Mommy's Indiscretion

Ronnie's helped me clean up and when we were done I thanked him, said I was going to take a shower where, drilling a dildo into my sex, thinking of those boy's eyes on me, imagining their eyes on me tomorrow, knowing they wanted to fuck me, I came. I was loud, but WTF. Ronnie had heard me last night, he'd seen the vibrator. He knew exactly what I was doing up here.

* * * * *

Back from the store Ronnie carried the hot dogs and hamburgers inside and dumped the drinks in the cooler while I retreated to my bedroom and put on tee-shirt and shorts.

When I came down Ronnie said, "It's the perfect day for a tan Mom."

Back upstairs I put on a one piece swim suit, came back down.

"I don't know Mom, I was thinking the purple bikini."

"Are you trying to show off your mother?"

"Absolutely."

I put it on, looked in my bedroom mirror. It was skimpy but not my skimpiest, and covered all strategic areas. Back downstairs Ronnie said, "Perfect, let's get some lotion on you."

* * * * *

While the grill heated up I lay in the sun with a book. Not that I read it, boys were constantly chatting me up, making time with the hot mom.

Initially I'd check my son, concerned about how he'd react, but he was encouraging the attention and I relaxed, enjoying the eyes on me, imagining their dirty thoughts. I even tolerated an occasional, if wee-bit inappropriate, hand on me.

As the afternoon rolled on the boys got more rambunctious, tossing each other around, shoving each other into the pool. Ronnie must have seen it on my face, because just as I was about to tell them to calm down he said, "Okay everybody, if we're going to be wild let's get organized. Chicken fight, I get Mom."

I could have said no, but swept along by the boy's acclamation I was soon perched on my son's shoulders. We breezed to the finals. My son the swimmer, comfortable in the water, was a strong powerful base and not only was I in shape, the boys and girls were holding back, afraid to get too rough with Ronnie's mother, although a few exploited the opportunity to run their hands on my body.

The finals, however, were competitive. The girl I was facing was stronger than me, bigger than me (especially in the chest), and determined to win. My son was faster than the other base and holding me tight, bounced from spot to spot, keeping me free of the women's grasp.

We were also the center of the attention, eyes fixed on us, and my sex, already wet, was grinding on my son's muscular shoulder and neck. When he bounced, when he held me tight, he increased the pressure. It felt good, real good.

Finally the girl and I got grips on each other, one of us was going down, and she was winning, but Ronnie moved suddenly to the left, I shifted my weight, and she lost her balance. Tumbling into the water she pulled me in after her and when I popped back up everyone's eyes were on me. No, they were on my chest. My bikini top had been ripped off. My nipples instantly hardened.

"Don't worry Mom, I got it."

Ronnie moved behind me, his hands brushing my breasts, and tied it on. Years in the gym meant my "B" breasts remained firm and round and I saw admiration and desire in our guests' eyes. I could feel it in my sex.

When done my son leaned into me, kissed the side of my head, said to me, "Better champ," then said to his friends, "Can we agree nobody saw that?"

* * * * *

As everyone left Ronnie said, "I'll clean up Mom, why don't you go ahead and take a shower."

The water cascading over my body I leaned on the shower wall, dug my fingers into my sex, thumbed my clit. How many of those boys would jerk off tonight thinking about my tits?

I thought about the old days, about exposing my body to strangers, fucking men where I might be seen.

I slid to the floor. Ronnie knew what was going on, he was fine with it. There were limits: I couldn't flash his friends, I couldn't fuck his friends, but the next time they came over I'd wear something skimpier. Could I accidentally lose my top again? I did love those eyes on my tits.

The orgasm bulldozing through me I screamed, "OOOHHHHHHH FUUUCCKKKK YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS,"

There was no question my son heard.

And although I didn't know it, I'd begun losing control of my life.

* * * * *

That night, Ronnie and I sat on the couch, television on. I was leaning into his body, like the old days, before he found out about Jim.

He said, "Everybody had a good time today, hanging by the pool, seeing my hot mom."

It wasn't something he'd have said to me a few weeks before, but still concerned with my tryst with Jim I let it pass and said, "You sure it doesn't bother you?"

"I'm sure. Mom, I really do appreciate what you've given up for me. If you dig the attention I understand, it's fine with me."

"You don't think I'm a pervert?"

"No mom. If there was a pool full of hot young women checking me out, do you think I'd object?"

"No, but I'm a mother, I'm supposed to know better."

He draped his arm over my shoulder, pulled me to him - he was erect, he must be thinking about that pool full of women - and said, "You're also a woman, I think I'm old enough to understand that."

* * * * *

At first it was taciturn, unspoken. I'd suggest a swim suit, Ronnie would suggest another, smaller, tighter, or more translucent, but that was never the reason. The reason was it went well with my eyes, or I hadn't worn it in awhile, or he liked it. When I wasn't cooking or serving drinks I'd sit on a recliner, a bit removed from the group, sunglasses on, book on my lap. It was a spot Ronnie had chosen, a place where everyone could see me. I was an object on display, but wearing my sunglasses I was an object who could survey the eyes on her.

I'm not pretending I didn't know it was wrong. A couple of times, steeling my resolve, I sat with Ronnie, told him we had to stop, no more skimpy suits, no more showing me off in front of his friends, and his hand working the muscles of my neck he said he'd respect my decision, but he didn't see the harm, his friends enjoyed it, and if I liked eyes on me what was wrong with that? And the next time they came over, or maybe the time after that, my resolve would dissolve and Ronnie would say whatever I wanted was fine and we'd do it again and I'd feel safe because Ronnie was there to keep order, to keep me safe, just in case it went too far.

And when everyone left Ronald would say he'd clean up and I go to my bedroom and masturbate and come and no longer care if he heard my howl.

* * * * *

Soon it was more than the pool. When we went out, to eat, shop, to a school event, a swim meet, he'd suggest something tight and revealing, and when we were there he'd describe the eyes on me, let me know a guy was checking me out, growing ever more graphic, telling me who was staring at my ass, or my tits, or my legs. When he wasn't with me I started flashing again - not like the old days, no public sex - but I'd accidentally leave a button or two on my shirt undone so when I stood a certain way that kid at the cash register got a glimpse of the MILF's side-boob. Then I took another step and when Ronnie was with me I'd go braless in an outfit that provided men standing in the right place a peek.

* * * * *

The high school state swimming championships were held in Syracuse. Ronnie finished first and second in his individual events; the team took third place.

I sat on the front row. The swimmers were delicious, fit, trim, and muscular. Ronnie would bring them over to meet me, show off his hot mom.

On the way home we stayed overnight in Binghamton, where we met with the admissions department and toured the campus, perky sweet pretty Stacy our guide, my son asking the usual questions until one stood out.

"What bars do the frats favor?"

She mentioned several places, Mulligan's was the most rowdy.

Ronald might drink, but he'd never done so in front of me, and had never expressed an interest in joining a fraternity.

* * * * *

Later, at dinner Ronald said, "Let's go to Mulligan's."

"Son, you're too young to drink and why that place, you heard Stacy, it's a little crazy."

"I'm not going to drink, I'm going to keep an eye on you, make sure you're safe. I want you to wear the beige shirt I asked you to pack, boots, jeans, hair in a pony tail."

"What's going on Ronald?"

"Trust me Mom."

Did I? Yeah, as of late too much, I'd allowed him liberties no mother should. Still, I didn't know anyone here and was curious. What did he have in mind?

* * * * *

I looked over my shoulder into the mirror. The boots had a heel, the jeans were tight, my ass looked great. The shirt was not particularly sexy, loose fitting, long sleeves, buttons down the front. Overall a nice look, but not over-the-top.

* * * * *

It was early, there were open tables. Returning from the bar I slid my son's coke across the table, took a sip of my beer. It was a local craft beer, it was good.

"Mom, don't look, but three guys at the end of the bar, one yellow, two red shirts, checked out your butt when you walked back to the table. You got a fan club."

"Son, why would a bunch of college guys look at old lady like me?"

Yeah, I was fishing for a compliment.

"The same reason my friends do, you're hot."

I tilted my head, pretended to clear something from the corner of my eye. Ronnie was right, they were checking me out, they could be more subtle. I felt a tingle between my legs.

We talked and drank, nibbled on the peanuts provided by the bar, and I'd occasionally glance in the direction of the fan club, enjoying their attention, until Ronnie, seeing my state of mind, said, "Mom, undo a couple of buttons of your shirt."

"Son, I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"You know why not, people could see down it."

"Oh c'mon Mom, you're wearing a bra, it's no more revealing than your bikinis, no one here knows you, and look at these college girls. Everyone of them is showing her stuff. You don't want to be the odd women out."

He had a point, these women were showing a lot of skin, and while his suggestion that I compete with them was transparent, it was also effective. Still I said, "No."

But he'd detected the uncertainty in my voice, and maybe I'd wanted him to. Taking charge he leaned across the table and said, "Then I'll do it."

Covering my chest with my hands I said, "Son, no. I'll do it, but if someone I know comes through the door I'm disowning you."

I leaned back, catching my fan club in my peripheral vision, and hands trembling - this was turning me on — undid two buttons then, looking at my son, deliberately folded my shirt back. With my breasts there was no cleavage, but the act was undeniably sexual, uncovering myself to what people must assume was my boyfriend. A quick sideways glance confirmed the fan club had noticed

Ron said, "Did the guys catch the show?"

"Yes."

"They're thinking I'm one lucky dude."

"What if they knew you were my son."

He reached across the table, slipped a hand into mine, the gesture of a lover, and said, "They don't, and it's best they don't. We wouldn't want them getting too aggressive."

He had a point, I squeezed his hand.

* * * * *

He finished his coke, I my beer. It was good stuff.

"Ready for another round son."

Looking around he said, "Sure, but I haven't seen the waitress in fifteen minutes and the crowds picked up. It's going to be hard getting to the bar, although I see a place you can squeeze in, right by the fan club."

"Do you think that's a good idea? It might send the wrong message, they might come on to me."

"Mom, they're your fan club, you don't want to disappoint. But you make a good point. Give me a kiss first, so they'll know you're with me."

Saying, "You're a bad influence," I stood, walked around the table, kissed his cheek. Affectionate, not sexual, but still a girlfriend's kiss. When I turned the fan club looked away, pretending they hadn't been watching.

* * * * *

"Hey guys, can a girl squeeze in here."

The fan club scrunched over, but not too hard. When I leaned forward, my forearms on the edge of the bar, their bodies were pressed to mine. They worked out, but were far from a match for Ronnie's trim swimmer's physique.

One of them said, "Haven't seen you in here before."

I turned towards him, my shirt hanging open, and as his two friends looked down my chest at my bra-covered breasts I nodded in Ronnie's direction and said, "I'm in town with my boyfriend, he's touring the school, thinking about coming here next year."

The bartender arrived. I ordered another beer, another coke.

One of the guys said, "Coke?"

I turned to him, giving the first guy the view I'd provided his buddies, and said, "Yes, he's eighteen, he knows the rules. There are certain things he can't do, and certain things he can. The things he can do he does real well."

The bartender arrived with the drinks, I gave him a nice tip, said, "See you later guys."

Feeling the fan club's eyes on me I put an extra wiggle in my walk as I headed back to the table. My sex was doing calisthenics.

* * * * *

I put down my empty glass. My son said, "One more round?"

I checked the fan club, they were pretty happy. It would be fun to tease them again. I looked to the bouncer. He was big; he had his eye on them. It would be safe.

"Yeah."

Ronnie said, "First, I need you to go to the bathroom, powder your nose, take off your bra."

"Son."

"Think of the fan club, those boys are going home alone tonight, at least give them a fond memory. And we both know you'll love it."

"Perhaps there are things you shouldn't know."

"Can't put the genie back in the bottle."

In my defense I'd had two beers and the thought of flashing those boys had ignited my already overheated sex. I could excuse it as a mere wardrobe malfunction, they shouldn't peek anyway, and considering what some of these college girls were wearing my mid-sized boobs were not exactly a big deal. In the bathroom as I reached under my shirt and unbuckled my bra a striking red-head came in and said, "You go girl." The camp fire in my sex was well on it's way to incinerating the forest.

* * * * *

"Hey guys, remember me, can you make a little room? My boyfriend wants another coke."

They tried, but they were not in the best of shape and I had to wedge my body through them to the bar. I immediately got the bartender's attention - he remembered the tip - and then a double and triple-take as he saw the outline of my nipples in my shirt and, as I leaned forward, my breasts.

I placed my order then swivelled towards the fan club. Several beers past any ability to be subtle their eyes fixed on my breasts, which flushed a deep red.

"So what do you guys think of the school? Should I recommend it to my boyfriend?"

Nothing.

"I'm sorry guys, are my tits distracting you? I guess you're wondering what happened to the bra. My boyfriend has it. Well, my drinks are here. See you fellows around."

I sat down, but had no interest in my beer. The thing that needed my attention was between my legs. I leaned forward, not caring that Ronald could see my tits, and suggested we get out of there. At the hotel he told me he'd hang downstairs and call a friend. In the shower I thumbed my clit, shoved a finger into my asshole, and fricking came like I hadn't in years.

I crawled into bed, texted him, let him know I was done, then pretended I didn't hear him masturbate in the shower.

* * * * *

"Is the gang coming over Memorial Day?"

"Nah, a lot of the guys have family obligations. I have an alternative plan."

Trying to hide my disappointment, for I was looking forward to all those eyes on me, I said, "What is it?"

"A place near Kiln, an old-fashioned country swimming hole. All we need bring is food, sun block, and bathing suits."

Kiln was an hour away and one state over. We knew no one there. What did he have in mind?

* * * * *

It was beautiful day, a few clouds floating in a light blue sky. The countryside was rural, rolling hills covered with trees, occasionally interrupted by fields, the legacy of long abandoned farms. For several miles we'd seen not a building and only a few passing cars, then came over the crest of a hill to find several dozen cars and trucks, centered on a bridge, parked by the side of the road. Ronald glanced at the odometer, said, "This is it," and, after driving over the bridge - there was a stream underneath - parked. Wearing sandals, a tee-shirt, and a skimpy bikini we grabbed the cooler, filled with sausage and hamburger meat. I could hear a commotion; the party was downstream.

It was an informal and, we learned, weekly event, and while strangers we were treated like friends, invited to sit, share a beer, eat. There were grills going - several guys had driven them in on their pick-up trucks - and our contribution was quickly spread around. Someone set up a sound system on the back of a truck and people moved into a shallow part of the stream to dance.

As they danced several women shed their bikini tops.

I'd been chatting with a young man, not much older than my son. Clear blue eyes, strong chin, light brown hair cut short and neat; he asked me to dance.

I glanced at Ronnie, who was engrossed in conversation with a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. She was attractive, mid-length brown hair, lacked my toned physique, a little plump, and had quite a pair. I felt something, I'm not sure what. At home Ronnie focused his attention on me. Now he was paying attention to Miss Big Tits.

I stood, took the young man's hand, his name was Jeremiah, and headed for the water. He, noting me glancing at my son, said, "That's Aunt Miriam, guys can't seem to get enough of those knockers."

By now most of the women were topless. I removed my bikini top. They may not be as big as Aunt Miriam's, but were a hell of a lot firmer.

We danced, switched partners for a couple of songs, danced together again. I was into it, enjoying the sexual energy coursing through me as I danced topless in front of strangers. When we headed back to our spot Ronnie and Auntie Big Tits were gone.

Jeremiah said, "They're probably at the clay cliff."

"What's that?"

"It's a bluff composed of natural clays. It's beautiful and because erosion drags the clay down, the base is a mix of all the colors."

On the way over I learned of his background. He'd joined the Army out of high school, been in for eighteen months. This was his final trip home before being stationed overseas. This was also his first visit to the party in the stream; it had grown spontaneously during the last year. He'd heard about it from family members and it turned out to be just the kind of blast he'd expected.

The cliff, set at the base of a large sand bar, was about forty feet tall and composed of strata of differently colored clays, magenta, purple, red, yellow. At the bottom of the bluff erosion had pooled these colors in patterns both beautiful and incomprehensible, blends no human would have imagined. And while fascinated by the palette laid out before me, I was not so fascinated that I hadn't noticed Ronnie and Auntie Big Tits weren't there. I said, "Where are your Aunt and my," what was the right word, "friend?"

Holding my hand Jeremiah said, "I suspect they're around," and led me along the sand bar until, behind a small dune, I saw my son laying in the warm sand and Ms. Big Tits effortlessly swallowing his cock. The woman gave serious head.

Part of me was, what? Pissed, jealous. Part of me was wildly aroused.

The second part won. I turned to Jeremiah and said, "Can we get our own dune."

Jeremiah had a nice cock.

* * * * *

On the way home Ronnie said, "It looked like you and Jeremiah were having fun."

I had Jeremiah's thick dick in my mouth when he said my friend and his Aunt were watching. The charge I'd gotten was fierce and, finger on my clit, I came just as Jeremiah exploded in my mouth. I swallowed his cum, then glanced to the side. My audience was gone.