I thought I was Alone ...
I didn't think that my adult son's friends would come by to see if he was home!
Here goes ...
by Steph
If I don't laugh about it, I'll cry forever 😜☺️. Picture this: it's a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, the kind where the sun is just begging you to soak it up. I'm a busy mom, right? Between work, keeping the house from looking like a tornado hit it, and making sure my grown son, Jake, doesn't live off instant ramen, I rarely get a moment to myself. So, I decide to treat myself to some "me time" in the backyard. You know, catch some rays, work on my tan, pretend I'm a carefree 20-something again. Big mistake. HUGE.
I set up my little oasis: a lounge chair, a frosty lemonade, my favorite books, and my trusty tanning oil. The yard is my sanctuary—fenced in, private, or so I thought. Jake was out, probably at some gaming marathon with his buddies, so I figured I had the place to myself. I slip into my bikini-okay, it's a little bold; it's the one my husband got me for 'special' vacations alone. It is practically see through and my nipples were definitely visible, but hey, I'm alone, it's my backyard, and I'm feeling sassy. I slather on the oil, pop on my sunglasses, and I'm living my best life, flipping through a magazine and humming along to "I Want It That Way," as my body feels good and my breasts start to swell a bit.
Now, let me set the scene. Our backyard is nice, but it's not, like, Buckingham Palace gardens. The gate's a little creaky, and the fence is tall enough that I never worry about nosy neighbors. I'm lying there, all shiny and relaxed, when I hear this faint creak. I think, "Oh, probably just the wind or a squirrel." I don't even open my eyes. Then I hear ... voices. Male voices. Young male voices. My brain's like, "Hold up, that's not Jake." But before I can process, I hear, "Yo, is Jake back here?"
My eyes snap open, and I swear my heart does a triple backflip. There, strolling through the gate like they own the place, are three of Jake's friends-Matt, Ryan, and that new guy, Kyle, who I've only met once. These are not random strangers; these are the guys who've been raiding my fridge since they were in middle school. And they're about to get an eyeful of me, 42-year-old Linda, glistening like a rotisserie chicken in a bikini that's definitely not designed for public viewing.
I panic. Like, full-on, deer-in-headlights panic. I grab my magazine-because apparently, I think a copy of Better Homes & Gardens is going to shield me like Captain America's vibranium shield-and try to cover myself. But here's the thing: tanning oil makes you slippery. The magazine slips out of my hands, flutters dramatically to the ground, and lands on a picture of a prize-winning zucchini. I'm now exposed, nipples and all, oily, and staring at a vegetable. Perfect.
"Uh... Mrs. Thompson?" Matt says, his voice cracking like he's 13 again. Ryan's eyes are the size of dinner plates, and Kyle-oh, poor Kyle-looks like he's trying to decide if he should run or just spontaneously combust. I'm scrambling to grab the towel that's just out of reach, and in my flailing, I knock over my lemonade, which splashes everywhere, making me look like I've just competed in a wet T-shirt contest. I'm yelling, "Don't look! Don't look!" but of course, they're looking. They're trying not to, bless their hearts, but it's like telling someone not to stare at a car crash.
I finally snag the towel, wrap it around myself like I'm auditioning for a toga party, and stand up, trying to muster some dignity. "Boys!" I say, way too loudly, like I'm channeling a drill sergeant. "What are you doing here?" My voice is shaking, and I'm pretty sure my face is redder than the sunburn I'm about to have.
Matt, who's always been the spokesman of the group, stammers, "We, uh, we just came to see if Jake was home. He said he might be back by now." Ryan's nodding like a bobblehead, and Kyle's still frozen, clutching his phone like it's his lifeline. I'm thinking, "Great, Jake, you couldn't text me a heads-up that your posse was dropping by?"
I try to play it cool, because what else can I do? "Jake's not here," I say, clutching my towel like it's the only thing keeping me from vanishing into the ether. "You can ... wait inside if you want." But my voice cracks on "inside," and now I sound like I'm inviting them to a seance. They mumble something about coming back later and walk SLOWLY back through the gate, leaving me standing there, a greasy, humiliated mess.
I collapse back onto the lounge chair, towel and all, and just stare at the sky. I'm torn between laughing and digging a hole to live in forever. I mean, these kids have seen me in mom mode-yelling at them to take off their muddy shoes, making them pancakes at 2 a.m. after a LAN party, lecturing them about not putting empty milk cartons back in the fridge. And now? Now they're 19 years old and they've seen me channeling my inner Baywatch reject. There's no coming back from this. On top of that ... I remember that the back of my bikini is almost a thong, and when I turned to grab my towel they must have seen my whole ass! Ass and nipples! My body was frozen. What did they notice? I know I was flush, but were my nipples hard? Oh boy ...
Jake gets home about an hour later, and I'm still in the backyard, fully clothed now, sipping a new lemonade and trying to erase the last hour from my brain. I tell him what happened, and this kid-my own flesh and blood-laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his energy drink. "Mom, you're a legend," he says, which is not the comfort he thinks it is. I make him swear not to tell his friends I know they saw me, but I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed. By Monday, I'm expecting this to be a meme in their group chat. The new Stiffler's Mom
So, here's my advice,: if you're going to tan in your yard, triple-check that your kid's friends don't have a key to the gate. Or maybe just change it altogether like I am. I want to be able to be sassy sometimes, and have my yard be like The Great British Bake Off where no one can walk in on me. Send help. And wine. Mostly wine.
P.S. Confession; I was thinking about being fully nude at one point, and if they walked in 1 hour later ...
Truth or Dare! - Pizza Dares - True Stories - Sexy Cams - Cuckold Stories - Cam Girls - Embarrassed Girls! - Chat Rooms - Sex Personals
Truth or Dare | Nude Amateurs | Real MILFs | Real MILF Dating | MILF | Dare Party | MILF Mature | Naked Hot MILFs | MILF Dating | Naked Horny MILFs | Free MILF Moms | Real Hot Milfs | Nude MILFs | Video Chat | Find a Nude MILF | Cuckys | Cuckold | Dating | Sex in Your Area | Real Horny MILFs | Hot Cams | Cuckold Dating | Cuck Stories | Cuckold Blog | BDSM Personals | Bum Kiss | Real Stories | Free Chat | Post Your Wife | Cam Dares | Pizza Dares | Cuckold Stories | Naked Moms | Hot Moms Dating | Bare Butts | Bare Boobs | Classifieds | Naked Pics | Horny Hot MILFs | Adult Sex Dating | Meet Hot MILFs |