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I stood there, my hands on my hips, as I patiently waited for the door to the bathroom to open. When it finally opened, it did so slowly, so as not to alarm anyone.

I think my son's friend was expecting to catch me in the shower, hoping I'd be unable to see him through the foggy glass. Instead, I was standing outside the shower by the tub, naked, with my hair pulled up. With my hands on my hips, he could see everything, and I mean everything.

As I stared at him, his mouth fell open, and I saw his semi-hard cock get fully hard and tent his pants.

"I was wondering if you'd ever come in here," I said.

"I… I…"

"I took too long… is what you should be saying. Don't worry, I dropped every hint a boy your age should need to come in, and still you waited. What, don't you like what you see?"

"But… but…"

"But what? I know your girlfriend broke up with you recently. I know you're clearly of age. And based upon that tent in your pants, I've not mistaken what you've been thinking about as you stare at my body."

"But, Jake…"

"My son… oh, he'll be gone for a while. I made sure of that," I said with a smile. "After all, he knows what's going to happen. I mean, he did tell me about you and your girlfriend."

"He… knows?"

"Of course. He's a great wingman, just like I'm a great wing-mom for him."

"You mean… he's okay with… if we were… really?!"

"Why don't you not worry about that, and instead worry about getting out of your clothes. After all, I imagine that's what you've been thinking about the last couple of days… right?"

He just nodded his head as he pulled his shirt over his head. I watched as his firm abs appeared, and then his muscular legs as he pulled his pants down. I was hoping he would be fun, and looking at the beast that was hiding behind his briefs, I had high hopes.

Unfortunately, he stopped.

"Come on, I know what you want," I coaxed him, walking towards him. His eyes were fixed on my tits.

"Are your nipples pierced?" he asked hopefully.

I took his hand and placed it on my tit. He held onto it, and then started to play with my nipple, feeling my piercing between his fingers.

"I find guys like to flick it with their tongue," I teased. I watched him smile as he realized what I was encouraging him to do. "Of course, that's not the only piercing guys like to play with."

He was a little confused, so I took his other hand and led it between my legs. His eyes got wide as he felt the stud at the top of my hood.

"I've never seen a woman with pierced tits… I mean nipples… let alone her pu…" He paused, trying to not be crass… if he only knew.

"No, you can call them tits, and I have several friends who have them pierced. We love comparing our jewelry."

"You show off your…tits to one another."

I smiled and nodded. "And our other jewelry," I said, reminding him of his other hand.

He moved my little stud back and forth between his fingers, tickling my clit as he did. It felt good, and I moaned a little for him in his ear as I leaned in. "That's it, keep doing that. Unless you want to do it with your tongue."

"My tongue?"

"Oh, don't tell me you've not gone down on your girlfriends. If you do, they'll love you for it, and do some very nasty shit for you… if you do it well, that is."

"Like what?"

"Well, you'll just have to find out for yourself," I said, sliding my hands into his underwear to push them down. 

I think he was a little shocked at just how forward I could be, especially as I wrapped my hand around his member and started to stroke it for him. "We can have a lot of fun together, but you've got to do your part," I told him.

With that, he got down on one knee and licked the small stud at the top of my pussy.

"That's it. Lick my pussy. Make me cum, and see what I'll do for you. Make me cum, you naughty boy."

I loved teasing guys his age. Sure, he was in college, and no boy… nor virgin, but the age play was fun. I was a cougar on the prowl, and I was going to get my prey.

"Come on, push a finger in my pussy. Make it two," I ordered him.

With one hand wrapped around my waist, holding on to my ass, he took his other hand and started fingering me. It felt good, and I was already horny just thinking about him and this, as I waited for him for far too long.

"I bet you wouldn't have waited so long if you had known you could get this, would you?"

"No," he said, muffled by my pussy as I pulled his head in tight against me. I was close to cumming, and I didn't want him to stop. 

"Faster," I ordered him as I was about to cum. "Faster."

He worked his fingers faster in and out of my cunt, and I came as he flicked my clit with his tongue again and again. I came all over his face, and held him there so he couldn't escape, not that he seemed to want to. 

I kept holding him in place until my orgasm finally started to fade. I released him and looked down at him. He wiped his face, and I smiled.

I pulled him up and kissed him deeply, tasting myself on his lips, his tongue, everywhere. "Do that for a girl your age, and they won't be able to say no to you," I teased. I took his hand, which was still fingering me, just slower, and pulled it out of my pussy. I sucked on his fingers like they were a little cock, and he moaned.

"You like that? Then you'll love this," I teased, as I took my turn getting down on my knees. I kissed the tip of his cock and then took his circumcised head all the way into my mouth. I then started bobbing up and down until I was halfway down his staff, and then I went further.

It didn't take long for this horny boy to cum, and as I felt him stiffen, I pulled back, so just his head was in my mouth. 

He tried to move away, to warn me, but I grabbed his hips and held him there as he shot his load into my mouth. There wasn't a lot of cum, so it was easy to take it all.

I stood and opened my mouth, showing him all that cum of his. I then made a show of swallowing it, and showing him my empty mouth. "Ever had a girl do that?"

He shook his head. 

"Well, did you like it?"

He nodded his head this time.

"I can't promise every girl you go down on will do that for you, but some will, and more will if you ask while they're still in that post-orgasmic phase," I instructed him.

I leaned in and kissed his neck, and stroked his limp dick. I knew it would come back to life soon, and I was here to help it along.

He kissed me on the lips, and then deeply in my mouth. Had he forgotten what I had just done, or did he not care? Either way, I was passionately kissing him back as he felt up my body. I enjoyed being felt up.

"So tell me," I said, as we broke our kiss. "Have you been jerking off, thinking about me?"

He said had. "But how did you know?"

"There wasn't a lot of cum. Not for someone your age," I told him. "So I figure you've been pleasing yourself, instead of letting me do that. And maybe I can offer an alternative that's even more fun."

"Like now…"

"Now… later… you can find out just how flexible I am, and how much I enjoy sex. Probably as much or more than you do," I said with a knowing smile.

As I said that, I felt his cock twitch in my hand. "Oh, this looks like it's coming back to life. I guess it wants to fuck me. What about you?"

"Oh yeah," he said.

"No," I said, gripping a little tighter. "Tell me."

"I want to have sex with you."

I gripped tighter. "Is that what I said? Now, what do you want?"

"I want… to… fuck you."

I loosened my grip. "There you go. No need to be nice around me. I've got boyfriends for being nice with. I want to… fuck." I emphasized the word fuck, so he knew how serious I was, and he in turn tightened his grip on my tit. I liked it.

"So, how should we fuck?"

I took a step back and to the side, so I was next to the counter in the bathroom. I hopped up and was sitting on the edge, my shaved pussy was right in line with his cock. I liked it when they were tall; it gave me options.

He stepped forward and lined his manhood up with my opening, pushing inside as he leaned in and kissed me, pulling me into that deep kiss like he meant it.

Oh, he felt good as he pushed into me. His cock wasn't that thick, but had a good length, and he enjoyed playing and sucking on my tits as he slowly fucked me. But I wanted more, so I pushed him back and turned around, putting my forearms on the countertop and spreading my legs.

I turned around, "Fuck my pussy, I mean, really fuck it good."

I lined his cock up a second time, and pushed into me, and started to fuck me.

"Faster," I ordered him. "Harder. Really fuck me."

He started thrusting deeper and faster. That felt good, and soon I was cumming, which meant he wouldn't be far behind. "Cum in me. Cum in my pussy," I cried out as he fucked me hard.

With my permission, he wasn't trying to hold back anymore, and together we came. He gripped my hips extra hard and buried his cock deep inside me, shooting his load. I heard him grunt as he emptied himself inside of me, which caused me to cum even harder. I love hearing a guy enjoy himself.

As our orgasms finished, I stood, keeping his dick in me as long as possible. He, in turn, grabbed my tits from behind, pulling me into him and fondling me.

"That was fun," I said.

"Yeah."

"Care to take a bath with me?" I said, nodding my head toward the large tub.

"Do we have time? Isn't Jake supposed to be coming home soon?"

Last Sunday 5/10 was Mothers’ Day here in the US. The weather here was lovely, and we had a family gathering at our home. Beside Ben, our children and me, Amanda and Diane with their children, Dianes’ mom Shelby, my sister Jennifer and her family, and Jens’ and my mom. A really full house. It was fortunate that for part of the afternoon it was warm enough to be in the backyard.

Ben and Jens’ husband Ron took care of grilling some chicken and hot dogs. Jens’ twin daughters, Sandy and Kelly took the lead in preparing some of the food and helping with the younger children. And the other moms/grandmoms and I spent some time together catching up on family news.

For the most part everyone was doing well. Mom said she has a few more little aches and pains but is feeling pretty good for her age. Sandy and Kelly are finishing their freshman year in college at the end of this month, and both have summer jobs lined up. Both said they really enjoy college life. I asked if they had gone to any parties on campus, they both just giggled and Sandy said “maybe”.  I asked if either of them had a boyfriend … or girlfriend. Kelly said she was seeing a guy, but wasn’t serious just yet. Sandy said she wasn’t into anything serious yet either.

After our meal, Diane and I were feeding our youngest children while my mom and Shelby chatted some more. Ron and his daughters were cleaning up. Amanda took Ben aside, saying she had a question about her car, and needed an expert’s advice. They went out front to her car. A while later, they came back to the backyard, Amanda grinning slyly as she went over to Diane and gave her a kiss, then whispered something to her that made Diane giggle. Ben just looked a little sheepish.

Later after everyone had gone home, I asked Ben about what happened with him and Amanda. He said that when they got out to her car, he asked what she needed to know. He told me that she pulled him close and kissed him, she told him that she just wanted a few minutes with her sexy little brother. She got into the front seat with him and kissed him again, undoing his jeans. He told me she gave him a blowjob there in the car. I laughed and said that explains how Amanda acted when she came back. Probably told Diane what she had done.

She played bass on 10,000 songs, including the most-played track of the twentieth century. She was paid $55 per session. Her name never appeared on the albums.

Gold Star Studios, Los Angeles, 1964. A woman in a cardigan walks past the receptionist, a Fender Precision bass in her hand like a briefcase. She doesn’t sign autographs. She signs a timesheet.

Her name is Carol Kaye. In three hours, she will record what will become the most-played track of the twentieth century. She’ll pocket fifty-five dollars and head to another studio, on the other side of town, for the next session.

The record label will never put her name on the album.

Between 1957 and 1973, Carol Kaye took part in roughly 10,000 recording sessions. Not as the featured artist, not as a guest, but as a hired hand. She was part of an anonymous collective nicknamed The Wrecking Crew—elite studio musicians who actually played the instruments on your favorite records while the famous bands posed for promotional photos.

The work was relentless. Three albums before the day was over. Stale coffee in paper cups. No rehearsal. The charts arrived minutes before the tape rolled. If you couldn’t read a chart and nail the take in two tries, you didn’t get called for the next session.

Carol could do it on the first try.

She started playing guitar in grimy bars at fourteen because her family couldn’t pay the electric bill. Music wasn’t a romantic dream for her. It was survival. It was a job—factory work with better acoustics and lower pay.

But she was faster and sharper than almost everyone else. She corrected charts in pencil while the producer was still explaining what he wanted. In one session in 1968, she told a famous producer his arrangement sounded like a dying dog. She chose her own line. They kept her version.

That descending bass line that drives the Beach Boys’ “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”? Carol Kaye. The propulsive groove of “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’”? Carol Kaye. The acoustic-guitar intro to “La Bamba”? Carol Kaye. The iconic theme from Mission: Impossible? Carol Kaye.

She invented techniques on the spot, out of sheer necessity. When the bass sound was too muddy for AM radio, she stuck felt under the strings and used a hard pick instead of her fingers. The tone cut through the static like a blade. It became the sonic signature that defined 1960s pop.

Bassists spent years—decades—trying to crack the secret of the Beach Boys’ gear to get that sound. They were studying the wrong people. They should have been studying Carol.

She received no royalties. No residuals. No gold-record ceremony. No credit on the album sleeves. When “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” hit number one, Carol was already back in a studio cutting a soap jingle.

The biggest bands mimed her bass lines on TV variety shows. New York marketing departments decided a mom in classic clothes didn’t fit the rebellious-youth image they were selling. So they simply left her name off the album credits.

For thirty years, almost no one cared. The truth only began to surface in the late 1990s, when music researchers found the same union contract numbers on thousands of hit records. The very documents meant to preserve studio musicians’ anonymity betrayed them.

Think about it. Every time you heard “Good Vibrations,” “River Deep – Mountain High,” the Righteous Brothers, Nancy Sinatra, or Sonny and Cher, you were hearing Carol Kaye. She composed the soundtrack of an entire generation’s youth.

And yet the records still say nothing. She’s now over eighty. She wrote instructional books. She trained countless bassists. She is finally starting to be recognized by music historians who uncovered the truth about The Wrecking Crew.

But she never got what she deserved: her name on those albums. Credit for the music that defined an era. Recognition that those bass lines everyone associates with the “Beach Boys” were, in fact, Carol Kaye’s.

Fifty-five dollars a session. Ten thousand sessions. The most-played track of the twentieth century.

In the summer of 1944, Catherine Dior was taken to 180 Rue de la Pompe in Paris—an elegant building in the 16th arrondissement that had been turned into a Gestapo torture center run by French collaborators.

From the start, the interrogators demanded names. Who was in her Resistance network? Where were the others hiding?

Catherine refused.

They beat her, kicked her, and slapped her. When violence failed, they stripped her, bound her hands, dragged her to a bathroom, and held her under icy water until she nearly drowned. Her head was yanked back up, the questions repeated. She lied when she could and revealed nothing of value. The ordeal lasted forty-five minutes.

Two days later, it began again—this time with hours of immersion in freezing water.

She never gave up a single name.

This was Catherine Dior—the woman who would later inspire one of the most famous perfumes in history. Yet the scent now associated with Parisian elegance began with something far darker: a French Resistance fighter who endured torture and concentration camps rather than betray those she loved.

Born Ginette Dior on August 2, 1917, in Granville, Normandy, she was the youngest of five children and twelve years younger than her brother Christian Dior. Their father, Maurice, ran a successful fertilizer business; their mother, Madeleine, tended lush gardens filled with roses and jasmine. Both siblings inherited her love of flowers—a passion that would shape their lives.

That childhood ended abruptly. Madeleine died of septicemia in 1931, and the 1929 financial crash had already ruined the family business. By seventeen, Catherine was living in Provence with her father, their fortune gone. Christian left for Paris to pursue fashion, while Catherine stayed behind, growing vegetables to survive and dreaming of flowers.

Then came the war.

In November 1941, while shopping in Cannes for a radio to hear Charles de Gaulle’s broadcasts, Catherine met Hervé des Charbonneries, a married father of three and a founding member of the French Resistance. They fell in love—and Catherine found her purpose.

She joined the F2 network, a British-funded intelligence unit, using the code name “Caro.” Her work was dangerous: tracking German troop movements, compiling reports, and transmitting clandestine messages to London. During one Gestapo raid in Cannes, she calmly hid and smuggled incriminating documents out under German noses. Her superiors praised her composure and nerve. The intelligence she helped gather contributed to planning D-Day.

By early 1944, the Gestapo was closing in. Catherine received orders to flee to Paris and moved into Christian’s apartment on Rue Royale, continuing her Resistance work and hosting underground meetings. Christian sheltered her and her colleagues, risking his own life.

On July 6, 1944, she went to Place du Trocadéro to meet a contact. It was a trap. A French collaborator had betrayed the network. Twenty-seven people were arrested that day, including Jean Desbordes, the head of her circuit, who would be tortured to death.

Catherine survived Rue de la Pompe and was transferred to Fresnes prison, then Romainville. Prisoners hoped Allied troops would reach them first—American forces had already taken Avranches. Instead, on August 15, 1944, just ten days before Paris was liberated, they were loaded onto a train. The journey lasted a week with no food, no water, and no sanitation.

She arrived at Ravensbrück concentration camp on August 22, assigned prisoner number 57813. Built for 6,000 women, the camp held nearly 40,000 by then. Over its existence, about 130,000 women passed through; an estimated 50,000 died. Twenty-three other women tortured at Rue de la Pompe were imprisoned there alongside Catherine—some never survived.

From Ravensbrück she was transferred repeatedly: to Torgau, forced to make explosives in a disused potassium mine; to Abteroda, a Buchenwald satellite camp where starving women worked twelve-hour shifts producing BMW parts; and later to an aviation factory near Leipzig. The torture left permanent damage—Catherine could never have children.

In April 1945, as Germany collapsed, prisoners were driven on death marches. Catherine was liberated near Dresden by American soldiers and hospitalized for a month. She returned to Paris on May 28, 1945. Christian met her at the Gare de l’Est—and didn’t recognize her. She was so emaciated he looked past her. He had saved rations to make a soufflé; she was too sick to eat it.

Slowly, Catherine rebuilt her life. She reunited with Hervé, and together they started a flower business, rising at four each morning to sell blooms at Les Halles. She became one of the first women in France licensed to sell cut flowers.

Meanwhile, Christian Dior changed fashion forever. On February 12, 1947, he unveiled his first collection—dubbed “The New Look.” That same day, he launched his first perfume, asking for something that smelled like love. According to legend, when Catherine entered the room, Mitzah Bricard exclaimed, “Ah, there’s Miss Dior!” Christian answered, “Miss Dior—that’s the name.” Whether literal or not, the link was unmistakable: the fragrance honored the sister who had survived the unimaginable.

In 1952, Catherine testified against fourteen Gestapo members from Rue de la Pompe, naming victims—some of whom never returned. She received the Croix de Guerre, the King’s Medal for Courage in the Cause of Freedom, the Combatant Volunteer Cross of the Resistance, and was made a Chevalière of the Legion of Honour.

Christian later bought a château in Grasse, near their childhood home. Catherine became an expert grower of centifolia roses, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, and lavender, supplying Dior and other perfume houses. When Christian died suddenly in 1957, Catherine safeguarded his legacy, arranging vast floral tributes for his funeral and helping establish the Musée Christian Dior in Granville.

Catherine Dior died on June 17, 2008, at ninety, having spent her final decades surrounded by flowers. Asked once how she survived, she replied simply: “Love life.”

Every bottle of Miss Dior carries her story—of silence over betrayal, survival over despair, and the determination to cultivate beauty after devastation. The perfume was never just about glamour. It was about endurance, love, and the refusal to let cruelty have the last word.

So mom texted me Friday afternoon and ask if I had plans this weekend since it was Valentines day weekend. Since I didn’t have a steady girlfriend, I texted her back and so no, you’re my only Valentine. She texted back and said funny you should say that, our office is having a Valentines party Saturday night and I don’t want to go alone. If you’re not doing anything I was hoping that you might be your old moms date?

Boom!!! Instant cock twitch!!! I texted her back and said, sure but wouldn’t you rather go with a nice guy you know? She text back and said, well I do know a few guys, but I’m not looking for any commitment you know how men are. So I told her I would be glad to be her date.

So I get to moms house at about 3 o’clock on Saturday. She is busy getting ready so I sat down and started watching some Bball on TV. The party starts at 5 so about 4:30 she comes walking in the living room dressed in a red dress that totally accented all of her curves about mid thigh length. My mouth dropped open, she laughed and said well aren’t you going to say anything? All I could say was WOW mom you look terrific, are you sure your not trying to catch a guy? She spun around a couple of times and I could tell she felt pretty also. So since we were probably going to have a few drinks I called for an Uber to pick us up. 

When we got to the party mom interduced me to her friends, we sat around and had a couple of drinks then had a great steak with seafood. After dinner we had a few more drinks and as I said before mom is a pretty light weight I could tell she was really starting to feel the alcohol. So as the party started to wind down we had a few more drinks and mom started getting to that drunk state, so I texted the Uber guy and had him come pick us up. By the time the Uber got there the drinks had really hit mom, I had to help her get in the car. So as we start driving, mom just kind of slumps over against her door pretty much out of it. I kept looking at her legs and the way she was setting with her legs about half way open. I put my right hand on her left thigh, she didn’t respond, so I pulled her left leg closer to me, still no response. So I ran my hand up her thigh getting close to her pussy, still no response. So I brushed my finger against her pussy and low and behold she didn’t have any panties on! So now my dick is getting harder than Chinese math, I couldn’t resist, I parted her lips and started rubbing her clit. Her pussy got instantly wet, so I slipped a finger inside her, she never moved, so I started fingering her with gusto. You could her the wet slopping noise, I looked up and saw the driver had adjusted his mirror and was able to see what was happening in his back seat so I didn’t disappoint him I gave him a full view. As the driver pulled into the drive he said, looks like you’re going to have a great Valentines. I paid the guy and then half carried mom into the house and straight to her room.

I took off her dress and bra and oh man she looked so amazing naked, those long titties and her terrifically wide hips!!! I pulled back the cover on the bed laid her in her spot, quickly shucked out of my clothes raised and spread her legs so that I had a perfect view of that beautiful pussy and asshole and did a faceplant into that wet pussy. Her pussy smelt and tasted so sweet, just like I remembered from NYE. I can’t tell you how many times I have jerked off to that memory!!! So after devouring her pussy for a few minutes, I turned my attention to that pretty little puckered asshole. I licked her from the top of the crack in her ass all the way to the sweet little pucker. I licked and suck her tight hole for a few minutes, then buried my nose in her pussy hole and started tounge fucking her ass. OMG I was so turned on, her body was enjoying it too because her pussy was flooding my face. I worked my ring finger into her asshole and then put the other two fingers in her pussy and fingered the hell out of her and sucking on her clit. I felt her body shutter and the she squirted all over my face and hand WOW that also tasted amazing!! 

My dick couldn’t take it anymore, so crawled between her legs positioned my dick at her hot wet hole and drove it in to the hilt. OMG her pussy is so tight and hot, I fucked her like she was the last pussy on earth. Her pussy is so wet and juicy just the sound of my dick gushing in and out and my balls slapping against her bubble butt drove me over the edge and I filled her pussy with cum, rope after rope. As my dick started to go down, I stayed inside her laying on top of her kissing her neck and sucking on her titties. She never moved or made a sound, so as my dick started to harden again I pulled out of her, raised her legs high and wide and with the cum oozing out of her pussy and running down to her asshole I started working my dick into her asshole. She was so tight at first, but then with a little push I was in, she let out a little whimper when it first went in but that was it. I kept working my dick in and out short strokes until I was all the way in. After a few longer strokes, I pulled my dick all the way out, then shoved right back in, that felt amazing watching her asshole stretch around my dick. I would pull my dick out and watch as her hole was gaped a little bit, it would open and close open and close until it closed all the way. This was so cool I did this at least ten times, it was just so hot.  So with my dick buried deep in moms ass, I put her legs up on my shoulders, reached up and gripped both of those long titties, and using them as leverage started banging her asshole until shooting another huge wad of cum in her.

I was pretty worn out after that, so I turned mom on her side and just spooned her with my dick in between her glorious ass cheecks. After a little while my dick got hard again, so I just slipped in into her pussy, she was so hot and wet still, but somewhere during spoon fucking her, I must have fallen asleep.

I wake up and start to panic a little and decide I better pull out and get out of her room, but when I start to pull out mom says you might as well finish what you started (HOLY SHIT) she is awake!!! So I started mumbling trying to make excusses when she said, OH YOU are going to have to explain this!! Well I couldn’t finish, my dick went totally limp and pops out of her pussy. Mom gets up and goes to the bathroom and starts to pee, she yells at me holy hell how many times did you cum in me? I’ve got cum in my pussy and in my ass again! It took me a while to figure out that it must have been you that filled me with cum on NYE also.

Mom I can explain. Explain, explain what how you took advantage of your own drunk mother? Well yeah, I couldn’t help myself, it had been so long since I had had sex and there you were naked and all SHIT mom I don’t know what to say I just couldn’t resist the chance.

Well get in the shower and get cleaned up. We can talk about this while I make breakfast, I’m starving. When I got out of the shower I put on some loose boxers and went into the kitchen. Mom was making breakfast wearing a thin gown that was all but completely see through. As I sat there watching her cook and checking her out through the gown my dick started getting hard again. As she walked over to put the eggs in my plate she could see my hard dick making a tent in my shorts. She said, what is that, didn’t you get enough last night?