I envied Jimmy, since his mom is the coolest. She’d let us get away with almost anything when, we were kids. Her name is Missy, I always called her Mrs. T. She was short, pretty, and a little curvy. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, and wore these red rimmed glasses. She looked a lot younger than the late forties she is.
It seemed like Mrs. T worked all the time. But Jimmy and I never used that as an excuse to do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. She always seemed to know what we were up to. Even if we didn’t tell her directly, she’d find out.
Over time, I started to take a notice to her a little more often. And as Jimmy and I got older. She dressed and acted a little differently around us. She would come down stairs once in a while, wearing just a loose fitting robe. Barely covering her bra and panties. Jimmy would yell “Ma! Axle is here!” or something along those lines at her. But she’d just blow him off, but every once I a while she’d give me this look. I used to think it was the “I know what you’re up to” look.
Axle was my nickname. Mrs. T dubbed me that one night, after a crazy block party. My dad was a little drunk, and slurred out that I could be a little asshole at times. But when he said it, all anyone heard was, little Axle. So Mrs. T took to it, calling me Axle ever since. It seemed to fit.
Jimmy and I loved fast cars and fast girls. We both got jobs when we turned sixteen so we could get our first set of wheels. By the time we were eighteen, we both had our own hotrod project car. We’d tinker on them into the wee hours of the morning.
Jimmy and I were out working on his car one night in his garage. We might have over done it a little on the drinking, and smoking. So when we went back into Jimmy’s house, he told me to just crash on the couch. Something I’d do on a regular basis.
We made a promise to Mrs. T, that we’d never drive if we had been drinking. We would call someone if we needed a ride. Which we had done, on more than one occasion. I think she took it as a sign of us being responsible.
I woke up around five in the morning. My mouth was so dry, it hurt. I staggered to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I was standing there in front of the sink, gulping it down. I heard some one walk up behind me, I thought it was Jimmy, so I just turned around.
It was Mrs. T standing there. Wearing only that skimpy light blue robe, and red fluffy slippers. She eyed me up and down, then gave me a little grin. It didn’t even register to me that I had morning wood, in plain view. She lightly brushed up against me on her way to the coffee maker, turning it on. She then turned to look at me. I was leaning against the counter, just trying to hide my hangover. Oblivious to my morning wood bulging in my boxers.
Mrs. T walked over, and rubbed my cock through my boxers. She then took a hold of it, and asked how I was going to take care of it. I set my water down, and told her I’d toss one off later, like I always do. She didn’t seem satisfied with my answer, as she kept rubbing it.
She turned me towards her, she was standing right in front of me. She gave me a little kiss, rubbing my chest, as she knelt down. She pulled the opening of my boxers apart, and my cock sprang out. She looked up at me, put her finger to her lips giving me a “shhh” sound. Mrs. T licked the palm of her hand and started slowly stroking my cock. It felt like a dream. I was in a semi-state of drunken consciousness, with the hottest mom in the neighborhood giving me a hand job. It didn’t last long before my eighteen year old hormones kicked in, and I shot my load all over Mrs. T’s face.
She scooped all of what she could, with her fingers and licked them clean. Then she stood up, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She told me that I need to learn how to control that. As she looked down, my hard cock still in her hand. Giving me a wink, she told me that I could stay the night any time I wanted.
