Masquerade Balls

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 WITH IDENTITIES DISGUISED; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]

[Son is shunned by his wealthy parents; snooty friends just as bad; he gets a chance at getting even: booze, the Super Bowl, and MILF's in a hot tub.]

That stuff about '18 and you're out the door' is totally bogus (man). I understand there's no future in wearing Mr. Spock ears and playing Dungeons and Dragons or Wii in your parents' basement, but to be turned out of a home that had 2 extra bedrooms: Totally bogus (dude).

Here's the 'Four one one'. I turned 18 and was allowed one week to skedaddle. I had to go to a youth hostel (for hostile youths...trust me.) I had to grab a job changing truck tires on the turnpike. It was hard dangerous work.

One day I came back for some tax info, since I'd be filing separately now. Who should be there, playing bridge, but my loving mother and her three magpie friends? My mother had regaled them about the humor and tragedy of my ejection from home. Her friends were sympathetic to me, to my surprise. It could be that they were a pack of horny MILF's, including my mom. My mom had that common feeling about 'incest' and never so much as winked at me. The other women were of a different bent. They hooted and hollered since I had a good physique (those truck rims are heavy) and was not afraid to show it. When I came over to say hello (briefly), those hags were all over me like chimps overrunning an abandoned banana plantation. I was felt up, goosed, the whole nine yards. It was weird seeing the matronly hands of some society dame cupping my family jewels, weighing them as her 24 carat gold bracelet charms jangled. Another one squeezed my bulging biceps while the third found out what a young man's butt felt like. My mom looked on disapprovingly.

Mom: "Okay, ladies, you can return to the game. If any of you 'Tramps' want me to review the bidding or the card play for you, forget it..."

Mom was just as warm and fuzzy to them as she was to me, but at least she saved me from being groped to death.

Mom: "Oh, Jimmy, since you're here, before you go, can you take that pile of mail to the box down the street. You're a life saver, dear; it's great to see you. How are you getting along, anyway?"

It was nice that she asked, but her head was already back into the game. Her distracted partner had put her in six no trump even though mom had used precision to show a void in hearts. The opponents' lead: a four of hearts.

I finished up at my old home, grabbing my form 1099 and other tax forms received. I took that pile of mail. As I left, mom told me to be sure to get the mail in that box tonight, as her masquerade party was happening Super Sunday and upper class guests insisted on long lead times. I assured her I'd go straight there.

Well, maybe not. I went to the 'In and Out' for a couple of burgers, smothered in sautéed onions and the works. I parked in the shopping mall lot and started sorting the mail. My mother had banded the party invites together. I didn't recognize any of the names except the magpies in mom's bridge group and my mother's hairdresser. Sal (Salvatore) was a popular figure in local salons. My mom dragged me along when she couldn't find a sitter once. As I sat in the waiting room, impatiently reading a two year old copy of Vogue, I noted that he was almost a carbon copy of yours truly. Now if we were side by side, I was a bit taller, much better built, and much less curly-haired...but the general impression was of two brothers.

Well, I mailed every letter except the one to him. At home, I used a kettle's steam to open the letter to Sal. Sure enough, it was a nice raised gold leaf invitation to him for a masquerade party on Super Sunday. For football fans, there'd be a nice spread and a 60 inch plasma TV. For non-fans, there'd be a hot tub (this being southern California) and the same nice table of goodies. The key thing was that he was directed to a store in the [San Fernando] Valley and a specific mask. Okay, IT WAS ON. I was going to get that mask, go to that party, and somehow teach that 'murder of crows' a lesson.

I had to rent a Mercedes E350 for the night, as my mom would certainly have noticed my VW Golf, even in the dark. I gave my name (i.e. 'Sal') and was buzzed in at the gate. I had been careful to wear a long sleeve shirt and loose fitting casual slacks cobbled together from Ralph Lauren and Bill Blass. While the football fans started gathering before the mighty plasma screen, some 45 minutes before kickoff, the non-fans were outside on the pool patio. As it turned out, everyone including their spouses was going to watch the game. That is, with the exception of my mother and her circle of vultures. I was delighted, as I couldn't very well conduct my plan with twenty or thirty non-fans gathered in a small herd. Four women I could handle, MILF's every one of them.

As the kickoff ensued, Carla (one of the four women in our non-fan group) told 'Sal' (i.e. me) that I could go into my mother's room after the ladies were finished. There, they'd have something for me to put on for the hot tub. I waited for them, watching one of those horrible, self-indulgent, Super Bowl ads. It was 'so clever' (sic) that I couldn't figure out the company or its product.

My turn came up as Beth, another of the non-fans, told me she had been the last to change. I went in, seeing a thick, blue, velour robe. The rest of the stuff laid out for me to wear: nothing. It was strictly birthday suits. My plan was on a roll...

I climbed into the hot tub (I think they were legally required for homes in the Southland.) It was a big tub, with jets so powerful they could move a Princess Cruise line ship. I noticed that Carla 35, Beth 43, Darlene 50, as well as my mother 39, had tanked up at the open bar. Each of them had had an hour long head start and each had cocktails in hand—with chasers nearby.

Carla: [She talked in a drunken slur, as did all four of them.] "So, tell me, Sal, how does a man end up doing women's hair for a living? "

Me: [Mildly disguising my voice thru the mask.] "Well, my father was a barber, so it was a natural way to go. Big money was always in salons and not the old rundown barber shop."

Beth: "Yes, but how did a MAN come to do that. Everyone presumes you are gay. If you ARE gay, that's fine, and we don't have any problem with that. But if you aren't, I'd think that that would be a horrible stigma. I mean, getting a date would be hard."

Me: "Did you ever see Shampoo with Warren Beatty? I don't think HE had any problems getting women."

All of them laughed. I had made my point. I was hoping for one of the drunken MILF's in that rolling cauldron of bubbles and water to make a fool of herself. Sure enough, I didn't have long to wait.

Carla: "Yes, we all saw that movie. Warren was a famous alley cat in Hollywood in his day. Tell me, are YOU like that, or just a poof afraid of coming out of the closet?" [To my delight, she rose up from her position across from me, stepped across the central ridge of the tub, and pushed my legs apart. Though her hubby was inside watching the game, this gorgeous MILF thought nothing of rubbing her slavering pussy lips against my cock. I had had to use all of my self-control to keep Mr. Johnson at bay. If all the women knew Sal and KNEW he was 'differently oriented' it would've blown my cover to get hard. Now that they showed their uncertainty, I could relax. Feeling freed up, my friend grew to his full ten inch glory. Carla backed away from it as if she had seen a King Cobra with full hood extension.]

Carla: "My God, ladies, not only is Sal a man, he's a REAL man. Wow, look at that big pole. Isn't it cute...it's long enough to just stick its head above the water." [At first she patted my big cockhead as if it were a pet; then her hand started keyholing it. I closed my eyes. Carla's eyes bore down on me, while the other three (Beth, Darlene, and mom) stared at this spectacle. We were out under the stars on a perfectly clear night. Only the glittering stars and two hot tub colored lights gave any illumination. ]

Even in the almost total darkness, I could sense the women's eyes expanding to the size of a DVD disk as I spun Carla against the wall of the tub. I slowly guided my huge cock into her tingling vagina. I was careful to use my oversized cockhead to visit her clit and rub against those excited lips covering the entrance. She gave no protest but instead moaned in pleasure. The other women sighed. Darlene and Beth nervously took each other's hand. They watched in awe as my body bore down hard, pinning her against the Fiberglas hot tub. My behind clenched and unclenched. My testes, magnified by the prism of the water, must have looked the size of basketballs. They rose up as they tightened. Then, Carla gave a brief sharp moan six times. Six times my butt clenched. Six times my scrotum acted like a bellows, propelling my potent seed with frightening force the length of my vas deferens and into her unprotected and very fertile womb. She had gone off the pill years ago, as this 30 something had a 50 something hubby no longer into sex. Well, this 'hairdresser' (me) was into sex, and now his lively, active sperm were into her uterus, by the millions. The scene was just too hot for Darlene and Beth to watch; they were kissing hotly in a really tight clench. The plan was on a roll now.

I let go of Carla and her friends actually floated her exhausted body back to her distant seating position. Without taking a number, it seems like Beth felt she was next in line. Whereas Carla was an ash blonde woman almost six feet tall (taller than me), Beth was petite, brunette, a ringer for the old actress Natalie Wood. Her figure was almost identical too, with reasonably nice boobs, a great figure, and nice legs. As I sat back in my hot tub alcove, she put her hands on my love pole, trying to restore some life into him. It looked like a no go, but she leaned forward and gave me a French kiss. That did it! I was ten inches of tempered steel again.

She immediately sat in my lap. As the water splashed about her, she proceeded to put her hands on my broad shoulders and slam her 43 year old behind against my thighs. My hands rested on the velvety soft soles of her beautiful demure feet on either side of my thighs as I sat. Mr. Johnson was being pushed deeper and deeper inside of her with every up and down stroke. When I was lodged all the way in she stopped. She felt my big cock swelling, fell forward, and laid another hot kiss on me. I proceeded to lift off the hot tub bench. I grabbed her pert behind and squeezed hard (as the other ladies cooed). With my cock lodged tightly up against her cervix, confident that my 'efforts' would not be washed away, I jetted another load of baby-making sperm deep inside of her. She was a diaphragm user; during my tryst with Carla she had quickly removed it. Her womb was now totally unprotected. As I finished, it also now teemed with potential life as it was filled till it was grossly distended with my potent seed.

As I sagged back into my seat exhausted, the other women nodded as Darlene came forward. This henna haired beauty was five foot eight, with a physique about as buff as mine. She was a former Hollywood stunt woman and was in incredible shape. With powerful arms of her own, she lifted me up, took my seat, spread her legs, and then pushed me against her. As she held my exhausted body up like a limp puppet, she pumped power and virility back into me by jacking my tired unit. It took five minutes, but I was back at ten inch readiness.

She proceeded to do something I had never seen before. Everyone has seen a man seated and a woman moving up and down on the pole extended upwards. Sure. But in this case, SHE was seated, my pole was extended downward at 45 degrees, and she was moving me up and down, in and out. It was unusual, but also hot. When she sensed I was about to blow, she pushed me down one last time and held me in a bear hold. I felt like a Raggedy Andy doll, but I was still a man and had a job to do. I pumped some cum into her, careful not to give it my all. (There was one more vixen to service, and best of all, it was dear old mom.)

Darlene rose up from the hot tub alcove. She dumped me back down like a used condom, and stepped back into her own little part of the tub. With an audible "damn" she had sat on her IUD, which she had managed to remove while the first two ladies were getting it on. It had been left lying on the bottom of her hot tub position.

Now there was one more of this pack of wolves I had to service: My gorgeous mother. Mind you, as an adult I had never even kissed my mom before. Fortunately, she did not know it was me behind the façade of the mask and my Sal persona.

After the first woman, I had had to use every scrap of my manhood to muster a ten inch pillar for the lovely ladies. I was not an orgy type and had never done more than one woman in my life. Here I was trying to finish four. I was determined to nail my own beautiful mother more than any of these other hyenas. My mother laughed nervously and said no to the idea of getting it on. To my relief and delight, the other three physically lifted her up from her little hot tub hideaway and carried her into my waiting arms.

I literally put her on my lap, plugging myself into her slot slowly and gently. To my joy, she moaned in pleasure, putting her head back, shrieking to the stars above. Without further ado, I commenced to move her up and down. Her perfect breasts splashed the water. My mother's angry erect nipples (light brown and looking like small corks) scratched my chest. I could feel every mile that she walked in the malls; she was so firm, so lithe, so strong and healthy. I pulled her hard against me; in spite of her incredible coldness and diffidence, I had all the love for my mother as any kid would. I kissed her passionately, not wanting to let her go. All of a sudden she seemed to melt in my arms, allowing me to enter her deeply. It was as if she had been fighting me and now surrendered to my manhood.

Mom's pills were a distant memory, gathering dust in the medicine cabinet. With my swollen cock lodged within her cervical area, I proceeded to pump my potent baby seed deep inside of her. Whereas the other women were serviced almost mechanically, THIS was an act of love. I never realized that I loved my mom this much, or that I wanted to do anything more than slap her for being so cold.

As I thought back to nice things she had done for me over the years—things I had forgotten—I kept pumping. My soaring feeling of love kept my balls pumping, getting seed from unknown storage tanks. It was at least five minutes before I finished. I let her go and she literally floated back to her side of the tub. Her hand covered the entrance to her womanly depths, trying to block out the churning waters of the tub that might wash out some welcome intruders in there.

I had done it! Revenge was mine. These magpies--these 'Heckle and Jeckle' crows--had done quite a few numbers on my psyche over the years; now it was my turn to do a 'number' on them.

Discretion being the better part of valor, I figured it was now a good time to beat a hasty retreat. I thanked the ladies and turned to go, seeing the safety of my dry robe lying on the glass table next to the tub. As I rose up and stepped out, I heard my mother say:

Mom: "On behalf of the Corona Road Bridge Tramps, I wanted to thank you...JIMMY. Your impression of my hairdresser was pathetic. We were going to let you go through with this: we thought you might be 'micro-equipped' like your father with a three inch 'pointer' and family jewels the size of garden peas. To be honest, when we saw you were hung like a bull, our plans fell apart. I guess YOUR plans won out over our plans. While you were drilling Carla, we had two discussions. All of us agreed on an exciting bet. If you manage to get any one of us pregnant, we will blame it on our wimpy hubbies. If you don't, we will tell our hubbies about YOUR plan and see what the FOUR of them have to say about it."

Well, that was bone chilling. Besides the humiliation, telling four wealthy men that I schemed to knock up their wives would not help my job prospects in that little burgh. And that was just for starters. I now had to sweat it out and hope. Sadly, any one of the ladies could find herself preggers and quietly go to a clinic, leaving that bet in place and me in jeopardy.

Well, I went to sleep that night praying that at least one, if not all, of the women would be pregnant to save me from disaster. Frankly, I wasn't looking forward to having an open contract put out...on me.

A month later the women had my mom call during a bridge game. They all giggled as mom told me that none of them was in the family way and they were 'gonna tell on me'. I swallowed hard, not relishing what was to come. I asked mom if they were still there, still playing. Apparently they were for another two hours.

I took personal leave time and went to the nearby Walgreen's. I then zoomed over to my parents' home. I had one thin chance. First of all, though, I had to find something out.

I arrived at my parents' home. There they were, the four conspirators, playing contract bridge. As they taunted me about being up the creek once they told on me, I silenced them as I laid out four home pregnancy tests. I guessed that being in their forties up to fifty, they just figured that there was no need to test. Sure enough, they hadn't! I made them do it and give me the test strip. Well, after the prescribed time plus 30 minutes that bridge table was a sea of blue...all four resembling the azure skies above.

Given that news, mom's three friends got up en masse, ready to stampede to clinics near and far to get them 'cleaned out'. Since I had serviced those sexy hags out of spite and not love, I wasn't overly concerned about their impending use of their 'freedom to choose'. Frankly, I was comfortable if they just ended this whole thing once and for all.

To my utter surprise, my mother chimed in.

Mom: "Ladies, stop right there. Jimmy, sweetheart, come over here."

I walked over to my mom. She whispered to me. I looked at her in amazement then just followed orders. I stripped off everything I was wearing. Mom proceeded to get my huge cock up to full size; it slapped against me above my navel. Self-conscious, I still did as I was told and flexed my muscles. The other women stared openly at this display of virility. Mom was selling my virtues—literally touting my seed.

Mom: "Ladies, I don't have to point out the lateness of the time on your biological clocks. I also don't have to point out that however hot you think you are, cougars in real life don't bag the hottest guys. Well, the other night you did bag this hot guy; in fact, you now carry his fetus. Sure, you CAN run down and kill it, ending your prospects of being a sexy mommy one last time. OR, you can join me as I proudly let my belly swell with child, then just as proudly give birth. You know your wimpy hubbies. They're dumb enough and vain enough to buy any cover story and take credit for your baby. So please, join me and have my son's baby."

The ladies had a huddle. Beth and Darlene had been won over, but Carla wasn't budging.

Carla: "Sorry Sue, your son is a stud, but there are plenty more out there. I think I'll take the three of us up to the Bay area and quietly get us 'cleaned out'. Hate to ruin your parade and all."

Mom was furious. She considered that a challenge. Mom turned me like a robot towards Carla, who stood at least 12 feet away. With one hand cupping my family jewels, drooping down heavy with seed, her other hand keyholed my lengthy staff. Soon her hand was a blur. I started to moan, my head fell back. Her delicate hand felt my bloated orange sized testes tighten and rise up as they prepared to catapult an insane volume of sperm-laden cum across the room.