[Β©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 WITH IDENTITIES DISGUISED; THIS STORY HAS A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED: HERE BE DRAGONS; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]
[Son is cruelly kicked to the curb at 18 by father; son waits for day to get even and does, replacing him in mom's bed, consigning him to ignominy.]
Yes, I know. I couldn't live at home forever. Still, did I have to be kicked to the curb just because I enjoyed my 18th birthday? Seems to me that a three bedroom home with only one being used would have an opening. Oh well, their house had their rules. I was out on my ear. It might not have hurt so much if he had given me a few bucks to get settled somewhere, or allowed me time to pack. Worst of all, he had this lousy grin on his kisser as he saw me fumbling with my few measly possessions as I headed off into the frigid wintry unknown. With nowhere else to go, I had to shiver the night away in the rundown men's mission downtown. The night did not pass without an incident. I might've been stronger than any three of them, but there were a lot of bums there; my wallet was history. The next morning I was sharing a newspaper's want ads with a fellow mission-member, sporting a black eye from the night before. Father drove by in his Audi. I was hoping he had second thoughts, or at least had a few dollars to assuage his conscience. In the event, he just tapped his horn lightly and gave me the 'good bye' gesture, wearing that same lousy grin as he drove away.
Having barely managed to finish high school, I was not exactly the 'college kind'. I would have to get by with only the hallowed 'H.S.' degree. Well, it certainly got my foot in the door. Within only three days of training, I was running a fast food drive-thru with the best of them. My mother would've been so proud...if only she ate at a fast food dive like that.
Having to work from 60 to 70 hours per week, I was not exactly free to pursue a wild and crazy social life. In fact, my off-time was mostly spent lifting weights while watching TV. If that sounds like the life of a prison inmate, you're not far off.
I got a mild 'reprieve' from this drudgery with a call I received from my sainted mother. My mom was 39, a minor star in the constellation of the area's social circle. If you saw 'Beverly Hills Wives', you had a picture of my mom. After hair dye, some minor surgery, and an occasional diet, my mom was a blonde haired, blue eyed, mature, MILF sexpot. I don't know if her boobs were real or 'store bought', but her blouse was always straining to burst open, the buttons about to pop off. With a slim waist, motherly hips, shapely legs and the sexiest smooth feet in America, mom was sizzling hot. If she had spoken up for me, perhaps even insisted that I could stay at home till I got a good job, then I'd have felt something for her. In the event, she was utterly silent as my daddy delighted in shooing me away. The fact that it was freezing cold; I could only carry so much of my things; and I was almost penniless didn't seem to matter.
Completely unknown to me, I was kicked out so unceremoniously because my father was frightened that I might take-over the mantle of 'man of the house'. For years he had pursued long distance bicycling, in spite of my mom's concerns. Sure enough, one day he turned up totally, and I mean totally, impotent. My gorgeous mother might've been more sympathetic had she not warned him of this. Now, all he could see was a wealthy wife with a spectacular figure not being 'serviced' by him at home. The specter of a 'hunk' son under the same roof was just too much for him to contemplate, hence my ejection. It turns out he had good cause for concern. My beautiful mother was indeed very horny and my maturing physique and good looks had not gone unnoticed. More than once she had thought of me as she played with her battery-powered 'little friend' that she kept in the nightstand drawer. All of this was academic as mom called me one day:
Mom: "How are you doing, dear? I know we haven't spoken since you moved out, but your father said it would be better for you. I'm sure that you could use some extra money these days, so how would you like to 'tend bar' for us during our big annual party? You would only have to make drinks and clean up the bar. So, how about it?"
Me: "Okay, sure. I'm off on Saturday night. Did you e-mail me this list?"
Mom: "Yes, honey I did. I hope it wasn't presumptuous of me, but I thought since you were coming here, why should I have to make a separate trip?"
Me: [Reviewing the printout from my mom.] "Okay, I went shopping with you every week as I grew up, so I know the veggies you like, etc. One thing, though, you listed FunTex, those things with the strings, I guess. Do I have to get those?"
Mom: "No, you don't."
Me: "I can't believe you still need those things."
Mom: "I don't think this is a subject we should be discussing."
Me: "You're right! So, I don't have to get them...good"
Mom: "On second thought, I might need them. Your father has my car--mine is in for service. I don't want to discuss my cycles; suffice it to say that I might need those things. Your father would never pick them up for me. So, be a dear and pick them up. Like I said, I don't want to discuss my personal cycles, like whether I am 'safe' or incredibly fertile at the moment. I will just tease you and say I am one or the other. See you at the party, sweetheart."
Well, I arrived hours before the party was to start, handing mom all the party supplies that she had forgotten to pickup during her weekly shopping. Oh, I also handed her that box of Funtex. I was glad to be free of it. To my utter shock, my society mom kissed me in thanks. She then turned away from me in the kitchen. Wearing only a green house robe, she ripped open the box and inserted one of those things inside of her. What was even more unexpected was that she moaned ever so slightly as she shoved that cotton thing up her damp, welcoming vagina. For the first time I wanted in there. My cock suddenly erected, pumping to nine inches of titanium hard metal. My seed reservoirs just below it expanded like small balloons being inflated.
As my mom turned back towards me, she proceeded to close that short robe. She was a bit slow though; before she could button back up, I saw that she was nude...NUDE...underneath that damn robe. I caught a glimpse, perhaps picoseconds, of her perfect breasts, nipples and all. We were talking playmate foldout quality, too. That did it! Somehow I was going to combine getting back at my snooty father (for making me sleep at the homeless shelter just after leaving home) with bedding my beautiful mother. I looked into my wonderful mother's sparkling blue eyes. To my bewilderment, she then nodded to me. If only I had known what that meant. I was welcome 'in there' at that point; as it turned out, there was no need for the extreme steps I took at the party.
My plan was not all that clever, really. I was going to be the bartender for the soiree. I would give everyone very mild drinks. If there was a mature babe there that I wanted to have a 'go' at, I would use some 180 proof alcohol to spike her drink. Towards the end of the party, I would spike both of my parents' drinks. Being petite and loving, I would spike mom's drinks much, much less than his. With any luck, old daddy would be out like a light while mom would be awake, but open to 'my attentions'.
Well, that's how it all played out. Most everyone liked the drinks I made (I had to use a cheat-sheet since I was not a drinker.) No one complained that I barely put any booze in drinks, since I always used a proper measure when they were looking. During the drama that was that cocktail party, I had one goal, bedding mom. I had no idea that I would briefly be sidetracked. But, being a male, I was a hunter of opportunity, and another MILF presented herself to me: