Page 06
I was putting the vacuum away in the hall closet when Mom tried to get by. I leaned against the wall to let her pass but, looking at her figure, couldn't help myself. The words were out before I could stop them.
"Hey Mom, do you think Nita will come by again sometime soon?"
Mom stopped dead in her tracks. She was so still I thought maybe something was wrong and was about to ask her if she was okay when she answered, very quietly.
"I don't know."
"Oh," was my only reply. I tried to think of something else to say, something that would prompt the kind of response I was seeking, but my mind was blank. Mom started to go and I felt the opportunity to continue our new relationship slipping away. Still, I couldn't speak.
Mom paused and, half turning toward me but keeping her face pointed away, asked in a trembling voice, "Would you like me to ask her?"
"Yes, I would," I answered in a voice just as shaky.
"Alright."
Mom continued on to her room. My eyes might have been playing tricks on me but she swayed as if she was a little light-headed. I chided myself for taking such a foolish chance. Why hadn't I broached the topic in a more subtle manner? I could have blown everything. Still, I was exhilarated by Mom's response, especially because I had a feeling it wasn't what she had meant to do.
The next day, I waited for Mom to inform me of Nita's next visit but she was silent. Finally, I asked her outright just before dinner.
"So, when's Nita coming?"
Mom looked away and busied herself with the stove though she'd only just checked everything.
"I don't know," was the quiet response.
"You did ask her?"
"Not yet."
"Oh. Are you going to?"
"I'm not sure."
I wanted to ask why but my instincts suggested that wouldn't be wise. I changed the subject.
"What's with all the cake and stuff?"
"It's my turn for Bridge night."
"Oh right."
Mom played bridge every Tuesday night so her turn as host came up every three months.
"And, of course, your father is going out after supper," she added. "You'd think with all I do for his poker nights he could help like the other husbands do, but oh no, he always finds an excuse not to be here."
"Mom, you know you ladies have more fun without him around."
Mom laughed. "Well, I guess that's true. The other husbands usually beat a hasty retreat after the girls have had a few glasses of wine but at least they're there to pour the first few."
"I'll bet they do," I said.
"If they didn't their ears would get red."
"No doubt."
Strangely, Mom suddenly blushed. I couldn't think of anything else to say so I left the kitchen. After dinner, I went up to my room to stay out of the way. The women began to arrive shortly after Dad left. I thought nothing of it until I heard Mrs. Hancock's voice, a rare event. She was younger than most of them, in her early to mid thirties, but more conservative than most. Her husband was a real go-getter, a man on the move so to speak, who had recently won a big promotion but she was shy.
Mrs. Hancock's kid had just started school so, with her husband working long hours and traveling, she was on her own quite a lot and seemed bored. I had picked this up along with a few more juicy tidbits from overhearing gossip when Mom's friends dropped by.
The thing was, Mrs. Hancock was good looking. She had long blonde hair that would have looked better on a tanned face rather than her pale one. Mrs. Hancock was a little mousy looking but she was still pretty and had a nice, slender body that was kind of a sleeper unless you really looked at it. I bet her tits were bigger that they looked under the concealing clothes she wore.
A month ago that thought would never have crossed my mind. Now, though, it struck me that Mrs. Hancock, and a few of Mom's other friends, were just as bored with their lives and weren't bad looking either, just older.
I laughed and said out loud, "What they need is a really good fuck."
I covered my mouth and looked at the door to make sure it was shut, then pictured Mrs. Hancock and a couple of Mom's other friends that were the most fuckable. I had to stretch my leg out to relieve my sudden discomfort. I wondered how they would have reacted to Ramone's preening. Would they have checked him out like Mom did?
I laughed again, then got a pair of socks out of my drawer, nice thick ones. I stuffed them down the front of my pants and checked myself out in the mirror. Too much. I pulled the socks out, peeled them apart, tossed one away and folded the other in half. I pushed it down my pants and stood, hips thrust forward, and swayed back and forth. Now that was eye-catching.
What a laugh. I bet if Ramone was here those women wouldn't want their old men around serving wine and snacks. I spoke out loud, "I should give them a 'Ramone' show."
I preened in front of the mirror, then stepped away and keeled over on the bed, laughing my guts out until I had to stop to catch my breath. I wondered, if Mom saw me like this would she think of Ramone and what happened in The Room? Would it prompt her to 'call' Nita? I rejected the idea as too dangerous. It could backfire. I needed a more subtle suggestion.
Suddenly, I was hungry and thought of the cake and cookies downstairs. I was halfway down the stairs when three or four of the women from the dozen arranged around the dining room table and two card tables in the living room looked up. Mrs. Hancock and two other women glanced back for a second look just before I reached the bottom and swung into the kitchen. It was only then that I realized that I had forgotten to take the sock out of my pants. They weren't looking at my face!
In the kitchen, I made a beeline straight for the sink. I was bending over to open the cupboard below it where the garbage was and had one hand slipping inside my pants to get the sock out when Mrs. Adam's voice rang out.
"Hello Ryan. What are you up do?"
Mrs. Adams was one of the other ladies that had looked back with Mrs. Hancock She was Mom's age but hadn't worn the years as well. I straightened up but kept my back to her. I grabbed an unopened bottle of coke from the counter, unscrewed the cap and threw it in the garbage.
"Just getting a coke and stealing some cake, Mrs. Adams."
I got a small plate out of the cupboard and helped myself to a couple of cookies and a piece of cake. I picked up the plate and the bottle of coke and started to leave.
"You're not leaving yet are you?"
"Uh, I just came down for a snack, Mrs. Adams."
"Yes, well we'd all like to have a snack," she said, looking down at the plate I was holding and then lower. Her eyes were still down there when she added, "I think you could give us all a snack."
Her tone was very suggestive and, despite her age and slight chubbiness, there was an underlying core of unabashed sexuality that wasn't a put-on for kidding around. It triggered a response and unnerved me at the same time.
"I have to get my homework done."
Becoming even more playfully suggestive, Mrs. Adams said, "But we're so hungry, Ryan."
Her gaze returned to the front of my pants.
"Put that down and bring us all a treat."
I hesitated.
"Come on, now. Put it down and help your mother out."
I turned and put the bottle and the plate on the counter.
"Put the rest of the cake on the cookie platter and bring it in."
I did as I was told but felt quite uncomfortable with Mrs. Adams standing next to me eyeing up the front of my pants. Why did Ramone get off on this?
Mrs. Adams led the way into the dining room. "Look what I found in the kitchen," she announced.
Amongst titters and giggles, I reloaded the side plates with cake or cookies or both for the four women there.
"Harriet, it's your bid," one of the women in the living room called.
"Hold your horses. I'll be right there. Come along, Ryan. Let's give the rest of the girls a treat."
She laughed and led me into the living room to serve the other women who were sitting around two card tables. Mrs. Hancock, while trying not to be obvious, immediately locked her eyes onto the front of my pants. So did Mrs. Carter, the eldest, and one by one all of the other women noticed too. Eyes went wide and most looked away but only one frowned. Mrs. Hancock and Mrs. Carter were made of stronger stuff and, either unaware that they were gawking or not caring that they were, thoroughly enjoyed the show. I found Mrs. Carter's reaction surprising. A flower child from the seventies, she had become quite prim despite her affection for the Granny dresses of her youth. I returned to the kitchen amid quiet whispers and laughter.
Mom appeared behind me.
"Ryan, what was that all about."
"I thought you might like some help since Dad's not here."
Good recovery, I thought.
"Uh huh, and what's up with that?"
Mom pointed in the general direction of her complaint, looking a little pissed.
"What?" I asked, innocently.
"That." Mom's shook her extended arm but without greater accuracy.
"Oh that. It's just a joke, Mom. You know, like Ramone." I exaggerated the last syllable of Ramone's name and laughed.
Despite her anger, Mom laughed with me. I mean, even if she thought Ramone was sexy, she had to admit his posing was a funny. Speaking of Ramone, I hoped the thought of him would made her think of Nita and, looking at her face, a flicker of an unidentifiable emotion beneath the laughter gave me hope.
"Do you think that's appropriate for my bridge club?"
"I guess not. Sorry."
"Well, it was funny but maybe you should take it out now."
"Take it out?"
"You know what I mean."
I was surprised at the audacity of my jest and how quick Mom picked up on it. Before she could get angry I picked up two bottles of wine, one white and one red, and held them out.
"Okay Mom, but the ladies are thirsty."
"Well, that will help and I suppose you did give them a laugh, but after that go upstairs and take out whatever you stuffed in there."
I was a very attentive host. I served the ladies wine but then hung around downstairs because, surprisingly, Mom didn't shoo me out right away. Despite knowing the lump was a joke, several of them kept looking but the ones that looked the most were Mrs. Hancock and, well, Mom. The novelty had worn off for the other women but that simply made Mom and Mrs. Hancock's attention more rewarding and it was sufficiently flattering to embolden the front of my pants more than the sock could do alone.
While they played, I thought about Mom servicing the substance of my bulge in the darkness of The Room. Seeing Mrs. Hancock's small mouth, it was hard to imagine her taking it like Mom had. Considering which card to play next, she pursed her lips and I wondered if she could even get it in. I pictured myself trying to feed my cock into her tiny mouth, using my thumb and index finger to pry it open and still being unable to get more than the head inside, the shaft bending with each unsuccessful attempt.
That picture made me really stiff and the little skit that played in my head after that made me even harder: Mom showing Mrs. Hancock how to do it, opening her mouth wide and taking me deep with ease, alternately looking up at me cow-eyed and then sideways at the younger woman in haughty superiority as if to say, 'That's how it's done'.
"Ryan…Ryan."
"Huh? Yes, Mom?"
Mom didn't answer but indicated with a flick of her eyes that I should go upstairs. My welcome with the only woman that really counted in the room had worn out. My reverie had made me really hard so it was with some difficulty that got up and did as Mom asked.
*****
The next morning, I woke up confident that 'Nita' would visit that night. It was Dad's poker night, so the timing of last night's gambit, using Ramone to prime Mom, seemed perfect. I thought that Mom had been intrigued by Mrs. Hancock's poorly disguised attention to my crotch and that bode well too.
The day dragged, each class more boring than the previous one. When I was finally free I walked quickly to the bus stop but only had to wait there longer, fidgeting like a crackhead in need of a fix. Once off the bus, I refused to run home like a little kid but walked at a very brisk pace. I burst through the door and headed straight into the kitchen. Mom wasn't there. I exited the kitchen and was about to call out, half turned to go upstairs, when I saw Mom sitting in the living room reading a magazine. My heart caught in my throat. She was wearing the brown dress!
I stopped with one foot hanging mid-air about to land on the first step. Slowly, I twisted toward the living room and planted both feet on the floor. Mom looked gorgeous sitting there, aware of my presence but ignoring me. The skirt of the brown dress was pulled back a little more than expected from the knee of her left leg which was crossed over the right. I didn't say anything but simply stood and waited for her to notice me.
Her hair was thick and luxurious. How had I ever mistaken Nita for Mom, even in the dark, with her longer, straight hair? Mom flipped a couple of pages, then changed her position, crossing right leg over left. With her foot now pointing away from me, the side of Mom's leg was more exposed, with a line delineating the firm upper thigh from the softer part hanging bulbously underneath. The hem was just high enough for me to see the underside of Mom's thigh curve sharply away from her knee. I have always loved that part of a woman's leg.
Mom flipped a few more pages. I couldn't stand it any longer.
"Hi Mom."
She looked up, as if noticing me for the first time.
"Oh, hi."
She returned to the magazine and I crossed to the wall nearest her and leaned against it. Mom re-crossed her legs. This time, the left bent a little more, causing it to cross at a right angle rather than extending off the right knee, and that created a gap between her legs. The dress inched up and, from my vantage point above and to the right in front, I could see part way into the darkness of Mom's skirt.
"What's up?" Mom asked.
"Oh, nothing."
Mom flipped the page and examined the pictures on the left side of the magazine, lifting it off her knee. The dress slipped up another inch and I craned my neck while trying not to appear to be doing so. The dress had slid up enough to show the top of her stockings and the tender flesh above. I stretched more when I though I caught a glimpse of Mom's panties.
"I don't believe it!" Mom exclaimed.
I jerked my eyes away from Mom's skirt but thankfully she had pulled the magazine closer to her face, hiding me from her view and leaving me free to return my attention to her panties. Were they the dark brown ones?
I was happy to note that Mom had drawn her left knee back when she pulled the magazine close to her face, widening the gap between her thighs. There they were, the brown panties. I felt a twinge below.
"When will they ever quit?" Mom muttered.
Thinking about the evening to come while staring at Mom's panties made my lips tingle and moisture bead on my lips. Mom rattled the magazine but kept it close to her face. The movement made her panties throb and my lower jaw trembled.
"Can you believe that!" Mom cried, dropping the magazine and looking straight at me.
"What?" I managed to croak out.
The muscles in my neck were taut to the breaking point. Mom had caught me staring up her dress and her eyes were intense, but with an indignation derived from the magazine rather than anything I had done. In fact, she seemed unaware of my transgression, although how that was possible was beyond me.
"These politicians. They take whatever they want with no regard for anyone."
Mom looked back at the magazine, genuinely indignant. She didn't pull it close to her face again but neither did she close her legs. Despite the danger, my eyes were drawn into her skirt again. If she glanced up, I would be caught. Would she miss it a second time?
And what if she did? Despite our little game, it was obvious that it hadn't been Nita in The Room. Though I had caressed Mom's neck and pressed myself against her, there hadn't been any blatant acknowledgement of that fact. Still, there was the distinct possibility that our special relationship would not survive the light of day so I did have reason to be afraid.
I gawked at Mom's panties anyway.
"It really pisses me off. I mean, really. Listen to this."
Slowly, Mom drew the magazine closer to her face and as she did her legs widened. I stared at the dark brown panties as Mom began to speak. For the first time, I noticed that they were actually decorated with a lacy pattern that completely covered her mound. Mom's voice droned on and only occasionally became more intense. Each time that happened, her mound quivered in reaction. God, I my mouth had been on that pussy and my cock had filled her cunt. And yet, I was incredibly excited just looking at it covered by panties. Jesus, I so desperately wanted to fill it again. If only I could…
"Don't you think so?"
"What?" I hadn't realized Mom was talking to me.
"Don't you think they should go to jail for that?"
"Uh, yeah, for sure. Damn right they should," I stuttered.
"Oh darn. Is that your father already?"
I hadn't heard anything but Mom twisted around to look over her left shoulder, in the exact opposite direction she should have looked to see if Dad was coming in the driveway. She arched her back and stretched her left hand out to the window. As a result her legs stretched wide open and the dress slid to the top of her legs. A gap appeared on each side of her panties and I immediately noticed that no stray pubic hairs appeared. Had she trimmed it especially for tonight? God I loved her!
"Yup, he'll be wanting his dinner right away since it's poker with the boys tonight."
Mom spun around. Again I was caught with my eyes where they shouldn't be.
"Ryan, can you set the table while I…"
"Ryan!"
I stared at Mom, fright freezing my body.
"Why didn't you tell me my dress had…oh, that's simply awful."
Mom set the magazine down on the couch beside her and tugged her dress down but didn't seem to be in a hurry despite the trauma evident in her voice.
"What if someone had been in the room?"
"I, uh, I didn't notice…"
"How could you not notice?"
"I was, um, listening to your story, about the, um, politicians."
Mom got her legs closed and stood up.
"Well, in future, please pay more attention. If someone else had been here I would have been so embarrassed."
"Sorry Mom. I'll pay more attention next time."
"I hope so. Thank God it was just you."
We were both in the kitchen when Dad came in. Mom was getting the meal ready to serve up and I was carrying dishes out to set the dining room table. Every trip into the kitchen to get plates or cutlery, I took time to look Mom over. That conservative brown dress looked so sexy on her now. I knew how fine the body beneath it was and how accommodating or demanding it could be. I could hardly wait to spread those legs. And that mouth, I wanted to get into it too. She was such a hot woman and my father, ignoramus that he was, had sat down in front of the TV with barely a hello. No matter, in an hour he would be gone and soon after that, 'Nita' would visit The Room and I would make up for his callous disregard.
Poker night. I loved poker nights. Had Mom been teasing me, just to get me worked up for later? Without thinking, I rubbed my cock as I walked behind Mom on the way to get the glasses.
It's going to a long night, Mom. I'm not letting you out of that room for hours, I thought.
My world caved in after dinner. I had cleared the plates from the table and followed Mom back to the dining room as she carried dessert from the kitchen.
