The tension at the dinner table was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Three weeks ago, Mom found out that Dad cheated on her. There had been a terrible fight, and Mom kicked him out of the house. He had come crawling, begging for her to take him back. Mom gave in, eventually, but she hadn't forgiven him yet. The atmosphere during our first dinner together as a family again was icy at best.
They had met--and fallen in love--in high school. Mom got pregnant with me right after graduation, and they married right away, pressured by Christian parents on both sides. Now, twenty years later, Mom was the CFO of an international business, and Dad was, well, basically the stay at home dad. Since I've been spending most of my days at college, there wasn't much for him to do, of course. That's what got him in trouble in the first place.
"Jake, I'm really sorry for what I did, if there's any--" Dad started.
"Oh shut it, Desmond," snapped Mom. "You already know what you're going to do to make it up to him."
"Isa, please, there has to be something else I--"
"No," interrupted Mom again, irritated. "My mind is set. You agreed to it. In writing." Dad looked absolutely dejected.
I cleared my throat, and asked, "Uh, what are you guys talking about? What's Dad gonna do?"
"Oh, he's not gonna do anything. Isn't that right, my dear?" She sounded as if she were talking to a child.
Dad glowered, and replied tersely, "Yes." He hated it when Mom used that voice, especially on him.
"So what's going on?" I asked, feeling left out.
Mom stood up, and stretched. She hadn't changed since coming home from the office, and still wore her power suit, consisting of a light gray knee length skirt, and white button up blouse with ruffles.
"Mmm, I needed that," she sighed. "Another long day at the office." She walked over, and stood next to me. "Listen, Baby, I have to ask you something."
Without giving me a chance to speak, she swept my plate off the table. It shattered on the floor, cutlery clinking loudly.
"Mom, what are you doing?"
She hoisted herself up on the table, sitting down right in front of me, legs hanging down to one side. I was thoroughly confused. "What I want to ask you, my dear, sweet Jake, is if you want to help me."
I studied her face--framed by shoulder length, smooth brown hair--while she looked down at me from her perch. I noticed her coquettish smile. "Help with what?" I inquired, hesitantly.
The entire situation felt unusual, somehow. Not that my mother had the habit of clearing the table by dumping everything on the floor, but her whole demeanor was different today. More commanding. She lifted her legs, and placed the hose covered feet on the chair, to each side of my legs. Then she spread her knees apart. My eyes were drawn to the spot between her legs, and my heart skipped a beat.
I had a clear and unobstructed view of her pussy. She definitely wasn't wearing any panties. Her smooth shaven lips were puffed up, and glistened with wetness. Between the swollen lips protruded her labia, tempting me with promises of pleasure.
"MOM!" I cried out. Blood rushed into my cock, and I nearly instantly got hard. My mother's body was fantastic, but until then I never looked at her in a sexual way. She leaned backwards, with her hands flat against the table, sticking out her breasts at me, while biting her lower lip.
"You see, your father came to me last night, and begged on his knees for forgiveness." My eyes kept being drawn back to her pussy, and she made no attempts at modesty. "He said I could do anything I wanted to him, he even said if I wanted to I could cheat on him. A free pass, he said."
I was speechless, and my heart was pounding in my chest. She sat up and started undoing her blouse. With every button that opened, more of her breasts came into view. They were round and plump, absolutely gorgeous. "I liked the sound of that, so I thought to myself who I should sleep with." Her dark nipples were poking out, hard as diamonds. "And the answer was pretty easy. Why, it had to be the person in the world I love the most."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Or seeing, for that matter. I've never thought about my mother in that way, but seeing her like this, positively oozing with sex, practically throwing herself at me, tugged at something deep inside my soul. I could smell her perfume, mixed with something more exotic, more musky.
At that moment, Dad coughed, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I had completely forgotten he had been there. Mom turned around. "What do you say, Desmond? Do you think I should have sex with our sweet boy, if that's what it costs for me to take you back?"
Dad looked down, and I couldn't tell what was going through his mind. "Yes," he muttered, finally, and Mom chuckled. She reached out, and swept everything off the table she could reach. Plates and glasses shattered as they hit the floor, and the large serving bowl made a loud crash.