Şubat 27, 2024


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The setting is Holland Patent, New York, a sleepy little town outside of Utica, and the year is 2001.


Chapter One: My best friend’s mother.

“I swear Robbie, if you tell anybody about what I’m going to show you, I’ll fucking kill you,” Ted warned me, and judging my the veins bulging in his neck and the crimson color of his face, he probably meant it.

The madman look was something that Ted had inherited from his father, a hothead who had abandoned ship many years ago, leaving Ted and his mother to fend for themselves while he went to make other people’s lives miserable, I assumed.

At least that was my opinion, and I kept it to myself because it wasn’t one that Ted shared or appreciated. As far as Ted Price was concerned, Warren Price was a god who walked on water, and had every right to leave.

Ted felt that way, at least to my way of thinking, because when his old man left his mother was stuck with the job of being both mother and father. Because she had to be the villain in terms of discipline, and because Ted was far from being an angel, he felt his mother was a miserable shrew.

His father waltzed into his life from time to time, and Ted seemed to think that because he took him to a ballgame or a movie once in a while, he was a great father. I didn’t see it that way, and told him so once. Ted, being a far bigger and stronger kid than me, kicked my ass big time for offending his worthless old man, so I never mentioned it again, but it was worth it. Warren Price was a vile sack of garbage, and I knew that Ted would figure that out someday, if he didn’t suspect it already.

So when Ted made me swear that I would never say anything about what he was about to show me, I took it to heart. I knew that it was about his mother, so it wasn’t likely to be anything positive, but I nodded and watched him hitting the keys while waiting for the screen to light up.

“Check this shit out!” Ted crowed as he brought up the home page of this website that was called Finding Love.

It was a dating service or something along those lines, and Ted scanned through the numerous ads before stopping and pointing at the screen.

“Ain’t that hilarious?” he asked me, while stepping aside and letting me see the picture of the woman who I knew very well.

Ted’s mother.

“What’s so funny about that?” I asked.

“How fucking desperate can you get?” Ted snapped.

“I don’t know. How did you find the ad, anyway? Looking for a date yourself? It isn’t like you’re all that popular either.”

“She wrote something down and left it in the desk, so I checked it out and saw her puss,” Ted declared. “Look at that picture! It’s like 10 years old!”

“So what?”

“So if some desperate asshole actually does hook up with her, when he shows up and gets a look at her now, his dick will shrivel up fast,” Ted announced. “Although I can’t imagine anybody wanting to tap her sorry ass to begin with.”

“Well, she was good enough for your father for a long time,” I suggested.

“He wised up though,” Ted said. “You should see the pussy he’s banging now. I’d do that broad in a minute. And check out what she’s looking for!”

Under the various listings, Ted’s mother had left them all with the default listing of “any”, and this got Ted fuming.

“Looking for a nice man,” Ted scoffed. “Any age, race, height, weight, religion – you know what that says? It says she will fuck anything with a cock.”

Ted then proceeded to loudly suggest the various people that were likely to answer an ad for someone that looked like his mother, rattling off a series of degrading descriptions of people of different races and creeds, but I had stopped listening.

Instead I just looked at the picture of a sad eyed Rose Price, circa 1990 or so, as she sat back at the picnic table that still sat in their backyard today. A woman who looked no more or less lonely today than she did in that photo.

“Thank god I’ll be in college soon, and won’t have to watch the parade of desperate old coots coming up to the door to screw the bitch,” Ted said.

“I think someday you’ll regret the stuff you say about your Mom,” I suggested as Ted killed the computer.

“I think not,” Ted said. “Shit Robbie, the way you think she’s such hot shit, you ought to take a shot at her. You’re almost as desperate as she is! Just put a bag over her head, and one over yours too just in case hers falls off!”

Ted slugged me affectionately after that, assuring me that he was only kidding, but we both knew that he wasn’t. The truth was that I was a disaster with girls, and we both knew it.

The other truth was, and this was something that Ted was definitely NOT aware of, was that there was somebody who liked his mother a whole lot, and that somebody was me.

And saying that I liked Rose Price was not a proper choice of words either. I liked Jim Kelly and the Buffalo Bills, the banana fudge ice cream at Carvel, and the bear cubs at the Utica Zoo. Rose Price? Her, I loved.


Chapter Two: Love grows. canlı bahis şirketleri

I went home and went to the Finding Love website and stared at the picture for a good long time, which depressed me a great deal. It seemed like Ted was right about his mother putting an ad on this website being an act of desperation, and I hoped that nobody she knew ever saw the ad.

I wasn’t very familiar with dating websites, but it seemed like most of the ads on this particular site were for people looking for sex, not relationships, and the way she had written her ad was very tame compared to most of the others.

After giving the matter a lot of thought I decided to something to cheer Ted’s mother up, so using the credit card I had just gotten after graduating from high school last month, I spent $25 for a two month membership in this dating service.

It took me all night to compose a response to Rose’s ad, and after I had finished the brief paragraph I looked it over for several minutes before sending it on to “Miss Hopeful”, which was the name Rose Price was going by.

“Dear Miss Hopeful,” I had written. “I saw your ad and I felt I had to write you and tell you what a lovely woman you are, but I’m sure you hear that a lot. If you would like to write me back, I would love to hear from you.”

I signed it with the name I had chosen for myself, Jim Kelly, and figured I would check back in a couple of days to see if she replied. As it turned out, I had gotten an answer that very evening.

When I saw a message in my box, my fingers were shaking as I clicked on it, and in contrast to my brief note, Rose was very wordy as seemed excited as well.

“Dear Mr. Kelly,” Rose wrote. “Thank you for your nice note in responding to my ad. I know I’m not very pretty, especially compared to a lot of the women with pictures on that website, but I liked reading those nice things you wrote a lot.

I went to see your ad but I saw that yours didn’t really have any information on it, and I’m dying to know something about you. Won’t you please tell me a little bit about yourself?”

I hurriedly crafted a brief response, explaining that I had just joined the website and was a little afraid about putting personal information about myself for all to see until I got a better idea about how I was supposed to do things, having never done this before.

At the end of the message I suggested that if she wanted to, we could chat via instant messenger, and gave her my address to use. The next day, Rose replied that she understood about not wanting to put things about myself on the ad because she had felt the same way.

Rose said that she didn’t know what instant messaging was, but promised to figure out how to sign up and get back to me. The next day she sent me another message and suggested that we chat the next evening at 8. At 7:30 that night I was sitting in front of the computer with my heart racing and my hands shaking.


Chapter Three: Hello Miss Hopeful.

I didn’t want to appear too anxious but at ten minutes to 8 the pressure got too great for me and I sent Rose a message.

Me: Hello Miss Hopeful?

The answer came back almost immediately.

Rose: Mr. Kelly?

Me: Call me Jim, please.

Rose: Okay, Jim. My name is Rose. Short for Rosemary.

Me: I’m Jim – short for James.

Rose: You aren’t the football player Jim Kelly, are you?

Yikes! I didn’t think Ted’s Mom knew anything about football, so I quickly answered no, but I heard that a lot.

Rose: I’ll bet you do. My son used to have a football jersey with his name on it.

Me: Oh, you have a son?

Rose: Yes, he’s 18 and heading out to the Midwest for college soon, so I’ll be an empty nest-er. How about you Jim? Any children?

I told Rose that I had no children, and quickly reached for a pen and paper, taking down notes so that I didn’t trip myself up with my lies. Having no children and never being married seemed like a way to keep it simple.

Rose: How old are you? If you don’t mind my asking that is.

How old was I going to be? Damn, I should have thought about that before now, I thought as I frantically tried to make up this imaginary character.

Me: I thought your ad said you didn’t care about age. Ha ha. I’m 36.

Immediately I realized that I should have been older. How old was Ted’s Mom? Forty maybe? My Mom was 44.

Rose: Oh. I’m quite a bit older than you are then.

Me; Really? I thought you were about my age judging by your photo.

Rose: Flatterer. That picture is a bit old. I’m 48.

Me: Oh. Does that mean I’m disqualified?

That was a stupid choice of words, but the message was gone.

Rose: Oh no. Not at all. It’s just that I can’t imagine why a man your age would be interested in somebody that’s 48.

Shit. Think fast dude, I told myself. I wrote back, telling Rose that I didn’t think age was more than a number, and frankly I had always preferred the company of women older than myself.

That line about age was canlı kaçak iddaa something my grandmother used to say, and whether it was that or my saying that I like older women, it seemed to right my shaky boat of lies for the time being.

Rose: Well, I’m older all right.

Me: But you don’t look it. I mean that. I find you very attractive.

Rose: Like I said, the picture is a few years old.

Me; Then I’m sure you’re even more beautiful now. They say women and wine improve with age.

Rose: Oh boy. You’re a slick one.

I told her that I wasn’t being funny. I was being honest, and while my thinking Rose was pretty was the truth, it was about the only honest thing I had said thus far.

Rose: I’m a secretary for an insurance company. What do you do for a living?

Oh brother. What did I want to be? Doctor? Lawyer? Keep it simple.

Me: I’m in construction.

Oh well, at least I could make up stuff that I knew a little about, since my old man was in the business. I wasn’t sure that my answer would excite Rose, but it apparently did.

Rose: Construction? You must be a big strong fella. Do you have a picture you could send me. Just for me?

A picture? A picture of a big strong man whose only real construction was the web of lies I had built? I told her that I would try and find one and send it to her before we chatted next time.

Rose: You mean there will be a next time?

Me: Sure, why not?

We made a date to chat again the same time the next night, which gave me some time to find a picture of somebody to use. Someone not TOO good looking, but at least somebody that wasn’t 5’8″ and 130 pounds, with a horse face and some faint acne scars.


Chapter Four: My Uncle Steve.

That was the guy I was going to be, I decided after perusing every picture I had access to. We had gone to a circus when I was younger and my Aunt Effie had taken pictures of us individually as well as together outside the arena. Not a real handsome guy, but decent enough looking for me to pretend to be, and so I was anxious to find out what she thought of me.

Rose: Jim? I got your picture. You’re a very good looking man.

Me: I am?

Rose: Yes you are. Is that the War Memorial Auditorium you’re standing in front of in that picture?

Damn. Rose wasn’t missing anything, and I thought I had cropped everything out. I told her that she was right, and that I had been at a trade show a couple of years ago and I had always liked that photo a friend had taken of me.

Rose: I know your ad said you lived in Central New York too, but that covers a lot of area. Maybe we’re neighbors.

I told her that I didn’t think so, because if I had seen any woman that pretty I would have noticed her long ago.

Rose: You are something. I live in Holland Patent. Do you know where that is?

Me: Sure do. I’m in Utica.

Rose: This is exciting. I’ve been trying this dating service for so long, and you’re only the third person to contact me that wrote back more than once.

Me: I guess I’m lucky then.

Rose: We’ll see about that. Do you think we could meet in person?

Because I’m such an idiot, this was something I hadn’t really thought of, I realized too late. I was hoping to just chat with Rose, like pen pals, and I should have had myself living farther away from Rose than 10 miles.

Of course we would meet, I said, but explained that our company was doing a big project near Rochester and I would be out there for a couple of weeks. After that? For sure.

Rose: Then I guess I’ll have to keep looking at your picture for a while.

Me: Me too. Too bad that your picture doesn’t show me any more than your face. I would love to see your body.

Why I said that, I didn’t know. Maybe it was from seeing some of the other ads on the website and the sexy pictures some of the women had. I knew Rose would never put anything like that on an ad of hers, but for some reason I wanted to get the conversation headed in a more provocative direction.

Rose: Uh-oh.

Me: What do you mean?

Rose: That was how I got the first man to stop exchanging notes with me. Is that your way of asking me to send you pictures of me naked?

Naked? Rose Price? A picture of Rose Price naked would be something I would give anything for. Even though I had peeked down her blouse and around her sleeve holes all my life, an actual picture would be something to cherish forever.

No, I replied. What I meant was just a picture of her like the photo I had sent of myself – or rather my Uncle Steve. Just one of her standing with clothes on. Of course, I added with a winking emoticon, if she had any naked pictures of herself I would be happy to see them.

Rose: You know, I got so interested in the first man I started chatting with like this, that he had me – never mind.

What did he have you do, I wanted to know? The thought of Rose doing anything sexy suddenly intrigued me a lot.

Rose: Well, it seemed so juvenile that it’s embarrassing to think canlı kaçak bahis that I actually did what I did. We were exchanging some pretty risque comments, and all of a sudden he asked me to send him a picture of myself naked.

I felt my cock stiffen at the thought of seeing a picture of Rose naked, and had to find out whether or not she did what he asked.

Rose: I told him that I could never do anything like that, but he persisted in asking. It seemed like he was suggesting that if I showed him mine he would show me his. You know? Kid stuff like that? When I said that, he sent me a picture of himself, from the waist down.

Me: Oh. What did you do?

Rose: He suggested that if I didn’t want to send me a picture of myself naked, I should just send him one of myself with my blouse pulled up.

Me: Did you do that?

Rose: Yes, I did. I know what you must think of me now.

Me: Not at all.

Rose: My face wasn’t showing or anything like that.

Me: So did he like what he saw?

Rose: I don’t think so. He stopped writing to me after that.

Me: Maybe something happened to him or his computer went down.

Rose: I doubt it. I warned him that I didn’t have much on top before I sent it, and he said he didn’t care. When I look at it, I can understand why a man would lose interest. Compared to all of the other women who put their pictures in there, I’m pretty pathetic.

Me: I suspect that many of those pictures aren’t really the people they claim to be. Probably taken from porn sites or something. I’m sure you look nice.

Rose: My husband used to tell me I needed implants.

Me: Nobody needs implants. Besides, I love small breasts. Anything more than a handful is a waste. Still, I would love to see that picture though.

Rose: Let me think about it for a bit.

Me: I understand why you wouldn’t want to. You have no reason to trust me.

Rose: Maybe I will. After all, there’s no sense wasting your time. You’ll see me me anyway. Probably better to get hurt on-line than in person. Check your mailbox.

Chapter Five: Rose exposed.

I quickly went over to the e-mail account that I had sent my picture through to her and waited impatiently for Rose’s picture to arrive. Five – ten minutes went by, and as I stared at the screen my dick got hard and my shirt got drenched from perspiration.

When the message popped up in front of me, I almost fell out of my chair from shock, and with trembling fingers I brought up the attachment, which Rose had labeled ‘You’ll be sorry’.

I came. As I gaped open mouthed at the image of Rose my hand went down to the bulge in my shorts, and I immediately ejaculated, filling my underwear with what felt like a copious amount of my seed while I bent over the keyboard and rode out the orgasm.

Sitting in front of the computer, I kept staring at Rose’s picture while the smell of my cum rose from the gooey cauldron between my legs, and I came to the conclusion that it was hands-down the most erotic photo I had ever seen, and that included all the old porn mags my old man thought he had safely hidden in our attic.

I’m certain that to anyone else, the picture wouldn’t merit a second look, and I can understand why. In this age of silicone-enhanced bimbos, a photo of a middle aged woman holding up her blouse to expose her small and slightly sagging breasts would likely be dismissed or even derided with a critical comment.

For me though, this wasn’t just some old woman who had seen better days. This was Rose Price, and while I felt a little sad as I thought about her needing to pose like that, and felt guilty about getting her to send it to me, my lust overwhelmed all of my shame and guilt.

Those breasts – how many times I had tried to get glimpses of them – and there they were. Smaller than I had always pictured them in my mind, they were about the size and shape of pears, and they looked like they were just starting to flatten out a bit on her chest in addition to drooping a little. Strangely enough, these signs of age only made the photo more erotic to me.

Her nipples were really nice though, dark crimson in color with aureoles about the size of silver dollars. The picture was so clear that I could recognize the shirt she had pulled up to her neck – one that they gave away at local race track – and if the had just held the shirt up a little higher I could have seen more than just the fringe of the faint stubble under her arms.

Even Rose’s armpits were works of art, and I had worshipped them for years. Usually smooth, but occasionally with a light coating of peach fuzz, either way I always looked at those gently sloped hollows whenever the opportunity presented itself.

I hopped back over to the instant messenger, hoping that Rose would be waiting for my message. How long had I stared at that picture, anyway? Long enough for me to start to get another erection, I noticed.

Me: Rose?

Rose: Oh. Hi. Didn’t really expect to hear from you again.

Me: Why not?

Rose: The picture.

Me: I think you’re beautiful.

Rose: You don’t have to say that.

Me: Yes I do. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. I swear.

Rose: Well, even if you’re putting me on, I still like hearing you say that. Gave me goose bumps.

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