Incidental Indiscretions

"Okay, but I'm not sure, I think he might be helping my mom with something," he said, with a concealing tone.

I gave him a raised eyebrow and waited. One has to be patient with eighteen-year-old boys. Finally he took a big inhale and finished his conclusion. "See, the old man bought this new 35mm camera. She (Marge) knows that J-Man is into photography and stuff, and so I heard her ask him to help her figure out how to work it. I guess the old man said it was busted and she thought Josh could look at it for her."

"Hmm, sounds innocent enough to me, how about you?" I asked rhetorically.

"Me? What the heck do I know about... anything?" He sounded a bit reticent about being left out of the loop.

"Gosh Porge, don't feel dejected. I was just going to work out, if you wanna join me?" I asked.

"Ah nah, but maybe I could wait downstairs, play some pole or something," he decided.

"Pole?" I asked

"Pole Position...the game, ya know."

"Oh sure, I'll be down in a jiffy to work out," I answered, recalling how the boys like to play Pole Position.

Porge left for the basement, while I finished undressing and dressed for the treadmill. Pulling up a pair of tiny grey sweat short-shorts, I opted not to wear my usual sports bra. Instead I shoved my melons into a skin-tight deep-cut tank top. A pair of white ankle socks, head band and tennies, and I was ready. Touching up my big hair and makeup [one must look their best when exercising.] I grabbed one of Donny's long white starched shirts for a cover up. I rolled up the too-long cuffs and tied the tails around my midriff. [Not abs of steel quite yet, but definitely tanned and toned.]

Before heading to the treadmill I decided to give Marge a quick call and check on Josh. "Oh yeah Barb, he's over here working on this stupid camera. Apparently we hadn't checked this one thingy; it works fine now. I'm trying to talk him into taking me to the park to take some shots. Did you know he broke up with his girl friend? This might be a real good time to... you don't mind if I hit on your son, do you?" She laughed.

"Huh? I don't think..." She stopped me and halfway assured me that was not her true intention. I knew enough about Marge not to completely believe anything she said.

Neither Josh nor I had discussed anything except graduation-related stuff since that wild December night. I was concerned to hear he and his girlfriend had parted ways without mentioning it to me, but I suppose it's time for him to handle his own affairs. Filing that one away for another time, I grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and headed for the basement.

I was about midway down the stairs when I caught sight of Porge playing the arcade game, Pole Position. [Current gamers might recognize the name, but not realize it was first an arcade game in the early '80's]. Those unfamiliar with it should know it's a fairly simple game, where the driver is confronted with several racing courses that he/she had to maneuver as fast as possible without wrecking. The boys played it for hours on end.

After several months, all of them could easily kick its ass. So, to make it more competitive they added diversions. I spied one particular "diversion" when cleaning the basement last year. Pulling the game from against the wall, I discovered three girly magazines... Playboy, Penthouse, and Gent. It wasn't until I eavesdropped later that I found one of the guys playing/driving while the others taunted him with a centerfold from one of the mags. The diverter would hold up the picture in front of them and say the nastiest things, trying to avert or otherwise distract the driver to the point where he ultimately laughed himself into the ditch. It was entertaining, watching how they feigned female voices and made the crudest gestures to achieve the diversions.

The game was also popular with females, since it didn't involve blowing up something or killing somebody. I actually got pretty good at it, in my spare time. However, since such games were considered a guy-thing, I never let on that I could even play it. [Any degree of hand/eye coordination in women should be reserved for knitting or some shit -- RIGHT!]

Anyway, there Porge was with his tight little ass in those short-shorts bumping and grinding against the arcade for every last bonus point. Coming up from behind him, I planted my hands firmly on his swaying hips. Ignoring me, Porge continued his assault on the digital race track. I leaned in close to his ear.

"Hey, you're pretty good at this; I had no idea..." I whispered.

"Oh well, ya know, we play it a lot," was his delayed response.

Holding his focus on the track, I tried a more loaded observation. "Awfully good at those curves, aren't you?" I asked rhetorically, as he downshifted to blast through another hairpin turn. "WELL, guess I'd better get on my horse. I'm just being a distraction for you," I surmised, judging from his lack of response.

"No, I mean you don't distract me." Flooring the accelerator, he added, "What were you saying about a horse?"

After a series of long leg and arm stretches I stepped up on the treadmill. Flipping the key, I punched in my program and was off and jogging. The noisy motor drowned out any other sounds within a 20-foot radius, so I was surprised with a tap on my shoulder.

"Just wanted to let you know, you weren't distracting me," he mouthed. I shook my head and shrugged.

"DISTRACTING ME!" He yelled like I was deaf.

Pulling back my long hair, I removed two earplugs. "What's that Porge?"

"Sorry, I just meant you weren't dis-TRACTING!" His voice still surged, as I powered down the treadmill.

"Gosh Porge, I heard ya the second time!" I said, climbing off the horse. "What is it anyway? Do you need a distraction, is that it? Because, when it comes to distractions, I'm your girl!" I winked.

Red-faced again, Porge's eyes scanned my white shirt, before rewording his point. "No, no you've got me all wrong. It's like sometimes when we play the game, we do different things to throw each other off, ya know." He nodded for me to accept his interpretation.

"And, you would call these things you do distractions--right?" I asked, as I sauntered to the rear of the arcade.

"Yeah, we call them distractions... you know like making faces, funny voices... stuff like that."

"And these... what would you call these?" I smiled holding up a recent copy of Playboy.

"Uh."

"Hmm, I would think THIS would surely be considered a distraction," I said, paging through the contents. Stopping at the centerfold, I unfolded a perfectly air-brushed blond-haired honey and held it up in front of me. "Aren't I a suitable distraction, kind Sir?" I said in my best air-headed bimbo voice.

"UH."

"Now Porge, that's simply not an acceptable comeback. Maybe blondes don't trip your trigger. Is that it?" I said, tossing that magazine to the floor. Flipping through Penthouse, I found a dark-headed brunette with similar attributes. Unfolding the centerfold like before, I held it high and feigned a dark smoky voice. "What about me Dahling, can't I be your favorite distraction, hmm?"

Lowering the centerfold to just below my eyes, I watched his embarrassment turn into amusement. [You too-cute Koala bear, I could force feed you my pussy in a heartbeat!]

"Hey, you do that pretty good, Missus B," he said with an emerging smile that lit up his entire face. "But how do YOU know about...THAT?"

"Don't you know by now Porge; mothers know EVERYthing!" I remarked from the other side of the centerfold.

"And you're not upset?"

"Oh hell no, I think it's funny. I'm just glad you boys like to play with paper dolls, as opposed to having real ones over here... saying some of those naughty things you guys come up with."

"Well it IS interesting to hear an actual feminine voice coming from the pictures," Porge added, glancing down below the centerfold.

"You think?"

"Especially one with legs like yours--sorry."

"No need to apologize Porgy. I should be so lucky to have legs like this one," I said turning the magazine to observe her gams and then mine.

"In fact your legs work even better with the blonde," Porge further noted.

"See, I KNEW you were into blondes," I said, tossing the brunette to the floor in favor of the top-heavy blonde. "Say, whatever happened to that little Cindy Lou Who? She always looked like she'd be good girly magazine material."

"Oh Cindy Lewis... she's history. Besides she'd never pose or even qualify to be in one of those," he said, adjusting the standing centerfold's legs to match up where mine were. "See, you're nearly a perfect match -- WOW!"

Craning my head to see what he saw, I caught him adjusting his package. "Not qualified, how so?"

"No tits, oops I mean she's not very... endowed, shall we say." Porge stated in a more relaxed tone.

"Ah, I see. Well, that could be a problem."

"Not a problem for some women," he said with a wink.

"Why Porge, are you intimating that I have big tits?" I asked with a smidge of scolding in my voice.

"Hey, I never said that, Mrs. B! I would NEVER be so rude," the boy backed off, as I lowered the centerfold.

"Hmm, maybe you'd better go back to your game," I urged and bent down to collect the magazines. Returning them to their hideout, I suddenly felt a silent sexual tension settling in.

"Geez, I'm sorry Mrs. B., I never meant to make you upset. Please forgive me?" Porge put his hand to my shoulder to show his concern. He had broken the invisible barrier. That barrier between an attractive older woman and a vital young man dissolved like curtain of sand. Letting his hand keep me from moving any further, I stopped and turned to face him.

"Porgy, do you know how you got your nickname?" I asked, completely changing the subject. His hand slid down my arm.

"I don't know. I'd always figured it was from that comedy group, the Firesign Theatre that Lurch listens to all the time. That record they made about Porgy Tirebiter... he's a student like you," he sang.

"Uh actually no. It's not nearly as complicated. Boy, that Lurch is a real stoner, isn't he?"

"Yep, 'fraid so," Porge nodded, letting his hand drop to his side. I replaced his hand with mine on his shoulder.

"Remember the old nursery rhyme... "Georgy Porgy, puddin' and pie?" I asked leaning in close.

"Oh yeah..."kissed the girls and made them cry"--right?" he finished the refrain.

"You were so damn cute when we first met you, I just couldn't help myself. That's when everybody started referring to you as Porgy," I said pulling him close to whisper.

"Hmm, I had no idea," he returned with a whisper.

"Only problem is... being 14 years old, you had no desire what-so-ever in kissing girls."

"Thank God that didn't last long. I've kissed plenty of girls since then," he smiled proudly.

"And made them cry?" I asked, lightly licking his earlobe.

"Gosh, I don't think... I never meant to...," I felt his knees buckle just a bit, as my hand lowered down to rest in the small of his back.

"There's one girl you've never kissed, Porge. Are you afraid I might cry, hmm?" I said, shifting my face to lip-lock with him.

"I-I'm not in the habit of kissing married girls," his lips formed the words brushing against my lips as he murmured.

"Why not let me worry about that." I said and finally raised my painted eyes to meet his.

The anxious silence that followed was overwhelming. I knew on some level he wanted me, but being suddenly confused with his allegiance to my son and respect for whatever hubby and I had was too heavy a consequence. [This was surely a Jack Daniels moment, and I wasn't holding.] Leaning back to better visualize his perplexed expression, I patted his chest, smiled reluctantly, and turned around to remount the treadmill. The deep exhaled sigh at my backside was tangible. Turning the key, I resumed my program, as Porge gripped the game's steering wheel and reached for the gear shift. I curiously watched as he blankly froze at the qualifying screen. After a good five minutes, I knew a myriad of contradictions must be rolling around in his teenage brain. Suddenly his hands dropped from the wheel and gear shift. Pulling his foot off the accelerator, he turned and moved toward me. He had made a decision.

"Can I ask you a question, Barb?" He stood, hands on hips, directly in front of me.

"I... I suppose," I started not knowing what to expect. He no longer referred to me as Mrs. B. and I reckoned from his dominant behavior, I'd better shut down the horse and give him my complete attention.

"Have you ever played that game?" He asked with all sincerity.

"That game?"

"Yes, 'Pole Position', have you ever actually played it?"

"No, I just watch you guys, you know," I lied.

"I know, and you probably think we're just wasting our time, when we could be exercising and getting into great shape like you."

"Well..."

"Well nothing. I think it's time YOU played it. You need to see what it feels like. Come on over here now," Porge demanded, pointing his finger to the exact spot.

"Okay, whatever you say. I will give it a shot." I smiled to be included in their man games. "You WILL be patient with me, won't you? I'm just a girl, you know," I said, rolling up my sleeves.

"Just grab the wheel with your left hand. Grab the gear shift with your right and step on the gas."

"Okay, here goes nothing," I said and promptly drove off the digital road. "Shit, I mean SHUTE! You may have to show me how to steer this dumb thing," I added, batting an eyelid or two.

"Here, the least I can do is get you on the road, I guess," Porge said. I rested my hand on his, before speed-shifting and gassing the pedal. "No, not like that," he warned and put my other hand on the gear shift. "Now slowly give it some gas." Feeling his torso against my back, I stepped on the pedal. He kept us on the road, as I fed it more gas.

After steering us through several turns and curves, I acted like maybe I could get the hang of it. He eased off and let me handle things myself. Soon I was keeping my car on the road and speeding up on straight-aways. [Gosh, what a great teacher he was -- HA!] He applauded my every shift and turn like I was his prized pupil. "Are you sure you've never played this before?" He asked, as I maneuvered the pixilated car through another rough turn.

"No, it's my first time; you must be a great teacher! This is FUN... and kind of exciting," I added, lying my ass off.

"Really? Yeah, I guess the first time can be exciting," he agreed and perhaps amused by the innuendo.

"Gosh yes, my heart is pounding! Here, feel it," I said, pulling his hand from behind me. I placed his hand on my left boob, and quickly reached for the gear shift. "There, can you feel it?"

"Ah yeah, I see what you mean," he said, barely touching me. Shifting back into third gear, I returned my fingers to undo two buttons on my white shirt.

"Here Silly, you can't feel anything; give me your hand," I said and forced his hand inside my shirt, neatly resting it under my weighty boob. "THERE, can you feel it now? It's beating like crazy."

"Oh YEAH, it IS thumpin' for sure!" He exclaimed, letting his fingers nestle under my weighty boob for a nice long feel. "Watch out, think you can handle this big turn?" He warned and let his hand slide up to cup my d-sized melon. Running his fingers over my hard nipple, I let him keep fondling me, while I executed the turn.

"I think the real question is can YOU handle it?" I leaned back into his chest.

"God it's getting hot in here! Aren't you hot?" He asked, as his hand slowly retreated from under my shirt.

"Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing." Keeping my focus on the road, I remarked, "The damn A/C in this house is terrible, ya know. Feel free to take off your shirt if you want. It won't bother me," I nonchalantly added, as I undid hubby's dress shirt and tossed it to the couch. Tugging the elastic on my tight tube top did little to fix a slight boob sagging, but I never expected it to.

"I might just take you up on that. It DOES get hot in here," Porge said crossing his arms to lift and pull off his t-shirt.

"You know I'm sorry about coming on to you before. You know I was just playing with you Porge, don't you?" I said, passing a few digital cars.

"Oh yeah, Mrs. B. I knew you were fooling with me..." I heard him answer, as he casually tossed his t-shirt on the couch.

"Whew! It IS friggin' hot down here!" I said, sliding through another oil slick.

"Here, it's your turn. I'm gonna check that damn thermostat," I stated and moved away from the game.

Taking a nice long gander at the boy's delightfully compact V-frame, perfectly formed six-pack abs, and muscular thighs, I let out an audible sigh. He began playing the game, as I went upstairs to check the thermostat. [At least that was my excuse.]

Instead, I changed from the tank top. Guessing my white, deep cut halter top would be more appealing for the task at hand; I also retouched my makeup and returned to the basement.

"The thermostat seems to be working okay. Must just be really hot outside. Hope you don't mind me changing?" I asked.

Porge gave me a noticeable double-take before continuing his game. "Sure, that looks cooler," he agreed, as I liberally displayed my curves by reaching up to adjust my headband.

Standing across from him, maybe a foot or two, in the designated diversion area, I offered him a cool drink. His double-take soon changed to a triple-take at seeing my large half-moons prominently aching to bust through the halter top.

"I thought you said I wasn't a distraction," I laughed, shaking my boobs ever-so-gently.

"Okay, okay, that may have been a premature statement," he admitted.

"Two iced-cold waters to cool us down, how's that?" I smiled and handed him one of the glasses. [Hope that's the only thing he's premature about.]

"So, do ya think you can make it past qualifying?" He asked, taking a long swig.

"Oh, I think so... with your help," I sublimated, lowering my face, yet returning an upward glance and batting an eye.

"Sounds like a deal to me," he shot me that damn sexy smile of his again. I stepped in to take my spot behind the wheel and felt his bare chest press against my mostly bare back. Revving the gas, I grabbed the wheel and felt the distinct signs of his emerging hardon against my ass. "Now I know why they call it Pole Position, or is that supposed to be MY distraction?" I whispered, leaning back to one side of his face.

"You're the damn distraction," he whispered and slid his young cock up and down my crack. "God, you smell good, Mrs. B."

"I taste even better. And I like it when you called me Barb," I said, raising my bare shoulder to his face.

Puddin' & Pie +++++

He boldly started peppering my shoulder with tiny temping kisses. Moving my ratted hair aside, his kisses soon beat a path up my neck. Leaning my head back against his shoulder, I sensed his breath in my ear; then his tongue. My knees promptly buckled, as his tongue stabbed inside. Reaching behind to tug at his shorts, a severe case of the moans took over. He grabbed both of my slender wrists in one hand and held them behind me, while he continued to French-kiss my ear.

"You DO taste even better," he whispered and swiveled me around on the heels of my sneakers. "I need more," he uttered and suddenly opened and forced his mouth on mine. My moans grew intense as his swift, agile tongue swam inside my mouth. Running my hands up his broad tight shoulders I let the kiss envelope me.

Jerking my head back to catch my breath, I pushed to keep him at arm's length. "Damn Porge, you are one HELL of a kisser!" I exclaimed, as his hot hands slid down my back.

"You have NO idea how long I wanted to kiss you... like that!" He said, pulling me close for more. Rolling my head to one side, his lips and tongue went to work on my neck and chest. "I think I've always loved..."