Seduction in a Construction Zone
New water lines were put in my town last year. At first I was put off because that meant a construction crew would be taking over the main road through town making a two minute drive to the school at least a ten minute drive. Oh I can hear you scoff at me over complaining about an extra eight minutes when it takes much longer than that to get from one point to another in large cities. However, this is a place that has no stop lights. There’s one blinking light in the whole county and most of us aren’t even aware it’s there most of the time. Anyway, the main road through town is the only way for me to take my daughter to the high school. There is no short cut or alternate route, so four times a day I had to make my way through the orange construction cones and past the man who holds the powerful stop and go sign.
From the very first day of construction the stop/go sign guy, whom I began referring to as “cone man” because he was always standing by a large orange construction cone, started giving me the eye. You know, the kind of eye that says, “Yo momma, c’mon over here and let me show you some lovin’ construction style.” My daughter caught sight of this immediately. She was dumbfounded and grossed out all at the same time. “Eeewww mom! That guy is so totally checking you out!”
Now it wasn’t that this cone man was gross or anything. In fact, I was quite impressed that his jeans fit him so nicely and revealed a backside that was rather round and fit looking. He was an average looking guy. Not hard on the eyes, yet not crash-my-car gorgeous. My daughter’s problem was that cone man was probably in his late twenties, while I am a forty-something mother. I guess that kind of makes me a MILF, although I didn’t know what a MILF was until someone enlightened me not so long ago. For anyone who doesn't know, it's a term used by men to describe a woman who is a mother that one would like to have sex with.
My daughter was still laughing as we reached the school, and before she got out of the car I told her to not be so hard on my cone man which sent her into tear producing laughter. Secretly I started wondering what could be wrong with this guy if he was indeed checking me out. I mean, I was old enough to be his, um, much older sister or something. I wasn’t totally sure yet, but I was about to find out because I was approaching the construction zone and cone man was already looking in my direction. As I passed him, I decided to look at his face instead of his buttocks to get a clue about his intentions. Sure enough, he was staring hard, and then he smiled and waved. I flipped up one finger, the pointer finger, to acknowledge his gesture. Yes, he was checking me out. I saw his eyes linger just a little too long on my headlights. There was no mistaking his intentions. He was flirting with me.
I must admit that this little flirty incident put me in a very good mood, and my stomach had butterflies as I went about my normal routine of picking my daughter up that afternoon. Again, as I approached cone man, his stare became intense, then a smile came across his face, and he waved at me. Not knowing exactly how to handle the situation, I smiled and gave him another finger wave. Okay, now I’m getting dangerously close to leading this guy on even though I was only doing what any southern person would do by acknowledging his friendliness. Friendliness? Maybe, but his eyes were saying something that was much friendlier than “Hello lady, have a nice day.”
After picking up my daughter, we headed back through town, and as the construction cones slowly came into view, my nerves started getting all jittery, and I was feeling kind of tingly inside - a feeling very similar to having a first date with someone. This time cone man stopped us so that traffic could come through from the opposite direction. Now I was trapped. My mind started racing over what I would do while sitting helpless in my car waiting for the cute cone man to flip the sign to “go." My eyes were darting around trying to fix on something away from him.
Don't look at him! Just look at the bank or the oncoming traffic or the corner store...anything but him!
But I had to end up looking at him so I’d know when to go. After all, he alone was in control since he held a sign that clearly stated when people should stop and when they could go. I slowly looked at him, and he was smiling as he gave me a familiar wave. This time I waved back with my full hand.
Now I’ve done it. I’ve given him a full hand wave that evidently in his language means c’mon big boy show me what you got.
He then broadened his smile and gave me a big head nod.
My daughter was livid. “Mom! What are you doing? This guy totally has the hots for you or something!” The only thing I knew to do at that moment was to diffuse the steamy situation with humor, so I casually replied, “Cone man can’t help it. I’ve still got it, all the women in our family have it, and it’s kind of like a curse.” Of course she howled with laughter, which was part of my plan to get her attention away from the evolving construction seduction.
The MILF Family Tree
From there, we had plenty of laughs over the next few weeks. I was able to back up my claims about having a curse that brings out animal attraction in men no matter how old the women in my family get. I told her about how my mother has been married three times, and the third husband fell under her spell when she was in her fifties. My daughter’s eyes got wide with wonder over that one. I mean, being fifty-something is old…to a fourteen year old anyway. The story that finally sold her was how my grandmother, my mother’s mother, was also married three times only her husbands died. One by one, they died, and I’ve always joked with my family about how Grandmother was too much woman for those men to handle. The really interesting thing is that at 85 years old, my grandmother put yet another man under her spell, and he begged her to marry him. For years he begged, and for years she told him no. I think she was worried he might die too.
After two solid generations of pure MILF women, I suppose this makes me a third generation MILF. At least that's what I'd like to believe. My daughter will be the fourth generation to carry on the tradition or curse, and I warned her to be merciful by only choosing men with strong hearts and the mental and physical strength to withstand the power of the curse.
Will Sweatpants Bring Sexy Back?
With my daughter sold on the notion that the women in our family have an irresistible, sometimes fatal charm that arouses animal passion in men, we looked forward to driving down Main Street to see what the cone man would do next. One day he stopped us when there was no traffic coming from the other side of the road. There was no reason for him to stop us, yet he did. We gave each other our usual big smile and enthusiastic waves, but this time he began to undress my car with his eyes. Very slowly, he peeled away every inch of the vehicle until there was nothing left but me and a steering wheel. Now I was really nervous. I was used to making the top half of myself presentable, but I always neglected the bottom half since he couldn’t see it, and there I sat in my old sweatpants and flip flops. OH MY GOD! Maybe that’s why he switched the sign to GO so quickly.
Hit and Run
I was expecting cone man to quickly move on to another MILF after that, but I was wrong. As I approached the construction zone for the 3rd time that day, there he stood…my cone man holding his sign and giving me the eye. The MILF eye. It was a perplexing situation because the cones had been moved, and now they were zig zagging all around and I couldn’t figure out how to maneuver around and out of them. As I was trying to figure this out, I looked over at my cone man, and he winked at me.
How did it progress to winking after only a few weeks?
He was a bold cone man, and I was flustered beyond belief. So I inched my way out looking for a safe exit to make my turn, and he waved for me to go on while giving me another seductive wink. The second wink sent me into an emotional tailspin, I mashed on the accelerator a bit too hard and plowed right over one of his construction cones. Glancing back, I could see the cone was completely flattened and flopping helplessly in the road. I was a cone killer!
I couldn’t stop. I wanted to stop and apologize, but I was too embarrassed, so it was a clear case of hit and run. However on my way back through town later, I did stop. I rolled my window down and before I could open my mouth, he said, “Hey honey, you ran over my cone!” Apologizing profusely, I stammered, “I…I...I don’t know what I was thinking, or doing, and I’m so, so sorry for, um, you know, running over the cone, I...I…” Thankfully he stopped me in mid-babble and waved for me to make the turn down my road, and he was laughing the whole time. He knew what he’d done. He was toying with me, seducing me in his construction cone man way and getting me all flustered and distracted. As I was rounding the corner, I glanced over and cone man gave me a nod, a smile, a wave, and a wink. It was almost like those signals coaches give to baseball players. I laughed, waved, smiled and gave a little wink back.
Sadly, that was the last time I ever saw my cone man. There was no warning that it was over…no teary goodbyes…no last chance winks…no more undressing my car with his eyes… nothing. I miss him terribly, and I’m sure he misses me too. He can’t help missing me, you know, since I have the curse. Now there is more construction in our town, and I can feel those butterflies fluttering in my stomach every time I approach the "zone" and those men in their orange vests. I've looked in vain for my cone man, but he has clearly moved on. Now, as I look at the construction cones peppering the lonely roads, the sight of them makes me yearn for my cone man. Just this morning, as I passed the man who holds the stop/go sign, I refused to look at him. I couldn’t. He would only break my heart as the last cone man did.
Disclaimer: No, I wasn't really in love with cone man (although the events were real), and I do not consider myself a MILF in the least. Although my mother is a MILF and my grandmother was a MILF for sure. :)
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