A tall, handsome young man dressed in comfortable gym shorts and a t-shirt stood patiently on the other side of the door. Melinda could see him narrow his eyes and try to peer through the small crack. With the sunlight assaulting her face, Melinda squinted right back at him.

"Uh, hello?" he asked.

"Yeah? Is that you, Brandon?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Let's drop the ma'am stuff, yeah?" she said.

"Yeah, sure ma—I mean, yeah, OK."

Melinda wasn't sure what to do next so she kept her mouth shut.

A car drove by. Brandon checked his watch. But, he was still no closer to getting invited in. He coughed into his fist.

"So, uh, is Isaac home?" he asked eventually.

"What? Oh, yeah, why don't you come on—" she started to say. Then, Melinda closed the door a little more.

"Wait!" Brandon said, bringing his curious face in closer.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to let me come inside? Is everything OK in there?"

Melinda wiped her hand on her stomach. The cum left a bright sheen on her skin. She cursed but didn't budge, so the two of them stood nearly face to face through the narrow crack in the door for a little while longer. Then finally, Melinda swung the door in—but just a little, not enough for a person to squeeze through. She motioned for the curious teenager to step aside so she could see behind him.

"Is that your truck?" she asked.

He smiled proudly. "Yeah, that's mine."

"Parked on the sidewalk?"

"Is it? Why do you ask?"

Melinda pointed at the empty space next to her truck, an area that wouldn't block foot traffic. "Those poor dog walkers," she mumbled.

"It's brand new, I just got it," Brandon continued.

"You bought it all by yourself?"

"No way, I don't have a job," he laughed. "And even if I did, it would probably be a shit job so I couldn't afford that."

Melinda frowned. "I know, that's not the point, the point is—ah never mind. Just... Just get in here."

The poor boy froze in his tracks when he saw her.

"I was, uh, just in the middle of changing, I hope that's alright?"

He nodded. "No—yeah, whatever, it's cool. So, is like, Isaac home?"

"I think he's in his room. He might be changing too, we just got home a minute ago. Well, don't just stand there, come on." Melinda turned and headed to the kitchen. She could feel Brandon on her heels.

She turned her back and reached up for her trusty stash once again. She spoke a little more casually once she found what she was looking for, "So, how old are you these days Brandon?"

"S-s-seventeen."

Melinda shrugged as she prepared a glass for him. "Close enough. Do you like wine?"

"Yeah, no, wine's cool," he lied.

She winked and clinked his glass. "To Friday," she said.

Brandon laughed, but he'd learn how important weekends were in a few years, and that toast would become his mantra.

"Here, sit," she said, making her way over to the bar. "And tell me about all the fun stuff you guys have been up to. I hear there's a big dance coming up, is that right? Who's the lucky girl?"

He took a tentative step, then another until he finally found his seat, "I, er, I mean, well..."

Melinda enjoyed this far more than she thought she would. She set her hand on top of his and joked, "Breathe, it's OK, maybe we could start with something a little easier. Like... What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," the handsome boy blurted out.

"Jesus..." she muttered. "I mean, good! And now that we've got that settled, do you guys have any big plans for the weekend? Any parties I should know about—wait you're not having one here while I'm at work, are you?"

He held out his palms. "No... No! Of course not ma—no we're not really doing much."

Melinda rubbed her thumb over his hand. "Well if you did, would I be invited?"

The boy took a swig and gulped down the entire glass. "Well, no, we're not—but yeah of course you could come."

"Why would you invite me, huh? And don't tell me you would just because it's my house either," she joked.

He stammered and mumbled, but couldn't find any words. The terrified boy stared into his empty glass.

Melinda's smile grew wider. "It's because I'm fun, isn't it? Or maybe cute? Is that what the boys say about me?"

"And you're smart too," he said.

"Oh please, I couldn't solve a crossword puzzle even if it was just shapes and colors."

Brandon didn't laugh.

"More wine?" she asked.

He nodded first, and then gave it some thought. She gave him a moment to make up his mind, and after a brief deliberation, he nodded once again.

Melinda slowly, and very deliberately made her way to the other side of the bar where she collected their glasses. She knew the moment she turned his eyes would be on her, so she took her time. That's what she planned on doing anyway, but the plan changed when she found her bottle to be empty.

The wine stash towered above her in a high cabinet. She was perfectly capable of getting it herself, with some difficulty of course, but when she got up on her toes and pretended to struggle, she had hoped that even he would pick up on the cue to assist her. Her hand very audibly flopped around, swatting at nothing in particular while she reached and strained. Glass bottles clinked together, one of them even teetered and nearly fell. Melinda grunted as she caught it. But still, the boy didn't jump up to save her.

Finally, a frustrated young woman turned toward him and caught the red-faced teenager mid-stare. She ignored the fact his eyes were glued to her bottom, well, with the exception of the thin grin she allowed to stretch up from the corners of her mouth. "Do you think you could, you know, give me a hand?"

"Oh, you need help? Yeah, sure, I can probably reach it."

"Ya think?" Melinda muttered.

"No, definitely, see?" Brandon said confidently. He even grinned as he proudly produced a bottle of Le Blanc.

"Actually, that's white wine, can you get a red?"

Brandon frowned but diligently went back to work. He didn't exactly do what she wanted though, he was so tall he didn't need to really close the distance between them. She wanted him right there behind her, she wanted the incidental contact where the bulge in his shorts slid over her bottom. There was this inappropriate and unfair urge to compare him to her son. It made her ashamed, she knew she shouldn't be disappointed in Isaac, but she couldn't help but wonder how much bigger Brandon was. He probably wouldn't cum so quickly either. She thrust her butt back into him just as he took a step back.

"Here you go," Brandon said.

Melinda swiped it from his hand and made her way back to the counter, mumbling, "What the fuck are they teaching them these days, fucking Chivalry?"

But in the end, she got her red. Melinda topped them off and stood on the opposite side of the bar when he took his seat. She leaned in and flashed her cleavage. Brandon took a big gulp.

"Easy! Savor it!" she said.

"I am savoring it! I just savor a lot at a time," he explained.

Melinda waited until he set his empty glass down. "Tell me, Brandon, do you have a girlfriend?"

"Oh, uh, no. Not anymore."

"Oh? What happened?"

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "She just wasn't mature enough, you know?"

"Definitely," Melinda agreed. "Someone like you needs a thoughtful, mature woman."

"Yeah!"

"Like someone who's good in bed."

"Exactly—" he started. Then, a fine red, mist spewed forth from his lips, showering the surprised woman in front of him.

Melinda closed her eyes and reeled back, but it was too late. Her face was doused, and her shirt was riddled with red streaks. She didn't panic though. There was no dancing around and hopping on her feet and flailing her arms. The smooth single mom casually swirled her glass in her hand and then brought her serious gaze back to Brandon.

He surveyed the damage, but not for very long. He instinctively wrenched his eyes away as small, red droplets began to run down the naked skin of her breasts and into her top. He gulped. "Should I, like, uh... Clean you?"

"That would be nice," she said. And without looking she pointed to the hand towel across the kitchen behind her.

The boy leaped up like an excited puppy and fetched the towel. When he came back, he found Melinda sitting tall on her bar stool, with her legs dangling down but not touching the floor. She pouted and presented her face to the young man and permitted him to dab at her cheek. His shaky hands wiped across her brow, down her nose, and over her lips. Melinda could smell him. It was a strong, fresh fragrance, like one of the body washes the excitable teenagers at her store would buy. Then suddenly, he bumped into her.

Brandon's crotch rubbed over the bare skin of her knee. The towel slipped from his fingers and Melinda could feel her breath bouncing off his hand. She pursed her lips and nuzzled up against his fingertips. The bulge stirred in his shorts. Melinda could feel him pressing it into her, harder. Cautiously, slowly, his hand moved lower.

Melinda angled away so he could rub at her neck. Lower, down her slender throat and onto her collar bone. His open palm wiped sideways back and forth across the opening in her shirt. Then, he stopped.

Brandon fidgeted where he stood. "You, uh, I... Should me, do that?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Don't be shy."

"Like... Like that?"

"Keep going."

"But it's, um, I can't reach is all. It's like way down there."

Melinda very deliberately and very slowly raised her arms high in the air.

Brandon's eyes shot open wide. "I, uh... What do you want me to do?"

"Help me take it off," Melinda said.

"But like, won't you, you know... Like, be naked?"

"That's the point," Melinda snapped. "Now you made the mess, so help me get out of this shirt before it stains."

He nodded and his hands reached for her top. A moment later it was neatly folded and being set down right in the middle of the red mess on the counter. Melinda was too relieved to be angry. The cool air washed over her naked chest and sent little goosebumps up and down her legs as she kicked playfully into the air. Brandon coughed.

It was the first pair of tits he'd ever seen, and even though he didn't know it, they were just as fresh and as perky as all those girls in his class. They stood up proudly on their own. Melinda's chest wasn't particularly big, a meager B-cup, but he didn't know that either. To him, they were the most beautiful things on the planet. After some awkward and uncomfortable glances at her face, and around her stomach, Brandon finally found the courage to stare right at them. He gasped.

"So, what do you think?" she asked.

"Oh, um, they're nice."

"Nice?"

"No—yeah! They're great, you've got great tits," he said quickly. "No seriously, they're the nicest tits I've ever seen."

"Are they as nice as your ex's? I mean, are they as big as hers, and do they feel the same?"

"Feel the—I don't know. Can I... I mean, should I..." he stammered while reaching out with a tentative hand.

She leaned forward but stopped just before the tips of her nipples scraped into his palms. "If you want, yeah, you can touch me, I don't mind. Do you want to touch me?" Melinda gave him a very playful, very devious smile and rubbed her knee over his pants. "I think you do, I think you like me."

"I... It's just..." Brandon glanced up at the entrance to the kitchen and strained his ears. "Isn't Isaac home? What if he sees us?" he whispered.

Melinda knew he was right. She'd been cloudy since she'd gotten in her car that afternoon, almost like she was on the outside looking in. She grabbed his hands and led him toward the den. "Quickly, follow me, come on!"

"What? Where are we—"

"Hurry!"

The boy trotted behind her, his dick flopping up and down beneath his flimsy shorts until they came to a small door. This was the entrance to the garage, a place Isaac wasn't permitted to enter. Melinda undid the deadbolt, pulled the door open then whisked the High School Junior inside.

The lights flicked on, and the topless woman pointed to the massage table in the middle of the room. She watched with interest as Brandon slowly circled around it and ran his hand over the sheets. He reminded her of someone, of one of her customers who did that same routine every time.

"So, have you ever had a massage?"

Brandon glanced over at her almost as if he were just seeing her for the first time. He shook his head. "No, but it, uh, I guess it looks pretty cool. Are you, like, a massage-er?" he asked.

She pointed to her state license certificate hanging on the wall. He didn't exactly read the document but appeared to be impressed by all the words and fancy calligraphy. Melinda peered across the table at him and said, "Well, do you know how it works?"

"I think so, I just sort of hop up on here and lay down, right?"

"More or less," Melinda said, then patted the table. Torment and confusion seeped out through his pores and were palpable from where she stood. But he only hesitated for a moment before deciding to clamber aboard. She was quick to correct him, but remained soft and neutral, "Some people prefer to do it naked, what about you? What do you want?"

"Uh, I... I... Yeah, I think I'd like it like that. I get a towel though right?" But as soon as finished speaking, he found Melinda smiling, and a neatly folded towel dropped down in his hands.

"I won't look, just let me know when you're ready," she said.

He practically tore his clothes off the moment she turned away. He was naked and on his back in less than a few seconds. "OK, I'm ready, you can turn around now."

The first thing Melinda did was methodically fold the towel into halves. Over and over again she carefully minimized the thing that he'd incorrectly placed over himself from head to toe like a blanket. Melinda had seen this before and was pretty good at maintaining the privacy of her clients while she worked. When she was done, the thickly folded fabric covered his loins and provided just enough concealment for his erection.

As she rubbed lotion in her hands she asked, "So Brandon, where do you want to focus on today?"

"Oh, uh, anywhere's fine."

"But is there anywhere in particular, like your chest, or your abs, or your—anything?"

He gripped the towel with both hands and pulled it down tight over his erection. Even through all the fluff Melinda was able to make a pretty accurate guess of his size. She waited a little bit longer, but when the boy didn't answer, she went to work. Her wet, slippery hands started at his chest and worked the lotion into his skin, swiping at him with long, rapid strokes. She reloaded and made a second pass. Then a third, until finally his skin glistened in the low light.

"I like that you're smooth," she said. "Isaac's like that too. I think more boys should shave their bodies. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it helps a lot you know, with water aerodynamics—or something like that."

"Uh-huh. But can I ask you something?"

Brandon grunted when she switched to his legs. Her hand plopped down right on his sensitive thigh. "Yeah, sure, what's up?"

"Do you shave everything—like down there?"

"Well, we don't have to, but, uh, yeah. I do. I think everyone does. I know Isaac does."

Melinda raised a brow. "Oh yeah, you've seen him? Oh, I bet you change together, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah that's it. And sometimes we..." Brandon started, then cut himself off.

"What? What is it Brandon, what were you going to say?"

He opened his legs an inch. Then two inches. "We uh, you know, sometimes help each other—like with the shaving. It's not easy!" he insisted.

"Oh, believe me, I know. Well, that's sweet of you. So what do you guys do, how does it work? Wait, does Isaac do this too?"

He nodded. "We all sort of like, I dunno, take turns. Maybe like once or twice a week, sometimes more. We just sort of, you know, help each other."

Melinda planted one hand on his tummy, the other was sliding up his thigh. "Like you undress each other, is that it? Or, do you rub the shaving cream on each other too?"

"Well, I guess, yeah, we even put the cream on each other. Like Isaac does me usually. It's the first thing we do after school, we go into the locker room, and Isaac he... He helps me get undressed. And after that is when he rubs the cream on me."

"Does he put it here?" Melinda asked, then tapped the towel just beside his erection.

He swallowed. "Sometimes, yeah."

"And you do him too?"

"Y-y-yeah."

"Do you guys ever get excited while you're together, all alone in there by yourselves?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Does it make you hard when Isaac touches you?" she asked bluntly.

"Yeah—but it's not like that! We're not gay, it's just natural, you know?"

"What about when I touch you? Is that 'natural' also?"

"Yeah! Exactly! I can't help it! Ah!" Brandon yelped.

Melinda's hand had slipped up his thigh and found its way under the towel. The pads of her fingers nudged his scrotum. "Does my son ever touch you like this?" she asked.

"Yeah, but not a lot. He mostly, well—no, I can't, I promised."

"No, uh-uh, you have to tell me. Brandon!"

He raised himself onto his elbows, then onto his hands until he was nearly sitting up. But all he gave her was a defiant shake of his head.

To her surprise, Melinda found herself pleading. "You can trust me, I won't tell I promise! Come on, what does my sweet boy do with you?...