Mark eased off the gas as the first heavy snowflakes hit the windshield of his Ford F-150 pickup truck. It was still just flurries, but the radio kept repeating the same warning. There was a winter storm moving in fast, with eight to twelve inches of snow expected by midnight and maybe more. He checked the dash clock. It said 1:51 p.m. He did the math. If he moved quickly he could still sweep the chimney, clean the firebox, haul in enough wood, and be headed home by four-thirty. That should be just in time to beat the storm. He’d be cutting it close, but it was doable.
His mom had called two weeks ago. Her voice had been soft and apologetic.
“Mark, I hate to ask, but the fireplace hasn’t been touched since last winter. With this cold front coming I’m nervous about the chimney.”
After putting her off for a couple of weeks with work deadlines, he had finally promised to come today.
He pictured her the way she’d looked last summer while they were gardening together. It was hot, sweaty work. When she bent over, her big round ass looked amazing in those cut-off shorts. Every time she reached or stretched, her heavy breasts swayed under her thin tank top. She was sixty-three years old, and she still had a stunning body. Dad had been gone four years now, and Mark hated picturing his mom alone every night in that big old house. She deserved dates, attention, someone telling her how beautiful she was, and hands on those curves.
The thought went straight to his cock, same as always. He shifted in his seat. He was already half-hard. His wife, Karen, hadn’t let him touch her in weeks. They were fine as partners and parents, but sex was mostly off the table. Once a month, if he was lucky, she’d lie back with a sigh and wait for him to finish. Most nights he jerked off in the shower, and nine times out of ten the mental image that got him there was his own mother. He’d picture some fleeting memory of her in a towel, or the way an old nightgown used to cling when she hugged him goodnight.
The fantasies about his mom had started as a teenage hormone storm. They had faded for a while when he and Karen were first married and sex was regular, but these last ten years (since the kids and since Karen lost interest) the fantasy had come roaring back, and it was stronger than ever. Forbidden desires always burn hottest.
The radio crackled again. Travel was not advised after dark. He turned onto his mom’s street. Her house was at the end. He pulled into her driveway, cut the engine, and watched the flakes hit the windshield.
It was still just flurries, but it was time to get the work done and get home.
Mark grabbed his gloves and tool bag, stepped out into the wind, and started up the walk.
***
Linda opened the door with a big smile.
She was five-six, which was half a foot shorter than Mark. She had thick red hair that fell past her shoulders with only a few grey strands. She had pale blue eyes. A light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks and the small laugh lines at the corners of her eyes only made her prettier. Dark blue jeans stretched tight over her round, heavy ass and full thighs. Her fitted pale-blue sweater traced her narrow waist and clung to her large breasts, their weight clear every time she moved.