One Shots

(I couldn’t find Michael Raffl’s mom’s name anywhere, so I made one up. Alda, by the way, means ‘old’ in German, because I love a good pun.)



Among male friends there are certain women who are always off limits, sisters and ex-girlfriends being two of the most taboo. And yet, the most sacred is one that’s never mentioned - the mother. It goes without saying, unspoken guy code number one, never, ever mess with another man’s mother in any way, for good or ill.

Michael Del Zotto was well aware of this rule and believed, until recently, that it was a decent and common courtesy. That was, however, only up until he met Mrs. Alda Raffl, mother of his close friend, a man who was like a brother to him. After that…the lines between right and wrong became blurry and the questions of ethics or morality were silenced by the sound of his rapidly beating heart wherever she was near.

He first met Alda a few months ago, when she dropped off her husband, Raffl’s dad Peter, for the annual dad’s trip. Everyone was waiting at the airport and the Raffls were the last to arrive. Michael came over to the car to say hello to his friend and meet his father, and that was when she stepped out to help the boys get their bags out of the trunk.

She was very clearly his mother and Michael saw right away where Raffl got his reddish blond hair from, only hers was streaked slightly with gray that blended perfectly, looking more like highlights than a sign of age. Her eyes were also his same shade of blue, pale and prone to appearing any color from brown to green to gray depending on the angle and lighting. Like him, she was fit, tall, lean, the body of an active woman. Similar to her son, she had a quiet tone, but she spoke only in German. She had a serious look about her, almost librarian like with in her pant suit and delicately coiled hair. And she had the intent hard stare and straight back posture so often associated with Germans and Austrians. He found her lovely, radiant and entirely dismissive of his presence.

As she kissed her husband and son goodbye, she spared Michael a passing glance before climbing back in the car and driving away. Michael couldn’t resist, he asked, “Your mom didn’t want to say hello?”

Raffl shrugged. “She hates America, gets cranky when she has to come. If she had her way I’d still be playing in Sweden.”

The dad’s trip proceeded as normal and Michael did his best to forget the stunning older woman who was Mrs. Raffl, but it was harder than he would have thought. Raffl’s father had played hockey for years and it was easy imagine him in his heyday, looking like his son and catching the eye of a young, gorgeous Alda. Together they were a beautiful couple and Michael reminded himself of that every time he had a dirty thought about the woman. He felt his cheeks burn red with shame when Raffl or his father spoke kindly to him and he thought, I’m going straight to hell for this.

That one brief encounter, that was bad enough. Enough for the woman to be clogging his thoughts whether his eyes were open or closed, whether he was skating or even hitting on other women. Every time he saw Raffl, he thought of her. And he saw him a lot. Bad enough, but it got a whole lot worse.

A few weeks after the trip, Mr. and Mrs. Raffl came back to the States and Philadelphia to see their son play again. Naturally, Raffl wanted to take them to dinner and he, of course, invited his good friend Michael. Somehow he ended up sitting next to the woman, the mother, he reminded himself shamefully, who had been haunting him. This time, it was much, much worse.

Up close she was even more lovely than he had remembered, her features accentuated by the crinkling of her skin over the years. But her flesh was still firm, naturally rather than through the aid of cosmetic alterations. There was no mistaking the fact that she was at least fifty, maybe older, but she had aged well and her beauty had only increased as time passed Michael felt. She had the grace that only women who have lived and seen the world seem to possess. She was content in herself, with no desire to impress anyone.

As everyone chatted, she was nearly always silent, occasionally adding a comment in German to something her husband or son said, mostly occupying her mouth with a dainty bite of food or her ever present cigarette. She hardly looked at Michael and he was happy for that, because if she had paid him any attention at all, the feelings he was fighting just below the surface might have become even more transparent.

Instead, he appreciated her from afar while sitting right next to her. She was an intent listener and clearly loved her son. The pride she felt shone through clearly when they interacted, but mostly she seemed happy to just let the boys talk hockey. Marrying a hockey player and raising two more she must have been used to it by now, Michael thought. Still, he longed to know what she was thinking, what she felt…also what she might feel like under his body.

He flushed red again at the thought and when he looked over she was staring at him. One side of her mouth lifted in a smirk, almost as if she knew what he just been thinking about. It made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He turned back to the conversation and that was the last time she looked his way while they were at the table.

Outside the restaurant, when they were saying goodbye, she met his eyes again and that knowing little smile returned. She held out her hand, said his name gently, but with a heavy accent. “Michael. Pleasure as always.”

He took her small hand in his, shaking it as formally as he could, resisting the urge to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. He could only manage a very stiff, “Mrs. Raffl,” as his response.

That night, he gave in, jerking off while thinking of her…twice. Because after he came the first time, he was still hard. It had been everything about her this time that had driven him to his point, but the way she said his name had been too much. He thought of her beautiful mouth when he wrapped a hand around his cock. Stroking his smooth, hard shaft he remembered the easy way his name fell from his lips, like a caress, encircling him like a gentle breeze.

When he came the second time, it was almost painful and his shouted groan was more agony than ecstasy. He had felt awful about even thinking anything about her under normal circumstances, but using her as spank bank material brought on a whole new level of guilt. He took a shower and went out, even though it was nearly one in the morning.

He returned home not long after he left, but this time he wasn’t alone. Brandy was a buxom blond, nice ass, pouty mouth, and the sort of girl who didn’t mind a late night romp that didn’t involve long term commitments.

As he sunk his cock in her slippery pussy, he let out a sigh. Finally, the indomitable Mrs. Raffl was no longer present in his mind and he lost himself to the feel of everything Brandy was: young, vibrant, giggly, and eager to please. He fucked her almost harshly and she seemed to love it, smiling up at him the entire time. When she came, he pulled out and told her to suck him off until he came down her throat. She left without so much as a goodbye and he was grateful. Left alone, however, he found himself hardening again to thoughts of Raffl’s mom and he cursed himself for this foul obsession.

A week later, deep into the Flyers season just as winter was giving way to spring, Raffl fell ill. The flu hitting him hard and confining him to bed for days on end. On Tuesday, Michael went to practice and then stopped by Raffl’s house to bring him some soup. When the door opened and Alda stood there, he nearly dropped the bag of food he had been holding.

That little smile spread across his lips. “Michael, how are you?”

He only managed to say, “Soup.”

“Pardon?”

He held up the bag helplessly mumbling, “I brought soup for Mike.”

She nodded and took the bag from him. “Come in.”

Bad, bad idea, he thought. He stepped in anyway, letting Alda close the door behind him. She brushed her chest against his arm as she moved passed him and it nearly stopped his heart. She went into the kitchen and he follow, saying nothing.

After she put the soup in the fridge, she went into the living room, again he followed, again saying nothing. She settled on the couch and he sat opposite of her on another. She lit a cigarette and he wondered what the actual hell he was still doing here.

“He’s asleep, Michael. But I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“I thought you lived in Austria.”

“I do.”

“Then why are you here?” She quirked any eyebrow at his rather rude question and he quickly made amends. “I mean, how did you get here so quickly? I know you flew, but he just got sick a few days ago.”

“I was planning to visit this week anyway. My husband is hosting a boys trip to his cabin in Switzerland.”

“So it’s just you this time?”

“Just me. And my Michael upstairs.”

My Michael, God above how he wanted to be her Michael in the worst way. Wrong. Just dirty. She was everything he shouldn’t want, someone else’s wife, his friend’s mother, old enough to be his mother for crying out loud. And yet…as she sat there, cooly smoking and staring at him, almost daring him to come on to her, she was his every fantasy come to reality.

She pulled out her pack and offered it to him. “Do you smoke?”

He did not. He was an athlete, afterall. Still, he hesitated. The way he was feeling, a cigarette might mellow him out a bit. “Not normally, but I could use one, yeah.”

She set it down on the table between them, but Michael took his chance when he saw it, standing and moving over to sit on the couch next to her, picking up the pack from there. She gave him that grin again and it went straight between his legs, making his already hard cock throb in his boxers.

He lit the cigarette and tried to let the nicotine soothe his nerves. It wasn’t working very well.

She noticed. “You seem nervous. Do I make you uncomfortable, Michael?”

How he wished two things: that he could tell her the truth and that she would stop saying his name.

“I’m just tired. End of the season. Stressful, you know?”

“Ah, yes. The end of the season. Of course. And do you have a girlfriend, Michael?”

Why was she asking this? Why wouldn’t she stop saying his damn name? “No, I don’t.”

He couldn’t look at her for too long, but he also couldn’t look away either. Their eyes met and she asked, “Would you like to kiss me…Michael?”

The truth is, she couldn’t resist saying his name because he visibly shuddered when she did. That was her first clue that this young, gorgeous man was more than mildly attracted to her. His shifting eyes and shaking hands were a few others. Alda had been around men like Michael for long enough to recognize the affect she had on them.

Michael for his part was slack jawed in shock at her question. “Huh?”

She moved closer. “I asked if you would like to kiss me.”

Michael tried to shift away, but he was already at the edge of the couch. He could have gotten up, but he didn’t do that. “You have a husband.”

“He’s not here.”

“You’re…my friend’s mother.”

She put her hand on his knee and he nearly moaned at the sensation. Instead he just swallowed hard. “I am those things, a wife, a mother, but really I’m just a woman. And you are just a man.”

She was too close, entirely too close for him to be clear headed about this. He braved a look, those pale eyes were on him, her tongue running between her lips to wet them, her hand still on his thigh. She looked predatory and it was strange for man like Michael to be on the receiving end of such attention for a change.

He slowly lifted his own hand and put it on top of hers. She waited for him to remove her touch from his body, but he didn’t. He just rested his hand on hers and looked at her, the conflict of his mind reflected in his eyes.

He was weak and they both knew it. She stood, keeping his hand in hers as she then pulled him along. Down the hall behind the kitchen was a small spare bedroom. Michael knew this for a fact because he had slept there a few times, when he was too drunk or tired to make it back to his own house after a late night of hanging with Raffl.

Alda led him in, closed the door, turned the lock on the knob, and Michael was about ready to jump out of the window. He stood there, for the first time in his life he was alone with a woman he wanted to fuck and yet terrified to touch her.

She recognized this, standing in front of him, smiling. She reached for the buttons of her blouse, slowly undoing them one by one until her light grey bra was revealed. She tossed the shirt aside, unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Michael took her in: soft skin pulled tightly over toned muscles and tanned from the sun of some foreign country he’d probably only heard of in passing.

He wanted to say something, but he was stunned into silence. She continued, undoing her bra and then sliding her panties down to join her skirt.

“Oh, God…”

“What was that, Michael?”

He met her teasing eyes, finally tearing them away from her body. “Alda…you’re going to kill me.”

It was the first time he had used her name and the sound made her chuckle. She stepped up to him, stroking his biceps with her palms and then finding his wrists. She pulled his hands towards her, put them on her hips as she now pressed her naked form against his fully clothed one. Her small hands rested on his strong shoulders.

“Michael…kiss me. Touch me, please.”

“Alda…Mrs. Raffl…I really can’t do that.”

He said this lie as boldly as he could, but his voice shook, his hands gripping her flesh even as he claimed he couldn’t move forward. She moved even closer, licking at his earlobe, whispering, “You can. I know you can. No one will know.”

That was it, her accent in his ear, her hot breath on his skin, her promise of secrecy. He lost control, grabbing her harshly and then pulling his head back until they were face to face and he could press their lips together.

She smiled into the kiss, satisfied he was with her now. She was not like any other woman he had ever kissed. She was not only confident, but also skilled, using her tongue perfectly to tempt and tease his until he was ready to give her anything she asked for.

Alda pulled at the tight t-shirt he wore, pushing it up his body, until he reached down and pulled it off. She went for his jeans next, undoing the button and reaching inside before he even had a chance to pull them down. When she had a hand wrapped around him inside his boxers, he nearly roared out a groan, but quickly quieted himself.

Now he was ready for this, pushing her back towards the bed as he nearly tripped with his pants bunching around his knees. His boxers joined his jeans on the floor and he relaxed a bit when he saw her eyeing him up. He was always a confident lover; he could be so now as well.

He grabbed his cock, which he knew women usually found impressive. If he was going to hell for this, he was in the very least going to enjoy himself as he did it. Full of cheek and sass now, he asked, “Bigger than your husband?”

“Without question, but not the biggest I’ve had.”

Of course it wasn’t. This woman was something else and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her refusal to stroke his ego. She sat forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer to stand between her legs as she was on the edge of the bed. Her hands caressed the smooth, hard plane of his abs and then moved lower, stroking his toned hips and thighs before both hands wrapped around his cock.

He could have come just like this, with just her hands on him. In fact, he could have died a happy man with just her jerking him off until he came on her chest. Again though, if he was going to do this, he was going to get his money’s worth.

He bent down, bringing his hips back to remove his cock from her reach and kissed her soundly. She clutched his arms as she inched back onto the bed, pulling him along with her.

Just when he thought he was in control, she reminded him that he was not. On the bed with her, she got him on his back and then straddled his hips, slipping her pussy down around his cock before he could even enjoy the image of her hovering over him.

“Jesus Christ.” He hadn’t realized how loud he was until her hand came down on his mouth.

“Michael, please control yourself.”

How could she could be so calm right now when he was nearly delirious at the feel of her? He wanted to make her feel as out of control as he was, because this just wasn’t even fair how much power she had over him.

Right now, though, he just nodded, agreeing to control himself as best he could. Her hands moved to his chest, bracing herself as she rocked her hips back against his cock that pressed deep inside.

She made quiet, contented sounds, her mouth open only slightly as she worked him, eyes slowly closing. Her thighs were tight against him, bracing his body and making him feel trapped underneath her. Almost as if he just now realized that he could overpower her, he grabbed her hips and flipped them quickly and easily.

She let out a nearly silent laugh and let his hips settle between her thighs as she tucked both hands behind her head. “Alright, Michael. If that’s how you want it. Impress me.”

Lord, how she was going to drive him crazy. He had the sinking feeling that this woman had seen and done more than he could even imagine in his wildest, dirtiest dreams. And goddamn if that didn’t make him want to work even harder.

He flashed his confident grin at her and then cupped both breasts in his palms. His hips shifted back, pressed forward, moving her entire body with every even stroke.

He went on intensely, using his hands on her body to leverage his thrusts. She smiled up at him, seeming to enjoy herself but it wasn’t enough. Despite the fact that his friend, her son, was upstairs sleeping off the flu, he wanted to hear this woman scream his name.

He pressed his torso up with one hand on the bed and used the other to bend one of her legs at the knee. He pressed deeper, shifting his angle to hit that soft spot in her pussy just right.

Now he had her right where he needed her, because her head tipped back, her mouth wide open and panting, her hands reaching for any part of him within her grasp. Instead of shouting, she whimpered his name, so quietly he almost missed it.

He wanted to laugh and pump his fist. Finally! Keeping himself quiet, he arched his back, brought his mouth to her breasts, finding a nipple with his tongue and flicking the puckered flesh until he felt her losing the battle, squeezing him tightly and digging her nails into his back.

“Michael…Michael, yes. Don’t stop.”

He sped up, biting her other nipple and pushing her leg further up to get even deeper. He was so close, he had been hard for this woman for too long and he wasn’t going to make it. He felt his cock betraying him, jerking and releasing his come along her pussy walls. Luckily, just as it did so, she slapped both hands against his shoulder, neck elongating at she threw her head back in pleasure, silently screaming and clenching around him.

He was still panting when she patted his head, almost as if he were a child, indicating that he needed to get off of her. When he pressed up, she presented her lips for a kiss and he didn’t disappoint. When she was free of his body, she told him simply, “Thank you.”

The heat of their passion over, Michael was left with his feelings of guilt and shame as he got dressed. What had he done? How as he ever going to look Raffl in the eye again?

Alda noticed his discomfort and she reached out to him when they were both fully clothed again. Gently, she held him, cradling his face in her hands. “Please don’t let this bother you. I will never tell him, anyone. In two days I will be back in Austria and you may never see me again.”

He didn’t know what would be worse, never seeing her again, or seeing her all the time. He admitted that the former was probably best. Now that he had done this, perhaps he had gotten it out of his system and could move on. He did already feel calmer in her presence, less needy, more at ease.

Maybe she was right. They were both adults, she had clearly done this before so it’s not as if he broke up a marriage. He smiled, nodded, kissed her sweetly. “Danke, Alda.”

She laughed and kissed him again. “Bitte, Michael. You’re welcome.”

Notes