My Drunk Slut Mom

When I had finished cleaning, I put mom's panties and party dress back on her. It wasn't too difficult, as she was both drunk and partially asleep. Once she was dressed, I lay her back on the couch and put a pillow under her head before tucking her in under a blanket. Hopefully, she would wake up later, not remembering a thing and thinking that she had collapsed as soon as she got home.

Before going upstairs, I put the towels in the washing machine along with some other stuff and started it up. Then I headed to the bathroom upstairs to clean myself off as well. I took my time in the shower, letting the warm water wash away any trace of my having had sex moments before. As I went to bed, the physical and mental exhaustion from the evening's events overpowered the nervousness I was feeling, and I quickly sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part 2

For some reason, I didn't think about the events of the night before when I woke up. I just stumbled out of bed, washed my face and put on some clothes. Then I drowsily went downstairs and chucked a frozen pizza pie in the oven for a simple Saturday morning breakfast. I dropped down in a chair in front of the TV while waiting for it to cook.

Still nothing. My brain wasn't properly awake, it seemed. It just thought about how tired I was and that I could have stayed in bed for another hour or two. I started negotiating with myself - maybe I should go back to sleep? No, because I was also hungry and I wanted that pizza pie. But I could sleep here on the couch after breakfast, right? Sure, unless my body had woken up by then. Thus it went back and forth until the timer sounded in the kitchen. For the next ten minutes, I just sat on the couch and ate my breakfast while watching morning shows.

Then mom came down the stairs. Looking haggard. Her hair was messy and she was wearing a long nightshirt. As I looked in her direction, it all returned to me, what we'd done the night before. That she'd come home drunk again, and that I had... shit... that I had actually fucked my own mom.

For a few seconds, the fear returned and I dreaded the confrontation that was about to hit me over the head like a twenty ton weight. Was she...?

"Mhh... morning..." she mumbled as she walked past, heading to the kitchen.

"Morning, mom..."

"Any juice left..?"

"Yeah, there is. In the fridge."

"Mh..."

So far, nothing. She just went to the kitchen and got herself something to drink. No comments about last night, good or bad. My heart rate started to slow down as it seemed she didn't recall the previous night's events - if she had, she would surely have taken my head off by now. The least I would have expected was a thorough chewing out. Seeing that none was forthcoming and that mom just started making herself some breakfast, I tried some small talk instead.

"How was the party?" I called out to the kitchen.

"Meh. All right, I guess...." she replied while making herself a sandwich.

"How... long did it last?"

"Don't remember."

"Was it fun?"

"Sure... probably... It's a bit of a blur... that usually happens when I drink too much. I think... there was something about a... George? Or... something. Whatever. I'm hungry."

She turned away and started wolfing down her sandwich. Okay, so her memory was a bit fuzzy. Again. Good news for me. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have escaped the possibly dire consequences of my actions once again. As long as mom was nearby, though, I still felt that sword of Damocles hanging over me - that threat of suddenly being punished by her righteous fury. Eventually, I left the living room and went upstairs, just to avoid having to face her.

I didn't need to worry. Mom didn't remember a thing. She seemed completely oblivious to anything that had happened after leaving the party, and she didn't seem too bothered about it either. Most people would probably be annoyed that they have a hole in their memory, but mom was pretty relaxed about it, saying that this was a common occurrence whenever she got sauced. Over the next several days, she behaved like nothing at all had happened between us, because as far as she was concerned, nothing had.

I, on the other hand, kept reliving the moment in my head. The moment when I stood over her, looking at her beautiful naked body. The moment when I slid inside her, feeling her wonderfully tight channel contract around my pulsating shaft. The moment when she pulled me closer, encouraging me to fuck her faster and harder...

Every time I got horny over the next several weeks, mom was all I could think about. The sight of her, the sounds she made when I thrust in her, the incredible feeling... Rather than thinking of the girls at school, supermodels or movie stars, fantasizing about one of them going down on me, I would jerk off in the shower, picturing the sight of my mother's head bobbing up and down in my lap. All I could think about was having sex with my mother, wishing that it would happen again soon...

Then, once I'd had an orgasm and my head cleared, I felt ashamed. Damn, I had actually fucked my own mom. While she was drunk and helpless. Shouldn't I do something about this? Stop it from happening again, somehow? Take some precautions in case it did?

I was walking through a supermarket when that thought occurred to me. I had just passed the shelves with condoms and other 'intimacy paraphernalia', and I swallowed nervously at the prospect of buying such things for the first time. Like any teenager needing to build up the courage to do so, I walked around in the shop a dozen times before chickening out and leaving empty-handed.

I then debated the issue in my head. I mean, even if I never did anything with mom again, I should have some condoms, I thought. Every guy should have some of those. And practice using them, so that when the time comes, you don't spend half an hour trying and failing to put one on. That's how I justified it to myself. It wasn't really that I wanted to keep having sex with my mother - it was just a sensible, reasonable thing to do. Yes, that was it.

I drove for almost an hour to a completely different store way on the other side of town. I never came here, so nobody'd recognize me, I thought. It was also a pretty big store, giving me anonymity in the crowd. Still nervous, I walked in, started filling up the cart with soda, snacks, toothbrushes and lots of other random items... and throwing in a pack of condoms, hoping it would 'disappear' in the pile. My heart was still racing as I went to the checkout.

Of course, nothing happened. Nobody said anything. No strange looks from the cashier or other people hanging around. It felt like everybody was watching me, ready to comment on the fact that there were condoms in my pile of shopping. Somebody was probably going to shout out my name and ask what I was doing with those, right...?

Nope. Nobody cared. Luckily, most people are focused on their own issues and not what other people have in their shopping cart. Making my way out to the car with bags full of stuff I didn't really need, I felt elated that I had escaped with my mission accomplished without negative consequences. Once I was back home and in the safety of my own room, I hid the condoms in a drawer underneath a pile of notebooks from school. Mom definitely wouldn't find them there.

Not that she went looking. She didn't search my room, certainly not to look for condoms, porn magazines or anything like that. As long as she was sober, mom was nothing like that sexual creature who'd behaved in such a shockingly slutty manner - she was just... mom. The woman who could do it all - be a home maker, a career woman, a nurturer. The woman who helped me with my homework, who encouraged me to pursue my interests... It was just when she got drunk that she'd become a totally different person.

So they stayed in the drawer. There weren't many opportunities to use them, because she didn't go and get hammered all the time. And because I wasn't too interested in pursuing other girls. I did open the pack a couple of times, to practice. Got myself hard, pulled the foreskin back and rolled on the rubber sheath like I'd seen in instructional videos... It wasn't too difficult. I even tried jerking off while wearing one - although that felt a bit weird.

I felt confident that I could master their use once the opportunity arose, though. Now it was just a matter of waiting and hoping. Being ready. If she came home like that again and the chance to delve into that forbidden world of sex with a drunken minx presented itself once more, I would make sure I had protection on hand.

But the weeks went by. Then they turned into months... and no such opportunity came. At first, I was hopeful. Then I started growing restless. Impatient. Antsy. Hoping something would happen soon. Then I grew dejected. Losing hope. Feeling like it wasn't going to happen. Then I was disappointed, coming to the realization that after such a long time, it wouldn't.

As a substitute, my fantasies started growing bolder. I would jerk off in the shower, fantasizing about mom being in there with me, naked and horny. My thoughts would get more and more depraved, involving more and more outrageous sex. Oral, anal, threesomes... in my mind, we'd do it all. Then, instead, I squirted out my teenage boy juices all over the shower walls.

I'd fantasize about shooting them out somewhere else. On mom's face, on her tits, on her belly... or maybe in her mouth. I'd picture her mouth slurping away at my throbbing cock, not stopping even if I started cumming. Happily, she'd slurp away and swallow it all. Instead, there I was, jerking off in the shower, watching my cum being washed away into the drain as my orgasm subsided. And I'd return from my fantasy world, being forced to live with the disappointment that it wasn't real.

Still weeks and months later, my grandma was having a birthday party. Since it was her 70th, it was one of those big ones - a party with caterers and the whole extended family present. Not really my kind of party, because it was just a bunch of older people all asking the same questions and having the same conversations over and over, but at least the food was great.

I dressed up in my nicest suit and made sure I was well groomed before going. I had also made sure to bring my own gift, being considered an adult at this point. The biggest change in that respect was that unlike the parties five to ten years ago, I was no longer seated at the kids' table. Instead, I found myself at the end of the row, with my mom next to me on my right. Since there was nobody to the left of me, I'd be able to quickly leave the table any time I wanted to go for seconds at the buffet.

And like I said, the food was great. There was a long buffet table placed against the far wall. On it, there were trays of meats, fish, potatoes, rice and vegetables in all sorts of amazingly prepared variants. I went straight for the chicken wings. I also grabbed a few small pieces of bread, some potato salad, some lettuce and lots of cherry tomatoes to give the perfect blend of different tastes. When I returned to the table, my plate was adorned with a kaleidoscope of colors.

As I ate, I noticed that while the caterers just maintained the buffet, there were also waiters keeping people's glasses topped up. I had soda, of course, but as one of the servers refilled my glass, I noticed that I'd been given champagne by mistake. As she passed me again, I quietly asked her:

"Excuse me, could I have some soda instead, please?"

"Certainly, Sir." she said with a smile and took my glass, returning soon after with a new one and placing two glass bottles of soda in front of me.

The girl kept moving around, filling up people's glasses, and I returned to my meal. It was delicious. The wings were perfectly spiced, the potato salad had just the right consistency and the bread was simply divine. Some cook had really put their heart and soul into this. Mom was enjoying it too, I noticed.

Then I noticed that she was also enjoying her drinks. A slight nervous tingle went down my spine. She probably wasn't going to get all wild and hammered here at our family party, but my thoughts nonetheless went back to those times when she'd come home drunk... This time, I got to witness the whole process. Mom drank glass after glass of champagne, and while she didn't seem to get all messed up like a prom queen at a frat party, I did start to notice a few things.

First of all, she started getting a bit more... physical. She would hug people more, touch them, kiss their cheeks... Again, nothing crazy, just a little bit more interested in physical contact. To the people around her, I'm sure she seemed like her normal kind-hearted self, but I definitely noticed this little change.

She also laughed more, even if people told bad jokes. The next thing was the way she talked. She became a bit more direct. Just a touch, but noticeable if, like me, you were paying attention. Instead of dressing something up or sugar-coating it, she would go straight to the point. When talking to a relative who was slightly unhappy with her husband's mood of late, mom didn't beat around the bush and say something like: "maybe he could make a bit more of an effort in the relationship"... Instead, she just called him a "jackass who should work harder to please his woman".

Nobody else seemed to notice these little things. Maybe because other people were drinking too... or maybe because her antics did fit with the mood and the conversation, but I still took note of how she gradually changed as she was served more wine. The way she talked, the way she laughed... Then there was the way she moved.

When she swayed her hips, I couldn't take my eyes off her. That lovely body of hers - neither too thin nor too fat... she'd squeezed it into a tight-fitting dress that ended just above the knees. As she walked across the room to mingle with our relatives, it clung to her hips like plastic wrap. When she turned and bent down a bit to talk to one of the kids, I could see the contours of her wonderfully round medium-sized breasts. The cleavage wasn't too deep - this was a family party, after all - but I could still see a patch of naked skin between her breasts. I had to force myself to stop staring after a while.

Because there were quite a lot of people present, it took time to get seconds at the buffet table. In fact, there was a bit of a line building up, mostly because the older people were pretty slow movers. It was probably about half an hour or more since the first time I helped myself to a plate, but honestly, that was probably a good thing. Otherwise, I'd have stuffed myself so fast I would have gotten a stomach ache.

I saw the line and decided to wait, spending some time talking to people instead. Across the table from us were my cousins, Roy and Ellie. Very nice people who I really should make an effort to see more often. We started talking and had a lovely conversation about life, school and just catching up in general, and we also talked about the food. They told me to try the tiny sausages if I hadn't already, so I eventually made my way over to the buffet again, even though I had to wait in line for a while.

I filled my plate with the same things as last time, except that this time, I tried the tiny sausages recommended by my cousins. They were about the size of baby carrots, and the taste was amazing. I took as many as I could fit on the plate and made my way back to my seat.

Mom sat on her chair and chatted cheerily with the people around her. Having had quite a few drinks by now, she was more than a little tipsy. Not really drunk to the extent that she was becoming unpleasant, but clearly a bit... lively. As I sat down next to her and put my plate on the table, she turned to me and smiled.

"Heyy, you found the mini sausages? Good, aren't they!"

"Yeah." I just said, nodding and preparing to dig in.

"I prefer sausages to be a bit bigger, myself. The bigger, the better, in fact."

She sniggered. I felt myself blush a little bit. She was pretty bold, saying things like that in front of everybody... or maybe they didn't understand what she meant? I was pretty sure I did.

Then, just as I moved my chair forward, she went further. Mom leaned in and whispered to me:

"Like this one, for instance..."

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my lap. Without warning, her hand started kneading my cock. Not hard, just giving it a gentle squeeze. Not for long either, just a couple of times. Then she pulled her hand back and returned to her conversation with the person on her right.

Suddenly, my mind was on anything other than the food on my plate. I was swallowing hard and my face felt warm. I was probably blushing like mad. Did that really happen? Did my mom just grab my cock right here at the dinner table?

I moved further forward until my stomach was up against the edge of the table. The tablecloth now hiding my lap from the world, I could breathe a little easier knowing that my hardening erection wouldn't be seen by any passers-by. Then I couldn't breathe easy anymore, because mom's hand started stroking me again.

She kept talking to one or two other people over on her right side, but her hand was definitely kneading my dick now. That wasn't just an accidental or coincidental touch last time. She was stroking and squeezing it through the fabric of my pants, and I felt it jolt and jerk as her fingers touched it in sensitive places.

I tried to act cool by eating some food off my plate, but it was getting more and more difficult to focus. I was desperately hoping nobody around us noticed what was happening. Suddenly, I heard a voice next to me:

"Another drink, Sir?"

Startled, I stuttered for a few seconds, trying desperately not to blush too much.

"Y-yes... th-thank you. Uh... some bottles of... yeah, thanks..." I said as the server was already replacing the empty bottles on the table with fresh ones.

In my lap, mom's hand was still stroking me. She was talking to someone else, but didn't take her hand off me for a second.

"These... sausages are really good." I told the girl serving me just as she was leaving.

"Thank you, Sir, I'll pass that on to the cook - I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear that."

She went about her business and I started stuffing my mouth with food to avoid having to talk to anyone. Seconds later, I heard another voice, this time from my right:

"I love sausage too... In fact, I sure wouldn't mind a bit of sausage in my mouth right now..."

She wasn't even whispering that time. I swallowed again, trying to get rid of that lump in my throat that made it hard to even get the food down. Without thinking, I put my fork through a sausage on my plate and held it up to her.

"You can have one of mine if you want."

"Mmmm... thanks..." she replied, leaning in and taking it in her mouth.

Just as I looked over at her, she winked and sucked it right off the fork. I swallowed heavily.

"Yummy. I was right. I sure liked having that sausage in my mouth."

"I'm sure the sausage liked being in your mouth too."

Mom winked at me again, flirting with her own son right there in front of everybody. I looked around nervously. It didn't look like anybody had noticed anything; people were all talking back and forth between each other, not really paying any attention to me unless I talked to them.

Mom's hand was still stroking my cock, which was standing hard as a rock by now. Pushing and straining up against the fabric of my trousers, it was begging to be set free, throbbing and jolting as my mom touched it under the table. She kept turning to her right to converse with people over there too, then turning back to me every few minutes or so.