Gus Johnson had been on tenterhooks all evening. He couldn't concentrate on anything. His work sat undone, the television blared without his noticing it. He was pacing in the living room, wondering where his wife and son were. He had watched them go out together, Angela dressed like a fucking slut, practically begging to be taken advantage of. And what had he done about it?
"Nothing," he growled, out loud. "Fucking shit, that's what I did."
But part of him knew that if it happened again, he would again stand aside. In fact, that was why his penis was like a steel rod in his pants. Every once in a while, he would stroke it through his clothes. It felt as hard and as long as he had ever known it. Because, truth be told, this was as intensely exciting a scenario as he had ever imagined.
His wife was out on a hot date with their son.
"Oh shit," he groaned as he felt a shiver run through his whole being. He couldn't touch himself or he would explode. And he wanted so desperately to save that feeling for a while longer. He had an idea it would only get better.
He heard the soft purr of the Porsche (HIS Porsche, mind you), as the sleek car pulled into the driveway. The car stopped, the engine shut off. For several agonizing moments nothing happened. He didn't dare look out the window, the pain and desire warring within his mixed-up psyche. In his mind's eye he pictured the beautiful woman in the skimpy black dress and the handsome boy in the blazer leaning towards each other to share a sloppy, tongue-filled kiss.
"Ohhhh FUUUCKK," he nearly screamed. What kind of torture was this?
The car door slammed shut, first one, and then after a few seconds, the other. He imagined the couple proceeding up the front walk. Maybe they were holding hands? No, maybe the boy had his hand around the woman's waist. Or worse, her shoulder, letting his fingers dangle down to touch the upper swell of her breast. His cock was ready to explode. He only hoped his heart could take this.
*****
"Does a guy get a good-night kiss on the first date?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
Max leaned close to his mother, his eyes searching hers. All he saw was nervous excitement, acceptance. She was still flushed from her orgasm of minutes before, her eyes sparkling, her lips full and parted. Her tongue anxiously darted out to wet those lips.
And he kissed her again, hungrily attacking her mouth with his. Their tongues met in a wild duel of sexual appetite. Her slim body molded itself against his, her breasts squashed against his powerful chest. He could feel the hot peaks of her nipples through his thin shirt.
Angela was lost against him, crushed in his powerful arms. Was it possible to love two men so strongly, so passionately, so sexually? She felt his steel-hard erection against her, pushing into the lower part of her abdomen. So close, she panted to herself, so close to home! She didn't care that she and her new lover were illuminated brightly on their front stoop. 'Let the fucking neighbors see,' she exulted. 'Let them witness this moment!'
Max loved the feel of his cock caught between their bodies, and wanting to increase the pressure on his erection, pulled her tight, one hand on her back, the other lower. His mother accepted the move, pulling deeply into him. His hand fell lower, lower, onto the exciting curve of her ass, the firm cheek thinly disguised by the black dress. He let his fingers curl into the crack of her butt, pushing the material deep.
Angela felt the fingers in the depths of her ass, pushing further, seeking more deeply. She crushed her mouth harder against her son's mouth, urging him further. And when she felt the slide of his middle finger reach that most private of holes, she moaned deeply into her boy.
"Mmmmm...," she murmured, pulling away from the intense kiss, but not disengaging her body from the contact with his fingers or his cock. "Careful there, Cowboy," she purred sexily. "Gotta save something for later, you know."
"Do I really have to, Mom?" Max let his finger rub over what he was pretty sure was her asshole. That sexy sexy place he had been wishing to see ever since she had stood leaning on his desk with her ass pushed towards him.
"Yes, son," she giggled, "you really have to. That is, if you want your special reward."
Reluctantly, the handsome boy let his fingers slide out from that special haven, drifting down the back of her leg in a loving caress. He allowed his mother to pull away, while she found the key in her purse.
*****
Those few minutes when he knew that Angela and Max were out of the car but not in the house seemed endless to Gus. But when he heard the key in the lock, he hurried to his office, trying desperately to seem unconcerned. The front door opened, and he popped his head out to greet his family.
The sight of them was mind-blowing. His beautiful wife's carefully coiffed blonde hair was in disarray, strands stuck to her face in the light sheen of sweat that covered her. Her lips looked bruised, her dress wrinkled.
And Max looked as bad, his eyes bright, his cheeks flushed. And the way he turned quickly away suggested to his father that he was hiding the physical evidence of their mutual arousal.
"Did you have a good time, folks?" Gus hoped his cheery voice didn't sound too strained.
"Of course," Angela replied, calmly, as she tucked her hair behind one ear. "Max, sweetie, go upstairs and get ready. I'll be there shortly."
The boy bounded up the stairs, his face flaming hot. He had known that it might be strange facing his father after his date with his mother, but it was more difficult than he had imagined. Even so, he knew what he wanted, and that involved obeying his mother's wishes right now. And in any case, he thought, as he closed the door to his room and took off his blazer, wasn't it Dad who told him to go ahead with this? He was pretty sure that his father hadn't known what he was referring to when he asked him about pursuing a relationship with an older woman, he reminded himself as he stripped down to his boxers, but even so.
Downstairs, Angela smiled serenely at her husband, and started to proceed up the stairs herself. Gus panicked, and raced out to follow her. He couldn't miss the way her dress clung damply to the back of her thighs, and his cock pulsed again in his pants.
"Honey," he said in a strained voice, "what did you mean by Max getting ready?"
"Do you really want to know?" Angela kept on walking up the stairs. Gus came up behind her.
"Shouldn't I?" She turned to face him. He saw self-assurance on her pretty features.
