Incidental Indiscretions

This story is a prequel to "New Years Kisses."

Mirrors are not our friends +++++

Stepping out of the shower and drying off on that cool December night back in 1988, I stood at my mirrored vanity. As a 38-year-old mother of two grown kids, I was about to secretly perform perhaps the sickest of self-confirming rituals.

SELF:

"Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?" I silently asked with raised eyebrow eager for a positive reaffirming sign.

MIRROR:

"Hmm, well if we're talking fair as in "average," then I'd say you're hanging in there."

SELF:

"Okay, the "girls" had slipped a bit lately, but they're still nice, big and round, C'MON!" I pleaded, handily hoisting my double-d's up for a perkier pose.

MIRROR:

"Time for a reality check, Chubby. Sure your tits are admirable; but we're talking fairest of them ALL...right? In which case, I fear MJ has you covered in spades -- HA!"

SELF:

"Stupid fucking mirror!" I covered the undeniable evidence with my towel and gave the mirror one last disgruntled sneer.

MIRROR:

"Hey, let's talk again, once you've dropped say 20 or 25 pounds!" The unforgiving magical monster chided, as my bruised ego and chubby rest-of-me made our getaway.

Whipping open the bathroom door, I immediately crashed into a six-foot tall masculine frame. My towel unhinged itself from between my jugs, which I'm sure offered my son a brief yet revealing view of my mature goodies.

"JOSH, what the hell?" I shrieked, doing my best to pull the white terrycloth towel close enough to prevent a full frontal exposure.

"Sorry Mom; didn't mean to startle you," he calmly assured me, letting his hand cautiously rest on my bare shoulder. His innocent touch sent an unexpected tingle clean through me. [God, I haven't been touched by a man in damn near a month, and it has to be my SON!]

Quickly shifting my trusty towel from vertical back to horizontal I slid from under the warmth of his harmless yet inappropriate touch. Still tingling, I tightly wrapped and secured the towel as before. "So what's the big urgency, and why are you whispering?"

With his wide eyes glued on my deep cleavage, he surely must be in awe of my expertise in towel management--right! Raising both arms to finger-comb my wet locks, I let him ogle to his heart's content. [I mean hell, he is a man and I haven't flirted in such a long time.] When he remained silent to my question, I tossed my hair back and did a one-eighty. Playfully backing my 5-foot, 4-inch frame into him, I leaned back against his chest to make eye contact. "Earth to Josh!" I exclaimed; watching his focus make its way from my chest to my inquiring eyes. [What can I say; my son is a boob man. I love it!]

He gulp/coughed before I felt both hands on my shoulders. This was typically a sign that a massage was soon to follow. He's diligently performed many a shoulder kneading to relieve my recent tension. He knows I love it. Feeling those talented fingers starting to work my bare shoulders, I realized this was his first message with me nearly naked.

"Just wanted to let ya know, I'm on Bastard Patrol tonight; gotta hot lead," he whispered in my ear like an undercover agent (no pun intended). I never wanted to know where he got his hot leads, but I was glad he kept his voice down. With 14-year-old Megan just down the hall, this was information I was ashamed to share with Josh, never mind with his younger sister.

This was more than your normal 'Where's Waldo' case of incidental deception. Josh thought of spying on his old man as cloak and dagger work -- a dark Ninja-type adventure. Fact was I had known for months that Donny had been up to no good with his secretary from work. After several late nights of work-related excuses, I figured the 25-year-old vixen had her hooks out for fresh hubby flesh. Donny, the unsuspecting sap he is, was no doubt having another mid-life meandering.

For Mary Jane Karwell ("MJ" to nearly everybody), I didn't honestly believe she was fishing for the perfect catch to save her from a less-than-adequate life. She was just a trampy ball-buster that required plenty of male attention. Hey, I was once twenty-five and burning candles at both ends. I know how the attention of older guys can be a real turn on.

I got a preview of what she was capable of at last year's company Bar-B-Que. After virtually dumping her boy-toy husband upon arrival, she soon had three horny married guys sniffing around her. I kind of got a kick from watching her juggle all that testosterone, at least until Donny started sniffing. Since the sniffing never amounted to any substantial fooling around, I let it slide; never once confronting him about the party or MJ. In retrospect, I probably should have questioned him at the time. [Don't ya hate shouldas and couldas?]

"Well, just make sure YOU don't get into trouble. That's all we need," I warned Josh, as I retreated from under his fluent fingers to dress for bed. Slipping my thin-strapped cotton nightgown overhead I let the towel drop and slid under the covers. [Now, get out of here handsome, before I throw a net over you and drag your tight, ripe body in next to me.]

Josh was such a calm and collected character; not at all like his once wild and unrestrained mother at that age. His raging teenage hormones never surfaced as far as I knew -- low metabolism or some chemical imbalance. Who knows? I always sensed a transcendent twinkle behind his eyes and an occasional red-faced blush whenever the question of sex was discussed, so I was sure he wasn't queer.

Hearing his refurbished late 60's Cadillac rumbling out of the drive, I fingered through a few pages of my latest romance novel before dozing off.

Whether it was that cold gust of December chill or Josh's gloved hand on my shoulder, I was startled awake at 12:17 A.M. A blurred glance at the time and unruffled bed told me Donny still wasn't home.

"Get up Mom. Get up! I found him. He's at the Family Inn and he's not alone. C'mon, get up!"

"Jesus Chr--- JOSH! What the hell?"

"Bastard Patrol, ya know. C'mon, I found him!" Josh insisted, like he'd just discovered John Dillinger's hideout.

Pulling me up to a slump, he was so tickled with his news. My brain (no doubt still floating in some evaporated dream) was slow to react, while I let him shake my body awake.

"Okay, OKAY! Let ME do this," I yelled, pulling my jeans up over my gown.

"Here, you'll need this." Josh impatiently shoved my arms into Donny's floor-length trench coat.

"That's not my c---," I started, when he twirled me around to cinch the belt around me.

"There's no time. We've got to hurry; he'll get away."

Undercover Amazon +++++

Here I am dressed in my nightgown, jeans, booties, and Donny's trench coat looking like some twisted female version of Sam Spade. "Gosh, maybe I ought to pack some heat; whatdya think, Rocco?" I smirked, as my son plopped a knit cap on top of my disheveled coif.

A quick dash into the December cold, Ma Bonny and her Clyde were soon in the warm Caddie winding our way to Donny's designated rendezvous -- a real den of inequity -- the midtown Family Inn. Now I was awake and wondering even more just what the hell I was expected to do. Josh wasn't real exact about how to deal with a fox in the hen house. After a speedy race across town, Josh silently backed into a secure, well-hidden parking space at the less-than-posh Family Inn. He let me know the room number and that it was halfway across the outside balcony on the second level.

"Well Josh, just so you know, I have no plans on confronting your father. I mean it's good to know what he's up to... and with whom, but there's no way I'm going to make a big scene. Do you understand?" I stated, gathering the too long trench coat around me.

"Hey, whatever you say. But if anything DOES go wrong, just let me know, Okay?"

I detected a sigh of indignation in his voice, but I knew there was no way he wanted to see me physically hurt. The emotional damage would be severe enough for any jilted spouse. I quietly opened the car door and proceeded to the stairway. The cold wind gave me a jolt, as it swirled under and up my long coat. Reaching the second level I lightly strode down the open walkway. At 12:45 most of the lights were out, except for room 232. Lowering myself at the window, I saw a crack in the pulled drapes. Not a big crack, but certainly large enough to peer into the lit room. Squatting down to perch myself at the window, I nearly slipped on a patch of ice.

It was my daring Donny alright. Lying butt-naked on a king-sized bed with an equally naked Mary Jane Karwell free-riding him for all he was worth. The initial sight of my hubby's obvious carnal betrayal was at once disgusting and detestable. Jealousy burned inside my gut, as I continued to validate his indiscretion. Allowing the seedy vision to seep into my conscious, the sight of MJ's bared body parts and art of seduction somehow captivated me. With her extra-long wavy brunette hair and heavy laden dark makeup, she was truly a slut whore by anybody's definition. Her marvelously proportioned booty and 25-year-old boobs seemed even larger in reality. Funny thing is, compared to 5'10" Donny, she was a virtual giant. Watching the 6-foot tall amazon forcibly bouncing up and down like a jack hammer on my hubby's lower half, I couldn't help but snicker.

My lips loosened from an intense pout and curled into a half-witted smile. The more I watched their hyper-charged lust, the more comical the whole scene became. "Good Lord Donny, she'll ruin you for sure!" I chided to myself. Feeling the patch of ice taking its toll on my poor booties, I shifted my weight as the comedy played on.

"Oops, must be the end of Act 1," I assumed, as the mismatched couple switched positions. Now my view of MJ was completely unobstructed, as Donny slid down her long torso and legs to have at her snatch. "God, what a fucking slut," I nearly verbalized, as my hubby's mouth and tongue went to work on her pussy. "What a... an incredible fucking slut!" I reissued to myself, as my breath started to fog the window.

Her spread thighs and uncommonly long legs twitched and danced, as my hubby continued to pleasure her. All the time, the drama in her facial expressions rapidly morphed from fear and pain to ecstasy; from ecstatic joy to insatiable wickedness. With Donny's face buried in her bushy vagina, he must be missing all of this. I became increasingly enamored with her and helpless to avert my eyes. [My God, she can't actually SEE me, can she?] Paranoia set in, along with my increasing infatuation.

My answer came soon enough. She wasn't playing to an audience of one. Two hairy stocky legs bent at the knees joined her. [Damn drapes!] I couldn't make him out from his posterior. Clearly MJ was making out just fine, as she greedily jacked and sucked the second man's hard cock.

By now my jealousy had switched from MJ to whomever was doing her, and I'm sure my breath wasn't the only thing steaming up the window. Feeling bolder, I came out of my crouch and stood up. Curiosity had gotten the best of me. Rubbing my fingers ever-so-lightly over the frosted glass for a better look at Mister Hairy Butt Man; I was getting good at all this stealth stuff.

Unfortunately that last thought was simply a conjecture on my part, as I heard the squeak. [Just a tiny little squeak. They couldn't have heard...] "Oh SHIT!" Heads jerked/turned and three sets of eyes shot to where they each thought the noise come from. That's when my pink bootie froze to the ice patch and my head hit the window trying to salvage it. "My God, it's Kenny!"

My heightened senses and half-frozen body somehow got their shit together enough to get me running and skidding back down the icy walkway and metal stairwell. Nearly out of breath by the time I got to the Caddy, I figured there must be three naked people hot on my heels. Grabbing the back door handle, I whipped it open and virtually dove into the back seat.

"DRIVE!"

"What's the deal? Are you okay?" Josh cranked over the ignition.

"DRIVE DAMN IT!" I shouted, slowly peering out the rear window.

"Okay, okay; we're outta here," Josh shifted into gear and within minutes we were out of the neighborhood and on the interstate.

"Did anybody see you? What happened?" Josh scanned his rearview mirror.

Still out of breath and shaken from my perilous escape, I had no idea if they had seen me. Finally sitting up, holding on to my ice-soaked bootie, I tried to collect myself. Noticing the approaching exit sign for our subdivision, I blurted out. "No, I don't want to go home. I need to get to a bar. Take me to a bar... the closest one!" I demanded.

"Okay, but..."

"But WHAT? How hard is it to figure out? I need a God damn drink, Josh -- okay!" I emphasized, starring out into the dark nothingness.

"It's like 1 o'clock. The bars are closed. Besides, I can't..." Josh reasoned.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. You couldn't get in, even if they WERE open! DAMN IT!"

Josh kept the car headed out of town, as we silently considered other options. After he suggested we could stop at a truck stop or rest area to talk, I offered no response. More miles peeled by, as I tried to shake the images clouding my head.

"Well, I just hope you're not too upset with me. I sure didn't mean any harm," Josh repented, saying anything to get me to respond.

"I'm not upset with you, Honey. I'm not one to shoot the messenger--just really need a nice stiff drink right about now, ya know," I sniffled.

Josh & Jack don't mix +++++

Another mile marker later, Josh broke through the deafening silence. "If you promise not to get too pissed at me, maybe I could find you a drink."

"What the hell does THAT mean? I mean okay, I promise I won't get pissed," I added in a restrained voice. Josh bent down and under the rider's side. Bringing out a small bottle from under the seat, he passed it back to me. "Ah, holding out on me huh?"

"Remember, you won't get pissed -- right? And NO questions!" He added, as I unscrewed the cap.

"Jack Daniels, Wow! Now that takes me back a few years," I quipped and gulped down a nice, long shot. "WHEW, good ole Jack still kicks ass! Thanks Sweetheart," I smiled into the rearview mirror and took another long dose. [It's kind of a nice revelation to find out your kid has taste, when it comes to his whiskey. Even if he's too young to... never mind.]

"Hey take it easy there, Lady," Josh warned, as I downed yet another long stiff shot.

Ignoring his cautions, I leaned back on the long warm leather seat and opened my trench coat. "God is it hot in here, or is it me?" I giggled and doffed my remaining bootie.

"Man, that stuff will go straight to your brain. You better slow down a little."

"Straight to my brain. Straight to the fat lady's brain; that's just where I need it--HA!"

I think he was at first amused at seeing his Mom getting a little loopy. At first, that is. "Here, let's take a break for a while. How's that?" Josh said, reaching back to take the bottle.

"Hey Sailor, you're too young for this stuff. So you just k-keep your hands to yourself." [only a slight slur].

"C'mon now, just a little break okay?" He pleaded.

"A break huh? Okay, I'll make you deal. You get us off this road and all these stupid lights, and I'll give ya a sip." [Here I am trying to strike a drunkard's bargain with my own son.]

"No bright lights, is THAT it?" He asked, pulling off the next exit.

"Yeah, this fat ole lady needs a nice dark hole to crawl off to... or is it INto?"

Pulling off on an outer road and then onto a dark service road to who-the-hell-knows where, he stopped, shifted into park, and turned around. "There ya go--nice and dark; now what's this nonsense about an old fat lady? I see no such person in THIS car!" His smile nearly melted me.

"No fair! I know how you guys work," I winked and teased him with the bottle.

"Us guys?"

"Yeah, you're all alike. Get a girl drunk, steal her bottle of hooch, and then leave her in the ditch," taking another short swig. "Well it ain't gonna happen; not with this Mrs. Chubbybuns."

Josh must have realized at this point that trying to reason with me could be impractical. Switching off the car, he got out and opened the back door. By this time I had discarded the trench coat and edged myself against the opposite door, keeping a firm grip on the whiskey. Josh slid into the backseat, took a long look and rolled his eyes.

"C'mon now Mom and tell me what happened back there," he pleaded.

"You mean back at the motel? Well, g-guess it was just another case of an unhappy married man getting his rocks off with some sweet young thing." A few tears and sniffles confirmed my accusation.

"I'm sorry; should of never put you through that," Josh apologized and reassured me with a glancing touch on my knee.

"Hey, it's not your fault. After the last three months I suspected something was going on. It's no real mystery. I mean how many guys want to have anything to do with an old, fat woman?" I opened up.

"Okay, enough of this old and fat stuff. Good Lord you're not even 40 and the guys I know think you're in good shape," he said rubbing my knee.

I capped the bottle and moved closer to face him. "Here look at this," I said, pulling my long ash blonde hair back. "See that--crow's feet!" I noted, forcing him to look at my eyes.

"Come on Mom. A little makeup and no one can see that!" He smiled.

"Okay, OKAY then; I'll show you 'fat'!" I added. Backing up in the seat, I squirmed out of my jeans and pulled up my gown. "See, you can't ignore THAT!" I yelled, holding the gown high enough to cover my face and head.

No comment.

Finally after more than a minute of exposing myself, I uncovered enough of my eyes to check his expression. His eyes were firmly locked on my bared chest. "Geez Josh, I don't mean those; I'm talking about THIS," I stated and pinched a bit more than a few inches around my tummy.

"Incredible; simply incredible!" Was his robotic response.

"Yes Dear, I know. I've never had a problem THERE," I said with an air of pride.

Releasing my grip on the gown, I shut down my son's personal peep show. Shaking back to reality, his eyes shifted to meet mine. "Problem? I don't see a problem. Dad is just a frigging IDIOT!"

"You don't get it do you? Here, now pay attention," I said. Hiking the gown up [just a little this time], I raised my pelvis and yanked down my cotton panties. "There, see the problem!" I asked, spreading my chunky thighs wide for his inspection.

Judging from Josh's second failure to respond, I can only assume I was embarrassing him. "I'm sorry Honey. This must be really grossing you out. [GOD, what a sorry excuse for a mother.] Please forgive me," I shook my head and reached down for my jeans to cover up. As I leaned forward to conceal my strange behavior, I felt Josh's hand on my face. When he lifted my chin and motioned my face close to his the jeans fell from my grip.

"Mom, can I be perfectly honest with you?"

With eyes still ashamed to face him, I nodded.

"There isn't a man alive that could resist you and your charms. Maybe we all see ourselves as less than desirable at certain times. Trust me on this; this is definitely NOT one of those times. You are undeniably beautiful and I believe in your heart you know it," he added and kissed my forehead.

The fact that my 18-year-old son could conjure up such a caring and inspirational remark, and deliver it with such confidence, took my breath away. I virtually melted into his arms. Grabbing the scruff of his neck, I pulled him until his lips barely touched mine. "Tell me you love me," I whispered into his mouth.

"You know I do," he whispered innocently.

Our lips were poised mere microns from touching. Pulling my gown up with one hand, I prodded his hand to my chest. "Tell me," I urged and slid my hand down his chest to his lap.