"That's at least four times in less than two weeks, Tom," said Carol, returning the phone to its cradle on the kitchen wall. She sat back down at the dinette table, where she was having coffee with her son before both of them headed off for work. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"
The call had been from Carol's next door neighbor, Sandra Parsons. Sandra was a divorcee, not quite 50, about the same age as Carol. Sandra's grown son Paul had recently accepted a six-month reassignment to his company's Head Office in another city, leaving Sandra without a man around the house, at least temporarily.
Carol had been widowed several years earlier. Her husband had been a pal of Sandra's ex-husband, in the way that men are who borrow tools from each other and who talk over the property line fence with a beer in one hand and a rake in the other. Now both of the husbands were gone from the women's lives, and now their sons were the men the women counted on for help around home.
Tom and Paul had grown up together. Because they lived next door to each other, and were always in the same grade at school, they'd been best buddies for most of their lives. On the day Paul packed up his car and headed out of town to his new work assignment, he'd taken Tom aside to talk to him privately.
"I'd like it if you and your Mom could sorta keep an eye on my mother, Tom," said Paul. "You know, just make sure she's OK while I'm away. I don't want her to get too lonely. Since my Dad left she's gotten very used to me always being around for her."
Tom agreed. It's what best friends do for each other, he thought, and he'd be happy to do it for Paul. Tom made a point of stopping by Mrs. Parson's house the very next afternoon, to tell her that he'd be happy to help out with 'man stuff' around the Parsons house if she ever needed that kind of help. She'd thanked him for his kind offer. Recently she'd been getting quite a lot of that kind of help from Tom.
"Sandra wants you to help her move a sofa or something tomorrow," said Carol. "I'm beginning to get a bit concerned about this, Tom. She seems to need your help an awful lot. You probably wouldn't have volunteered to help her if you'd known how much she was going to demand of you."
Tom laughed. "I do my full share of the chores around here, Mom. Why should you care if Mrs. Parsons gets me to do a little heavy lifting or whatever over at her place in my spare time?"
"It's the 'whatever' part that bothers me, Tom. I don't know all of what Sandra asks you to do for her over there, and I don't care really, but it doesn't look right for an eligible bachelor like yourself to be spending a lot of time in the home of an unattached woman old enough to be ... well, she's my age, for heaven's sake."
Tom laughed again. "C'mon, Mom, don't let your imagination run away with you. I don't know what you think Mrs. Parsons and I are up to, but it's nothing you should be worried about. Why would I mess around with some neighbor lady when I've got the prettiest gal in the county living right in my own home?"
"I'm serious, Tom," Carol said, belying her own words by laughing at her son's teasing. "Sandra is a good friend," said Carol. "I like her. And I don't want the neighbors gossiping about her ... and about you, either."
"OK, Mom. I'll tell Mrs. Parsons about your concerns for her welfare when I'm over there tomorrow. My guess is that she'll have a good laugh about it. Maybe she'll want to tell you herself not to worry your pretty head about it. End of discussion."
Tom leaned over to kiss his mother's cheek. Carol couldn't help smiling at her son's references to her attractiveness. Tom had obviously inherited his father's gift for sweetly subtle flirtation, and her son's gentle teasing added significantly to her enjoyment of her morning coffee. She loved things that Tom said and did that brought back pleasant memories of her late husband. There were moments when she could swear she could see her husband's eyes when she looked into her son's eyes, and at those moments she knew that if she wasn't Tom's mother she could easily have fallen in love with him just as she had with his father.
Tom gulped down the last of his coffee, got up from his chair, said a quick goodbye to his mother and headed off for work. On the drive across town he wondered if his mother would ever directly question Sandra about the nature of his occasional help efforts over at the Parsons house and, if she ever did, what Sandra's reply might be. He addressed Mrs. Parsons as Sandra now, as she'd asked him to, but only when he was helping out over at her place. He knew that Sandra wouldn't be totally upfront and candid with Carol about Tom's duties at the Parsons house, because some of what she asked him to do was exactly the kind of help Carol was afraid the neighbors might turn into ugly gossip.
Tom had been fucking Sandra Parsons for almost two months now, on about the same routine schedule that her son Paul had been fucking her for two years.
Sandra had made it clear to Tom on his first visit to her place that his tasks there would include giving her at least two orgasms when she was in the mood for sex, a duty her son had performed routinely until his recent job relocation. On that first day, minutes after Tom learned about Sandra's ongoing incestuous relationship with her son Paul, Tom also learned that sex with a woman much older than himself could be as good or better than any sex he'd ever had with women of his own age. From that day on, Tom had a different view about his relationship with his best friend, Paul. And a different view of his relationship with his own mother, Carol.
Tom remembered that when he and Paul were in their teens, Paul would sometimes joke with Tom about how 'hot' Carol was and how much he'd like to fuck her. Once Tom got over his shock and disgust at this idea, he got back at Paul by saying that if Paul ever tried such a thing he'd have to fuck Paul's mother in revenge. The idea of fucking each other's mothers became something of a running joke between them for awhile, and then the joke got old and was never mentioned again.
Neither of them could have known back then that both of them would someday get the chance to fuck Paul's mother on a regular basis, and Tom couldn't have known back then that learning about Paul's incest with Sandra would affect the way he looked now at his own mother.
Until he discovered what an avaricious sexual creature Sandra was, Tom hadn't given much thought to the sexual desires and needs of women much older than himself. Now that he was fucking Sandra regularly, the thought that Carol, his own mother, might conceivably have sexual desires and needs of her own arose in Tom's mind for the very first time. He understood now that Sandra had found someone, her son Paul, to look after her sexual needs after her husband split. But what was his own mother doing about that sort of thing? Was it any of his business? Should he make it his business to find out?
He thought he might one day ask Sandra about this, but in fact it was Sandra who brought the subject up first.
* * * * *
The next afternoon Tom helped Sandra Parsons shuffle her Living Room furniture around a bit. After he'd positioned the sofa exactly where she now wanted it, Sandra spread some towels over it to protect the upholstery, took off her clothes, and then took off Tom's clothes. Tom fucked her on the sofa for awhile. And then she fucked him on it for awhile.
Tom loved saddling himself between Sandra's upraised thighs and simply thrusting into her as deep and as hard and as fast as he could. He thought that Sandra must be pretty close to his idea of an ideal fuckmate. She liked sex of the simple, no-nonsense kind, where both parties know exactly what they want to get from it, both know how to get it, and neither of them stops until they've both gotten it. And she was good at it. She knew how to work her vaginal muscles to grip him, almost as tightly as he could stand it. Luckily no one could hear Tom's deep grunts and Sandra's high-pitched squeals as their orgasms approached, and their combined roars on those rare occasions when they managed to climax together might possibly have frightened anyone within earshot of their debauchery.
Sandra didn't demand a lot of variety in her sex games, but she knew how to spice them up in simple ways that added at least a bit of spontaneity to her routines. For one thing, she would get Tom to fuck her wherever they happened to be for the chores she'd asked him over to help out with, as soon as the last of the work was done. They'd done it on the floors of several different rooms, bent over the edge of a kitchen counter, standing up in a shower enclosure, on the Dining Room table, on top of the clotheswasher as it went through its most violently vibrating cycle, and once in her garage in the back seat of her car.
"Do you mind if I sometimes call you Paul when we fuck?" Sandra once asked him, her way of confessing how much she missed having sex with her darling son. Tom laughed and told her she could call him anything she wanted if it made it better for her. Better for her always meant better for him.
And then Sandra told him, "You can call me Mom if you want to, Tom. I'd like that, you know."
Tom was a bit shocked by this, not only because her request was bizarre but because it was so deliciously nasty. He quickly learned that, "Do you like sucking my cock, Sandra?" didn't sound nearly as exciting to Tom as did, "Do you like sucking your son's cock, Mom?"
It became their regular routine, both of them playing the game of pretending to be mother and son. Sometimes they were Sandra and Paul, and sometimes they were Carol and Tom. And one day Sandra upped the stakes a little more, by asking Tom the question he'd been carefully avoiding asking himself. She asked Tom if he would really like to fuck his own mother. Tom blurted out, "God, yes!" without a moment's thought, somewhat shocking himself by the complete lack of hesitatation in his reply.
"I think I should have a talk with your mother, Tom," smiled Sandra. "My guess is that Carol is more than a little horny these days, and I don't think she's fully aware of the options available to her."
