My Best Friend's Mom

Noelle Hunter brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she opens the door, the soft glow of lamplight spilling out into the hallway. A half-empty wine glass rests in her hand, condensation sliding slowly down the stem.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone tonight,” she says, her voice a quiet, breathy laugh.

“I thought I’d be spending Valentine’s alone.”

She steps aside to let me in, the faint scent of perfume and candle smoke drifting past.

“Plans fell through,” she continues.

“Or… someone got cold feet. Either way, it left me with too much wine, too much silence, and a night that feels far too long.”

She closes the door behind me with a soft click and leans back against it for just a second, studying me with a slow, thoughtful smile before pushing off and moving closer.

“Since you’re here, though… maybe the evening doesn’t have to be a total loss.”

She wraps her arm around my waist, patting my bottom, guiding me deeper into the house.

“Keep me company?” she asks.

“Jonah is out so that means we have the house to ourselves.”

I have never seen Mrs. Hunter like this. She is beautiful, flushed from the wine, and is wearing the sexiest black satin spaghetti slip mini dress with red satin trim, red hearts generously covering the black satin.

Her beautiful blond hair, normally pulled up in a messy ponytail or bun, falls in wavy cascades about her face, past her shoulders. She is normally so self-possessed, so in control. To see her in this state of vulnerability is shocking, to say the least, and a little arousing.

I am in town from college, and her son, my best friend from high school Jonah, will be arriving the day after tomorrow. I am truly alone with his mom tonight, and she is pulling me deeper into the house.

She guides me into the dimly lit living room, the flickering of candles casting a warm glow across her features. Setting her wine glass down on the coffee table, she turns to face me, one hand coming up to rest lightly on my chest.

“I must admit, when I heard the knock at the door, I wasn't sure what to expect. But seeing you standing there...”

Her gaze travels slowly over my form, appreciation clear in her eyes.

“Well, I think fate may have had a hand in bringing you here tonight.”

She takes a step closer, invading my personal space in a way that crackles with unspoken possibility. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest as she speaks again, her voice low and inviting.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had time to really talk, just the two of us. I find myself wondering…”

She steps back and gestures to the plush sofa, a warm invitation.

“Come, sit with me. Let’s catch up properly. It’s not often I get the chance to talk to such charming company these days.”

I sit beside Noelle Hunter. I’ve known her forever. She had Jonah when she was young, and since I just turned 21 this year, she can’t be over 40 yet.

Jonah’s dad split when he was born, leaving Noelle to step up and raise him. She has done a remarkable job, not only with Jonah but also with me, sometimes acting as a better mother than my own.

Surprisingly, she handles her wine well, and we reminisce about the days when Jonah and I ran wild, always getting into trouble. I remember how I would be sent home so she and Jonah could talk.

“Mrs. Hunter,” I ask, “why did I always get sent home when Jonah and I got in trouble as kids?”

“Why couldn’t you talk to both of us?”

She chuckles softly, a sound low and rich with amusement. Leaning back against the cushions, she crosses her legs, the movement causing her dress to ride up slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her smooth thigh.

“Oh honey, I spanked Jonah, and he was a naughty boy, so he got spanked a lot.”

Her lips curve into a playful smirk.

“You were probably even naughtier than Jonah. Your parents...they never believed in it, so I respected their wishes...but you definitely deserved it just as much as Jonah did, if not, in some cases more.”

“Jonah got spanked? How long did this last? He never told me.”

She laughs and uncrosses and recrosses her legs, leaning in a bit closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially.

“Well he wouldn't, would he? I imagine it would be quite embarrassing for a boy to share that with his best friend. And, well, I'm still spanking Jonah.”

I gasp, but she laughs, squeezing my knee.

“Not nearly as often, mind you, but now that he's 21, his mistakes, though few and far between, have much higher consequences. So I believe, and I know Jonah believes it too—even though he hates it—that what's a painful, humiliating spanking, compared with a DUI or jail time? You know?”

“Makes sense,” I reply, trying to be as noncommittal as possible, and also adjusting the bulge in my pants.

Seeing Noelle Hunter in her dress, ****, and talking about the spankings that she wanted to give me, for some reason arouses me beyond belief.

Her gaze drifts downward, noticing the adjustment I make. A knowing smile plays at the corners of her mouth as she takes another sip of wine, holding my gaze over the rim of the glass.

“It's only natural, I suppose. Growing boys, all those hormones raging...”

She sets the glass down and leans back, stretching languidly like a cat in the sun.

“Though I must say, you're handling yourself very well.”

In a fluid motion, she rises from the couch and holds out a hand to me, eyes glinting with mischief and something more heated.

“Come dance with me. It's been far too long since I've had a partner on Valentine's Day. And I do so love dancing…”

I dance with her. She feels firm, fit, and delicious as I try to keep my hands in the small of her back. She smells so good, and none of this is doing anything for my raging erection. I try to keep my hips away from hers, but she's been drinking and when she puts her head on my shoulder, we come together…

As our bodies press together, she hums softly, a sound of contentment and barely restrained desire. Her arms wind around my neck, fingers playing with the hairs at my nape. She sways with me, following my lead, but subtly guiding me as well until we're moving in perfect sync.

“Mmmm, you clean up nicely,” she murmurs, her lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“All grown up now, aren't you? Such a man...”

One hand trails down my back, nails lightly scraping through the fabric of my shirt. She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, her eyes dark and smoldering with intent.

“I've watched you grow up, you know. Watched you become this...”

She licks her lips, gaze dropping briefly to my mouth before meeting my eyes again. She presses herself flush against me, one hand resting high on my chest while the other tangles in my hair. Her body molds perfectly to mine as she sways to the slow, sensual beat. The heat of her skin bleeds through the thin fabric of her dress, igniting every nerve ending.

Her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest as she speaks, each touch sending sparks of electricity through my veins.

“I hope you don't think less of me for telling you about Jonah's punishments. I just wish...sometimes...I just wish...”

“What?” I whisper.

I know what's coming next, and my mouth is dry with arousal and dread. Her hand slides down to stroke my muscular bottom.

Her hand continues its exploration, kneading the firm muscle of my rear as she holds me close. She tilts her head, her blonde waves falling around us like a curtain, creating an intimate cocoon that feels both private and electrifying.

“Sometimes I wish I could have punished you too,” she confesses, her voice low and husky, laced with barely restrained desire.

“Spanked that naughty little bottom of yours until you were begging for mercy.”

She rolls her hips against mine, the heat of her core pressing insistently against my straining arousal. Her lips brush the underside of my jaw, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin with a teasing caress.

“I bet you'd look so perfectly at home over my knee,” she murmurs, “squirming and whimpering as I redden your cheeks.”

Her hand slips beneath the hem of my shirt, her calloused fingertips skimming over the taut muscles of my abdomen, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through me.

“You always got away with it, Ero,” Noelle whispers in my ear, her breath warm and intoxicating.

It tickles and ignites a fire in my loins.

“You never had to face the consequences of your actions like Jonah did,” she continues, her tone playful yet serious.

To be continued in chapter 2...