I have a friend. Let’s call her Kayla. This is my story of something that happened between us one day.

Kayla is a student at the college I attend. She was in one of my classes this past semester. I noticed her from the very first day. She was striking–the kind of girl you might call an Irish rose; long red hair, cream complexion, tall with long legs that just wouldn’t quit. The kind of girl that makes you nervous if you have to approach her for something. But besides her obvious good looks, Kayla was smart. She was assertive in class, one of those people that not only always knows the answer, but has something to add of her own to the subject, not just parroting the dry boring shit that’s written in the textbook. We had several interesting debates in the classroom when it turned out that we were at opposite ends of some issue. Kayla was the only person in the room other than the teacher who was bright enough to be able to hold her own with me when I disagreed with her about something. In fact, more than once she was able to beat my argument with one of her own, leaving me with nothing to say. The other students even CLAPPED one time; that’s how perfectly she had reduced my point to nothing. You could have stuck a fork in me..I was done!

We became fast friends. Soon we were meeting early before our classes, going across the street to the small counter place there to have coffee and chat. Or rather, I would have coffee. Kayla always drank herbal tea. I teased her about this, told her she was “putting on airs.” She just laughed. When we were in class, the other students treated us as though we were a couple. I’m sure most of them thought that we were. Yet, we were not. It was only a friendship. This all took place in the fall, and that is one of the things I remember about that time–going about my business, walking outside and feeling the air grow chilly and the skies turn grey on many days. Other days the sun would be bright and the sky a faded blue, thin sunshine warming you through your jacket.

I started thinking something strange about Kayla. I didn’t fantasize about us as boyfriend and girlfriend, although she was certainly beautiful. It occurred to me that she would make a perfect mother for someone. I hated my own mother with a passion. She was bright, too–like Kayla. But where Kayla was open-minded and sought to be fair to everyone’s different points of view, my own mother was prudish and judgemental. She probably considered herself a liberal, but she was more like a stern Puritan in my eyes, always looking down her nose at something.

Anyway, I always became angry when I thought of my own mother. I had finally told her towards the end of 2009 that I never wanted to see or speak to her again. Through an email, of course, because I haven’t been permitted to have my so-called “mother’s” telephone number in years.

I began to think about how much different my life might be if I had someone like Kayla as my mother, instead of the bitter old bitch that I did have, who was really no mother to anyone. Once I began having these thoughts, I had them all the time. Then, one day, something happened.

It was around Halloween, and Kayla and I had just finished taking the midterm for the class we attended together. We left the classroom together; Kayla walking briskly towards the front entrance, me falling into step behind her. I enjoyed watching how her hair bounced and then fell back into place around her shoulders as she walked. She seemed to take for granted that I was following. At the front of the school, as I stepped outside into the gray drizzle that was falling to light a cigarette, Kayla suddenly turned to me. “Hey, do you feel like having a drink somewhere?” she asked. “After that, I feel like I could use one! There’s a place down the block and around the corner. Some little pub that you barely can notice is there. I’ve always wanted to go inside and see what the place looks like.” I agree, feeling enthused at the idea of drinking with Kayla. I hate drunks, but sometimes JUST the right amount of alcohol may make for some interesting conversation.

We walk towards the place in the rain. It’s not pouring, just that misty sort of drizzle that you barely even know is falling, until you run your hands through your hair and they come away wet. As we walk, Kayla suddenly takes my hand. She’s never done that before.

Inside, we find a pleasant surprise. The place is dim and atmospheric. Lots of dark wood and polished copper rails and such. We find a booth alone in a dim corner. I order the house beer–some microbrew that the place gets special, according to the menu. I taste it, and it’s good. Kayla orders a Tanqeray and tonic. Figures, I think to myself. I should have known she would have classy tastes.

She’s different today. During the conversation, she’s suddenly flirty, fluttering her eyelashes and giggling at this and that, or reaching out to touch my hand as she says something. As we finish our first drink, we order another..then another. I’m starting to catch a buzz, and finally I decide to tell her what’s been on my mind. “Uh, Kayla, I have something to tell you. I hope it’s not going to be weird for you, but it’s been on my mind for some time now.” She fixes me with that same eyelash-fluttering gaze she’s been giving me since we sat down, and again places her hand over mine. “what is it?” she asks.

“Well, like I said, it’s a little strange. I kind of, uh……(long pause) Well, you know my family situation sucks. And now we met, and it’s just like..I dunno…” I pause again. Then suddenly I mentally say fuck it, and decide to just come out with it.

“OK Kayla. Lately, I’ve been having this feeling all the time. I’ve been wishing I was much younger…and that you were my mother!” I look at her, waiting expectantly for whatever she’s going to say. I am already bracing myself for a negative response.

She sighs. “Actually, I’ve had something I want to tell you too. Since you were so brave and direct in telling me what was on YOUR mind, I’ll try to do the same. Uh, truthfully…well, there’s no other way to put it than to just say it!”

“What is it?” I ask, all ears.

“I want to fuck you,” she replies.

Kayla and I walk in the rain towards her apartment. It is raining harder now, and the day is grey. I hardly notice. My stomach flutters in excitement and anticipation. Kayla points up the block at a 3 story building on the other side of the cross-street, facing us. “That’s my place, that’s where I live,” she says. Inwardly, I smile to myself. It figures that this mysterious, brilliant girl would live in THAT building. I’ve noticed it before. The roof is gabled, and part of the building is faced in stone. It has a very Old World feel to it. It looks like a house you might see in the Netherlands somewhere, or in some old neighborhood in Amsterdam.

Inside the front door, Kayla explains that there is no elevator. We have to take the stairs. So I follow her into a dim stairwell. After we have gone up 2 flights of stairs, she suddenly pushes me, gently but firmy, till my back is to the wall of the landing. Then she leans in, kissing me hungrily. My hands find her hair, that gorgeous long red hair of hers, and my fingers twine themselves into it. My hand grips her little ass, rubbing it as the kiss deepens.

As we break off the kiss, Kayla fumbles for her keys and lets herself into the apartment. It is all one room, with a big window facing the street. There is an area to the right where a couch is set up in front of a flat-screen TV, with a glass coffee table in front of the couch. Then, to the far left, her bed is set up against the wall. Next to this area, immediately opposite the front door is a little kitchenette with a half-sized stove and a tiny sink and countertop area. Looking around, I assume Kayla eats her meals sitting on the couch, with her plate on the coffee table. The window would let in enough sun to make the apartment bright and cheerful, and probably make it hot enough in the summer to make the AC work twice as hard as otherwise. But, today is gray and rainy, and it is almost dark in the apartment.

Kayla grabs me by the hand, leading me over towards the couch. Once I am in front of it, she pushes me and I fall back onto it. She giggles and then leans in close and whispers in my ear, “From now on, call me Mommy. What you told me in the bar makes me really hot. My panties are all but soaked right now. When we fuck, pretend you’re fucking your mother. OK?”

“OK,” I whisper. Eyes half-closed seductively, Kayla begins to undress before me. There’s no way for her to get out of her dress in a slinky manner (she has to pull it up over her head) but once out of that, she stands before me in her black lace bra and skimpy panties, slowly teasing her way out of the rest of the clothes. Her skin is the color of milk, with only a few freckles sprinkled here and there to break up the white. As her small breasts spring free, I notice that her nipples are a darker color than most women have, almost reddish like her hair. Then she joins me, sitting down next to me on the couch in just her panties. There is a noticeable bulge in the crotch of my pants now.

She leans in again to whisper in my ear. “Are you Mommy’s good boy? can you be good for Mommy and make Mommy’s pussy feel nice? That’s a good son,” she croons. Then she flicks her tongue at my ear, causing me to shiver in pleasure. “Come here, baby. Are you hungry?” she asks teasingly. “Come here and nurse at Mommy’s titty.” She cups her hand underneath her left breast, which is approximately the same shape, and only a little bit larger than a teacup. The nipple stands out proudly. Then my mouth closes over it, sucking greedily. For a few seconds, in my imagination, I am really trying to get milk from it. “Ahhhhhh…that’s it, baby..Suck on Mommy’s titty. That’s my GOOD boy,” she gasps. One hand gently strokes the back of my head as my mouth pulls at her nipple. The other hand slowly steals down into the crotch of her panties; moving, rubbing. As she begins to masturbate more intensely, I can begin to smell a hint of her clean scent on the air. It smells like the aroma of sex which accumulates in a room, let’s say over the course of a long weekend spent mostly laying in bed and fucking. Suddenly Kayla lifts up a bit off the couch, pulling her panties almost all the way down around her ankles. Looking down, I can see her perfect pussy, which looks fleshy and swollen, and very wet. She is not entirely clean-shaven down there. She’s left herself SOME hair, but it is perfectly trimmed and groomed. It is the same flaming, almost carroty-red color as her hair.

Kayla lifts herself up off the couch. “Is my good boy full yet?” she giggles. “Now it’s time to do like you promised and fuck Mommy’s pretty pussy for her. Be a good boy, now” she says with a note of authority in her voice. I quickly strip off all my clothes and sit back down on the couch, cock standing up erect and straight. She straddles me, her pussy hovering over my crotch for an instant. She lets the tip penetrate her lips just enough so that the head of my cock disappears inside her. Then, with one motion, she sits down hard, impaling herself on me and taking me inside her to the hilt. She is so wet that there is almost no friction, and I slide into her easily.

“Ahhh, that’s it! That’s it, baby! Fuck Mommy now! fuck Mommy good,” she shouts, throwing her head back and thrashing her red hair around wildly. Then she begins riding me furiously, bucking and grinding her hips. “Ah fuck…ahh…oh Mommy..Mommy, I love you,” I groan.

It’s over quickly. Too much sexual tension has built up over the last hour. Before I have been inside her longer than perhaps a dozen strokes, I’m cumming hard inside Kayla, draining myself inside her as my orgasm hits. She senses it, and slows her movements, clamping her vaginal walls down on me tightly to milk my cock of its last few droplets of cum. Soon, I am spent, and shrinking inside her. She allows herself to collapse on top of me.

After we separate, Kayla tells me I was a very good boy, but it’s now time for me to take a nap because I must be tired. I fall into a dreamless sleep which lasts 2 hours or so.

When I awake, it is almost night, and the late afternoon is very dark. I see Kayla is asleep next to me in her bed. Smiling, I cover her with the blanket and leave quietly, so as not to wake her.

The next time I have a class together with Kayla, I arrive late, and everyone else is already there. When she sees me, her face turns almost as red as her hair and she looks down at the desk, avoiding my eyes. But, she composes herself quickly. After class is over, she approaches me. “Hey..I have something to talk to you about. Wanna hang for a few? Or, if you want, we could just go to my place.” She smiles, and I know whatever she has to say isn’t going to be bad.

I again follow her out, waiting to see what new thing may happen.

Note from writer: My boyfriend wrote this for me as a fantasy. Thank you, Arioch.

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