Illustrated version available on request to Author
Some of the following I found out later on, but it seems to fit in here and so I've juggled things a little make things easier to follow. My Mother, AKA, Rachel Lamella, had been horny since the separation from my Father, Jeffery Crowder several months before.
Mom had planned on getting laid by one Harvey Matthews, a man she'd met online. But as with many of the best laid plans it went awry. Very much awry, in that she unexpectedly returned home from a disastrous date in which she had been all over Harvey only to learn that he was gay and wanted to use her as his beard for business dinners and the like.
And so, she came home in a cab, half inebriated, still horny, and reeking of humiliation and pissed off at life in general. My guess is that she was horrified by the sight of her son (me) in bed with a girl whose face was covered with his semen.
"Howie, what the fuck is going on?" she screamed as her alcohol clouded brain attempted to digest the scene before her.
Reggie realized my mother had caught us and screamed; covering her breasts while leaving her semen splattered face open for ... well anything.
I was so stunned by my mother's sudden appearance that I completely forgot to cover my private's and jumped up from the bed to meet my fate, boner pointing toward the ceiling.
"Cover that ..." She was incapable of finishing the sentence and just managed to point at it.
I used my hands at first, and then the very sensible Reggie, prodded me into further action by telling me to 'put my pants on.'
Which I did; turning away from my mother and retrieving them from under the bed, where I'd dropped them earlier.
"You, young lady; what's your name?"
"Regina ... Mrs. Crowder!"
"Ugh ... never mind ... clean that--that--goo from your face first! And it's Ms. Lamella, if you don't mind!"
Regina didn't know at first what my mother meant, and then on realizing what my mother was referring too, ran into the bathroom and not bothering to close the door, grabbed a face towel from the towel rack and wiped the semen from her face and breasts, then returned to the bedroom, still nude.
I risked a downward glance--I still had an erection. I covered it with my hands while stammering something inane, like "What are you doing home?"
My mother screamed, "Never mind what I'm doing home. What the hell is going on in my house? Is this ... what you do when I'm gone?"
Mom's lipstick was smeared, her eye shadow, or whatever that gunk is they put under their eyes, had run from the tears she'd shed in the cab on the way home and her dress was torn when she closed the cab door on it getting out to fast.
At the same time she was thinking: Why isn't that me with all that stuff covering my face? Even my teenage son is getting more than me!
Had I not been terrified at that particular moment I might have tried a quip like, 'Gee, no, Mom, it's a first. It's not that easy to get laid, you know?
My mother's rant continued: "And you, young lady ... cover yourself! No, better clean that--that stuff off your face then get dressed!"
Reggie scrambled from the bed and ran into the bathroom following my mother's explicit instructions without bothering to close the bathroom door. Mom gave me the sternest glower I'd ever received from her and told me to "Have some decency and put some pants on!"
I did, and it gave me a last look at Reggie's tits as she fumbled with her bra. I had already given up hope of ever seeing them again. I was wrong, but it was a stressful time--please forgive me--she did.
My mother plopped down on my bed then thought better of it as she drew her hand over the sheets, grimaced and stood back up on shaky feet.
I motioned to the chair across from the bed. She nodded and went and sat down. I realized she was huffing and waited for her questions rather than trying to worm my way out of the situation by coming up with some cock and bull story.
She took a deep breath and began the inquisition.
"Who is she?"
"How old is she?"
"Is this the first time you two were together like this?
"Is she a classmate?"
"Where do her parent's think she is tonight?"
The last one drew her in like a shark to blood infested waters.
"She's at a sleep-over? You--you meant for her to stay the night--in MY HOUSE!"
"Well you haven't come home at normal times lately and ..."
The fact was I hadn't thought things through. My mother was proficient though, even with all that booze running though her veins. "She told her mother she was at this girl's house for a sleep-over?'
"Yes!" I replied as Regina came out of the bathroom fully dressed.
My mother turned to her. "Regina, is that right?"
Regina stared at her not knowing how to respond.
"You told your mother you were at a sleep-over, right?"
"Yes, oh, yes, I told her, yes."
"Okay, what I'm thinking of is a way to keep your little tryst here a secret, understand?"
"Um, yes, Mrs. Crowder."
"No, my name ... I prefer you call me Ms. Lamella if you don't mind."
"Oh, I don't mind. Ms. Lamella," Reggie replied.
My mother gave her a discerning stare and decided she didn't mean the sarcasm my mother thought she'd heard, and moved on. "So your parents have no idea what you two have been up too?"
"No they don't! Please don't tell them!"
My mother had the instincts of a world class prosecutor. She went in for the kill and I was helpless and unable to assist Reggie in any way at all.
"You're supposed to be some place at a sleep over. Where would that be?"
Reggie glanced at me. No help there--she went with the truth.
