Saturday, December 28, 2024
Thursday, December 19, 2024
SURPRISE
Usually when I write a story an inspiration out of nowhere hits me. Today as I am writing this it was not really an inspiration but a strong desire to write a story. I was so turned on by a story I was reading which is nothing like what I wrote, I just had to type something. It is like when you are so horny you just need to jerk off to at least get the edge off. This is what poured out of me. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And for those that are not familiar with my writings, they tend to be a bit short.
Surprise!
The year is 1993 and I am about graduate High School. I have 2 older sisters both long moved out: one being 10 years older and the other 6 years older. The second oldest moved to live with hippies in California while the oldest stayed in our home state but in her own place with what we later learn to be her husband.
At our family home is just me and mom now. My father and mother finally divorced which my sister and I all agree was long overdue. What love they may have been no longer there for quite some time. Dad moved back to his home country never to be seen or heard from again. My mother and I however were happier. She even surprised her doctor after reviewing her current test results. The doctor asked what changed to improve her health? My mother put it bluntly, "I got divorced." They both laughed about that. As for me, well I finally had mom all to myself.
The fact is I love my mom, but I love mom more than just a mom, I want her as my lover. I don't know what caused these feelings. I have tried to fight them and has become increasingly difficult through the years with my father gone. Taking up the role as man of the house mom started treating me more like her man, than her son. Granted she always spoiled me, but now without the interruptions of my father, we now cuddle on the couch. We always sat on the couch but a distance from each other. But with my father gone something changed. Mom has become more affectionate. I personally feel she no longer concerned being judged by her husband and their friends because well my father has a big mouth.
Mom has many times cuddled with me on the couch in just a robe, and from what I can tell no bra on but panties I am not sure till one day. But that isn't the point of the story. As I was saying I was fighting these strong feelings towards my mother, seeing her more of my woman than my mom. Being aroused by her always when I see her in a lack of undress. Wearing a robe more often than she has in the past, and at times finding her in front of her mirror with it opened and her breasts exposed but barely covered.
I have wasted boxes of tissues of fantasizing this and that. Thinking of these images that I now see daily, but I need more. I want more. I need my mom. I want to feel her skin on mine. I want to feel the softness of her breasts. I want to feel her breath on my neck as I am in her and bringing her to climax; assuming I can.
The thing is how or if this will ever happen is anyone's guess. Still the desire is almost becoming unbearable and resulted in me doing something in hindsight daring and well just not normal in the eyes of society, but it is our lives. It is our home. No business but ours of what happens in our home.
I am about to finish high school at the age of 19. My parents raising me in their native language then when I went to kindergarten for the first time I was not fluent in the English language even though we lived in the United States. I was forced to do kindergarten again and my parents were forced to speak to me in English which worked but resulted in me losing any ability to speak their native language.
But I digress so here we are again in 1993 just me and my mom and she asks me what I want for a graduation gift. She informed me she doesn't make enough to get me a car but was nice enough to say I do deserve it, so she wants to give me something special. The thing is what I want more than anything, even more than a car is to have sex with my mom. But can I tell her?
*** About a week before graduation
Friday night, and took the last of my exams, and going back to school the following week is pointless. My mother agreed and even took the week off from work to spend it with me. She offered for us to take a trip, but I told her I had something better in mind which includes what I want for my graduation gift which I told her I would like to tell her after our meal and some drinks.
My mom has let me have drinks with her since I turned 18 which in her country is how old you must be to start drinking legally. Also, earlier in my years my mom would buy me the new issues of my 3 favorite porn mags each month. The fact is in her country nudity and sex isn't a big deal. And that brings us to that word: sex. I want sex, but I want sex with mom and tonight is the night I am going to tell her.
She went all out making one of my favorite meals and pouring us wine. By the time we were done eating and cleaning up the dishes, we were at the couch on our third bottle of wine and to say we were drunk would be an understatement. And like usual mom is on the couch with me with her head on my shoulder only lifting it long enough to take sips from her glass.
"Mom...I know what I want as a present and I thought all about how to say and express the importance of what I want but I figure I just show you."
Lifting her head she looks at me and about to respond and right before she does I put my finger to her lips and tell her "Shhhh".
Grabbing her glass, I take hers and mine and place them on the table and turn to face her.
"Mom...don't freak out, don't get mad."
Right after I say this I reach for my mom's face and rub her cheek with my thumb and lean forward and give her a gentle kiss on her lips for about 2 seconds. Pulling back a few inches I see her eyes open wide and her face is expressionless and taking that as a sign to do it again I do just that. But this time I feel her kiss me back.
Upon pulling back she says, "Johnny..." but I quickly shush her again and place my hand behind her head and pull her forward and kiss her a little harder and touch her lips with my tongue. I taste the wine, but I also taste her and again I pull back and look at her.
Not sure how or why but I notice her robe parted and her breasts while not fully exposed are exposed enough so I can see she is breathing harder, and her chest is rising and lowering with each breath. Taking this as a good sign and she yet to stop me I take my hand, grab her hair and pull her head to the side, I lean down to her neck and give her a kiss with a bit of tongue and sucking just enough that I do not leave a hickey.
"Oooohhhh..." I hear from her lips.
Working my way from her neck to her earlobe I suck it in and then tongue her ear.
"Oh god..." she says
After spending a bit of time on her ear I pull back to look at her and she has her eyes closed, her mouth open, and breathing heavier than before. Deciding this is the time to be a bit more direct, I place my hand on her shoulder parting one-side of her robe off her shoulder exposing her skin. Lowering my head I begin to kiss her gently which is when I feel her place her hand on my head running her fingers through my hair.
With all the signs of this going the way I want I place my hand again on her but this time on her exposed breast gently squeezing and toying with her nipple.
It is then I hear a moan of a woman in pleasure.
"Mom..." I say after pulling back but leaving my hand on her breast massaging it as I look into her open eyes and I continue to say, "The present I want more than anything, more than a car, is to have sex with you."
"Umm...honey I am flattered but we can't...." right then I cut off her response with a strong powerful kiss and mom reciprocates in turn grabbing my head with both hands kissing me back with tongue. With our dueling tongues we take turns sucking on each, swapping saliva.
During this exchange I begin to roll on my back with mom rolling on-top of me and I begin to slide off the other side of her robe. Kissing me with intensity mom lets her arms drop allowing me to slide the one piece of clothing covering her flesh for me to take in. To enjoy. To ravage. Well except she is wearing panties. But not for long.
I did plan this ahead of time not knowing how this would go but after we finished up in the kitchen I removed all clothing prior to going to the living room in my boxer shorts. I am known to do this at time, and she never minded so we are both still wearing items of clothing that is covering our lower half. However, those clothes are not preventing my mom from sitting on my lap and grinding against my hard-on. A hard cock that I so want to put in my mother's pussy.
"Wait...what are we doing?" she asks as I am kissing her neck.
"Mom...just go with it." After taking a brief pause and going right back to her neck with more aggressive kisses.
"Oh god John..this is so wrong..you are my sweet boy...we are not supposed to..." and again I stop her attempts to fight this with another kiss.
Deciding to be a little bit bolder I have an idea. Using not much force I roll my mother over onto her back and go back to her neck. With the glasses of wine not far from us I grab one; not caring which one I begin pour a little of wine between her breasts which resulted in her getting goose bumps and chest rising in speed due to her breathing increasing rapidly.
Leaning down I begin to lick up the wine I poured onto my mother's body getting every drop. Then when I removed it all I do it again and again. From between her tits to on her tits and using this as method or a reason to suck her tits.
Her voices of protest stop and instead of showing any signs of resistance she continues to run both hands and fingers through my hair. As I find the glass is empty I place it back onto the table and run my hands down the sides of her hips and begin to slide her underwear down her legs exposing her pussy to me for the first time in my life. Seeing my mom has a natural bush which is not my preference I don't let that deter me from my target and that is to lick my mother's pussy for the first time.
Grabbing the other glass of wine, I pour it aiming at her lips that are starting to blossom like a flower. Between the wine and her natural juices, I lower my head and for the first time in my life I taste my mother between her legs.
"Oh god...what are you doing????"
I don't respond with words, but instead let the glass fall from my hands and grab hold of both her legs and wrap my lips around her clit and suck it into my mouth with all I have.
"Ohhhhh gooooooddd I am...oh god...please please...yes yes yes.....aaarrrgggggg"
Hanging onto dear life I bring my mother to orgasm. Her hips are bucking, thighs shaking, and her gyration is so powerful it almost bucks me off her.
As her breathing comes back to normal I take immediate action and slide off my boxer shorts and position myself on top of my mother and place the head of my penis right at the lips penetrating her with just the head. Not in her yet because she comes to reality and says..."Oh johnny no..you can't."
But in fact, I can, and I slide into my mother for the first time since when I exited her birth canal 19 years ago. In response mom's protests stop and she just looks at me with her mouth wide open as well as her eyes and I feel my balls touching her ass.
"Mom...what I want for a graduation present is you." And right after saying that I begin to fuck my mother. At first she does not make a sound, but she also is not making any effort to stop me and just stares at me with complete shock.
I am just going in and out of my moms warm, wet, slick pussy and it feels wonderful. I have had lost my virginity my senior year to a girl in my Spanish class, but I wore a condom that first time and only time having sex. But with mom I am completely bare, not only is my body naked but so is my cock. And it is wonderful. I feel the heat, the wetness, I even feel her pulse in her pussy, and it is just amazing. Even if she tried to fight me off, it is too intense to stop now.
Being that I jerked off that morning I am able to last a bit longer than I did when I lost my virginity. Running my hands up and down my mother's body and grabbing hold of one of her legs, I start going faster and harder.
Mom goes from silent to grunts...grunts of a woman experiencing sexual pleasure. I am sure it has been a while for my mother, and well it has been several months for me since I had sex but clearly it does not matter. We are both enjoying it regardless the views of her church, friends, neighbors, oh hell even society. Mom and I are fucking...no not fucking...I am making love to my mother. Staring into her eyes as I feel the increasing intensity of an impending orgasm.
Not even giving her a warning of what I am about to do I give one final thrust and grunt in the pleasure of ejaculating in a pussy. But not any pussy...my mother's pussy.
Just as I am cumming the door to the outside opens and in bursts both my sisters screaming "SURPRISSSSEEEE...." And then just go silent as they see their brother cumming into their mother.
As my cock drips the last of my semen into my mother we both look in horror of my two sisters catching us in our love making.
"Ummmm...hey you two. Ummm...yeah I guess I have some explaining to do. Grab a seat."
But instead of walking to the couch they both stand there and one of them says, "Well shit...to think we were both going to fuck him as a graduation present."
And after hearing that all four of us chuckle and have a good laugh of how this ended.
************
As for what happened after. Well, let's see how well this story votes and if the inspiration hits me to write a follow-up.
SMALL MIRACLE
I'm happy to report that I'm in a much better place than a month ago. All I can say is, life is an all-star pitcher with a wicked curveball!
I wanted to get this one out before Christmas. I know the relevance to its date is short-lived and will likely be read in the coming months, but I was feeling a touch of the season's spirit.
SMALL MIRACLES doesn't break any new ground here, it's just a storyline that invaded my thoughts months ago. I'm trying to get back into my wheelhouse, returning to the belief that (for the most part) people aren't truly bad, they just make bad decisions. Of course, there are exceptions or the LW category would be very boring.
I've read it a few times in other authors' preambles and feel it is a relevant point. It's just a story. It's fiction... and there will be mistakes. I know some folks live to point them out.
I consider this story a mixed bag of tags. However, I will suggest you keep in mind the spirit of a giving season.
Thank you for all the past comments and encouragement. I look forward to giving this a few more tries in 2025.
Cheers,
C_T
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Small miracles
"You don't truly mean it, do you?"
His hand rested against the curve of my bottom, and I paused, seated on the edge of the couch.
"Yes, Steve. I do. It's for the best."
"The best? For whom?" He persisted.
"Everyone, Steve. You, me, Jerry, Anita." I knew he hated it when I brought his wife's name into a discussion. I heard him huff as I ascended and walked my naked form to his office bathroom.
"Are you worried that Jerry knows?" I knew he would try to keep things going as they had been over the last four months.
I walked into the bathroom, took a cloth, and wiped his cum remnants from the insides of my swollen pussy. "No, he doesn't, but that's not the point." I took another wet cloth and began an overall quick cleanup. A process I had become too familiar with. "We both knew this was a bad idea, Steve. It must end. I don't like the woman I'm becoming; Jerry deserves so much better." I heard him get off the couch and come towards the bathroom. He leaned his naked body against the door frame and looked at me.
"Don't you deserve to be happy, Marie?" If he only knew how stupid that question was. I was happy with my marriage, and I loved Jerry immensely. What I was, however, was foolish. I knew it from the beginning. How did it get so far?
"I get it. He's rich and makes you feel secure, we both know he's lacking where it truly counts." He grabbed his naked oversized package to hit the point home.
"I keep telling you, there's nothing wrong with him down there." I gave him a look of warning.
"So, you say, but the words that come from your lips in the heat of our passion, say otherwise." He pressed.
I finished putting my bra on and stared at him. "People say all kinds of things in those moments, Steve. It spills out in moments of a sexual release; it doesn't mean that everything said is gospel. The only time there's truth to those passionate statements, is when Jerry and I are fucking."
"Thought you said the bedroom has been a dead zone." He snickered.
I have said that. But I also knew the reason. It wasn't Jerry's fault. I had pulled back considerably the last 3 months, mostly due to my guilt. I almost believed that if I wasn't fucking Jerry, then I wouldn't actually be cheating on him. I know... so fucking stupid! This was one of the reasons why I was ending this fling with Steve. I think he took my silence as a sign that I was weakening.
"A happy marriage is more than money and fancy living, Marie." He tried to cozy up to me as I fixed my makeup. "It can start with trouble between the sheets, eventually becoming the elephant in the room." He gently took my empty hand and wrapped it around his significant girth. "Maybe I have what you need to keep your married life tolerable."
His full-court press was starting to anger me. What is it with guys and their fascination with being the bigger cock? Like it was the say all, be all in a successful marriage. Shit... my first husband was even bigger than Steve and where did that get me? Two kids, an abundance of mistresses, and a divorce. That's right. My first husband cheated on me. Cheated like a dog in heat. His defense? Once women found out he was hung like a porn star, they pursued him so hard he finally broke (ten different women that I was aware of, anyway).
I squeezed his growing junk a little harder than he was prepared for, causing him to wince in discomfort. "So, all it takes is a big cock for a happy marriage? Is that the bullshit you're feeding me, Steve? Tell me, how's that working out for Anita?" His face flushed at the mention of his wife again.
"Hey, you're just as shitty of a spouse as I am!" That was his rebuttal. Weak, but accurate.
I didn't want this to escalate any further. I knew breaking it off would be tough because things were so smooth. Working together had given us the natural opportunity and reasonable grounds for spending so much time together in his office. It had only been a half a dozen times, but once was too many. We were extremely cautious and thankfully nobody in the office ever gave us a second glance of suspicion. Even his secretary had no clue. As I slipped my last heel on, I stood in front of naked Steve and tried my best to lower the temperature.
Was the sex better? No, not even close. It was different... exciting in a daring way. The newness of it all as you fumbled towards a fresh experience. I hadn't had many before Jerry, was that why I did this? Some sick twist to catch up on experiences I missed? Was I really that shallow? Whatever the true answer was, I already knew what I was now.
"Steve. Jerry... Anita, they deserve better, and we owe it to them, to be better. This..." I flipped my finger back and forth between us, "shouldn't have happened. I'm as much at fault as you are. I could've said no, but I didn't. I don't think either of us thought it would go any further than that night after the office celebration." I stepped closer and put my hand on his cheek. "I didn't go looking for this and I believe neither did you. It was new, exciting, even dangerous." I turned to put my coat on. "My forever is with Jerry and I'm no longer going to risk the love of a man that has given me so much of himself." I departed for his office door and opened it with no regard for who may be on the other side. Mainly because I knew no one else would be there. It was Christmas Eve after all. "Go home, Steve, and kiss your wife. Merry Christmas."
Three steps were as far as I got before he leaned out of his office, still very naked. "We both know you're going to miss getting hammered by a real cock, Mimi. Come see me when you come to your senses."
His indignation stopped me in my tracks; I turned to face him. "You know, we didn't get together because I knew you had a big cock. I had no idea. Was it a nice surprise? Sure. I know you have a hard time understanding this, but Jerry knows how to take care of me. Nobody knows my body like him. You're not even in his league, Steve. My name is Marie. You don't have the right to use my pet name."
"Really? That's what you tell yourself when you're screaming for more of my big cock? If he's so great in the sack, why were we fucking like rabbits on my office couch?"
I let out a huge sigh. "Honestly? If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn't be here staring at your skinny chicken legs." So childish, I thought, but enough was enough. His outburst made me question why I ever let myself get involved with him in the first place; oh right... alcohol. Like I said earlier... so fucking stupid!
I stepped off the elevator, into the underground parking lot, and headed to my Mercedes SUV. I inwardly chuckled at my shot at Steve's legs. He was skinny all over, nothing like Jerry. Jerry was a semi-pro linebacker years before and he kept that 6'4", 235lb body as solid today as he did back in his 20's. His driver's license said he was 52 but he didn't look a day over 30. The only thing giving away his age was the feathering of grey along his temples. Personally, I loved the look on him.
I exited from the underground parking lot and easily made my way onto the expressway. The trip usually took 40 minutes, but with so little traffic, I hoped to make it closer to 30. I caught myself checking my rearview mirror. I held my own eyes for a moment, internally questioning myself for my poor indiscretions. I could still recall the visceral pain of finding out Peter, my first husband, had cheated on me. The self-doubt was almost crippling as I tried to understand what I did wrong. Why did he feel the need to seek sex outside of our bedroom? With other women? I took a lot of therapy to help me find myself again.
The worst of it was Peter could never give me a reason for his infidelity. He said it wasn't me, but how could that be? "I don't know why," was all he could say to me. How is it, that I now find myself on the other side of that scenario, and suddenly his excuses of - I don't know - made more sense? I shuttered at my pathetic rationale and pushed the guilt deep down with renewed vigor thanks to the awakening I finally had.
I spent 5 years as a single mom of two, scraping by. Not only did my ex have a big dick, but he acted like one as well. He went out of his way trying to avoid his childcare and alimony payments. Twice I had taken him to court for his derelict payments, only to see them fall off a few months later. Our kids barely knew him when we divorced, and that situation only got worse in the following years. I doubt Peter even knows what they look like now. But when I felt like my life would always be a struggle, Jerry entered my world.
We had been acquaintances from years back. He and Peter played football together as young adults. They weren't friends, but teammates and I had come across the big guy more than a few times in our early years. Of course, I had heard about his financial successes. His savvy business investing did very well for him. He eventually became a repo man for failing businesses, buying on the penny but stripping and selling by the dollar. He sold a small software company to a larger competitor for millions, it was many years later that I found out he was also an anonymous benefactor for numerous women's shelters in our state.
Our chance meeting happened at an Olive Garden of all the places. It was a rare night out for me and my daughter Kim (14) and son, Vince (16). As we waited for our table, I saw him walk in by himself. For a man, worth millions, you'd never know by the way he dressed. That evening he was wearing brown khaki shorts with a light blue sweater and open-toed sandals (no socks, thank God!). We made brief eye contact as he put his name down for a table. When the hostess had it, he walked over to say hi.
He was so gracious, even shaking the hands of my children. When our table was called, I wished him a nice evening with his party. I found out he was dining alone, so I invited him to sit with us. By the grace of God, he accepted. I smiled to myself as I drove home, reflecting warmly on how that innocent dinner blossomed into a marriage 16 months later... a real marriage.
The kids took to him in no time, and he invested in them just as easily. From years of scratching to get by, we lived in comfort under a roof full of love. Although he had the means, Jerry didn't spoil us with material things, he was all about opportunities. He opened doors once closed to my (our) children, making them believe they could be successful at anything. When Kim was accepted at Johns Hopkins University to pursue medicine, Jerry made it happen. Likewise, when Vince earned a partial scholarship to MIT in their engineering program, Jerry made it work.
As for me, I earned a paralegal degree and began working for a local firm that Jerry had recommended. He told me I didn't have to work but I needed him to know that I was not a freeloader and wanted to contribute. Three years later I was recruited by a larger firm and that's how I ended up working under Steve. I frowned at the term, working under him. It was factually accurate for the last 4 months.
I shook off my last thoughts like a spider's web. Was it temporary insanity? It must've been. Steve could never hold a candle to the type of man Jerry is. The big, domineering man was a huge teddy bear on the inside unless you found his bad side, or it was about sex. The way he could toss me around our large king-sized bed sent tingles down below. I giggled out loud thinking about the first time we made love. For a big, powerful man he became extremely vulnerable that night.
You see, like I said earlier, Jerry played with Peter and as a result, he had shared enough shower time with the guy to know what he was packing. He humbly told me that he wasn't anywhere near the same down below and if it was a deal breaker, he would understand. The thought had never crossed my mind. This wonderful man could never disappoint me, and I did my best to assure him of that. While we started tentatively, Jerry let his insecurities go and pounded me into oblivion. God... he played my body like a Stradivarius, and he was a world-class violinist! His average-sized equipment took me to heights I never knew possible.
I shivered thinking about his lips and hands; how they knew every erogenous spot on my body. I then shook my head in disgust at how I had removed that aspect of our life via my own guilty conscience. "NEVER AGAIN!" I yelled at myself and focused on getting myself home to rectify my stupidity.
35 minutes later I pulled into our large driveway and parked inside the middle garage. With one last look into my rearview mirror, I made sure I was presentable. Like every other time, the guilt of my act with Steve was working overtime on my guts. "Last time, girl." I whispered out loud. "You'll never feel like this again because you'll never do it again." I mentally patted myself on the back for the new leaf I was about to turn over. Screwing up 4 months of a 10-year marriage wasn't too bad I convinced myself. I'm going to spend the rest of my life making this up to Jerry and be the best wife he deserves.
I stepped from my vehicle and walked through the side door into our very large foyer. Christmas music was playing in the background, along with voices and laughter. I hadn't expected company. Our massive Christmas tree was providing the savory smells of pine, quickly whipping me into the Christmas spirit. I loved this time of year most of all and Jerry never disappointed.
"There she is!" The voice was different but familiar. With my coat off, I turned around and almost fainted.
"MOM? DAD?" What? When... how did they get here?
'There's our girl!" My parents rushed to me and wrapped me in a huge hug. I hadn't seen them in a few years. They moved to Vietnam to spend their retirement years. Yeah, I know... I don't get it either, but they love it. I guess it's become more metropolitan since those war movies. Their dollar stretches so much further there too.
I had tears running down my face. "I can't believe you're here! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" I couldn't let either of them go.
"That husband of yours was so persistent that he sent us tickets and gave us a stern talking to." My dad laughed. My parents loved Jerry, of course. It was because of him they could stop worrying about me and the kids. They could retire in peace.
I looked for my husband, but he was nowhere to be seen. I walked between my parents into our large living room, arm in arm. Being this close to them at Christmas was a wonderful surprise.
"Hi, Mom." The female voice drew my attention up to the wrap-around hallway. Our massive living space was an open concept, which meant the hallway that traversed three walls was like an internal balcony, intersecting every door of the five bedrooms located upstairs.
My heart was up in my throat, again. "Kimmie?!" I half cried and screamed. I watched my daughter dart down the hall, and down the stairs where I eagerly awaited her. She slammed into me, wrapping each other up in a long overdue hug.
"Merry Christmas, Mommy!" If you have a daughter in her mid-twenties who still refers to you as mommy, you know how swollen my heart was at that moment.
"Kimmie! Oh my God! What are you doing home?" She was currently doing her surgical residency in France as part of a doctor exchange program. It was deemed impossible for her to come back home for the full four years, yet here she was. "How is this possible?" I cried as I squeezed her even tighter.
My parents were laughing and crying at the reunion. It had been years since they'd seen their granddaughter too, although I sensed they had seen each other already tonight. We finally released each other, and I took in the beautiful 5'8" sight that was my grown-up daughter.
"You know when Jerry has his mind set on something..." She started, but I had to hug her again.
"That man..." I whimpered into her ear. We were both crying at this point. I ultimately released her again and took her cheeks in my hands. "God you are so beautiful." My compliment made her giggle. "Speaking of that man. Where is my husband?"
"I think he's in the kitchen. Something about getting the hors d'oeuvres out." My mother explained as I looked around.
While our dining area was part of the open concept, Jerry had the large kitchen separated by some swing doors, as you'd see on a saloon in those old Westerns. I chuckled knowing my husband would never hire a caterer. He loved to cook and who was I to rob him of his enjoyment.
"Why don't you go see him, honey." My dad encouraged me. "He's gone through a lot of trouble for tonight."
I smiled at my dad, understanding just how true that was. I couldn't wait to give him a proper thank you for making this Christmas so special. I gave them all a kiss and made my way to the kitchen through the door, I wished that Vince was here to experience all this. He was in Germany this year with his wife of 18 months, visiting her family this Christmas. While it was sadly noted it didn't mute the excitement my husband brought me this year. I pushed through the swing doors...
"Alright Mr. Wonderful, I..."
"Merry Christmas, Mom."
I honestly thought I was seeing things. Instead of encountering my husband, standing behind the kitchen counter were my son Vince and his wife Peita. Him in a button-down white oxford and her in a beautiful red dress that highlighted her porcelain skin.
So overcome by my emotions, I froze mid-step while both my hands shot over my mouth and nose. Then the tears started. Everything about the night hit me over the head and my emotions took over... I began sobbing.
"Mom! Mom! Are you okay?" Vince ran from behind the counter and enveloped me in his strong arms before I fell over. He shushed me, carefully guiding me to a seat around our breakfast nook. "Mom, it's okay." His voice finally penetrated my emotional overload. When I opened my eyes, he was sitting right in front of me with his big handsome grin. My eyes darted up to Peita, who was standing behind him, tears falling from her eyes too.
"Oh Vince!" I hugged him like a python.
"Easy Mom, you're going to break a rib." He teased me and it was my turn to shush him. I reached out behind and drew his wife into my hug as well.
"I... I thought you were in Germany?" I asked when I finally released them. "Isn't it your year to visit with Peita's parents?"
"That was the plan." He looked back at his wife. "But you know Jerry, when he gets an idea..." They both smirked.
I looked up at my daughter-in-law. "I'm sorry you won't be seeing your parents this year Peita. I'm sure they are disappointed you won't be visiting."
Death by 1000 Cuts
I sipped my whiskey and thought about how cliché the night had been. We (Claire and I) had been out with friends (read that as, her friends) when, despite my objections, or maybe just to spite them, she went dancing off with another guy. Some rando, although I wouldn't be surprised at this point if she had known him.
When I commented that was my cue to leave, her friends objected. "It's just a dance, Ralph. It doesn't mean anything." "He's just a guy that wants to dance. Jesus, don't make a federal case out of it." And her bestie's snide little, "What's a'matter, Ralphie. Can't stand a little competition." While I was tempted to reply, that next to me, it probably would seem little, but I didn't want to excite her. Besides, Claire would probably correct any misconception.
"No, she can dance with whomever she wants. She's right. I don't own her." I threw some bills on the table. I calculated that I was probably shorting them about $30, but fuck 'em. "But she forgets that she doesn't own me either. I'm not compelled to sit here with a bunch of boring fucks and watch some assbite rub himself all over my ex-wife."
I walked away to a chorus of "Ex? Ex!" I surprised myself by actually laughing as I drove away.
[*]
I'd left just shy of 10 o'clock. It was now pushing 3 AM. The bottle was almost empty. I had only stayed up because I didn't want to be awakened solely for an argument, and because I wanted to finish off the good Scotch in the probability that I wasn't going to be here tomorrow night. I poured out the last of the whiskey when I heard a car pull up our driveway.
I waited a few minutes, and when the door didn't open, I went and peeked out the window. The "rando" had driven her home, and they were having a discussion, parked in our driveway.
I had been sitting in the dark, so I was fairly sure that I couldn't be seen staring out the crack in the curtains. I watched as they continued talking for several minutes, then my wife reached over and caressed his cheek with her hand. They leaned together and lightly kissed. Then Claire exited the car, and I returned to my easy chair.
She came in the door touching up her lipstick. Believing the dark house meant I was in bed, asleep, she calmly continued to fix herself up, preparing to wake me for what I was sure would be an outpouring of indignation at my abandonment of her. She wasn't aware of my presence until I spoke.
"Get lost on the way home?"
She looked up, startled. I was tempted to laugh again as the lipstick tracked off her lips a little, giving her tentative smile a lopsided look. "No. I waited for you to return, but you never came."
"I'm surprised you guys stayed so late. Both Anne and Bessie said they had to get home by 10 to get the kids from the babysitter." They hadn't said that tonight, but that was their usual excuse.
"Oh, no, they did leave. They had to get home," she said casually, as she hung up her jacket in the closet.
"So, your bestie Easy drove you home." I was betting she would avoid the question.
"I've told you before not to call her that. Her name's Lousia, and we call her 'Leasy'. Your habit of calling her Easy is just insulting." So, there was not going to be an answer to my question.
"Well, if the shoe fits, that slut should have six-inch rounded heels." I chuckled at my own wit as I took a sip. "So, you stayed at the club the whole time?"
"Yeah." Claire plopped down in the other chair, throwing her legs over one of its arms and resting against the other.
I let the silence hang for a beat, then said, "I called, Claire. I called the club at one." I hadn't, but I was sure she wouldn't know that.
Smoothly, she lied, "Oh, we went to a coffee place for a cup. I wanted to give you time to get over your bruised ego."
"Well, then, back to my original question. Sleezy drove you home?" I thought I'd give her another reason to avoid my question.
"Stop calling her names. She's my best friend, and a good person." My wife huffed like the big bad wolf, but unfortunately there was no straw house to knock down.
"This 'good person' drove you home?" I thought eventually, she'd give me an answer. However, you'd think that after 10 years of marriage, I'd know the woman.
"Ralph, I'm not going to sit here and be interrogated. I'm going to bed." She stomped out of the room, then stuck her head back in the door. "And don't think you're coming to our bed tonight."
As she turned again to leave, I replied, "Fine with me. I don't do sloppy seconds."
That stopped her. "What are you accusing me of? I've never cheated on you." She had come back to stand over me, hands on hips and indignation all over her face.
"I saw your dance partner and who drove my loving wife home." I calmly sipped the nectar of the Highlands. "Let me see. You left the club before one and had coffee with him for over two hours?"
"He was worried about me after you left, so he came with us to the coffee shop." She makes it all so believable, with that beautiful voice and lovely lips.
"You, your bestie, and... Matt?" I asked.
"Yes, of course! There's nothing going on, Ralph. You and your fragile little ego have to get over this. It was one fucking dance, not an affair." She blustered.
I pulled out my phone. "I'll call Matt. I think I shorted them on the drinks, and we should probably pay for, what, two hours of coffee, if they were just there to support you. I'll just find out what we owe."
I saw a little panic set in, then. "Ralph," she almost yelled my name. "It's 3 o'clock in the morning. You can't call them now."
"Why not? If they were at the coffee shop with you, they're probably not asleep yet." I suggested as I dialed. "Or is Matt going to tell me that they left with the others, as usual? That he needed to be in bed by midnight, same as always?"
Claire, defeated, sat back down. "Okay, just Ben and I went for coffee. I was upset and didn't want to rush home to an argument."
"And you thought staying out until three and then making out in the driveway would avoid an argument?" I finished the Scotch, and wondered if I should leave the single malt taste in my mouth or move onto the blended bottle.
"We didn't make out in the driveway. Damn it, Ralph, I didn't cheat on you." Claire played for sympathy now, turning on her tears.
"Claire, I was watching." I pointed to the crack in the curtains.
"It was just a kiss! He was so sweet and worried about me, I just..." she trailed off as she saw the expression on my face, "...wanted to thank him."
"Should I be happy that he'd just a good listener? I mean, anything more serious, like sympathetic understanding, might have required a blowjob or a fuck as thanks." I snarled. Then I got angry with myself for letting my feelings show. Obviously, drinking whiskey wasn't conducive to a calm discussion. "That was unkind of me. I'm sorry. I'm sure your 'thank you's' are always properly appropriate."
I sighed. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I don't own you or your body. You can fuck whomever you want. I've put up with your disrespect for years. I've given up things I loved, for you. I stayed and put up with it all for the kid's sake, and for Ben's sake alone, I let it go because I just didn't care anymore, and it was just easier to go on."
Claire looked startled, and then angry. "What are you saying? You've put up? With what? I've never cheated on you!" She jumped out of the chair, unable to sit still. "You've given up, what? You've never given up shit. If anyone's sacrificed, it's been me.
"I was pregnant, for God's sakes, and nursed Ben. I love him, but my body's never been the same. I gave up my career to raise your kid, keep your house, entertain your friends. What did you ever do? What did you ever give up?"
I thought again of the big, bad wolf, as now Claire was actually huffing and puffing in indignation.
"Sit the fuck down and I'll tell you." I got up and got the Johnny Walker out. Claire had put a bad taste in my mouth, so why not. I didn't offer my wife a glass.
"Claire, do you remember when we dated? And when we were newlyweds?" The black label scotch was not bad, but I had gulped that first sip. I should have savored it a little.
"Of course I remember," my loving bride snapped at me.
I half closed my eyes, remembering a better time. "We didn't' have much money, with me still in college and you working clerical, but we had to be together as much as possible. It was painful to be apart." I stopped for a moment, choked up remembering my beautiful, loving bride. I covered the pause by taking another sip of scotch.
"Do you remember how we filled the time, most nights?" I looked over at my angry wife. "We played games, just to spend time together, when there was no money. Cribbage, backgammon, cards, checkers, chess, anything, just to be together.
"I usually won, but when you did, you'd crow and celebrate like you won the Olympics. I loved that, your smiling face, so happy. Of course, I hated to lose and would instantly demand a rematch. I admitted then and now, that's a flaw in my personality, but I do hate to lose. I don't think I was an abusive loser. I didn't belittle you or try to demean your win; I never said that I should have won, or you wouldn't have won if, or anything else which would have diminished your enjoyment. I always congratulated you. I just wanted another chance to win. I was enjoying myself, and thought you were as well.
"You'd tease me about what a bad loser I was, and I think I took it in good grace. I thought it was part of our friendly competition. But then we couldn't play any games with anyone without you going on about what a poor loser I was and how my fragile little ego couldn't take losing." I looked at her and shook my head. "I know you'll dismiss it as teasing, but do you know what it feels like to be run down by your wife in front of her friends and family?
"Do you remember the last time we've played a game? I mean, you and I, not at some get-together with your friends where we're expected to join in, but just you and I, to spend some time together?"
She looked puzzled for a moment, then shook her head. "It's been years. But what does that have to do with anything? We had Ben, we got busy, that's all."
"No, it's been since before Ben." I said, "We put away the games long before Ben was born. I stopped wanting to play. Maybe I should have talked to you about it, but I thought if my being a 'poor loser' was such a big deal, then I should just stop playing." I was surprised my glass was already empty and refilled it. "I did think it funny that in my whole life only my loving wife accused me of being a sore loser, but finally decided that since I won most of the time, it was really my winning that bothered you, not my attitude about losing.
"Somehow, I guess, I made you feel like less. It's not something I can help. I'm good at games and I'm lucky. I tried losing for a while, but it just made you crow even louder and abuse me even more. Even your friends started joining in.
"So, rather than trouble you with either my winning or losing, even though I've always enjoyed games, I just stopped playing anything with you, unless we were in a group and not playing would seem churlish. You never even seemed to notice. Whenever I tried to gracefully bow out of playing, you'd tell everyone it was because of what a poor loser I am."
She mumbled again about how we'd just gotten busy.
"Do you remember when we used to go walking in the woods, along the beach, or up in the hills? We were still doing that when Ben was a little kid. He and I have continued, without you, but do you remember the last time you and I went for a walk like that? We used to spend a lot of time outside, again, because we had no money, and it was always so beautiful.
"And it was an excuse to spend time with you. I loved you so much and I loved having you all to myself in the quiet of the woods... Plus, I tried teaching you and Ben the things my dad taught me about nature. But that seemed to irritate you. I remember you started commenting to my son that his father was a know-it-all.
"But then, I walked into a spider web, and panicked a little, thinking the spider might be crawling on me. I don't mind spiders, but still, I don't want one crawling down my collar, so I begged you to brush it off and make sure it wasn't on me. Well, you turned that into a full-blown case of arachnophobia. Spiders couldn't be mentioned without you going on and on about how fearful I was of spiders.
"It's funny. Spiders have always fascinated me, and I've shown you them in their webs and explained the different kinds of spiders and how helpful they are at keeping down the insect population. They're wonderful creatures, but I don't want them crawling on me and I don't want to have them bite me. I think that's pretty normal. And I've seen you panic at seeing a spider on the wall or ceiling and have had you beg me to kill them and get rid of them.
"So, when was the last time we went walking in the woods?" I held up my hand. "Don't bother. I don't remember either. It's been at least five years and you're still trotting out the spider story.
"Again, you'll say it's just teasing, but you seem to feel the need to run me down in front of others. You're a loving wife most of the time, but if you think I have a weakness or a flaw, you just have to keep poking at it, until everyone's uncomfortable."
"I do not do that! God, you can't take any teasing, can you? And no one is ever 'uncomfortable', except for you." She huffed again. "I sorry if I hurt your widdle feelings." As she summarily dismissed my comments, I remembered another thing I had given up, trying to talk to her about things like this.
"Yes, Claire, people were uncomfortable. Maybe not your friends who seem to relish seeing me put down but remember when I had friends of my own. We used to go out and do things with my friends, until you effectively cut them out of our lives. They used to listen to you run me down and they'd ask me if I was really sure that you loved me. I remember Alice telling me that you sure couldn't tell it from the way you talked about me." Alice had been my best friend's wife, now widow.
"Alice, that bitch! She never liked me. And that whole group was so fucking boring, I never had anything to talk about with them. They didn't know anything." She inspected her nails. "And I didn't cut them out. We just developed new friends."
"No, you did cut them out. Though, I admit they didn't fight to include us in their group any longer. You made them uncomfortable when you ran down me. And they were boring, at least to you. They couldn't talk about anything but history, art, science, nature, computers, politics... Nothing you would find interesting. Unlike your current crop of friends."
"Our friends, honey. They our friends, not my friends." She corrected me.
"No, they're definitely your friends. When we get together, the guys can only talk sports or cars, and the women, well, as far as I can tell you girls don't really talk, as in conversations. Outside of TV shows and celebrity news, you just snipe at each other and criticize and complain about other people. A bunch of judgmental bitches, in my opinion.
"Of course, I've overheard you in witty conversation with them, as you run down my sexual performance. What was it?" I sipped the Scotch as I tried to recall it verbatim. "'He couldn't find my clitoris if I tattooed myself with a road map to it!'
"That got a lot of laughs, didn't it? But when I overheard it and stepped in with my comment, you didn't like the laughter that followed that, did you?"
"Well damn you, you implied that I was a whore." She glared at the memory.
"All I said was I usually couldn't find it because some other guy had his hand over it." I smiled at the memory. "I thought it was funny at the time.
"But, yeah, they're your friends, but I gave up doing things with mine because every weekend, every free night, is taken up with your group. I only get to see my friends when you're away on your girls' trips to the spa. But both you and they seem to prefer it that way.
"Those are just some of the things I've given up. And sure, I could have objected, but to what point? More arguments? I've never gotten you to stop your 'teasing', although I used to ask you to. I stopped when the only effect my requests had was for you to start looking surprised when you talked about my being a poor loser terrified of spiders, and saying, 'Oh, I'm not supposed to say that, am I? It hurts lil' Ralphie's widdle feelings.'
"I put up with it longer than I should have. I shouldn't have put up with it at all. I thought I was a big enough man to stand a little teasing, especially since, for the longest time now, it'd only be in front of assholes whose opinions I really don't care about.
"But each of your comments, each time your friends joined in on me, each time was a little cut into my love for you."
I slugged the remainder of the Scotch down and got up. As I placed the Johnny Walker back into the cabinet, I continued. "Well, that was probably a mistake to put up with it. I don't think it helped Ben, and now's the time to fix it. Ben's not getting the loving home he deserves, and unless I want to 'tease' you back, there's no reason for any of this. I no longer care.
"Dance with whomever you want. Kiss 'em, blow 'em, fuck 'em. Do whatever you want. It'll have nothing to do with me after tomorrow. I'll take my 'fragile widdle ego' to the lawyer's and get the paperwork started to allow you the freedom to do whoever or whatever you want."
"Go ahead! I'll take you for every penny you have, and then some, Ralphie!" She knew I hated that nickname.
I got up and started to put the bottle back in the cabinet, but decided instead that it should accompany me to the guest room.
I stopped at the doorway. "I just remembered on other thing I gave up, some years ago. Something, that if your 1000 little cuts hadn't killed my love for you, would have hacked it to bits.
"Remember John Wilson? Or Pete Reardon. Or maybe that band, the, uh, what was their name?" I looked at Cheryl.
She was staring at me with the look of a deer in the headlights. "Whaaat?" she stuttered.
"Oh, yes, the Wife-Savers," I recalled.
"The Life-Savers," she automatically corrected me. "They were all paramedics."
"Oh, yeah. Well, they sure gave you and Sleazy the staffs of life during those gangbangs, didn't they?" I turned to go to bed. "I gave up giving a damn, back then. But then I found out you were leaving Ben alone downstairs while 'engaging' your love de jour upstairs. You'll be served this week. For adultery. It mightn't make a difference, but it is my chance to tease you back, slut. And my lawyer says it's fairly good grounds for primary custody.
"It's a surprising long list of affairs, too, isn't it. My lawyer's listing them all, at least all the ones we have proof of. Thank you, by the way, for insisting I install that security system.
"Let's see, John, Pete, the Wife-Fuckers, and then there's Will Trellis, Jim Johnson, the boys at Firehouse 78, oh, and Sleazy will love this, Matt. Or does Easy already know you're fucking her husband, along with the guys you're fucking together with her?"
Claire paled. "You can't! You can't list all those men. You'll ruin their marriages, destroy their families..."
"No, sweetheart. I'm not. You already did. I'm sending all the applicable wives and girlfriends my proof, all on an easy-to-use DVD, just so they won't be blindsided. I've included my lawyer's card.
"If I were you, I wouldn't go to work tomorrow. How many husbands of your co-workers have had their hands over your clitoris when I was looking for it?"
I looked at my wife, now openly sobbing, defeated, "You don't need to tattoo that road map, sweetie," I teased, "All your lovers will have to do is stop any random guy and ask directions. I'm sure they'll know the way."
Back seat: Mom and Sis Ride Brother
s
My son, Lucas, was heading off to college. It was a relatively cool August day, by Austin standards, in the low 90s. Lucas, and my husband Cody and I, were building up a sweat loading our big Lexus SUV. The front passenger seat and the cargo area behind the back seat were already stuffed full of moving boxes. Lucas and I were trying to fit a big framed acrylic painting my son had done, on the floor of the back seat. It was a seemingly abstract painting where, if you looked long enough, you'd suddenly see a nude with olive skin and slim thicc curves. Which, coincidentally, is an accurate description of me. I'm short, five feet even, with large breasts and an even more curvy booty.
I've had unsolicited comments by many men that I'm a good looking woman, especially for being in my mid-30s. And if you've done the math on that... well, I don't recommend following my lead and being a pregnant teenager. Especially with a handsome but integrity challenged man who, I belatedly discovered, viewed our marriage vows as more of a guideline than a strict rule. As in, recently finding out he was cheating on me with what I had to assume, knowing his character, was a barely legal girl who likely needed fake ID to buy liquor. Basically, a potential trophy wife to recapture his youth.
My husband hadn't even done me the courtesy of being discreet, and then had compounded it by lying to me - while I was smelling a perfume I've never worn, the scent of her pussy, and the unmistakable odor of recent sex. Having your man tell you he's not cheating even though he smells of The Other Woman's cunt, because he doesn't grasp that you're smarter than him and have a much better sense of smell, is not conducive to a loving relationship.
The lying is arguably worse than the infidelity -- if he had had the cojones to fess up and end that affair, I might have forgiven him, since I inexplicably still love the cheating bastard. Because he'd doubled down on lies, the frequency with which we'd had sex in the tumultuous week since, had plummeted to Not At All. He wasn't particularly interested anyway, what with having a younger girl to fuck. And I wasn't inclined to be his backup side chick, what with having self-respect and all.
********************
Cody stared at the painting taking up most of the floor space behind the front seats, and obstructing the SUV's view to the rear. "That can't go. I gotta see traffic behind me."
The first rule of parenting is Make It The Kid's Problem To Solve. My husband being a large manchild, I applied that principle: "That's the only place it'll fit. And if we don't take it, you're gonna pay hundreds of dollars to ship that painting."
"Then it stays home."
Lucas had come out with the last armful of boxes, which he was wedging into the seating area behind the painting. "My painting, dad. It's coming with me."
"That painting cuts off most the legroom in the back. We'd only have one usable seat back there. Where's your mom gonna sit?"
"Mom doesn't weigh much. How about it, mom? You mind sitting on my lap?"
"Umm... I guess that's OK? Don't see another way to get everything in the truck."
"Hell no," Cody said. "I'm gonna clear everything off the front seat, and whatever doesn't fit in the car we leave behind. That way you can sit up front with me."
"Do you really think I want to talk to YOU for four hours, considering? I'll hang out with my son."
Lucas' eyes darted back and forth, trying to figure out the contentious discussion between Cody and me. Then his eyes went wide. He's a smart kid. Figured it out.
Before Cody could reply, Lucas said, "Dad. What the hell?"
"I... uhhh--"
"Dad. Just don't. No excuses. And we ain't leaving my stuff here. Mom sits in the back seat with me."
"Fine." His look said it wasn't fine at all, but he desperately didn't want to have that awkward discussion with his kid.
Lucas was still giving Cody a 'Have You Lost Your Damn Mind' look.
"We all smell pretty ripe," I said, changing the subject. "Let's all take showers, and then hit the road so we can arrive before it gets dark."
********************
My shower didn't take long. Four hours is a long time to sit on someone's lap, so I wanted to wear something comfortable - jeans would be too tight. I looked in my closet, then tried on a magenta cotton sundress with thin shoulder straps, and bright red silk underwear. Cute. Not gonna work with a bra though - those spaghetti straps left too much of the bra showing. I took off the dress, removed my bra but left the panties on, and put the sundress back on. I looked in the mirror. Looked kinda hot and naughty with my big breasts -- feature, not a bug, I decided. Make Cody realize what he was missing. The dress was short, ending at mid-thigh.
Hell yeah. You've still got it, girl.
I heard a quick tap of the car horn outside. I took my time heading to the car -- Cody ain't the boss of me, especially after fucking some random tart. I set the alarm and locked the front door.
Lucas was already in the back seat. I sat on his lap and swung my legs into the car. My short dress rode up pretty high, so I tugged it down as much as I could. My son was wearing stylish French Blue shorts and a black t-shirt. He's a tall kid, athletic and tanned and good looking, with light brown hair and green eyes. He looked quite a lot like his father did at that age, except Cody had a lighter complexion, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.
Those college girls are gonna looove Lucas, I thought.
I could feel the back of my bare legs being tickled by the hair on my son's muscular bare legs. "Are you comfortable?" I asked Lucas.
"It's fine, mom. You don't weigh much."
"You gonna use flattery like that with all those college girls?"
"Damn straight," he said. "It's worked great so far. I --"
"Annnd... TMI."
I looked over the top of the painting at my husband's face. The painting was blocking the view between the two front seats, so we could only see each other from the neck up. "Do you have enough legroom to drive?" I asked him.
"Sure," he answered. "Are you gonna be comfortable, sitting like that for four hours?"
I wriggled around on my son's lap. "Yeah. It's a tight fit, but it'll do." I grabbed a pillow that had been wedged in the back of the car and placed it between us, against Lucas' torso. Then I wiggled partly to the side and rested my head against Lucas' pillow-clad right shoulder, snuggling up. My forehead rested against his warm cheek. I breathed in the scent of his skin mingled with the woodsy cologne he had dabbed on. He smelled sooo good. It felt comforting to cuddle up against his tall body. I closed my eyes. "Kinda worn out. Think I'll try to nap."
Cody fired up the car, backed out of the driveway into the quiet residential street, and took off, the powerful engine quietly rumbling as he accelerated. He tapped the radio controls on the steering wheel until he got to Nirvana's "Come As You Are" playing on the local indie hipster college station.
I started to feel something a bit stiff pressing against my butt. I wriggled around to get comfortable, but that only made it harder.
Hunh. How big is that going to get? Does Lucas think I can't feel it between my cheeks? I opened my eyes to take a peek.
My dress had risen up while I wriggled, enough for my lacy red panties to peek out. I wondered if Lucas could see that. I thought about tugging my dress down to cover my panties, but realized I was getting a bit of a thrill from having my dress hiked up.
I'm so horny. Jesus, just a week without sex, and it's turning me into a bad mom. I really need to jill off when I get home. Fuck. I'm getting wet.
I opened my eyes wider and, looking up, raised my eyebrows at Lucas.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear, his sexy deep voice rumbling, "Sorry. Can't help it. Do you want dad to turn around and go home?"
Mmm, I thought. Feels so good.
"I guess it's OK," I whispered back, trying to keep my voice nonchalant despite my rising libido. "Teenaged boys - you can't help it. Do YOU want to go back?"
"No. It's innocent, yeah?"
"Mmm-hmm," I whispered, trying to keep from moaning. "Totally."
Fortunately my husband couldn't see how high my dress was, or how aroused I was getting, or he'd pull a screeching U-turn and head home, protests from the back be damned.
I felt my son's hands on my panties, gently pushing me up. "I... uh... gotta get my johnson free," he whispered. "Kinda hurting, being bent."
Johnson? I thought. Do the yutes still use that euphemism?
I raised my booty enough so he could adjust himself. He smoothly moved the back of my dress out of the way. That left his prick nestled against the cleft of my cheeks and touching my lower back, with only the cotton of his shorts and the silk of my panties between us. "That's better," he murmured.
Damn, I thought. How big IS he? I closed my eyes. "Mmm," I murmured. "Sleepy."
His hands remained under my dress, very still, but continuing to hold the sides of my big booty through the lacy silk of the panties. As if I wasn't gonna notice the polished maneuver where he'd got my dress out of the way and his hands on my butt. Like he'd practiced this bold tactic on plenty of dates.
I kept my eyes closed, giving him plausible deniability, since his warm hands on my booty felt really good after a week of not allowing my husband to touch me.
I must have drifted off. I woke up and felt Lucas oh so cautiously squeezing my big sexy buns. The pillow must have slipped off while I napped, so I was resting directly against Lucas' hard athletic torso, which was radiating heat like a furnace. I wondered how long he'd been slyly feeling me up, but I didn't react, feigning I was still asleep. My pussy had reacted, though. It was slick and wet from the delicious touching.
His squeezing slowly got bolder. He eventually slowly slid his hands forward along the outside of my buttocks and then thighs, his hot skin sending little electric jolts into my brain, until his hands rested mid-thigh on my bare skin. He gave an affectionate squeeze, then slid his thumbs toward the inside of my thighs and the cleft of my legs.
I stirred a bit in my 'sleep', then shifted on Lucas' lap until my thighs were 'accidentally' parted more. I took a peek through barely slitted eyes at the rear view mirror up front.
My husband's eyes glanced back occasionally, ostensibly checking traffic through the narrow tunnel he'd cleared through the boxes in the back. But, he'd tilted the mirror so his right eye could meet mine when he looked back. Which meant, despite the seat back obscuring his view behind, he could see the right side of our faces over the top of the painting, unless we scootched to the left toward the door. But mostly he kept his eyes on the road, and appeared oblivious to the sensuous seduction behind him.
I closed my eyes again. Lucas took advantage of the opening of my thighs to slide his thumbs deeper into the valley of my legs, then slowly moved them up my inner thighs, barely touching my panties. He teased me, trailing his thumbs along the outside of my panties, not quite touching my trimmed pussy hair.
I was having a difficult time not moaning, and despite my best efforts to be still I felt my hips swaying a tiny bit side to side. Lucas reciprocated by bumping his hips forward a fraction, pushing his stiff cock deeper toward the cleft of my butt. The layers of intervening fabric - my panties and his shorts - stretched and resisted his progress forward, protecting me against my arousal and the rising need to feel his stiffness sliding deeper between my buns.
The hell with it, I thought. I kept my eyes closed in case my husband glanced back, still pretending to sleep, but I rested my hands on the top of Lucas' warm hands.
I felt him freeze, now that I had removed the pretense that this was entirely innocent. I began rubbing the top of his hands, gently at first then more insistently, covertly taking revenge on my cheating husband. I grasped his hands and moved them oh so slowly upwards, guiding him, letting him know my needs. He didn't resist, instead gently pressing his lips into the curly black hair covering the back of my neck, giving me a quiet thrill from the intimacy of that touch.
I guided his hands up, under my dress, his hands gliding over my bare smooth skin. His thumbs bumped into, then over, the slight crease of skin where my full thighs met my gently curved belly. He let me tease him by slowly moving his hands up along my torso, journeying toward my full breasts. I stopped when his thumbs were stroking the soft embrace of the underside of my large breasts. The curvy ripeness of a mature woman, not the flatness of a skinny teen girl whose breasts still defied gravity instead of being deliciously shaped by it.
I released his hands, to let him decide. I felt him relax, his body no longer tensed against me from indecision. Accepting the offer of my body.
He paused, presumably to check he wasn't being watched in the rear view mirror, then kissed my left earlobe -- the one my husband couldn't see -- and breathed hotly into my ear, with a low moan of passion.
His hands began to roam over my breasts, touching and squeezing and feeling their weight. I felt a jolt run through me as his fingers rubbed then twisted my nipples until they were hard. He was hard further below also, his hips humping into mine as I pushed back with my butt, my eyes still closed to maintain the illusion of propriety when Cody glanced back.
Lucas' right hand continued to explore my nipples and breasts, but his left hand journeyed back down until his fingers touched the top of my panties, pausing. Waiting for consent.
I took his left hand and guided it inside my panties, onto the trimmed pubic hair. He left his hand there, still waiting for direction. I parted my thighs a little more and guided him to my soaking wet pussy.
I heard him stifle a moan. His hand gingerly slid down my slippery pussy lips, and I reflexively arched forward against the delicious pressure. His hands stopped, one cupping my pubic mound below, one cupping my breast above, like he was either indecisive about doing more, or just inexperienced about how to pleasure a woman like this. I guided his thumb to my clitoris and showed him how to touch it.
Oh god it felt so good inside my body, my nerves thrumming, electrons charging around and stimulating an endorphin rush inside part of my head, flooding me with dopamine and oxytocin. Another part of my head struggled to accept what a naughty bad mom I was being.
My body jolted involuntarily when he slid a finger inside my wet pussy, shoving it deep inside. And, apparently being more skilled about this than he had let on, touched my G-spot.
I fought to maintain control over my facial expression as my hips humped and weaved and embraced the magic presents he was giving me with his touch.
His right hand slipped down my waist and then cupped my ass, gently nudging me up. I raised my buttocks off the seat an inch or so, consenting, and Lucas hooked a thumb on the right side of my panties and tried unsuccessfully to pull them down. I hooked the left side of my panties, and together we pulled them down to my knees. I pressed my thighs together, trapping his finger inside my pussy, and then gravity took over and my panties fell down to my ankles. I freed my feet from the lacy silk, then parted my thighs wider. He took the hint - I was so wet he sunk a second finger inside me at once. I softly moaned.
I felt his hardness nestling deeper inside the cleft of my buns, his bare skin hot against mine.
What the --
I suddenly realized that when I had raised my hips to get my panties off, he had sneakily unzipped and pulled his shorts down, freeing his bare cock.
That was fucking smooth, I thought. This ain't his first rodeo in a back seat. I thought about whispering in his ear to slide his shorts back up.
But, it felt so damn good.
Jesus. What's wrong with me?
My body answered, not a gotdamn thang, my butt muscles clenching against Lucus' stiffness, teasing him. I felt his cock twitch, and I heard his breath catch, a soft "huuh."
"Are you OK?" Cody asked me, glancing at us in the rear view mirror, then his eyes flicked back to the light traffic as he drove through the countryside at 80 MPH or so. I realized I might not have controlled my expression during that internal debate. I froze for a moment, my mind racing. "I'm OK, just a bit stiff in this position." Which technically wasn't a lie, since the 'stiff' part referred to Lucas' hardon. I took the opportunity to twerk my butt under the guise of shifting to a new position, which pressed my son's hardness deeper between my cheeks. Lucas showed his appreciation for this gambit by starting to finger fuck me while his thumb bumped in time to the thrust against my clit.
My husband said, "How much farther 'til you wanna stop for a break? Waco?"
I glanced outside at the road signs, did some quick math despite the mental fuzziness caused by the distraction occurring inside my pussy. Waco was maybe ten minutes away. "I don't want to stop until we go a little further," I said, enjoying the deliberate double entendre. "Maybe stop in that Czech town, West? Eat some kolaches?"
I wasn't sure if anyone else used 'eat some kolaches' to refer to a blowjob, but it seemed like a great euphemism if you lived in Texas. Or Czechoslovakia, though most Czechs would scoff at the blasphemy of calling Pigs In A Blanket 'kolaches'.
"I'd like to go a little further, too," Lucas said, his rumbly voice conveying a hint of amusement at the phrasing, but subtle enough that my husband almost certainly missed it, given his lack of the context. If by 'context' you mean 'getting finger fucked'.
"Sure," Cody said. "I'm OK not stopping yet. Hey, Lucas?"
"Yeah?"
"How are you doing with your mom on your lap?"
"No worries, dad. She keeps moving around so it doesn't get uncomfortable."
My husband's eyes resumed scanning the road ahead.
"Speaking of which, mom, could you raise up a bit to relieve the pressure?"
I did. And felt him slide his cock under me, while his fingers slipped out of my pussy and began guiding his manhood. He started rubbing his cockhead back and forth over my well lubricated pussy lips.
No, I thought. Please don't.
My body ignored that debate from the sidelines, my bottom slowly moving in time to his cockhead's journey over my wetness. I bit my lower lip to keep from moaning.
His cockhead slipped a fraction into my pussy lips. Just the tip. Not yet beyond the point of no return.
My legs were getting tired from hovering over his lap.
I need to do something here. Pull out?
Fuck it.
I pressed my hand against his, gently pushing down. Letting him know I wanted him to go deeper in me. He got the idea and pushed up with his hips, getting just the helmet inside.
I relaxed my legs and sat down, and he sunk all the way inside my well lubricated vagina.
"Fuuuck," Lucas whispered in my ear. "Soo good."
"Mmmm." I clenched my vaginal walls and released. I felt his body jolt, as if he'd never had a girl give him that treat.
18-year-old girls, I thought. The fuck do they know about pleasing men?
I looked over at my husband. It was a good thing the painting was blocking his view. I wasn't particularly enamored of dying in a fiery crash, because he got distracted in traffic by seeing his son's cock buried deep in his wife's pussy.