10 Ways To Cope When Your Mom's a Milf

10 Ways To Cope When Your Mom's A Milf

Ch. 3

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I think I made my mom cry that night.

I did feel guilty. Don't get me wrong, I'm not heartless. But I just can't believe that she would date someone that young.

Oh well. She's dating him and it doesn't look like she's going to stop anytime soon. I guess my opinion means nothing to her.

I looked at the clock. It was ten in the morning. I groaned, knowing that I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.

I rolled out of my bed, hitting the carpeted floor. My face plant made me groan again at my own stupidity.

I wanted the familiar warmth of my plush bed. But I refused to go back to sleep and have nightmares of 'them'.

I stood, flexing my back hearing my joints pop. I let out a huge yawn. My face screwed up when I smelled my breath.

Morning breath sucks.

I rushed to the bathroom brushing my teeth, and doing my other morning routines.

Shower. Check.

Hair. Check.

Clothes. Clothes? What to wear?

I rummaged through my hazardous closet. It mostly consisted of skinny jeans and T-shirts with weird sayings.

I settled on a light yellow shirt that had big block letters on the front saying, 'You can wear your heart on your sleeve'. Then on the back it says, 'The hell if I leave mine out for someone to take'.

I then picked out a pair of grey sweats. They had an elastic bottom, which allowed them to scrunch up. Very convenient for dancing, I can't trip over them. On the left hip it had the number 24, all around it were swirling designs outlined in yellow.

Then I threw on some hi-tops and was out the door. It was chilly but I only had to run a few blocks to get to the local Community Club. They let people come for many things. You could sign up for a sport and be on the recreational sports team, or just do something for fun.

Once I entered the large building, I walked down the long hallway that I knew lead to the Dance Room.

I opened the doors to see people already occupying the space. They were dancing to some hip-hop song. It seemed like they were practicing because they were all synchronized in their movements. It was hypnotic. Each move was done fluidly and without difficulty. They changed their positions and began to dance in pairs.

Each guy lifted their partner up and swung them over their head. Only to have the girls slide underneath them and whip back into their previous positions. The transitions were done smoothly.

Then they all started to dance closely together, hips swaying in a dirty gesture. It was great choreography, but it was missing something.

“You!” I heard someone yell. Me?!

I stopped looking at the beautiful dance and focused on who called me. The music suddenly stopped. All eyes were now on me.

The partnered couples were frozen in their position.

I then realized that there was one guy who didn't have a partner and he was sitting off to the side. He's the one that called me.

Oh no, I hate awkward situations.

He slowly made his way over. Nervousness gripped my throat in a choke hold. I gave a weak smile.

He didn't find it amusing. He waved me the rest of the way over, a serious expression on his face.