“Still one more hole to fill, Mommy-slut,” Jimmy said, just as I heard a door slam downstairs.
My eyes wide, I stammered, “I-I-I have to go.”
“You should let him come and watch,” Jimmy suggested, shoving his cock in his mom’s mouth, a cock that was last in her ass.
“Maybe after I finish what I started,” I agreed, grabbing my blouse, my bra still on the floor.
“Later, alligator,” he quipped.
I closed my laptop, got dressed and headed downstairs to greet my son, wondering if I smelt of sex when a sudden idea popped into my head.
He was just heading into the kitchen when I walked up and gave him a big hug and greeted him like I used to do to my husband, “Hi, honey, how was your day?”
“Surprisingly boring,” he answered when I let him go.
“Well, I am going to order pizza and I think I need to finish the story about your dad and I,” I said with a smile.
“You did leave me hanging,” he said.
“I’ll tell you all about it, but be warned it isn’t PG-13,” I teased.
“Thankfully, I’m not thirteen,” he countered, glancing down to my nylon-clad legs.
“Sooooooooo true,” I purred, my flirtatious tone not even remotely hidden, as I went to the phone and ordered pizza.
Half an hour later, the pizza arrived and as we ate on the couch side-by-side while watching Wheel of Fortune I decided to add more hints of my willingness for incest by retelling the story of his dad and me.
“So, I promised you a story,” I began.
“You have me curious,” he said, “I can’t fathom you being wild.”
I pouted, “Why, because I’m a boring wet rag?”
“No, it’s just you’re my mom,” he answered, which wasn’t really an answer.
“Well trust me, your mother is a lot more than meets the eye,” I smiled, the innuendo implied not likely obvious to Paul.
“Okay,” Paul nodded, clearly unsure where this was going.
“So I was dating Wally when I met your dad,” I began, remembering how crazy that night was. I wasn’t necessarily a slut back in high school and college, but I also wasn’t a prude. I liked sucking cock, I liked getting fucked, I liked being wanted. Yet, I didn’t sleep around when dating someone, I just didn’t date someone for a long time.
“You cheated on someone to hook up with dad?” he asked, a look of shock on his face…his sweet mother a cheater.
“Not really,” I answered, before adding, “but it wasn’t a normal situation either.”
“You have me confused,” he said.
“Let me tell the whole story and it will make sense,” I promised, as I realized I had never told anyone the complete story of how I met my husband (although it is a lot simpler than How I Met Your Mother).
“Sorry, you just have me curious,” he said, “you seldom mention Dad.”
“I don’t?” I asked, realizing I suppose that was true.
“Not really,” he nodded.
“Well, I will change that,” I said, “for starters, you and your dad are a lot alike.”
“We are?” he asked.
“Oh, God yes,” I smiled, putting my hand on his leg subtly. “You have the same eyes, same smile, same laugh, same voice and, truth be told, the same body.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Take off your glasses,” I suggested, as I pulled out my phone. Once he did, I snapped a photo and stood up and grabbed a frame with a photo of Darren a few months before he passed and brought it back to the couch. I said, showing him the two photos, “Twins.”