On his twentieth birthday, before the main party Charlie celebrated in a bar with his mum Patricia - Pat for short - her best friend Alison, and his two best friends Will and Grace.
After a few drinks and a lot of laughter, the bar began to fill up. Charlie and his mum were sitting on one side of a booth, with Ali on the end of the table and Will and Grace, who had hardly stopped cuddling all night, opposite.
Poor Alison was constantly being jostled by standing patrons who were running out of room. Then when the singer / guitarist started up, the lights dimmed and people began dancing about. Alison was practically being bumped every few seconds by apologetic but frequent passers-by so Pat shouted at her to join Charlie and her on the bench seat. As Ali squeezed in, Pat was sitting on one of Charlie's thighs.
Will and Grace had become engrossed in each other, and Alison, who was never a great drinker, began to drift off.
Pat was still drinking quite freely, and Charlie was buzzing but not drunk. Even so, he was not quite sure if he was imagining that his mother was grinding her pussy against him. He was wearing slacks, she a short dress and shoulder wrap.
He concentrated on his thigh, and .. yes, there it was. She had clenched her thighs and rubbed herself on him. Hadn't she? He thought "Fuck, I think my mum is getting horny on my leg. What the FUCK do I do about it?"
He decided simply to pretend nothing was happening and see what she did.
Will and Grace yelled some goodbyes and thank-yous, and off they went leaving Charlie with his mum and her tipsy, half-asleep friend.
Pat was just forty years old. She was of medium height and slight build, so her weight on his thigh was not uncomfortable. Charlie had always thought she was pretty, and had looked at her often, noticing her small firm breasts and tight buttocks, appreciating her sexy body but in a non-sexual way. Until now. He was SURE he could feel heat between her thighs. And maybe dampness? No, surely he was imagining it.
Seconds turned into minutes and he was becoming aroused. Not hard, but with heightened senses and an increased heart rate.
THERE! Hadn't she just pushed her arse back and rubbed half the length of his thigh with her pussy? He was determined to find out if she was turned on or just seat-dancing, so making sure not to be in time with the music he tensed his thigh muscle twice, to pulse his mum's pussy in an unmistakable challenge to her.
Pat froze for two seconds, then he felt her tense her thighs twice back.
One more test. Three pulses. Answered by three more.
His heart raced and his cock stirred. He took it a step further. Charlie had one hand loosely on his mum's hip as she sat on his thigh, which he moved to below her bum and gently stroked high up on her thigh. So high that she could be in no doubt this was a sexual caress, not the innocent caress of a son.
All the while the music continued and patrons jiggled and jostled about in their various worlds, all of them with their backs to the booth in which Charlie and his mother were getting each other hot.
Charlie's world had shrunk to a few centimetres of his thigh and his fingertips. Nothing else existed. He curled his fingers under Pat's upper thigh and towards her pussy. To show her approval of what her son was doing, Pat leaned forward and to the side so his fingers touched the crotch of her panties briefly. There was no doubt now. She was wet and the heat of his mother's pussy even in that brief moment made his head spin.
Pat pretended to lean over to straighten her skirt and flipped the hem out of the way as she sat back down on Charlie, this time directly in his lap and not on one thigh.
To anybody standing just an arm's length away it just looked like a woman sitting on a guy's lap. Nobody sat in the now-empty bench opposite them, the crowd being more interested in the singer.
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Pat could feel how her son was getting hard. When she first sat on his thigh she had no alterior motive, but she'd rocked sideways a couple of times inadvertently and the sensation of his hard thigh muscle directly under her pussy gave her a tingle that she hadn't felt in years.
Charlie's' father was long gone, killed by a stroke nobody saw coming. Pat had brought her son up on her own for most of his life, and even though she'd had many interested suitors, she'd devoted herself to raising her son.
Now here she was, sitting on his thigh and getting long-forgotten stirrings. Of course she'd pleasured herself, but it had been years since a man had aroused her. She thought to herself; "Maybe he won't even notice. We've always been close, I've sat on his lap heaps of times. I can keep little movements to enjoy the feeling and maybe I'll get myself off when I get home tonight."
But what started out as pleasant feelings built into charged eroticism and she began rubbing herself on him with more vigour, at first hoping he wouldn't notice, then secretly admitting to herself that she hoped he would and do something about it.
Wondering if Charlie had realised she was rubbing herself on him, she soon got her answer. His thigh jerked twice under her, sending little pulses of pleasure through her pussy. She froze, but quickly decided she was going to push the situation further. She checked that Alison couldn't see, then gripped her thighs together twice, matching his tempo.
He did it three more times, obviously to make sure, to which she replied identically, then leaned forward pretending to straighten her dress while actually flipping her dress out of the way to sit back and try to dry-hump her son's cock.
She missed, but could feel his hardness against one buttock.
"Hell. I'm horny for my son, in a frickin public bar, and all I want is for him to fuck me here and now..."
She resolved to try, hoping nobody would see, but so very turned on that even that risk seemed worth it.
