Chapter 4309 - PLAYING THE PART

A special thanks to ChiefHal for helping to proofread and ensuring the story is in good shape.

Playing the part

"Trey, I need you now!" the female voice spoke from my phone.

I was tired, and it was late, but the tone of my mom's voice brooked no fobbing her off.

"What's up?" I asked, as I looked into the large mirror of the dressing room. A tired looking costume lady was sorting through discarded clothing, from the other actors, in a hurry to go home.

With luck, mom had fucked up something on her laptop again, and I could fix it over the phone.

"I can't really talk now. But it's urgent you come and get me." She blurted out an address, and I groaned. It was a good hour's drive away.

"How urgent?"

"Code Red." I blinked in surprise. "Look, I need my handsome and brave boy to stand up for me. But you'll have to be broad-minded."

"Why?" I was confused. The 'Code Red' was something we'd come up with, when I was a teenager.

If I called with a 'Code Red', she'd come and get me no questions asked. If I was somewhere that I felt threatened or pressured to do something I didn't want. I'd never needed it, and I knew the 'no questions asked' would not be true. But it signified something serious and a shorthand between us. I'd never expected her to use it on me.

"Where are you now?" She asked.

"I've literally just walked off set. I've not even had a chance to pee or change."

"Don't change. Your current role is perfect for this. Bring the mask and hide your phone. But use that fancy earpiece. I promise you; it really is important. Oh, and if you're stopped, tell them you are there to bowl with Barnabas." She hung up, knowing I'd do what she asked.

But what the hell was going on? Was she trying to make it a mystery?

She'd been a single mom at 19, and made it her mission in life, to do the best for me. And even though I am 30 now, I still felt I owed her for all her selflessness to raise me. It might have been a somewhat unusual upbringing, but it had helped me, to where I was today. An actor, stuntman and body-double.

Checking I still had the character's mask in my pocket, I grabbed the earpiece she'd mentioned and my keys and headed to the car. Not even pausing for that pee I needed. It was after 11 pm, but there was always traffic and I pushed it a little to get to her. A patrol car appeared in my rear-view mirror, and I swore as its sirens and lights flicked on. But it sped up and rushed past me.

The address was in a very high-end part of the city, with homes in the $10 million plus bracket. But my mom was a fancy lawyer and would know clients with that sort of money. Then I remembered my mom's request for the mask, earpiece, and to hide my phone, and smiled. If she wanted 'cloak and dagger', then I was her man. Especially as I was currently filming a spy movie, if only as a stuntman and body-double.

I swapped my phone in the dashboard cradle with the prop one in my pocket. Turned on the earpieces and slipped them into my ears and waited for them to pair with my phone. Because I often had to wear ear protection, on set, for gunfire or explosions. We'd talked a studio into paying a small fortune for tiny Bluetooth earpieces, hardly bigger than a pair of peas. It would never be made commercially. One ear listened, and the other was a microphone. Each would cancel background noise. But I could get vocal prompts for things that might be unseen or added in post-production. They both beeped twice at me, to prove they were working. But had a battery life of less than 60 minutes.

Slipping my phone into a concealed pocket in the suit at the small of my back. I saw two large security men at the gates of one of the largest houses and remembered, at the last moment, to slip on the mask.

A twinge of worry crossed my mind, that I might get Arthur into trouble, if this was something dodgy.

I should explain a little history and why Arthur might be affected by my actions. My mom grew up with doting parents that instilled in her, she could be anything she put her mind to. Which isn't always a good idea. She wanted to be famous. Didn't really care if she was a pop star, a movie star, or just a plain old TV star.

As a kid, she took acting lessons and singing and dancing lessons. And I've seen the old videos that showed she was quite good. But quite good doesn't take you over the finishing line. At 18, she met a talent agent; that told her he could make her a star, in return for some payback. I think that 'casting couch' summed it up better, than going into the seedy details. She is my mom, after all.

She got pregnant with me, and he threw some money at her, to make the problem go away. I think he underestimated her, as she could come across as some gorgeous airhead, with nothing between her ears. She's not, in fact, she took the money and, with help to raise me from her parents, put herself through law school.

She freely admitted, at the time, she intended to sue my dad. And that was a way to avoid massive lawyer bills. Plus, the bonus of proving him wrong about her. But by the time she passed the bar, she discovered not only a love for the job, but a real talent for it. Her looks and men's assumption she was a bimbo, won her many cases, before her opposition wised up. While she'd given up on her dreams of being a star, it didn't mean she didn't push them on to me.

My upbringing was anything but conventional or boring. Few 8-year-olds had a party where they were the entertainment. It was slack rope walking and juggling flaming clubs. Although I remember wanting to show off popping balloons, with my knife throwing skills, my grandparents stepped in. And said the other kids might try to copy me and hurt someone.

As with the truly dedicated, my mom would work a full day in the office, then come home. And spend 6 or 7 hours teaching me just about every skill that might come in useful. Acting and singing, obviously, but martial arts, horseback riding, stunt motorcycles and so on. While my school friends talked about slobbing out after school, and watching TV all night. The only TV I watched, was to aid in my acting skills.

Because it was all I knew, I didn't know it was unusual until much later in life. I had personal trainers and dietitians, by the time I turned 16 and that helped, when mom finally let me play regular sports. From time to time, I'd walk into a room to see mom and one of them giving off a vibe that something was going on.

When I confronted her, she admitted to sleeping with both men occasionally. Pointing out that she spent so much time with work and looking after me, she had no time for conventional dating. I let the matter drop and avoided asking if she meant she'd slept with both, or both at the same time.

The only time we had any serious friction between the two of us was when I was 18 and she pulled me from sports. Wanting me to start another series of special skill training. My coach said I had plenty of talent, and could make a career from sport. She put her foot down and pointed out the odds were poor that I'd make it, and my career would only be 15 years at best. Some jocks never get as far as professional, as the injury rate was alarming.

As an actor, I could have a career for 40 years or more. All of which was true, but it rankled me, that she controlled so much of my life. As an 18-year-old, it's hard for introspection; to see how much she'd given up for me. But she won me around, when she realised she'd neglected one aspect of teaching me.

Each time I started something new, like parkour. I'd hit it like an express train. Concentrating on it with complete focus, until I was proficient and enjoying it. Then she'd push me into something else. Which meant my social skills around making new friends were poor actually, nearly non-existent around girls.

It was a painfully awkward conversation when mom sat me down for dating tips and general advice. In the end, the first girl I asked out, I only managed it, by pretending it was acting. It worked, and we dated. But I let it go to my head, and I fucked up and lost her. I might have simply gone on to the next girl... and so on. After all, I was handsome, and super fit; which, I'll freely admit now, made me a little cocky.

But mom knew better again, she forced me to approach the girl who'd dumped me, and apologise to her. Unfortunately, it was in front of half the school. I had to admit it was my fault, and I was immature, etc. All true, but hard to say. Afterwards, with prompting from her friend, she asked if I thought that was enough to bring her around to date her again. Mom had predicted this, and I told her that was not my intention. Simply to clear the air and to hope she found a better boyfriend than me next time.

I must admit it was my biggest audience for my acting, to date. But I appeared sincere, because it was. Method acting, I suppose.

I went on to an acting school, where my tutor said that he'd never seen a skill list like mine. If I really could do all that, it would be amazing. It was a little insulting, but I suppose lots of people pad their skill list. He also commented in private that it might have been better to have spent more time on my acting over the other stuff.

I wasn't bad, but when Arthur joined the class the following year, I suddenly saw my deficiencies. And to make matters worse, he looked like my kid brother. We might have been carbon copies; except I was more muscled. I wanted to hate him, but he was so charming. Hell, he could walk into a room and smile, and nuns would wish to throw their underwear at him.

It was a little weird at first, but we became close friends and that led to wild adventures. Often with the ladies.

His dad had been a big screen actor and so had his mom. His stepmom was a retired supermodel, and I wondered how he coped with her around the house, in nothing but a string bikini. I only knew that because a few months after Arthur joined the class, he invited me to meet his parents.

I thought it was just to meet the guy their son was hanging out with, but I was wrong. I'd come to terms that I'd never be the actor he was, and with him going to be a big star. I'd need to change my looks entirely to even get small jobs.

However, his dad had other plans for me. After a great meal, with the hostess mom wearing very little and trying to tempt me with booze, cigars, and some milder narcotics. All of which I turned down, Arthur's dad finally got down to business.

He'd put a lot of time, effort, and money into his son's career. Lining up favours to get him into the big time quickly. And I could be a very useful part of that plan. He'd checked me out and, unlike our tutor, knew that all the skills I'd claimed on my resume were genuine. It was a bitter pill to swallow, when he came out and explained my chances of making it as purely an actor, were slim.

His olive branch was to work for him and partner Arthur's career. I'd be his body-double, stuntman and bodyguard when he was rich and famous. I'd hang out with the stars, but never quite be one myself. He'd pay me from his own pocket and see to insurance and whatever added training I wanted. I'd help his son bulk up some and we'd be sold as a package.

Studios hated trying to find people that were similar enough to the stars for stand-ins or stuntmen. But wouldn't invest into this type of arrangement. Arthur's dad would, as he knew his son had a gilded career coming. We knew each other, and I could already mirror his posture and body language. If we worked and trained together, we could save studios millions in training time, and postproduction CGI, to fix things. Of course, some of those millions would come to us as a premium package.

It sounded good, but persuading mom was hard. She had her heart set on one thing, and this wasn't it. But when I took her on the red carpet at my first big Hollywood film, she admitted it was close enough.

Which brought me back to the guards at the gate of the mansion. Too many publicity shots of Arthur in the mask and suit circulated that I doubted the guards wouldn't take me for him. That was my job, after all. I pulled up and got out of the car. A valet rushed over, and I handed him the keys.

I saw the guards recognised me, or Arthur, but asked why I was there.

"Bowling with Barnabus." I replied, and they relaxed.

They asked if I had a phone, and I gestured to the dashboard of the car as the valet started the engine. The fake phone was in place, so they never frisked me, but opened the gate for me.

Inside the mansion, a scantily clad waitress handed me a glass of champagne. She gave me a look, that suggested she was open to offering me whatever I wanted. If I'd just give her the nod. The entrance hall was large and elaborate, gaudy to my eyes, but different people have different tastes.

Two dancing girls were writhing around each other on a low podium, and nobody seemed to care, that they wore enough clothing, for only one person. One tiny person, like a pixie. I walked casually past them, and gave them a nod in recognition of their work. Which was a mistake, as one's expression changed in recognition of me. Damn.

The next room was darker and had a bar and booths. More suited to a nightclub, than a home. A pole stood in the middle of an unused dance floor, and I noticed couples kissing. Then I did a double take at what I saw. A mature man was kissing a much younger girl. She looked like she was dressed as the dancer from the dance floor. Not that unusual in Hollywood, you might say. But he had her top up to her chin and was groping her naked breasts, in front of anyone who cared to watch.

I'm not a prude, but it caught me a little off guard. Which was only worsened when I realised, I could see a woman kneeling partially under the table and she appeared to have her hand up the younger girl's skirt. As I walked past the booth, I saw she had the skirt pulled up and was alternating, between fingering the girl, and licking her pussy.

What sort of party had I walked in on, and what the heck was my mom doing here? Did she know?

I downed my drink, put down my glass, and headed to the toilets. Inside one cubicle was a couple, obviously in the middle of fucking. So, I dialled my mom's phone and slipped the phone into the regular pocket of my jacket. I peed, as the phone took a few moments to be answered.

"Am I at the right place? I just saw an old couple groping a young woman."

"Sorry, I should have warned you. Where are you now?"

"In the toilet next to the room with the pole on the dance floor."

"Which one? There is more than one."

"Next to the entrance lobby."

"OK, work your way to the back of the house and look for the Hawaiian room. That's where I am. I'm wearing a playboy bunny costume. Kinda..."

"Care to tell me what's going on?"

"I promise to tell you everything later. But get here ASAP, or I'm in serious trouble." She hung up, and I swore, zipped up, and left the room.

I followed the corridors and noticed several rooms where the sounds of sex, or spanking, revealed what the dim interiors held.

What the hell was my mom doing here? Had she come unknowing and panicked and was hiding out, to avoid seeing what was going on? A shiver went down my spine, at the thought she'd take part. I'm not unaware that even at 50, my mom was hot. I had eyes and wasn't naïve enough to think she didn't have some sort of sexual side, but this was beyond what my head space could fit.

After my career took off and I got my own place, we kept in touch, and I'd visit her place once or twice a month, provided I was in town. And there was never any sign of a man in her life. I'd once teased her about this, and she countered by saying it might be another woman. That took the wind out of my sails and made me vow not to tease her about her love life again.

I spotted the Hawaiian room, but as I approached, I saw a mature woman kneeling in front of a guy 20 years her junior. He had a smug look on his face as she was sucking his dick right there in the corridor. My dick twitched.

Not that I found her attractive, but my shooting schedule, and training, had left me no time or energy to spare for one of my occasional bed mates.

Then I spotted mom a moment before she turned to see me. I could now see, why she said her bunny costume was only kind of. Shiny black high heels, fishnet stockings, a pair of bunny ears in her hair, but it was the body of the costume that took my breath away. If you could overlook how low cut the top was, and how huge her cleavage appeared, or just how high cut the legs were. It was that it was made of skin tight PVC, very shiny, and tight.

I know, I said it was tight twice, but I felt it was worth repeating. As a kid, I grew up and saw her in bikinis, many times. But it was just my mom. By the time I turned into a teenager, and horny for girls, she opted for more clothing. Now I was looking at her as a grown man, and the loving son part of my brain seemed unable to filter out her sexiness.

I had to admit she looked better at 50 than I could ever have imagined. She was curvy in all the right places. Damn, if it wasn't my mom, I certainly would have welcomed her into my bed. OK, that made me feel weird, but her smile as she spotted me...threw that train of thought away.

She gestured me over urgently, then threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. Only it wasn't a 'mom and son' kiss. But that of long-lost lovers, on the lips, with her body crushed up against me. Shocked and confused, I reacted on an ingrained response. I gripped her hips and kissed her back; for about a second. Then my brain caught up with what we were doing.

I broke the kiss, but she clung to me and with her high heels, her mouth was close to my ear.

"Sorry Trey, but I really need to make the others think you're my husband. Or at least my lover."

"Excuse me?" I whispered back.

"Grab my bum." My hands seemed less reluctant than my brain, as they slipped from her hips to her backside.

I'd always had a bit of a thing about shiny PVC. Not a real kink, but still it was sexy.

"Like you mean it." She added and squeezed me tighter. "It's important."

She turned us around so her back was to the room, and I wondered why, as the other people in the room would see my hands on her bum. But that seemed to be her goal.

"Are you going to explain why?" I asked, and she nodded, then gave me a look that I should play along.

Struggling to understand why, but trusting her implicitly, my hand gripped her ass more fully. Half my hands rested on the PVC, but the rest were directly on her flesh. Flesh that was certainly not, in the 'mom/son' safe zone. But if she wanted me to do it for some reason, I did. Holding her bum firmly and squeezing it. Groping my mom's ass at a party, was not how I expected my day to go.

Two hours ago, I was shooting bad guys in the head and now I was wondering if I'd been shot in the head myself. And this was how my brain was dealing with dying. Had I had a 'mom' fantasy all this time? Nope, I was sure I'd not.

Mom was writhing against me and kissing my neck and nibbling at my ear. I knew she was projecting this act, for some reason that I didn't understand yet. But my body could not tell the difference.

"See the guys near the door?" She whispered.

I nodded, assured that the mask over my eyes would rob them of the ability to tell where I was looking. She turned us a little.

"And the 2 more next to the piano?"

Again, I spotted two more men paying a lot of attention to mom. Which made sense, except I got a predatory feeling from their looks and posture. Almost like they were trying to decide, if they wanted to interrupt mom and me.

"You've already figured out this is not a regular wine and canapes party, right?"Seeing an old couple groping that dancer, and the older woman sucking a dick just outside this door. Kinda gave that away. So why are you here?"

"We'll get to that, I promise. Push your hands under the back of my costume."

"Mom?" I asked in shock.

She pinched my ear hard. Just like when I was a kid and misbehaved.

"Less of the mom. I'm Laura OK? And just do what I tell you."

The tone of voice cut through my reluctance, and decades of compliance to that tone made my hands move again. Her buttocks were warm and soft. Just toned enough, while still decidedly feminine.

I tried to think of this as method acting, something for the part. But the warm damp heat that seemed to rise from her crotch, was making it hard to think straight. I tried to persuade myself it was just the heat from inside the PVC. But I couldn't sell that to myself. My fingers were low enough, that I knew exactly where that heat and dampness was coming from.

Fuck! I'd tried to avoid thinking about my mom's sex life. And here I was, somehow connected to it, in a way I still didn't understand. Her rubbing up against me, as I groped her ass, was seriously messing with my higher brain function.

When my fingertips inadvertently pressed deeper, and touched her anus, thanks to her moving around. She kissed me hard on the lips. Either mom was a way better actor than I was, or she was enjoying this a hell of a lot. Either way, she shuddered and broke our embrace and spun around, pulling my arms around her waist. Then pushing my hands up over her breasts. I tried to resist and could have, easily, if she'd not whispered a pleading 'please'.

So, I let my hands hover over her breasts, touching them only ever so slightly. Forcing my mind to say it was acting. I'd done love scenes with actresses and at least mom was still dressed. And with luck, the PVC between us was thick enough, so she'd not really feel it.

Of course, that's assuming her ass hadn't already noticed the considerable erection pushing up against it.

"Sorry mom." She pinched my thigh. "Sorry Laura. For that..." I didn't need to elaborate what I was talking about.

"Given I've just forced you to grope my ass, and now my tits. I can make allowances. Although getting that hard considering I'm your 'M'. That's a little awkward."

"You forget how hot you are dressed like that. And I've not been with a woman for a while."

"So, it's not me?" Was she teasing me, at a moment like this?

"No, it's all you. But it's hard to admit that to you. As you're my..." I sighed and asked her to explain again.

"The four guys have been hassling me and trying to get me to go with them. Promising to show me a good time with them all together. I'm not against having more than one lover at the same time, but four is too much. And I seriously doubt if they intend it to be good for me, if you get my drift."

My hands formed into fists, until mom gasped.

"Steady on lover; I'm attached to those."

I looked down to see I was gripping her breasts hard. I was about to snatch my hands back, but mom was quicker. Her hands clamped down on mine.

"I don't mind if you're a little rough," she said, and I realised she'd said it, just loud enough for the others to hear.

She spun around again and took my hand and guided me to a dim corner and pushed me onto a chair, then sat across my lap sideways. On reflex, my arm went around her back to grip her hip, to stop her slipping off.

Mom smiled, which short-circuited my brain, as that was such a familiar thing. And the alien thing, was watching her push my other hand onto her thigh. So, my fingertips rested between them mid-way from knee to crotch. As with her bum, the flesh was soft and smooth and hinted at an athletic toning that promised more.

She twisted her upper body towards me, hiding our faces from the four watching men. In my mind, I was running through the fight moves I'd use to take them all out. With maximum violence in the shortest possible time. Just because I was a trained stuntman didn't make my skills any less dangerous.

"Move your hand higher."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, just make it look like you're caressing my thighs and going higher each time. I'll tell you when to stop."

A stray thought passed through my mind, and I snatched at it for the sake of sanity. Think of this as an audition. An audition for some intense movie that required me to do all this. I'd done auditions like that, where the director wanted to test the actors. Ensuring they could do what was needed on set. A scene where an actress might need to strip and fellate her co-star or pretend to. Or something like this. Simulated foreplay, which was just on the edge of simulation for realism.

She was moving her face close to mine as she showered me with kisses, and I sold it by moving mine in time. Our lips touched, and she stopped.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to sell it."

She bit her lower lip, then touched her lips to mine. Just barely and moved her head more slowly. I was only a fraction behind her as I followed her lead. In moments, we had a pattern, and I felt her press against me a little harder. Her tongue touched my lips, and I lost focus on my hand between her legs.

With the back of her head to our audience. Why was she kissing me like that?

Shit! Neither of us were paying attention to my hand, until my fingertip met the PVC clad crotch. I froze and was about to snatch my hand away, when hers landed heavily on mine.

"Leave it there. I'm gonna make it look like you're rubbing me."

She straightened up, and I looked down to see her open her legs a bit. Then lay her palm flat over my hand underneath. With a low rhythmical movement, she bent and straightened her fingers. Causing her palm to rise and fall. Almost as if my hand underneath was causing it, as I rubbed her pussy through her clothing.

It looked so realistic, but the downside was each time she flattened her hand, it pressed against mine and caused my fingertip to rub over her crotch some. She kissed me again and twisted sideways. To ensure any watchers could see our tongues battling each other.

She broke the kiss and giggled, as she pushed her hip against my erection.

"Sorry." I whispered.

"Method acting or..." She let out a gasp and a shiver. "Push your fingers deeper..."

Now my mind interpreted that as 'inside her', and after a moment she seemed to realise and corrected herself. "I meant lower. You're right over my clit there and I'm sure you don't want mom to cum on your lap like that?"

I pushed my fingers lower between her thighs and I knew they were right at her opening. I tried and failed to blank that out, as she simulated more masturbation above my hand. Then faked an orgasm.

I whispered in her ear. "7 out of 10. A little too much overacting at the end."

She pouted. "And you're such an expert on women's orgasm?"

I grinned and projected all the charm I'd learned from Arthur into it. Mom blinked and actually seemed to flush. I glanced at the room behind her.

"Two guys have left, and the other two look like they might give up. Want to explain now?" I asked.

"Fine, but it's a long story, and I'll just cover the reason I needed you urgently, after I fucked up so badly. OK?"

"I suppose, but I insist on knowing the rest of it later."

"Fair, I suppose. Did you notice the tattoos on the wrist of the others here?"

I shook my head and looked down at mom's right wrist. A couple of inches above where her work blouses would usually cover was an elaborate tattoo of a red rose. It was beautifully done and new.

"I had that done about a month ago and never considered the consequences at the time."

"Why?"

"OK, when you get here, each guest is given the choice of temporary tattoos."

"I wasn't offered one."

"Presumably because you came late. Or they thought you were Arthur, and you'd want to see the lay of the land. If you don't have any tattoos, it signals that you're an observer only. The lowest level tattoo is a snowdrop. That means you'll accept kisses and light touching over your clothing."

"And a red rose means?"

"Anything."

"Anything?"

"Yeah, which is why I've only ever seen one true guest woman with a rose."

"True guest?" I interrupted. Her explanation seemed to be making me more confused.

"Haven't you noticed the age demographic here?"

"To be honest, I was trying not to look too hard. Why?"

"Almost all the true guests are my age or older. Everyone in their early 20s is hired for the night to help the party. Hookers, porn stars, models or actors who need a little extra cash."

"And what happened to the woman with the rose?"

"Five guys and they were rough. It was a little scary. But afterwards she said she was glad she'd done it, but never again."

"Couldn't you stop them or call for help?"

Mom looked at me like I'd just failed a test.

"This is the sort of place where people live out their fantasies. If I was reluctant, it would be assumed I was playing a role. When you apply the tattoo, that is your show of consent. Do you think we can get out of here without bumping into them? I could hide the tattoo against my stomach?"

I helped her up, then drew the crisp handkerchief from my top jacket pocket with a flourish and went down on one knee. Taking mom's hand, I quickly wrapped it around her wrist and tied it off in a bow. Hiding the tattoo. Looking up, I was shocked to see mom had her other hand over her mouth, and a tear in her eye. I frowned.

"Sorry, I'm being silly. But that's the closest thing I've ever had to a proposal, thanks."

I stood and gave mom a regular kiss on the cheek and held my arm out for her to hook hers through mine. As we walked slowly back through the house. Trying to avoid staring at the various sex acts in and around the rooms we passed. The mature lady who had been sucking the guy off now sat on the edge of a table. The young man was sucking on her tits and fingering her at 90 miles an hour.

"So what tattoo were you going to use and why didn't you?" I asked.

"I chose my tattoo, and I'm sure you don't want to know which I chose." I nodded, but I would ask about it again later.

Not that I really wanted to know, but if mom was into some weird and potentially dangerous lifestyle, knowing would be better than not. Given what we'd just done, I couldn't figure out how to fix it, if I didn't know what was wrong. To me, it made no sense for someone as attractive and charming as mom, to need a place like this. There must be something underlying it I didn't understand.

"Anyway, I was still in my coat when I selected the temporary tattoo. When I took it off, one of those guys spotted the red rose on my wrist and his eyes lit up. Obviously assuming that was my choice. I quickly covered my tattoo and tried to figure out how to hide it and show the temporary tattoo only.

"But I also had to avoid the guy while I figured it out. I covered the tattoo and managed to talk to a few other true guests I knew, and he lingered in the background. Knowing if he interrupted, he might be kicked out. Anyway, I got away, but he'd found a buddy. That was when I called you."

"Where is your phone?"

Mom smirked and reached into her cleavage and retrieved her small ancient clamshell phone from between her tits. I laughed, and she joined me.

"With tits like mine, I could probably smuggle a ham down there," she chuckled!

I noticed one of the men in a side-room. But he was distracted by watching a tiny blonde being spanked while a piston machine fucked her ass and pussy at the same time. The temptation to sucker punch him from behind was intense. But that would leave mom alone, and might cause Arthur an issue.

We retrieved a white leather ankle-length coat, and she rested it over her shoulders and tied the belt loosely. In the car she was silent as I swore silently. It was late, and it was at least 90 minutes to get to her place, and close almost that again to mine.

"Mom, can you check my shooting schedule for tomorrow?" I handed over my phone, and she managed to find it and confirmed I wasn't needed at work until 2 pm. But I'd be there until midnight at the earliest.

She cracked open the window to let in the cool night air, and I realised it was just an excuse to avoid talking over the outside noise. If she didn't want to talk, I could wait.

As we pulled up outside her place, I had a flash of nostalgia over the house. I'd lived there with her for 12 years, and had fond memories. But as we walked inside, I saw that she'd changed the living room furniture again. As she hung up her coat and I hung up my jacket, she saw me examining the new furniture.

"It's leased." She explained. "After one of my 50th birthday parties, that rug was ruined..." I nodded.

I'd organised a 'surprise' party for her. It was only a partial surprise, as I had to ask her who she wanted as guests. Catering and entertainment at her place, as it meant she didn't need to arrange transport. One of my friends had been trying to show off for my mom's best friend Sara, and he dropped an expensive bottle of red wine. It smashed on the rug, and despite the caterers cleaning up the mess right away, it was ruined.

I promised to replace it, but mom said she wanted to redo the whole room.

"I talked to a friend who was a wannabe interior designer, and she talked me into leasing the furniture at a discount. Provided I change it every 6 weeks and let her photograph the new layout. Pads her resume and gives me something new.

"Although I'm not sure about this choice. It's a bit too minimalist for my tastes."

I nodded. The living room was large and had only a sofa, two chairs facing each other and nothing else.

"Wine please?"

She asked, and I slipped off my shoes and padded through to the kitchen, in my socks. The house had hardwood flooring throughout, and it was just a thing I'd always done. Selecting her favourite wine from the chiller, finding the bottle opener, and opening it. Before returning to the living room, with the bottle and two glasses.

I poured the wine and handed a glass to her. She thanked me and sat in the chair. I took the other one and agreed mom was right about the furniture. The arms and the back of the chair were low, and the seat excessively deep. Meaning that to sit in them, meant you were nearly horizontal laying back.

The only plus side, was the end of each arm was a small wooden plate, which allowed me to place my glass and bottle down. Mom was in the same reclined position. I sipped the wine, then remembered I'd not eaten or drunk anything since breakfast. Yesterday. Without meaning to, I gulped the entire glass down in a moment.

"I assume you want to crash here tonight. Your room is set up, as always."

I nodded and smiled. Mom was a stickler about drinking and driving. My room was still decorated with my late teenage posters and junk. A thought occurred as I refilled my glass.

"How did you get to the party? Come to that, how did you come to go in the first place?"

Mom sighed, sipped her wine, and seemed to accept I was owed more of an explanation than she'd given me so far.

"It's a long story." She said and reached over the side of her chair, and I heard a scrape on the floor and grinned at what I saw.

Entirely out of context with the other furniture were a pair of low footstools. The grin was because I'd made them when I was about 10. Two sheep made of wood about 12 inches head to tail and about 8 inches tall. The backs were padded and covered in fake sheepskin. They were pretty basic, but mom loved them and had kept and used them for over 20 years.

She placed one foot on each sheep, and the childhood memories drained from my mind, at the sight of my mom's inner thighs. And the hint of PVC at her crotch. The memory that I'd had my fingers rubbing that area, not too long ago, was hard to push aside. I'd not had feminine relief for far too long. Tomorrow or the next day I'd phone a friend and arrange a hookup.

"I suppose it started with Sara after her divorce 3 years ago."

Mom's talking drew my mind back to her story and away from thinking about which friend I would call.

"As you know she was married to a very domineering man for over 20 years. She admitted to me how hard she was finding it, being single and struggling, to get into the dating scene again. The one thing she could rely on with her husband, was regular, if boring, sex."

I smiled thinking about Sara. She lived 4 houses away and worked at the same legal firm as my mom. She was probably the first woman I'd thought about sexually. Not that anything ever happened, but I think she knew I was attracted to her growing up.

"But we were in a bar, Sara and I were drunk. She was a little too loud and when I went to powder my nose. I came back to find an older lady chatting to Sara. As I moved to sit, Sara asked me for my card and handed both to the woman. After the other woman left, Sara looked like she'd just heard the funniest thing. The woman had overheard us and said she had a solution, if we were broad-minded."

"From what I saw, she wasn't wrong." I quipped, but Mom ignored me.

"A couple of weeks later she and I were invited to lunch at a very fancy restaurant, and we were guided into a private dining room. Our unknown host was in his 70s and had the health and robustness of a very wealthy man, determined to enjoy his wealth as long as possible. Next to him was a lawyer. After all this time, I can practically sniff them out."

She sipped her wine and seemed to relax for the first time that night. I suppose it took a while for the worry to bleed off.

"They asked us to sign a standard boilerplate NDA. Although I struggled to think of any enforcement without a contract between us. The elderly man explained that the woman who had talked to us, had spoken to him about us. He hosted events about 4 times a year for a close group of friends.

"From time to time, to keep things fresh he looked for new people to join their group. I'll admit, from the context, it sounded like an old fogies orgy. The lawyer handed us a document with conditions for attending the events. The list just confirmed it in my mind. I always look at lists like that from the bottom and when the last two items spoke about birth control being our responsibility. And STD tests were needed, but worked on the honour system."

"What did Sara think?"

"She got distracted when the lawyer handed over a stack of photographs. Starting with aerial photographs of the mansion and grounds you rescued me from. Easily more than $100 million."

I whistled low. That was a lot more than I'd guessed.

"Anyway, photos also showed people at a party. At first glance they looked pretty normal, except the more mature people, had their faces blurred out. Some of the younger ones were in swimwear in the background playing in the pool. I noticed a topless girl kissing one of the older men. Anyway, it hinted at stuff, without being too explicit.

"The old man explained they were fantasy events, and we could observe or take part. And invited us to the next one in 2 weeks. The lawyer handed us his business cards, and the pair left us. The old man explained we could order whatever we wanted, as it was paid for.

"After they had gone, Sara and I had an amazing meal, smattered with jokes about 'Eyes wide shut'. Anyway, I thought that was the end, but a few days later Sara came to me and told me she wanted to go. Which came as quite a shock; but, as she pointed out she'd never had the chance to do anything risky and exciting. And the guy had said we could just watch."

She sipped more wine, and I topped up our glasses again.

"Now you know I'm not a prude..." I smiled and looked suggestively at her costume, and waggled my eyebrows. "I was thinking about my other 50th party." She gave me a knowing smile.nodded, then realised I was drinking too quickly, and told her I was getting a glass of water.

Her alternate birthday party opened my eyes about some of mom's friends...and her! I'd called Arthur's stepmom, as over the years, his parents and mom had become friendly. I wanted a surprise party for mom, but knew she'd expect something, hence the party at her home. Naomi loved to organise things like parties and told me she'd organise everything. I just had to tell her how many guests. I told her only 20.

What I got was far more than I could have ever imagined! I told mom I'd hired a restaurant for a private function. But told her friends to pack an overnight bag and expected to be gone from Friday evening and return home on Sunday night. We got a minibus to a rundown restaurant out in the sticks and seeing the look of disappointment on mom's face was priceless. Then I led everyone around the side of the building to see 3 gleaming stretch limos.

They whisked us away to a small airport and drove right up to a private jet. Naomi had pulled a lot of strings for mom. Nobody, but me, knew where we were going, and mom applied a lot of pressure to get me to spill. The flight was over 4 hours, and everyone was flagging until they saw road signs from the next set of limos, saying Florida Keys.

We ended up at a bar that reminded me of the bar from the 'Finder' TV show. Now obviously I could have done that closer to home. But the destination was for the person hired to entertain us. Mom loved a particular singer/songwriter from the 70s and early 80s. But never had the chance to see him in concert. He'd retired, leaving only a few CDs of his music as his legacy.

Arthur's dad had talked the guy into a special performance for mom. When she saw him, she burst into tears and hugged me so hard, I thought she'd crack my ribs. Despite nearing 70 years of age, he was still great and sang directly to my mom. After he finished, he went to the bar's office to pack up, and mom went to thank him personally.

After 20 minutes with no sign of mom, I went to look for her. Only to find Sara outside the office door and ensuring nobody walked in on mom and the singer. Sara was pretty drunk and grinned, then held up a finger for silence. Then cracked open the door, so I could peek inside.

What I saw was quite a shock. The old guy was in a chair with his eyes closed. Mom was in front of him, kneeling, and the regular bobbing of her head told me she wasn't bobbing for apples. Sara shut the door and I tried to push the image from my head.

She whispered mom had told her she'd waited over 30 years, for the chance to do that. When mom came back with a glow on her face, it was hard not to see her in a new light.

When the party wound down, the bar owner guided us to a field full of mini airstream campers. Everyone was pretty drunk and piled into the campers. I took one close to the bar but struggled to sleep. It was hot and humid with no AC. And my mind kept flicking back to the image of the back of mom's head as she sucked her favourite musician.

Without meaning to, I got hard. I was so used to seeing her as a mom and not a woman, it was difficult to reconcile the two. In the abstract, I knew she was sexually active at times. But seeing her doing it, brought it home to me. Listening to some of mom's friends drunkenly sneaking into each other's campers wasn't helping either.

Back in the now, I poured a pint of water into a glass, and swallowed a mouthful, before returning to mom in the living room. After sitting, I gestured for mom to continue with her story.

"We arrived at the mansion to be greeted by the woman who had approached us in the bar. She explained the rules again, and about the tattoos. Snowdrop, buttercup and so on."

"What did the buttercup mean?"

"OK, the snowdrop meant you'd allow kissing and light touching over the clothing."

"You'd allow it?"

"It's part of the thing. You cannot refuse either male or female attention, but you can walk away after a few moments. It's impolite to try again if that happens. Anyway, buttercup is the snowdrop, but with touching under the clothing. Without penetration."

Mom looked at me to see my reaction, but I hid it behind my glass of wine.

"And what type of tattoo did the woman have?"

"A cluster of fuchsias. And as I know you're about to ask about that. I'll explain. A single fuchsia means that you're open to receiving oral sex. A cluster means you're open to receiving and giving. Anyway, she guided us around the party, and it was bizarre, listening to her talking like a grandmother, as we saw so much skin.

"She'd first come to the parties about 10 years previously, when her second husband passed away. She'd been in a similar position as Sara, only she knew every man who dated her, would be looking at her deceased husband's fortune. So, the parties gave her an outlet without that worry. Then 3 years ago she'd met another true guest, and they had spent the entire night just talking.

"They agreed to meet in a more regular dating arrangement, fell in love and married. However, neither were spring chickens and enjoyed the parties. So, they agreed to continue going, as long as they told the other what they had done. He would be frisky for weeks after every party. She only showed us the things in the first few rooms at the party, then sat and said she needed a rest.

"Sara wanted to see more, but I'd thought I'd seen enough for one night. So, she walked off alone. After a minute a couple walked up to the older woman and asked if she wanted anything. He was dressed in only a loin cloth with a golden sheen to his skin and she was petite, wearing only a thong and angel wings. The mature woman smiled at me and asked me to excuse her.

"The young woman grinned and dropped to her knees. Lifted the ladies dress up to her waist and latched her mouth over the woman's pussy. Then the woman hooked her fingers into his loin cloth and extracted his semi hard dick. Now I'm not a prude, as you saw in Florida..."

"Wha..." I exclaimed.

"Come off it. You weren't the only one Sara opened that office door for. She found it disproportionately exciting, that my son saw me sucking off my favourite singer."

"Wow!" Was the best I could manage.

"Yeah, Sara has been a lot wilder than you'd think, over the last few years. I should know."

"From the parties, right?" I asked.

"From the parties, and a few times we've partied together."

My mind jumped to a conclusion, that my rational brain rejected. Until mom made a V with her fingers and stuck her tongue through it. Then giggled, as I blushed.

"Anyway, watching the trio made me a little uncomfortable at the time. Especially as the girl between her legs was rubbing my legs as if I would be next. Luckily, I saw a blushing Sara hurrying back, and she gawked at our guide before dragging me to the door. She wouldn't tell me exactly what she'd seen. However, 3 months later insisted that we not only went again but wear a tattoo."

"Wow. I would never have thought of that from Sara."

"Gives you a whole new perspective on her, if you still fancy her."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, come off it. I knew you had a thing for her when you were a teenager. You would look at her like a lost puppy, then leave the room if she talked to you. And of course, she knew. Want to know another secret?"

As if tonight wasn't full of secrets already.

"She admitted to me, after about a gallon of wine, that when she saw you in those speedo trunks you wore at 18. She had more than one improper thought about you. Despite her being married at the time. She'd have happily guided you in the ways of the world."

"Probably too late by then," I replied, and instantly regretted it.

"Who was it? Who took my baby's innocence?" Her momsy tone of voice did not marry up with the question.

I wasn't about to tell her about my fencing instructor and her daughter. Or how I'd kissed and cuddled the younger, until her mom showed me the good stuff.

"Can you take my shoes off and massage my feet?" She asked.

"Ew." I replied, holding my nose, as if implying her feet smelled.

It was an old joke from when I was a teenager.

"Given what else of my body you've had your hands on tonight. You turn your nose up at my feet?"

She was right, and it wasn't like I'd not done it many times before. But that was when she was just mom. The context here, was drastically different. Finding her at that party, the things we'd done together, and the things she'd revealed about herself. Add in, with her laying there like something that had stepped out of a wet dream, made it very difficult.

I knelt next to her and removed one high-heeled shoe and tried to ignore how sexual the moan of pleasure sounded, as I massaged her foot.

"At the next party, we both took snowdrop tattoos, but usually I go for the buttercup."

The wine in my mouth became hard to swallow as mom looked at me intently at that revelation. The image of men, and women, kissing mom, was odd. The image of them touching her under her clothes made my erection return, and I was glad I was hunched over her feet, so mom wouldn't see it.

The fact I'd done that myself, made it hard to think straight. Technically it had only been her ass I'd touched under her clothes, but way more than a son should do. Things were blurring between 'mom' and the sexy woman before me.

"The thing is about the tattoos is that they don't restrict you from doing more yourself. It only stops others from doing things to you unbidden. So, I've done more at the parties than simply touching. But usually, I prefer more privacy. I'd meet a suitable guy, and we'd come back here."

She'd been staring at the ceiling, lost in the memories, when she gave a little shudder. I had to wonder if that was just her memories or if she'd just climaxed. She lifted her foot away, and I was greeted with an open crotch display, before she held her other foot out for me.

"How come Sara wasn't with you? I presume you normally go together?"

"Time of the month." She explained. "But she insisted I go and tell her the 'blow by blow.'" Mom sniggered and downed the rest of the wine.

I refilled our glasses and noted the bottle was empty.

"What's so funny mom?"

"Sara had progressed from a buttercup girl and dared me to do more. So tonight, I chose a fuchsia cluster." She looked down at me to gauge my reaction. Her cheeks and upper chest were flushed.

I knew, growing up, that mom had some sexual encounters. She'd admitted to sleeping with my personal trainer and dietitian, but I tried not to think about what she actually did. Ever since I'd seen her with the singer at her party, it was harder to ignore that she gave blow jobs, and natural to think of the guy returning the favour. Even if I tried to avoid thinking about the details.

Especially at that moment, with her thighs open and the shiny PVC barely covering her pussy. But it was another thing to come to terms that she'd do that and receive that from other women.

Her other foot brushed across my inner thigh. "You know I'm good at that. After watching me in that office."

"I saw you for like 2 seconds." I retorted and put her foot down and slid a little away from her.

"Really, Sara said you watched, for like a full minute."

"Nope, I think she was winding you up."

Damn, I wanted to go back to my chair, but if I stood mom would see my erection. However, given she'd felt it against her as I fingered her. No! I'd not fingered her. Her hand pressed against mine. Trying to reject the memories, I stood and turned. Picking up my water glass and downing it.

Mom spoke again, and she sounded pretty drunk.

"You don't need to hide it honey. You should be proud of it. In fact, if things had turned out a little differently tonight. I'd have been on my knees in front of you now, proving my oral skills." She took a drink. Then blurted out. "I didn't mean you, I meant another lucky guy. The one I was going to work out months of sexual frustration with."

"I like we can be open about things, mom. But sometimes I wish we weren't."

She sniggered.

"So, what's with that costume?" I asked to change the subject.

"Don't ask! This was Sara's idea. She got it for herself, but insisted I wear it. It was bloody murder putting it on. Baby powder all over me and both of us tugging it on. She had to grab handfuls of my tits to get them in there."

Again, the image of that bypassed my normal censoring of what I thought my mom got up to.

"Actually, I'm gonna get changed. It's pretty swampy under the PVC."

I nearly commented that I knew. Having my hands on her ass under the PVC.

As she got up and swayed towards her room, I couldn't help looking at her ass. Remembering the warm soft feel of her flesh and I could admit to myself I'd loved it. Hell, I had loved touching her. Wrong as it was.

I went to the bathroom to relieve myself and heard grunting coming from mom's room.

"You OK mom?" I asked, with a grin on my face.

"No! Fucking thing!"

I walked back into the living room and sat. Only for mom to come back a minute later.

"You're gonna have to help me."

"Seriously?" I replied.

"Yes! Look, I know this is awkward for both of us. But I can't exactly wander down the street at this time of night on the off chance of waking Sara up. And this thing is too tight to sleep in. I might get some version of DVT."

"I know but..."

"Given how much I rubbed against you and made you touch me, this isn't that much more. They're just tits." She said and cupped her boobs.

Touching her to get the costume off was one thing, but I'd also see her naked. She damn well wasn't wearing underwear under that.

Under my breath I replied. "Yours aren't just tits. They're awesome. How do we do this?" I added, in as normal a tone as I could manage.

"Sara stood behind me on the chair and reached over my shoulders."

I saw myself standing behind her to push the outfit down, and all I saw was my hands and then arms brushing over her tits.

"How about I kneel in front of you with my eyes closed?" I offered.

Mom lifted her arms as I knelt and hooked my fingers under the PVC near her armpits. Closed my eyes and pulled. After a moment I understood why the pair had such difficulties getting it on. As the PVC was pulled lower, the swell of her breasts made it far tighter.

"Fuck Trey! Hurry. It feels like you're trying to tear my tits off."

I looked briefly at her, to see way more boob flesh of my mother than I should. But more was to come. The edge of the outfit exposed the edge of a puckered areola. I winced as I imagined it must be painful to crush her nipple like that. Closing my eyes, I shifted my grip from the sides, and hooked my fingers in the narrow confines of her exposed cleavage and pulled hard.

Mom yelped as the PVC shifted and the pressure released as her boobs came free.

"Oh, thank God. Ew!" She exclaimed, and I opened my eyes automatically to be greeted by two disturbing sights.

The first was my mom's breasts. Disturbing in that it wasn't something I should see. But something I was glad I had. They were more impressive in the flesh than I might ever have imagined. Large and inviting, but with a red mark where the outfit had originally ended, and another fainter mark across the middle of her breasts.

The second disturbing thing was the goo on her fingers. I blinked as my first thought was cum, but I realised it was a mixture of sweat and baby powder that had gathered under her breasts. When I looked up, I saw her looking at me with a hint of insecurity on her face.

I didn't risk saying anything, as 'awesome,' was the only thing that came to mind. So, I gave her a reassuring smile.

I could rationalise her needing help to remove the costume. She was right that she couldn't sleep in it. I could suck it up seeing her naked if she could. Of course, it might be easier on me if she didn't look like she was enjoying my discomfort.

"Can you get a towel?" Mom asked me.

"Sure." I replied and hurried to the kitchen.

Letting out a deep sigh. The revelations of this evening would forever change my relationship with her. Seeing her topless wasn't that big a deal, was it? Logically it shouldn't be, but logic could fuck off. Logic couldn't count the number of Montgomery glands on her areola, from the memory burned into my mind. Logic wouldn't get a hard-on after grabbing its mother's ass or tits, nor rubbing her pussy until she'd nearly cum.

I'd finish helping her and go directly to bed. My bed, I clarified, directing the thought to my treacherous penis. I'm a trained actor, I could pull off indifference. If he wasn't waving back proving it was all a lie. I'd sleep, if I could, then leave the house before mom got up. And make some excuse not to see her for a few months.

Perhaps then what I'd seen wouldn't be so vivid. Then I groaned, as I picked up a towel. Her tits were only round one, of what I was going to see.

I returned with the towel and held it out to her, but she just held her hands out and I wiped each clean. Trying not to stare at her exposed breasts. Considering their size and her age, there was very little sag. From the look on mom's face, she knew I was looking, while pretending not to. But hey! I'm a guy and tits are tits. And these were amazing. The fact they belonged to mom, made me feel guilty, but this was her decision to let me see them.

Now I thought about it we could have covered her with a beach towel, and I'd have seen nothing. As I thought that I hated myself for not mentioning it to her. Despite knowing it was wrong some part of me wanted to see all of her.

I held out the towel again after I'd done her hands.

"You do it. I don't want to get my hands messy again."

I frowned, but mom had always been a bit of a germophobe and neat freak. Her minimalist furniture proved that. Wiping her clean was just helping, right? After all, she wiped a lot worse off me as a baby. And scrubbed me clean in the bath for years.

"It kinda looks like cum, doesn't it? I wouldn't mind that on my hands, as I'd yummy it all down in a moment." She spoke as if I wasn't there.

That wasn't helping.

"You want me to..."

"You've already had your hands on them. Why should it be that much different without the outfit in the way?"

I was sure she was fucking with me, and the moment I touched her she'd slap my hand away and ask what the hell I was playing at. But that didn't add up. And knowing that mom liked to eat cum, was making it very hard to think clearly. I gently brushed the towel over the exposed flesh, keeping my fingers covered with the towel.

"Don't forget the undersides. That's where most of the stuff is. You'll need to lift a boob to do it properly."

I hesitated until I realised it would look like I was dragging this out to look at her longer. Now I wished I brought a larger towel. Between the size of mom's breasts and the small towel, it wasn't big enough to lift and wipe. So, I reached out and cupped a breast. Lifting it, my thumb passed through the goo and slipped. Causing it to flick across her already hard nipple.

"Sorry,"

"It's OK. I'm sure it was an accident. But if you do it another dozen times, I might think differently." She grinned at me, and I shook my head.

I knew she could be playful when drinking, but this was different. I had to put it down to the stress from earlier at the party with those assholes stalking her. Let her work it out her way. Perhaps by flirting with someone 100% safe was her pressure valve.

After cleaning both breasts as quickly and gently as I could, I dropped the towel. Mom was looking down between us, at the bulge in my trousers. If she wasn't bothered by this, why should I? If she needed proof that she still had it in the sexiness department. Having her son get an erection around her, was stronger proof and any words.Of course, that didn't make me feel any less awkward. Especially as we still had the bottom half of the outfit to go.

Gripping the outfit and pulling it down to her waist was easy.

"OK, this bit was really hard to get on. Given you've already put your hands on my bum, perhaps I should turn around."

Mom turned her back to me and was able to help to push the outfit lower on her hips. But as with her breast, as they flared out the material got tighter and tighter. Remembering the technique from the top, I pressed two fingers down her ass crack, slick with sweat, and hauled the PVC down.

Mom let out a grunt of discomfort, but the outfit moved and turned inside out. Only held up as the leg holes gripped her upper thigh. Leaving me staring at my mom's ass, and I could just make out her labia beneath. But the now exposed crotch of the outfit showed the cumulative effect of the sweat and baby powder.

"Jesus, it looks like those four got you after all." I said without thinking and regretted it.

Mom lowered her head, to look between her thighs and see what I meant. Causing more of her pussy to come into view. She chuckled seeing the mess.

"Clean me up, and I'll sit. Then you should be able to stand in front and get the outfit and remains of the fishnets off me."

Taking the towel, I wiped her ass, then because of the amount of sweat that had collected at the lowest point of her costume. I pressed the towel against her inner thighs. Which was a huge mistake. The back of my hand brushed against her labia, and she gasped. I snatched my hand back and expected a rebuke.

However, I swear mom shifted her stance. Moved one foot to widen the gap and leant further forward, presenting more of her pussy to me. The smell of the sweat and baby powder was joined by a smell a son should never know. The scent of mom's aroused pussy.

I looked away, trying to keep myself from doing something stupid. And the list of stupid things I could think of seemed to double and double again very quickly. Mom looked over her shoulder and I realised I'd stopped. Then she moved and sat on the chair and lifted her legs up in anticipation that I would finally get the stupid bodysuit off her.

I moved to stand in front of her and she rested her ankles on my shoulders. Mom was reclined on the seat, her bum right on the edge and the narrow gap between her thighs showed her shaved pussy. As I leant down to grip the PVC to pull it off, my mind filled with the need to do more.

I wanted to kneel in front of her and worship her body. To kiss her all over and I shuddered as my mind imagined the feel of what it would be like. When I pressed my fingers, tongue and finally my dick inside her body.

Closing my eyes seemed pointless now, and mom easily could have placed her hand to cover her pussy, but she hadn't. So, I removed the bodysuit and tattered remains of her fishnets and tossed them aside. Mom sprawled on the chair, throwing her arms and legs out wide.

"God! You're no idea how good it feels to be out of that thing. It's an interesting feeling to wear it. With the whole thing pressing down on you like some bondage outfit. But it's not worth the pain and effort getting in or out of it."

There was a tension in the air, that was so tight it could break at any moment. The slightest sign from mom and I could seriously destroy our relationship. She was naked and spread open in front of me, but her eyes weren't on my face. They were locked on my crotch. She let out a little shiver, and seemed to come back to herself. She jumped up and grabbed both our glasses.

"I really need a shower. Come with me." She walked away.

"Why?"

"Because I'm rather drunk and I might slip in the shower. I might need someone to make sure I don't break a hip." Playing both on her age and my concerns that, as her son, I'd want to protect her was devious and smart. No wonder she was such a good lawyer.

I followed mom into her bathroom and watched as she downed the last of the wine, and stepped into the shower and turned it on. Giving me a cheeky grin, squishing her boobs against the glass panel for me to see.

"You know this is fucked up mom?"

"I know. Tell you what. Tonight, never happened, OK? From the moment you answered your phone, until tomorrow morning, we redact it from reality."

"I'm not sure how that works. I know I'll never forget seeing you like that."

"You like?"

I sighed and nodded.

"Now how are you going to stop me falling if you're standing over there. You need to be in the shower with me."

Knowing it was a bad idea, but that I'd do it, anyway. I shed my shirt and trousers. My boxer shorts were not up to the job of hiding my erection, but I stepped towards mom.

"And those."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I don't see why I should miss out. You've seen all my body, and I'll admit I'm curious to see how you turned out." I paused, as I tried to come up with a sensible reason we shouldn't.

But my brain was seriously not working properly. I'd never been a guy to lose his head over any woman, naked or not. But mom seemed to have the master key to turn off that self-control.

"Anyway, I know you're going to wank when you get to bed, and you'll be thinking about me. I know I've a toy waiting for me, and I want to have the image of you and that hard dick. Which has had me wet since I first felt it, at the forefront of my brain."

I dropped my boxers and stepped under the water next to mom.

"This is a bad idea mom."

"Why, nothing is happening tonight. Certainly not this."

Her fingers encircled my cock, and I shuddered. Cool fingers against the furnace heat from my aching cock. She looked up into my eyes and I knew we were past the point of no return. Any regrets or consequences were someone else's problem for the moment. That was the future and all that mattered was 'the now'.

I kissed her again. No mom and son kiss. And this time there was no acting on either of our parts. My arms engulfed her and pulled her to me. Trapping her hand between us and robbing me of the movement. But I wanted to touch my mom more than that. More than anything I could think I ever have thought of wanting before.

It would be impossible to tell when my body took control from my brain. My hands moving over mom's back, and hers grasping my ass hard and pulling me closer. It was like my brain was wrapped in cotton wool and I was seeing things that were me and not me at the same time. I felt the sensations, but wasn't aware I'd ordered my body to do what it did.

I pressed her back against the tiles, my hand reached between her legs and lifted on and thrust myself forward. Blindly and foolishly.

"My hip!" Mom said. Chuckling at my confused expression. "I wasn't joking about breaking my hip. I'm sure we can wait a little longer."

"I'm not sure mom."

"I know! I want it as well. Just let us clean up and head to bed."

With more self-control than I'd ever managed in my life. I watched as she generously applied shower gel, then handed the bottle to me. Any doubt that mom wasn't as eager as me, would be dispelled by the speed she washed and rinsed off. Leaving me standing alone in the shower after only managing half my body. However, there was no way I'd want to offend mom if I rushed from the shower half washed.

Not that I hung about. But as I stepped into the bedroom and saw mom already in bed and under the covers a stab of doubt entered me.

"We don't have to," I said.

"I know." She flicked the covers back in invitation. Showing her naked form.

Then I saw the doubt in her eyes.

"Unless you don't want to?" She pulled the covers back to cover up.

I jumped towards the bed and slipped into it. Bringing my face to hers and giving her a regular kiss.

"It's madness I know, but you taught me to always be honest. I want you more than I thought I could want anyone."

"Thank God! Me too."

She pushed me onto my back and smiled down at me. Then moved to let a breast dangle over my face. But each time I tried to lift my head up to kiss it, she moved it out of reach.

"No fair," I muttered, as she sniggered. "How would you feel if I did that with my cock?"

"Fair point. Speaking of which..."

She spun around and vanished under the covers. I felt her warm mouth engulf the tip of my cock and I knew that any doubts remaining, were insignificant to what was happening. Mom pushed the covers aside to see what she was doing, and I took the chance to reach between her legs and stroke her labia.

She surprised me by swatting my hand away.

"I want to concentrate on this. No distractions. But I promise you can have as much time as you want doing whatever you want with me later. Just let me milk your first load out of you now."

She returned to sucking me, then crab walked around to kneel between my legs so she could look me in the eye as she sank down deep. The head hit the back of her mouth and she gagged slightly.

"Fuck! I thought I could deep throat you. I must be out of practice."

The sensation of her tongue teasing my crown and the idea of mom using me again and again to practise, elicited a groan from me.

"Already?" She asked.

"Nearly. But you don't know what you do to me. Not only are you amazing at that. The fact it's you doing it. It's like..." I struggled for a simile. "It's like you're the hot sauce on my spicy wings. It's already hot, but you turn up the heat to inferno."

She chuckled. "I know what you mean, and I like the comparison. Can I ask you something? Something rather private."

"Mom, we're both naked and you're sucking my cock. I think the idea of privacy is relatively low now."

"Have you ever thought about me this way before?" Just in case I didn't understand her meaning. She moved to rub a nipple around the opening of my cock.

When I didn't answer she paused and looked at me. I was thinking.

"No, not really."

"Oh."

"Not like this I mean. Yes, when I was younger, I wondered what you looked like naked." I didn't add that I was thinking about nearly any female like that. "Anything more seemed so unlikely that my brain refused the concept. What about you?"

She wanked my cock slowly and seemed like she would not answer. "I have, at least a little. After a drunk Sara saw you in speedos and said what she'd wanted to do with you. I looked at you a little differently. You were a man, and I finally saw that, instead of my little boy."

She smiled and wanked me a little quicker. "Not that this could be called little."

Her mouth descended on me again, and I struggled not to cum too quickly.

"Getting close?"

"I'm trying not to."

"It's OK. I want you to cum. I know you'll impress me later, so fill my mouth with your seed. And maybe later I'll tell you some of my fantasies."

Any chance I'd hold out longer, was stolen away as she dialled it up to 11. I know I should have warned her, but I had almost no control of my body. Not that she needed warning. She was ready as I flooded her tongue and mouth with shot after shot of cum.

Mom pulled back when I finally finished, her eyes sparkling in pleasure and wiped some stray saliva and cum from her lips.

"That was a lot."

"All because of you mom." I wheezed.

Why was I out of breath? I'd just laid there.

"Good?"

"Better than anyone ever before. You've ruined me for other women."

"If only." She replied, looking a little sad.

But I couldn't have my mom sad, even for a moment. I pulled her up my body and swapped places with where she'd been moments before. My face inches from her pussy. The thought that I'd come from there 30 years before was quashed as her scent invaded my body. Something in my head shifted, and I thought I could no longer make do breathing only air. In the future, I'd need the smell of her aroused pussy in order to function.

"Are you just gonna look at it?" She asked, and I smiled and shook my head.

"Fine art needs to be appreciated. Would you just dive into a gourmet meal, without appreciating its appearance before you taste it."

My mouth kissed up her thigh, bypassed her pussy once, then I couldn't wait any longer. My lips pressed to hers and my tongue extended. Part of my brain flipped out that I was French kissing my mom's pussy. But nothing but the end of the world could stop me. Or so I prayed.

Lapping, licking, probing with fingers, tongue and even my nose. I used every skill I'd ever learned, and mom was quickly panting. Her buttocks writhing and twitching as she rose the growing wave of her orgasm. Like a master surfer, I stayed with her, guiding it, and then sat back as it crested. Her cream seeping from her labia reminded me of the bodysuit crotch. And I knew it would look like that but more so, when I had my turn in there.

As mom recovered, she gestured for me to snuggle with her and hugged me tight. Letting me feel the little tremors of aftershocks.

After several minutes, mom kissed my chest and looked up into my eyes.

"How are you single?"

"Work is not easily conducive to a regular relationship. Irregular hours, and more irregular locations. I can be gone for months at a time. So, I have a few ladies who are prepared to overlook that for brief periods of intense attention."

"I can feel that attention poking my stomach. Are you ready already?"

"What can I say mom? That's what you do to me."

It was my turn to push her on to her back and she opened her legs to welcome me. As if to prove this was right, the tip of my erection kissed her lower lips and found her opening perfectly. A small pressure engaged the crown between her lips, and she gasped. Then wrapped her legs around me and drew me all the way inside.

I shuddered at the feeling and mom exhaled slowly.

"Fuck! I don't want to give you a big head. But that ticks all my boxes for the perfect dick."

"Right back at you mom."

She shivered.

"You, ok?" I asked.

"Yeah, but with you calling me mom. While buried balls deep inside me. It's..." She blinked. "Really intense. What did you say? Hot sauce?"

I pulled back until only the tip was inside her and pressed my mouth near her ear.

"Mom." I whispered, and I pressed all the way home. I repeated it again and again.

Taking it slowly, to extract every scintilla of the sensations, between our bodies and mind.

When mom's fingernails dug into my back in warning, not to mess about, I stopped teasing her and remained silent.

I don't want to make out I was a starry-eyed virgin here. Sex I'd had, and great sex. But something about this fired up all my senses more than I'd ever encountered before.

Mom had never worn perfume since I was born, and her shampoos and soaps were all mildly scented. Leaving my nostrils to read her body's true aromas. A lifetime of memories of those scents clouded my mind to my earliest childhood memories. I read somewhere that our longest memories come from smell and scent. Going back to newborn babies.

My nerve endings were sensing everything. The heat of her skin and the heat of her core. The cool material of her bedding and the faint buzz of her AC in the background. The friction of our flesh as we worked together to give and get pleasure.

As I thrust forward, her hips rose to meet me. Then she was a fraction ahead of me, and I changed my timing to match. Subtly she took charge and with a lifetime of trust, I followed her lead, until we hit a sweet spot for speed and sensations. She gripped my head and held it about 6 inches over hers. I needed no words to tell her I would not last that much longer.

"Do it. I want you to spend in me. I need to feel your seed in me. Please don't make me wait." She said, and I could only nod.

Taking a deep gasp, mom seemed to realise it was about to happen. Her eyes widened as we both felt me swell inside her, as cum flooded out of my cock. As it pumped deep inside her pussy, her eyes lost focus and rolled up. She seemed to have stopped breathing and now she inhaled deeply, and her body shuddered with her climax.

Mom's arms were tight around my back and her legs hooked behind my buttocks. Pulling me harder into her, as if she was trying to absorb me completely.

Watching my mom's face as she recovered, I felt such a wave of love, it was scary and almost overwhelming. Obviously, I loved my mom, but this was like someone had pried open my head. Inserting needles directly into the part of my brain that generated love and connected a battery. It felt like it was rewriting my mind's concept of my ideal woman, and mom was the result.

The moment was spoiled as a drop of sweat dripped from my chin and landed on mom's nose.

She laughed and wiped it away.

"I think we might need to clean up a bit." She suggested, and I reluctantly pulled out and helped her to her feet.

In the bathroom she rinsed out her wine glass and refilled it with water and drank. As I stood over the toilet, waiting for my erection to wilt enough to pee. Mom watched, then stepped closer and replaced my hand aiming it with one of hers.

"You do not know the fascination women have over these. It's so alien to have something that can be so many different things."

"So, men shouldn't feel so bad about being obsessed with boobs then?" I asked, as a trickle of urine started.

Mom jumped, but kept me aimed into the bowl.

We stepped into the shower together, but this time I stopped mom from washing herself. Placing her hands on the wall, I stood behind her and grabbed her shampoo. Previously, she'd kept her hair out of the water, but this time I wanted to show her my love without the sex.

Working the shampoo deep into the roots of her hair and massaging the scalp. Taking my time and making the most of it, mom eventually let out a moan of pleasure.

"Nice? Perhaps you should see if your hairdresser would offer this as a service." I said.

"It would be worth it, whatever the cost. But this might be unprofessional." She reached behind her and grabbed my erection. "Poking my bum is a distraction. But that would not be a problem as my hairdresser is a woman. So that might create some interesting options."

I remember mom admitting that she and Sara had played around. A few hours ago, nothing you could have told me would make me believe that. But then again, I never would have imagined anything in the multiverse that would let mom and me make love.

As I switched to the conditioner, mom began trying to rub her ass against my erection, and I tried to ignore it. I finished that and knelt and starting with her feet, I washed and worshipped. Anointing the clean skin with kisses as I worked higher. By the time I got to her pussy, I was sure she thought I'd abandon my cleaning, to concentrate on it.

But somehow, I managed. After all, I still had the pleasure of washing and kissing her breasts. However, I didn't make too much of a meal of them. I completed her washing by planting a single kiss on her lips.

"Thank you. My turn." Mom replied, and repeated my actions. Just in a different order.

She ended up kneeling and her kiss of completion was gentle on my achingly hard cock. Then breaking the moment, she rather undignifiedly pulled herself to her feet with it as a handle and used it as a tiller to lead me back to her bed. She knelt on the edge and presented her backside to me.

"Your turn honey. Do whatever you want."

I blew out a lung full of air. "Kid in a candy store, much?" I said, and she chuckled.

Pressing my crown into her pussy, I gripped her hips and pushed deeper.

"God! That's so good. I wish we could be like this forever." Mom said, shifting to rest on her elbows. Changing the angle of penetration.

"I think we could figure out carrying straps and a counterweight. But I think it would be an issue for the costume department to adjust my costumes enough to hide you hanging off my cock."

She chuckled. "Still, it would be wonderful to have this feeling all the time."

This time around, I fought the urge to hammer away. While it was too good to rush it, if this was a onetime thing, I needed to remember every detail and make it perfect. Both for me and for mom. Eventually, mom was the one who broke first and begged me to not hold back. But it was a close thing. Finding that sweet spot again that rang both our bells.

Mom's climax triggered mine only moments later, and we both collapsed onto the bed. Mom pulled the covers over me and I suspect I'd be asleep the moment I closed my eyes. Then I remembered mom had explained the how, but not the why.

"So why do you go to the parties?"

"Damn, I thought you'd dropped it. OK. Fine. I suppose my job is a little like yours, in that sometimes I need to spend 100% of my attention on it. If I had a husband or regular boyfriend, they couldn't cope with that."

"It's not just a failing in the male, but I accept your point."

"I've dabbled with watching porn over the years, but never really got into it. But watching others at the parties, has really brought out my voyeuristic side. And having random people come up to me at the parties to kiss and grope me under my clothing is intensely exciting."

"Does everyone follow the rules?"

"No penetration. Yeah mostly, in fact it's usually the women who push the rules more than the guys. Most of the time it's the young hirelings that approach me, and it's one of them I'd bring home after the party. For the record, I've never had to pay them, so I don't know if they are just as horny as me after the party; or there is an agreement with the host.

"Anyway, the next day I'm almost always completely sated and for the next month I enjoy the memories of what had happened. During month two, it's split between the memories and the prospect of the new ones. In month three I'm anticipating the party and the after party. So, by the time I turn up, my body has been trained to expect release. So, part of what we did earlier is from that.

"If those guys hadn't seen the rose, but the fuchsia cluster tattoo. I might have done more than suck on a couple of them. But not four together."

"Are you ok with the three-month cycle?"

She shrugged and told me to sleep.

Waking in the morning feeling refreshed but hungry. Opening my eyes and recognising mom's bedroom, the events of the night exploded in my memory. Looking over to find I was alone.

Worrying that mom might be regretting what we did. I slipped from the bed and looked for my discarded clothes in the bathroom, but they were gone. So, I padded naked and barefoot to the kitchen.

Mom stood with her back to me at the ironing board. She wore a short silk robe that revealed no sign of anything beneath it.

"Sleep well, honey?" She said, as she lifted my freshly iron shirt from the board.

It confused me, from her tone and action, it was like nothing had happened. Then I remembered our deal that last night never happened. Now I felt awkward being nude.

Would she think I was trying to force myself on her and break the deal? She turned to face me as I stepped towards her to grab my clothes.

She smiled seeing me and pulled the shirt away from me as I reached for it.

"I think I prefer that outfit." She said,

"And the deal? We agreed when we got up in the morning, it was over." I asked, as my eyes lingered on the prominent peaks of her nipples through the gown.

"I was thinking about that. Given we only made that agreement when it was already the morning. The foundation is already flimsy. So, I think we can be a little more flexible on the terms."

"Sounds like a lawyer's silver tongue to me."

"You didn't mind last night." She mimed sucking a dick. "How about we negotiate?" She pulled one side of her robe aside to expose a breast.

"You won. But you always do."

"Are you complaining?"

I shook my head as she reached out and wrapped her cool fingers around my erection. She rested her head on my shoulder, facing away from me.

"I'm not sure I'm strong enough to give this up." Her hand, moving on my shaft, underscored her meaning. As if any was necessary.

"So, we don't." I replied.

Wrapping my arms around her.

She lifted her head up to face me.

"But..." my mouth silenced hers.

"Mom, we agreed to something before we could think it through. And before we knew the rewards."

Mom nodded, and it was unusual for her to remain silent. We knew each other so well, that we both knew most of what the other was thinking. A ledger of sorts where the pros and cons were listed. The enormity, if others found out, and the enormity of what we had discovered.

"How about we do this? I have another 10 days on the movie, and then I'm due a prolonged rest. We take that time to think it through. If we agree to continue, you come away with me and we book somewhere as a couple."

"But what if I want it now?" Her hand resumed rubbing my shaft.

"I thought I was the one impatient for Xmas? Didn't you always tell me you should take your time for important decisions?"

"When did you become the grown up?" She asked and released my cock and stepped back.

I reached out and caressed her breast before covering it again.

Two weeks later, the door to the bungalow opened to signify a beginning to a new life.

"Mr and Mrs Collins, welcome to your bungalow on the beautiful island of Bora Bora. As you can see, you are already over the ocean that allows you to swim within the lagoon..."

The young woman continued talking, but I was looking at my beaming mother next to me. Her hair a little shorter than usual and her clothing a little younger, to match the tint of grey I'd had our makeup department leave in my hair. On her finger an engagement and wedding ring. We knew it would never be real, but it had the advantage that we already had the same family name.

I tipped the resort staff as mom entered the bedroom. By the time I closed the door to find mom, I had a moment's concern that she wasn't there. Until I saw her dive naked into the ocean. In moments I joined her, and she swam over.

"Happy?" I asked,

"Deliriously. You?"

"Extremely. But I'm a little bushed from the trip."

"Are you saying you want to sleep, or is it a hint you want us to go to bed?"

"What do you think?" I asked, as I reached out to brush my hand over her shaved pussy.

"I supposed I could give you a relaxing massage, work out all the kinks and suck you dry. I'm sure you'll sleep then."

"What about you?"

"I figure you'll need all your strength and stamina to keep me fully satisfied."

"And I dedicate my time here to do that."

As I watched her ass climbing from the water, I knew this was an illusion. We could pull this off here, but at home it would be harder. Not impossible, but we could not be as free as we'd like. So, live for today, for tomorrow...

For the record: there were some rumours about Arthur attending a dodgy sex party. But the night of the party he was filmed in the presidential box with the President at a baseball game in Texas.

The End