Our Moms thought they were ever so clever. They had weekly lunches to gossip about our love affairs, and that's what it was - love affairs - and to talk about which Mothers and Sons they would try to bring into the group. And let's be honest here. The group was Sons and Moms who were fucking each other. I don't know if they were trying to hide their weekly lunch get-togethers from us, but they didn't talk about them much with us. When I was brought into the group there was a general understanding that what we were doing, or in my case, wanting to do, was something that had to remain an absolute secret. Oh, sure, we each knew what was going on with the others, but we were bound to secrecy among us. It was like a "Mutual Assured Destruction" pact. If anyone had talked out of school we all would be ruined, so no one talked out of school. Besides, it's not something that comes up in conversation that often. "Oh, say. I'm fucking my Mother. It's pretty great." Yeah, that's just not something you should say as a conversation starter. If there's a lull in a conversation, better to talk about the weather, or sports, or anything, except that you're in a sexual relationship with your Mom.
I was brought into the group by my buddy, Matt. His Mom, Susan, and my Mom, Anne, were close friends and, as a result, Matt and I were friends. Matt knew I had a thing for his Mom. Who wouldn't? She was one of those redheads who just takes your breath away. In my experience, redheads are either stone beautiful, or plug ugly, with no in-between. Susan was one of the stone beautiful ones. Matt had a thing for my Mom, too. If you look up "Soccer Mom" on Wikipedia, you might find a photo of my Mom, she's so stereotypical. She's a tall brunette who's going to gray naturally and although she's putting on some weight as she gets older, I think it's pretty well-distributed.
I can remember the first time Matt and I talked about our Moms. Our families were having a pool party at our house. After the hamburgers, Susan and Mom went into Mom's bedroom to change into their swimming suits. Matt and I, without having talked about it, lurked in the den so we could see them when they came out. We didn't say what we were doing, it was just by mutual understanding. This was several years ago and we were horny teen-agers, so anything could turn us on. Both Mom and Susan wore modest middle-aged style swimming suits when they came out of the bedroom, and they were giggling at something. Mom had on a one-piece, and Susan had a two-piece suit. Matt and I sat there with our mouths open. Susan stopped and looked at us, and said something like, "Close your mouths, boys. It's just your old Moms," and then they walked outside, still giggling.
I said to Matt, "God, your Mom is hot."
"Yeah, so is yours, Ryan. Her butt is something dreams are made of."
And that's how it started. From that moment, it seems like, our conversations about our Moms became more graphic each time. We tried to come up with plans for how we could seduce them, as if a teen-aged boy could ever seduce an older Mom of his friend. Whether it was possible or not, though, we would get so turned on by our talks that we couldn't stand it. Looking back, it was funny. We'd talk about them and then, one by one, we'd have a sudden urge to use the bathroom. We never talked about what we were doing in the bathroom, but for my part I know I must have flushed a few billion sperm down the toilet.
I'll admit it, I always wanted to fuck my Mom. It didn't matter what she was wearing around the house, to me she was always beautiful and sexy. There was one time, and maybe this is how we changed our focus to our own Moms, when I saw Mom in her panties and a tee shirt. She had run to the kitchen in the morning to start the coffee for her and Dad, and I was already up and getting ready for school. Matt was right. Mom had an ass to kill for. I couldn't wait to tell Matt about it.
"You won't believe what I saw this morning. I caught Mom in the kitchen, and she just had on panties and a tee shirt. You're right about her butt."
"Whoa. Could you see it? What were the panties like?"
"Just regular panties, but they were almost see-thru, and I could see her butt, I think. She didn't have a bra on, either, and her nipples were standing out."
Matt was entranced. "God, Ryan. I'd love to get my hand on her butt. You think she'd let me?"
"If anybody's hand is going to be on that butt, it's going to be mine. You've got Susan. Your hands should be on that red-haired butt."
Matt moaned. "I know, I know. You don't think I've thought about it?"
Normal teen-aged conversation, right? From that moment, though, we had acknowledged we wanted to fuck our own Moms. Oh, I'd still talk about Susan and Matt would still talk about Mom, but there was a tacit understanding that what we really wanted was our own Moms.
When we went away to college, we'd still get together with the old gang on breaks. We were careful not to talk about our Mothers in front of the other guys, but when Matt and I would be alone, you could be sure that topic would come up. As we got older, both of us were a little guilty that we still harbored those desires. I mean, at some point you're supposed to grow beyond that, right? But we didn't. I know I didn't. My desire to get Mom in bed festered like a boil. There were times when I was consumed by it, and there were times when it was in my mental background, but it was always there.
Usually, the times when it would come to the forefront was when I was in my dorm room alone and jacking off. Sure, there was the occasional coed who would occupy my fantasies, but Mom was always in there somewhere. That girl in my calculus class might start my jerk-off fantasy, but somehow it was always Mom who finished it. I can't tell you the number of times I would call home, late at night, with my dick in my hand. I'd talk to Mom, slowly jerking off, and that made it even hotter. She had no idea I had my dick in my hand while I was talking to her.
After graduating and getting a job, I guess I matured a bit. I still wanted Mom, but it was like a pot on the back burner. It was always simmering, but didn't come to a boil anymore. I guess I realized some things are unobtainable and have to remain in the realm of dreams. Yes, I still dreamed about Mom occasionally, but that's all it was - a dream.
All this is to give you background for what happened a couple of months ago. I was home for vacation, and Matt called me one afternoon. "Hey, Ryan. A bunch of us are going to O'Malleys to watch the basketball game. You wanna come and hang out with us?"
O'Malleys was our local watering hole. From the time we could drink legally, that's where we'd hang out. We thought it made us grown up, having our own bar. It was a great place. They had separate rooms with big screen TVs, so each group could watch what they wanted.
"Sure. Who's going to be there?"
"Probably Jim, Bill, Chris, and Sammy. Maybe Andy will be there. You remember him? Point guard, a couple of years ahead of us?"
"Yeah. What time? Game starts at three, I think."
"Three will be good, or maybe a little before that. See you there."
I got tied up in traffic and the game had already started when I got there. I went from room to room, and finally found our group. The rooms were great. They were set up like dens, with couches and easy chairs, and the guys were settled in with their beers. Somebody had smuggled in a couple of bags of Doritos that were being passed around.
"There he is. I told you he'd come," said Matt. All the other guys raised their beers to me. Matt already had one waiting for me, so I toasted them in return and sat in an easy chair next to Matt. We were already down ten points and it looked like another blowout in progress, so there wasn't a lot of interest in the game. We were talking in small groups, and Matt, Jim, and I caught up on what we had been doing. It was kind of poignant. When we were all younger, we had some hell-raising times at O'Malleys. Now we were in danger of becoming our fathers, talking about grass sod and such. At least we weren't to the point where each of us would describe the route he took to get there, with arguments about which route was better.
Matt leaned over to me. "So how is the beautiful Anne doing?"
"She's fine. She's started yoga classes, so we're constantly bombarded with the joys and benefits of yoga. She seems to like it, so I guess it's okay."
"She still hot?"
That kind of took me by surprise. Matt and I had discussed our Moms in intimate detail, but only between the two of us. Now Matt was talking about her in front of Jim. I didn't want to seem like a pervert, so I tried to deflect him. "Oh, she's the same. She's letting her hair gray naturally, and I think it looks good on her."
Matt took the hint, and we talked about something else. As the beer flowed, the conversations got more raucous. In a lull in our conversation I heard someone say, "She gives the best blowjob I've ever had. I guess because it's her, maybe, but it still takes my breath away." My ears perked up. Who doesn't like hearing about a good blowjob? I couldn't tell who had said it and when I looked back at Matt, he was smiling.
"Wonder who they're talking about?," he said.
"Dunno, but I'd like to get in on it. I'm in a dry spell."
Jim had gone for another beer so Matt leaned over and whispered, "You ever make any progress with Anne? Don't try to tell me you don't still want that."
I blushed, I guess, because I did still want that. Couldn't have it, of course, but I still wanted it. "Some things you want, you just can't have. I guess understanding that is part of growing up. To answer your question, though, yeah. She's still hot. Maybe hotter than she was."
"Same with me, bro," Matt said. "Mom is still the hottest redhead I've ever seen."
Laughing, I said to him, "So you tapping that?" I expected the same kind of answer I had given him. You can imagine my shock when he answered.
"Yep."
