ROBIN  
Story Codes: MF, Consensual, Mature



ROBIN      
by Michael Dykstra
 

In comes this colossal, lifted Chevy Suburban with spotless chrome rims.  It pulls up to pump 2 and
as I'm trying to penetrate the tinted windows to catch a glimpse of the driver at a near impossible
angle, the driver door opens and it's her.

  I had not yet met Ms. Horton, though I had seen her on several previous occasions while waiting
in line at the bank.  Instead of staring at the occupied tellers with a sense of urgency, stressing
over my place in line as I always did, I directed my attention solely on her enticingly wicked curves.  
She was talking on her cell like she was every other time I had seen her.  Sounded like business
from what I could ear out.  She drove past Tyler's house once, waving, while we were skating out
front, this time in her BMW,  and upon recognizing her I immediately asked who she was.

  “That's Robin.  Robin Horton... Bree’s Mom,” he replied with a casual air.

  “No shit.  That's Bree’s Mom.  I heard she was pretty hot, but I didn't know she was banging,” I
said.

  My vision was framed just like it would've been had this scene been filmed on a Hollywood set.  
Working from the gasoline stained concrete upward, covering her entire body with equal
attentiveness my gaze studiously devoured her flawless form.  She wore white platform sandals
with leather slits covering most of her bare feet, stopping just shy of the toes as I could make out
her crimson painted toenails.  Tight blue-gray Bongo jeans wound her curvaceous form taught like
shrink-wrap.  A glossy, pearl colored spaghetti strap shirt covered just enough to where her ample
breasts were revealing a fair amount of cleavage towards the upper region and her firm abdomen
was on display below.  A silver necklace lay dangling just above that crevice of absolute wonder.  
Her copper tan complexion appeared legitimate and natural.  I pictured her the nude sunbathing
type.  She wore her hair down, highlit streaks balancing the natural auburn color.  Alluring, sharp
eyebrows fixated above those deep jade, compelling cat eyes.  Her lips, glossed with a rosy hue,
seemed to sparkle, either from glitter or perhaps from the sun's rays glistening off their exquisite
smoothness.  There was a tiny brown beauty mark between the bottom of her nose and upper lip,
off center to the left.  I wasn't sure if it was painted on to mimic Cindy Crawford's or what, but it
caught my attention and that was probably its point.

  She approached my glass booth that had been my cellblock for the summer.  I worked at the 76
station where I sold mainly gas, snacks, sodas, and smokes.  My finger moved down to activate
the intercom bottom, which was my way of communicating with the customer through the
bulletproof glass.

  “Hello Ms. How can I help you today?”  My eyes were focused on her face at first, but quickly
dropped and were now centered on her breasts which were staring right at me.  It was obvious and
that's what I was going for.  I wanted her to know that I was looking.

  “Hi,” she replied.  With a delayed reaction, my gaze moved away from the ripe, fruitful melons
back to her lips, which quickly pulled up with a smile.   “Could I get 50 on whatever pump that is
right there?”

  “No problem.”  I knew what I had to do.

  “By the way Ms. Horton, I just wanna say that I think you're absolutely beautiful.  I'm friends with
Tyler and I know your daughter, Bree.”  My gaze shot back down to her breasts again and
returned.  “I mean, women your age rarely look so attractive, and certainly most don't have nearly
the gorgeous body that you have.  Seriously.”

  “THANK YOU SWEETIE.  I'm so flattered.  And what's your name?  You're sure cute.”

  “Eric…Eric Darcey.”

  “Well, Eric, you just made my day.”

   “Likewise Ms. Horton.”  Her eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly.

  “Well I gotta get going.  Later honey.”

  “Later Ms. Horton.”

  I wanted her to think I wanted her, which I'm sure I achieved at that point, but I didn't want to
bother her.  So I discontinued my objectifying stares as she began to pump.

  It would be another 6 months before I would run into Ms. Horton again.  But before that, I would
have to run into Bree Horton.  Bree had a party on New Years that year at a hotel room rented out
at a nearby Travel Lodge.  She had always caught my eye, but I didn't know if it had something to
do with my continued infatuation with her mother or not.  In any event, I was roughly 8 beers deep
and I asked her if she wanted to go out in the halls so we could make out at midnight.  She thought
I was joking, but I wasn't and as I took her hand she willfully followed.  We made out, then walked
up 2 stories, and made out more.  Then I fingered her on the hallway carpet.  No one was around,
probably because it was New Years.  An hour later the party was broken up 'cause I guess the
cops came when we were fooling around.  We left and I was invited to stay the night 'cause her
mom was out.  From then on, Bree and I had sort of a thing.  We never went out, but you could call
us friends with benefits.  As I came closer to Bree, I thus came closer to Robin, the true source of
my infatuations and fantasies.

  The next summer, I was at the Horton house more than my own.  Tyler had been a close family
friend to the Horton's and we had become pretty good friends.

  Robin always let us drink over there.  She acted as if she were responsible enough to make sure
we didn't drive, but she was usually drunk already and her enforcement was basically non-
existent.  She let Tyler and I take out her Suburban and we'd go all over town with a fat carload of
us just drinking.  She was like the mother I never had and never wanted for fear that I might
actually question whether or not I would want to sleep with my own mother.  She always wore
clothes that were fashionable more to our generation than hers.  Because we'd be over there all
the time drinking the beer she would buy us and eating the family's food, we were sort of her
lackeys.  Whatever she asked of me I did without a thought.  I wanted to be her slave.

  Thus, that summer, I came to know Robin.  I learned she owned her own landscaping business
that she had started all on her own.  She was quite wealthy and being around the house on
Christmas only proved that further.  She easily spent a thousand dollars on each of her kids.  She
had been married twice.  She had two children with one husband, one with the other.  She had a
boyfriend, but as I later found out, that didn't mean anything.  She rode dirt bikes every spring at
Ocotillo Wells and loved her children, God, and her poodles very dearly.

  So one evening, 'cause at this point Tyler lives with the Horton’s, literally, he and I were just
hanging out eating frozen pizzas, drinking some MGD's and watching Sportscenter when Robin
came home with some of her girlfriends.  Bree and the other kids were visiting their fathers who
now lived out of town and would be gone for the weekend.  Robin and her two friends came in the
kitchen and she introduced her friends, who by the way look pretty damn good but not Robin
good.  They all looked as if they had already been drinking.  Robin especially seemed a bit tipsy
as she threw open the freezer door and loudly fumbled around, fishing out a chilled handle of
Absolute.

  As she got out some glasses I, being a lover of vodka, asked her for a shot.

  “But you got a beer honey.  You shouldn't mix.  Plus, honey, you probably couldn't hang,” she
said this jokingly but I knew she half-believed it.

  “Oh...couldn't hang my ass.  I'm a college student Robin, believe me, I know how to drink.”  I
grabbed the bottle off the table, poured a doubled shot and quickly gulped it down.

  “Seriously, Robin, this kid can drink, especially vod.  Shit I'll put money down that Eric will drink
you under the table,” Tyler said.

  “Well, we'll just have to see about that.  It's the ladies versus the boys.  We're gonna have a
drinking contest,” Robin concluded.  They were already faded, Robin's half slurred speech gave
that away so Tyler and I were pretty confident that we would out drink them.  And eventually, that's
just what we did.

  We're basically all fucked up by 10 o’clock.  We're telling jokes and they're telling us about some
of their lame old boyfriends and some other naughty tales.  This was an entirely new thing for me,
attractive older women getting drunk with me and talking about sex.

  “You see, there's definitely a big difference between making love and sport fucking,” Robin
started.  “Now, what you and Bree do, or so I've heard, is sport fuck.  She knows you don't like her
all that much and I know she doesn't even like you that much either.”  This was basically true.  It
was purely physical with her and we both knew that which is why it worked.  “Now what I want is a
man that can do both on demand.  Bryan, all he does is make love to me.  I mean sometimes that's
what I want, but other times I just wanna sport fuck it!”

  “You go girl,” added Lauren, the friend that looked like Paula Abdul.

  “Well, perhaps what you need, Robin, is a young stud like myself who knows when to make love
and when to sport fuck, as you put it.  I mean what's this Bryan guy really got on me?”

  “I was hoping you'd say that honey.  'Cause now we're just gonna have to find that out.”

  “Okay.  I'm, ready when you are.” As much as I wanted to believe her and as much as I was
being completely serious, I thought there was no way it would actually happen.  One, I'm sleeping
with her daughter.  Two, She's about double my age.  Three, why me?  Four, seriously, me?

  “Then let's go.”  By this time, Tyler, Lauren, and Shirley were egging on Robin.  Lauren took off
her shirt and I guess Tyler was about to get his 'cause Robin had already grabbed me and we
both stumbled upstairs, rather intoxicated.

  That night she wanted to sport fuck, that night that's what we did.  I had officially become a true
mother fucker and it was with the hottest mother I've ever seen.
 

Copyright© 2009 Michael Dykstra


Michael Dykstra is twenty-four years old and currently lives in South Lake Tahoe.  He is a
graduate of the Univeristy of Oregon and has interned at Northwest Review.  For more information
please visit  
www.redroom.com/member/steppenwolf9