Mommy's Indiscretion

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

My son had asked if he could stay out late. His buddy Jim, a year older than he, was back in town and had invited the gang to his place. For reasons to be explained I wasn't enthralled by the prospect and called Jim's parents, looking for a reason Ronnie couldn't go. They told me they'd be out of town, but Jim had gotten permission and Audrey, his older sister, would be there to ensure all remained copasetic. I knew Audrey, a good responsible kid, and unable to manufacture a plausible reason to say no, said yes, but reminded Ronnie he had a swim meet in the morning and we were only seven weeks away from the state championships.

Intending to stay up late, make sure he got in okay, I fell asleep in bed with a book and the light on. Waking a little after two in the morning I went to check on him. His clothes were in a heap on the floor. I picked them up, pressed them to my nose. There was a slight, very slight, smell of beer. I leaned over, kissed him, checked his breath. No smell of beer, toothpaste, or anything else he might use to hide the scent. Instead there was bad breath; he should have brushed, his mouth was going to taste terrible in the morning. Dropping his clothes off in the laundry, I returned to bed.

The next morning, unusual for him, he was sullen and non-communicative. Hangover crossed my mind, but neither his breath last night nor his movements now showed the ill-effects of alcohol. My surmise was confirmed at the swim meet. Attacking the water with an intensity that bordered on the savage he not only won both his events, his times were personal bests.

I had a bad feeling about this, but decided to give him space. Still, after two days I asked. He said he didn't want to talk about it. There was real anger in his voice.

* * * * *

It had been just he and I since, four years ago, I'd divorced his stepfather. I had not married his father; I barely knew his father. He was a ridiculously handsome private just out of basic training in a scrumptious uniform who I met in a club I'd gotten into with one of those storefront fake id's.

So I was eighteen year old single mom, a child myself, and not a particularly responsible one. My son was usually with my parents while I, 5 feet 5 inches, 115 pounds, stylish short blond hair, blue eyes, more cute than beautiful, had a good time, a very good time. I loved flirting, loved to show skin, loved to fuck, loved it dangerous, loved to push the edge of the envelope. I'd do it outdoors, where I might get caught, where I did get caught. I did it in parking lots as people walked by. I tried girls, took on several guys at a time. I was naughty and I loved it

At least I learned one lesson: condoms were required. No exceptions. "Yeah buster, you're a hunk, that is a very impressive instrument, by reputation you know how to use it, and yes, my period was ten days ago, but NO EXCEPTIONS. NO EXCEPTIONS. GOT IT, NO FRICKING EXCEPTIONS." So happily I was disease free and Ronald an only child.

But my parents moved to Florida, it got harder to sneak one night stands past Ronald, and the scene grew tiresome. Eighteen year old party guys are cool; twenty-eight year old party guys have the definite smell of losers.

And then I met Eric. Going through a divorce he was, let's say plain but nice, well-paid, seemed stable, and under my guidance became a decent lover. He'd also never had a "hot" girlfriend before and loved showing me off, willing to play to the exhibitionist in me. He'd take me to a restaurant where I'd forget to wear panties, accidentally flash a breast, then fuck me in his car in the parking lot before dropping me at my place.

There was one problem. I'd never been in a traditional relationship. Without any idea how to handle the "I have a kid" thing I kept Eric and Ronald on parallel tracks while we dated. I know I sound like an idiot, but my soon-to-be husband and I never discussed what his role would be in Ronnie's life. After we married Eric assumed, as the man of the house, he could tell Ronnie what to do and when he did my son looked at him like who is this stranger giving me orders and I felt hopelessly caught in the middle. I didn't know how to handle it, but did know that Ronald was a good kid and Eric should treat him with love and respect and not as a rival for my affection. And there was something else, not as important, but important. Now that I was his wife there was no more showing me off, I was his and his alone: I was to dress conservatively and there'd be no more flashing, no more public sex. Six months in my marriage had already begun the death spiral that dragged out over the next three years and left us all miserable and damaged.

After the divorce, after a few desultory dates, I decided no men until Ronald left home.

In one way in was easy. I didn't miss the meeting of strangers, the uncomfortable conversation, the trying to discern how much bullshit I was being fed.

In another way it was hard. I think I've been clear. I'm a flirt with a high sex drive, a very high sex drive. I love to show skin, love the attention, love to fuck. So I wasn't perfect; there were indiscretions. A semi-regular thing with a married out-of-town businessman who called on our company, an old lover back in town for a couple of weeks, and the one I alluded to earlier and which I'll tell you more about shortly, but they were still too few and too far between.

* * * * *

After Eric left our home became the place where my son and his friends gathered. We had a pool and I liked having the kids over, liked cooking for them, and, perhaps in an attempt as recompense for Eric, was less restrictive than most parents. Nothing too crazy, but I let teen-aged boys be teen-aged boys. And yeah, I enjoyed being the hot mom, enjoyed showing some skin, enjoyed those young men's eyes on me. I'd been a good looking teenager, I'd been a good-looking twenty-something, now I was a good looking woman in her thirties. I stayed in shape, dressed and kept my hair and make-up stylish.

The other parents treated me like a saint, willing to entertain their children during long hot afternoons, but my inner thoughts were not always saintly, for sometimes, after feeling their eyes on me all afternoon I'd excuse myself, go to my bedroom on the second floor overlooking the pool, double-check the lock on my door, reach into my lingerie drawer, and look out my window at all those boys and their hard young bodies and think about the way they looked at me and press the vibrator to my clit and the orgasm would make my toes curl.

And that night, lights out, I'd open my lingerie drawer again, check the batteries, and replaying those boys' eyes in my mind, do it again, but this time nice and slow.

* * * * *

After seven days of monosyllabic responses, after a week of not seeing any of Ronald's ubiquitous friends, I steeled my courage with a second glass of wine and headed upstairs. Something was wrong and I was pretty darn sure I knew what it was.

I knocked on his door.

"What do you want?"

"To talk."

"I don't want to."

There was real anger there.

Unexpectedly, I started crying. I backed away, fled to my bedroom.

I'm not sure how long, but it wasn't long before I heard a knock. "May I come in?"

"In a second." I went to the bathroom, wiped away my tears and mascara, looked in the mirror, a little better, not much.

"Come in."

"Sorry Mom, I didn't mean to make you cry. Its just that..."

He stopped, unsure of what to say. I patted the bed and said, "Come sit with me son." He did, but he wouldn't make eye contact.

"What is it?"

He looked at me; there was hurt, some fear, some concern in his eyes. Still, he couldn't say it.

I took his hand in mine and said, "It is about me son?"

"Yeah."

"Then you better tell me."

"I don't know how to say it."

"I find that sometimes if you just start, it comes."

After a pause he said, "That night I went to Jim's, he'd gotten a left over keg from a friend at a local fraternity. Everybody but me was drinking, I had that swim meet. They were going at it real good, guys were falling down drunk, then Jim started talking."

I'd feared this moment. I'd decided if it came I'd be honest with my son.

"He said you and he, you, you..."

"Had sex?"

"Yes."

My mind on the blowback I'd get about screwing a teen-aged boy, even if he'd been eighteen, I said, "And now everyone knows?"

"No. The guys were drunk; no one was paying attention. Jim doesn't remember saying it; the guys don't remember hearing it. Only I was sober, only I remember."

Although unsure of to what end, I stalled for time. "Jim's parents told me Audrey was there, that she'd keep an eye on you guys."

Despite my earlier resolve to tell the truth, while he said, "She did, when she found out about the keg she called some friends who are Uber drivers, they got everyone home safe," I ran the options through my mind. I could lie, say it wasn't true, that it was the beer talking, but Ronald would only push harder, ask me questions or, even worse, probe Jim for details. Ronnie would learn the truth and once Jim knew the secret was out, everyone would know. He wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to brag.

On the other hand Jim had promised to keep it a secret and it appeared he'd done so until reaching a near fatal degree of intoxication. There was a chance he'd get that drunk again, brag about it again, but that would likely back at college, out of state, to his frat buddies. He'd just be another dude with a tale of how he nailed the MILF back home. Even if they believed him, no one would know who I was. The story would die there.

It was best to fess up. Telling the truth now, ending the inquiry now, was the safest way to go.

"It's true son, Jim and I, we uh, did it."

"How often."

"That one time."

"What happened, why?"

"It was one of the days when you and your friends were hanging by the pool. I made a tub of guacamole, you were all gorging yourselves and a bunch of you kept asking me to join you, so I put on a swimsuit and hung with you by the water."

Despite my resolve, that was not full disclosure. I'd put on my yellow bikini, one I look especially hot in, and loved the attention.

"Later on I jumped off the diving board, hit the water the wrong way, strained my neck."

I left out that the boys had been flirting with me, how so many of his friends were, like my son, fit, trim, and athletic, how I loved their eyes on me. I didn't say that they'd been daring me to jump so when I did I was the center of attention and what a charge that was. I didn't say any of that, but it was all true.

Ron said, "Yeah, I remember. We left you in the lurch, didn't help you clean up, most of the guys headed for a basketball game."

I said, "You offered to stay and help, but I told you to go, that I'd be okay. I was packing up the food when Jim came back looking for his wallet. We found it under a pile of towels. He noticed I was moving stiffly and offered to rub my neck. It was innocent, or started that way."

I didn't say I'd insisted the boys leave and was packing up only the necessities, getting the food in the frig, because after an afternoon of all those eyes on me my sex was on fire and I had a threesome planned with my dildo and vibrator.

And then I stopped. This story would make more sense with some background. He was eighteen, old enough to hear this, and yeah, I was looking for a little sympathy.

"Ronnie, after the divorce I decided to stop dating until you finished high school, focus on being a mom."

I stopped, unsure of how explicit I could be. My son let me know.

"So you've abstained?"

"A few indiscretions, but yes. I want you to know I happy with my decision. It's just that, well I have all the normal needs for attention and," I stopped a second, searching for the right word, added, "companionship."

There was a queer look on my son's face.

"What is it?"

"I'd hear you and Eric at night, it seemed like most every night. You seem to have a strong need for companionship."

I blushed.

"I'm sorry Mom, I've embarrassed you."

"A little, but yeah, I've always had more than my friends."

"Thanks Mom, thanks for giving that up for me. I've liked it since Eric left, it's been nice, just the two of us."

"Well, the two of us and your army of friends."

I could see his anger receding; honesty was the best policy. I snuggled up to him, he put his arm around me, and despite the fact that I should be used to it, it still took a second to process that this firm muscular man's body belonged to my boy.

"I know I should have told Jim, 'No,' but I felt lonely, my neck hurt, but it was more than that. After an afternoon of your friends paying attention to me, flirting with me, I was aroused, and the more Jim touched me, the more I liked it; we ended up getting carried away. It was nice, but it was a mistake. He promised to keep it to himself."

My son's strong hand now massaging my neck he said, "Mom, I know Jim, he can keep a secret and except for this one time I haven't heard if from anyone, would have if it was a rumor. Now he's back in school, halfway across the country. I don't think you have anything to worry about. Did he approach you about it again?"

It took me a second to answer, for my mind had returned to that afternoon. It may have been wrong, but Jim had fucked me with a young man's enthusiasm and vigor. I'd loved every second.

"He came by a few days later, when you weren't here. I told him no; he accepted that, never brought it up again. Don't be angry with him, it was my fault."

"I'm not angry Mom. I guess I understand. After all, you're a total fox. I don't think many of my friends would say no to you. In fact, I'm a bit guilty myself. I know my friends check you out when there here. I like showing off my good-looking Mom."

* * * * *

That night, replaying my romp with Jim in my mind, I loaded fresh batteries in my vibrator and although I preferred the lights on, I like watching my toy glide on my skin, I like watching myself in the mirror, I turned them off. I wouldn't want Ronnie thinking the light shining under my door was an invitation to visit. Just in case, I put on loose fitting pyjamas, easy to peel away, and back on.

I turned it to the low setting and, sitting up in bed, ran the vibrator down my body, massaged my muscles with it, dragged it on my breasts, playing with different pressures and speeds, touched my feet and hands, my arms and legs, my belly, my shoulders and neck, my scalp, let the vibrations flow through me. This was one way vibrators outperform men, they don't get tired or impatient, they're happy to explore every inch of your body, find the sexual pleasure inherent in your entire physique.

Laying it on my thigh I moved it towards my sex, holding it feather light to my skin; it flowed through me like the seismic waves of an earthquake.

I laid it on my belly, the vibrations centered on my clitoris and vagina. I moved a finger down - my clit, rigid and hot, had shed its hood, stood tall, proud, and throbbing - caressed it.

"Uuunnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhh."

I rolled a nipple between two fingers, pushed a finger inside my sex, no lubricant was necessary.

"Uuuunnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhh."

I touched my toy to my clit.

"Uuuuunnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

I'd picked this particular vibrator - smooth, no rough edges, impermeable to bodily fluids - for a reason. I moved its tip down by labia, over, around, and on my pussy lips, pushed it inside, and holding it in place rotated my hips, pressing the walls of my sex to it, exploring angles and pressures.

It was time for what I liked best.

Taking hold of the vibrator with both hands, I angled my hips forward and pressed it to the roof of my sex. While reverberating through my entire body, the focus was on the nerve endings of my g-spot and cervix, which fired madly insanely psychotically.

My son said I was a hot mom and that his friends noticed. I thought about the pool, filled with those young men, sweet boys with bodies hard and firm and wonderful teenaged sex drives to match.

"Unh unh ung unh."

I thought about those young men staring at me when they thought I wouldn't notice, in bed at night jerking on their hard young cocks with pictures of me in their head.

"Unnhh unnhhh unnggggg uuunnnhh."

And Ronnie knew, he liked showing off his mother.

"Unnhnh unnhhh unnggggg uuunnnhhhh."

I needed a young hard body driving a cock into me.

"Unh unh ung unh unh unh unh ung unh unh unh."

Someone with a crazy-ass sex drive, willing to try anything, experiment, be naughty, but someone I could rely on, someone I could trust.

"Unh unh ung unh unh unh ung unh unh unh unh ung unh unh ."

Someone I could fuck, someone I could talk to, someone who'd listen to me, who cared about me, who'd fuck me.

"Unh unh ung unh unh unh ung unh unh unh ung unh unh unh unh unh unh."

With a big cock, thick and hard and long, filling me, stretching me, threatening to tear me in two.

"Unh unh ung unh unh unh ung unh unh unh ung unh unh unh unh unh unh unh unh."

It started at the bottom of my feet, hot and tingly, crept up my legs, burned, swelled, exploded. My body consumed by fire and heat and need, I was coming, I was yelling.

Exhausted, soaked with sweat, I turned the vibrator off, took the batteries out, and pushed them under a pillow. I heard my son flush a toilet and head back to his room. He used to listen to Eric and I, he mus have heard me now. I fell into a deep contented slumber.

* * * * *

The next morning, drifting in and out of sleep, enjoying some rich sexual fantasies, I heard a knock on my door.

"Ronnie, is that you?"

"Yeah, I made some coffee, thought I'd bring you some."

Glancing at the clock - I'd slept in - and smelling the coffee, I said, "Thanks sweetie, come on in."

Dressed in his swim trunks and tee-shirt, freshly showered, he smelled nice and fresh, a nifty contrast with the coffee's rich aroma and, I noted, the lingering scent of last night's masturbation.

"Hey Mom."

Moving over to make room on the edge of the bed I said, "Thank you sweetie, what's the occasion?"

He said, "I guess I just wanted to...," then stopped as his eyes fixed on the bed beside me.

I turned and saw my vibrator.

"Okay, I'm embarrassed."

Regaining his composure he sat next to me and said, "Don't be Mom. I feel bad enough that you've given up sex, I don't want to add to that you're embarrassed about masturbating. And if you're embarrassed, I'm a teenaged male, think about how often I do it. And I've seen them before, I had a girlfriend who love it when we played with her toys."

I should have said something, that even if they both know it's true there are things mothers and sons don't discuss, but in light of recent events I didn't want to push him away, so all I said was, "I'm not sure if your mother needs that much detail, and I'm pretty sure I shouldn't display my toys to you."

I probably should have left that "s" off toy.

But not seeming to notice he said, "Mom, I haven't appreciated all you've done for me. You gave up sex for me and then it happens once and I act like a complete butt-head. I want you to know I'm sorry. If it's okay I'd like to invite the guys over this weekend. They've been lobbying; they miss the pool, miss seeing my good-looking Mom, and I miss showing her off."

* * * * *

They came over but I, still skittish, wore shorts and a blue tee-shirt and spent more time inside than usual. I also kept an eye on my son, despite his assurance that all was fine I was looking for, but not finding, anger or concern. In fact the opposite seemed true, he encouraged the boys to interact with me. So they'd come inside, hang, flirt, ask me to join them in the pool. Later, when he asked if everyone could come back the next day, I said yes.