[©2011 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 WITH IDENTITIES DISGUISED; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]
[Son is drafted by his mom to be an item to auction off for charity; he ends up having to service 3 incredibly hot MILF's—then one last one: his mom!]
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Let me 'set the table for you'. You won't understand what's going on until you understand the players. If you've seen 'Desperate Housewives' or 'Real Housewives of xxxxx County', then you're up to speed and can move on. If not, you have to understand women of a certain age.
Women who still 'have it' but can see the day when they won't act a certain way. They can hear the clock about to toll and want it all before it's too late.
Also, women of wealth and power have two things in common throughout the world. They are all of one mind—in cahoots just as men suspected. However, for the most part, they all hate each other, which makes for good TV (at times) and explains our plot today.
My parents had long ago gotten a divorce. My mother won custody of me. Believe me; it was not out of love or passion: she was a high society lady who hadn't even kissed me goodnight since I was eleven. No, she nabbed me at the divorce strictly for support.
At the end of the day, mom reeled in the house, a Lincoln Town Car, $5,000 a month support, and a $500,000 property settlement. Oh, and me too.
It would've been nice if I could say I was headed to law school or med school, but the truth was I ended up as a frame carpenter.
Sure, when there was work, the pay was decent and it kept me outdoors, tanned, and in incredible shape. Still, my mother was less than impressed. She allowed me to stay at home because there were four empty bedrooms and I was a cheap form of security.
Everything happened on or around the big charity auction. My mom traveled in a pack of four well-to-do ladies. They played bridge, did their garden parties, and ran the obligatory charity events. Normally, charities got little as the huge cost of entertaining the well-heeled patrons absorbed the ticket proceeds.
Well, there was going to be a charity auction. My mother's closest friend (thus fiercest enemy...right?) Hilda challenged the other women of the bridge circle and the garden circuit.
They got together and bet; the winner who raised the most money for the charity would get an all-expenses paid trip for two to Lake Como in Italy. That would be only a small percent of the overall monies raised. My mom was not about to lose.
The auction proceeded. To our (me and my mom) surprise, Hilda sold some fine art out of her house. Economically, it made no sense, but there it was.
Well, my mom was not about to be upstaged and ripped a Mary Cassatt pencil study off of our wall and put THAT on the block. I sat there appalled as mom grinned at the winning bid. She was up above Hilda. There was only one last bidding slot open to each of them.
Unknown to us, Hilda was behind the curtain, staring at the auction inventory card, with nothing more to sell. Terrified that mom would rip something else off the wall, like our Robert Crumb signed 'Keep on truckin', she did the only thing she could do.
The auctioneer, an extremely conservative and wealthy woman of about 70, stared at the card. With a shaky voice she announced that the high bidder for this next item would get a weekend with Ms. Hilda; no questions asked. Open to men or women who had a bidder's paddle.
You had to see the expression on my mother's gorgeous face as her best friend and nemesis, Hilda, came out. Mom smiled but then was concerned when the bids started coming. Some well-dressed men in Brooks Brothers' suits held up their paddle for $50,000. The gavel was about to end bidding.
However, there was another group of men, plus one agent on iPhone who hadn't budged. To everyone's amazement, Hilda jumped off the stage and sat in the lap of first one then the other man who hadn't bid. She rubbed her tits against their faces. The auctioneer, once she composed herself, started going from $100,000 on up.
I won't bore you with all of the bidding. Suffice it to say, that agent on the phone, in contact with the head of a corporation you use everyday, bid $250,000 and won. Hilda was triumphant, though I wondered what she had volunteered for.
As for my mom, she was thunderstruck. She could've tried the same thing; I never saw my mom in a bikini or anything, but I could tell she was incredibly hot for a woman almost forty. Petite at five foot two, she had oversized boobs (35D), an hourglass waist, a dimpled bum, and the best legs of any woman I'd ever seen. (Yes, I occasionally got a peak into her mirror...) With just a few tinges of blue and red from age, and a line or two, those legs were worthy of a Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover.
So, my mom COULD have tried the same thing. What actually happened was a complete surprise to me...but she'd planned for this contingency earlier that week.
After the gavel banged down for Hilda's $250,000 coup, my mom literally grabbed me and dragged me behind the curtains. There was the last auction inventory card. Mom had held me out as her trump card. She wrote the item description on the card and showed it to me.
My jaw dropped. Mom gave it to the elder lady, who was already dizzy from the last auction item. She stared at it, shook her head in dismay, and then smacked the dais with the gavel for attention.
My mom had drafted me for the same terms as Hilda: one weekend, no questions asked. Desperate to win, my mom had wisely taken precautions and packed my Speedos in her big purse. She handed them to me backstage, insisting that I don them. I disrobed as mom leered; it was an odd feeling.
As I reached out for the suit, she noticed that the Speedos had an inner lining for 'modesty'. To my surprise, she ripped the liner out. Now the Speedos were nothing more than membrane thin cloth, like having painted on shorts. I had to push my big cock to the side. Its uncut rough cockhead pushed the side of the swimsuit.
You could see my cock at rest, only about six inches of its maximum ten inches. Even then, it was shoehorned in there, pressing against the front of that suit to the point it might burst open. Well, that was just the way mom wanted it.
I walked out on stage and there was an audible gasp. What was funny, though I didn't find it humorous: the same agent on the phone put in an initial bid of $200,000. I was wondering what he planned for Hilda AND me? Fortunately, the women in the crowd woke up and started flashing their paddles.
The bidding reached $250,000, which would tie my mom with Hilda. As I stood there, looking buff and chiseled, the bidding seemed to end there. The crowd fell silent as mom scurried onto the stage.
Some were horrified while others, including yours truly, were super turned on: my mom kissed me full on the lips. She whispered that one day soon, she'd like to have my baby. She gave my manhood a squeeze thru the tissue thin Speedos.
Mom backed up and awaited her greatest achievement. Sure enough, I was gasping for air, unbelievably turned on. I had no control whatsoever over what happened next. That's right, my cock responded, shyly pushing its head above the Speedos drawstring and ending up well above my navel. The auctioneer turned rosy cheeked in shock. Several in the crowd (not only women either) licked their lips.
When the auctioneer crawled her way back to the dais, the paddles were flying. The bidding ended at $500,000. Three women had won.
Now, when the bidding crossed $300,000, my mom had won that vacation to Lake Como. Higher bidding wouldn't change that. So, the three women of mom's bridge circle re-entered the fray and came away with the winning bid. It was a large winning bid, but they could afford it, it was for a good cause, and it was tax deductible of course.
Hilda and the gang of three sauntered by as I retreated to the relative privacy of backstage to re-don my clothing. Just after I got dressed, Hilda grabbed me by the lapels:
Hilda: "Well, Jimmy, we waited until you were eighteen. Now, you are OUR bitch!"
Somehow I had to weather from Friday 6pm to Sunday 6pm. It was going to be in two weeks, as Hilda had taken the first weekend for her $250,000 stunt.
Hilda regaled her fellow bridge partners all the juicy details of that weekend and her performance. The wealthy bidder who won her was an older man. He really wanted just to look at her as a trophy.
They only did it twice and he couldn't have filled up a gnat's private areas. Just to be safe, she had dragged out her old diaphragm and taken some 'morning after' pills just to be super-safe. Overall, it was a breeze.
Soon it was going to be MY weekend. For some reason, my mom insisted on packing my bag. I guess she did that to ensure that everything was clean and that I was not forgetting to do anything.
I arrived at Hilda's home. Unlike my mom, she was still married and had had to convince her husband to take a vacation back east by himself. She said she still had charity work to do.