The following story is true, I've changed the names in order to protect my privacy, but the rest of the story is as close the exactly what happened as I can remember. If you are offended by pornography, erotic literature, or incestuous relationships, please stop reading now, if not, enjoy the story, and let me know what you thought, especially if you've ever experienced anything similar. You can contact me at the link above.
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It all started innocently enough, just an honest open discussion between my son Mark, and myself concerning drugs. I honestly confessed that in my younger days I used to smoke a lot of weed. I just simply said, "Mark, I'm not going to lie about it. I used to smoke quite a bit of weed with your father when we were teenagers. Then when I got pregnant with you, I simply stopped and haven't touched it since. Since I was being honest, he promised to be as well. "Mom" he said, "I'm not going to try and pull your leg. I smoke pot. Not every day mind you, but I like it and I smoke it."
Well, there you have it, that's the moment this story really started. Nothing happened at that point that 's worth boring you with, but that's the moment it all started. When I look back I can honestly say that maybe it's one time that the truth really did get me in trouble. That is if you consider what I'm about to tell you to be trouble. You'll just have to decide for yourself on that one.
Before I go much further, I better take just a moment and tell you who I am. My name is Lisa and I'm 39. Mark's father and I divorced a little over ten years ago. I remarried two years after that but as fate would have it, my second husband, Bill, was killed in a traffic accident a year after we married. At least he left me a comfortable house and a nice nest egg. I'm not rich mind you, but I don't hurt for money either. I do my best to stay in shape and, well I look pretty good for my age even if I have to say so myself. I don't have a steady boyfriend and haven't for a while, but that's by choice. After Bill died I just kind of decided I didn't need any more heartache in my life, at least not right away.
Now let me tell you about Mark. He turned eighteen a couple of months before this all happened and had just graduated from high school. He's a good kid, has always stayed out of trouble, helps me out around the house, and for the most part has always gotten good grades. He's a very good-looking young man, rugged yet not sloppy. Played high school football so he's in great shape. Was quite good actually but didn't get a scholarship, blew out his knee in the next to last game of his senior season. I've always been quite proud of him and always will be.
Ok, now back to my tale. Where was I? Oh yes, we had that conversation about drugs, and for any of you in my age bracket I think you'll understand. I was quite relieved to find out he smokes some weed but doesn't do anything else. For those of you not from my era, let me just explain that smoking weed was pretty much always considered to be about the same as drinking, only nicer in my book. I was very relieved to know he wasn't doing crack, coke, meth, or any of the other various hard drugs he could have been doing.
He actually seemed very surprised to find out that both his father and I used to smoke. I guess any kid his age would be. They picture us all as prudish and inexperienced. If they only really knew the truth almost all of our kids would be shocked I suppose. I didn't even bother explaining to him that his very existence probably began because of smoking weed with his father at a drive in movie theatre. Even when you're being honest and open, some things are better left unsaid.
Mark then hit me with a question that probably should have shocked me, but instead peaked my interest. "I was going to go pick up a bag in a little while mom, think you'd be interesting in trying some?" he asked.
When I look back, I probably should have said no, but it'd been so long since I smoked or even drank for that matter that I couldn't help but think it'd be fun to get stoned and just let my hair down for a change. "I don't know mark" I said, "maybe, well I probably shouldn't." "Oh what the hell, sure, in fact I'll tell you what." I continued, "While you are out getting that, I'll go and get us a pizza and pick up a couple of DVD's."
We then agreed to meet back at the house in a couple of hours and get the evening started. I went to the video store and picked out a couple of movies. Then I went back home and ordered the pizza. While I was waiting for it, I remembered that my first husband had left some boxes at the house that I've never gotten rid of and I wondered. Maybe, just maybe it's in one of the boxes so I went up to the attic to look. It didn't take to awful long to find it. There it was at the bottom of the second box I looked in. Our old bong. Thought I might as well just go ahead and give it to Mark now anyhow, so I took it downstairs with me and got it cleaned up and ready.
Mark got back about a half an hour later and his timing was perfect, the pizza had only been there for about 3 or 4 minutes and was still hot. He took one look at the bong sitting on the coffee table and just had to know where the hell it had come from. I explained about the boxes in the attic and that as far as I was concerned it was now his. He seemed pretty tickled by it.
So know we had food, movies, and pot. The party was about to begin. As I served up pizza he went ahead and cleaned the weed and packed the bong. By the time we were done eating the moment of truth had arrived. Mark lifted the bong to his mouth and fired it up. That old familiar smell filled the room as he passed it to me and for the first time in 18 years I took a hit and it hit me like a ton of bricks.
Mark definitely smoked a lot more of it than I did. I was wasted after just a few hits. After he had finished off the bowl, he set the bong down and got up and popped a movie into the player. As he settled back down onto the couch he looked at me and we both just busted out loud laughing. We were both wasted and we knew it.
He was the first to say anything. "Jesus Mom! You looked completely fried!" and that got us to giggling like school kids. We laughed about nothing for quite awhile. I'm not really even sure how long. Time is a non-entity when you're stoned. After that, we just both kicked back and were pretty quiet for a while.
Mark finally broke the silence and said that we needed to smoke some more. I was hesitant but he was insistent. Next thing I knew he was sitting beside me firing up the bong again. By the time we finished off that bowl, I was messed up. This shit they smoke today is so much more potent than the stuff I remember.
After he put the bong down Mark laid back on the couch. He didn't even scoot over; he just flopped down. I just leaned back against the arm of the sofa. I looked at him and realized I was starring right up his shorts. I really couldn't see anything, but the point is I was starring. I forgot how pot always seems to just make your mind focus on sex, no matter what. I really felt guilty about starring but I have to admit I was really hoping that somehow he would move just right and I'd get a peak.
I'm not sure how long it was, but after what seemed like a very long time I knew I needed to hit the sack. I was just too wasted to function, and to be honest, I was dying to play with my pussy; I'd really gotten horny and could just hear my vibrator calling my name. I told Mark I was going to bed and he protested a little, but I think he knew I was too stoned to do much else.
