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Angela's Diary - 4
by Gregg X (senorsmut@gmail.com) 
 
***

The tawdry recollections of a suburban housewife led 
into a life of sin and debauchery by her wicked son and 
her own unquenchable lust. (F/M-teen, inc, exh, beast)

***

Chapter Six: May 13

When I walked out of the lingerie store I was on a 
cloud. I felt strong, confident, sexy, like I could do 
anything I put my mind to and like I had a right to 
have anything I wanted. On the way home I was struck by 
an irresistible craving for French fries. 

Normally I don't like greasy food, but at that moment 
deep fat fried anything sounded absolutely delicious. I 
swung by a McDonalds, thinking I'd get a small fry, but 
when I opened my mouth at the drive through microphone, 
what came out was, "I'd like a 10 piece nugget meal, 
please." 10 Chicken McNuggets! AND a bunch of French 
fries! God, I'd be working this off my ass for the next 
month. I thought of canceling the order, but I pushed 
the thought away. I wanted this. I deserved this. And I 
was really, really hungry for this.

As a concession to sanity, I ordered a Diet Coke. I'm 
sure that balanced out the meal.

I devoured the greasy meal and strongly considered 
going back for another, such was my craving, but 
sensibility prevailed and I headed home with the radio 
blasting and my head banging to the music. (I like 
punk. I know, who'd think to look at me, right?)

When I got home, Charlie was very happy to see me and 
he greeted me with the enthusiasm that only a canine 
can muster when he's convinced he'd been left forever 
alone and then his best buddy comes. I took him out for 
our daily run, and I added six blocks to it as penance 
for my indulgence at the Golden Arches. 

The run cleared my mind and I got into the zone you 
sometimes get into when you're exercising really good, 
where you don't think of anything at all except the air 
in your lungs and the way your muscles are moving 
smoothly and efficiently but you feel so incredibly 
good, like the best drug ever. 

I handled the extra mile or so easily enough, but it 
kicked Charlie's furry butt, and the poor dear just 
collapsed in a panting heap in front of the floor fan 
when we got in the door. I got on my knees and petted 
him for a good fifteen minutes, something we both 
loved, then let him out the back to investigate the 
yard and sit in the breeze while I took a shower.

I felt perfect when I stepped into the shower; I was 
thinking about what I had done with Petra, and how sexy 
and empowered it made me feel, and those thoughts 
really put me on a high. But when I was rinsing the 
conditioner out of my hair I suddenly started thinking 
about my wedding, and how I had pledged to honor and be 
faithful to Tim, and I suddenly felt incredibly, 
massively guilty. Regardless of the fact that he and I 
had no sex life whatsoever, I was still married to him 
and I still loved him very, very much. He deserved 
better from me that to be sneaking off to sleazy adult 
stores to have sex with women –

My God. It hit me suddenly, hard and brutally, that I 
had fucked a woman. What had seemed so erotic to me 
just moments before suddenly felt disgusting and alien 
and perverse, only a step (if that) above child 
molestation. How could I have done it? What in the 
world had I been thinking? And how could I have enjoyed 
it? How could I have reveled in it? I was sick. I was 
vile!

Tears were streaming down my face when I stepped out of 
the shower, and when I saw myself naked in the full-
length mirror I almost vomited. I looked horrible. I 
was old. I was wrinkly. I was sagging. I had extra 
weight. What right did I have to think I was sexy? What 
right did I have to want anything more than the sexless 
existence Tim had given me? I broke down completely and 
cried for half an hour.

When I was done crying, I felt a little better. I still 
had some twinges of guilt, but not nearly as bad, and I 
covered myself in jeans and a floppy shirt so I 
wouldn't have to look at my gross body. I settled down 
in the kitchen and called Tammy, one of the few of my 
friends who is a stay at home mom like me. Her kids are 
younger than mine – she has an eight year old, a six 
year old, and a two year old – but her oldest, Ken, 
reminds me a lot of Laurel in terms of personality, 
while her two year Laine is a little hellion like David 
was at that age, though hopefully not as downright 
evil. The six year old, Martin, has fairly severe 
autism unfortunately, and so Tammy has to stay home to 
take care of him. 

I bustled around the kitchen, preparing the ingredients 
for the night's dinner (nothing fancy, just lasagna 
with a salad and some Italian bread) and talking to my 
friend while she cleaned. I was hoping talking to her 
would make me feel better, but it had the opposite 
effect because I was harboring secrets I didn't dare 
share with her, or with anyone I knew – except David, 
of course. David would find out what I did with Petra, 
and that would only give him more ammunition to use 
against me. The realization sent me into a miserable 
spiral and by the time I hung up I was ready to cry 
again. I fussed around a bit, doing a little cleaning, 
then wrote out a few bills while Charlie laid on my 
feet and kept them warm. Charlie, my sweet love. 

Tim surprised me by coming home early – he was home 
even before the kids. I was a little worried when I 
heard his car pull up, thinking there was something 
wrong, but when he came in with a hangdog expression 
and two dozen roses, I just melted. I put my arms 
around him, hugged him so tight it took the breath away 
from both of us, and cried like a baby while I babbled 
about how much I loved him and how sorry I was for what 
had happened the night before. He assured me it was all 
right, which just made me cry harder. 

I barely pulled myself together before David got home. 
I know David was surprised to see Tim there before him, 
which just confirmed to me that he had something 
malignant planned for the afternoon that Tim had, thank 
God, spoiled. That made me feel good, and I was happy 
and bouncy and cuddly with Tim until Laurel got back 
from school, especially because David vanished into his 
bedroom after saying hello and didn't torment me at 
all.

Dinner that night was fun, or at least that's how I 
remember it. Initially the kids were very leery, given 
what I'd yelled to Tim the night before, but Tim and I 
were jokey and flirty and very comfortable so that by 
the end everyone loosened up and had a good time. David 
made some veiled cracks about Charlie but I didn't let 
it get to me – right then, in fact, it felt like 
nothing could get to me at all. I felt invulnerable. So 
I did the logical thing which, was when he made a 
snarky comment, I laughed and pelted him with garlic 
bread (which Charlie ate when it hit the floor). 

After dinner my mood crashed again, for no reason 
whatsoever. I was alone except for Charlie, washing the 
dishes, and all of a sudden I was crying so hard my 
chest hurt. I stayed miserable for the rest of the 
night and cried myself to sleep beside my confused, 
worried husband and my confused, worried canine lover.
 

May 17

I won't bore you with the story of the next few days. I 
spent most of the days in tears and hating myself for 
being fat, ugly, old, faithless, feckless, lustful, 
perverted and useless. Everyone except Charlie learned 
to steer clear of me by Wednesday afternoon. Even David 
learned the lesson when he came into the kitchen to get 
a soda when I was fixing dinner and I, for no reason 
whatsoever, spent the next ten minutes screaming at him 
about... well, nothing, actually. Just screaming. 

I was so angry and irrational that Laurel, of all 
people, came downstairs and stepped between us. 
Similarly I spent most of the nights awake, miserable 
and aching in every joint in my body. I wasn't horny in 
the slightest – even when Charlie tried to lick me as I 
changed clothes I shooed him away. The thought of sex, 
of feeling pleasure, seemed bizarre and alien and 
undeserved. 

If you haven't figured it out by now, I was getting my 
period. I know I didn't figure it out until Friday 
night when it hit me – literally. It's not that I'm 
utterly dense. When I was a teenager my periods were so 
regular I could mark them out on the calendar months 
ahead of time. But since I was pregnant with David, and 
especially after Laurel, they became very irregular. It 
wasn't that uncommon for me to miss a month, or at 
least be two or three weeks late. It was basically 
random.

Furthermore, my PMS symptoms usually weren't that bad. 
Oh I'd bloat and ache and get a little moody, but 
nothing like this time. This time was some kind of a 
record for me. Stress, I suppose, coupled with the 
sudden increase in sexual hormones I'd been 
producing... or something. I don't know, I'm not a 
doctor. I've heard plenty of men complain that the 
workings of women's bodies, and especially 
menstruation, are a mystery to them. The fact is, 
they're a mystery to a lot of women too. 

Sometimes you barely bleed; other times you think your 
heart is pumping every drop of crimson straight out 
through your cooch. Sometimes you have such mild PMS 
symptoms you don't even notice; other times, like this 
time, you're so miserable and volatile that you're 
impossible to be around. Sometimes you're early; 
sometimes you're late; sometimes you skip. Sometimes 
the power of your fertility and fecundity strikes you 
in a sublime, almost spiritual way and you're awed at 
the majesty of your own body; other times you think 
it's a huge pain in the ass and you wish you were born 
without a uterus. 

This was a bad one. Not only the PMS was bad, but the 
period itself. Oh the bleeding wasn't dramatically 
worse than usual (maybe a little) but the side 
effect...damn. OK, there's really no beating around the 
bush here: when I'm through with PMS and actually in my 
period, I get horny. No, cancel that, I get HORNY. Even 
when my life was sexless, I'd spend a few days with an 
itch between my legs that always felt like it needed to 
be scratched. This time, with the awakening I'd had, I 
went into heat. 

It's a vulgar way to say it, sure, but it's also 
accurate. I woke up Saturday morning at about 3:00 AM 
*needing* to come like I've seldom needed it before. I 
lay there for a few minutes thinking fiercely sexual 
thoughts about Charlie and David, Petra and Brandy, and 
then I went into my bathroom and fingered myself to a 
pair of shuddering orgasms in what must have been 
record time. Even that didn't do more than take the 
edge off though, because I barely got back to sleep 
before the erotic dreams came... and my, were the 
erotic. The one I remember best was set in David's 
second grade class. 

It was Show and Tell and David brought me. Everyone in 
the room was a second-grader except for me, David, and 
the teacher. I was wearing a tiny little flirt skirt 
that showed my ass, a see-through mesh tank top, no 
underwear, red fishnet thigh-highs and these crazy 
stripper shoes, and I was sitting on David's lap. We 
were making out in the middle of class, kissing 
fiercely while he fingered me and I stroked his cock; 
nobody noticed. When it came time for him to present, 
he carried me up to the teacher's desk, set me there, 
dropped his pants and started fucking me long, deep and 
hard with his lovely cock. He kept whispering into my 
ear that if I wanted him to get an A, we'd have to put 
on a really good show...

I know, I know. How sick can you get, right? I wish I 
could pass it off as just a dream – after all, you 
can't control your dreams – but it was so damned hot 
that I masturbated to it again when I woke up. I knew 
how wrong, how sick, and even more, how dangerous it 
was for me to be thinking that way, but I was too hot 
to stop myself...or at least too hot to want to stop 
myself. 

I had the luxury of masturbating then because by the 
time I woke up it for good it was almost 9:30 and Tim 
was long gone to the club. So I came, then I laid there 
and enjoyed my afterglow, and finally dragged myself up 
and out of bed a few minutes before 10. I felt great. 
That's the other thing about menstruation – you spend 
the better part of a week in misery with PMS, and then 
when you finally get your period you feel vastly 
better. Oh there are still the occasional cramps, at 
least for me, and the libido rages, but other than that 
it feels a world better. I pulled on a simple pair of 
shorts (dark, naturally) and a tee shirt and went 
downstairs. 

Laurel was there, playing with Charlie in the den. 
Charlie bounded to meet me, wagging his whole butt, 
while Laurel eyed me warily. It had been a rough week 
and I'd had everyone in the house walking on eggshells, 
but she relaxed a bit when I laughed easily at 
Charlie's antics. After a moment she asked, "How are 
you feeling?"

"Good. Got my period."

"Oh! Well...that explains it."

I laughed. "Yeah it does. Sorry about the last week."

"I had a bet with dad about whether you were going 
crazy."

"You did not!"

"Well...maybe not. But I'd have gotten good odds."

I stuck out my tongue at her. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"Sure did. I ate with dad, and then he took off. I'm 
leaving in about 20 minutes."

"Oh? Where are you going?"

"I'm going shopping with Brittney, remember?"

I did then. Brittney was her friend who had just gotten 
her driver's license, and this was the first time she 
would be able to take a gang of girls to the mall. 
"When will you be back?"

"Probably not until the afternoon, like maybe even 
after dinner. Oh, and dad said he'd be late today too, 
a business thing. Looks like you'll be alone with the 
dork."

I paused for a bit. "David's still here?"

"David's still in bed. You know him and weekends."

I felt a flutter of panic in my breast at the idea of 
spending the rest of the morning and the early 
afternoon alone with David (I had a date with some 
girlfriends in the afternoon myself), but I pushed it 
aside. I had to deal with him sooner or later so it 
might as well be sooner. Laurel was gone before I was 
done with breakfast and so I was left alone with my 
thoughts.

And what thoughts. I was so horny my fingernails hurt. 
I was ashamed of myself for the way I'd acted over the 
past week. I was ashamed of myself for getting myself 
in the fix with David. Charlie kept rubbing against my 
legs and when he did all I could think about was his 
cock locked inside of me and the way it felt when he 
pulled out and all his cum exploded from me. 

I was frightened of what David would do when he finally 
got out of bed. I kept thinking about David's cock and 
the way his cum tasted. I wanted to run. I wanted to 
fuck. I wanted...I guess I wanted something to happen, 
something to break the tension, something to move me 
one way or the other because I didn't know which 
direction to go.

Nothing happened during breakfast, naturally enough, or 
when I took Charlie out in the back yard so he could 
romp. It was a clammy day, cool and humid and overcast. 
Larry, my next door neighbor, was out mowing his lawn 
and I waved to him as I smelled the fresh-cut grass and 
watched my dog romp. I brought Charlie back inside. 

David still wasn't up, but I wasn't going to wait 
around for him. I went upstairs and took a nice long 
shower; I tried to keep from thinking naughty thoughts 
but the shower has always been an erotic place for me 
and it wasn't long before I had the shower wand 
spraying one particular place and I had my fourth 
orgasm in about seven and a half hours. I was still 
ragingly horny when I got out of the bathroom.

I have to say at this point that this level of sexual 
desire wasn't normal for me, even when I was having my 
period. This was something phenomenal, something wholly 
other, and I didn't know how to handle it. I was 
craving orgasms, craving them the same way I craved 
screwy things like chocolate-covered sauerkraut when I 
was pregnant; it was bone-deep, all the way through me, 
always in my mind even when I was thinking about 
something else. And having an orgasm didn't seem to 
diminish my want for more. 

My skin was tingling and wanting to be touched, my 
nipples were hard and tender, I was almost panting like 
a dog. I knew, in my head, that this was nothing more 
than my hormones out of whack, nothing more than a mid-
30s clock-is-ticking thing. I knew it wasn't regular, 
and I knew it wasn't right.

I also knew I needed to come, and come a lot, or I was 
going to go nuts.

My horniness explains what I did when I got out of the 
shower. I went to get dressed, and initially I grabbed 
an entirely sensible outfit of long shorts and a summer 
blouse – and then I stopped. The last time I went to 
XXXFantasy, I had gotten a bunch of naughty clothes. 
Well... not naughty, just sexy. A little revealing, a 
little flirtatious, a little hot. Whatever. 

They had made me feel attractive when I was trying them 
on in the store, and right now I wanted, very much, to 
feel attractive. And that was why, when I went 
downstairs, I was wearing a tight green top that 
exposed a hell of a lot of cleavage, a push-up bra that 
showed my girls to advantage, a tight little black 
skirt that came halfway down to my knees, a tiny black 
thong that was more an insinuation of underwear than an 
actual garment, and a pair of black pumps that put a 
shimmy in my ass when I walked. At that moment, I loved 
the way I looked and I wanted to get looked at; I 
dressed accordingly. 

The only person likely to look at me for the next few 
hours was David...but I could live with that. I 
wouldn't like it, but I could live with it.

Charlie followed me down the stairs, and when we got to 
the bottom he shoved his head up under my skirt and 
gave me a sniff. I ruffed his ears and laughed, saying, 
"What's the matter, boy? You know I'm horny, huh? Can't 
hide anything from your nose, can I?" His answer was 
simple but perfectly eloquent: he forced his nose 
between my thighs and licked along my slit, right 
through my panties, and he didn't stop at one lick 
either. 

And suddenly I knew just exactly what I wanted to do: I 
wanted to come on my dog's tongue. A few seconds later 
I was seated on the sofa, exactly where I was the first 
time he licked me. My skirt was up around my waist, my 
panties were around my right ankle, and Charlie was 
going to town on me with utter abandon. I didn't know 
if he'd lick my tampon out and I didn't care. 

I should explain at this point that another way that 
dogs are better than men is that they have hesitation 
whatsoever about going down on you when you're in your 
period. In fact, they seem to love it – I guess there's 
more flavor for them or more smell or something, but 
whatever it is, dogs love the taste of menstruating 
pussy. At any rate I was writhing grinding against him, 
gasping, moaning, loving every second –

And then I heard the sound of David's door closing, and 
a moment later his feet on the stairs. This is going to 
sound awful, but it didn't even occur to me to stop. 
Why should it? This was nothing he hadn't seen, and I 
could get into no more trouble with him than I already 
was. Why should I deny myself the pleasure I needed?

Besides, I'd made a habit of checking every room I went 
into for hidden cameras, and the living room was clean. 
A girl can't be too careful when dealing with a monster 
like David.

And so that was how he found me a few seconds later, 
legs splayed, Charlie lapping furiously at my twat, my 
eyes half closed in passion and nearing another climax 
– my fifth of the morning! David stopped when he saw me 
and leaned up against the wall, a smirk on his face. 
"That's quite a sight," he said. "Don't let me 
interrupt."

"I won't," I gasped, spreading my legs wider and 
tilting my hips to give Charlie a better angle at my 
ass. In fact, I barely spared David any thought; I was 
focused on Charlie, and if David wanted to watch, he 
could watch. And watch was what he did, first from 
across the room, and then, a few moments later, from 
the couch where he sat down next to me for a closer 
look. I didn't try to hide anything, and I didn't try 
to keep quiet when I came. I moaned loud and long, 
swore a bit, trembled and stiffened, and all the while 
he just watch with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Charlie licked me for a while after my orgasm, but 
before I could come again he lost interest and thrust 
his head into David's hand for a petting. For a little 
while I sat, wordlessly after-glowing, not caring to 
cover myself while David petted the dog and looked at 
my pussy; eventually, though, I closed my thighs, 
pulled down my skirt, and looked at my son 
challengingly, as if daring him to say something.

He was grinning. "You look fantastic," he told me. "And 
not just because of what you were just doing. You're 
dressed really sexy. I like it a lot."

For a moment I went back and forth on how to answer. I 
was still fiercely angry at him, and the sense of 
betrayal hadn't faded – at the same time, though, I 
knew that what I had just done, the carnal pleasure I 
had just taken with Charlie, as well as what I had done 
earlier with Petra and even Brandy, was nobody's 
responsibility but my own. David may have pointed me in 
this direction, but I was walking it myself, and I was 
walking it because I suddenly needed to. That wasn't 
David's fault (if fault was to be assessed), it was 
mine. And so, after some mental see-sawing, I replied 
with a curt, "Thank you."

His grin faltered a bit at the chill in my voice, but 
it didn't disappear completely. "Still pretty pissed at 
me, huh?"

"If you have to ask the question it means you wouldn't 
understand the answer."

"Fair enough," he nodded, easing back in the sofa. "I 
deserve that."

"I don't understand why you did it," I said suddenly, 
the anger flaring up in me. "Why did you film us? And 
why did you throw it in my face like that? And don't 
give me that 'Because I could' crap because that isn't 
any kind of answer. I was doing what you wanted. I was 
doing what we wanted. I thought we had shared something 
really wonderful, like I had never shared with anyone 
before, and when you pulled that camera out –" I 
stopped then because I could feel tears coming, and 
even though they were tears of rage, not tears of 
weakness, I didn't want him to misinterpret anything. 
So I swallowed, got a grip, and went on while trying to 
stay calmer. "When you did that, you killed what had 
been growing between us. I hope you understand that."

"I know." He sounded sad, but I knew better than to 
trust his tone. "I am sorry, for what it's worth."

"I don't believe you."

He shrugged, but not dismissively – it was more of a 
hopeless kind of motion. Looking at the floor, his hand 
still petting Charlie's neck, he said, "I deserve that 
too. And I won't tell you I'd take it back if I could, 
because that would be a lie."

"Well thank you for the honesty! So why did you do it? 
Don't you understand that if you hadn't done it, I'd 
have given you what you wanted? I would have, David. If 
you'd have just left things where they were before you 
did it, if you'd have cuddled me and helped me clean up 
and told me how much you loved me, then I'd have been 
on my knees for you every day since then. Do you 
understand that?"

"Yeah I do."

"And if you'd have done that, treated me decently, then 
I would probably be in bed with you right now."

He didn't seem as surprised as I'd hoped. In fact, he 
didn't really seem surprised at all. "Yeah," was all he 
said.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that non-reaction, 
but my dander was up and I didn't slow down. "Oh, I 
wouldn't have asked, but I knew what you wanted. After 
what you said, after the evening we shared, I wanted to 
give it to you. You wouldn't have had to twist my arm 
very much."

"But now I will."

I nodded. "Oh, now you will, kiddo. I'm not stupid 
enough to think you're going to give up, but I'm going 
to make it as hard for you as I can. I'll beat you if I 
can. I want you to know and understand that."

"I understand."

"So why? Why did you do it?"

Now it was his turn to give me the infuriating line: 
"Mom, if you have to ask that question it means you 
wouldn't understand the answer."

I thought a harsh answer was going to come, but when I 
opened my mouth I laughed instead. It was a bitter 
laugh, but it was a laugh. "So, we're incomprehensible 
to each other."

He shrugged again. "I don't think we are. I just think 
we need to work at it."

"Oh, kiddo, I do not want to work at it."

"Yeah, I know. But I think I get you more than you get 
me." Some sharp retorts came to mind, but in all 
honesty it was terrifying how easily he wrapped me 
around his finger when he wanted to sex me up so I just 
stayed quiet. After a few seconds o silence, he added, 
"You do know that I could take you up to bed right now, 
right? If I wanted to. You couldn't stop me if I tried, 
and you couldn't say anything to anyone about it."

Now I was the one giving a nonchalant shrug. "And if 
you were going to do that you'd have done it by now. 
You don't need to remind me of my situation because I 
understand it perfectly well."

"What you don't understand is me."

"I guess I don't."

Charlie sniffed at my crotch again and I unashamedly 
opened my legs for him, but he didn't give me more than 
a cursory lick before lying down, tail thumping, 
looking at us expectantly. David looked down at him, 
then up at me. "So have you? With Charlie?"

"I tried," I admitted. "Didn't work. He knew what he 
wanted but not how to do it, and I couldn't coax him 
into position for long enough to make it happen."

"You need another pair of hands."

"Yeah. That I do."

"I'll be that pair of hands for you, mom."

A sardonic smile quirked my lips. "And now's the time I 
ask about the price."

"No price."

I laughed again. "David, with you there's always a 
price, so knock off the crap."

"No cameras," he told me. "And I keep my clothes on, 
100%. I don't expect you to touch me and I won't touch 
you any more than I have to to make it work. Not unless 
you want me to."

"I wouldn't want you to."

"I didn't figure. But there's the offer mom. Straight 
up. I know what you want and need and I'm willing to 
help you get I with no strings."

I looked at him appraisingly, but his face – and 
especially his eyes – looked honest enough. I wasn't 
going to flatter myself anymore than I could read a lie 
on my son's face, but I didn't even see the slightest 
hint of deception there. I didn't know what to make of 
that. "I...I'm not suite sure I buy that."

"And I don't blame you. But the offer stands open."

I bit my lip. My arms were crossed in front of me and I 
was looking at him like I did back when he was a tiny 
boy and I caught him in an absurd lie. "And what do you 
get out of it? I know you don't do anything nice for 
anyone without getting something out of it."

He smiled. God, that smile. It could melt ice...or an 
ice queen. "I know you won't believe it when I say it, 
but I meant every single word I said to you that night. 
Every single one. I meant it when I told you how 
beautiful you are, and I meant it when I told you how 
much I love you. I do want to see you happy, believe it 
or not."

"But you're willing to make me miserable to make it 
happen?"

He nodded, and this time I laughed cheerfully. "Oh 
kiddo, that doesn't make any sense. You don't make any 
sense."

"We'll see," he laughed back. And I'd be lying if I 
said it didn't feel good to laugh with my son. I didn't 
want it to, but he's my son – and he had made me feel 
like no other man ever had or, I was starting to think, 
ever could. He knew me and accepted me. He'd stabbed me 
in the back, yes, but I knew that he didn't condemn me 
for anything I'd done, and I knew that he would support 
whatever I did along those lines in the future. He'd 
use them against me, of course, but he wouldn't think I 
was a pervert, and he'd almost certainly help me if he 
could. 

"To someone who'd spent so much of her life denying who 
she was and what she wanted, that was a very, very 
powerful thing. "Anyway," he went on, "the offer is 
open and it will stay open. Whenever you want, I'll 
help you and Charlie. I'll try to get him used to it so 
he doesn't need my help – so you don't need my help. 
And I won't ask for a thing in return. Just think about 
it."

I nodded slowly. "I will."

He leaned in and put a loving kiss on my forehead, and 
then stood up. "I gotta take a shower and get going, 
I'm supposed to meet some friends."

"What's her name?"

He grinned teasingly. "What's the matter? Jealous?"

I stuck out my tongue. "You should be so lucky, kiddo."

His grin got even more teasing, and he said, "I'm 
playing some extreme Frisbee with Brandy and a few of 
her friends. You know, Brandy was really jealous that 
Petra's was the first pussy you sucked and not hers."

"Well, let her know hers will be next."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding."

"All right, I'll tell her. You know she still wants to 
get together with me and you." I gave him a "not gonna 
happen" look and he laughed. "OK, OK, just saying."

He headed out of the room, then paused and turned in 
the doorway. "When do you think your period will be 
done?"

I was in the midst of pulling up my itty bitty panties, 
but I stopped and gave him a surprised look. "How did 
you know I was on my period?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot. "Mom, come on. 
What other explanation could there have been for the 
last week?"

"You knew I was PMSing?"

"Well of course."

"Huh. I wish you'd have told me. I was miserable. 
Anyway, probably Thursday or Friday. Why?"

"Because you and I are going for dinner and dancing."

I paused. "We are?"

"Yep, and I want you to be able to enjoy it without 
worrying about bodily functions."

"Where do you think we're going?"

"Sophie's, downtown Minneapolis. Do you know it?"

In spite of myself, I felt my heart quicken just a 
beat. Sophie's was a 30's-style nightclub along the 
river with a fantastic view of downtown. It had swing 
and jazz bands, a romantically small dance floor, and 
some excellent French food. I'd never been there, but 
I'd heard fantastic things. 

I should explain. A fine dinner followed by dancing, 
especially to jazz, was one of my all-time favorite 
things to do. It always made me feel sexy, clever, 
glamorous – like I was in some wonderful old black and 
white movie. It made me feel like a princess. Tim had 
only taken me a couple of times – he loved eating at 
good restaurants, but he neither liked nor had a talent 
for dancing. Dancing isn't much fun with someone who 
obviously doesn't want to be there – but when you're 
with someone who loves it as much as you do, then it's 
as close as you could get to Heaven on Earth. Damn him, 
but David knew just the way to my heart. "I've heard of 
it," I said cautiously. "How are you going to get in? 
You aren't of age."

"I have a good fake ID," he replied with a laugh, and I 
didn't doubt him for a second. "Also, the maξtre d' 
owes me big time. Don't ask what for. I want you to 
wear the slinky little red dress you got, OK?" 

My head was still slightly whirling as I nodded. "OK."

"Friday night."

"OK."

He left me alone then, and it was only a few seconds 
before I started to wonder how he had, in a few 
seconds, defused my anger and made me actually look 
forward to a date on the town with him. My son was a 
horrifically slick young man. 

A couple of hours later I walked up to a table in front 
of Ma Bella Passiona, a new Italian place on the 
Nicollet Mall in downtown Minneapolis. I was still 
wearing that same revealing outfit, and I'm sure male 
eyes would have been on me if there hadn't been a 
parade of barely-dressed, tight-bodied 18 year old 
girls going up and down the sidewalk. Bitches. Anyway, 
I was the last of our little group to arrive, and there 
were jaws slack with amazement as I sat down in the 
open chair between April and Tammy. I had known most of 
these girls for 20 years or more, and none of them had 
ever seen me dressed this way. 

It was Stacey that spoke first. Stacey is a lawyer who 
works in the office of the Dean of the Law School at 
Hamline University. She's on her third husband (it's 
not that she's not a devoted wife, it's just she has 
terrible taste in men). She was so surprised she 
dropped her cigarette (she'd just taken up smoking 
again after a three year cold turkey period) and said, 
"Um...who are you and what have you done with Angela?"

I gave her my best innocent look. "What do you mean?"

Tammy was staring at my legs. "Girl, that's the 
shortest skirt I have EVER seen you in!"

I shrugged nonchalantly, though I was enjoying their 
reaction immensely. "Oh, I just thought what with it 
being spring and all..."

"OK, OK, OK, one strong breeze than that top is coming 
off," Jen pointed out with a grin. Jen's a tiny little 
thing, cute as a button, and she has the meanest, 
sharpest, and funniest sense of humor of any woman I 
know, not that you'd think to look at her angel-face. 
"Hennepin Avenue is one block thattaway."

I stuck out my tongue, but I laughed. Hennepin Avenue 
is a lot cleaner now, but it used to be notorious for 
biker bars, porn shops and hookers back when we were 
kids. Tom Waits even wrote a song about it. "I don't 
think I look that bad."

"No, not bad," Patty said, still looking surprised. 
"Different, but not bad."

"Who is he?" April asked.

"Who's who?"

"They guy you're having an affair with."

The girls all laughed, but I just shook my head. "Oh 
no, no other men for me," I said. "Tim and David are 
the only men in my life."

"Oh, Tim's obviously laying it to her good and 
regular," Jen said brightly, and we all had a good 
laugh about that. These girls were my best friends, 
aside from my sister, and we all knew each other's 
happinesses and frustrations – as far as I knew, I was 
the only one at the table with a dark secret. 

"No, he's still dead from the waist down," I replied. 

"So what prompts this?" Tammy asked.

April arched an eyebrow. "If I didn't know better I'd 
say you were looking for action."

"No, that's not it," I said. "I just decided I didn't 
need anyone's permission to feel attractive. I mean, 
I'm not a bad looking woman. I can pull this look off. 
So why shouldn't I? Why do I need my husband's say-so 
before I feel good about myself? Why do I need anyone's 
say-so?"

"Hear hear!" Stacey cried, ringing her fork against her 
iced tea glass. "That's the way to be!"

"Damn skippy," Patty nodded. "Sisters are doing it for 
themselves."

"You are woman, hear you roar," added Tammy.

April chuckled, but the little glance she shot at me 
told me she knew there was something more than I was 
telling. April is nothing if not ridiculously 
insightful, which has helped her career as a counselor 
and intimidated a lot of men over the years; she was 
still unmarried, and pretty much convinced she would 
always be so. She's had plenty of relationships, of 
course, but there's always something about her that 
chases men off eventually. "So...no big news?"

I opened my mouth to speak, and when I did I planned to 
say, "No," but at that moment the waiter came. He was 
this really cute dark-haired, dark skinned boy who 
looked like he hopped right out of a Greek fantasy; he 
couldn't have been a day over 19. He brought me a glass 
of water and stopped to see if we were ready to order, 
and when his eyes locked with mine... well, sparks 
flew. 

I knew it, he knew it... and the girls knew it too. I 
knew they were exchanging knowing looks, but I didn't 
care. I looked sexy, I felt sexy, and this was 
something I was reveling in. I took a quick look at the 
menu and got a chicken Caesar salad and a glass of 
white wine; as I did, the waiter stood over my shoulder 
checking me out, and I made sure to give him the best 
view I could. Once he'd gotten the order and we were 
alone again, the other five girls burst out laughing.

"I guess Tim and David need to move over," Jen 
observed.

"I'm not gonna fuck him," I said primly. "I'm just 
gonna look. I can look and not be cheating."

"So," April repeated, "no big news?"

I don't know what possessed me, except that my hormones 
were crippling my judgment and I knew that I could 
trust these five women with anything, because we had 
kept each other's secrets before. When Tammy had a 
brief affair shortly after her marriage; when Jen was 
struggling with how to deal with a lecherous boss who 
kept trying to involve her in embezzlement; when 
Stacey's first husband had turned out to be an abuser; 
when April got involved with a married man in the vain 
hope he would leave his emotionally frigid wife (only 
to have him run off with some 19 year old who worked in 
his office); when Patty got hooked on slot machines at 
the casinos and needed our help to break the chain. I 
hadn't told them about my brief affair years before, 
but I wasn't in the mood anymore to keep everything 
that was happening to me a secret. It's always more fun 
to tell. And so I was very matter of fact when I picked 
up my glass of water, took a sip and said, "I had sex 
with a woman."

I don't think I could have caused a bigger reaction if 
I'd have pulled a rabid skunk out of my purse and 
dropped it on the table. There was a pause and then an 
explosion of sound as five women started asking 
questions all at once. It was an insane Babel as I 
looked calmly from face to face, smiling a cocky little 
smile. Finally Jen got them all quieted down and said, 
"You're joking. You are joking. Right?"

"Nope, I went all the way with another girl," I replied 
cheerfully. 

"Well...when? How?" Tammy demanded.

"And why?" Stacey asked.

"I do think you owe us some details, Angela," April 
told me with a smile. Of all the women at the table, it 
was April who had the most experience on that side of 
things. She had gone to Bryn Mawr for her undergrad 
studies and had gone through a serious and lengthy 
lesbian phase before deciding that she really liked men 
after all. Other than that, I knew that Stacey had done 
a three-way with her second husband and a gal from his 
work, but I didn't think that the others had any 
experience in that line besides maybe smooching other 
girls in junior high. 

"Well OK, it went like this..." I told the story 
exactly as it happened, except I left Charlie and 
David's part in it, I made shopping for lingerie my 
idea, I combined the encounters with Brandy and Petra 
into one and...well, I guess I didn't really tell it 
exactly as it happened. What I said was that I had 
decided to get some sexy things and went to a little 
lingerie shop, where the sexy black salesgirl had 
seduced me in the changing room and then moved me to 
the stockroom for sex. I left out names and locations, 
and refused to answer any questions along those lines. 
The waiter came right at the end with our food, and he 
took a loooooong look at my legs (which I had 
conveniently placed so as to give him a good view), and 
when he was gone, the questions started up again.

Patty was first. "Angela...did you like it?"

I shrugged. "It was OK. I mean, it felt good. It wasn't 
unnatural or weird. She tasted good." (There were 
slightly disgusted moans from Tammy and Jen there.) "It 
was fun. I might do it again, but it's not like I'm gay 
now. I don't think I'm even bi. I think I just like sex 
and I'm willing to take what I can get." I paused, then 
added as an afterthought, "Without cheating on Tim, I 
mean."

"So this wasn't cheating?" Jen asked dubiously. "There 
needs to be a dick involved before it's cheating?"

"I think so," Tammy said with a shrug. "I'm not even 
sure it's cheating if you blow a guy who isn't your 
husband. I think there needs to be penetration."

"That seems pretty literal," Jen laughed. "I mean, you 
can run around sucking the high school football team 
and –"

"Can we please get back to the topic?" Stacey 
interrupted, holding up a hand. "Not that I don't want 
to talk about 50 teenage cocks, but we were discussing 
something else."

April chuckled. I knew she was feeling proud of herself 
for ferreting out my skeleton in the closet. If only 
she knew my real skeletons! "I think the bigger 
question is whether Tim knows."

I shook my head. "Nope, this is our little secret."

"How do you think he'd react?" Stacey asked. "I mean he 
might like it."

"Yeah, it might light a fire in his pants," Tammy 
nodded.

"I don't think a nuclear bomb could light a fire in 
that man's pants," Jen sighed. "He's a sweety, but he's 
not a lover."

"Unfortunately I think that's true," I replied. My tone 
was regretful, but at that point I didn't care all that 
much. For the first time since I got pregnant with 
David, I had options. It felt good to have options. "I 
don't know if we'll ever do it again. He seems to have 
lost interest in me."

"In that case it's definitely not cheating," Tammy said 
firmly. "I mean, my God, people have needs. That 
doesn't go away because you're married."

"Tell me about it," Patty said sourly, and I think we 
all instantly felt a twinge of guilt. Patty's husband 
Thomas (or Dumpface, as I like to call him) is, for 
lack of a better description, a useless, cold, mean, 
drunken porn addict who hasn't touched her for five 
years or more even though she's just about begged him 
on bended knee time and time again. 

"I'm sorry, Patty," Stacey said, squeezing Patty's 
hand. 

"Pat, you know what I'm going to say because I've been 
telling you this for years," Tammy said. "But if you're 
doing your best in your marriage the your husband – or 
your wife, let's be fair – just flat out refuses to 
take care of your bare needs, then you have every right 
to go outside and get it taken care of there. You don't 
stop being human just because you say I Do."

This was a longstanding topic of discussion in our 
group, especially given the...well, let's say the 
volatility of the romantic lives of some of the girls. 
The conversation took off on a swirl of tangents the 
way it does when good friends get together, and I was 
content to put my two cents in now and again. 

Of course, a lot of what happened around the table was 
unspoken, only noticed because we six are exquisitely 
attuned to each other after decades of sharing our 
triumphs and failures. Jen was riding high because, in 
spite of the economy, she'd just nailed down both a 
promotion and significant raise. Stacey was her usual 
bubbly self, indefatigable even in the face of growing 
evidence that her latest train wreck of a husband was 
cheating on her, possibly with a married couple of all 
things. April had finally gotten her life in order and 
was just happy that things were on a stable track for 
the moment. 

It was Tammy and Patty I was worried about, because 
they were both in the dumps and had been for a long 
time. For Tammy the cause was the same as it always had 
been: she's the mother of a severely autistic child. It 
wasn't simply that, of course, because she adores 
Martin, but caring for him is a 24-hour a day job that 
leaves time for very little else, and on top of that 
she has two other children, a husband, and a house to 
take care of. As much as I empathize with her (and I 
do, my God I do) I know I can't understand what she's 
going through. 

She's never come out and said it in these terms, but 
there comes a time in most everyone's life when you 
realize that the dreams you held as a teenager and 
young adult, of you lighting the world on fire and 
writing your name across the sky, simply aren't going 
to come true. For most of us that means getting smaller 
dreams, setting achievable goals that you can fulfill 
and be fulfilled by as you grow older in the life 
you've made for yourself. 

For Tammy though, and for other parents in her 
situation, the dreams died and there was nothing to 
replace them because the defining fact of her life, now 
and until the day either she or Martin died, was the 
fact of Martin's autism. She was and had to be the 
mother of an autistic child first and foremost, before 
everything. Martin was almost as helpless as an infant 
and required constant care, but unlike an infant there 
was no chance of him ever growing out of it. He was 
what he would be, and Tammy was what she would be, and 
the realization of that had been weighing on her more 
and more since Martin was diagnosed. 

I know that if she was given the chance to go back in 
time and abort her pregnancy with him she wouldn't even 
think about it – she loves him as much as she loves 
herself, if not more – but the fact is that his care is 
all she will accomplish for the rest of her life and 
she knows it. Every other dream has not only been 
deferred but canceled, and it's a lot to carry.

Patty, on the other hand, seemed to have something else 
going on besides her usual neglect by Thomas and the 
daily stress of being a grade school teacher. I don't 
think anyone else noticed, but several times I saw, out 
of the corner of her eye, that she was looking at me 
like she wanted to talk to me specifically, but of 
course nothing was said. 

Conversation kept drifting back to me and my sexual 
encounter with a woman, of course. I steadfastly 
refused to provide any details of who or where. Jen 
seemed curious, Tammy and Stacey kept making jokes 
about it, and April looked smug every time it was 
brought up. Only Patty seemed quiet about the whole 
thing. The biggest question was if and when I was 
planning a repeat performance, and whether it would be 
with the same gal or a different one. 

I just kept saying I was keeping my mind open to 
possibilities, which of course provoked speculation on 
the possibility, which I, of course, loved. For the 
first time since I got knocked up with Laurel, my sex 
life was the topic of conversation for something I'd 
done rather than not done, and I was eating it up.

In fact, I have to confess it was making me horny – 
well, hornier – and the fact that the gorgeous Greek 
waiter kept buzzing around the table and checking me 
out didn't help either. By the time lunch was over I 
was very itchy for another orgasm, so I gave myself one 
as I drove home. I didn't even stop playing with myself 
when the bus pulled up along side on the freeway...


May 19

The rest of the weekend flew by, as weekends do. 
Saturday night was dinner and cards with Tom's parents 
(very nice people) and Sunday was taken up with yard 
work with Tom, errands, and general business. I stayed 
in an orgasmic fugue much of the time, to be honest – I 
even sneaked a couple of rub-offs in my in-laws' 
bathroom, and Charlie licked me again on Sunday morning 
when he and I were the only ones home and awake. 

Patty called Sunday when I was out, leaving me a 
message to call her back. I tried but there was no 
answer, and I wondered what was on her mind. She 
obviously had something going on that she wanted to 
talk about, but I had no idea what. 

I spent Sunday night in heat – literally. I was so 
horny my whole body felt like it was on fire and I 
slept in just my flimsy little nightgown, without even 
a sheet. I kept drifting off to sleep and being 
awakened by erotic dreams of such power that I would 
lie, half in and half out of sleep, only awake enough 
to give myself an orgasm before drifting back to 
dreams. I think I must have come three or four times 
that night. 

Monday morning I fixed breakfast for Laurel and Tim, 
but my mind wasn't on it. I was thinking of sex, of 
every kind and variation. I was flushed, my nipples 
were hard inside my bra, my panties were soaked. By the 
time Tim left, David still hadn't stirred out of his 
room, so I went up to... check on him. I didn't knock 
before I opened his door – I just went right in. 

He was standing in the middle of his bedroom in his 
underwear and socks and nothing else, preparing to pull 
up his jeans. He could see on his face that he bit back 
a sharp response when the door opened, instead saying, 
"Yeah, I'm running late, sorry. I overslept."

My response was a saucy, conspiratorial smile as I 
walked across his bedroom and put a hand to his 
forehead. He was baffled as I tsk-tsked. "Uh oh," I 
said, "you're burning up."

"I am?" he asked, plainly puzzled. 

"Mmmm-hmmmm," I replied, looking meaningfully into his 
eyes. "You're much too sick to do anything but stay 
home and help Charlie fuck my brains out a couple of 
times today."

Understanding dawned, and he laughed. "Oh yeah, I am 
feeling pretty sick after all."

"I'll call the school," I told him with a wink, turning 
and heading for the door.

"Mom?" he said before I got there, and I turned. He met 
me as I did, his arms around me, pulling me to his 
warm, bare skin. I barely had time to tilt my head back 
before his lips were on mine. His tongue passed my lips 
and found mine, and in spite of myself I felt myself 
kissing back. I didn't want to give up that control to 
him, but he left me no choice whatsoever. He kissed me 
and I crumbled into him, and that was that. 

As soon as he knew I wasn't going to pull away, his 
hands were sliding under the waistband of my shorts to 
cup my bare ass in his hands, and before I knew it my 
arms were around his neck, holding him to me. The kiss 
lasted a long time, and before it was finished I was 
weak in the knees from the feel of his strength and his 
erection against my tummy. 

"I...um...I thought you weren't...going to touch 
me...unless I said it was OK," I said, quite 
breathlessly, as I stepped away.

"Not while you and Charlie are going at it," he told me 
with a smile. "But if you think I'm going another whole 
week without kissing you, and kissing you a lot, well, 
you're nuts."

"Oh," I said softly. The way he held me and kissed me 
left me a tough dizzy, and I didn't react nearly as 
firmly as I ought to have. I tried to think of 
something to say that would let me assert some control, 
but all I could come up with was, "Don't come 
downstairs until Laurel is gone."

Charlie fucked me twice that day, the first time just 
10 minutes after Laurel left for school. He got excited 
when I put on my dog fucking outfit, prancing and 
hopping with the tip of his thrilling red cock poking 
out from his furry sheath. David hovered close the 
first time, keeping Charlie where he was supposed to 
be, and this time Charlie hit his mark in just a few 
moments, sliding into me and beginning to fuck me in 
the hard, savage, perfectly animalistic way that only a 
dog can. 

It was blissful, wondrous, better than I remembered it 
being – and I remembered it being transcendent. This 
time I thought to use enough cushions and support that 
I was comfortable throughout the whole thing, and 
because I knew what to expect this time I enjoyed my 
first orgasm when the hammering started and then played 
with my clit for two more as soon as he settled down to 
fill me with his come. This time, with both of us more 
relaxed, he stayed tied with me for over 20 minutes. 

David was as good as his word – no cameras, no 
touching. I could see how badly he wanted to touch me, 
and how badly he wanted to be touched, but that wasn't 
what I wanted now. Wait, I have to correct myself 
because in all honestly I did want it. I remembered 
what his cock felt like in my hands, so thick and hard 
and alive; I remembered how it felt in my mouth, with 
his pulse against my tongue as he fucked my face like 
the slutty whore he had made me want to be; I 
remembered the taste and feel of his cum in my mouth as 
I swallowed it all and how delicious it was. I did want 
it. 

I even wanted him to fuck my mouth while Charlie was 
taking my bitch pussy, knowing that the feel of my 
canine lover's cock in one end and my son's cock in the 
other would give me an orgasm without my even touching 
myself. But I didn't do it. It was hard, but I stayed 
strong and made him keep his clothes on. I think I 
needed to do that to see if I could trust him after 
all, to see if he had really learned anything from his 
mistake. The way he treated me, adoringly and 
respectfully and lovingly, made me believe that he had.

The poor dear was so cute with his erection stretching 
his shorts. I know he wanted to come as he helped the 
dog fuck me, but he was a good boy and he kept his 
hands off of himself. It was only afterward, when 
Charlie had pulled out of me and licked me clean and I 
was lying in a pool of our juices and my sweat, that I 
gave my son a proud, happy smile, nodded at his bulge, 
and said, "You'd better go take care of that, kiddo."

He smiled back and kissed me on my perspiration-dappled 
brow. I suppose I was still pretty naοve, or maybe the 
mind-blowing doggy-fuck I'd just experienced had left 
me unable to think clearly, but I was expecting him to 
head up to his bedroom to relieve himself, or at least 
to the bathroom. In the light of day I can't quite 
imagine why I thought that, and he certainly didn't. 
Instead he pulled his shirt up over his head as he 
walked to the sofa, and with a quick motion shed his 
shorts and underwear. Before I knew quite what was 
happening he was perfectly naked and perfect, leaning 
back on the sofa with his ass on the edge of the 
cushion and his ideal cock hard and erect, proud in his 
hand.

"Ummmm...what are you doing?" I asked, feeling a bit of 
a twitter in my stomach. "I thought you said you were 
going to keep your clothes on..."

"While I was helping you and Charlie," he corrected 
smugly. I'm sure he noticed my eyes were riveted to his 
magnificent cock and the hand that was idly stroking 
it. "But you told me to do this."

"But I didn't think you'd do it right here in front of 
me," I said, suddenly nervous. Damn him but he knew 
what looking at him did to me, and he knew that if he 
started jerking off in front of me I wouldn't be able 
to look away...or keep myself from getting turned on. 
He had let me have control of the situation – or rather 
he had let me think I had control of the situation – 
but now he was taking it back again. I felt that old 
helpless sense coming back over me, that feeling that 
once more I had trapped myself, that once more I had 
been beaten in a game whose rules I didn't understand 
because my son kept changing them. 

David's response was to run his right hand up along his 
shaft, slowly pulling his foreskin up over the head 
while his left index finger teased the crease of his 
balls. He was watching my face, but I had eyes only for 
what he was doing to his beautiful cock. 

He started jacking for real, his strokes long and firm, 
and I felt my palms itch to be around him. I knew 
exactly how it would feel if I closed my fingers around 
his cock and felt his velvety skin and his warmth. I 
knew I could feel his pulse through it, and I knew his 
breathing would become rapider and shallower the faster 
I stroked and the closer I brought him to orgasm. My 
hands could feel it the same way an amputee can feel 
his phantom limb – as though his cock was a part of me 
now, and my body wanted it.

I don't know how I kept from touching myself as he 
masturbated. Even though I had just been thoroughly and 
savagely fucked by Charlie, I was already so horny 
again that it took everything I had to keep from 
putting my hand between my thighs and making myself 
come right alongside my son. I rubbed my thighs 
together as I watched and felt my sore, used, stretched 
pussy rub against itself, felt drizzles of dog cum 
oozing out and wetting my already-wet thighs. I wanted 
it, I wanted his cock in my hand, my pussy in my hand, 
my climax hitting me. 

I wanted to pull every last drop of David's cum out of 
his balls, watch it arc in the sunlight as he came, 
watch it spatter and spray on his belly, my hand, his 
cock, my arm, his thighs, my face. I wanted to smell 
his release as his semen flowed from him. I wanted to 
feel his need grow and grow under my touch – and then 
suddenly be fulfilled, his young, hard body tensing for 
a blissful instant before relaxing, spent with the 
rapture I had given him.

And David, of course, watched my face and read my 
desires there just as surely as if I was shouting them 
out. He knew what he was doing to me. He knew that I 
was feeling every stroke of his cock just as much as he 
did. He knew he was making me hungry for him, and all 
the hungrier because I had denied him to myself to show 
how much in control of the situation I was. He watched 
me and he saw that I wasn't in control of a damned 
thing, and I saw it too, and I couldn't stop. I 
couldn't take my eyes off of him as his strokes became 
faster, harder, as his cock got even stiffer and 
bigger. 

When he clenched his teeth and hissed, "I'm gonna cum, 
mom. I'm thinking about how hot you looked getting 
fucked by Charlie and it's gonna make me cum," I felt 
his words in the marrow of my bones. I saw the head of 
his cock go from pink to red to crimson to purple. I 
saw his fist fly. I heard his breath get ragged and 
gasping and short. I saw his eyes flutter closed. I saw 
his sweet, lovely balls clench against his teasing 
finger...

I saw him cum. I know I gasped when I watched his cock 
give that mighty jerk and a spray of glorious white 
jetted forth, and I know he heard my gasp and that it 
added force to his orgasm. I watched as his juices 
spattered his belly and his chest, both hard and 
glistening with the sweat he had given himself in his 
desire (it should have been me giving him that sweat, 
my mind whispered). 

I saw spurt after spurt and I licked my lips because I 
knew exactly how his cock felt in my mouth when it 
came, that perfect and indescribable sensation of 
triumph I had felt by making my own son orgasm for me 
with my lips and my tongue. I knew exactly how his seed 
would feel in my mouth and how it would taste as I 
swallowed, gout after hot gout flowing down my eager, 
open throat...

I didn't touch myself. I don't know how I didn't touch 
myself.

When he was done, he sat panting and watching me 
through half-lidded eyes as I watched the light through 
the window glisten on his liquid. Neither of us said a 
word. I don't think I could have trusted my voice to 
speak. The only sound in the living room was my 
beautiful baby boy's panting and Charlie licking 
himself in the corner. 

I spent the rest of the morning with David. There was 
nothing sexual about it. I took a shower and changed 
clothes (into something skimpy so he'd have something 
to look at – all right, there was a little bit sexual 
about it) and he helped me rearrange the den like I'd 
been wanting to do. We watched a little morning TV and 
we played a game of cribbage. 

We talked and laughed and teased. He made casual, 
lighthearted reference to me fucking Charlie and I made 
casual, lighthearted reference to him jerking off. Once 
he surprised me by kissing me when I wasn't expecting 
it and I simply melted into his arms and let him kiss 
me as his hands and mine roamed over each other's 
bodies. It was comfortable. It was easy. I was as at 
home with him as I could be with anyone in the entire 
world, and he was the closest thing I had to a human 
male lover. 

I know, and I knew then, that such familiarity was 
dangerous for both of us, because he would assume it 
would be permanent and it made my boundaries, the ones 
that I needed to keep, weaker and less certain. But I 
had never in my adult years had a lover I could simply 
relax and spend time with (my earlier indiscretion 
years before had been sex only, little talk) and it was 
a very, very seductive thing to relax with a lover and 
simply enjoy the intimacy that can only be earned 
through the openness and honesty of sex. It was wrong 
and stupid, I know, but it felt too good for me to deny 
myself.

I was just making lunch (nothing fancy, just 
sandwiches) when I got a surprise phone call from 
Patty. She was at work on her break, sitting in her car 
as she drove around aimlessly, and I could tell by her 
voice that she needed to talk. She didn't take long to 
get to the point: "Angela, I'm thinking about having an 
affair."

So far it was hardly a surprise. Like I mentioned, her 
husband Dump-face was the world's biggest waste of 
carbon and he didn't deserve her presence at all, much 
less her fidelity. I and the other girls had told her 
as much for years, so my response was pretty rote when 
I said, "I think you should, Patty. I think you should 
leave him, in fact. Who's the temptation?"

"A new teacher here at school," she replied.

"Huh...well, workplace affairs can be dangerous. At 
least that's what I've read. Not like I've ever had a 
workplace..."

"I know."

"On the other hand, if you did do it, you've have a 
perfect excuse for your absences."

"I know."

There was something still bothering her, I could tell, 
something that hadn't come out. I figured I knew what 
it was. "He's married, isn't he?"

"No," she replied. "And it's a she."

Apparently I was wrong about what was bothering her. 
"She? You mean..."

"Yeah."

I bit my lip and sat down on the kitchen chair. "OK," I 
said, "I think you need to start a little closer to the 
beginning."

And so she did. The other teacher was named Maria. She 
was a 26 year old woman from Texas who had just moved 
up here and took an open teacher slot. She was a real 
lesbian, no men at all, and there had been a spark from 
the first time she and Patty met. Patty had spent the 
whole school year trying to ignore it, and mostly she 
succeeded. Except...

"Two weeks ago we were staying late to work on a 
project. I don't even know how it happened, but... 
well, we did some stuff. I was in it before I even knew 
it."

That explained her relative silence during the lunch 
when I'd brought up me and Petra...which in turn 
explained why she was calling me now. "How far did you 
go? Do you mind my asking?"

"Kissing," she said hesitantly. "And touching. Um, 
under the clothes touching."

"Upper or lower body?"

"Upper. She...well, she wanted to do lower but I 
stopped her."

"And how do you feel about it now?"

A long pause, and then, "She likes me, Angela. She 
likes me just how I am. She doesn't tell me I need to 
lose weight. She doesn't tell me she hates the gray in 
my hair or the wrinkles around my eyes. She doesn't 
tell me I'm not attractive. She likes me for who I am."

I knew how powerful that allure was, given that David 
loved me for who I was (I suppose he loved me, anyway) 
and he could wrap me around his finger with a little 
gesture. Patty was overweight and had been since 
shortly after she got married to Dump-face. She ate too 
much because she was miserable and she was miserable 
because she ate too much, and the wheels on the bus 
went round and round. Dump-face, the cause of her 
misery, never missed an opportunity to beat her with 
that stick either. To have someone want her for who she 
was, to have someone accept her, had to be enormous. 

But. "Are you sure it's not just... well, an 
infatuation? Given that she's nice to you?"

"I've thought of that. It's that that's kept me from 
doing anything until now...that and the fact that she's 
a she. And... if I'm being honest with myself, I know 
that's part of it. I'd be a liar if I said it wasn't. 
But that's not all of it. The first time we met, at the 
beginning of the year, she shook my hand and I felt 
sparks between us. Honest to God, Angela, I felt sparks 
like she'd scuffed her feet on the carpet. I've never 
felt that with anyone else, ever."

We talked for another 20 minutes until her lunch break 
was over, and it all boiled down to the last thing I 
said to her before she hung up: "You don't get points 
for being miserable, Patty. You get one fucking life 
and if you don't make yourself happy in it then you die 
regretting what you didn't do. I've decided I don't 
want to die regretting what I didn't do. That's the 
only piece of advice I have for you."

There was another long pause. "I guess that's all the 
advice I really need."

I smiled hugely and felt a surge of pride in Patty like 
I hadn't felt in years. "Call me in a day or two. Let 
me know how it goes."

"I will."

"Good luck, Patty."

"Thanks Angela. For everything."

I was so happy when I hung up that I could have 
exploded, and I took a moment to reflect on the 
strangeness of it all. David had caught me with Charlie 
and blackmailed me into seeing Brandy, which had led to 
my seeing Petra, which had led to Patty getting the 
courage to do something she wanted and needed to do. A 
butterfly's wings in the Amazon...

"What are you looking so happy about?" David asked 
cheerfully as he strolled into the kitchen looking for 
the sandwich I'd told him I'd bring him a half hour 
before.

I smiled back at him, a beaming smile that lit up the 
room and put an answering smile on my son's face, even 
if he didn't know why. Standing, I took him in my arms 
and said, "Shut up and kiss me."

He kissed me. Boy did he kiss me, and I kissed him, and 
before it was done my shirt was up around my neck and 
my tits were in his mouth and it would have gone a lot 
further had I let it. But I didn't let it, as much as I 
wanted to at that moment. I halted his hands when they 
went south of the border and he accepted me halting him 
with a smile. "One of these days," he whispered, 
"you're not going to stop me."

At that moment, in my lovely son's strong arms, feeling 
adoration and trust, love and lust, sweetness and 
softness and his perfect male strength, I thought he 
might be right. I thought he might be right sooner than 
he knew. But I barely admitted that to myself, and I 
didn't admit it at all to him. Instead I swatted his 
ass hard enough to make him jump, laughed, and told 
him, "Eat your sandwich. I feel a need to get fucked by 
a big, wonderful dog again this afternoon."

 We ate together, and when I was done I went to dress 
in my dog-fucking clothes again. Charlie was with me 
and he got positively frantic when I picked up the 
ugly, garish shirt. He knew what it meant now and he 
loved it. He almost knocked me down then and there, his 
arms wrapped around my waist and his rear end already 
humping. I can't even tell you how thrilled I was to 
see that he wanted me as much as I wanted him!

"Let's see how much he's learned," David said as he 
watched me dress. "After all, you don't want to have me 
around all the time when you're doing this."

"I like having you here," I told him honestly at least 
– at least it was honest for the moment, since I'd 
noticed that my feelings tended to be rather changeable 
of late. "I love sharing this with someone who 
understands."

He smiled and squeezed my hand. "What I mean is you 
don't want to only be able to do this when I'm around 
and nobody else is. You want to be able to do this 
whenever you have the chance and the desire. You want 
to be able to do this by yourself."

My eyes got a little distant as I thought about getting 
dog cock every day while the kids were at school and I 
nodded. "Yeah, I do. I definitely do. But that doesn't 
mean I don't want to share this with you."

"I know, mom," David replied, squeezing my hand again. 
"I love sharing this with you, just like I loved you 
watching me this morning." I blushed and he laughed. 
"No, don't be shy about it. Do you have any idea how 
many times I've done that thinking about you?"

I shook my head and grinned in spite of myself. 
"No...how many?"

He grinned back. "Two or three times a day for the last 
seven or eight years..."

"That's a lot of jerking off."

"You're a lot sexy."

"You're a flatterer."

"Is my flattery working?"

"You know it is."

"Well in that case," he laughed, "I'll keep it up. Now, 
on your hands and knees like a good bitch and offer 
that sweet little cunt to Charlie. We'll see if he can 
learn a new trick."

Once more I thrilled to his vulgar and demeaning words. 
It was so strange! I wanted and needed his respect and 
(because he was my son) his obedience. I needed him to 
understand and acknowledge that I was the parent, the 
authority, the power. And yet when he spoke to me in 
that way, his voice low and rough and erotic, his words 
coarse and crude, sexual and humiliating, I crumbled 
inside. My knees got week and my pussy spasmed. It was 
like an injection of pure sexual desire into my veins. 
I did exactly as I was told. I couldn't do anything 
else.

David moved to assist, but this time Charlie needed 
only a little guidance. In a flash he was behind me, 
legs tight around my waist, holding me in his firm 
grip. He was a little off in the angle but it was 
nothing I couldn't correct by myself. David simply 
stood by and watched as I reached back with my right 
hand and nudged my dog into place, and then a little 
further back. My hand closed around his furry sheath 
and I felt his cock inside, thin and hard; I began to 
stroke him, hard and fast the way David had –

And he was in me. Sweetly, swiftly, fully in me. David 
wasn't helping; David didn't need to help. I knelt, ass 
in the air, legs splayed wide, chest and one arm on the 
floor while the other hand held to his leg to keep him 
from pulling out too soon. I felt him growing in me 
with each thrust, felt him spreading my pussy (my 
bitch-cunt, as David would say) and we were moving 
together in a way that was becoming wonderful and 
natural for both of us. 

How can I tell you what that moment meant? I was 
together with my lover for the first time alone and 
unaided. This was the first time, the very first time, 
that we were together as two becoming one. I know 
how...sappy what sounds, but that's the thing that sex, 
good sex, does in way that nothing else can: when you 
open yourself and give yourself, you share your soul, 
you allow the other to take a part of what's you and 
make it theirs, and you take something from them and 
make it yours. You can laugh to think that I found that 
with Charlie, a dog, but I know I did – and for the 
first time, we did it alone, an expression of our 
mutual desire, with no other aid or interference. It 
was perfect.

David stayed nearby in case he was needed, but he 
wasn't – not until near the end, when Charlie tried to 
pull out when his knot was still just a bit too big. 
David held him in, but even then I had my hand on 
Charlie's leg, and I thought that my verbal protest was 
enough to strop him without my son coming to my aid. 

When it was done and I had laid for a long while 
luxuriating in the afterglow, I took off my clothes and 
asked David to wash them and the old bed sheet while I 
got cleaned up (there is no way you can just go about 
your business after getting fucked by a dog – you're 
grimy with sweat, saliva, fur, his and your juices, and 
you smell like a monkey house, to put it bluntly). 

After my shower I simply strolled around the house 
naked until almost the time that Laurel was due to come 
home. I didn't usually do that, but it felt right at 
the moment – and besides, I knew David would like it. 
It was a sign of the fact that trust was growing 
between us again, and he knew that without being told. 
He also knew it when I told him that it was all right 
if he took off his clothes as well, and he did with a 
loving smile that made both the mother and the woman in 
me happy. 

We cuddled together for a while on the sofa in the den, 
watching TV and feeling our skin touching. I told him 
to keep his hands in a respectable place and he did, 
draping his arm around my shoulder in a way that would 
have been perfectly acceptable in public, but it was 
still a quiet and lovely moment for both of us. 

David was up in his bedroom and I was wearing a frumpy 
tee shirt and an ordinary pair of shorts when Laurel 
got home. She took one look at me and broke into an 
enormous grin. "Mom! You look crazy happy! Did you have 
a good day?"

"Honey, I had the best day I've had in ages. How was 
yours?"


May 22

The week passed in a blur. I ended up being busier than 
I expected because the water heater broke, a bird flew 
into one of our windows and shattered it (and itself, 
the poor thing), my sister Sue needed help with a major 
landscaping project (landscaping and gardening are much 
more Tim's line than mine but I pitched in) and I 
started planning my big summer project: I was planning 
on painting and wallpapering the whole house because it 
had been years since I'd done it and it was beginning 
to get dingy... plus I wanted a change. I felt like the 
drab neutral colors I'd used before just didn't fit the 
new me that was coming into being, and I wanted 
something brighter and more vibrant. Tim approved 
wholeheartedly because he loved me and he knew that 
projects like this made me happy. Tim loves to see me 
happy.

Of course, Charlie and I didn't see a day go past 
without him taking me. He knew now what the hideous 
shirt and crotchless jeans meant – and he knew that I 
kept them on the top shelf of the closet in my bedroom. 
When he was horny he would do the most adorable thing: 
he would try to coax me into the bedroom, and then he 
would sit by the closet door looking up and whining. It 
was just about the sweetest thing I could imagine, and 
even if I had wanted to resist him it would have melted 
my heart. Of course, I had no desire at all to resist 
him! 

Aside from being truly well fucked on a regular basis 
for the first time in my life, things were settling 
down. David was behaving like a real gentleman, far 
better than he had in the past, and seemed to be happy; 
he did steal a few passionate kisses from me at odd 
times, but that was all right. He behaved himself 
otherwise, so I couldn't complain...and he was a 
fabulous kisser. My period ended on Wednesday, and with 
it went most of the hormones that had made me so 
ridiculously horny over the previous few days. I was 
still horny, don't get me wrong, but I could think 
about something other than sex for ten minutes at a 
stretch. 

Patty called me on Thursday evening, shortly after 
dinner. The first thing out of her mouth was, "Well... 
we made a date."

"Patty! Congratulations!" I enthused. "That's 
fantastic, tell me more!"

"I talked to her yesterday," she went on. "We sat down 
and had a long talk and she said what she wants 
is...well, a relationship. She asked if I thought I 
could see myself having a relationship with a woman."

"And you said?"

"I said I thought I could see myself having a 
relationship with her. I mean, the average woman, no, 
but her? Yeah. Definitely."

"And she said?"

"She asked me to dinner on Saturday."

"Her place?"

"No, that's moving a little too fast. We're going to 
Luce."

"My favorite place. It's very romantic."

"Yeah, I know. This...this feels weird, Angela. But it 
feels good too. I'm thinking about it constantly. I'm 
thinking about her constantly. I'm trying not to get 
too excited but this feels so right to me."

"Do you think it will feel right in a month or two?"

"How should I know?"

"Good point. Going to tell Dumpface?"

"What? Like...now? That I'm going on a date?"

"Yeah, with a woman that is a much better person that 
he is?"

"Christ no. Are you crazy?"

I laughed. "I was only partly kidding. Can you imagine 
the look on his face?"

"Ugh. I'd rather not."

"I know. So, go and have a great time. Do you have a 
cover story if you end up staying the night at her 
place?"

"Well...I was hoping you could be it."

"Sure, I'm terribly sick and I need my good friend 
Patty here by my side. It's not like Dumpface will even 
notice you're gone, he'll be out drinking all night and 
he'll sleep until three Sunday afternoon."

She laughed. "You're right about that. I...I'm nervous. 
What if I don't like sex with her?"

"Do you like her?"

"Oh my God yes."

"Then you'll like sex with her. Just relax, Patty. If 
it happens it happens. When it does, you'll know what 
to do. Just follow your heart."

"What's it like? With women?"

"Well speaking from my vast reservoir of a single 
experience, I'd say it's good. I mean it's an orgasm. 
Orgasms feel good."

"If you say so. I can't remember, myself."

"Well trust me on this one. She'll know what she's 
doing and she'll make you feel wonderful. I mean, there 
are other...well, physical aspects, like penetration, 
but there are appliances that can give you that same 
sensation."

"No, I know that, but...I mean, what's it like?"

I paused for a moment before speaking, then said, "It's 
a body, a human body. It's someone with skin and sweat 
and nerves that can feel good. It's someone who 
breathes, who cries, who hopes. And if it's someone you 
love – really, really love and who wants to be with you 
for you, because they love you and want you to feel 
good as much as you want them to feel good – then it 
will be wonderful."

"I know I don't have that with Thomas. I know that's 
why our sex was terrible before we stopped having it. 
But you have that bond with Tim. You two adore each 
other. Why isn't your sex good?"

"Ok, that's not all that's involved," I admitted. "You 
have to have that spark that you talked about. Let me 
ask you a question, and I need you to be honest. When 
you see Maria, do you think about jumping her bones?"

She laughed. "I think about jumping her bones, her 
cartilage, her soft fleshy parts..."

"Especially the soft fleshy parts."

"Oh yeah."

"And when you think about it, does it turn you on?"

"Yeah...it does. I mean when I think about doing...you 
know, putting..."

"Eating pussy?"

"Yeah, that. When I think about that with just any 
woman, even like Angelina Jolie or someone who's just 
gorgeous, it doesn't do anything for me. It turns me on 
about as much as licking an envelope. But when I think 
about it with Maria...God. It makes my mouth water."

"Because it's her."

"Yeah, because it's her."

"Then I think Saturday night, you're gonna have the 
best sex you've ever had."

"Really?"

"She's going to go nuts pleasing you and you're gonna 
go nuts pleasing her and yeah, it'll make steam shoot 
out of your ears."

"It's not my ears I want steam to shoot out of."

"It'll make steam shoot out of there too."

We talked for another half an hour, mostly about her 
date, what she should wear, how she should act, all the 
stuff that when you're a teenager you just assume will 
get easier but never does, and by the time we were done 
she was calmer and more eager. I told her to call me 
sometime Sunday and tell me how it went; I didn't tell 
her, but I had a feeling that she might just be calling 
with a whole new perspective. The prospect of that made 
me incredibly happy – Patty is an absolute sweetheart 
who deserves so much better than the worthless husband 
she'd been saddled with, and if this was her finding 
someone who would treat her as well as she deserved 
then I was 100% for it.

David found me later that evening when I was in the 
basement straightening things up. It was just him and I 
down there (Tim was upstairs in Laurel's room helping 
her with her homework as usual) and the stairs were 
notoriously creaky so there was no danger of us being 
surprised when he came up to me and pulled me in for a 
deep kiss.

I let him kiss me (and it was a damned good kiss 
because he's a damned good kisser) but it didn't carry 
me away the way it would have just a day before because 
my period was done and my hormone levels were back to 
something approaching normalcy. I even managed to stop 
his hands when they got busy on my breasts; he laughed 
at me when I did and I know he thought I was being 
silly, but he let me have my way...for the moment. 

"So, ready for our big date tomorrow?" he asked, 
whispering the words into my neck as he kissed me 
there.

"I guess," I said a little nervously. Now that I was 
thinking straight I was once again focusing on the 
dangers of this familiarity with my son rather than the 
benefits. Nothing had changed about him being able to 
force me to his will, but I knew now that he didn't 
want me that way – he wanted me to come to him 
willingly and change into the kind of woman he wanted. 
I suppose I could have put my foot down and told him I 
didn't want to go and he probably would have let me get 
by with it. But this was him being nice, and given that 
I had experienced both him nice and him pissed off, I 
didn't want to piss him off. 

Besides, there were worse things in the world than 
dinner and dancing...even if the dinner and dancing 
were both very romantic and with your son who wanted to 
screw your brains out. He knew my walls were up and I 
knew he was determined to get through them. I didn't 
even doubt that he'd eventually succeed in one way or 
another unless something happened in the mean time to 
redirect him. It was just a lot nicer, and a lot safer, 
having him slowly burrowing under those walls than 
ramming his way through them. 

"You guess? Mmm, such enthusiasm," he chuckled, 
brushing my hair off my face. "I have reservations for 
eight o'clock."

"You know, I think your father might raise some 
questions about you and me leaving dressed up for a 
night on the town...especially in that dress you want 
me to wear. That thing exposes a lot more than it 
covers."

He shrugged. "Let him."

I shook my head firmly, but my voice was more pleading 
than I meant it to be when I said, "No, now don't be 
that way. He's your father and my husband and I love 
him very, very much."

"In spite of the fact that he doesn't give you what you 
need?"

"Yes, in spite of that." I took a fistful of his shirt 
and squeezed. "Please, David."

I looked for a long heartbeat into my eyes, and once 
more I could see the cruelty there of the cat playing 
with the mouse and I feared he would say no – but then 
he broke into a broad smile and laughed. "Come on mom, 
you didn't really think I'd have dad see us like that, 
did you?" I managed a smile in return, but it was 
shaky, and he went on. "No, I have it figured out. I'll 
dress at a friend's house. You'll leave here about 
seven, dressed normal, and say you're going out with a 
couple of the gals."

"In that slinky little red thing? He won't believe 
that."

"The slinky little red thing is already in the trunk of 
your car," he told me, kissing my nose with a smugness 
that was both charming and infuriating. "You'll find a 
place to change and meet me in the lot of the park and 
ride at Louisiana and 394 a little after 7:30. Dad and 
Laurel will probably be in bed by the time we get home, 
but just to be sure I'll get back an hour after you do. 
Satisfied?"

I was, but I frowned. He'd put a lot of thought into 
this...and that meant he had something planned, which 
in turn meant I needed to be worried. "Seems like you 
think of everything."

"I just want me and my girl to have a good time, that's 
all."

I sighed. I could feel the control I'd had earlier, or 
thought I'd had, ebbing fast. Once more he was carrying 
me away faster than I could cope with the changes and 
it was scaring me. "You know I'm not your girl, no 
matter what. I'm always going to be your mother."

He chuckled softly and kissed me on the forehead, then 
pulled me close. "You're both," he told me, his voice a 
soft basso rumble in his chest. "You just don't know it 
yet."

I pulled away and muttered something about needing to 
do something upstairs. As I was hurrying for the 
staircase, David said, "And mom? Don't wear any panties 
underneath that dress, OK?"

I sighed, but I nodded.


May 23

Friday passed in a fog. For the first time in days I 
didn't wake up needfully horny, and for the first time 
in days poor Charlie didn't get any pussy. I was 
worried when I got out of bed, and I was even more 
worried by the time David gave me a surreptitious wink 
as he headed out the door. I kept busy all day long 
with various chores and errands, but my mind was barely 
on what I was doing. 

The thing is, what David had planned for me tonight, 
whatever it was, was an enormous step for us. I was 
sure he was planning to try to take us to some new 
physical level, and yes I was worried about that, but 
that was only a small part of it. I'd gotten used to 
him pushing me that way, just like I'd gotten 
accustomed to the idea that he would eventually get me 
in bed unless I figured some way to stop him (OK, 
somewhat accustomed to the idea). But this was 
different – this was public.

It wasn't just that there was the chance that someone 
we knew might see us, although that chance existed; the 
Twin Cities have almost three million people in them 
and the odds of anyone you know being at a particular 
place across town at the same time you are remote. If 
someone did spot us, it would be...awkward, to say the 
least, but as long as he kept his hands from being 
really busy in public then it wouldn't be catastrophic. 
No, the thing was that this was David's way of pushing 
me from being his mother to being his girlfriend, or 
his lover, or whatever he thought of me as.

See, up until now everything we'd done had been in the 
privacy of our own home. Yes he'd recorded some of it 
but as far as I knew he'd kept those recording to 
himself. But this would be taking it out into the wider 
world, with him treating me not as his mother but as a 
date, as a woman he wanted to sleep with and doing so 
in a way that would push us toward that. Brandy said he 
liked to show his women off, and I knew that in that 
tiny dress with no underwear on, he would be showing me 
off indeed – and that would make me even more "his 
woman" than I already was, at least in his mind. The 
more of this kind of thing we did, the harder it would 
be to find a way to stop him going that last step with 
me and taking me to bed – if stopping him was even 
possible at this point, which I wasn't sure of. 

And besides that, there was another aspect of all this 
to consider. David had toyed with me more than once 
about doing something to me in such a way, or at such a 
time and place, that Tim would find out; there was a 
bare chance of me explaining my involvement with 
Charlie to my husband, but if he found out what I had 
done, and was still doing, with our son... well... it 
wouldn't be pretty. So far David had been refrained 
from that and even passed it off as teasing, but I knew 
that he wasn't actually teasing. 

He did want Tim to find out, at least on some level. I 
knew it thrilled David to no end to realize that he 
could bring me to levels that his father, my husband, 
never even approached, and I knew that he would love to 
rub Tim's face in it – even if it meant the end of our 
family. Sometimes I thought he would love to do it even 
if it meant the end of me. Taking me out on dates, 
romancing me, doing things with me besides coercing me 
into sex – these were all things that would, to David, 
make me more his woman and less my husband's. And 
nothing whatsoever good could come of that. 

So...what? I could pretend to be sick, but I knew David 
wouldn't believe that, and it would only be postponing 
the inevitable. He had his head set that he was going 
to take me out on a date and show me off and so he 
would; at least this was it was something that I would, 
theoretically, enjoy. If I defied him or tried to 
wriggle out of it he might well decide to take me 
someplace I'd hate and truly humiliate me there, or 
worse. Yes there was the kernel of trust growing 
between us but I wasn't fool enough to believe that he 
could be reasonable – not when my hormones weren't 
raging, that is. He was playing nice because I was 
playing along; if I pissed him off then he'd drag me 
kicking and screaming. 

So. I checked the trunk of my car and sure enough the 
dress and a pair of red hooker heels were there, just 
like he'd said. I hadn't actually looked at it since 
almost right after I bought it, and when I saw it again 
I was shocked at how tiny it was. It had long, full 
sleeves, but that was the only modest thing about it. 
It was cut to cling to the body in the same way paint 
clings to a house. Down below it would come down to 
maybe, maybe five inches below my ass, such that I was 
going to need to be extremely careful when I moved or I 
would show the whole world my lady bits. But worse than 
that was the top – it had a huge plunging oval neckline 
that would, I hoped, cover my nipples, but there was no 
way it covered much more than that. 

To add insult to injury, the neckline was a sort of 
halter thing that was held closed by a metal oval, and 
below it was another oval cutout that would come down 
below my navel – and incidentally show the sides and 
bottoms of my tits. A flat-chested girl wouldn't look 
so conspicuous in it, but I'd stand out a mile... so to 
speak. And any sudden movement and I'd pop out of it 
like a stripper out of a cake.

He was definitely planning to show me off.

As the day wore on I kept getting more and more nervous 
so that by the time Laurel came home I was a wreck. She 
asked me what was going on and I gave her some babble 
about Patty being in trouble in her marriage, which was 
true but irrelevant. Tim got home a bit later than 
usual, especially for a Friday, but he kissed me on the 
cheek and told me to have a good time, assuring me that 
he and Laurel could entertain each other while I was 
out. Part of me wanted him to irrationally forbid me to 
go out that night, but of course it didn't happen, and 
I went out just as my son planned.

I changed my clothes in the bathroom of a McDonalds and 
did my makeup in the mirror there. I did make myself 
look as good as I could, but I was nervous enough that 
I wasn't sure how good I actually wound up looking. I 
was trembling as I headed for the meeting with David 
and so distracted I very nearly sideswiped a minivan; 
it heeled over hard to get out of my way and the 
driver, a woman about by age, made a very rude gesture 
that I deserved. By the time I got to the parking lot 
where I was meeting David, I was a wreck.

His car was there, and I pulled up next to him. My 
hands were shaking as I turned off the ignition, but by 
then David was at my door. He was wearing a suit – a 
new one, not one that I'd even seen before – that made 
him look at least 23 or 24 years old...and not only 
that, made him look devilishly handsome. It was dark 
gray and cut immaculately, and he had a white 
handkerchief in the coat pocket. His black shoes were 
shined like onyx. 

He was wearing a sharply pressed robin's egg blue shirt 
and a white and black tie that looked fabulous. He 
opened my door like a gentleman and offered me his hand 
with a smile on his face. I just stared at him, too 
shaken to rise, but after a moment he gently took my 
hand and guided me to my feet. "Well," he said softly, 
looking at me with adoring eyes, "You look... amazing, 
mom. You really do. You're gorgeous."

"Th-thank you," I stammered. "Um...so are you..."

He laughed. "Oh, you like the suit? It's Armani."

I goggled. "Where did you get the money for an Armani 
suit?"

His smile was conspiratorial. "The money wouldn't have 
been a problem – it was on sale – but I didn't buy it. 
Grandpa Sievertsen did."

My goggle got gogglier. "My FATHER bought you that 
suit?"

He laughed as my astonishment. "I told him I needed 
some advice on wooing a slightly older woman of 
refinement and taste."

"I can't believe this."

"And he said that I needed to dress sharp if I wanted 
to get the attention of such a woman. He took me 
shopping and bought me this suit."

I felt my world spinning and demanded, "My FATHER 
bought my SON a suit to help my SON seduce his MOTHER, 
my FATHER's DAUGHTER?" 

David's smirk would have been infuriating if I hadn't 
been so dizzy. "That's the size of it, yes."

I made a couple of incomprehensible sounds, then asked, 
"Did you tell him who your date was with?"

"Somehow that slipped my mind," David replied dryly. 
"He was all for me trying to bang a 35 year old woman, 
but I think he wouldn't have liked it so much if he 
knew it was you."

"I don't believe this. I just don't believe this."

David leaned in and whispered, "He also gave me some 
great advice on how to get you in the mood."

My eyes clenched tightly shut and I hoped the ground 
would split open and drop me into a deep, dark place. 
Instead, what happened was David gently took my keys 
from me, guided me around to the passenger side and 
seated me, then climbed behind the wheel. In moments we 
were heading toward downtown Minneapolis, its tall 
towers glittering in the late-evening sun. The silence 
seemed oppressive to me, though my son didn't seem 
bothered by it in the least. After a few minutes he 
said, "It's going to be a beautiful night. Warm, clear, 
a little breeze..."

"Good," I returned, my voice tight and clipped. At 
least that way I wouldn't freeze in this ludicrously 
revealing dress. That was something.

He smiled and took my hand in his. "Mom, relax. This is 
dinner and dancing. That's it. We're just going to go 
have a good time. How fresh can I get in a crowded 
nightclub?"

"I don't know. How fresh can you get in a crowded 
nightclub?"

He laughed. "Well I guess we'll find out, won't we? But 
I want you to have a good time, all right?"

"All right." It wasn't.

We crossed the Mississppi and turned into the area just 
across the river from downtown. It's always been an 
intriguing area for me because it's a mix of so many 
different things: business and professional, upscale 
and poor, art galleries and dive bars, neighborhood 
places that had been there for 50 years and dance clubs 
that had just sprung up in the last month to cater to 
students at the nearby University of Minnesota. It had 
always seemed to me the sort of place where anything 
might happen...and now, tonight, something would. I 
just didn't know what."

We pulled up in front of Sophie's. It had a huge silver 
awning and it looked exactly like something out of a 
1930s movie about glamorous people in New York doing 
glamorous things. The red-suited valet opened my door 
(and got a major league eyeful when I navigated my way 
out of the car in that dress – well you try keeping 
your pussy covered when you're not wearing panties 
under a tiny skirt!) and in a moment I was walking into 
the place on David's arm, looking for all the world 
like a hot to trot sugar momma and her new boy toy. 

It was like walking into an old film. The big black 
wooden doors opened before us and suddenly we were in a 
world of elegance and sophistication like I'd never 
seen. There were men in suits and tuxedoes, women in 
evening gowns and pearls, tables with white cloths down 
to the floor, and a band in white tuxedoes playing "Bei 
Mir Bist Du Schoen." A small dance floor was in front 
of the band, one that could fit two couples comfortably 
and three with difficulty; at the moment there were two 
couples there, one in their thirties and another 
silver-haired pair in their 60s that looked like they 
belonged in a Viagra commercial – a fit, dashing man 
and an elegant, laughing lady.

I loved the place in an instant.

The Maitre d' was at the front, and he grinned when he 
saw David. "Hey Dave, how ya doing?"

I arched an eyebrow – David hated being called "Dave." 
But my son didn't seem to mind this time, as he pumped 
the man's hand and said, "Good, Ron, good. Thanks for 
getting us in tonight."

"No problem," Ron replied, turning to me with a smile. 
"And this must be the lady you talked about. Dave, 
you're a liar. You said she was gorgeous, but you 
underestimated."

I blushed a bit and laughed. "Well, it's good to know 
he speaks highly of me, anyway."

"Not as highly as you deserve, Angela," Ron replied. 
Apparently my son had mentioned my first name...I just 
hoped he hadn't mentioned my last. "And we have the 
best table in the whole place set aside for you – close 
to the dance floor, romantically isolated. I think 
you'll love it. Enjoy your dinner."

Ron passed us off to a 30-ish waiter who was very 
pretty and very gay. The waiter led us across the room, 
me still on my son's arm and feeling my head still 
spinning. I noticed more than a few eyes on me, but I 
didn't flatter myself that it was because I was the 
most gorgeous creature in the room. No, it was because 
of the dress I was almost wearing. It was the skimpiest 
thing any woman in the place had on. 

It wouldn't have raised an eyebrow in, say, one of the 
dance clubs in the middle of downtown, but this was the 
sort of place that tended toward gowns. I was as red as 
a beet by the time we got to our table and the waiter 
seated us. At least Ron had been right about the table 
being romantic and isolated – we were by a wall, maybe 
six steps from the dance floor, and almost concealed 
behind a couple of tall plants. Back here, we could do 
everything but fuck and nobody would notice a thing. 
Undoubtedly David had been very specific about which 
table he wanted.

David looked around with a smile. "Wow! This is quite a 
place. I keep expecting to see Cary Grant popping 
around the corner."

"It's pretty amazing, yes," I admitted. The waiter 
asked if we wanted to start off with a drink and David 
asked for champagne – actually he asked specifically 
for a 1996 Bollinger Grande Annee Rose. When the waiter 
had gone, I said, "Well that sounded impressive. Is 
that a good wine?"

David shot me a grin. "That's what Ron told me to get. 
He said it would knock your socks off."

I doubted it was my socks that David wanted to knock 
off – and what he wanted would be easier to get because 
of the champagne, because champagne goes straight to my 
head like nothing else in the world. I'm not a drinker 
as a rule and so I'm a terrible lightweight, but even 
so champagne does things to be. I get a solid buzz on 
after half a glass... so I'd need to be careful. "Well, 
I like champagne, so if it's good I'll love it, I'm 
sure. But I still don't think you ought to be 
drinking."

David just shook his head; his smile didn't budge. 
"Don't fight the small fights, mom. Did you know that 
even Laurel gets drunk once in a while?"

I gaped. "She does not!"

"Well, I exaggerate," he admitted. "But I have it on 
good authority that she was plenty tipsy off wine 
coolers at that sleepover she did at Melissa Hardy's 
house last month."

"Really?"

"Truly."

"I...didn't know that."

"There's probably a lot you don't know about her," 
David laughed. "And about me too. But tonight I don't 
want to talk about anything that would put a frown on 
your face. Tonight is about you having a great time. 
OK?"

I nodded, but I was still very tense. "I...um... I 
didn't know you danced. Like this, I mean."

"Well, I've been taking lessons. A gal I know is a 
dance instructor at the University, she's been teaching 
me."

"Uh huh. And how have you been paying for your 
lessons?"

His grin got devilish again. He leaned in 
conspiratorially and whispered, "With my Christmas 
money."

I had to laugh at that. "I assumed it was... oh, a 
barter arrangement."

"Mmm, no, I offered but she told me she can't spend 
that and she needs to make her rent every month," he 
replied with a laugh. "I gotta say, it stung my pride." 
Just then the band ended the song and David asked, 
"Would you like to dance?"

I blushed again. "I don't think I can in this, David. I 
mean... I'm one sudden movement away from being naked."

"I tell you what," he said. "We'll wait for a slow 
number...one without a lot of sudden movements...and 
then we'll get up there. I'm proud of my dancing, and I 
know you're proud of yours. I bet we wow them."

"There will be wows when my tits pop out of this 
dress," I muttered. But I knew that he wanted to dance 
with me tonight and I also knew that he would 
eventually get me up there so I simply resigned myself 
to the fact and looked around at all the pretty people 
in their pretty outfits. 

The band started up with "Brazil," and I was instantly 
glad I wasn't up there dancing to that. The way my hips 
would move to it, my hemline would be up over my ass in 
no time. We made some idle and (for me at least) 
uncomfortable chitchat for a few minutes until the 
waiter returned with our champagne. I admit I don't 
know much about wines, but the label made this one look 
expensive. 

My mind wet over, once again, the various unpleasant 
means by which my son might be getting the money to 
afford all of this, but I had to let that thought go – 
it was too damned depressing. The cork popped and in a 
moment David was holding up his glass in a toast. "To 
us," he said, "and to tonight, and the wonderful time 
we're going to have."

I lifted my glass and clinked it against his, though I 
wasn't sure I was going to have a wonderful time. I 
sipped the champagne...and it was like nothing else I'd 
ever tasted. It exploded into my mouth with a taste of 
rose petals, but by the time I swallowed that first sip 
there was a sharp nutty flavor; a few seconds later I 
was tasting tart fruitiness. I'm not a wine connoisseur 
and I usually laugh when people talk about all the 
different flavors in a mouthful of wine...but this was 
spectacular. It was like candy, and before I knew it I 
had a second, larger taste of it.

"This is good, isn't it?" David asked after a sip of 
his own.

"Yes it is," I replied, and I couldn't help but smile. 
I already felt the first of my buzz coming on; it was 
going to be a losing fight to stay sober. "I know I'm 
going to regret asking this, but what do you usually 
drink?"

"I'm not a big drinker, really. I mean at a party I'll 
have a beer or a couple of shots, but I'm not out there 
leading the pack and getting stinking drunk. I like to 
stay in control."

The giddiness of the champagne was hitting me now, just 
around the edges, and I couldn't help but quirk an 
eyebrow. "I'll bet you do," I said, and it came out 
more teasing than I wanted it to. "What about... other 
things?"

"Other things?" He laughed. "Oh, you heard the rumors. 
Laurel told you, I suppose."

"About you selling? Yes."

"I do sell some," he admitted. "I figure if I don't 
someone else will, so why shouldn't the suckers' money 
be on my hip? But the only thing I ever take is 
Ecstasy, when I'm at a dance or something. And I don't 
even usually do that. I think I'm a lot soberer than 
you think I am."

"Maybe. But I wish you wouldn't do it. Any of it. 
You're my son and I worry about you, even though..."

"Even though I'm a shithead?" he supplied.

"Even though you're a shithead," I agreed. 

He locked eyes with me and asked, "Do you want me to 
stop?"

"Of course I do."

"Then ask me."

There was electricity between us, and it was growing 
with every heartbeat. I looked at his face and wondered 
if those angel-eyes could be trusted to keep any 
promise they made. He had lied before and would, I was 
sure, lie again. But this was also an important moment, 
something that could, if he kept his word, turn him 
from an awful, dangerous, and unproductive path and 
onto one that was much better for him. And so, eyes 
still on his, I said, softly, "David, I want you to 
stop selling drugs. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation and without 
flinching. "I love you. I'll do that for you."

I smiled, and he smiled, and suddenly I felt very close 
to him. Whether he would keep that promise or not I 
didn't know, but he had made it and he gave me the 
chance to hope. Even if it turned out to be a lie, it 
was a chance worth taking.

It was around then that the waiter brought our menus, 
and just like any good French restaurant, I gained 
weight just by reading what they served. In the end 
(over a little more champagne) I decided to go with the 
coq au vin (much to David's amusement at my "wanting 
cock") while David ordered grilled salmon. As the 
waiter went away with our orders, the band was just 
finishing with a song and David made significant eyes 
at the dance floor. "Well?"

The champagne had lubricated me just enough that I 
could face the possibility without quailing and I 
nodded. "Fine, but let's go up there and ask for a slow 
number."

He nodded and smiled as he stood and took my hand. I 
followed him onto the floor just as the other couples 
were leaving (the floor was small enough that nobody 
was staying for more than one or two dances). I know 
that there were eyes on me because of my dress, and I 
felt myself blushing a bit, but I did my best to ignore 
them. I didn't want to get embarrassed and screw up, 
which would make me more embarrassed, etc., so I tried 
to relax as David whispered a few words I didn't hear 
to the bandleader. The man nodded, and David got back 
to me just as we were joined by another couple.

"What did you ask him for?" I asked, but at that moment 
the music began and answered my question. It was 
"Stardust."

I have to tell you now that, for my money, "Stardust" 
is the most romantic song ever written. When I was a 
little girl I remember sitting up in my grandparents' 
attic with their old record player, playing 78s of old 
songs. Sometimes Sue and I would dance to them – we 
didn't know what we were doing, just aping old movies, 
but those times imbued me with a love of big band music 
that has lasted to this day. And back then my favorite 
record of all was a Harry James version of "Stardust." 

I used to play it over and over and wish that someone, 
sometime, would feel that kind of undying love for me. 
It inspired ten thousand foolish schoolgirl fantasies, 
and even today when I hear it I get weak in the knees. 
Tim knew that, of course, but the look on my face was 
one of amazement as I slid into David's arms and began 
to move very slowly to the music. Softly I whispered, 
"How did you know?"

His reply was to smile lovingly, place his mouth next 
to my ear, and begin to sing:

"And now the purple dusk of twilight time

"Steals across the meadows of my mind

"High up in the sky the little stars climb

"Reminding me that we're apart..."

He didn't just know my favorite song – he knew the 
lyrics. I melted in his arms like butter, and from that 
moment any resistance that I might have put up that 
night was brushed aside. It was one of the most 
perfectly romantic things that has ever happened to me. 
David's singing voice is best forgotten, but here, 
whispered softly, it was like an angel. I'd have stood 
a better chance of resisting an avalanche than my son 
at that point. 

Yes the booze had something to do with it, but this was 
the sort of completely loving gesture I had longed for 
since I was a little girl, and now I was getting it in 
the arms of my own son. A glamorous nightclub, fine 
wine, dancing to my favorite song, being sung to while 
in the arms of a strong, handsome young man...what more 
could I have asked for?

"Sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely nights

"Dreaming of a song

"The melody haunts my reverie

"And I am once again with you..."

I hadn't danced this way nearly as much as I wanted to, 
but the steps came back to me as David led. I don't 
know if my feet touched the floor or not, as clichιd as 
that is to say. I felt like I was dancing in the sky 
far above. And David led me perfectly, taking me where 
I needed to go. I placed my head against his chest and 
beamed a satisfied, contented smile that the whole 
place saw. This was what I'd always wanted and finally 
I was getting it. For tonight I didn't need to think 
why I was getting it, or from whom. Tonight I could 
just be glad...as long as I kept it from going too far.

"Though I dream in vain

"In my heart you will remain

"My stardust melody

"A memory of love's refrain."

The last chord was still hanging in the air when I 
lifted my mouth to David's, there on the dance floor, 
and gave him a long, deep kiss. I knew that we were 
being watched. I knew everyone there was seeing me suck 
my son's tongue and press my barely-clad body into his, 
but I didn't give a damn. To me they weren't even 
there. This was my dream come true and David had made 
it happen. The only people in the whole place were the 
two of us, and I kissed him that way. My arms were 
around his neck, my body melded to his, our breath one 
breath. Even if the evening had ended then and there, 
it would have been worth it.

Back at our table a moment later, I had his hands in 
mine and I was glowing. "David, that was... that was 
amazing. Really it was. Thank you so much."

"You like it?"

"I loved it. Honestly."

"Do I get another kiss?"

He did, and this time he slipped his hand inside my 
dress and rolled my left nipple between his fingers. 
The table was secluded behind plants so nobody saw it, 
but at that instant I doubt I would have stopped him if 
we had an audience. It felt fantastic, my hard nipple 
sending marvelous sensations through me, and I sucked 
his tongue like a cock. I had a little more champagne – 
more than a little more – and two songs later we were 
back out on the floor to "You Are My Lucky Star," my 
head nestled shamelessly into David's shoulder and his 
hands two inches north of my ass. 

Midway through the dance his cock began to stir against 
my belly, getting semi-hard, and I just smiled and 
pressed myself closer to him. I realized that I was 
more than a little drunk by this point – I'd had two 
glasses of champagne on an empty stomach – and I knew 
that my son was seducing me, but there was no fight in 
me right now, not anymore. I was too busy enjoying 
myself – and I was too drunk.

Shortly after we got back to the table our food 
arrived. I welcomed it because I needed to get some 
food into my stomach before I pitched over face first. 
Plus, it was amazing food. David was in a wonderful 
mood and so was I; we were laughing and joking, both of 
us relaxed and happy. He "Mmmmmed" when he tried his 
salmon, then cut off a piece and held it out to me on 
his fork for me to try; I locked eyes with him as I 
took it into my mouth, and as the moment hung there I 
realized that the fish wasn't the only thing of his I'd 
be putting in my mouth tonight. 

I was horny, he was horny, we were having a fantastic 
time...and hell, I'd already sucked his cock and loved 
it, so why shouldn't I do it again? Yes I know there 
were a million reasons why not, but I was too drunk and 
too carried away to think much about them. 

I know this all must make me look like a complete 
wishy-washy ditz. First I don't want it, then I do. I'm 
fighting to keep him out of my panties and then I'm 
thinking how nice it would be to get him in. I'm 
miserable about going on a public date with him and 
then I'm having a great time. All I can say is that if 
it seems that way to you, have pity on me because it 
was a thousand times worse living it than reading it. 

When I was calm, sober and not hormonally supercharged 
I knew – I KNEW – that I needed to stop this ride, to 
keep this from going too far, to control David and 
defuse the situation in a way that would keep him from 
destroying me and my family. I knew it. It wasn't a 
question, there was no debate. I worried about it, I 
thought about it constantly, I lost sleep over it. I 
didn't want to do anything with him. I wanted things 
back the way they had been before he caught me with 
Charlie. I wanted him as a son and nothing else.

The problem was that David knew that. He was completely 
aware that I felt that way, and more than that he was 
aware of what he needed to do to get past it. He knew 
to wait for my period when I was too horny to say no. 
He knew how to use words and emotions to twist me like 
a blade of grass between his fingers. He knew to take 
me on the most romantic date of my life, fulfill my 
girlhood dreams and get me drunk. He knew me.

That was it, really. He knew me better than I knew 
myself. He had spent his whole life studying me, 
thinking about me, fantasizing how he would make me 
his. When he got the chance he already knew what to 
say, how to act, what to do. How many times had he 
masturbated thinking about this date since he was 10 
years old? How many little signs had he picked up from 
me that told him what I wanted and needed? He was a 
student and I was his topic – and he'd learned very, 
very well.

I, on the other hand, had spent my whole adult life 
avoiding learning anything about myself. I had buried 
myself in a marriage that left me physically dead. I 
had pretended I didn't need sex, didn't need passion or 
love or the thrill of connecting with someone at a 
soul-deep level. I had pretended I wasn't a human being 
with human needs, and for a long time I had gotten away 
with it.

But David knew better. David always knew better, and he 
never stopped thinking about it, planning and wondering 
and observing. And so now, when I found out how wrong I 
had been the whole time, David was there ahead of me. 
He knew that I was like a child, unformed clay, and he 
knew that he had the chance to form me into the woman 
he wanted me to be. 

All I knew was that I had to fight him, but I had no 
idea how. It was never a fair fight. And so when he 
wasn't there, when I was level and "me" I didn't want 
him; as soon as he started to punch my buttons then all 
that levelheadedness and logic fell away. It's not a 
good explanation for everything that had happened so 
far and everything that would happen in the future, but 
it was the only one I had.

Also, I was pretty drunk.

And so I ate off his fork and he ate off of mine and we 
shared a magnificent dinner. We talked and we laughed, 
we leaned in to whisper to each other and we smiled at 
the growing desire in each other's eyes. He ogled my 
cleavage (to be fair, that dress didn't show cleavage, 
it showed canyon) and I positioned myself to give him a 
good view. We played footsie under the table and I ran 
my foot up much farther than any mother ought to with 
her son... all the way up, in fact, so that my toes 
teased his raging erection. He gave me a devilish and 
delighted grin when he felt that, and shifted in his 
chair so I could stroke his length with my foot. 

"Like what you feel?" he asked.

I did my best to look innocent. "What do you mean?"

His hand went beneath the table and unzipped, and then 
I felt the warm, smooth flesh of his magnificent cock 
against my foot. "Now do you like what you feel?"

I giggled. "Oh, that. Yes, I like it very much."

"Well thanks, I'm fond of it too."

I took another bite of my food. It had been delicious, 
but I was getting full and so now I was mostly pushing 
the food around the plate. "I'll bet you are. It's 
something to be proud of."

"If you keep playing with it, you just might make a 
mess."

"Oh no," I replied, eyes wide. "Well maybe I should 
stop."

"I didn't say that."

"No you didn't, did you? Hmm...you know, I think I have 
a solution to this dilemma."

"Really?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "Do tell."

I didn't tell. Instead I took one last look around to 
make sure that the table was as secluded as I thought 
it was and, finding that it was so, I "accidentally" 
dropped my napkin on the floor and bent to retrieve it. 
Except I kept bending right out of the chair and onto 
my hands and knees. The tablecloth was elegantly long 
and concealed me nicely as I slipped beneath it. 

"Mom," he said delightedly. "You naughty little whore!"

I giggled again and crawled to him. My hands were on 
his thighs, stroking them, and his cock was enormous 
and right in front of my face. It had been a while 
since I had seen it this close and once more I was 
thrilled with how perfectly it matched my ideal of the 
male member: very thick, a little longer than average, 
straight, velvety smooth and utterly gorgeous to look 
at. "Mmmmm," I said as I wrapped my fingers around it 
and felt its solidity and heat, "tell me again what 
kind of girl I am..."

"You're a slut," he said softly as he eased back in his 
chair a little more and slipped a hand beneath the 
tablecloth to stroke my cheek. "You're a cocksucking 
cumwhore who's about to take her son's prick in her 
mouth in the middle of a restaurant and you love it."

"Mmm-hmmmm," I agreed as I stuck my tongue out and ran 
it along the length of his shaft from the base to the 
tip. Hearing him demean me like that while doing 
something so crazy and wrong sent shivers into my 
pussy. I had never done anything even remotely like 
this, not even when I was an irresponsible kid. And yet 
here I was, on my hands and knees under a table for my 
own flesh and blood – and he was right because I did 
love it. 

At that moment I loved it more than anything else I 
could imagine. *The only thing that could make it 
better,* I thought as I slipped my lips around the head 
and sucked gently, hollowing my cheeks and running my 
tongue over the tip, *is if Charlie were here fucking 
me while I did it.*

David groaned softly and cradled the back of my head. 
Unlike last time he wouldn't be able to fuck my mouth. 
This time I was in control, completely and utterly, and 
it was up to me to give him the best blowjob I could 
manage. I figured I was up to the task, and to prove it 
I took four inches of his cock into my mouth, swirling 
my tongue around it and tasting the salty, wonderful 
precum that oozed out. 

"God yes you slut, you whore, you fucking dirty little 
cunt," David hissed emphatically. "Suck your son's cock 
like the good little tramp you are. Suck the cum right 
out of my balls!"

His words made me as hot as a blast furnace and I 
swallowed him to the root, taking him in to that he hit 
the back of my throat. Once more I gagged a bit at the 
feeling but that didn't stop me or even slow me down. 
My tongue was swirling, whirling, dancing along his 
shaft and I could feel how hot I was making him. His 
hand was trembling as he grabbed a handful of my hair 
and clenched tight and I knew this would be a situation 
so erotic that he wouldn't last long. I sucked him as 
deep as I could take him, held him there while my 
cheeks caressed and my tongue moved, and then slowly, 
slowly let him back out again until just the tip was in 
my mouth and I could run the point of my tongue up 
underneath it. 

What, I wondered, would all of the finely-dressed 
people in this club say if they knew the blonde cougar 
in the tiny red dress was underneath her table sucking 
her boy-toy's cock? They probably wouldn't have been 
surprised, I thought. But what would they say if they 
knew that the blonde mom in the tiny red dress was 
under the table slurping her 17 year old son's cock 
like it was a popsicle on a hot day? Hmmm...they'd 
almost certainly call the cops.

And that was when I discovered, from the shiver of 
delight that started at my hairline and ran through my 
body like current from a live wire, that the danger of 
it made me hot. I didn't expect that. I'd never done 
anything in public and never been on the edge of 
getting caught, and so I'd never experienced anything 
but safe (in that sense, anyway) sex. 

But this was nothing like safe. This was crazy. This 
was right on the edge. This could get me arrested. This 
could ruin my life. This made me so hot that I couldn't 
help but slip my hand down, tug up the tiny skirt, and 
put my finger on my clit. My pussy was so wet it was 
dripping, my moisture running down my thighs. I could 
be caught! I could be exposed! I could come so damned 
easily.

"Fuck yeah, that's it you dirty cunt, you hot little 
fuckhole! Suck it! Suck it like a cheap whore!"

My head was bobbing faster and faster, my tongue 
flying. I could feel his cock quivering in my mouth and 
I knew he was on the edge, right on the edge of blowing 
his sweet load right down my throat –

"And how is everything tonight?" came the waiter's 
voice. I felt a spasm of something that wasn't quite 
panic go through me (it was then I learned the 
difference between wanting to be caught and actually 
being caught!) but I pulled it back and kept bobbing my 
head on my son's thick rod. I wasn't going to ruin this 
moment. I was going to suck the cum right out of 
David's balls, just like he'd ordered me. That's what 
dirty little whores do, after all.

"Everything's great," I heard David reply, his voice 
surprisingly calm and level given what was happening 
below the table.

"And was everything all right for the lady?" the waiter 
asked.

Now I'm not sure what possessed me to do what I did 
next. With all the misgivings I'd had at the beginning 
of the date and all the excellent and perfectly valid 
reasons for not doing what I was doing, I had every 
cause in the world to keep this a secret. But I didn't. 
Instead I stuck my hand out from under the tablecloth, 
my fingers curled in an OK sign. 

There was a moment of silence, and then the waiter 
started to laugh the most embarrassed laugh I've ever 
heard. It was a titter, high-pitched and very 
uncomfortable, and it made me smile around the cock 
that was filling my mouth. "Oh! Oh my...oh dear!" the 
waiter managed. "I...I'll just leave you two alone 
then..."

"Thanks," David told him, and a moment later he added, 
in a quiet hiss meant just for me, "I'm gonna cum, you 
bitch. Take my cum you filthy cunt! Take it!" I buried 
my face in his groin and took him into my throat just 
as I felt his cock jump in my mouth and I felt the 
first huge wad of his seed flow down it. That was 
enough for me, and with one more wiggle of my finger on 
my clit I was coming, and coming hard. David came 
straight down my throat, blowing long and hard, and I 
swallowed it like my life depended on it. 

He came and came, his body first stiffening and then 
suddenly relaxing, but I kept him in my mouth long 
after his orgasm was done. I suckled him gently, 
softly, drawing out every drop of his sperm and 
savoring the taste and the feel of it, just like I 
savored the way he felt in my mouth, softening but 
still firm and big. His hand was stroking my face idly 
and his breathing was deep and satisfied. After almost 
a minute of this, he managed a, "God damn, mom..."

I grinned hugely as I took my mouth off of him and 
gently tucked him back into his pants. A second later I 
crawled out from underneath the table and back into my 
chair, a rosy glow on my cheeks and an impish twinkle 
in my eye. "Now that was what I call a dessert!"

David was slumped in his chair and looking positively 
wrung out, but very, very happy. He beamed at me, 
licked his lips and said, "Mom...you're amazing. That 
was amazing."

I grinned smugly and felt incredibly proud of myself. 
"How about a dance? Something a little faster this 
time?"

"Christ, give me a second!" he laughed, waving his 
hands in surrender. In fact I gave him about five 
minutes and then we were out on the floor to "In the 
Mood;" I love it when music has irony. We danced 
vigorously to that and "Sugar Foot Stomp," and even 
though my dress stayed where it was supposed to much 
better than I expected it to (thank God for clingy 
knits), I shot the band a major beaver when David 
dipped me unexpectedly. Lubricated by champagne, good 
food, romance, and the taste of my son's cum, I wasn't 
nearly as mortified by it as I would have been at the 
beginning of the night...and the band seemed to like 
it. 

As I mentioned, the floor was too small to stay out 
there for more than a couple of dances in a row and so 
we made way for others and went back to our table. A 
few minutes later the waiter showed up and tried to act 
inconspicuous as he asked us if we wanted dessert. He 
recommended the chocolate crepe, so that was what we 
went with, and as he walked away David leaned over with 
a huge grin and said, "Man, he is so jealous of me!"

I laughed and patted him on the hand. "He's jealous all 
right honey, but he's jealous of me, not you, because 
I'm the one who got to suck a cock."

David looked after the retreating waiter in surprise. 
"Really?"

"Very."

"Damn," he muttered. "I gotta get my gaydar fixed."

"Well he's jealous of one of us and that's the 
important thing...but if he saw your cock, he'd be very 
jealous."

David beamed. "Do you have any idea how hot it is that 
my mom likes my cock?"

"Nope. Tell me."

He searched for words for a moment, then shrugged and 
said, "It's pretty hot, is what it is." We locked eyes, 
and then we both laughed. It felt wonderful, natural, 
easy and simple. For the moment my son was my 
boyfriend, and for the moment that was all right. 

We made easy and very enjoyable small talk until the 
crepe came. When we put the fork to it, chocolate oozed 
out like lava. I like chocolate, and this was fantastic 
chocolate. If God gave out candy for Halloween, he'd 
give out this chocolate. We mmmm'd our way through 
dessert and then hit the dance floor again. We shared 
another ten or a dozen dances, only giving way when 
someone else wanted the floor and getting back on as 
soon as we could. There were several fast numbers and 
we did a passable swing mishmash dance. 

My dress held up and covered my modesty a lot better 
than I expected it would – my girls threatened to pop 
out a few times but never actually did, and I'd learned 
to keep my legs together when being dipped. There were 
several slow dances where I draped myself off my son 
and let him move me with his strength and sureness, 
listening to his heart beat against my ear as I pressed 
it to his broad chest. Twice more we kissed on the 
dance floor, more romantically than passionately, and 
we got some applause from spectators – more for the 
smooching and the dress than the dancing, but still. 

Eventually we decided to leave so as not to tie up 
their table all night, settling for one last dance. I 
was hoping that it would be something incredibly 
romantic and apropos, like "The Way You Look Tonight" 
or "The Last Dance," but what we got was a funny old 
song called "Save the Bones for Henry Jones" that I 
remembered well from a Johnny Mercer recording in my 
grandparents' attic. Ah well, I mused as I swung around 
the floor in David's strong arms once more, one doesn't 
always get the fairy tale ending.

Davie left the waiter a very generous tip (I didn't ask 
him where he got the money – I figured I knew, and 
anyway he'd promised to stop the activity and I wanted 
to give him a chance to keep his word) and we headed 
out into the May night. After working up a bit of a 
sweat dancing, the night breeze off the river seemed a 
bit chilly (especially given my lack of clothing) but 
I'd barely registered the sensation before David 
settled his suit jacket over my shoulders and drew me 
in with one arm; I beamed up at him like a proud 
schoolgirl when the handsomest boy in class takes her 
out, and we walked to the curb.

I mentioned that the area the club was in is eclectic 
and interesting, and it's especially so on pleasant 
evenings. Several bars have outside tables and the 
activity tends to spill out onto the street, with 
little groups of young people talking and laughing and 
drinking beer right in the middle of the road. On the 
other side is the Mississippi, black and without memory 
at night, and across it the lights of downtown 
Minneapolis throwing their reflections onto the water. 

It was the perfect place for a walk at night, and as I 
stepped out onto the street I realized I didn't want 
the night to end yet. It had been romantic, gentle, 
erotic, funny, bright and so very, very fun that all I 
could think was that I wanted it to continue for a 
while. So when David turned toward the valet I stopped 
him and tugged on his hand. "Let's walk for a little 
bit," I told him with a smile. "It's beautiful 
tonight."

David's handsome face lit up with a quiet joy as his 
eyes rested on me. "Yeah...yeah you are beautiful 
tonight. Come on."

We walked then, me nestled into the crook of his 
shoulder, feeling the breeze, hearing laughter and 
music from the bars and the distant rumble of traffic. 
As we walked I watched the lights of downtown shimmer 
and sparkle on the water that would flow the breadth of 
a continent and I felt purely and simply content. I 
don't even really remember what I thought as we walked, 
my body against my son's. I know we made small talk, 
pleasant chitchat that was only meaningful for the 
feelings of completeness it gave us. 

We passed a few bars – one where a band was playing 
some loud Lynyrd Skynyrd cover, another that was 
blaring some top 40 song I didn't know, another that 
gave forth the sounds of soulful blues – and finally we 
came to a spot where there were a few stone and 
concrete benches and a little overlook that gave a 
perfect view of downtown. 

A young couple was already sitting on one of the 
benches and I wanted to give them their privacy so I 
drew David over to the wall by the river and leaned on 
the stones, gazing out at the Mississippi's flow. David 
gently brushed my hair back from my face and I smiled. 
Neither one of us spoke for a while, until finally I 
said, "Thank you. This was a magical night, David. I'll 
never forget it."

"I'm glad you liked it, and I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you made me come."

His arm settled around my waist. "I thought you were 
going to turn me down for a while," he admitted, his 
hand playing along my side. "I hoped you wouldn't, 
but..."

I stood up and faced him, laying a hand on his chest 
and looking into his eyes. Softly, I whispered, "It was 
a good first date."

"First? Does that mean there will be a second?"

I put my forehead into his chest. "Oh, David. I've 
never been treated like this in my life. I thought 
nights like this just happened in old movies and silly 
novels. It's crazy that it took my son to give me a 
night like this, but...but I don't know if anyone else 
could have. I don't think anyone knows me as well as 
you do – nobody who'd care to do this, anyway. You made 
me feel so special. You made me feel so loved."

"I do love you, mom."

"I know, baby. I love you."

"Kiss me?"

My answer was a kiss. There, in the dark, by the river, 
with the scent of night flowers on the May breeze and 
the sound of laughter in the air, I kissed my son 
without reservation or hesitation. There was passion in 
the kiss, but there was so much more than that too. 
There was respect, love, adoration, gratefulness, 
happiness, all of it swirling together to make one 
wonderful emotion I didn't have a name for but which I 
wanted again and again, endlessly. And when the kiss 
was done, David stood smiling down at me and said, 
"Mom, I want to make you come."

"I would like that, David," I said instantly and 
without a trace of shame. "I'd like that very much. 
Come on, let's go back to the car."

"No. Here."

I laughed and looked around. The young couple was 15 
feet away and lost in their own whispered conversation 
but there was no way they'd miss us fooling around. And 
beside that, we were right by an active street with a 
stream of pedestrians and cars, and there were several 
knots of people in plain sight. "Here? That's silly, 
David."

"So I'm silly," he replied with a throaty chuckle, 
maneuvering me so my back was to the low stone wall and 
his hands were under the jacket, on my breasts. "I want 
to sit you right up on this wall and put my mouth on 
you. I want to suck you and lick you and put my fingers 
in you until you come screaming."

"David," I whispered, a hand on his arm as he reached 
down and began to pull up the hem of my dress, "this is 
crazy. Let's go someplace more private."

"I don't want it private," he told me, putting his 
hands on my ass and lifting me up to sit on the wall. I 
didn't fight him. "I want it right here, right in front 
of everyone. I want people to see how much I love you. 
I want people to see that I can make you feel 
wonderful. I want you to open yourself to me, mom. I 
want you to open yourself to this. I want you to want 
it."

"David..."

"I want you to want it, mom. Do you want it?"

I paused for what felt like a lifetime but must only 
have been a couple of seconds, and then breathed a 
single word: "Yes."

My son didn't give me time to reconsider. He was there, 
arms around me, lips on my neck and then further down. 
I tilted my head back to let him do what he would to me 
and closed my eyes. I knew that what he was about to do 
to me might well draw a crowd. I'd be lying if I said I 
didn't find the idea suddenly and perversely appealing: 
a crowd of strangers watching me being pleasured in 
public by a handsome young man – even if they didn't 
know it was my son – was curiously and unexpectedly 
thrilling. 

But the part of me that liked the idea was overwhelmed, 
for the moment at least, by the part of me that didn't 
have the courage to watch the crowd gather... or watch 
David do what he was about to do, for that matter. Yes, 
I wanted an orgasm, and yes I wanted David to give it 
to me, but this was giving him permission to touch me 
in a deeper, more intimate way than I had allowed so 
far. It was yet another of my lines that he was 
stepping across, with my help. It was yet more danger.

My breasts came free of my dress with a tug of fabric 
and then his mouth was on them. I gasped as he closed 
his teeth around my right nipple, biting it softly even 
as his fingers twisted and danced over my left. Once 
again David wasn't merely my son, but also a 
tremendously skilled and talented young man who knew 
how to make a woman – even his mother – tremble with 
delight. I arched my back and pushed my breasts to him 
and he did what he was so very good at. His tongue 
caressed, his lips sucked, his fingers pinched and 
tugged. 

He went from my right breast to my left and back, 
kissing, suckling, making me moan and clutch at his 
back with shaking hands. When his mouth was on my 
nipple it was warm, wet, glowing with sensation like an 
ember from a fire – and when his mouth would leave to 
go to the other, the gentle night breeze would cool it 
like a sudden application of ice, sending the most 
delightful shivers down my spine. 

"I love your tits," David murmured, and his adoration 
brought a lascivious grin to my face. I knew it was 
wrong for my son to love me this way (and touch me this 
way) but it felt so good to have a man, any man, think 
of me as the sexy, hot, fuckable woman he saw in me! He 
made me feel attractive, like I deserved to have men 
want me, and I couldn't help but love him for it. It 
was just so damned flattering, even if it was perverted 
and sick. 

He pushed toward me and I shifted my weight, sensing 
what he was about to do. My legs came open of their own 
accord and he was there, his trim hips between my 
thighs...and then he was moving down. He left my 
breasts exposed and it didn't even occur to me to cover 
them as he began to kiss and lick his way down, down, 
over the swath of stomach left bare by my miniscule 
dress. His tongue felt like it was electrified, because 
everyplace it touched tingled and shivered even after 
his tongue moved on. 

By the time he reached my navel I was almost weeping 
with lust. What he was doing felt so incredibly good! I 
had no idea if we had drawn a crowd (I still had my 
eyes closed as tight as I could get them) but just the 
chance that we could was adding spice to what we were 
doing. Were there people watching? Did they see how 
eager I was for what was coming? Did they see how eager 
David was to do it? The possibilities swirled in my 
lust-fogged brain and made me wetter and needier than I 
already was. 

And then there was what David was doing to my belly 
button. I'd never considered the navel an erogenous 
zone before; it was just a birth relic, a funny little 
pucker that I almost never thought about at all. But 
when my boy's mouth found it, I learned that I had been 
very, very naοve. He closed his lips around it, and the 
sensation was so unexpected and startling that I gave a 
loud gasp and stiffened my fingers in his shirt. Then 
came his tongue, a soft intruder like none I had ever 
felt there. He licked and I moaned; he suckled and I 
ground my ass onto the top of the wall in need. He was 
French kissing my damned belly button, of all things, 
and he still hadn't even laid a finger on my pussy – 
but already I was on the edge of an orgasm!

My boy, I realized, was going to be a hell of a lover 
when he finally got me. 

My dress was pushed up over the tops of my thighs as he 
moved slower, and I tilted back as much as I could to 
let him do what he would to me. Somewhere in the back 
of my mind was the little voice of reason and sanity 
telling me not to get too into this, not to let him 
carry me away the way he could...but I told that voice 
to go fuck itself and it went away. I knew how 
dangerous this was for us long term, just allowing him 
to put his mouth on me, but I'd be lying if I didn't 
admit that if he'd have shoved his magnificent, thick 
cock into me at that moment I'd have fucked him like a 
two dollar whore and begged for more. But he didn't: he 
just kept kissing lower and lower...

"God David, please lick me," I whimpered at last, 
unable to contain myself anymore. "I need it baby, 
please!"

His shoulders were between my thighs, pushing them 
wider.

From somewhere not far away I heard a young man say, 
"Fuck yeah, look at that!"

I felt David's hot breath on my bare, dripping slit as 
he leaned in.

With one hand on the wall to brace me, I put the other 
behind my son's head and felt his hair, neat and short, 
and beneath it his warm skin.

My left leg moved on its own, coming up and draping 
over his shoulder, my ankle on the small of his back.

"Damn he's a cutie," a girl said from close by.

David's mouth pressed softly but assuredly against my 
pussy. 

I moaned. This was it, what I needed. What I wanted. 
What my own son would give me.

His tongue began to caress me, first broad and flat and 
licking the outer lips, and then suddenly firm and 
moving right down the middle, pushing my lips aside and 
touching flesh so sensitive that my whole body lit up 
like the Fourth of July. I grabbed his head and yanked 
him into me, or at least tried, but he moved at his own 
pace...and his pace was wonderful.

I knew that there were voices from nearby, people 
watching me give my cunt to my son, but I couldn't have 
told you a thing they were saying. They barely existed 
for me, just shadows and forms beyond the thundering of 
the blood rushing in my ears and the rasp of my own 
breath in my throat. 

David was as good with his mouth as with his hands – 
and he was the best ever with his hands. He opened me 
with his cheeks, pressing forward so that his whole 
face seemed to be buried in me. I felt the breath from 
his nostrils on my clit, and somehow he knew that my 
clit was too sensitive to be touched directly during 
this – his breath was the perfect amount of sensation. 
His lips suckled at my opening, his teeth grazed 
membranes that danced and sang at their passage...and 
his tongue. 

My God, my son's tongue. His tongue did things in me I 
can't even describe. It moved but it didn't seem to 
move at all. It probed deep, seeking my juices. It 
twisted and writhed, hitting nerves that even Petra had 
missed with her expert attentions. It fucked in and out 
like a miniature cock, making the walls of my sex 
clutch at it in a vain attempt to keep it inside me. It 
moved like Rudolph Nureyev, like Savion Glover, like 
Fred Astaire, making its own choreography as it went 
and each step was better and more perfect than the 
last. 

"It feels so good, baby. It feels so fucking good!" My 
voice was low and urgent, hissing out between clenched 
teeth as he worked his magic on my sex. I tried to lift 
my hips and grind against him but honestly my perch on 
that wall was precarious enough that I was on the edge 
of going over backward as it was, and if I did it was a 
40-foot fall down a wooded cliff into the Mississippi, 
so I back off of it and just pulled him in tighter. He 
caught my urgency and pressed his face into me hard, 
hard enough that I could feel his teeth behind his 
lips. It felt wonderful, so very wonderful that I when 
the little kernel of heat lit in the depths of my body, 
I knew that little kernel would grow into a 
magnificent, screaming orgasm of the kind I'd been 
unknowingly craving for years. This time my craving 
would be satisfied – and satisfied by my son, my 
beautiful, clever, romantic son who had just given me 
the best evening of my life and now was about to give 
me an orgasm that would rip off the top of my skull and 
send my brain into orbit. 

David knew exactly what he was doing. He knew by how I 
was reacting to him that I wanted penetration; I'd 
barely started to form the words when I felt a pair of 
nimble fingers slide into me and start fucking my 
sloppy-wet cunt; the words changed into a loud and 
delighted moan in my mouth. I was squeezing on those 
fingers just like I'd squeezed Charlie's cock...just 
like I'd some day soon squeeze David's. And damn him if 
he didn't make me want that day to be sooner than 
later. 

My orgasm was growing inside me. I could feel it 
uncoiling in my belly like a serpent, like a thing of 
living fire, slowly getting hotter and brighter until 
it filled all the space behind my closed eyelids and 
seemed to shut out everything else in the whole world. 
"FUCK!" I cried, knowing I was loud and knowing that 
the tone of my voice could be nothing but passionate – 
knowing and not caring. "Fuck baby you're going to make 
me come! You're going to make me come, David!"

David knew it. I could feel his lips smile against my 
pussy. He pumped me harder, his fingers driving in, 
making a delicious wet sound. His tongue was busily 
working away at the delicate flesh between my opening 
and my clit, and somehow he managed to lick the clit 
hood with the tip of his tongue without hitting the raw 
little nub itself. I don't remember for sure, but I 
think it was that sensation that sent me screaming – 
and I do mean screaming – over the edge and into my 
climax. 

I clamped both my thighs hard around his head – and 
given that my main form of exercise is running four or 
five miles a day, that can't have been comfortable for 
him. But he didn't break his rhythm one bit. He fingers 
and licked and sucked while I exploded from the inside 
like a bomb, while I howled like a banshee, while I 
clawed his back through his shirt and writhed my ass on 
the stone wall. 

It was a hurtling sort of orgasm, all hard and 
breathtaking and swift, lifting me up uncountable miles 
and then dropping me down just as fast into my body 
again where I felt myself curled around David, his face 
still between my legs. I was panting and sucking air 
like I'd just sprinted and my whole body felt tingling 
and alive in a way that it hadn't in a long time. I 
think it was the breeze that did it, the sensation of 
cool air on superheated skin, but whatever it was it 
put a slow and luxurious smile on my face as I opened 
my eyes...

We'd attracted a crowd. There were ten or a dozen 
people around us, mostly college kids but a couple of 
guys a few years older than me. Everyone was grinning 
at me like I had just won the lottery, and I stared 
back at them with, I'm afraid, a rather stupid 
expression on my face. 

I had just received oral sex. In public. In front of an 
audience. From my son.

I know I should have felt embarrassed, and I suppose I 
did, or at least I felt a little self-conscious about 
my body. I pulled the jacket over my bare breasts at 
least, and slipped my hands inside to adjust my dress. 

A girl in back clapped and "Wooo'd", which was taken up 
by a few of the others. I know the thought crossed my 
mind that these strangers would call me "slut" or 
"whore," and I didn't relish it from their lips like I 
did from David's. But if I expected to see sneers or 
condemnation, I was surprised because the faces were 
happy, grinning at me like we shared a secret (which, I 
suppose, we did). David was standing next to me and he 
helped me to my feet; I snugged down the dress again to 
cover my well-licked naughty parts and looked around at 
all the unknown faces, feeling like some kind of minor 
and vaguely shameful celebrity...a Survivor contestant, 
maybe.

David put his arm around me and I looked up into his 
sweet, handsome face. I could see it gleamed still with 
my juices, and that gave me an odd and completely 
unexpected feeling of closeness with him. We had shared 
something here, something wonderful, a beautiful secret 
that we would both always remember. It was like a gift 
we had given each other.

A couple of the guys (drunken frat types) slapped David 
on the shoulder, and a couple of the gals eyed me 
enviously, but we didn't talk to any of them. In fact 
we didn't talk at all as David steered me on my wobbly 
legs, his arm around my waist, back out onto the road 
and toward the club where the valet would fetch our 
car. We walked together, me in his coat and feeling 
mellow and contented and him with his arm around me, 
strong and powerful. 

I loved him so much right then that I didn't have words 
for it. I still don't.

After about a block, he asked, "So?"

"So?"

"So...did you like it?"

My tone was teasing as I said, "Oh, it wasn't bad."

"Oh, not bad huh?"

"Nope."

He mulled that over for a moment, then replied, "Well I 
guess I don't have to do it again if you didn't like 
it."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," I said innocently. "I 
mean, you're no Charlie..."

He laughed then, a good-natured sound that echoed off 
the darkened buildings lining the street and came back 
to us. "Well, I don't have an eight-inch tongue."

"No you don't." I paused, then added mischievously, 
"You've got an eight-inch something else, though."

He laughed again and snugged me into the crook of his 
shoulder. We didn't speak again until we got back to 
the valet and were waiting for my car. Then I heard the 
strain of music drifting from inside the club and the 
whole evening came back to me in a beautiful rush. I 
squeezed my son's hand and said, simply, "Thank you."

He beamed. "You're welcome, mom. Thank you."

The drive back to the park and ride where David had 
left his car went quickly and wonderfully. We didn't 
say much, as I think both of us were lost in our own 
thoughts, but what we did say was quiet and comfortable 
and natural. I felt no shame for what had happened, 
either for what I'd done or for what I'd let David do 
to me. It had been the perfect night, and I was 
incapable of regretting a single thing about it.

David parked next to his car and waited while I quickly 
changed back into the clothes I'd left the house in. He 
grinned at my nudity, and it struck me that I didn't 
feel self-conscious in the least about stripping in 
what was, after all, a public place. Yes there was no 
one around and no one saw me, but still...public place. 
A few weeks before I'd have been mortified; now I 
didn't think twice.

David stepped up to me when I had changed and put his 
arms around me. We shared one last kiss for the night, 
a long, lingering, sweet, loving kiss in the starlight. 
It didn't need words and none were spoken. I brushed my 
fingertips over his cheek, got in my car and drove 
home.

The house was dark when I got there; it was after 
midnight and no doubt both my husband and daughter were 
long in bed. Charlie, faithful companion, was there at 
the door to greet me by stuffing his nose into my 
crotch and smelling the remains of my arousal. I petted 
him in the dark and let him sniff me, then took him out 
and let him run in the yard before we both headed up to 
bed.

Tim was asleep when I opened the door. I needed a 
shower but I was quiet so as not to wake him. Ten 
minutes later I was in an oversized sleeping tee; I 
suddenly felt exhausted, but it was the sort of happy 
exhaustion that can only come from great things. As I 
lay down next to my sleeping husband I had a smile on 
my face. My whole body was still tingling with the joy 
of the evening, and even the cynic in me had to admit 
that David hadn't just shown me a good time, he had 
shown me a wonderful time. 

The last thought I remember before drifting off to 
sleep was that maybe, just maybe, David had really 
turned over a new leaf. Maybe he had realized that he 
didn't need to be harsh and cruel to get what he 
wanted, and not just with me. Maybe he had actually 
become a better person. Once more I was allowing myself 
to think of him taking me to bed without finding it 
repulsive or even objectionable. I was even starting to 
think of ways that an affair with my own son could 
actually be good for both of us instead of poisonous to 
me and to the household.

Less than a week later David coldly and deliberately 
did something that threatened to destroy my family as 
completely as anything ever could.

To be continued?

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 62