11 comments/ 64940 views/ 24 favorites For The Gander By: jdnunyer ########################################### Author's Note This story is primarily focused on incest, but also contains group sex (MFM and FFM), anal, interracial, a cheating wife, a cheating husband, and some voyeurism. Unlike my other work, there is nothing fantasy (i.e., no supernatural elements). All characters are entirely fictional and at least 18 years of age. ########################################### The blinking vertical line on Mel's monitor taunted her. It had started off innocent enough. A little fun to help pass the time at work. But with his last email, Adam had steered things into uncharged territory. Maybe she could just dodge the question. Keep things going as they were as if she hadn't even noticed that he wanted to know if she was ready to leave the realm of fantasy. But, then, he was only nineteen. Barely older than her son, Jake. Full-grown men often struggled with reading between the lines. Could she trust this little boy to take the hint? A wiser woman would have found a discussion board or something online, assumed a fake name, and flirted anonymously with men she'd never meet. What had she been thinking, hitting on the intern anyway? A knock came at her door. Mel gave a start and instinctively minimized the browser before turning to see who it was, even though there was nothing terribly incriminating in the empty message field. It was him. "Come with me to get a coffee," Adam said. His gorgeous smile helped his command sound more like a request than it actually was. Mel's heart raced. The correct answer was clearly "No." But, it was just coffee. Wouldn't mean that she'd agreed to his other proposal. She didn't even have to admit that she'd read the email. That she'd spent the last twenty minutes agonizing over her response. "Okay," she said, sliding back her chair. # "You know what you need?" his friend Steve asked. "To get laid. And I'm not talking about your wife. This is a job for a woman half Melissa's age." Bill rolled his eyes. "Seriously," Steve said, following the waitress with his eyes as she walked away. He made the kind of sounds most men would have reserved for the plate of wings she'd just dropped off before exhaling heavily and turning back to Bill. "Trust me, man." "Right," Bill said. "That'll totally relieve all the problems we've been having." "Course not," Steve said. "But it'll put the spring back in your step." Most of the beer he shouldn't be having with lunch disappeared in one gulp. "It's just a phase," Bill said. "We'll get through it." He'd told himself the same thing a thousand times in the past. Some of those times, he'd actually been right. But every time things got a little better for a while, they'd get a lot worse again. And each little plateau they climbed was just a little lower than the one before. Ever since Jake had gotten that acceptance letter from Princeton last week, Bill had really started to have trouble sleeping. Panic attacks hit him in the middle of the day. The personal stuff they'd fought about in the past was no big deal. The romance was gone. Why didn't he buy her flowers anymore? Would it kill him to call and let her know when he was going to be stuck in the office all night? Everyone went through that shit. In a sense, it was just in their heads anyway. This was different. He couldn't just turn on the charm offensive for a while and hope to wake up one day and find that Mel had forgiven his latest sin. He'd been saving up to help pay off his parent's mortgage for years. Between him and his two sisters, they were only a few paychecks away from being able to give their folks an anniversary gift they'd never forget. And one that would get them away from the terrible weather and high taxes and everything else. All of which would have worked out fine, if his son decided to go to state school like they'd always assumed he would. The way their daughter, Evie, was doing. Not only was the tuition much more reasonable, but they'd offered Jake a full scholarship. A degree from State wouldn't open the same doors as one from Princeton. And he understood that Jake hardly relished the idea of going to the same school as his sister. The first few weeks after she'd moved out, hardly a day had gone by without Jake pointing out that the house was much quieter without Evie around. Valid points, all around. It wasn't like the kid couldn't take out student loans, though. Like most of his generation did. That would be no small hardship, but it was an option. The way Mel talked about it, though, you'd think that wasn't. His damn wife always had to make it sound like he was trying to deny their son an Ivy League education. Every fucking time the subject came up, that would be her starting point. Then he'd insist that there were other ways of making it work even if they didn't pay for him, and she'd admit that Bill was right. Only to tell him, in the very next breath, that it was besides the point. Best of all, she'd go right back to accusing him of trying to ruin their son's future the very next time they talked about it. In fairness, Bill had been stupid enough to promise that if Jake got in to Princeton, they'd cover as much as they could. And with all the money he'd saved up, they could cover quite a bit. How was he to know the guy would actually go and get accepted though? He'd only scored a little higher than his sister on the SAT, and Evie certainly hadn't gotten accepted to any top schools. He was, of course, glad that his son had gotten accepted. It was a great opportunity. Bill just wished he hadn't been so stupid as to promise his son the same money he'd already promised his sisters that he'd spend on their parents. Bill let out a heavy sigh. Either his wife would think him a terrible father or his sisters would think him a terrible son. Screwed no matter what. And Steve's brilliant solution was to cheat on Mel. "I know a place," Steve said, staring up at him from his plate of wings. Bill scoffed. "I'm sure you do." # Mel clutched her paper cup as though it was an anchor, keeping her from being carried away on some foolish whim. Adam reached into his pocket, pulled out a paper envelope the size of a credit card, and slit it across the formica table. "What's that?" Mel asked, as if she didn't know. "A room key," the boy said. "How exciting. Does your boyfriend know yet?" "My boyf-" he started, then grinned at her. "No. It's going to be a surprise. I don't think he has quite admitted to himself that we're ready to take the next step." "Hope that works out well for you, then," Mel said. In what universe did it make sense to pump her system full of caffeine for this conversation? Her heart was already working overtime. Adam looked her straight in the eye, without so much as blinking, and in that moment she knew. It was like a door had shut behind her. And this was not a door that the little plastic card sitting on the table would open. Not even a second ago, she'd still been laboring under the illusion that she could get off the ride at any time. That she, the older and more experienced of the two, was in control. Who was she kidding? He was so young. So hot. And so confident. At no point since he'd shown up at her door had he asked her what she wanted. Not even when he ordered her coffee. He knew what she wanted, and that she was going to let him provide it. How could she not? Those green eyes had her all but hypnotized. And when he offered her a languid smile, the kind that told her that he understood exactly what she was trying to intimate, but couldn't be bothered to give a damn, well, she very nearly melted. Of course, it didn't hurt that his mocking smile revealed a set of beautiful, sparkling white teeth. Or that he had the smooth skin of a child and the body of a man. Nor that everything about him suggested that he could have any woman he wanted. Never in her life had Mel felt as desirable as she did when this young stud stared at her like that. Without even realizing she was doing so, Mel undressed Adam in her mind. Truth be told, he wasn't quite her type. She preferred her guys long and lean. Like Bill, who, for all his many failings, still looked just about as good as he had when she'd married him. His coal black hair had begun to go gray, but showed no signs of thinning. And he hadn't put on a bit of weight. That was something she only wished she could claim for herself. He'd passed those great looks on to their son, too. Jake had been fortunate enough to inherit little more from her than her intellect. Well, and her green eyes and red-brown hair. Which was strange, since Evie's mane was every bit as dark as her father's. Still, her husband had the kind of figure she'd always been drawn to, and he'd given her a strong, healthy son who shared his father's best traits. Adam, on the other hand, was short and bulky. Of course, that bulk was all muscle. Though she'd never seen him in anything but business attire, Mel could just tell that he was built like an underwear model. That beneath his smart silk shirt, he was hiding an exquisite six-pack. Maybe even a full eight-pack. "Pretty sure it will," he said at last. For a moment, Mel wasn't sure what he was talking about. Then her transparent attempt at being coy came back to her. "I'm married," she said, breathlessly. "Conveniently enough, I'm not," he said. "One fewer person to lie to." "They'll notice if we don't go back to the office," she said. "We are going to need more than a few minutes, aren't we?" "Meet me there after work," he said. For a moment, she wondered how he knew that her husband was out of town for a business meeting. Then she remembered that she'd told him, several emails back. Mel tried to imagine an excuse, but found that she didn't really want to anyway. After another sip of tepid coffee, she nodded. # The madame brought out a row of girls, all clad in lingerie or leather or costumes. Though some were young and others a bit more mature, and a range of body types and ethnicities were on display, they all looked the same to Bill. Dead inside. They'd play the part well enough, no doubt. This was a classy establishment, and the "talent" was impeccable. At least, to hear Steve tell it. But one look at the fake smiles beneath lifeless eyes, and Bill knew he couldn't go through with it. "What about that one, eh?" Steve asked, jabbing an elbow in his ribs. The girl he was pointing to did nothing for Bill. But he had to admit, the one right next to her was something else entirely. And when she noticed him noticing her, she smiled back at him. Shyly. For some reason, that totally disarmed him. The others were so straightforward, trying so hard to appear enthusiastic, that he almost reconsidered. "Or her," Steve said. He leaned in close and whispered in Bill's ear. "Here's the deal. You go make me proud, and tonight's on me. Play Mr. Upstanding Citizen, and Mel's going to get a very upsetting email tomorrow." "Well, gentlemen?" the madame asked. "Should I make introductions?" "You wouldn't," Bill whispered to Steve. "This time, I'm good for it," Steve said. Bill started to protest that he hadn't been talking about that part, but his friend had already slipped away to kiss one of the girl's hands. The one he'd made eye contact with a moment ago blushed, looked down at her feet, then glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't have looked more innocent if she tried. And though part of him was sure that she was trying, he told himself otherwise. "I'm going to regret this," he mumbled to himself. # "Are you okay?" Jake asked her as she shuffled through the front door. "Hmmm?" Mel asked. "Oh, yeah, Mommy's fine, honey." Her son sat there at the couch, bent over a pile of books, and gave her the exact look she'd have given him if he'd stumbled home drunk and insisted that he hadn't had a thing to drink. Not that she'd ever gone through that routine with him. That was more Evie's thing. "Really, I'm fine," she said, pulling herself together. How did you tell your son that you were intoxicated, but it wasn't because you'd had too much alcohol? That you were feeling no pain, and thought you just might float away if you didn't very consciously choose to remain on the ground, because you'd just gotten back from a marathon session of the best sex you'd ever had in your life? There was no hiding that something was up. She hadn't even called to tell him that she'd be getting home late from work. He'd have been wondering what had happened to her as it was. Best to say that she had been out drinking. As out of character as that would be for her, it should suffice to keep her son from guessing what had really happened. Or so she hoped. Boys that age still hadn't quite come to accept that their mothers knew what sex was, had they? Or at least refused to believe that their mothers' sexual urges continued even after they gave birth to their sons. Hell, she was in her early forties and she still wasn't sure she was ready to admit that her son was a sexual being. The same had to go for him. The young stud who'd just rocked her world was practically the same age as Jake though. A sudden bout of nausea came over Mel at that thought. It wasn't the first time it had occurred to her. But somehow, it had always been easier to dismiss in the past. She closed her eyes, and she saw Adam's hard body beneath her, glistening with sweat. Then he morphed into her son before turning back into Adam once again. They had the same color eyes. Green, just like hers. Oh, god. Was that why she was drawn to Adam? Because he reminded her of her son? Nonsense. Besides the eyes, they looked nothing alike. Adam was all rippling muscle and cool confidence. Jake was taller, leaner, and shyer. A sweet, shy boy who'd never seduce an older coworker. He'd been dating the same girl since his freshman year. If he'd so much as kissed any girl other, it would come as a surprise to Mel. So why was she thinking these thoughts? "You sure?" he asked. "Well, I might have gone out for drinks with some people from work," she said. Then, pressing a finger against her lips, she added, "Don't tell your father." Jake shook his head, put his earbuds back in, and went back to doing his homework. Mel gave him a tentative smile, slipped her shoes off, and padded down the hall to her bedroom. Once inside, the door safely closed behind her, she flopped onto the bed, spread-eagled, an let out a huge sigh. Her body still tingled, from head to toe. It had been years since she'd gotten off multiple times in a row. And Bill had never made her cum quite that hard. Never shown so much enthusiasm for oral sex. Or come in through the back door. On some level, she was still surprised with herself for letting Adam do that. But at the same time, she couldn't imagine refusing him. She'd been like putty in his hands. Her body had been his to use however he'd wished. And he'd not abused that trust one bit. Her needs had been every bit as important to him as his own. Even if he hadn't been, it still would have been amazing. Simply knowing that someone like him could find her so attractive had almost been enough for her. For a time, she'd felt proud of her big breasts and broad hips, rather than ashamed of the way gravity had caught up to her or the stretch marks her two children had given her. When Mel finally bestirred herself to go take a shower, she brought a friend from the bottom drawer of her dresser with her. # "You finished that quick?" Steve asked when he strode back into the lobby. "I'd have taken my time with that sweet, young thing." "Yeah, well," Bill said, as he climbed to his feet. "I guess that's just yet another way that I'm an inferior model." The stench of perfume and sex was getting to be too much for Bill. He could hardly breathe. Without waiting to see if his friend was following, he headed down the stairs. "Wait, you did fuck her, didn't you?" Steve asked as they descended. When Bill didn't reply, he said, "Oh, come on, man. You know they don't give refunds?" "No one told you to waste your money on me." "What was the problem? Get back there and find out she was a dude?" "Reminded me of my daughter," Bill said. He wasn't sure where that had come from, though. They hardly even looked alike. The prostitute was a few inches shorter than his daughter. Her hair had been medium brown, whereas Evie's was jet black, the same as his. And if there was one word you'd use to describe his eldest child, it was not "innocent." Not that the girl Steve had paid for him to have sex with was either, but she'd faked it well. Perhaps it was just his subconscious throwing everything it had at him in attempt to keep him from violating his wedding vows. If he wouldn't go for the obvious argument that it simply was wrong to cheat on his wife, perhaps he could be persuaded that it was really wrong to cheat on her with a girl who was young enough to be his daughter. Perhaps. But the scary part was that he'd wanted the girl even more once he'd drawn the connection. It would have been only too easy to climb atop her and pretend she was Evie. To close his eyes and imagine himself committing the most vile act known to man. "You know, sometimes I think you want to be miserable," Steve said. Bill had no reply for that. # Mel was brushing her teeth when Bill came in from the bedroom, stepped up behind her, and fondled her ass. He smiled at her, gave her a peck on the cheek, then reached around her to grab his own toothbrush. She watched her green eyes go wide in the mirror. How long had it been since he'd touched her like that? So casually? They weren't in bed, and he wasn't asking for sex. At least, not so far as she could tell. He'd already squeezed some toothpaste onto his brush, shoved it in his mouth, and walked back into the bedroom while he scrubbed his pearly whites. For the briefest instant, she resented him for it. Did he think they were on good terms now, just because he'd brought an autographed copy of one of her favorite books back from his trip? Sure, it was thoughtful of him to stop by the book signing, and to know that the author would be there when she herself hadn't even thought to check. But it wasn't like he'd made any phone calls to his sisters yet. At the same time, she couldn't deny that it felt good. The very innocent nature of his touch had made it powerfully arousing. It told her that her husband still found her sexy. How long had it been since their lovemaking had felt like anything but an obligation? A ritual? Yet with that quick little grope, Bill told her that the passion wasn't entirely gone. That she still lit his fire. It probably helped that she'd been feeling sexier lately. Men picked up on things like that. Since that unforgettable night with Adam, she'd practically turned into a new woman. Started wearing lingerie to bed again, even while Bill was out of town. Wore more makeup and perfume to work. Skipped fewer sessions at the gym. And was rediscovering some old friends in the bottom of her dresser drawer. At this rate, she might need to go out and pick up some batteries soon. Bill came back and spat in the sink then rinsed off. He always finished before her. She had no idea how his teeth were so healthy, the way he raced through brushing. "Missed you, you know," he said, running his fingers through her hair. What had come over him? Without waiting for her to respond, which she couldn't very well do with a mouth full of foam, he kissed her on the cheek again and headed back into the bedroom. For The Gander She finished up, adjusted her breasts, which looked rather amazing in the skimpy little teddy if she did say so herself, and went to join him. If he played his cards right, he just might get lucky tonight. That would be the first time in months, setting aside the obligatory quickie on his birthday. And more than a month even counting that. And the first time in years that she was genuinely excited about the prospect. Her husband was lying in bed, reading something on his laptop. "Work?" she asked. "Some articles about student loans," he replied. And just like that, her well ran dry. The man had to be mentally impaired. If he wanted to wile his way back into her good graces, the very last thing he should be doing was researching ways to screw their son over. And if he was only turning on the charm to lull her into a false sense of security, well that wouldn't work either if he was going to be so transparent about trying to weasel out of his promise. Whatever he was after, it made no sense for him to throw that in her face! "Hmm," she grunted as she slipped into bed. He looked at her. "If we take out a private loan in our name, there's practically no limit to how much we can borrow. Interest starts accruing right away, but we can afford to cover that for him until he graduates." Until he graduates. They'd make his interest payments. "I'm tired, honey. Can we turn the light out?" Mel said. Bill actually looked surprised that she hadn't pinned a ribbon on his chest for proposing such a brilliant fucking compromise. "Sure, babe," he said. And so their five week long dry spell grew one night longer. # "Hey, Sue," Bill said, staring out his office window. "How are you?" "Good. And you?" his sister asked. He let out a heavy sigh and switched his phone to his other ear. All his life, Bill had been a nervous fidgeter. His midlife crisis was only making things worse. "Been better." "What is it?" she asked. His temples throbbed. A monster of a headache was coming on and his throat felt tight. "I need to talk to you about Mom and Dad." "Are they okay?" Sue finally asked, voice tight. "Oh, yeah, they're fine," he said, realizing his mistake. Since their parents lived closest to him, he was the one they'd call in the event of another medical emergency. After Dad's prostate cancer, that was always the first place Sue's mind went. "It's not that." He drew a deep breath. "It's about their retirement." The pregnant silence said it all. He made his best case, but he knew what her reaction would be. He had, after all, made a promise. It certainly wasn't her fault, or their parents' fault, that he'd gone and promised the money to two different members of his family. Nor was it any concern of his sister's that his wife was freezing him out even worse than usual because of it. He could tell her about Mel and his promise to Jake, but he couldn't very well tell his sister that he was pretty sure that his wife was deliberately withholding sex in an attempt to get him to cave. That he was almost certain that they'd been about to do it last night, until he'd been fool enough to try to convince her that student loans were a real option. Besides, Sue knew that he and Mel had been going through tough times for years. He might win some measure of sisterly sympathy by mentioning the toll it was taking on his mariage, but not enough to get him off the hook. "Look, I'm sorry you and Mel are fighting," his sister began. Before he hung up, Bill repeated his promise to cover his share of their parents' mortgage. # Mel stared at her phone. Jake's enrollment deposit was due soon. Yet, surprise of surprises, her husband hadn't made a decision yet. Adam's internship with the local community college would also be ending soon. Tonight might be their last night together. Yet, if Bill would just do the right thing, she'd be glad to call it off. Hot as their little romance had been, she'd have no qualms about ending it prematurely, if Bill gave her a good reason to. She kept hoping that he would, too. Any minute now, she told herself, her phone would ring, and Bill would tell her that he'd come around. After she hung up, she'd send Adam an apologetic email. If only. Of course, she ought to send that email anyway. And not just because she never should have started down this path in the first place. Of late, Bill seemed to be growing suspicious. She'd probably been imagining it, but she was half sure that he was reading her emails too. The other night, she could have sworn she remembered to sign out of her account before going to bed. When she went to use the computer the next morning, Firefox was already open, and one of the tabs was open to her inbox. All the naughty stuff was filed away, but she'd been stupid enough to save the messages under the label "Adam" rather than something more innocuous. Bill hadn't said anything about it, nor behaved any differently around her than he'd been acting in general lately, but the experience still left her spooked. For most of the day, she fought with the idea of telling Adam something had come up and she couldn't make it tonight. No need to even tell him she was breaking things off. After next week, she'd never see him again anyway, unless she chose to. If she put a stop to things now, Bill would never find out. Assuming he hadn't already, that was. In the end, though, her libido won out. God help her, she liked having a regular sex life again. And it certainly didn't hurt that Adam was hot as hell and good in bed to boot. # Bill found Steve sitting at a booth. Two young women were with him. Two very young women. "For fuck's sake," he mumbled to himself, immediately turning around. He should just go back to his car. Call his friend later and claim that his car had broken down. Nothing good could come of this. Bad as things had gotten with Mel lately, he didn't know if he had it in him to walk away again, the way he had at that brothel. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that the girl sitting across from Steve and her friend looked even more like Evie than that prostitute had. Back then, it had mostly been his conscience forcing him to see what wasn't there. That was clear now that more time had passed. This time, though, there really was an uncanny resemblance. She had the same ultra fair skin and jet black hair, roughly similar facial features, and the shamefully low-cut dress she wore would have fit seamlessly into his daughter's scandalous wardrobe. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Steve couldn't possibly know that Bill had started fantasizing about his daughter after that trip. That he was counting the days til it would be time for him to drive out there and pick her up, and doing so with both excitement and trepidation. Did he even remember what she looked like? It had been years since he'd been over the house when Evie was home. He stared over his shoulder at the girl. She didn't really look that much like his daughter. And though she was entirely too young for him, she probably had a good four or five years on Evie. And ten, twelve pounds, for that matter. It wouldn't be so bad if he went through with it, really. She was in her mid-twenties. Not a girl, but a grown woman. Out of school and living on her own, most likely. Besides, he was pretty sure that wife was having an affair of her own. How bad could he feel about cheating on her if she was already cheating on him? Bill drew a deep breath headed over to the booth. "There he is!" Steve called out, beaming at him. # Mel paced back and forth, staring at the front door. She couldn't believe she was going through with this. Until now, they'd only met at hotel rooms. Now they were going to soil the very bed she shared with Bill. After what should have been her last night with the boy, she and Bill had their worst fight yet. She'd asked him if he had any news for Jake, and again he brought up student loans. Didn't he get that Jake didn't want to have that kind of debt hanging over him when he got out of school, even if it meant he got to go to Princeton? With a full scholarship awaiting him at State, of course he was going to decline if they couldn't help him out. It made her so angry to think of the way he was forcing their son to sell his future short, just because Bill didn't have the balls to stand up to his sisters. There was obviously only one way to respond: revenge sex. She realized how absurd that was, of course. In truth, it wasn't even revenge sex. That was just a rationalization. Mel wanted to fuck her young stud one more time, and wanted the rush of knowing that she'd risked getting caught to do it. It was as simple as that. After the second time she found the browser open to her inbox, she was sure that Bill knew. And she no longer cared. She almost hoped he'd called out of work too, that he was planning on interrupting them. She'd love to see the look on his face. And to have an excuse to put this farce to an end. She stopped dead in her tracks at the thought. Had she really crossed that line? Was she really hoping for a divorce? If so, it would be awfully stupid to let her affair be the precipitating event. Bill was cheating on her too at this point. She was sure of it. Of course, he was barely even trying to hide it, so it would be hard not to be. He'd come home smelling of cum and perfume the last time he said he was going out for drinks with Steve. If she could catch him in the act, she might get enough of his money to help Jake go to Princeton after all. But if he had pictures of her and her lover in their house, that would never happen. Mel whipped out her phone and started clicking through her phone book. Then a knock came at her front door. Too late. She could tell him this was a bad idea. Ask him to leave. He'd understand, wouldn't he? Of course he wouldn't. He was a teenager. He was pumped full of hormones and convinced that he had the most addictive drug known to womankind inside his pants. Besides, there was no way Bill was going to bust in on them. If her husband had any testicular fortitude, if he wasn't completely incapable of standing up to anyone, they wouldn't be in this mess. He'd have told Sue and Ann to fuck off. She smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles in her babydoll, fixed her breasts, hiked up her thigh high stockings, and then answered the door. Adam gave her a quick look up and down, carefully hiding his excitement, and said, "I'm sorry, miss, I must have the wrong house." "Oh, shut up, you," she said, reach out to grab him by the wrist. "Get in here before the neighbors see me dressed like this." He laughed as he stumbled over the threshold. Before she even had the door shut, his hands were grabbing at her. She giggled as she tried, haphazardly, to get away. Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't resist him. He was too fast, too strong. Too determined. The burning passion in his eyes made her quiver. They didn't even make it up to the bedroom. Just did it right there in the living room. On the floor, on the coffee table, and on the couch. Over and over and over again. Her gorgeous stud was so young, so full of stamina. He never needed more than a few minutes after ejaculating before he was ready to go again. She eventually noticed that they were caught in the act after all. Which ought not to have come as a surprise, given how reckless they'd been. But it wasn't Bill who'd been spying on them. # "You really think this is cool?" Lem asked. Jake snickered. "Dude, sometimes I wonder if my parents remember I still live here." If they did, you'd think his mother might not bring her teenage lover home. Might not leave her email open on the family desktop, for anyone to peruse. The mere thought made him shudder. And when Jake closed his eyes and pictured the things he'd seen his mother doing with the guy just a few hours earlier, in his very own living room, his body reacted even more strongly. And in all the wrong ways. "We should at least close the doors, no?" he asked. "Obviously," Jake said. He got up and went to the entrance to the den. "We're gonna watch a movie, ma," he called out. "I'm closing the doors so you don't have to hear." "Okay, dear," she called back. "Speaking of," Lem said, "we gonna have to mute it?" "Prolly, yeah," Jake said. "The doors help, but sometimes they scream pretty loud. Even if we turn the volume down low, she might hear something." "Right," Lem said. "And that would be bad." "Yes," Jake said, staring at his friend flatly. "That would be bad." "Just fucking with ya," his friend said, clapping him on the back. So Lem started browsing through selections at a streaming adult video site while Jake set up the cables to connect the laptop to the TV. "Gotta be MILF?" Lem asked. "That a problem?" "Not really," he said. "Wouldn't mind a little interracial, but MILF definitely works." Of course he wouldn't mind interracial. They only ever used the most ridiculously well-endowed black guys for those movies, further perpetuating certain myths. Of course, Lem insisted it wasn't a myth, but it wouldn't surprise Jake at all to find out that his friend was smaller than him. Granted, most men were. He was lucky in that respect. But still. "Oh, this is it," Lem said. Jake looked over his friend's shoulder. "Watching Mom Go Black 14? Really?" "Hellz to the yeah," Lem said, nodding his head emphatically. His heart raced as he heard himself say, "Whatever, man. It's your money." For an instant, he wondered what it would be like to watch his mother fuck for the second time that day. To watch his mom go black. Suddenly, he found it hard to breathe. His stomach heaved, and it was a wonder he didn't vomit. Yet, despite that, his semi was rapidly becoming a full-blown erection. He turned away from the laptop, feigning disgust, and tucked his cock up into the waistband of his shorts. He pulled the couch a little closer to the TV and took a seat. "Here we go," Lem said as he finished typing his credit card number in. "Oh, god," Jake said as the opening credits rolled. He covered his face with his hands, peering out between his fingers, and groaned. On screen, snippets of one voluptuous white woman after another appeared, most of them sucking or riding monstrous black cocks. None of them looked particularly mature, but that was no real surprise. Everyone knew that "MILF" was just a porn industry codeword for curvy, the same as "teen" or "barely-legal" meant "flat-chested and wearing her hair in ponytails." Besides, it was the curves he was interested in anyway. He didn't really want to watch older women fuck. Or so he told himself. "Yeeeaaaah boi," Lem said, punching Jake in the bicep. "This is happening," Jake said. "This is actually happening." It was weird. He'd watched porn with his friends before, but everyone always pretended it was no big deal, that it didn't even turn them on. They'd laugh at the terrible acting, rag on the girls with bad boob jobs, and just generally make complete asses of themselves. It made Jake feel dirty and pathetic and misogynistic, yet gave him a cheap thrill all the same. This was going to be different. He could feel it already. "Hey, there's a redhead," Lem said as the brief intros to the women advanced. "I do believe she is," Jake said. "Your powers of observation are a wonder to behold." His friend flashed him a toothy grin. "You know who else has red hair?" "Fuck you," Jake said. God, he would give his left foot to see that. He didn't care how horrible a human being that made him. The sight of his mother taking it in every hole from her young lover was already permanently seared into his memory. He'd thought her skin looked exceptionally fair in contrast with that of the man lying atop her this afternoon. How milky would her big, fat tits look in Lem's chocolate hands? Watching her suck and fuck Lem's cock, however big it might or might not be, would drive him crazy. The first woman up was a tall, hot mess with fake tits, a fake tan, and fake blonde hair. Her face left something to be desired, and he felt like he should have thought the same about her body, but there was something fascinating about her thick thighs, huge, round ass, and relatively slender waist. It wasn't just her extreme curves, which were more than a little appealing. The stretch marks and cellulite that the extreme closeups revealed in all their glory made Jake's cock twitch. That should have turned him off, but instead it seemed to humanize her. To offset some of the artificiality evoked by all her fake parts. Her tan, tits, and locks aside, she was a real woman, with serious curves and realistic imperfections. "Barbie, after her divorce," Lem said, chuckling. "Nah, Ken's still whoring her out at this point," Jake said. "The real hard times are yet to come. You can tell because she hasn't got that heroine chic look of starvation yet." "Day-umn," his friend said. "That's harsh, bro." Jake shrugged. "Tell me I'm wrong." "Nah. You ain't that." Yet he felt like he should wash his mouth out after saying it. Why did being young and male have to mean constantly needing to prove that you were just as hateful, overconfident, crude, and selfish as the next prick? More to the point, why did he feel guiltier about succumbing to peer pressure than he did fantasizing about his fucking mother? In what world did that make sense? His, evidently. They continued making nasty comments for the next ten minutes or so. But once things really started to heat up, they got a lot quieter. For Jake, that was the moment the two guys appeared and the black guy started mocking the son. Even with the sound off, it was obvious that was what was happening. The white kid hung his head in shame, though he never bothered to look away for more than a few seconds. The black guy made a show of treating the mother like a piece of meat. He ripped her clothes off, slapped her huge ass and laughably firm tits, squeezed her face, and then really started to manhandle her. "Okay, this I can do without," Jake said. "Why does porn have to be so violent?" "Pussy," Lem said. After that, Jake kept all such thoughts to himself. One monster facial that obviously involved fake jizz later, a new actress came on screen. This one was short, cute, and brunette. She too had a big ass and big tits, but hers might actually have been real. Unlikely, given their size and the norms in the industry. But if nothing else, she'd gotten much better work done. They had some real sag to them and bounced deliciously when she strutted across the room in her monster heels. This time, one black guy was not enough. The poor woman's son, who looked no more than five years younger than her, had to watch as two burly studs tag-teamed her. Jake and Lem hardly spoke a word throughout the scene. The two of them just sat there, pretending not to notice the other guy rubbing himself through his shorts, enraptured. By the time a third black guy joined in, Jake was close to asking Lem if it would freak him out if Jake jerked off. The woman had a dick the size of a soda can in her snatch, another monster in her ass, and another one in her mouth. The guy who was supposed to be her son watched in wide-eyed fascination. It was very nearly more than Jake could handle. "Fucking Tupperware Party," Lem said at last. His friend's sudden disruption of the long silence jarred him. Jake shook himself out of his reverie and took his hand out of his pants. "Dude," said Lem, who had been rubbing himself through the fabric of his shorts but hadn't actually touched himself. "Don't go getting all freaky on me." For The Gander "What are you talkin' about?" Jake asked, looking his friend dead in the eye as he dared him to name the lie. "Whatever," Lem said, shaking his head. "Just keep it together, okay? Your mom hasn't even come on screen yet." Jake gasped. The subtext had been obvious enough when he'd commented on the woman's hair color. But there it was, out in the open. He wasn't just watching porn with his friend. Porn with a theme of white guys watching black guys fuck their mothers. He was about to watch a woman who looked like his mother, at least in some very superficial ways, get fucked by a black guy, while his stand-in watched in horror and fascination. And perhaps joined in. "Shall we?" Lem asked, slipping out of the couch to kneel in front of the laptop. Jake nodded. He wasn't sure what his friend was proposing, but he had a pretty good guess. Sure enough, Lem went and jumped over the rest of the brunette's scene, hot as it no doubt would have been. Then, having gone just a bit too far, he then backed it up to approximately the start of the redhead's scene. "Eh? Eh?" his friend asked, beaming at him. Jake sad not a word. Just gestured sharply for his friend to get out of the way and then resumed his impression of a zombie, staring slack-jawed and wide-eyed at the screen. She really didn't look that much like his mother. Her skin was too tan, her hair too long, and her facial features completely different. Height was about right, and the electric green eyes helped. But the tramp stamp and tongue-piercing did not. Her breasts were more obviously fake than the brunette's had been, but not quite as bad as the blonde's. The rest of her body was perfect though. Voluptuous-and-then-some, with strong thighs and a big, round ass that made Jake drool. Her skin had the same subtle imperfections that endeared him to the tall blonde. Not quite as prominent perhaps, which was fine by him, but enough to help him see her as a real person. Suddenly, the den doors slid open. Jake jerked upright, twisting around to see who it was. As if there was any doubt. For his part, Lem actually laughed. "Um," his mother said, planting her hands on her hips, the way only mothers and cartoon characters can do without looking melodramatic. "What, exactly, are you boys watching?" Neither of them replied. "Jake? Honey? I asked you a question." "What's it look like?" he replied, in a small voice. He wished he could take it back. It wouldn't do him any good to get snide with her. Feeling defensive, he'd panicked and said the first thing to come to mind. Fortunately enough, though, his mother merely snickered. She glanced at the screen for a few moments before saying, "Looks like porn." "Yeah," Jake said. So. There it was. They'd been caught red-handed. Who knew what trouble he was in. "Any good?" his mother asked, taking a few steps further into the room. Jake's head spun. What the hell was happening? Why wasn't she furious? That actually looked like amusement on her face. Did that mean she had some really devious punishment planned for him? Like the time she'd caught him smoking and made him burn through seven cigarettes in row, one right after another? He never had touched tobacco again. "I dunno," Jake said. "S'okay," Lem said. He wished his friend wouldn't humor her. That would only make things worse. "What's it called?" His mother rested her hands on the back of the couch, just above Jake's head, and leaned forward to get a better view. He resisted the urge to look up and see her heavy breasts dangling above him. "Dare I ask?" Lem looked at him as if to ask "You gonna tell her, or should I?" To that, Jake responded with a shrug. "Watching Mom Go Black," Lem said, with a smug smile. "Fourteen." "Oh, fourteen," his mother replied. "Personally, I think that series went downhill after the first dozen or so, but hey. Still a solid premise." Lem snickered. For his part, Jake simply held his breath, waiting for the hammer to drop. "That's supposed to be her son?" she asked. "He's probably the same age as her." "Seriously," Lem said. Jake flashed him an indignant look. He'd been the one to notice the discrepancy first. There couldn't have been a stupider thing to get hung up on, though. He was a fish out of water, floundering around wildly. This was too unreal. His mainframe was on the fritz. "Just look at that huge tattoo on her lower back. So trashy," his mother said. "And did I see a tongue-piercing a moment ago? She looks like a tramp, not a suburbanite." "Maybe she's not supposed to be?" Jake said. "Oh, please," his mother said. "Look at that McMansion. And the way her son is dressed? They've obviously supposed to be well-off." "We may have overlooked those details," Lem said. His mother chuckled at that. Well, one of them had. Jake hadn't for a moment thought the woman looked like the soccer mom she was evidently supposed to be. It just didn't seem like her ink and piercings were the most important details. Nor could you expect much else from the porn industry. "Well, she's, um, certainly enthusiastic," she added, a moment later. "Eh," Lem said with a shrug. On screen, the woman had just spat a huge gob of saliva onto her chocolate lollipop. Now she'd taken it deep in her throat and was shaking his her head about as she gagged on it. "I don't know why they do that," Jake said. "Or why the men always smack her in the face with it. Do they think guys like that? Or would the kind of blowjob that actually feels good just be too boring to watch?" His mother leaned to the side to look down at him, eyebrows raised. Perhaps it was a little transparent that he was trying to show her that he didn't care for the more humiliating aspects of the otherwise enchanting display. Did he want a pat on the head? Was he expecting to think her an enlightened, forward thinking kind of guy? "Have a lot of experience with what makes a blowjob feel good, do we?" she asked. Oh. Maybe that was worthy of an eyebrow raise too. "Or with what's fun to watch?" she asked. All the oxygen left planet Earth. Or perhaps just Jake's lungs. Did she know about his little act of voyeurism earlier that day? Towards the end, it had seemed like she'd looked up at the stairwell, where'd he crouched silently, believing himself to be more or less out of view. When she hadn't freaked the fuck out, or so much as sat him down for a stern talking to after the guy had left, he'd assumed that it had only been in his mind. But perhaps he'd been mistaken. "It's not like I'm a kid anymore," he said. "We're eighteen." His mother snickered. "Well, I guess that makes you an expert." "Oh, your son's no virgin," Lem said. "He and Katie-" "She doesn't want to hear about that," Jake said. His mother put a hand on his shoulder, sending sparks of electricity through his body. Well, and stilling his tongue. Which was probably more to the point. "Just the one, though," Lem continued. "I tried to get him to hook up with some girls from across town last fall, at the homecoming game. But your son's nothing if not loyal." "Hmm," his mother said. If Jake had expected his mother to be impressed by that, he'd have been sorely disappointed. Did she want him sleeping around, cheating on his girlfriend? Onscreen, the sloppy blowjob had ended and the woman was now mounting the guy cowgirl. It didn't seem to take any effort for her to fit the entire length of his dick inside her pussy. The man wasn't as absurdly huge as some of the other guys that had already appeared in the film, but he was far from small. About as big as Jake. Yet Katie always had trouble fitting him in at first. He couldn't imagine her sliding right down his pole the way the redheaded pornstar just had. "Is he supposed to be big?" Jake's mother asked. That drew a gasp from Jake, and Jake's gasp drew laughter from Lem. "What?" his mother asked. "How's she supposed to know, man?" his friend asked, smacking his arm. "Hasn't seen any but your father's in decades." "Well, that's not quite true," Jake's mother said. Oh, god. His cock ached so hard, it felt like it might snap in two. "I'm no size queen," she went on, "but if I was going to go black, I think I'd be expecting a bit more than that, you know?" "That's just a my-" Jake began. "And how does a guy get to be a pornstar with a gut like that?" his mother continued. "Is that really the best they could do?" "Can't blame you there," Lem said, ever so helpfully. "You don't let the girls down, do you, Lem?" she asked. "Okay, okay, I get it," Jake said, standing up. "I shouldn't be watching porn in your house. I'm duly chastised. Can I go to my room now?" His mother stared at him in disbelief. "What are you talking about, sweetie? We're just a bunch of adults, having some fun, right? No harm in that." "You're flirting with my friend," he said. Was that righteous indignation, or just bald jealousy? He knew the answer to that question. And he was pretty sure his mother did as well. But he still felt the need to put on the show, if only for Lem's sake. The truth was too weird. "Am I?" she asked. Turning to Lem, she said, "Would you like to make my son watch his mom go black?" Before Lem, who had finally lost his composure, could answer, she turned back to Jake. "Now, see, if I were to say that, I'd be flirting with him." "But you didn't?" Jake asked, sarcasm dripping from his mouth. Did she really expect him to believe that she'd only said it to make a point? "If I wanted Lem to fuck me, Jake, you'd both know it," his mother said, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. "Older women don't fuck around like girls your age do. We understand that life is too short." Jake pressed his palms against his eyes. "Fine. I take it back. You weren't flirting. This is all so very harmless. Just like watching violent and degrading porn casually with my friends, as if it were just another movie. Point taken, Mom." "You keep saying that," his mother replied, a bit impatiently. "Why are you so sure that I'm trying to discipline you? Can't I be interested in hanging out with you without it meaning either that you're in trouble or that I want to get in your friend's pants?" Actually, Jake was pretty sure that it really couldn't mean that. Not since she'd caught them watching what she'd caught them watching. Still, he said, "I'm sorry. If you'd like to take a seat, feel free." A hint of amusement twinkled in his mother's eye and one corner of her mouth stretched up, forming the beginnings of a grin. "So. Tell me, dear, am I supposed to think it a complete coincidence that you're watching a redheaded mother fuck her son's black friend while he plays the voyeur?" Oh, fuck. She totally knew. There was nothing voyeuristic about watching two people have sex when they knew you were there, when the whole point was to humiliate the one who was watching. What the white kid in the porn was doing didn't match anyone's definition of voyeurism. But she'd chosen that word for a reason. Lem stared at Jake, looking a little freaked out now. Probably a little confused too. He couldn't possibly have picked up on his mother's subtext. But there was no missing the bulge in his shorts. Unnerved and disoriented though he might be, he liked what was happening. It sort of looked like he was silently asking Jake to make it stop. But it was just as likely that he was hoping his friend would give his permission for things to go forward. Jake struggled to find a semi-plausible response. One other than the truth, of course. Nothing came to mind. His mother had him dead to rights. And the two of them knew something Lem did not. They knew that he'd already watched his mother with another man once that day, and that he'd liked it. And she was glad that he had. Jake hadn't been sure about that before, but he finally looked past his own anxieties to see how rapidly she was breathing, the way her nostrils flaring, and that her pupils were dilated and her nipples fully erect. He was attracted to his mother. Sexually. And she was getting all hot and bothered by that. So much so that she was going to ask Lem to help her take care of her little problem. That should have bothered Jake. It should not, not, not, have him leaking pre-cum. Perhaps noticing the vibe that Jake and his mother were giving off, Lem finally took notice of the woman standing before him. Really took notice of her. And to judge by the look on his face, he liked what he saw. Jake certainly couldn't blame him. The circumstances alone probably would have had both of them plenty turned on, even if his mother wasn't all that hot. The mere fact that she was his mother, that there were few things in this world that were more forbidden than mother-son incest, had his heart racing. And how could Lem not be excited by the prospect of his friend's mother wanting to seduce him? That she was smoking hot, and she was, amounted to no more than the cherry on top. Strangely enough, that was easier for Jake to appreciate now than it had been earlier in the day, when he'd seen so much more of her. Then, he'd been peaking around the edge of a wall, from an awkward angle, afraid of being seen. Now, he was staring openly at his mother. Yes, there was a couch between them, and she was wearing one of his father's dress shirts, which was doing as good a job hiding her huge breasts as any garment could. But even so, Jake felt as if he was bathing in the light of his mother's beauty for the first time. Her skin was as fair as porcelain, her lips full and red, her lashes long, her natural brows dark and full, and her eyes bright green. Her nose was slender, her chin pointy, and her face shaped like a heart. Yes, there were laugh lines and crows feet marring her visage, and her skin had a hint of the gaunt yet also droopy look that comes with age. Her gorgeous red-brown hair, lightly curled and so shiny it could almost be said to glow, did have a few grays mixed in. But his mother was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Hands down. He could only imagine what she'd look like when his father had married her. No, fuck that. He actually didn't think that a younger her would appeal to him nearly as much. She'd have matched conventional standards of beauty more then, but so what? He didn't want a beautiful little girl with a tight, flat ass and perky little tits. He wanted a woman, with heavy breasts and real hips. "Guys?" Lem asked, breaking the spell. Jake licked his dry lips. "Turn the movie off." "You sure?" Lem asked Jake's mother, ignoring his friend. She nodded, without taking her eyes off her son. "Jake, honey, do me a favor." "Sure," he said, breathlessly. "In my room, in the bottom drawer of my dresser, there's a bottle of lube." He almost passed out. But he was letting his libido run away with him. She was going to tell him to go fetch it, bring it back, then give her and Lem some privacy. There was no question that his mother was going to get fucked for a second time that day, but that didn't mean he was going to get to watch for a second time. The crazy train had to come to a stop sooner or later. "Grab yourself a drink on the way back," she added. "A drink?" "One of your father's beers," his mother continued. "Or some of my tequila, if that's more your thing. Whatever you prefer. But get yourself something, because this might be harder for you to watch than you think." "Yeah, it will," Lem said, grinning ear to ear. Jake stared at him coolly. "Fuck you, man. Don't tell me you'd refuse, if you were in my shoes." Truthfully, he wasn't sure he would in his own shoes, in the insanely unlikely event that his mother would be depraved enough to go there. That wasn't going to happen, of course, but the mere fact that he knew what his answer would be if it did told him that he really couldn't begrudge his friend wanting to seize the opportunity of a lifetime. Without another word, Jake went and did as his mother bid. Not long ago, the other objects she kept in the bottom drawer of her dresser would have hit him like a right hook. Knowing that she had any sex toys would have been a surprise, nevermind the exotic assortment thereof, or the intimidating size of some of them. Now, though, he hardly even stopped to dwell on it. After everything else that had happened, was about to happen, her collection seemed rather tame. He did note, though, that her collection was rather complete. There were huge dongs, anal beads, butt plugs, and much else besides. He was too numb to tell whether the thought of his mother being into anal play excited or repulsed him. Perhaps a bit of both. He'd thought her young lover had fucked her ass earlier that afternoon, but it had been hard to tell from his vantage point. Whether he had or not, though, the toys in his mother's dresser made it clear that she was no stranger to that more exotic branch of lovemaking. By the time he got back to the den, a bottle of lube in one hand and tequila in the other, the fun had already started. He'd thought maybe they'd wait for him, but the look in his mother's eyes should have disabused him of that notion. With most of his length disappearing inside his mother's mouth over and over again, it was hard to tell for sure, but Jake thought that Lem was no bigger than he was. Clearly, he hadn't been shortchanged in that department. But neither did he rival the biggest of the guys they'd just seen in the surprisingly apt skin flick they'd watched. Or the biggest of his mother's toys, for that matter. Jake took a deep breath as he quietly set the lube on the floor beside his mother. Then he sat down on the couch, leaned back, and poured himself a generous helping of tequila. His mother didn't bother with any of the stupid flourishes found in each and every scene of modern porn. Didn't smack his cock against her cheeks, didn't spit on him, didn't force herself to gag, and didn't pop her cheek out with the tip of his dick. She just wrapped her lips around him and worked him like a pro. Back and forth, back and forth, then pausing to, presumably, showcase her tongue work. Occasionally, she'd take his full length all the way in, until her nose was buried in his velcro bush, if only to prove that she could. It was a wonder his friend hadn't exploded already. Jake probably would have. From the looks of it, his mother really knew what she was doing. His cock twitched in jealousy. As he'd known that it would, the contrast of his friend's beautiful dark skin against his mother's breathtakingly fair complexion bordered on hypnotic. Lem looked even darker, and his mother that much fairer, in contrast with one other. The tequila slowly disappeared from Jake's glass as he watched the shockingly depraved act. His mother's hand was starting to substitute for her mouth more and more often, but she always swallowed Lem's dark stick back up. If either her jaw or his balls were getting ready to give out, neither let it show. It seemed like the fellatio festival might go on forever. After working his way through the better part of another glass of tequila, the effects of which he was already starting to feel, Jake went to his knees behind his mother. He reached around her neck and, starting from the top, began to unbutton his mother's, er, his father's shirt. Whosever it was, the thing was coming off. His mother let him get as far as the third button before she swatted his hand away. "If I need a hand with anything, I'll let you know," she said. Jake cleared his throat. For a second, he considered ignoring her. When Katie tried to get him to stop undressing her, it was almost always just for show. A test of his resolve. A symbolic gesture to preserve her dignity. Something along those lines. It was only when she continued to resist after he kept trying that he'd learn that she really wasn't in the mood. Perhaps it was the same with his mother.