[©2011 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 WITH IDENTITIES DISGUISED; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]
[Son joins two married couples in hot tub. He ends up 'playing' with the two wives, one of whom was his mom.]
All of this could have been avoided if a couple of guys had been just a tiny bit nicer to me. You'll see what I mean...
I had been told that I had to grow up when I turned eighteen, which included becoming responsible—and moving out. I had mixed feelings about that. My father was a dour, old cuss. He believed that sex was only for procreation.
Well, this served to make my mother the most beautiful neglected woman in the world. Worse, his policy extended to me. Even though I had a tiny apartment-like bedroom offset from the house by our garage, with a separate door, he monitored my social life and actually barged in if it looked like I might be scoring (heavens forbid!) Of course, that really endeared him to me (sic.)
My wonderful mom was caught in the middle of this. She was thirty-nine (to his forty-nine) and as lovely as any woman at that age. She had blonde hair (Clairol no.5), blue eyes, a big smile, and a spectacular figure.
I found one of her bras in the laundry once; the label said '34D'. What struck me was that the straps were worn out as if stretched out, plus there were little domes in front where her nipples might be. For some reason, she was sensitive to cold (or so she said), and her nips would tingle, pop and erect like throbbing thumbs, poking out thru almost any thickness of blouse.
Since she'd gotten 'older' she did sag a little--maybe an inch. Like all women, she would put on her bra and then give her perfect melons a little push up. And don't ask me how I know. I have no idea why that drove me wild, but it did
Her legs were even better than that. Some young guys might be turned off because there was a colorful streak here and there, but her legs were the best I'd seen since Jennifer Aniston was on the Tonight Show. And just like Jen, mom had the most exquisite, perfect, smooth feet, with little sparkling red toes.
Like I said before, mom's old geezer, Mal, didn't believe in sex before, or after, marriage, unless it was the mechanical act of procreating. My mother pledged to herself that she'd stay on with the marriage until he'd gotten an inheritance from his wealthy family. After all, she'd suffered this long; a few more years couldn't be that bad.
We all know the phenomenon of prisoners working out incessantly as it was their only release and entertainment. Well, just like that, my mom took to working out as a means of getting around this whole celibate marriage thing. As a result, she got into incredible shape. Between watching Denise Austin on cable or DVD and running 2 miles, she became as firm as Shannon Miller in her Olympic gymnastics days.
Talk about being fit from head to toe, she had a little 'friend' with batteries in the bed night table. I found it in the garbage one day. No, it didn't have an electric failure. While it was inside her doing 'its thing', she had accidentally unleashed her powerful muscles, crushing that metal vibrator.
I saw the big dent on its side and thought nothing of it. Later that night I sat bolt upright in bed, realizing just what that meant. As my body shuddered, I fell back and my manhood cut loose a mighty blast in 'honor' of my supersexy mother. The geyser almost hit the ceiling before falling to my bed, covering me from chest to toe.
Seeing my mother working out almost 24/7 rubbed off on me too. I bought a cheap set of weights at K-Mart and started clanging them at all hours. I never achieved the perfection that my mom did, but I also was pretty buff, with chiseled abs and bulging biceps.
Before the incident I'm going to describe, my mother and I had never had the slightest illicit relationship or physical contact. The only thing that might raise an eyebrow was when she had me adjust the radio for her when she was taking one of her marathon baths. She'd sink into a warm tub of bubbles and lie back with a towel over her head. I guess she didn't realize that those bubbles eventually popped, leaving her in crystal clear water...
Well, that was it, just the bath incident.
Okay, there was one time when she asked my opinion about her clothes. She had a new blouse and wanted to match a skirt to it. Mom had me sit in her room. She tried on skirt after skirt in the closet, coming out to model it for my opinion. The thing was, when I said they didn't work (and I was lying: they all looked fantastic), she got frustrated and wiggled out of the skirt instantly, padding away on bare, smooth feet just wearing thong bikini underwear and that flimsy new blouse. Best of all, she even forgot that her panties had an inviting opening right in the front of them. When I figured she was tiring of the show, I gave my approval. It really was because I was getting a little too enthusiastic about the floor show and either had to break it off or grab the model. I couldn't do that to my own mom...
My mother thanked me for my time and bent over to kiss me on the cheek. As she did, the blouse middle button popped, hitting me on the nose. At the same moment, her front-opening 34D bra, overstuffed by my mom's Playmate-of-the-year boobs, also lost its central button, which hit me as it tumbled out and then down to the floor.
I'll never forget my eighteenth birthday. Mom had gotten me a cake and my favorite take-out from Chick Fil-A (what, you were expecting coq au vin with a fine Bordeaux?) Not surprisingly, the 'old man' had not arrived as planned (he never did for my other birthdays, either). Well, this time I was just biting into my first waffle fry when he DID arrive.
He showed his gift to me: a (very old) used van. He encouraged me to go look it over. As I walked out, I heard the unmistakable slam of the door. He had given me the 'bum's rush'. My childhood was now over; in the van were all my things, which he'd been moving out in lieu of coming to my little party.
At first, I had to live in the van. In desperation, I went back home for the 1st time. Fortunately, only my mother was there. She gave me everything she could, including $5,000 from her bank account. Mom also told me about this great location downtown that could become a little sandwich shop, something I'd always wanted.
The landlord of that little place helped with the 'build out' and soon I was up and running. Things went really well and soon I could pay mom back and start saving a little. My mother was delighted and became a frequent customer during the day when 'he' was at work. All of this got back to the 'old man' who never permitted the slightest maternal affection for me.
It was bad enough that I was doing well; gossip had it that I was dating a local beauty about my age (now nineteen) and having 'relations' before marriage. The final straw was when my mother told him at dinner about how successful I was. That was it: he was going to put an end to this whole affront to his way of life.
With his connections, it didn't take long. He put in a call to a sandwich restaurant corporation (yes, that one) and arranged a sweetheart deal for them to move in across the street from me. (Mind you, he never did anything for me when I told him what I had planned.) With their efficient organization, that yellow-themed sandwich shop was up and running in a month. Against their national advertising and endless specials, I was ruined in three months.
It now was mid-July. I was facing hard times again, what with my failed restaurant and the related bills. I had to go to my old house to get some things, things I couldn't afford to buy on my own. It was about 9 p.m.
I heard a splashing outside by the hot tub. Squinting in the dark, I could just make out four figures. Curious, I approached. Sitting there in the roiling waters were my parents and my father's business partner and spouse.
Father: "Well, if it isn't the conquering hero, returning from his restaurant empire. How's that going for you? Do you still have any customers besides your 'old bag' mom? What about that premarital love life? Are you two still living in sin?"
Me: "You should know. Sally left me when our bills came back due and unpaid. Oh, and that restaurant that moved in across the street? I got some of their mail by mistake; strangely enough, it was a bill from you, detailing the help you'd given them for finding the location. In return, they were supposed to run all national specials here for a year, if necessary, to specifically drive me out of business."
There was an ashen silence. Everyone was looking anywhere but at me. I turned to walk away. Then, it hit me.
Me: [in a soft voice, almost sheepishly :} "Do you think I could just jump in there with you for a second. I promise I won't take up any space."
All of a sudden, the two older dudes, smarmy and confident with me--a broken young man--standing there, turned white. What was going to happen when I jumped in? They weren't about to invite me in. Fortunately, the two wives were sitting side-by-side. They huddled and after a few giggles invited me in with enthusiastic welcoming waves.
Me: "One problem; my only suit is at home, and I mean my new home. I can wear something, I guess, but these are the only good clothes I still have..."
With their husbands shaking their heads 'no', the ladies huddled again and waved me in.
Mom: "Sweetheart, you can come in. It's dark and if your little doodle is like daddy's, we won't be able to see it without a microscope."
Mom and her friend giggled again. I finally noticed several empty glasses around the women.
Within a few seconds, I was in my birthday suit, one of my hands concealing my unit. I gingerly stepped from the dark into the hot tub, the searing waters a shock as always.
I was sitting offset from them. The two hubbies were on one side, the two wives across from them. I was at the end, on an elevated seat, the warm waters just covering my legs.
It was kind of awkward. The men were now dead silent, just waiting for this night to end. After all, they'd screwed me out of my business and, indirectly, out of my fiancée. Now I loomed above them, a young man in fabulous shape with an obvious grudge. It didn't help their cause when the wind picked up and both of their toupees flew off. They literally sank as deep into their seats as possible.
Meanwhile, their wives were in drunken hysterics over the 'flying rugs'.
Mom: "Now Jim, you're not wearing store-bought hair too, are you?"
