Young and Eager

Two Brothers By I.G. Frederick After dropping the kids off at their father's house for one of his weekend visitations, I stopped for paint and wallpaper. I planned to redecorate my children's rooms while they were gone, rather than repeat last month's fiasco. That weekend, instead of taking advantage of my freedom from soccer games and birthday parties to do needed repairs, I spent the entire time surfing the Internet. A visit to an erotica short story website proved barely titillating so I spent hours taking those free tours of porn sites (I couldn't bring myself to give up the personal information required to join). The weekend ended in a frenzied search for cookies and browser history files to erase, so my computer genius son wouldn't find out what his mother had been doing in his absence. As usual, I parked my cherry-red convertible at the far end of the lot, hugging a landscape island, to avoid getting her dinged. Rita still looked as sharp as when I drove her off the lot the day after my divorce was final, four years ago. Holding the button that raised the ragtop and clicking the fastenings in place, I noticed two young men hanging out next to a battered pickup truck with the hood up. They gave us the once over as I climbed out. I knew they looked mostly at the car. I'm almost forty-five and, although I try to keep in shape, childbearing did take its toll and my hair already shows streaks of grey. Still, I could feel the young men's eyes turn from Rita and follow me through the parking lot. They probably wondered how an old mom got such a sharp ride. I swayed my hips provocatively to let them know that while not young, I'm not dead either. I wore tattered cut offs and an old t-shirt — great for painting, but hardly sexy. But, they were tight and showed off what I like to call a voluptuous figure. I forgot about the boys while I shopped, and was surprised to see them when I pushed my cart — filled with paint, wallpaper, detergent, and other household necessities — back out to my car. The truck's hood had been lowered and they each rested a foot on the rear bumper. I gave Rita a quick once-over to make sure they hadn't taken their frustration out on my baby. When your husband of fifteen years leaves you for his twenty-two-year-old, size-two secretary, you take whatever consolation you can get — in my case a sporty, red, five-speed that guys drooled over. I opened the trunk and puzzled about how to squeeze in the cart's contents. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shorter of the two men nudge the taller until he ambled over and helped me stow my purchases. Better than six feet tall and all muscle, he wore tight, worn blue jeans, scuffed cowboy boots, and a red, checked cotton shirt that clung to his skin. He smelled of engine oil, sweat, and hay. I slammed the trunk and turned to thank him. He looked down at me with his wide-brimmed cowboy hat in his hands, his face rugged and tanned as if he spent most of his working days outside. "Excuse me, ma'am, can I ask you a very personal question?" He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Maybe he'd never seen a cherry-red convertible driven by a 45-year-old divorcee. I nodded, curious. "You see, ma'am, my brother and me are from Lima, Montana, and we've never been to the big city before." Somehow I'd never thought of Boise, Idaho, as the big city. "Before he died, my pappy told us that the first time we got laid we should find a woman with some experience 'cause she would show us how to do it right. We're both still virgins, and we were wondering if you might be interested in teaching us." My mouth dropped open. I fell against the trunk, but jumped back up when the sun-heated metal burned bare legs below my cutoffs. Well, I had to give him points for originality — I had never heard a pickup line like that. His eyes stayed glued to the toes of his boots. "I know this is a little abrupt and I beg pardon, but we noticed you weren't wearing a wedding ring, and we thought maybe a woman who drove a car like that," he pointed his hat at Rita, "and walked the way you do might be," he cleared his throat, "might be more willing than most to consider breaking us in." I just stared at him, working my eyes down his muscular chest to the crotch of his jeans. A decent size bulge, but he could have stuck socks in there. I don't know if pheromones, the fact that I hadn't had sex with a man in four years, or the heat, made me decide to play along, for the moment. "Well, now, that would depend on what you had to offer." I kept my voice low and husky and ran one finger along his zipper. The bulge grew and his face turned bright red. He cleared his throat again. "I believe, ma'am, that I may be a little bigger than normal, but I really have no way of knowing." "What about your brother?" "He's not as big as I am, ma'am." I looked at the other young man, shorter and more wiry than his brother, watching us from under his hat. I thought about dated wallpaper and peeling paint as well as long lonely nights alone with a rubber dong — afraid to use a vibrator because the kids might hear it. "I'd have to really see what you had to offer before I agreed to anything." I couldn't believe I said that. He shifted his weight again and scanned the area. Cars were filling the lot. "If you came over to the truck, I could stand behind the door. You and Pete could block the view and I could ... give you a peek." I envisioned the two of them throwing me in the pickup and taking me somewhere to rape me. But then why ask? Intrigued, I walked with him over to the truck. Pete and I stood side by side next to the open driver's side door. The young man, he couldn't have been much more than 19, stood with his back to the truck's interior, pulled down his zipper and extracted the longest, thickest cock — even only half-erect — I have ever seen in real life. I reached out and ran my finger along the bottom. It stood at full attention — eight inches long and almost two inches thick. I decided I wanted to be the first woman to sit on it. I looked up in the man's face and saw his eyes for the first time. A piercing blue, they stared right through me, as if he could see how much I needed a man's touch again. "Where you boys staying?" I asked. "We just got into town this morning, and haven't found a place yet." He stood there with his cock hanging out of his jeans. "We stopped here to get some oil for the truck." I could see remnants of hay bales strewn about the pickup's bed; they'd probably slept in there for a couple of nights. I turned around toward the highway and heard the sound of a zipper closing behind me. "There's a halfway decent motel over by the interstate exit." I pointed in the general direction. You could see the sign from where we stood. "You boys go over there and get a room. I'll follow." I wasn't about to take these fellows home — I figured I risked enough going to a motel with them. Pete walked around and climbed into the passenger side. I looked up at his brother. "Do you have condoms?"