Incidental Indiscretions

"I love you," He whispered not so innocently and grabbed a hold of my weighty boob.

Prolonging a prelude to the inevitable would be futile. Opening my mouth wide, I forced my tongue inside and gave up any pretense. In my present state of inebriation Josh represented a man who desired me. Good ole Jack Daniels had twisted my brain back some twenty years to crazier times when sex was new, raw and free of alteration. It wasn't until our first passionate kiss subsided that I took note of just whom I was kissing. Running my fingers through his long blond locks our eyes locked.

His immediate reaction to my assault was unexpected. I must have unlocked a latent desire, as he quickly returned my kiss with an even deeper one. The whole mother/son sinful thing flashed through my head like a warped afterthought. Our mutual desire kindled an unquenchable thirst for more and more of each other. Ripping off my gown with one hand, he buried his face between my jugs, while I scurried to unbuckle his jeans. Lying down on the leather seat, my arms reached out to beckon him to me.

Our shared lust at that moment was suddenly a monstrous yet silent beast. Watching him tear away his jeans and shirt, the subdued reflective light from the snow-caked roads allowed him to see me fondling my boobs and fingering my wet pussy. Pulling down his boxers, I got my first look at his imposing hunk of manhood. My little boy had definitely grown up--and out! [must take after my side of the family]

"Hmm, come to Momma," was all I could invoke, as I smiled up at him.

Slowly lowering his long body over me, he inexplicably stopped in mid-flight. Supported by his strong arms, he suddenly froze. Tossing his head back, staring at the blank headliner, he must have had a come-to-Jesus moment. "We can't DO this," he hovered and shook his head while I reached to stroke his rock-hard nine-inch erection.

"Oh God Josh! You can't stop NOW! Please Baby, just this once. I need..." I pleaded and firmed up my grip on his thick cock.

"You need... you need WHAT? You need somebody, anybody to fuck you, right?" He started to fade. "Well, problem is; I'm not just ANYbody! Sorry, I can't do this," he sighed and leaned back to sort things out. He was slipping away from me and his timing couldn't be worse. All my addled brain could suspect was yet another rejection.

"Look here now, it's like taking your date to the prom and not dancing!" I lamely tried to reason, as I scrambled up to implore him. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've had a really good dance, do you!" I emphasized, pulling his face to mine.

"I'm SORRY, okay! I thought I could... take you--oh, how easy it would be. Shit, I guess something snapped; must be all those morals you raised me with -- HA!"

"Here Josh, Baby you just need a drink," I uncapped the Jack.

Pushing the bottle away, he joked again, "Geez Mom, you think getting me wasted will make it all right? Even I'M smart enough to realize that won't do the trick."

"DAMN IT JOSH! Now you're really trying to make me feel like a fat, sloppy sleazebag," I pouted, sensing I was about to give up the fight.

"Oh please, don't start with THAT crap again," he replied, putting his shirt back on.

"Okay, I'm sorry Baby. I really DO appreciate all of your help tonight," I switched my tone and stopped him from dressing.

The Accidental Voyeur? +++++

"Well, that's better."

"Can't you do me just one little favor? It's not much to ask and it won't take long," I batted my eyes and helped pull his shirt back down. "I think it would REALLY help... I mean to feel you next to me. Just for a moment or so," I begged with my best puppy-dog eyes.

My son must have thought I was nuts, but when I promised not to do anything tricky. He relented. "Only for a few seconds, and that's it," he reminded me.

"It's a deal," I smiled, leaned back and again spread my naked self before him. "You don't need these, do you?" I stated tugging at his boxers.

"Oh, I think I DO, thank you," he said and leaned down to technically embrace me.

Even in my semi-sober state I began to sense the elements, as he slid down on top of me. Almost at once his body warmth not only sheltered me from the cold night air, but (on a completely different level) sent a chill through me. He slowly nestled in close. The sinful pleasure of our nearly naked bodies touching was remarkable. Maybe that's all I needed. I sensed Josh was having similar sensations, until I felt his erection reform. Urging him to settle in deeper, my fingers pulled against his long muscular torso. Stroking his broad back and trim sides, I spread my legs.

"Hmm, that's it Baby; now doesn't that feel better?" I whispered and felt his hardon against my mons. A few muffled grunts later, he relaxed enough to reach and pull aside a few locks of my hair.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No Baby; not in the slightest. Actually here, try and relax," I said, now able to wrap my legs around him. Wiggling my pelvis against his fully formed cock, I felt his boxers open, ever-so-slightly. I rocked the two of us just enough to gain an advantage and plied a diversion.

"I am relaxed--well, most of me is... relaxed," he admitted, while I lifted his head to tease his lips with my tongue.

"Guess I'd be a bit offended if you were TOTALLY relaxed, Josh," I smiled and licked his lower lip.

"Hey, you didn't say anything about kissing," he stated making a pseudo frown.

By this time, I had wiggled and maneuvered his manhood out through the barn door. Feeling the length of his exposed cock against me, I locked my legs at the ankles around his waist and raised my pelvis up and back toward me. With his thick man-muscle parting my well-lubricated slit, I pressed my pussy hard against him. It seemed so natural for him to start his engine as well.

"I'm sorry. Guess if you don't like kissing, I shouldn't really force..." he stopped me in mid pout with a full-on, full-mouth osculation that took my breath away. Scraping my embedded nails slowly from the center of his back to the sides, I lost myself in his lust-filled kiss. Something had re-lit his fire and I was fairly certain of its source--between my thighs. Sustaining our kiss, he rose to his knees and slid the entire length of his perfect cock smack dab against my pussy.

Tearing our mouths apart, I gasped for air. "That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to get you off, right?" He demanded.

"Oh God, YES! J-Josh, don't stop Baby--d-don't SSTOP!" I screamed, as I felt my clit jockey from one side of his hot cock to the other. Shaking my head wildly, I reached down to help the process along. Rubbing and slapping my pussy between his long, fast strokes, I soon had myself on the verge of an orgasm. "Oh God, OH GODD!" I screamed, while my eyes frantically locked on his expression. Grabbing his hand, I forced it to my heaving chest, while the palm of my other hand forced his thick rod hard against my saturated lips. When he roughly took hold on one big melon and then the other I felt the damn burst.

Not since my early dating days had I rode a dry-mounted fuck to completion. I suppose dry mount is probably stretching the meaning here. However "dry" by definition, what happened next was anything but dry.

Unlocking my ankles, my hips and thighs slowly shuddered and jerked their way down his hips, as my splendid orgasm took its sweet time subsiding. Rubbing my blond bush to savor the afterglow, I still had my son's hand attached to my boob. Amid my own selfish desires I had somehow avoided my lover's needs. Still kneeling as in some suspended animation, he was obviously trying to counter and subdue his need to complete his own climax. It was all he could do NOT to take hold of his throbbing monster and finish the job.

"Let me do it, Baby," I said taking his engorged cock in my hand.

Without a response, he watched like an accidental voyeur as I gripped it harder and slowly jerked it back and forth. With my hand locked around his ultimate hardon, I got to my knees. Leaning back and forth to accentuate my hand job, I contemplated taking such a tempting meaty treat in my mouth.

"Yeah Baby, just let it go. You make me feel SO good. Let me help, Darlin'" I pleaded.

Using both hands on him, I leaned down to take it in my mouth. "NO... NO!" He yelled, grabbing my head with one hand and the end of his erection with the other. I could only surmise that the idea of his own mother sucking him off was too much to realize.

"SH—iTT!" He roared, as stream after glorious stream of white gooey cum shot from his pecker like Chinese fireworks. I was at once in awe and proud, as my boy's thick canon unloaded another barrage, bathing my boobs in homemade mayonnaise. After squeezing out a few parting rounds he re-parked his power tool back in his boxers and made an unwelcomed apology.

"You silly goose! This is one mess I LOVE cleaning up -- HA!" I grinned and scooped up a few fingers full of his cum to lick clean.

"Here, I think we better head back," Josh said, handing me a small box of Kleenex from under the front seat.

The brisk winter wind slapped at us like a frozen shovel, as we got dressed and climbed back in to front seat. Back-tracking our way to the interstate and then a short drive home, I leaned over to silent Josh. Lightly brushing his cheek, I remarked "Why Josh, if I didn't know you better, I would think you didn't enjoy yourself."

Pulling into his allotted space to the side of the garage, he shut the Caddy off, turned toward me and gave me a cautious yet brilliant smile. Nothing more was said.

Let's Get Physical +++++

The next few weeks drifted by with little dialog between Donny and myself, or Josh for that matter. The holidays came and went, again without mention of that particular night at the Family Inn. The only outward change in my hubby's behavior was his being home nights. I assumed he either found out about our spying on him, or MJ was too busy to bother with 40-year-old married men. Either way, I had already made up my mind to push myself kicking and screaming into self-improvement. I determined it was definitely time for me to shape up.

Call it a New Year's resolution or too much back talking from the mirror; I was ready for an overhaul. After cutting out anything in my diet that slightly resembled food I liked, I blew the dust off of our trusty treadmill in the basement and invested in a few Jane Fonda workout VHS tapes. [Personally, I always considered Hanoi-Jane no more than some goofy un-American pretentious hack, but she did hit on something worthwhile with the whole new fitness rage.]

It was closing in on March, when I finally noticed the dial on my bathroom scale had stopped bouncing up and down like a yo-yo. I was effectively holding the needle at 128 lbs. and decided to add light weight lifting to my regimen. By April, the leftover flab around my tummy, arms and thighs actually began to disappear. In reality, everything was becoming toned and tight. That's when I knew I was positively on the right track. Needless to say, I felt fantastic with each workout. My predetermined goals changed weekly, until I was maintaining 125 lbs. with about 8% body fat. No longer a chunky middle-aged frump, I delighted in my new sexy self and even took to laughing back at the mirror.

The memory of witnessing my husband and our neighbor doing the nasty with MJ, the young amazon slut, still hung in my brain like a wart that wouldn't go away. However, with my readjusted attitude and self-confidence, I didn't dwell on such things. I was too busy picking out new clothes, getting my hair styled, treating myself to frequent sun bathing and relishing the latest cat calls. [One particular construction site on 12th Street became my favorite promenade--mostly younger studs with louder-than-average whistles.]

There Goes the Neighborhood +++++

I referred to our neighbor, Kenny earlier (actually his hairy ass). He was the third musketeer on duty that night at the Family Inn with dear 'ole Donny and MJ, the 25-year-old glamazon. Kenny is actually married to Marjorie "Marge" and they have a son, George, affectionately referred to as "Porgy or Porge" [I'll explain later].

Not merely our neighbors, Kenny also worked with my hubby, Donny in home remodeling. Low-achiever, pudgy Kenny's sole claim to fame is that he married Marge. She is a gregarious bundle of riddles. A short, trim brunette who over-dresses for most any occasion, drowns herself in cheap perfume and dime-store jewelry, and boasts a vast knowledge of virtually every tabloid magazine. She could best be described as a poor man's socialite. I spent a fair amount of time with Marge, but still knew very little about what makes her tick. Since the parts that I was aware of are frequently laced with huge doses of impropriety, conjecture and just plain gossip, it's probably just as well. I learned long ago that gossips are not good people to share secrets.

As ambivalent as he is and as gushing as she is; Kenny and Marge are our neighbors and, except for Kenny's hairy ass, are comparatively attractive. Their son, George "Porgy", Josh's age is a living doll. The kind of cuddly teddy bear you just want to smother with kisses. Only a bit taller than me, at 5' 6" he carries just enough weight to be considered solid. One can easily see with those deep-set dark eyes and sandy hair, he's destined to be a lady killer. [Of course I often fantasized about volunteering to be his first victim.]

In retrospect, it was likely a poor idea to share any of the events that transpired at the Family Inn with Marge. She must have caught me in a weak moment when I admitted observing my hubby's infidelity. I was discreet enough NOT to mention her husband was also part of the three-ring circus. What seemed to equally tantalize her lust for scandal was my account of Josh's part in the sordid episode. Although I refrained from sharing any juicy details I could tell from her wide-eyed expression, the idea of my son having the hots for an older woman appealed to a devious tendency I hadn't noticed earlier.

After shrugging off my concerns about Donny and MJ as middle-aged crisis-crap, she was much more intent on knowing about Josh. "So Barb, do you think he has a thing for mature women, or just for you? No, of course, all boys have crushes on attractive, experienced women," she was prone to answering her own assumptions. I was once again rendered speechless, as she prattled on about how... "He just needs to be exposed to the right woman; in the right circumstance; it's all about timing..." she was no doubt concocting a scenario with herself playing the role of seductress. I chalked up the conversation as pointless, and had to giggle a little at the idea of Josh having anything to do with crazy Marge.

Pole Position +++++

That May was a special month for high school seniors. It meant: senior prom, final exams, graduation, summer break, and preparing for college--a busy time for sure. Amid all the hoopla and hubbub some kids found themselves suffering from separation anxiety. It was most notable with Josh and his two close friends, Porge and Lurch. Each boy enrolled in a different college, so a parting of ways was inevitable. Being studs-in-training, the macho thing was not to discuss or outwardly show how their eventual separation would affect their relationship. Instead they had become inseparable, with each one knowing exactly where the other two were at all times--and this was before the proliferation of cell phones.

For years the boys used our place as one of their preferred hangouts--actually our walkout basement to be specific. Donny had splurged a few years back and purchased a full-size arcade game, a pool table, along with weightlifting and exercise equipment. "If they're gonna hang out here, they might as well entertain themselves in the process," his exact words. In reality, I always thought that was a sorry excuse to get more boy toys for him. However, this was one time when he was right. Unless we had company over, the boys were the only ones making use of the stuff. At least until I started exercising and weightlifting. Over the years we added a long couch, a television and a few chairs, so the area finally resembled an actual rec room. The boys seemed to love it and it was a mixed blessing having them around.

There was one particular Friday that May that holds a special memory for me. I had just arrived home from work. After collecting the mail, I found a pair of notes on the kitchen counter. Meg had gone off to "hang" with her girl friends at the mall and was going to a movie, while Donny noted that he would be working late. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief at not having to make dinner, I peeled off my light suit jacket. In hopes of playing up to my boss for a raise, I'd been dressing to the nines lately. Unzipping my short skirt at the hip, I glanced outside to see Porge coming up the backyard walk--alone. Seeing the boys in my backyard was nothing out of the ordinary. The fact that he was flying solo was news.

I suspended the normal response of zipping up and making myself respectable. Porge was my personal favorite, when it came to teasing, prodding and issuing sexy double entendres. This seemed like the perfect time to have some fun with him. Leaving the zipper down, I pulled my white satin blouse out and quickly unbuttoned. Grabbing the mail to use as a prop, I strode across the kitchen tile to open the door.

"Hey Porge, how's it hangin'?" I welcomed him, seemingly engrossed in the mail.

"Oh Hi Mrs. B; you surprised me!" He answered, as I swung the door open.

Letting my focus shift from the junk mail up to his eyes and back down again, his double-take on my open blouse was substantial. For once he was struck speechless. My white lace Victoria Secret uplift bra was clearly visible and his young wide eyes drank in each full cup.

"Uh, hanging just fine and how are you hang..." He stopped short of repeating his normal return line.

"Hmm; cat got your tongue, Porge?" I smiled, before feigning to be amazed at my exposed attributes. "Oops, sorry about that; just trying to get a raise from my cheap-ass boss. I don't think it's working," I said clamping the lapels together.

"The guy must be a fool. If I were him..." Porge thought.

"Yes?"

"Actually Missus B, I don't think I've seen you looking more... beautiful!" He said, quickly shifting his gaze from my chest to my eyes.

Reacting to Porgy's over-complimentary appraisal, "Why Porge, how very Eddie Haskell of you," I laughed.

"Let's just say, you sure enough got a rise from me," he nervously shifted in his tight basketball shorts. [Yep, in '88, guys' basketball shorts were truly shorts--not knee-length skirts.]

I tossed my Linda Evans [from TV's Dynasty fame]-ratted ash blonde locks to one side and laughed, "I said RAISE silly, but thanks for the compliment." His face turned a shade redder, as my hand brushed over his package in passing. Stopping at the counter, I turned toward him and leaned down to rest my elbows. "So where's the other two musketeers; on a mission to deflower some unsuspecting damsel, I'm sure."

Seating himself at one of our large bar stools, Porge attempted conversation. In spite of the two nearly over-flowing goblets taunting him, he gave it a try. "Well Lurch, I mean Larry had to work on his Cougar; said he'd catch up with us later. And J-Man (Josh) is busy..."

"Josh is busy? Busy with what?" I asked, balancing my heel to and fro in three-inch pumps.

"To be honest Mrs. B, I'm not sure," he said, casually rotating on the stool.

"C'mon Porge, you must have a good idea. You guys know when each of you took your last dump--for God's sake!" I rolled my eyes and unbuttoned the cuffs on my blouse.

In undoing the cuffs, I "accidentally" shoved a letter off the counter. Turning my ass toward Porge, I leaned down to the floor to pick it up. Hearing a distinctive clearing of the throat told me he appreciated my rear view as well.