after