Where I catch my son spying on our naughty neighbors

Where I catch my son spying on our naughty neighbors.. One day, goofing around on the internet, I came upon a list of things men love and women hate. First thing on the list: professional wrestling. I’ll leave it to you to judge the accuracy of the observation, but it did give rise to this story.

This was initially conceived of as a multi-chapter tale, but I liked the way it ended and decided, for the moment, to stick with it as written. Let me know what you think. End here? Add Pamela? Her friends? Milla and William? Somebody else? Something else? I tried to leave it open for additional chapters.

As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.

* * * * *

After we’d loaded her car with clean clothes and a couple of extra servings of the evening’s meal, Pam, home for Sunday dinner, and I were standing in the driveway, chatting, taking our time. Pam was in no hurry to get back to her text books and I, well Pam and I were laughing about my having to explain to my husband yet again that no, I did not want to watch Wrestlemania.

“I don’t know Mom, you could tell him all those buff guys turn you on, it might inspire him to get back in shape.”

“I fear it will take more than that. But maybe I should watch, even Todd turned him down.”

“Yeah, what’s up with my baby brother? He barely said good-bye. What’s this big school assignment he has to turn in tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, this was the first time he mentioned it.”

I glanced over my daughter’s shoulder, covered by the light brown hair that reached the middle of her back, to my son’s second floor window. The light was off, and although he could be working on his computer in the dark, there was none of the tell-tale flickering light that signaled his computer was on.

What was he doing up there? Masturbating? Not for this long. Maybe he’d fallen asleep, but if he was sleepy he’d have said so. It wasn’t like he was avoiding his sister, the two of them had always gotten along. I was lucky that way.

I kissed Pam good night, watched her drive away, entered the house. My husband was sitting in the living room watching Wrestlemania on the HD flat screen television we’d purchased for last year’s Wrestlemania.

He patted the chair next to his. “Hey honey, why don’t you join me. Big match coming up.”

As I followed his gesture I saw something rarely seen, my son’s cell phone not in the possession of my son. Thinking this the perfect excuse to escape Wrestlemania and check on Todd without appearing to be spying, I picked up the phone and said, “In a minute honey, let me bring Todd his phone first.”

My husband, whose focus had turned back to the television, said “Okay, tell him Cena’s up next.”

The upstairs hallway light was off; no light showed under Todd’s door. Was he asleep? I tapped on the door, then again, and, sans response, cracked it open, thinking I’d make sure he was breathing and leave the cell phone on his desk.

What I saw was my son, ear buds in, music playing, staring at the window of his friend William’s bedroom, who lived next door. He was also playing with himself. What the hell was going on? While William’s light was on and his blinds open, from the standing position I couldn’t see into his room, but realized I could from the hall bathroom. Time for some mommy-investigation. I closed the door.

From the bathroom the answer was clear and disturbing, my son was a peeping-tom. William and a woman were on his bed in the doggy position, their bodies twisting together. Whoever she was, she was squirming in delight and you could see why. William rode her like a bronco buster.

It had been years since I’d been fucked like that. Well, maybe I’d never been fucked quite like that. I wondered what Milla, Williams’s mother and my friend, would do if she knew her son was screwing some woman in the house. I checked for her car. It was in the driveway, she must be out with friends. I looked back to William’s window.

And while I’m not advocating for peeping-toms, I understood the allure. What was going on was intoxicating.

They were both coming. Even with their and my window closed it felt like I could hear their screams as their sweat soaked bodies shook, fell forward, slumped onto the bed. William crawled forward and slid an arm around the woman, held her to him. Good for him, he knew to cuddle after sex. On the rare occasions we still did it, my husband was far more interested in returning to the television or checking his tablet then holding his wife.

I needed to stop spying; this was wrong. I was about to back out of the room, I really was, when the woman moved; she was getting out of bed. Overcome with curiosity, I kept watching. Her body was firm and nice, but not that of a teenager. Who was she? She stood, grabbed a light robe from atop a chair, slipped it on, then turned towards the window.

And, too stunned to move, I watched Milla, incandescent smile on her face, stretch her arms, walk back to her son, who was now sitting up, kiss his lips, say something. They smiled. He kept his eyes on her butt as she left the room.

The cell phone in my hand, which I’d all but forgotten, rang.

Thinking, “Oh fuck,” I laid it on the bathroom counter, bolted out the door, ducked into my bedroom, started to close the door, then stopped, safely hidden by the dark when Todd emerged from his bedroom, ear buds out, wearing only underpants. Cocking his head, he followed the sound to the bathroom, emerged talking into his phone. When he shut his bedroom door I hurried downstairs.

I was fetching my husband a beer, trying to get hold of my thoughts, my mind on the steady burn between my legs, when Todd said, “Hey dad, did you bring my phone upstairs, I thought I left it down here.”

“You did son, your Mom brought it up to you.”

I came out of the kitchen. “Hey honey.”

“Hi Mom. Did you bring my phone upstairs?”

“Sure did, but I noticed your light was out so I tapped on your door a couple of times. When you didn’t respond I figured you were sleeping so I left it in the bathroom. Is everything okay? How did the assignment go?”

“Everything’s great. The assignment turned out to be easier than I anticipated. I’m going out to hang with some friends.”

* * * * *

I needed to be fucked.

“Honey, I’ll watch Wrestlemania with you, but sit on the couch with me.”

“But this is my favorite chair.”

“I know, but I’d like to cuddle.”

With an exasperated, “Okay,” he joined me. I leaned into him, touched his leg, rubbed his neck, got an occasional, “Honey, I’m trying to concentrate,” or, “I could use another beer.”

After the Undertaker was carried out of the ring in triumph we went upstairs to our bedroom, where he pulled the clothes off his uninspiring body and said, “Honey, I know you’re in the mood, but I’m pooped,” got into bed, fell asleep, snored.

Downstairs, vibrator in my pocket, I picked up the den, said good night to Todd when he came home, sat on the couch, and, replaying William and Milla in my head, brought myself off.

* * * * *

“Hey neighbors.”

I’d been watching Milla and William from the kitchen window, now I stepped onto the front porch.

William said, “Hey Ms. Porter, sorry, gotta run,” kissed his mother’s cheek, got into his car, backed out of the driveway.

Milla, happy smile on her face (who wouldn’t be happy after the way she’d been fucked), said, “Care to join me for a cup of coffee Natalie?”

* * * * *

Sitting in Milla’s back yard I looked over her shoulder. My bedroom had an unobstructed view. Had my son stood also there and spied on our neighbors?

“Same as ususal, a little bit of skim?”

I said, “Yes, please.”

At 39 Milla was two years older than me and taller, maybe five foot nine inches to my five foot three, with striking long legs. Otherwise we had similar builds: slender with slim shoulders and hips, flat stomachs, small breasts and butt cheeks. She’d also trimmed up, she was lean, nicely muscled.

After handing me my cup she sat down, her eyes a rare, and spectacular, green-blue in color, her brown hair cut short and stylish, her voice husky.

“Milla you look great, have you been working out?”

“It’s kind of you to notice. I’ve been making a point to get to the gym. I’ve lost a few pounds; I feel stronger.”

“It’s working. I’m afraid I’ve gotten a bit lackadaisical about that.”

“I’m always looking for a work-out buddy, care to join me? I’m going later today.”

I ran my schedule through my head, thought about how good she looked, how good she’d looked naked last night, wondered whether if I trimmed up my husband would be more attentive, said, “I’d love to.”

Now, as you can imagine, there was one topic I wanted to talk about, her and William, but had enough sense not to jump right in, instead waiting for the appropriate moment. It arrived when she asked about Todd. Leaving out the peeping-tom part, I recounted recent events and said all was okay, which was true. Unlike William, neither Todd nor his sister had ever given me much trouble.

Then I said, maybe a little too eagerly, “You and William were getting along swimmingly this morning. Just a few months ago you two were fighting constantly.”

Her face lit up. “Yeah, it got pretty bad. Then one day we were arguing and I was tired and frustrated and I just burst out crying, sobbing really. I was at the end of my rope, inconsolable, and he just held me, didn’t try to talk me out of it, just held me. It was exactly what I needed. It was like, in that moment he realized I was not the mannequin he’d caricatured as oppressor-mom, but a human being, one he cared about, one he loved, one whose needs were important to him. He stopped doing those stupid teenage things, casually lying, rolling his eyes when I spoke, avoiding my questions, treating household chores as if he were Sisyphus, withholding information, disregarding my needs and schedules; now he’s honest, he listens, is respectful. The mother-son conflict just melted away; he’s an adult and I treat him like an adult, but it’s also like he’s still eleven, when we were best friends. Now we are again, but as grown-ups.”

Friends with some very special benefits, I thought.

* * * * *

Over the last year my friendship with Milla had deteriorated, her endless complaining about William growing repetitive and wearying. Now our friendship was reborn; Milla was upbeat, optimistic, energetic, joyful, and vibrant. The primary source of her misery had not only morphed into a source of support, but was satiating her most fundamental need. And believe me, I knew the frustration that came when that went unsatisfied.

I joined Milla at the gym that day, started doing so regularly. We’d go out for lunch or to shop or for a cup of coffee and, while I didn’t peep into her windows at night, I checked out the two of them in their backyard or coming out the front door. They took evident joy in each other’s company, listened to each other, offered each other affectionate and respectful courtesies, and, most nights, the lights were turned off early.

I probed, mentioning the men at the gym who hit on her.

“I guess if Mr. Right came along that would be great, but the fact is I don’t believe in Mr. Right anymore; is there really a man who will complete us, do we need a man to complete us? I’m in a good place; I like my job, getting back to the gym has done wonders with how I feel, I have good friends, and with William and I having worked things out, my biggest stressor has become my biggest pleasure. Yeah, I’d like a companion who knew his way between the sheets, but let’s face it, men our age are chasing twenty-something tale, older guys are interested but can’t perform, and while most twenty-something guys have serious MILF fantasies, they can’t trust them to keep their mouths shut.”

I noted, but did not mention, that she’d left out twenty-somethings who could.

I saw her point. While frustrated with my husband, I liked my life; I wasn’t interested in blowing up my marriage and I certainly didn’t imagine Mr. Perfect swooping in to replace him. But I did need to be wanted, fucked, cuddled.

* * * * *

Todd, if not my husband, noticed Milla’s increased presence in my life. I’d get home from the gym and he’d say, “Looking good Mom. You and Ms. Jovanovic hanging again?”

“Yeah, she’s got me working out regularly. What do you think?”

“As I said Mom, looking great.”

* * * * *

I decided to make a new effort with my husband; I dressed up, pampered him, played the seductress, even watched wrestling. Still, our love-making remained scattered and intermittent; his interest and performance quick, perfunctory, and cursory, and when done he’d roll over and turn on the television.

I kept my vow not to spy on Milla and William making love, although I thought about it constantly and kept tabs. They usually slept in her bedroom; visits to his old bedroom were special occasions.

And then one Wednesday evening when my husband and I were watching a movie on television, something sweet and romantic, something I hoped would put him in the mood, Todd popped in, said he had a big assignment, double-checked to make sure he had his phone, headed upstairs. He was way too excited to be doing homework. It was not the first time I’d seen this behavior, not the first time I figured he was watching Milla and William. When my husband asked me to get him a beer I ducked outside to check the window, Todd’s was dark, William’s lit and blinds open.

When I returned with the beer Francis fumbled with the remote control. I looked at the screen, he was watching Raw. He said he was just checking on the wrestling, that he wanted to watch the movie, but there was an unhappy whine to his voice. We both knew what he wanted, we both knew he wanted me to know what he wanted, he wanted to watch wrestling.

What was the point?

I handed him the beer. “I thought Raw was on Monday night?”

“It is, this is a re-run of one I saw a few weeks back, we get it through the WWE Network. It was a good one.”

“Are you at the beginning?”


I had lots of time. “Well honey, if it’s one you really liked, why don’t you go ahead and watch. I have a few things I need to do upstairs.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

I kissed the top of his head, “No dear, I’m fine.”

The light in the upstairs hallway was off, the light in my son’s room off. I flipped my bedroom light on, closed the door, ducked into the bathroom.

Milla, naked, her lean body on full display, was crawling up what I assumed were her son’s legs — my angle cut off his head. She straddled him, took hold of his erection, sank down, her sex engulfed the shaft. When she reached bottom she rotated her hips, moving him around inside, enjoying being stuffed with eager hard dick.

They ground their bodies together, pleasing themselves, pleasing each other. She leaned forward, fed her son a breast. One of his hands was on her back, holding her to him as he worked tit-flesh with lips, tongue, and mouth. I imagined him licking the nipple, rolling it against his teeth. She moved, offered him the other breast, tightened the muscles of her ass, squeezed his cock. He slid his hand down her back, cupped her butt, moved her up and down, his thick erection, shiny with pussy juice, sliding in and out of her.

I touched my breast through my shirt and bra, thumbed the hard nipple. I wanted to be fucked the way William fucked his mother. My son should be taking notes, he could be learning how to do this right.

Milla sat back up, lifted herself off William’s cock, which flopped against his chest, pirouetted around, and moved to the foot of the bed. He followed and, on all fours, straddled him, her face over his cock, and, amazing, in light of his prodigious size, took half of him in her mouth.

I pushed my fingers under my belt and thumbed my clit.

Milla bobbed her head on her son’s dick, ground her small tight ass on William’s face. He, hands on her ass cheeks, ate her with fervid intensity.

Shit, my son was learning from the best.

As their oral assault continued I worked my clit, moved a finger inside myself, then another, found my g-spot. The action next door escalated, two co-ordinated conjoined gyrating bodies rocketing towards mind-bending orgasms. I brought myself to the edge, held myself there, wanting to come when they did. Then William’s head rocked back, he issued an unheard scream, and exploded in his mother’s mouth. Milla’s cheeks bulged, then her cunt erupted. As she issued her own scream cum dribbled down her chin. I twisted my nipple, dug my fingers inside my body, came, muffling my libidinous moan in my shoulder.

Slumped against the window, juice dripping down my leg, orgasm reverberating through my body, I knew I needed to get out of there, but my legs were shaky, my mind frazzled. Like Todd, I was guilty of spying on our neighbors, but fuck, who wouldn’t want to watch that intense carnal display.

And then my son, wearing boxers, his dick half-hard, stepped into the bathroom.

“Ohmigod Mom, I didn’t know, sorry, door, unlocked.”

Then he saw my hand in my pants, glanced at the window, realized I hadn’t been going to the bathroom, but had been doing exactly what he’d been doing, masturbating while spying on the neighbors. His dick started to harden.

Taking a second to gather my thoughts, I said, “It’s okay son, we need to talk, but first,” I pointed to his now fully erect penis, “you best take care of that.”

* * * * *

I ran a washcloth over my pubes — that felt good — cleaned my hands and face, combed my hair, touched-up my make-up, went downstairs, told my husband, throughly engrossed in Raw, that Todd and I were going to the coffee shop to review his homework.

“That’s fine dear.”

I still don’t know whether he heard me.

* * * * *

“How long have you known?”

“Three weeks ago, the night of Wrestlemania. You left your cell phone downstairs. I brought it up to you, mostly to avoid the wrestling. I knocked, you didn’t answer, your light was out. I figured you were asleep so I cracked your door open to leave it on your desk. Instead I saw you watching them, your ear buds were in.”

“I remember, I thought something odd was going on that night. That story about leaving the phone in the bathroom didn’t make sense.”

I smiled. “Odder than your friend and his mother getting it on?”

I didn’t mean for it to come out that vulgar, but I liked the sound of it. The memory of Milla and William replaying in my mind, I felt vulgar.

My son paused, then said, “You mean odder than your friend and her son getting it on? I used to think so, now I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“I first saw them about three months ago, it freaked me out, but I couldn’t stop watching, and the more I watched, the more I thought about it, the more it seemed okay. They’re not hurting anyone and all William used to do is bitch about his mother. Now they get along great, it’s like they’re best friends.”

“Friends with benefits,” I smirked.

“Something like that. You’re not going to tell anyone?”

“What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t want Ms. Jovanovic or William to get in trouble.”

Having no idea whom I would tell, I said, “No, I won’t, they’re adults, this is between them. I should tell on you for watching, there are laws about that y’know. You’ve been a bad boy.”

“Yeah, but then you’d have to tell on yourself.”

“Yeah, there’s that.”

He snaked his hand into mine and said, “Next time try watching from my room. The view is much better. What do you think of them?”

Deciding not to confirm his observation that their happy sexual relationship was just part of a happy personal relationship, or that watching them, or thinking about watching them, turned me on, I said, “It’s a shock. You don’t think about mothers and sons like that, but you’re right, they’re not harming anyone.”

“Yeah, they’re usually in her room or at least I think so, it faces the street so I can’t see. But they still do it in his room sometimes.”

“People sometimes vary where they have sex, change locations, it spices things up.”

Would that work on my husband?

“Oh. How would you feel if I keep ….” He stopped, wondering how far he could push.

I didn’t make him guess. Emboldened by the forbidden behavior I’d just witnessed, feeling explicit, I said, “…watching them fuck?”

Todd raised an eyebrow, slid his finger on mine, and in a conspiratorial tone said, “Exactly,” then, pronouncing each word deliberately and distinctly, said, “How-would-you-feel-if-I-keep-watching-them-fuck?”

I was enjoying the game. “As a responsible mother I absolutely forbid you from engaging in such inappropriate, dissolute, and, I note, illegal behavior.” Then turning his hand over and twirling my finger-tip on his palm, I said, “As a realistic mother, I have to acknowledge you’re eighteen years old, capable of making your own choices, and there is nothing I can do, short of switching bedrooms with you, reporting you to the police, or suggesting Milla close her blinds, to stop you. We both know I’m not moving into your bedroom, turning you into the police, or embarrassing my friend by letting her know her secret is out.”

I stopped. There was an unasked question on Todd’s face; it took me a second to figure it out.

“Don’t worry, I’m not telling your father. This is between us, strictly between us, got it.”

Relishing this turn of events, Todd again pushed the edge of the envelope. “I think so, but let’s make sure I understand. I’m forbidden from watching Milla and William, our neighbors, mother and son, my friend and your friend, fuck, or suck, or do anything else born in their horny imaginations, but if I’m bad you will not inform on me. Only you and I will know, it will be our dirty little secret.”

This was not the kind of conversation I should be having with my son. Sex talk, sex play, should be between husband and wife, but it had been so long since my husband had shown any interest in the subject and I was so horny and the situation so unique and I couldn’t resist; the truth is I didn’t want to resist.

“That’s the deal bub, keep this between us.”

Fiddling with my fingers, he said, “Agreed.”

* * * * *

When we got home Raw was over, my husband in bed. Todd and I walked upstairs, hugged; I felt his erection, thought with that thing man-sized thing, f he paid attention to William he’d learn how to make the ladies happy.

I crept through the dark of my bedroom to the master bath, closed the door, turned on the light, touched myself. I could wake my husband, but I knew what I’d get, disinterest. Instead, during a long shower, memories of Milla and William dancing in my head, I brought myself a very satisfactory orgasm.

* * * * *

While my husband showed no sign of recognizing it, Todd changed. Inspired, no doubt, by William, he paid attention to his grooming, dressed better, made sure his clothes accented his trim athletic build. Always ready with a compliment or kind word, Todd noticed what I wore, when I cooked something new or prepared something old in a new way, lent me a hand without being asked, listened when I spoke. And maybe it was only my imagination, but it felt like Todd was looking at me with new eyes. Our kisses and hugs grew more frequent, his hand was often on my back, or shoulder, or, when we sat together, leg.

I liked it, more than I should. I’d find myself sitting in the kitchen with him, sharing our day over a cup of coffee as the sound of the television drifted down the hall. I let him get away with the occasional disrespectful comment about his father, made a few myself; we shared a joke or two at his dad’s expense.

Through it all my friendship with Milla strengthened. When William joined us I noticed the easy comfort between them. When Todd joined the three of us, he and I sat closer together, deferred to, supported, praised each other.

And at night I’d duck outside to see if Todd’s bedroom light was off and William’s on. Sometimes they were, but I kept my promise. I was a good girl, I didn’t watch, that is until I did.

* * * * *

Pam, home for Sunday dinner and laundry, and I were washing dishes. Todd had cleared the table, then his dad had called wanting Todd to watch the Royal Rumble. Todd did not look happy, but I told him to humor his father.

Now that we were alone Pamie said, “Does Todd have a girlfriend?”

“Not that I know of, why do you ask?”

“Not sure. He looks good, he’s dressing better, he’s sweeter, more solicitous of you, and me. It’s like he suddenly grew up. My snot-nosed-little-brother is becoming a man. And, when he looks at me, it’s like he doesn’t see his pain-in-the-ass-big-sister, he sees a woman.”

She saw the quizzical look on my face.

“Not in the way frat boys or my professors do, not the leering creepy way, but with a subtle appreciation, an acknowledgment that I’m a good looking woman.”

“Pam, I’ve been noticing the same thing.”

“That’s good to hear, I was wondering if I was crazy.”

We packed her care package and ducked our heads into the living room to say good-night. Todd insisted on carrying her laundry, walked outside with us, kissed his sister good-night, then headed back inside for the “wrasslin’.” As he left Pam, her eyes on his butt, said, “And, I’ve got to admit, while Todd’s noticing my looks, I’ve done the same with him. My brother’s cute. I have some friends who might like to meet him.”

We talked awhile longer. The light in William’s bedroom turned on. Memories of Milla and William’s love-making filled my mind, the fire in my loins spread. When Pam drove off, I re-checked the window, no change. Back inside my husband was alone.

“Where’s Todd?”

“He said he had trouble sleeping last night, he was going upstairs to lie down.”

He hadn’t mentioned a sleepless night, hadn’t acted sleepy.

“How long ago?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

Todd’s light had never turned on; he was watching Milla and William.

I knew how this exchange would go, knew it would be a charade, but did it anyway. I needed to satisfy propriety and my sense of it; I needed to feel like I tried to do the right thing.

I touched my husband’s face and purred, “Sounds like a good idea, why don’t we go upstairs, hit the sack ourselves?”

“I’m not sure honey, I was about to order the pay-per-view highlight show.”

I didn’t understand. “I thought you were watching the pay-per-view?”

“I did, it’s over; these are the highlights.”

He’d just watched the show, now he was paying for the highlights? That was better than fucking his wife? He didn’t seem to think this odd. Maybe it was me. No, that’s false modesty, it wasn’t me. It was him.

I was tired of doing the right thing.

“How long is the program dear?’

“Two hours, why?”

“Just curious, these wrestling shows certainly give you your bang for the buck.”

Pleased I’d said something positive about wrestling he said, “I never thought of it that way; you’re right.”

I kissed him atop the head, said “I’m going upstairs, do some work, I’ll see you after the show.”

* * * * *

I turned the upstairs hallway light off, tapped Todd’s door with a finger tip, not wanting to startle him, and said, “It’s Mom, your Dad’s downstairs.”

I heard movement, heard the blinds close, then my son’s voice, “What do you want?”

“Are they doing it?”


“Let me in, I want to see.”

“Is the hallway light off?”


“Mom, are you sure?”


He opened the door, ushered me in, pointed to the foot of the bed, said, “That’s the best place to watch.”

“How long have they been at it?”

“Awhile. They’d started before I got here.”

I sat, he sat behind me, one of his legs running down the side of my body, the other folded between us. William — the kid had a great ass — was sprawled between his mother’s legs, eating her pussy.

I said, “We shouldn’t be watching.”

“No, we shouldn’t.”

“It’s bad.”

“It’s worse than bad, its wicked, we should be punished.”

I said, “You’re not helping, you know that?”

“Sorry, I’ll try harder next time.”

“Okay, now promise, this is our secret.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Milla’s eyes were closed, she was taking deep long breaths through her mouth; one hand rested loosely on her son’s shoulder, the other was on her breast, thumbing her nipple. Her lithe body undulated in long sexy waves.

“William loves eating her pussy, he can’t seem to get enough.”

I turned my head, looked over my shoulder. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”

“Sorry Mom, a couple of old friends, bad influences, I’ve stopped hanging with them, but I’d understand if you want to wash my mouth out with soap.”

I looked back out the window. William’s face was glued to Milla’s pussy, eating her with undisguised fervor. Milla, in turn, was rocking her ass, pushing her sex into William’s voracious mouth. Todd was right, this kid loved eating pussy and, from the look of it, he was damn good. I guess it comes with commitment, and practice.

“Good, you need to get rid of bad influences.”

William slid his hand under his head and fingered Milla’s sex.

“I’ll try.”

William covered Milla’s unoccupied breast with his free hand, squeezed the flushed flesh. She arched her back, filled his hand with tit-flesh.

What would it be like to be eaten with that kind of intensity?

Then Todd’s voice, seemingly out of nowhere, “Mom I need to shift position, my leg is falling asleep.”

I leaned forward, he straightened out his leg. I was sitting between his legs, my back resting on his chest, his hands atop my thighs.

Milla, fingers in William’s hair, holding him to her sex, was jerking her hips. William was up to the task; only a man stumbling out of a desert would drink with a rapacity that equaled his.

Hand on my shoulder, my son leaned me forward, reached between us, moved his penis so it lay flat on his chest. When I — nipples hard, pussy swollen — leaned back I felt it through my thin cotton dress. My son was big.

I pushed the thought out of my head as Milla pressed her sex to her son’s face and, mouth open in a wild orgasmic shriek, legs and arms thrashing, came. William, muscles of his powerful arms holding her in place, continued eating her, driving her through another orgasm, and another, intensifying and prolonging each one. Finally Milla sagged into the bed, arms limp, said something, I suspect that she could take no more. William, the lower half of his face glistening with her juice, moved up and lay next to her. Milla snaked her arm around his head, kissed him, then rolled onto her side, her head on William’s shoulder, and took hold of her son’s penis, held it up, ran her thumb across the large purple-ish head.

It was my best view of William’s equipment to date. The kid was hung, thick and long. Fuck, with that talented hyperactive over-sized tool down the hall, who could blame Milla for breaking the rules.

And with that observation I paid attention to the erection pressed to my back. William and Todd were in the same league.

Milla sat up, rolled her shoulders, leaned forward, let a mass of spit drool onto William’s dick, then effortlessly inhaled him in a sudden plunge.

I said, “My god.”

Todd ran his hands down my thigh. “Look at her go.”

“Does she do that a lot?”

“Do what?”


“Say it.”

I recalled our visit to the coffee shop. Todd liked it when I said dirty words.

In my present state, so did I.

“Suck his cock.”

“Maybe it’s me who needs to wash your mouth out with soap, but yeah, she can’t get enough. She likes him in her mouth as much, maybe more, than he likes eating her. There was this time…”

He stopped, baiting me to ask. I didn’t hesitate. “What?”

“There was this basketball game at school. William was driving Ms. Jovanovic home, they pulled out of the parking lot behind me. I kept checking my rear view mirror, they were playful, enjoying each other’s company. Ms. Jovanovic undid her seat belt, slid over, licked William’s ear. From the way they were moving it was clear she’d taken his thing out. When we turned into the neighborhood I looked back; she was gone. She had to be sprawled across the seat, sucking him. Once home I ran inside, found the best window, watched their car. I couldn’t see what was going on, but it was forty-five minutes before they got out pulling their clothes back on. They’d done it in the driveway.”

Boys in high school had been that hot for me, my husband, I fear, never.

Todd wrapped his arms around my waist, held me to him, and we turned our attention back to our neighbors. Todd was rocking his hips, a slight motion, not enough to see, I wasn’t sure if he was even conscious of it, but I felt his dick moving on my back.

I was about to say something when Milla took almost all her son’s impressive tool into her mouth.

I gasped, juice dripped from my pussy.

“Mom, lean forward.”

I did, he snatched a small bottle of baby oil from his desk.

“Son, you can’t, not now.”

“Why not, so long as you don’t see?

“I’m in the room!”

“How is that different then if you were across the hall? I’d be doing the same thing and, you’d know about it; you must know I masturbate, I’m a teen-ager.”

“Because…, ohmigod.”

Milla pushed her face all they way down William’s dick. There was only one place it could be, in her throat. I’d heard of this, never done it, wondered if anyone outside of porn films actually did.

William was slacked-jawed, softly rubbing his mother’s shoulder, breathing through his mouth, eyes closed, ecstacy on his face.

Then I felt it, the motion of the mattress, Todd was fisting his dick. He let out a low moan.

I said, “Son, you need to…,” then Milla rotated her head, moved William’s dick around her throat, started bobbing up and down.

It was hard to believe what I was seeing was possible. A steady stream of juice leaked from my slit; I’d begun humping my hips back and forth.

William laid a hand atop Milla’s head, his toes curled, he arched his back, he rose up on his shoulders. Milla was moving up his shaft when her cheeks bulged and William poured his cum into her mouth. She pulled off him, drops spilled from her mouth onto her breast, slithered across the nipple. She rose up on her knees, turned to face the window, straddled her son, grabbed his dick…

My god, he was still hard!

…and lowered herself, merging their bodies.

My eyes closed to tiny slits, I yanked up my dress, dug my right hand into my panties, drove a finger inside my cunt. Pleasure pulsing through my pussy, I slumped back on my son’s shoulder. He was furiously fisting his cock.

I found my clit, rubbed it, moaned, checked my voice, making sure to keep the sound confined to Todd’s bedroom. My free hand a braless breast, I squeezed.

My son’s hand was creeping up my body. Without the strength to say no, not wiling to say yes, I offered no resistance when he covered my other breast and stroked my stiff nipple.

I thumbed my clit, rocked my sex on my fingers.

Milla was panting, riding her son in the reverse cowgirl. Her eyes shot open, her body shuddered and, screaming in unabashed relief, she came.

As it happened to her, it happened to me. My orgasm was born, grew, matured, rampaged through my body, whipsawed my mind. Then my son, his tone low, guttural, and hard, said, “Oh fuck yes,” and came. As I imagined the cum spewing from his cock my sex spasmed and my asshole clenched, I came again.

I slumped back onto my son’s body. His arms encircled me. He kissed the side of my head. I opened my eyes. William and Milla were cuddled together, the picture of happy contentment. I laid my head on Todd’s shoulder. It felt good and right.

Then footsteps. “Honey, Todd, are you in there, are you okay?”

As the door rattled Todd said, “Coming Dad,” and in a single motion buckled his shorts, closed the blinds, tapped the enter button on his computer calling the screen to life, flipped on the light switch, signaled me to turn around so my back was to the window, and unlocked and opened the door.

“I’ve been calling for you two. Anything wrong? Why was the door locked?”

“Sorry Dad, I guess I accidentally set the mechanism; it must have locked when Mom shut it.”

Todd pointed to the computer, where a school assignment was blinking away, “Mom was helping me out, I guess we got lost in it and didn’t hear you.”

A look flashed across my husband’s face, our son was not known to get lost in school assignments, but it passed. “Honey, I need your help with the laundry, I’ve got to wash some things for tomorrow.”

Todd interrupted. “Dad, if it can wait a few minutes, Mom and I were just finishing the final question.”

“Sure, I’ll be downstairs watching television.”

As his father trumped down the stairs my son said, “You better change that dress, my cum is all over the back.”

* * * * *

I took off my dress. There was a lot of cum. I touched a glob, rubbed it between two fingers; it was thick and creamy. Looking at myself in the mirror I said, “Well, why not, it’s done wonders for Milla.” The taste was strong and vigorous, a bit salty. I put on jeans and a shirt, combed my hair, touched up my make-up, checked in with my son (his room stank of sex, how had my husband missed it), suggested a cup of coffee, went downstairs, did my husband’s laundry while showing him (for the ten-thousandth time) how to do laundry, then Todd appeared, clutching some papers.

“Hey Mom, I printed out that work. Would you mind going over it with me? I’ll even buy you a cup of coffee.”

My husband returned to the television; my son and I headed for the coffee shop.

* * * * *

“You okay, you mad?”

“No, I’m, we’re fine, we got carried away, that’s all. It’s understandable, they’re quite a sight. Still, we can’t let it happen again.”

“Can’t let what happen again.”

Was he playing dumb. “You and I, watching Milla and William.”

“Watching and playing with ourselves, or just watching?”

“Son, c’mon, the way we both got carried away, it’s better not to watch at all.”

“Are you going to report them?”

“No, what would we tell the police? That we’re peeping toms. Whatever they’ve got going on is working for them. I haven’t seen Milla this happy in…, well maybe ever. How’s William?”

“He’s changed, not in all ways, but in that horn-dog teenager way. He’s calmer, more mature, respectful, not a slave to raging hormones like the rest of us. I’ve noticed it, the teachers have also, they’re showing him a deference they don’t show the rest of us.”

“Well, since neither is suffering. I’m not gonna make an issue of it. I’m also going to stop watching, you should too.”

He snaked his hand into mine, gave me a big grin.

“But you’re not going to, you’re going to be a bad boy.”

“Do you object?”

“Yes, but short of boarding up your window or telling Milla to lower her blinds, you won’t stop, so what’s the point of forbidding you? But keep it to yourself, and be careful, you don’t want them to know. And for god’s sake, don’t let your father know, this is strictly between mother and son.”

He squeezed my hand. “Just us.”

* * * * *

I was good. And while I knew Todd continued watching, he never mentioned it and I, by doing nothing, acquiesced in it.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t fascinated by what was happening next door. Although they kept their sexual relationship hidden, when Milla talked of William, when I saw them together, it was clear they were more than mother and son. They listened to each other, read each other’s signals, supported each other. William knew Milla’s mood from the way she said hello; Milla appeared with coffee a moment before William said he was out.

I was talking to Pam on the phone. She was urging me to lift her brother’s Friday night curfew.

“What’s going on?”

“I invited him to hang with me on campus this week, introduced him around, showing off my new improved brother. A few girls dug him. A group of us are going to a party Friday night. I thought I’d bring Todd, see what happens.”

“Do you trust these girls Pam?”

“Do I trust them? I trust them to show my brother a good time and not do anything too psychopathy, but I wouldn’t hand them the nuclear suitcase. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“It’s just that when I was in college we didn’t go after younger guys.”

“Well Mom, the world has changed and like I said, my brother’s matured all of a sudden. C’mon, say he can.”

I thought about my next door neighbors, the world had changed. I covered the phone, shouted the perfunctory, “Francis, how do you feel about Todd busting curfew to go to a party with Pam Friday night?” and got the answer I knew I’d get, the answer I always got, indifference.

“If it’s okay with you dear it’s okay with me.”

* * * *

It was Sunday night and Pam and I were standing in the driveway. The atmosphere at dinner had been a bit raucous; Pam kept ribbing Todd about his “hot date” with a college girl. Pam and I had also had a glass or two of wine more than usual.

And although we were alone Pam dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper when she said, “Mom, has Todd been dating anyone, does he have a girlfriend?”

“Not that I noticed, not that he’s mentioned. Why do you ask?”

“Promise not to tell Dad?”


“Well, one of the girls I introduced Todd to is my friend Ramona. She thought he was cute, but what really floated her boat was that he seemed innocent. She asked me about it, I told her I didn’t think he’d ever had a regular girl friend. Well, I should have known better. Ramona thinks she’s a guy-whisperer, takes ’em inexperienced, turns ’em into gold medal lovers in two easy lessons. It’s crap, but it’s her thing. Well, she hooked up with him at the party — don’t worry, she’s religious about condoms. Later on she tells me my brother ain’t so innocent, that he knows exactly what to do in the sack.”

I glanced up. Todd’s window was dark, Williams and Milla’s lit, the blinds open. I knew where he was learning. “This sounds like something you shouldn’t be sharing with your mother.”

* * * * *

I kissed Pam good night, watched her drive off, imagined Milla and William going at it, my son watching, running his hand up and down his…. Fuck, I needed to be laid. I poured another glass of wine, found my husband, eyes glued to the television, suggested the bedroom, he begged off. I was insistent, he said after the show. I was very insistent, he understood he better and despite a lack of enthusiasm, came quickly, too quickly, then fell asleep. I thought about going to watch Milla and William, but heard my son’s door open and him walk down the stairs. The show was over. In the shower I masturbated.

* * * * *

The following Sunday my husband was watching the NFL pre-game show. Todd, having been out late with Pam and friends, was sleeping in. I had some ironing to do. Normally I’d do it with my husband as he watched football, but today I didn’t.

Last night we had the house to ourselves. I dressed seductively, made his favorite meal, made clear what I wanted (what I needed), walked him upstairs, rubbed his back, used my fingers and mouth on him, got him ready, took him inside. His effort was, what’s the right word, how about workmanlike, that might be a bit generous, but yeah, I’ll go with workmanlike. He came, I came, a little one. I could have come again, a big one, but he rolled over, checked his tablet, fell asleep.

It was our best sex in long while and it was crappy sex. The model I had in mind was Milla and Williams, fiery, relentless, intense, all-consuming.

No, today I would iron in my bedroom, look out over the neighborhood, feel sorry for myself.

I set up the board, filled the iron with water, divided the clothes by fabric. William was by the pool. He’d set up the grill. Milla appeared, dropped two steaks on the flames.

They looked good in bathing suits.

They looked happy.

I’d started my fifth shirt when they finished eating and dipped into the water. Her arm snaked around her son’s head, she brought his mouth to hers.

I finished that shirt and a pair of pants while they made out like horny high schoolers. Then William pulled Milla’s bikini top off and sucked one of her breasts into his mouth, made love to it, took his time, the way you’re supposed to, not as a way-station on a journey someplace else, but as a place worthy of a prolonged stay. He licked along its underside — her grip tightened on his shoulder — then worked her areola. He turned to her nipple, tickled it with the tip of his tongue, licked it with the flat of his tongue, rolled it between his lips. Milla clutched his head, shifted position, fed him her other breast.

My husband had never paid this kind of attention to my breasts. If my son was, as Pammie reported, a good lover, it wasn’t genetic.

William lifted his mother up, sat her on the edge of the pool, ducked his head between her legs. Leaning back on a mat placed there, I assume, for just this purpose, she spread her legs wide.

She shaved down there.

Sitting the iron upright, leaving the shirt unfinished, I moved closer to the window.

William was taking long slow licks, bottom to top. Milla’s head was angled back, her eyes closed, breathing through her mouth, chest heaving.

I slipped my hand through the folds of my robe into my panties, found my clit, wet, swollen and stiff, rocked my hips on my hand.

William, licking his mother’s clit, pushed a finger inside her.

I sank a finger inside myself, let out a long moan. I wanted a lover like William.

“Mom, you okay?”

My son, wearing only gym shorts — he had a nice body — was standing in the doorway. He must have woken up, gone to the bathroom, heard my moan.

Hand in my panties, I said, “I was just….”

Displaying a smile both wicked and understanding, he walked towards me and said, “I can see what you just…. Are they at it?”

Realizing my hand was still in my panties, I yanked it out and turned back to the window, as if needing confirmation, and said, “Yes. Have you watched them from here?”

Todd, standing beside me, his open hand on my shoulder, said, “Yes, they like doing it outdoors.”

Milla, body shaking, face contorted with pleasure, was coming on her son’s face.

Todd moved behind me, placed his hands on my shoulders. His touch was comforting. He said, “They’re amazing, aren’t they Mom? Can’t get enough of each other. Have you been watching long?”

Nodding to the pile of pressed laundry I said,”Yes, since they started. And you’re right, they’re amazing. Your friend William, he’s an incredible lover.”

My son slid his hands down the sides of my body, stopped at my hips, and said, “How could he not be with a lover as beautiful and passionate as his mother.”

Feeling a stab of something, was it jealousy, I said, “You think Milla’s beautiful?”

“Yes, don’t you?”

“It’s just that she’s so much older than you.”

My son ran his hands back up my body, openly appreciating my form, and said, “Oh no mother, she’s not old, she’s only a few years older than you, and look at you. Pretty and classy, smart and beautiful and, I’ve got to admit, under the influence of our neighbors I’ve started seeing you with a new point of view: you’re hot, very hot.”

Milla slid into the water, she and William kissed, kisses that began sweet and loving, but heated up fast. Milla directed her son to the spot she’d vacated.

“Really, you think those things about me?”

My son pressed his body to mine, his hard dick answering my question, kissed the side on my head, and said, “Oh definitely, my mother’s a babe. Does that bother you, does it bother you that I think you’re hot, that you turn me on?”

“No. You’re father…,” I stopped, unsure of what to say.

My son didn’t hesitate. “Dad’s a fool; I fear he’s forgotten what it is to be male, preferring to watch half-naked men to you. Maybe he’s intimidated, finds his flabby body inadequate in the presence of his sexy wife.”

He kissed my neck, said, “But I’m not a fool,” slid his hands around my waist, looked out the window as Milla, a look of depraved lust on her face, tongued her son’s dick, then pushed my hair aside and whispered into my ear, “They are amazing. Your friend, her son, burning with fundamental need. Are they wrong, are they wicked? What do you think? Should they choose denial and frustration or should they satisfy their needs, needs we all feel, that burn in all of us.”

He kissed my neck.

“And maybe, just maybe, it’s because it’s wicked, because it’s taboo, that makes it even hotter. Look around, single family homes, large lots, shade trees, SUV’s, dogs in backyards, manicured lawns. Living in a world of convention Milla and William chose not what the world says they should want, but what they want, a choice everyone around them would call depraved. Maybe, for just that reason, the fire inside them burns brighter. I don’t see regret on their faces. Do you?”

The tip of his tongue ran along the outside of my ear.

“Imagine being Milla, a smart accomplished woman, a woman of energy and spirit, who needs sex, hard sex, furious sex, but the men she meets are married or pathetic or desperate or carry enough baggage to stock a warehouse. Then she finds a man she trusts, one who’ll fuck her the way she wants, when she wants, one who doesn’t care if the world says it’s wrong. And why not, the world will never know.

Milla pulled her mouth from her son’s dick. Thick and hard, it glistened in the early afternoon sunlight. I licked my lips, imagining it in my mouth. I’d always loved sucking cock, it made me so hot.

My son nibbled on my earlobe. I pushed against him, felt his naked dick. He’d removed his gym shorts.

William slid into the water, lifted his mother into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist, took hold of his dick.

Todd moved my hand to my waist.

I slipped the hand through my robe into my panties.

“So Mom, if you were Milla, what would you say? Would you say, ‘William we need to stop, this is wrong,’ or would you say, ‘My son, my magnificent son, fuck me.'”

Milla fitted Williams’ cock to her pussy and, pure ecstacy on her face, took him inside herself.

I pushed a finger inside my sex.

Milla was sliding up and down her son’s dick when Todd, with the slightest of motions, undid my robe. It fell to the floor. Todd moved his dick between my legs. I looked down, saw his knobby cock-head, saw a drop of pre-cum leak out, then another. I closed my legs on him. He was big and hard and hot and his cock was pressed to my sex. Looking at Milla and William, at their happy intertwined bodies, I wondered, why was it wrong? Why was such happiness wrong? Why should I deny myself? If it was right out there, was it wrong in here, in my bedroom?

My husband should be putting out the fire between my legs. I’d tried, I’d tried over and over, but sports and wrestling, not my steaming sex, were his passion. In a world other than this one I’d tell Todd, “No,” then go downstairs, find my husband, who’d fuck me, fuck his horny desperate wife, fuck me like I needed to be fucked, fuck me like William fucked his mother. But I didn’t live in that world.

Milla, like me, needed to be fucked, hard and long and often. She’d found the answer in her home; she and her son had both benefitted. What would I say to Milla? I’d bless her. What would she say to me? She’d say, “Why deprive yourself? You’ve watched William and I, you know how good it can be. Your son is ready, you’re ready, do it.”

Rocking my hips, I spread cunt cream over Todd’s cock.

Milla placed a hand on Williams’ chest, dropped her head back, and the two of them, who’d been grinding their bodies into each other, switched into power-fuck mode.

Todd interrupted my reverie. “So what would you say?”

“What would I say? If I was Milla I’d say fuck me son, fuck me hard and long, fill me with hard dick.”

I reached for Todd’s dick, held it to the folds of my sex. Todd covered my hand, sliding himself on me until his thick cock-head was pressed to my clit. Eyes closed, I focused on my sex, hissed, “Oh ffuucckkk,” and we rocked our hips like long-practiced lovers. The fire in my cunt flared like solar spicules, superheated explosions whipping through me, boiling away any lingering resistance, the cock-head mashing my clit.

My orgasm was born, spread, possessed my body.

“Uuunnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhh, yyyyeeeesssssssssssssssssssssssss.”

I was leaning against the window, but seeing only the shimmering lights, magenta, tangerine, and teal, that lived in my head.

Todd angled his dick; nested the head on the opening to my vagina, said, “I have a confession. Under our neighbors’ influence I’ve come to see you in a new way. There’s a hot woman in the house who needs to be fucked and I know someone eager to do it.”

“Tell me what you want son.”

“I want to fuck my mother.”

“Todd, fuck your mother.”

He leaned over my body, kissed my neck, rubbed his palms over my sweaty breasts and stiff nipples, pinched them, and in a child-like tone, said, “Yes mommy,” and moved inside me.

He started slow, trying different angles and speeds and motions, but engulfed by a tidal wave of forbidden desire his thrusts grew long, hard, and bone-rattling, driving deep inside me, my body jolting with each impact. I loved it, I didn’t want to make love, I wanted to fuck. He was holding nothing back.

Wet and hot and needy, the furnace between my legs threatening to incinerate me, I slammed back into him, said, “Ugh, Todd, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, ugh.”

I was in a whirlpool of primal lust and desire, a place labeled off-limits by my rational mind, a place beyond my imagination.

“So big, so hard, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Outside I saw Milla whoop through a second orgasm, then a third.

Todd pounded my body, rocked my frame, his need for me as strong as mine for him. This is what I wanted, to fuck, to be fucked by a man who wanted to fuck me with a desire powerful and overwhelming, a desire he’d break all the rules for, and that was how my son fucked me and we were breaking the rules and he didn’t care and I didn’t care, didn’t care that I was his mother, didn’t care that his father was downstairs, cared only about fucking.

My pussy exploded, spasmed uncontrollably. It was intense, it was powerful, bells and whistles and sirens and horns echoed in my mind. I imagined Todd filling with his seed, but he didn’t. Instead he held me as I wiggled and shook as the orgasm rebounded, slashed, cut through me. I slumped forward, my forearms on the window, and he reached around, covered my clit, said, “You’re so fricking hot,” and resumed fucking me.

As my son drove me back up the mountain Milla and William crawled out of the pool and lay on a blanket, their happy satiated bodies nestled together, enjoying the early afternoon sun on their skin.

“Todd, I’ll no longer do without, we’ll fuck and we’ll fuck and we’ll fuck. ”

Over and over Todd buried his lovely hard cock inside my vagina. When inside it radiated heat and hardness and strength and joy; when he pulled back I burned with the desire to be filled again. I’d never felt this alive; I’d never been this alive. My juice, the kind of lubricant necessary for his relentless piston, coated his shaft. I imagined his balls, fat with sperm, churning and boiling, ready to flood my sex. I’d just had a period, it was safe, but I’d go back on the pill. When my son fucked me I wanted raw meat, no condom coated cock could satisfy.

I wouldn’t deny myself; there was no reason to deny myself. I wanted what Milla had. I wanted to be fucked. And Todd was here to fuck me.

And, at the prospect of fucking my son, fucking him over and over, fucking him morning noon, at-night, fucking him in the house, in the car, when his father was at the office or at home, a spasm shot through my cunt and a massive climax tore through my body, devoured me, electrified my skin.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhh…..Ah! Ah! Uuuuuuuuhhhhhhh. Ugh, ahhh, ugh, ugh, oh ffffuuuuuuccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.”

I jerked wildly, my cunt clamped clasped clinched, his balls contracted, and he came, and he kept coming, pouring waves of himself inside me, inundating me with cum, marking the place he’d been conceived, the place where he’d been born, knowing I’d never say no again.

We stumbled backwards, knocked over the ironing board, fell on the bed. I rolled to my side, moaned in disappointment when his cock pulled out of me.

“You okay?”

It was my husband. Was he coming up the stairs? No, his voice had echoed up the staircase, his tone more polite than concerned.

Carefully modulating my voice, I said, “Yes dear, why do you ask?”

“I thought I heard a crash.”

“Sorry Dad, that was me. I knocked over Mom’s iron.”

“You up Todd? Sleeping late after a date with a college girl? Be careful with the iron, you don’t want to hurt your mother.”

“Wouldn’t think of it Dad.”

I rolled into my son’s arms, kissed him, and said, “You can fuck all the college girls you want, as long as you leave enough for me.”

* * * * *

We lay there awhile, enjoying each other’s bodies, but I had things to do. I kissed my son, went to the bathroom, combed my hair, put on lipstick. I smelled of Todd, but when next I stood by my husband I wanted to smell of Todd, have his sweat on my skin, his seed inside me.

Downstairs it was halftime. My husband turned to me. “You okay, you look flushed.”

As a drop of my son’s cum slithered down my leg I touched my cheek, as if curious, and said, “I feel fine. I’ve got to go shopping, Pam’s coming for dinner. I figure we’ll eat about 6:00, so you can catch the late game.”

“That would be great, thanks for being so thoughtful.”

My son came down the stairs, stood next to me, squeezed my ass.

I said, “Just trying to be a good dutiful wife…,” leaned into my son, kissed his cheek, squeezed his butt, “…and mother.”

“Son, wanna watch the game?”

Todd looked at me, I nodded my head.

“Sure Dad, William and are I going to hang with Marco, but I got half an hour, but first let me walk Mom to the car.”

“You do that son.”

In the driveway Todd and I exchanged a long steamy kiss. I wondered if Milla was watching.

* * * * *

After dinner Pam and I were standing in the driveway.

“Mom, you’re in a good mood. What’s up?”

What’s up, my lovely daughter, is that your brother fucked me twice today, finishing up about thirty minutes before you got here, that’s what’s up. He’s even better than you said he was. You’re damn right I’m in a good mood, best I can remember.

That would be fun to say, but, on second thought, probably shouldn’t.

“Don’t know, just feeling chipper.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re getting a little on the side, not that I’d blame you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“C’mon Mom, it’s clear Dad’s lost all interest in sex and you’re a total fox, where do you think I get my looks from. Who could blame you?”

“Don’t worry dear, I’m not straying from the family.”

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