"Max, whatever happens tonight, I want you to pretend like you don't notice it." Angela was cleaning up the dishes after dinner. She had her back turned to her son, who was wiping down the counters.
"What do you mean, Mom?" Max was genuinely curious. He had begun to realize that his mother had quite a kinky imagination, and he was game for anything she would suggest.
"You'll see," she replied. "Or rather, you'll pretend not to see, right?" She turned and gave her handsome son a million-watt smile. He shrugged, smiling.
Gus Johnson had expressed concerns over what was going on in his house. He knew how much he loved the sex. Christ, there was no doubt about that. His wife had never been so sexually voracious since she started playing around with Max. And God knows, Gus had encouraged it. But, still...
That scene last night, where he had fucked his boy's mouth with his cock while his wife had her pussy royally screwed by her son. That was too much. He had been cursing himself all night, and had finally gotten his guts up to express what he thought to Angela that afternoon.
She had been happily recreating the phone call between Max and his new girlfriend Kitty, giving him a "blow-by-blow," as she had put it, winking. Suddenly, he had to interrupt her. There was something too revolting about the whole mess. He was disgusted with himself.
"I thought all of this was going to stop, Angela," he had burst out.
"What do you mean," she had replied, a cautious look replacing her happiness. He had heaved a deep sigh, feeling an awful emptiness in his stomach, that feeling of dread when everything appears to be slipping away from you. He hadn't signed up for this.
"All of this crazy stuff!" He started pacing, not meeting his lovely wife's worried gaze. "I thought we were helping Max out here, not creating a forum for us to live out some twisted fantasy."
"Twisted," she said quietly. "Is that what you think of me?"
"No!" He paused, confused. "Maybe." She stared at him. "I mean, really, Angela, can you call this normal?"
"I thought that we believed that parenting called for extraordinary sacrifices. That we would do anything to ensure our child's happiness."
"Yes, but—"
"Don't you dare interrupt me," she said, her eyes flashing now, warming to her theme. "Yes, you are right that what we are doing isn't 'normal.' But no, you are wrong if you think that our helping Max out is really just a mask for fulfilling our own desires."
"I'm not so sure, Angela." He looked down at his feet, his face red. "Maybe you are as pure as you say. Only you can tell. But I fear my own tendencies..." He trailed off. Angela felt her anger drain away at the sight of his troubled face.
"Don't doubt yourself, honey," she said, more softly, coming next to him. "Don't doubt us. Trust in our abilities as parents. We've done a good job so far, haven't we?"
He looked at her, tears in his eyes. How could he explain how confused he was? How could he tell her how excited it made him to have her sleep with their son?
"Trust me, Gus. Trust ME." She pulled him against her, holding his head against her chest, stroking his hair. Oh, how he wanted to give in.
*****
Saturday was movie night for the Johnson family, a tradition that had gone back many years, ever since the demands of high school and career had caused many a family night to be postponed. Over time, it had become habit for Angela and Gus to sit together on the couch, while Max sat on the floor at their feet. It was easiest for everyone to have access to the big bowl of popcorn Angela always made.
Angela took a deep breath before entering the living room. She had to do this just right, or Gus would make trouble. She looked herself over, the long bathrobe she was used to wearing, the soft slippers. She looked the picture of suburban motherhood. Of course, underneath, well, that was the point, wasn't it? What was underneath. She was only beginning to understand in the last couple of days just what was underneath.
She picked up the big bowl and entered the living room. Gus looked at her and heaved a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, back to normal. Back to what he was used to. But he felt a little pang of sadness for what he was giving up at the same time. Max, for his part, just smiled at his mother.
She settled next to her husband, giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. Max sat at her feet as he usually did, reaching up over his shoulder for the occasional handful of popcorn. Gus cued up the movie with the remote control and got comfortable next to his wife. His normal wife, his normal son. His normal family. This is what he wanted, he was almost sure of it.
Angela was paying no attention to the movie. She was too engrossed in her own little drama. Her pussy already felt warm and wet, her nipples hard. In fact, she felt hot all over, and she loosened the tie on her bathrobe, pulling the upper part open to let air in around her shoulders.
Gus watched the movie, oblivious to the little squirming movements Angela was making next to him. But Max felt hyperaware, knowing that his mother was up to something behind him. Every move she made was registered in his brain. But he kept his attention forward, as he had promised his mother.
Angela let the slippers fall from her feet. Her toenails were painted a bright red, and she let them dangle right next to Max. Her bathrobe fell open around her legs, their long smooth shapes in his peripheral vision. She felt wanton, unhinged. She wanted her family to see her in all her sexuality. She wished there were people watching her perform, an audience to see her depravity.
The robe fell off of one shoulder, showing a thin black strap going down towards her breasts. She wondered how far she would get before Gus would notice. She hoped a little further, yet. She had to set the scene perfectly in order to entrap him. She sat still for a few moments, then carefully let the belt of the bathrobe loose. The robe now draped over her, only covering her middle from just above her breasts to just below her crotch.
With great care, she extracted her right arm from the sleeve of the robe, then the left. She leaned into her husband, laying an arm around his shoulders, her head on his chest. He absentmindedly kissed the top of her head. Angela looked down at his lap. He was wearing his usual pajama bottoms, which had a button flap in the front. She pictured what lay underneath, the dormant snake that had been her sole sexual joy for so many years.
She put her free hand on his stomach and gently caressed him, lovingly and lightly circling over his abdomen. Still so hard and manly, no incipient belly, no giving way to gut. She was feeling so hot, so needy. She wanted to hold his erection in her hand, to feel his desire.
Max could hear the rustling behind him, his imagination trying to fill in the details. What was going back there? And why was it so important that he pretend not to know what was going on?
