Mom and My Friends
Kathryn M. Burke
I can't say that I was thrilled when my mom and dad split up.
Dad, who was an insurance salesman, had run off with his secretary, who was a little over half his age. How tacky! Mom, as you can imagine, was devastated: she plunged into a depression that made her all weepy. And I, her son, as the resident male of the house, was the recipient of a lot of that weeping. Well, that wasn't so bad: I kind of felt more adult when I held this female in my arms and tried to comfort her. It's kind of what guys are supposed to do, you know?
You have to realize that my mom's quite a looker. Lovely dark hair framing a gorgeous face—haunting gray eyes, slender nose, Cupid's-bow mouth, a gentle curve around the jawline—and a figure that would make most guys go all weak in the knees. I know I'm not supposed to say this about my mom, but she had great tits and a great butt! When I said things like that about other girls, Mom looked at me severely and said, "You know, Malcolm, women aren't just a bunch of body parts."
I knew that, of course—but what I'm trying to say is that Mom was the total package. Dad must have been crazy to have dumped this divine creature for that brainless secretary.
The other big problem with Mom and Dad breaking up is that it came at just about the worst time. I'd turned eighteen and was looking forward to going off to the local college. But Mom couldn't afford to pay for my lodging on campus just on her salary (she worked in human resources at the U), so I had to give up the idea of living in a dorm and would have to stay home and commute to school. I felt real dopey doing that. I knew I'd miss a lot of the fun that comes with dorm life—especially certain kinds of fun, if you follow my meaning. And I was sure people would ridicule me for being so poor that I couldn't afford to live in the dorm, but instead was stuck in the same bedroom I'd grown up in, with my mom being my caretaker and guardian, just as if I was a little kid.
But, surprisingly, things didn't turn out so bad. The dorms on campus aren't all they're cooked up to be, and pretty soon I found that my house—which was only about a twenty-minute walk from campus—became sort of a popular spot for my friends to hang out in. God knows there was a whole lot of space there, lots more than in anyone's dorm room. And since we couldn't legally drink, we couldn't go to bars to shoot the bull.
So my fellow freshmen—only guys, since I didn't get to know a whole lot of girls at first—began coming over with some regularity. If they were there during evenings, my mom met them and really charmed their asses off: she was good at being a hostess, and also at leaving us alone so we could talk about guy stuff without having a female—especially a parent—around. She was a great mom!
Well, around the middle of October something strange happened.
I'd brought two guys over—Frank and Joseph—for dinner. Mom loved to cook and was happy to whip up steaks, baked potatoes, and mixed veggies for us. A lot better than horrible campus food at the cafeteria, believe you me! There was even a (store-bought) cherry pie for dessert. We were comfortably replete when we moseyed on up to my bedroom to listen to our favorite bands and chew the fat.
Surprisingly, Mom was even tolerant about the music I put on—mostly heavy metal—even though her own tastes tended toward classical or folk rock. I don't know what she did in the evenings whenever I had my friends over, but she never bothered us and never complained that we'd turned up the music too loud.
Anyway, the three of us were trying to shout over the music when all of a sudden the CD came to an end and there was this dead silence. We fell into silence too: we could even hear the crickets outside in the dark. It was about two weeks before Halloween, and we were already trying to get in the mood for partying that night.
But the house wasn't entirely quiet—and it was Frank (who claimed to have had all kinds of experience with girls, although I'm not sure I believed him) who shushed me as I was about to say something.
"Quiet, Malcolm," he whispered. "Lemme listen."
"What the hell's going on?" I said, also whispering, although I didn't know why.
"Shhh!"
he hissed. Then, after a few moments: "Do you hear that?"
"I hear
something,
" Joseph said, "but I can't make out what it is."
Frank looked me dead in the face. "Is there anyone in the house except us and your mom?"
"No, of course not," I said.
A sly grin came over Frank's face. "Then it's her."
"Who's her?" I said, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"What do you think those sounds might be?"
I pricked my ears up to listen. Like Joseph, I'd heard something but wasn't sure what it could possibly be. It sound like—like someone moaning.
Omigod! Was my mom in pain? Should we help her? I actually said something like that to Frank.
He chuckled in a way that I didn't like. "She's not in pain—I guarantee you that."
"Then what?" I said.
As if making some momentous announcement, he said, "She's playing with herself."
I guess I was something of a rube. Did women play with themselves, the way guys did? Well, of course they didn't have cocks. I guess I was so dumb that I thought women just took our cocks into themselves and got pleasure that way. The idea of their getting pleasure—actually having orgasms—
on their own
was something that hadn't occurred to me.
"No," I said, "that's not what she's doing." The whole idea made my face all hot.
"It is," Joseph said. "That's
exactly
what she's doing."
"Well," I said desperately, "what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing's wrong with it," Frank said. "Nothing at all."
"My dad's not around, so she's not—you know, getting it from him. She's not getting it from
anybody.
It's really sad."
"Maybe I can do something about that," Frank said.
And, as I gaped at him in amazement, he began to strip.
He undressed in about a minute, since it was still a fairly warm day for October. The moment Joseph saw what he was doing, he began taking his clothes off also.
Of course I'd seen guys naked in high school gym class, but I had to admit these guys were pretty buff. Both had tried out for the football team: they hadn't made it, but they'd come close. They were tall, muscular, and their cocks—which were hardening by the second—seemed to be between seven and nine inches long. Frank was even tentatively stroking his cock, and Joseph was just letting it get hard through his imagination, without even touching it.
I thought they were just going to jerk off right there, thinking about my mom playing with herself. But Frank had other ideas in mind.
He was heading out my bedroom door.
"Hey!" I said. "What are you doing?"
"I think your mom," he said, "needs some help."
Joseph followed him.
Mom's bedroom was just across the landing from mine. The door was closed, but I knew she never locked it. I followed my friends as they stood in front of her door. Even Frank, bold as he was, felt a bit of hesitation and awkwardness at this crucial moment. But he put those thoughts aside, thrust open the door, and stalked right in, Joseph on his heels.
From my position in the landing, I could see everything.
My mom was lying on her side in big king-size bed (which looked awfully big for just one person). She was naked. Her back was turned toward the door, and I could tell that one hand was buried in the space between her legs.
I got a good look at my mother's backside. Omigod, it was fabulous! The long, smooth back, the dark hair falling over the sloping shoulders, the gentle curve of the hip, and of course the round, firm bottom were all so heavenly that I thought I was looking at a painting by some Renaissance master.
Mom was so preoccupied with what she was doing that she didn't even hear the door opening or my friends standing behind her. She was continuing to move her hand up and down between her legs, and she was moaning pretty loud now—even louder than when we'd heard her from my bedroom.
Only when Frank boldly walked around to the other side of the bed, right in front of her face, did she let out a little yelp. "Omigod!" she cried. "What are you doing here?"
"We thought we'd lend a hand," Frank said softly. But I had a feeling it was a lot more than a hand that was going to be involved.
Frank's cock was just at the level of Mom's face, and as he brought it close to her lips she opened her mouth obediently and let about half of it in. As she was working it with her lips and tongue, Joseph came over and started stroking my mom's nether regions—her hips, her butt, her thighs, and (when Mom unconsciously opened her legs) her pussy. He was stroking his own cock himself, getting harder by the second.
I was amazed at how readily Mom adapted to this new situation. But I couldn't help remembering how, during dinner, she had kept touching Frank and Joseph on their shoulders or their faces. I once caught her gazing at Joseph's butt and licking her lips, and another time she'd actually gotten behind Frank as he was sitting at the dining table and took his head in her hands and pressed it against her chest.
So I guess she was liking this double attention.
I now saw Mom reach around and grab Frank's butt. I knew women had a thing for male bottoms, but Mom was clutching and squeezing it just the way a guy squeezes a girl's tits. By now she had engulfed nearly the whole of Frank's cock into her mouth. Way to go, Mom, with the deep throat! Meanwhile, Joseph was rubbing her pussy for all he was worth, and I could see that his fingers were getting wet.
Then three things happened all at once.
Frank, uttering some heavy groans, started spurting into Mom's mouth. He held her head in place as he sent his come right down her throat, and she swallowed it all. At the same time, she was coming out with these weird, high-pitched mewing sounds: she was coming too! And when Joseph saw what was happening, he exploded, sending his come all over Mom's belly and stomach; some of it, I think, actually dripped down into her bush.