Alex stood in the narrow hotel corridor staring at the closed and bolted door to Elena's suite. What the hell had just happened?
God damn Justin Kuchen, anyway. Every third sentence out of his mouth was a complaint making his mother out to be a harridan who supposedly ran him ragged as an unpaid gofer, and then when she turned him loose on some unknown mission in a Caribbean city he finished and rushed back to her imperial embrace early?
It didn't make sense. God damn Justin Kuchen to Hell.
Alex trudged to the elevator. His immediate problem was a hard-on that wouldn't go soft, and the likelihood of terminal blue balls if he didn't jack off real soon. And sharing a room with his mother was going to make that nearly impossible.
The hotel was filling up with stranded travelers. Alex was a sadly comic figure making his way down the crowded halls, bent half-over and staggering along like Frankenstein's assistant in an old movie.
When he got back to their room his mother was standing in front of the full-length mirror with her back to the door. She was barefoot, wearing a short, pink satin robe that barely covered her butt cheeks. She held the front of the garment open, turning this way and that, studying herself in the mirror with a quizzical frown. She hastily closed and belted the garment before Alex could get more than half a second's glimpse of her lush, naked curves.
She turned to him. "That took a while. I didn't realize that Elena had relocated to some other hotel." Her look of consternation turned to one of concern when she saw Alex's pained expression. "Are you all right, sweetie?"
"I-I'm fine," Alex stammered. "Sorry I took so long. I, that is, Elena and me, we got to talking, and...you know, I've never really gotten to know her, and..."
"Oh, I understand." Kristen smiled and padded over to take the makeup case from him. "Elena can come off pretty aloof, but once she opens her mouth she just doesn't stop. Does she? Talking, I mean."
Alex blinked. Was his mother teasing him? But there was no way she could have known what he and Elena were doing all this time--and if, somehow, she did, she wouldn't find it funny. She'd be furious, for sure.
"Oh, yeah. Talking. A lot," he agreed. "Mostly her...talking. Like you said, her lips never stop moving. But she's real interesting. She, uh, she knows a lot of stuff."
Alex rattled on nervously, mostly to keep his mother from asking more questions but also to distract himself. She was standing just inches from him, and the familiar scents of her favorite soap and perfume had their usual, predictable effect on him. He had to get his mind on something else, anything else, to try to get his hard-on to go away.
But he couldn't. Kristen had tied her robe so loosely that he could see most of her beautiful huge tits, rolling freely under the silk with her every movement. If a guy wasn't careful, he could fall in and get lost in all that cleavage. That adventure definitely appealed to him. The outline of her nipples was apparent, pressing against the thin cloth. They looked--damn, were they hard? Could his mother be turned on, right now? By what?
He didn't dare guess at the answer. The thing that he secretly hoped could not be true. To ever assume otherwise was to court the worst humiliation.
The high hem of the robe flared out over her girlish hips and the very tops of her thighs. Her son willed himself not to think about how easy it would be to just pluck the ends of her belt, undo the big loose bow holding the garment closed, and have it off of her in a moment. Was she really naked, under that soft, shiny wrapper? Damn, the very act of trying to banish those thoughts only made them more vivid in his imagination. His cock surged up higher and harder under his jeans.
Kristen stole a furtive glance at Alex's crotch and her heart leaped. She didn't know how much longer she could keep pretending to be oblivious to the big rampant slab of man-meat straining against the front of his pants. She had seen that big pussy-pleaser in the hands and mouth of her best friend, but only on a TV screen. She had to see it in the flesh or she would lose her mind.
Her phone call to Elena had been emotional but short, as she had to hurry to freshen before Alex got back to their room. And truthfully she couldn't be too angry with her friend. If their positions had been reversed, Kristen knew that no agreement, no vow of friendship could have kept her from sucking her son until he'd shot a fountain of jism into her hungry belly. The reason that Kristen and Elena could become so close so quickly was that they were honest with each other about their needs and about who they were: a pair of beautiful, highly-paid cock-sluts. Women who would strip and spread in instant for pleasure or to further their careers, and for whom the most meaningful reward was a big cum-spewing cock.
Kristen meant to claim her greatest prize now.
"Are you sure you're all right, though?" she smoothed Alex's sweat-streaked hair back from his forehead. "You feel like you've got a fever. And you're flushed. Here, sit down." She took his hand and led him to the bed.
"I'm good, Mom. Honest." Alex said, secretly relieved to be able to sit down with his hands folded over his lap.
"If you're sure. Look, if you're really up to it, I could use your help with something important."
"Sure. Anything."
"Good, because I need a man's opinion about something. Do you remember I told you how much this assignment means to me? So, I'm really nervous. Up to now, I've done mostly catalog shoots and fitness layouts for women's health magazines and stuff like that. And the outfits are form-fitting and show off my-my body. Some of the lingerie I model in is pretty skimpy."
"I know!" Alex said, then hoped he hadn't betrayed the depth of his enthusiasm for those photos.
"Yes, well...but those layouts are still usually on the demure side. A little tease, some mystery. The lingerie manufacturers assume a large group of their customers are women. But this shoot is different. A full swimsuit feature for a major sports magazine. And honest to God, I'm nervous. Some of the suits I'm supposed to wear this week are like being--well, I feel almost
naked
, if you follow me." She looked guilelessly into his eyes, as if for reassurance that he understood.
"I know just what you mean, Mom," Alex said slowly. "And we both know that the publishers don't sell out these 'special issues' to women shopping for bikinis. It's all about--"
"Sex. Of course. What men want to see." Kristen walked away from her son, hips swaying and ass rolling, her slender thighs and calves flexing as if she were wearing four-inch stripper's heels rather than walking in her bare feet.
At the center of the room, she spun on her toes. She yanked her robe open without warning and shrugged out of it. The scrap of satin wafted gently to the floor behind her.
Alex made a strangled gasp. He thought his heart had stopped for a moment, as he beheld the vision of his mother standing before him wearing nothing but the tiniest bikini he'd ever seen.
To call it a "suit" would be a gross exaggeration. The top was nothing but two strips of magenta knit, each no bigger than a Band-Aid, strung together by elastic cords a few millimeters wide. The little swatches did little to conceal Kristen's pink, domed nipples. But it had all been engineered with the precision of a suspension bridge to lift and hold the mammoth orbs of her breasts at the perfect angle for horny eyes to feast upon.
Alex stared in wonder at those amazing love balloons, imagining how they would feel in his hands as he played with them. He would suck his mother's big nipples until they were engorged and hard as marbles, kneading and massaging those fat melons for as long as he pleased, then mold them around his rigid dick while he crouched astride her chest for a long titty-fuck.
But that wasn't the best part.
Kristen's microkini top might as well have been an oversized sweatshirt by comparison to the bottom. Down below, an even smaller and narrower strip of the same bright-hued fabric was held in place over her crotch by thin elastic bands. She had to be completely shaven bare, as not even a landing strip of golden fluff could have been concealed by that flimsy little swatch. The velvet soft roundness of her love mound was completely visible.
In fact, except for the golden mane on her head, Kristen was waxed entirely hairless. Her body was a sleek landscape of tanned and silken flesh. She'd had a fresh mani-pedi before leaving on their trip, and this morning had painted her long almond-shaped fingernails and glossy toenails to match her swimsuit.
Unconscious of what he was doing, Alex stopped trying to hide the bulge in his jeans. He lightly rubbed his cock through the rough denim.
Kristen took that in with a quick glance, along with his wide-eyed stare, his flushed, perspiring face, and the throbbing of the vein at his throat. She was rounding third base and almost home.
"You-you think I'm too old for this look?" she asked hesitantly.
Alex sat spellbound, unable to speak. The inside of his mouth felt like the Sahara. His mother frowned. "I
am
going to have to call the doctor," she sighed. "I declare, commercial flights are nothing but damn Petri dishes of all kinds of infectious--"
"N-no!" Alex managed to croak out. "Nononono! I'm fine, really! It's just..."
