The splashing outside the kitchen window was punctuated by laughter and yelling that filled the large, lush backyard. Music from a speaker thrummed just low enough for Layla to catch an occasional chorus or strain, but not enough to sing along. It was her playlist, so it was heavy on 80's glam metal, new wave, and other songs that made the summer afternoons that much sweeter.
She opened the door to some familiar reggae as her daughter Stacy danced on the warm concrete. Her riot of soft black curls tied up in a high ponytail, she was in her favorite neon blue bikini that showed off the curves her mother remembered having back in the day, BC (before children). As the bronze in her skin ripened in the sun, the blue in the string triangles had faded to almost transparent, though not enough to be indecent, but it was so old it never left the house. With a pool in the backyard, that wasn't normally an issue.
Not that Layla was some withered husk left to languish past her prime. At 5'6 barefoot and a frame that skewed closer to the voluptuous than her daughter with the volleyball scholarship, the comparisons were noticeable enough. At least to her, though she freely conceded that since she spent most of her time in scrubs and on her feet, she might not be the best judge.
Stacy looked up when the door opened, a wide smile on her beautiful face. "Hey Momma!"
Choruses of 'Hey Dr C!' went up from the occupants of the water, and Layla waved in their direction with what she hoped passed for a grin on her face. She was doing her best not to look too hard at the boys in her pool arguing over a pool noodle. Steve and James, Stacy's childhood friends who'd definitely ascended out of childhood.
The boys were a year ahead of Stacy in school, but they lived on the same block since her family moved to the neighborhood back in the second grade. Thus a friendship of skinned knees treehouses, and shenanigans was born.
James Barnes—Bucky to his friends, and Layla refused to call him that—was the blue-eyed neighborhood hero. He had always been a big kid, heartbreaker material from pretty much birth. Taller than Stacy or Steve until fairly recently, he was the protector of the two, in more fights than not, but always for a good cause.
To be truthful, Layla had fixed more than one fat lip and busted knuckle on him over the years. His eyes were bewitching, bright steel blue, luminous, with plushly pink lips made for sin and a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. With his dark, unruly curls and a smile that got him into and out of trouble in equal measure, he was the yin to Steve's yang.
Stevie Rogers had always been the neighborhood chihuahua who had the heart of a lion. The tiny, thin blond with a whole host of health problems had a sense of justice and a fighting spirit that no one could contain, though bless James for trying. There were no bullies on their block, nor the two or three surrounding, for a very good reason. The short blond with pointy elbows and a penchant for black eyes and the occasional split lip let no crimes go unavenged and had no problem standing up for what he felt was right, even if that meant James had to take the brunt of the brawl for him.
Thankfully for them both, in the last year Steve's body had grown to match his spirit.
Somehow in the past twelve months or so, little Stevie Rogers was now just Steve, with the appropriate dreamy sigh afterwards. A couple inches over six feet, his formerly thin frame had filled out to Achillean proportions, achieving panty-melting status with his muscular stature, sharp jaw and perfect cheekbones. He'd managed to exceed James in height by a little ways, but their broad, brawny shoulders and thick thighs were definite echoes of one another.
Not that she was looking.
And she wasn't, really. With a great deal of effort. As hard as it was not to notice, it wasn't exactly appropriate for her to think too much about the men they'd become. Just because the guys had turned 19 and had a year of college did not make that line of thinking, much less action, appropriate. They were her daughter's friends and that was it.
The teens were celebrating the last few days of freedom before the boys shipped off to their internships at the Art Institute and Stark Industries, and Stace headed off to Michigan to spend the month with her father. The very idea of having the house to herself was mind-blowing, though it was a good test run for when Stace left for college in a couple months. It was time to learn how to be alone, and single, for the first time since her freshman year of college, herself.
"Hey Bug! I just threw some lemonade and some iced tea in the fridge, so if you all need drinks, they're there and there's cash on the counter if you kids want to order a pizza or something." She'd worked the night before in the OR as a trauma surgeon and was damn near dead on her feet, so there'd be no making lunch or dinner that night, not when she needed sleep so damn badly. Plus feeding the kids was her way of showing love, so it worked out. "I'm gonna go upstairs and crash out for a bit."
Her not-so-little girl danced over with a big grin and threw her arms around her neck. "Thanks, Mama. Sleep well, dream of butterflies."
Layla's heart warmed at the little throwback to Stacy's childhood before she disappeared into the cool, dark interior of the house. It was honestly more house than she needed, regal and stately with marble and hardwood floors, tall, coffered ceilings, and dramatic sweeping staircase in the front foyer, as her ex thought a doctor's house should be, but still not quite her taste. The one redeeming feature, though, was that she'd gotten it in the divorce, which had been fair considering her former spouse got his 28-year-old secretary in the deal. And the Jag, for which she was still quite bitter.
She could have moved, but Stacy was settled. Her school was here, her friends Steve and James were here. With all the upheaval of her parents separating, it seemed cruel to add a change of address to that. So she made her own peace with the situation and bided her time.
Over the years, she'd come to love the pool, the giant kitchen she didn't get to use often enough, but her absolutely favorite feature of the house was the giant bathtub in her ensuite. It was big enough to soak in, where her knees and shoulders could both be submerged at the same time, and overlooked the shenanigans at the pool.
Steve and James were easy to pick out, deep and lush timbres to their carefree laughter. Their voices traveled on the warm summer breezes, she closed her eyes as her fingertips circled and pinched first one nipple and then the other.
She knew she should be ashamed, or at least, that shame should play a part in this, but they weren't little boys anymore and this dark little secret was a recent development. They weren't the little boys who camped out in the their treehouse with her daughter at age nine. They were taking the first steps into adulthood pursuing their art and engineering degrees and leaving treehouse life in the past.
It was easy to let her mind wander as the hints of chlorine teased her nose from the open window. Steve, with his thick blond hair shorn to preppy perfection, inspired in Layla a desire to debauch the fuck out of him. Literally, just feel those big warm hands on her body, cupping her breasts and how good those thick fingers would feel dancing over her clit and sliding deep into her pussy. She wondered about the sounds he'd make when she got on her knees for him, took him deep in her throat and sucked his balls. Would he wind his fingers in her hair? Fuck her mouth and let absolute filth drop from his lips as he told how much he enjoyed it and how much he wanted to cover her tongue in his spend? How would he taste when he came?
Echoes of want shimmered through her as she ran her fingers down to her clit. Her pussy was slippery wet, slick to the touch even without the water, and she delighted in teasing herself before getting to the main event. Her tight channel clenched around her fingers in need. And she had just the thing to take care of that.
In a makeup bag, hidden behind the stack of towels, was her go-to relaxation aid. Bright pink silicone, imposingly thick and more than a little knobby, it slipped with her under the bubbles in the tub as she gave herself permission to misbehave a bit. With the touch of a button, her toy vibrated to life as she watched James stand on the lip of the pool and stretch in the sun with his beautifully defined arms over his head.
He was tall now, a shade over six feet, and had muscles on muscles, all perfect and on display in his clingy, dark trunks. Seemed like only yesterday that he was the sweet boy down the street who ate enough for three people and had the manners of an altarboy, and now he was a walking orgasm waiting to happen with ridged abs, strong thighs, and the sharp inverted 'v' shape of a swimmer. He was the kind of pretty that turned heads in a crowd, and watching him move was an indulgence for her as her hips began to grind against the vibrations of her toy. A tired grin passed over her lips as she pressed the tip of the vibe to her clit. The steady tremors that radiated through her were too good not to keep going.
Slipping the thick toy over her needy entrance, the bluntly rounded tip dipped inside with a low moan. It was easy to imagine Steve, with a cock sized comparably for his new form, holding her down by her wrists while he thrust in deep and hit that spot that made her gasp out loud when her back arched. She was close, skating the razor's edge of need as the waves of pleasure came stronger and faster. But it was too soon, no, and she took the toy away with a sigh, her thighs clenching as the pleasure receded once more.
When it felt more contained, she began again, with the toy vibrating against the stiff peaks of her nipples and sending waves of intense need thrumming straight to her clit. All the while, she kept her watch, this time on James, who handily levered himself out of the pool by the power of his arms alone. The drops of water catching the sunshine looked refreshing and made his muscles glimmer in the afternoon.
Rivaling Steve in height since the blond's growth spurt, he wasn't near as broad but just as honed. He was all lean, carved sinew, like Lord Byron levels of pretty and presented exactly the same amount of temptation. He could test the patience of a saint. And the saint would likely give in.
James had a grin that was made of mischief, like he knew a secret and would love to share it with you, and just you. Sometimes Layla thought she'd catch him with that smile in her direction, but again, she's Stacy's mother, and not some teenaged girl who would fall for such things. But that didn't mean that right then, her clit wasn't throbbing as she circled it with her thumb in time with the vibrator pumping in and out of her tight channel.
Thinking about the boys was no hardship at all, her mind vividly painting in their big hands and sun-warmed muscles. Would they be rough, or gentle? Would they fuck her together or one at a time? Nothing was off limits as the fantasy unspooled in her mind as her desire took hold in her. It was too easy to come, to let that tension that stayed tight in her belly snap as the heat and tremors ran through her. Gasping, their names on her lips, she thrashing in the water and continued to tease herself into two more intense releases. And if she happened to moan out loud a little bit? Well, it wasn't like anyone heard her over the music on the patio. Only then did she take a minute to get cleaned up before heading to bed.
Slipping between her butter-soft sheets naked, she heard a door bang open on the ground floor from the direction of the kitchen. Steve, he'd never ever remembered to catch a door on his way in the house. It was a secret thrill to be naked just upstairs, in the house at the same time as him, however briefly, but man, did she feel like a perv. She wasn't creeping on her daughter's friends. Regardless of her fantasies, that's all they were. Layla wasn't some cougar out to snag the young and unsuspecting neighborhood boys in her juicy pussy lair.
Her giggles at her own dramatics took her away into dreamland, soft and quiet, and finally, finally restful.