Brett Burgess was lying in bed with only a blanket protecting his modesty from the stares of the three women and now they were asking him to pull off the cover. He was in bed with his knees up under the blanket with his boxer shorts around his ankles. He was wearing only his college t-shirt and his socks.
Moments before he had been getting himself off alone in his room. Then the women had entered. First had come his mother. Her prim and proper image belied by the knowing smile she gave to Brett. Followed closely behind her came Dr Stevenson, Brett's childhood doctor. A tall woman in her early forties with red hair and a stern professional face. The third woman was his mother's neighbour and close friend Mrs Atwood. She was slightly younger than his mother and wore her hair neatly tied up behind her head. She had always been something of a second mother to Brett and gave him a reassuring pat on the leg through the blanket.
'Brett dear' his mother had said. 'I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I don't want you to do anything that you don't want us to do to. Do you understand sweetie?'
Brett nodded. Dr Stevenson was sitting on his left and she held his knee. Mrs Atwood sat on his right and held his thigh through the blanket. His mother stood at the bottom of the bed between his legs. She was smiling sweetly.
'Brett, I am going to pull the blanket up is that okay?' Brett's head swarmed. His first thought was one of complete embarrassment He realised the view he would give them when the blanket was lifted. He would be completely exposed. They would have an unrestricted view between his legs and the way he was lying back with his knees up meant that everything would be on display. He was ashamed that he had been masturbating and the shock of three woman entering his room meant that now he was becoming flaccid.
A few weeks ago Brett Burgess and his mother had been brought closer together through a couple of intimate encounters. In the time following Brett had fantasised about her holding his genitals once more and bringing him to orgasm over her face. He obsessed about her once more holding his penis and his testicles. He imagined her well manicured fingers around him, her painted finger nails and her petite face, prim and caring with his warm cum rolling down her cheeks and onto her lips. He dreamt about her naughty smile and the mischievous way she looked at him naked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for a mother to admire her son's bare body. She was his mother but also a hot blooded woman who was aroused by her intelligent and athletic son's nude form. She looked at him with a sense of entitlement, a sense of lust, but also a sense of the illicit, that was exciting to them both because it came from their genuine friendship and the mutual understanding and trust between them. Brett found himself reliving that moment in the bathroom over and over again under the covers in his bed. Sometimes he left his door unlocked. He fantasised that his mother would walk in on him. That she would catch him in the act and come in to finish him off. In his fantasy she would be bringing in fresh laundry and be surprised to find him in bed in the daytime. She would be more surprised still when she realised what he was doing. She would then smile and sit on the bed and help him out. Now on this day she actually had walked into his room while he was busy and she had brought her two friends in with her.
Dr Stevenson was dressed smartly in a light blouse and well pressed trousers. Brett thought how strange it was to see her out of her usual white lab coat. His mother and her were close friends and organised bake sales and charity events together. Brett went to her countless times as a kid for various bumps and scrapes. She had always been professional and supportive. But he suddenly remembered that on one of the last few times he had seen her just before leaving for college it had been slightly awkward. She had given him a check up as she had countless times before. But something had made him curiously aware that he was now an adult male and she was a female doctor and that at least part of her would be curious on some level to see how he had developed into a man. He remembered on that day that she had kept rubbing his arms and to Brett it felt like she was trying to feel his biceps. She told him what a handsome young man he had become and then she had asked him to remove his trousers and told him to cough. He hadn't thought much about it since then but now she was sitting next him in his bed waiting for the blanket to be lifted off.
Mrs Atwood was a softly spoken woman who had recently been divorced. She was skinnier than his mother and had a smaller bust. Brett had sometimes seen her out running and she wore slim yoga pants. Brett had often thought that she had a shapely bottom. He could hardly believe that she was now sat right next him.
It had only been moments before that Brett had been overtaken by images of his mother. Sometimes he replayed the memory from the bathroom exactly as it had happened. Other times he would embellish. He would make her do extreme things. He would imagine that she was capable of perversity that surely no suburban housewife was capable of. He dreamt of her taking hold of him again with her mouth. Her small neat lips struggling to take him all in. He fantasised about pushing himself all the way into her mouth and down her throat. She would be on her knees in her smart and modest dress. Her hair tied back neatly behind her head and she would be looking up sweetly and mischievously into his face.
On this day he was imagining something truly quite depraved and was near the point of climax when the soft knock came on his bedroom door. He had stopped. A momentary sense of guilt had overcome him. He felt like he was betraying her. She was this kind and caring mother. She was a respected woman in the community. A churchgoer and admired by all their neighbours. She trusted him and shared her hopes and fears with him. And now in his mind unthinkable sexual acts were taking place.
'Brett honey'
He had heard her call.
There wasn't enough time for him to get out of bed, to get decent.
'Are you decent dear?' she had asked. She asked it in a sweet and natural way. But there was also something else about her voice. Something different. What was it? Brett had no way of knowing that there were two other women with his mother
'Just a second mum...' he said. But it was too late. The door was already opening. Brett had realised that this would be the first time in his life, not counting the very recent event this summer, that she had caught him masturbating. When Brett had lived at home before his mother had always been very discreet and proper. He guessed that there had probably been occasions when she might have been aware what he was getting up to, but if there was, she never gave any indication that she knew. It was always politely ignored.
Brett lay frozen in his bed as his mother's well groomed head had appeared from behind the door. She wore her hair at shoulder length. It was dark brown and well kept. She was wearing a modest blouse with a high neckline and a small pendant was tied around her neck. She wore stern librarian that sat at the edge of her small nose.
'Having a little rest dear?' she had said eventually.
Brett nodded.
'Brett,' his mother had said, 'I don't know if you remember, but a few of the girls have come over this afternoon for the Tupperware party.' Brett's mind raced. He suddenly recalled that she had told him about this earlier in the week. He had forgot. He had been so engrossed in his fantasising that he hadn't even heard the women arrive at the house.
'Would you have some time to help us out a bit?'
She smiled sweetly. At this stage Brett had no idea that Dr Stevenson and Mrs Atwood were also standing outside his room.
'I know you are very busy with your thesis and what with all that running, dear, so I understand if you don't have the time to help us out'
