A Night Out For Mom And Son

Lisa chuckled at the movie, almost snorting out the sip of white wine she just had; her heart felt warm and fuzzy, when Travis' laughter rang loudly in the living room.

She felt lucky to have her son back in the house; the past two lonely years had been quite rough. Her husband dead, her son studying abroad, and she had had nothing to do, nothing to expect.

On occasion, in the middle of sleepless nights, she'd close her eyes and beg for whatever deity resided up in the heavens and looked down upon the world to take her away, put her out of her misery.

Thankfully, the deity did not listen to her desperate pleas; she had another small sip of wine and continued lovingly to stare at her son—unable to stop marveling over how much he'd changed.

"Mom," he said, pointing at the television, "you're missing the good part!" He kept on laughing, despite the numerous times he'd already seen Jim Carrey's and Jeff Daniels' antics. "Is everything all right?" He asked in a more solemn tone.

"Yes, honey, don't worry," she was quick to dispel the fear that darkened his eyes. "I just...I'm so glad you're home, that's all."

"I'm sorry I haven't been around much, especially when dad..." He cleared his throat and gave his closed eyelids a good rub. "But, I'm here now!" He leaned forth and took her hand into his.

For a moment everything felt fine; she had nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. Of course, her mind was instantly swarmed with all the dark thoughts that often turned her mood suicidal during the lonely nights.

The risk of foreclosure, the amassed debt of her husband she was now forced to pay back with her miniscule salary as secretary, the unemployment rate that meant it'd be nigh impossible for Travis ever to find a job...she leaned back on the armchair, trying to give her son the most reassuring smile she could muster, and for as long as the movie lasted, she was able to put her troubles on the back of her mind.

"Hey, mom," Travis stretched on the chair, when the ending credits rolled, "what do you say we go out tonight?"

"What?!" She chuckled perplexed. "It's almost 10, honey!"

"It's Friday night, mom!" He insisted. "We can sleep in tomorrow; besides, when was the last time you went out? For a drink? To have a good time?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "You go out, honey. The nights belong to the young, not people my age!"

"Oh, come on!" Travis leaned forth, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're still young; besides, having fun is not an age-thing! Come, quit this defeatist attitude. Let's go out, together."

"Honey," she shook her head, "why would you...you should go out with your friends, try and find a good girl...you should..."

"Is it so bad," he feigned offense, "that I want to take my mother out for a drink?"

"No, it's just...I'm tired, honey. It's getting late for me."

"Come on! I know a great place!" He got up from the chair excitedly and pulled her up on her feet quite forcefully. "Go get dressed, mom! It's Friday night, we should have some fun!"

"Honey," she exasperated, "I don't feel like going out, I just..."

"You won't regret it, I

promise

!"

"Fine," she sighed in resignation.

It was with some pride she inspected herself, standing in front of the mirror in her underwear; despite being only a couple of years shy from the big fifty, she was still in good shape.

She sucked in the tiny gut that was beginning to form and continued to marvel over her body, her self-confidence gradually increasing; her breasts were still firm and sturdy, gravity was only now beginning to take notice of her, and her legs remained thin and toned.

More eager now to go out, yet with regrets still clouding her mind, she put on a floral long dress with a decent cleavage.

"Mom!" Travis sighed theatrically. "That's...a great dress, sure, but...it's

Friday night

," he repeated once more, trying to emphasize an importance Lisa could not comprehend.

"What's wrong?" She asked, with some frustration in her voice. "It's a lovely dress, fit for..."

"Don't even dare to say it," he warned her, jestingly. "Why don't you wear something a bit more...I don't know? Better suited for a night club."

"

Night club

?" She gasped. "I thought we were just going out for a drink, not..."

"It's a

special

night club; don't worry. No rampaging teenagers high on ecstasy."

"It's not what I meant, I..." she ran her fingers through her hair, staring at Travis, trying to decipher him. "I don't like loud music, or..."

"It's not that kind of a night club, mom," Travis said, his voice once more serene and steady. "It's just...well, people get dressed up all nice and...

sexy

for it."

"Travis," she said firmly, "what are you talking about? You do remember I'm your

mother

, right?"

"Yes, mom," he chuckled. "All I'm saying is, just because you're my mother, doesn't mean you can't dress up a bit more...you're also a

woman

, right?"

"Be that as it may..." she tried to say, but, Travis was quick to interrupt her:

"I'm not saying put on a skimpy dress, just...something more appropriate for a night club, not something you'd wear to go out for an early afternoon walk. That's all," he shrugged.

Back in the bedroom, Lisa searched her wardrobe; she could still fit in most of the dresses she had from the early years of her marriage, but...her face turned scarlet, when she inspected the well-hidden dresses of her youth.

No way I'm wearing that,

she silently commented on pretty much every dress she pulled out of the wardrobe depths and threw unceremoniously on the bed. She was, nonetheless, intrigued by Travis' insistence of her dressing up

sexy

; she could not fathom what exactly he wanted, but, she felt certain he had some sort of a plan.

She tried on a black, strapless dress that hardly reached below her ass; the reflection on the mirror was quite flattering and she did contemplate about going out wearing it. A drowning sensation overcame her, when she recalled how long it had been since the last time she went out dressed up sexily.

With a sigh, she pulled out her six-inch heels from the back of the wardrobe; when she put them on and took two cautionary steps, she nearly fell flat on the floor. Her face scarlet, she sat on the bed ready to take them out. She didn't.

Suddenly, it became a personal bet—

perhaps

, she thought,

that's all Travis is trying to accomplish, to make me live again

—to go out looking as attractive as possible and make even younger guys give her a second glance.

"Holy shit!" Travis gasped, then covered his mouth in theatrical shame. "Mom, you look...

absolutely gorgeous

!"

"Thanks, honey," she smiled, still leaning on the wall, re-learning to balance on the high heels.

"So, you ready?" He clasped his hands together.

"Yes," she said hesitantly; then, she finally noticed Travis' outfit. "Is that what you're..."

"Yeah, why?" He looked down at his fishnet shirt and tight leather pants that did not conceal the diagram of his thick penis running along his upper thigh.

"Don't you think it's a bit...I don't know," she scratched the back of her neck, unable to put her thoughts in words. Moreover, she could not stop staring at his penis, which appeared nearly double the size of his father's; and Travis' was

flaccid

too!

"Provocative?" Travis winked. "Yeah, that's the point, you know? Look at us," he put his arm around her bare shoulders, "a hot duo of mother and son that's going to drive everybody in the club nuts tonight!"

"You know," she wrapped her arm around his waist, "I still remember you as a timid young boy, face constantly buried in books. When did you..."

"College has its perks, mom," he shrugged. "Besides, you

always

encouraged me to go out more, socialize...remember?"

"Yeah, I..." she sighed heavily. "You driving?"

"Well, I don't think you can, mom. Not with these heels!"

"Right," she brushed her hair off her forehead and climbed into the passenger seat.

Her heart raced, whenever they got stuck in the traffic; young guys, driving toward a bar, ready to party the night away, were staring at her without inhibition. Some waved, others just ogled. The red color of her face was not solely due to embarrassment.

After a 45-minute tediously slow ride, Travis parked in a small, almost full parking lot next to a small building resembling more of an oversized metal box than a night club of any sort.

"Here we are," he said with a bright smile, as he stood by the heavy metallic door of the small building.

"What's this place?" She asked, worrisomely. "It looks more like a container, than..."

"Most of the club," he hastily explained, "is underground."

"And that's supposed to...comfort me, or something? Honey," she said, a faint tremor in her voice, "this place looks quite...

shady

."

"Don't worry, mom," Travis chuckled warmly. "Do you think I'd take you to a drug den, or something?"

"I hope not," she half-joked, failing properly to smile.

"So, what do you say? Shall we go in?" He had already pulled the door open, offering a small bow to his mother, when she walked in.

Lisa was taken aback, when she encountered the interior; beautifully decorated, albeit somewhat dark, with leather furniture against the walls, a few paintings, and a smiling young man standing behind the counter.

She flushed, when her gaze fell on the man's naked torso, his six-pack, his muscular arms.

"Hello, ma'am," the man bowed his head, with a bright, tantalizing smile. "Hey, Travis," the man's rehearsed look changed, when he noticed Travis. "How are you, man?"

They hugged and clapped each other on the back, while Lisa stood there uncomfortably; the young clerk was only wearing a thong, which did a horrible job at concealing his endowment.

"Mom, this is Patrick," Travis made the introductions.

"That's your

mother

?" Patrick said in surprise. "Damn, I'd have never...it's a pleasure to meet you." His handshake was firm, yet gentle. Lisa muttered a "you too" back, a lump in her throat choking down most of her words.

"We'll talk later, man," Travis said to his friend, then put his arm around Lisa's shoulders once more. "Come on, let's go have a drink."

"Sure, yes, I..." she shook her head, still in a state of complete bewilderment.

They climbed down the narrow, spiral staircase—Lisa feared every step would be the one to send her tumbling down the stairs—and reached the crowded barroom; Lisa's eyes popped wide open in astonishment, when she realized her outfit—which she thought to be fairly slutty—was the most conservative in the room.

"Hey, Anna," Travis had already gone to the bar—Lisa's jaw dropped, when she recognized his high school sweetheart. "I'll have a bourbon and..."

"Ms. Papadakis," Anna rushed out of the counter to embrace her. "It's been so long! My God, you still look fabulous!"

"Thanks, sweety, I...you too," she added, after clearing her throat—overwhelmed by Anna's mini skirt, which left the bottom part of her ass revealed, and bikini top, which barely covered her nipples.

"What will you have?" Anna asked her. "Of course, it's on me!"

"Hum, thanks, I...a glass of white wine, just..."

"One bourbon and one white wine coming up!" Anna said chirpily, pouring the drinks.

"What's behind the curtain?" Lisa asked Travis, when they took a seat at a small table at the corner of the room.

"Oh, that!" Travis put the back of his hand over his mouth. "It's...just another section of the club."

"

Section

?" She raised her eyebrow.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "It's just...for people to...we can check it out, if you want. Later."

"Do I want to?" She insisted.

"Maybe you'll like it," Travis nodded enigmatically.

They sat for a while in silence; Lisa, overwhelmed with curiosity, observed the patrons, dressed in only skimpy underwear, or, cut dresses that left nothing to the imagination.

Suddenly, a woman emerged from behind the curtain, stumbling about clearly in exhaustion, yet with a wide, bright smile illumining her face.

Lisa observed her taking a seat in a corner booth—her two female friends instantly leaned forth, seemingly hungry to hear their friend's tale.

Travis was at the counter, chatting with Anna—Lisa watched them for a moment, with warmth in her heart. Then, she decided to give her curiosity a small victory. With a quick gesture, she let Travis know where she was heading; he nodded in approval, with a smirk that made her skin crawl.

As she walked her way through the tightly-packed tables, she felt the gazes of more than a few people upon her; her body was on fire and the more she tried to control her flushing, the more it intensified.

For a moment, she simply stood by the curtain, uncertain of whether she truly wanted, or dared, to walk through it; in the end, though, she did, confident Travis would not have brought her to a potentially dangerous place.

Instantly, she gasped; in front of her stood a tall, black man totally naked. His body was sculptured like a statue, every muscle in his body perfectly visible; and he had a massive hard on, his penis longer and thicker than her whole damn arm!

Lisa observed breathlessly the magnificent specimen of man standing still in front of her, his huge arms crossed in front of his chest; when she realized she was staring at an actual statue, she erupted in soft, self-deprecating laughter.

With no one else around, and the curtain drawn close, she felt confident enough to inspect the tremendously life-like statue, her attention focused mainly on the rod. She touched it, stroked it, with a smile on her face and her heart in her throat.

After the initial shock had settled down, she became more aware of her surroundings; discerning the various moans that rang loudly in the small hallway with the many doors.

On occasion, a loud scream of pure joy would shadow all other sounds; Lisa caught herself getting hot and wet. With her heart beating all too fast in her chest, listening to her heartbeat in her ear like a heavy metal drum solo, she peeked into the half-open doors.

Most rooms were occupied, mainly by couples having sex of various degrees of intensity and roughness on small, squeaking foldout beds.

"Hey there, baby." She turned around, her heart in her throat, when she heard the rusty male voice.

Her jaw dropped, when she noticed the voice's owner; a young man, no older than twenty-three, sitting alone on a bed beating his meat.

"Like what you see, huh?" He chuckled. "Why don't you come closer, huh? Trust me, you'll

love

it," he stood up, still jerking off.

Lisa remained petrified; her eyes glued on the man's prick. Despite her reluctance—and inner rational voice commanding her to rush back to the barroom—she got slightly weak on the knees.

Driven by a lust that had remained buried deep in her soul for too long she took a hesitant step towards the young man, who now leaned on the doorway with a wide smile.

"Well," the man said, when Lisa sat on the bed, "do you want me to close the door? Or..." He winked and sat next to her, leaving the door half open.

Before Lisa could respond, he kissed her; a soft, sensual kiss, not a hungry, sloppy one like she had expected.

He lowered her dress under her breasts, taking her nipples between his fingers, rubbing and twisting lightly. With mind-numbing shivers traversing her spine, she reached for his cock; it was thick and long and she cherished the feeling of the smooth skin in her palm, which she had not felt for quite a long while.

She bit his lower lip and looked into his eyes with a wide smile; she then realized that the young man was no older than twenty-one, and definitely younger than her son! His eyes still contained a boyish glint; it horrified and excited her at the same time.

"Come on," he took a hard grip of her hair and pushed her head down to his tall-standing rod.

With her heart seemingly trying to break free from her ribcage, she kissed the soft, sensitive head; the taste, after so long, overwhelmed her. She opened her mouth wide, when the young man started pushing her head more forcefully down; his prick found its way in her mouth, quickly gliding down her throat.

She gagged on it, taken by surprise; she squirmed, when the man's hand went on her ass, his fingers softly running across her smooth skin, pulling her thong up. He was still holding her down on his meat, forcing her to keep him balls deep in her throat.

It was an enthralling moment, as Lisa found herself longing for the ecstasy of sex; she grabbed the man's balls and squeezed them, tight, but, with a certain gentleness too. Instantly, he loosened his grip on her hair and let her pull up for a breather; then, with more bravado, she went back to sucking him, this time in her own rhythm.

Lisa climbed on the bed, arching her lower back; her dress lifted over her ass, while she stroked the young man with both hands, swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock and bobbing her head.

He rubbed her pussy over her underwear; Lisa squirmed and let out a deep, long moan. She wrapped her lips tighter around his shaft and bobbed her head faster, while using her tongue further to stimulate him; inwardly, she felt some pride for herself, for not having completely forgotten how it's done, despite the years of drought.

"Fuck, you're good," the man groaned. "That's it, baby, take it all in!"

Even his words, cliché and standard as they were, turned her on; he slipped his hand inside her thong and her lower body trembled, when his finger penetrated her.

"You're wet already, you slut," the man chuckled. "And fucking tight!" He thrust his finger harder, then moved it up and down as if calling others over.

"Hey, man—" another male voice was heard and Lisa saw, with the corner of her eye, another man, whose boxers were tented, standing at the door, "—I take it, you won't mind if I join in?"

"Not at all," the young man said. "It's your lucky day, slut," he addressed Lisa, who gasped, when the newcomer dropped his boxers, causing his big cock to jump up.

"Wow," the newcomer said excitedly, "look at that mature ass, man!" He spanked Lisa's ass once; she moaned on the young man's cock, but, did not stop sucking. "Hope you don't mind some minor sword-crossing, man," he said to the other man, then, without waiting for an answer, rubbed his cock on Lisa's cheek.

She lifted her head slightly and both men tried to fit their pricks in her mouth; her lips were widely stretched and her knees had grown all too weak. All her doubts and initial reluctance had been shadowed by the mad desire burning up inside her.

After a while, she began sucking them both in turns, as they caressed her shoulders, back, and breasts, their hands softly exploring every inch of her hot, sweaty body. She looked up into their eyes and was delighted to discern lust and attraction in their glances.

"Time for the main course," the young man climbed on the bed and positioned himself behind her, yanking her thong down around her bent knees.

Lisa stopped sucking and only stroked the other man, who stood up next to the bed, and braced herself; when the young man spat on his palm and rubbed her pussy with his wet fingers, she let out a loud, deep moan...when he penetrated her, the head of his cock stretching her tight pussy out, she couldn't help but scream loudly.

"Don't stop sucking, slut," the other man said and shoved his prick down her throat, holding her head steady with both hands.

"Shit, man," the young man said all too excitedly, "choke her! She's tight, but, when she chokes, she gets even

tighter

! Ah, fuck!"

He buried himself balls deep in her, then commenced to pound her, going hard.

Lisa was overwhelmed by euphoria; her pussy was on fire and every thrust from the young men using her pussy and mouth brought her even closer to a state of ecstasy.