Being under the table and fingering Mom as she sat at the Election Monitoring table seemed harmless enough. Hidden by the table skirt, no one could see us and it was just our little secret. I would not recommend it to anyone, though, unless he has set the stage. So, I guess a little back story is appropriate.
John and I had been friends forever, both deciding to attend the local university instead of going away. We were no different from any other guys, and that meant that once we went off to college and had our first taste of college pussy, we became fixated on our Moms. That may sound a bit on the edge of "right," but I don't think our fantasies were any different from the fantasies of any son. You see, every son wants to fuck his Mother. Once he becomes a man and knows what real sex, rather than imaginary sex, is like, he wonders how his Mother fucks. Every son masturbates to the thought of his Mother. Every son makes attempts to see how far he can get. It's just the ten to twenty percent, more or less, who progress along the road to heaven. Every Mother has experienced a sexual moment with her son. Every son has made an overt sexual move on his Mother. Maybe it was just a touch on her arm, a playful rub on her fanny, or maybe even more. It's all in the intent of the actor, isn't it? If the recipient is in a receptive mood, a playful rub against her butt might be interpreted as just what it is intended, and lead to more. If she's not in on the game, then it may not lead to more. But it's there.
I can remember, as distinctly as if it happened yesterday, when I decided to really make my first move on Mom. John and I were in my room, playing a video game and talking smack. When Mom stuck her head in the door and asked if we wanted a snack, we were so engrossed in the game that we said no, we'd get something later. When she left, John missed an easy shot and I punched him on the arm.
"Dude. How could you miss that?"
"Jeez. Your Mom is beautiful. Don't you ever notice that?"
I didn't know what to say. John and I talked about sex a lot, but our Mothers had always been off-limits. It's not that we had an understood rule about it, but talking about our Mothers was just something we didn't do. We talked about our friends' Mothers all the time, but never our own. We each had our favorite among our friends' Moms. John liked Tommy's Mom, Beth, and I liked Joe's Mom, Marianna. But our own Moms were off-limits, so I didn't know how to respond.
"Uh. Yeah. She's okay."
"She's more than okay, Dude. I'd put her above Beth. Any day."
Now that was saying something. John had described to me many a time the fantasies he had about Tommy's Mom and if he put my Mom above her, then that meant he had some pretty hot images in his head.
The game was paused and I whispered to him, "Would you?"
"Oh, hell, yes," he replied fervently. "Wouldn't you?"
Of course I would. I thought of little else. She was the star in practically all my jerk off sessions. But I didn't know where this conversation was going. Maybe John, with his quirky sense of humor, was trying to trick me into a confession he could use to taunt me endlessly. But what the hell? John was my best friend, and we had few secrets. So what was one more?
"In a New York minute," I whispered back to him. "She drives me crazy." But I wasn't going to put that out there without something from him, so I continued. "Don't you want it with Meghan?"
"Oh, fuck, yes!" John was grinning from ear to ear. He repeated it. "Oh, fuck, yes."
It was like a dam had burst. All those years of talking around the subject and now, at last, we could let it all out.
John took the lead. "Can you imagine that red haired bush in your face while you did 69 with her?"
I laughed out loud. "Are you kidding me? I doubt she's ever done that, or even knows what it means." As far as I knew, that was the truth. I had never seen Mom do anything overtly sexual with Dad. As far as I knew, she only had sex three times, and that had produced me and my sisters.
But John had set me to thinking, and the more I thought, the more reckless I felt. I have always had an analytical bent, so I got a notebook and started scribbling. I established a sort of continuum, with "Do Nothing" at one pole, and "Mom, Would You Like To Give Me a Blowjob" at the other. Clearly, both would produce the same result, which would be no progress, and the more effective response would be somewhere in the middle. Now I just had to figure out what that response should be.
The next time John and I got together, I pitched the idea to him so we could war-game some courses of action. He loved it.
"Bill, my man. I love how you think. So you're saying we go into this with a plan? You think that could work? I mean, really?"
"I think it could. It's at least worth a try. Look, in any interaction, if one person has a plan and the other does not, which do you think has the more likely chance of success?"
John thought a bit. "Well, yeah, I get what you're saying, but this is different. In my case, Mom may not have a plan she's thought about, but I'm guessing there is an established line she won't cross. What Mother has thought about fucking her Son?"
I laughed. "Show me one, and we'll know who to fuck next. Maybe Beth?"
That got a laugh out of John, because Beth was, apart from Meghan, the Mom he most wanted to fuck. "Oh, yeah," he moaned.
I continued. "I'm not sure you're right about that, though, Johnny."
"Right about what?"
"That Mothers never think about fucking their Sons."
"You think?" John furrowed his brow. "You really think?"
"Well, I've read that Mothers do think, sometimes, about their Sons as sexual creatures, especially once the Sons are finally men and have what the Mothers think might be a sex life. They can't help it. They have to think about whether he's a good lover and what his package may be like. From there, it's a short step for the brain to make the connection - what would he be like to fuck? They can't help it."
"But doesn't that leave us out? If there are exceptions to any rule, then our Mothers are the exception to that one."
