Leaving my first orgy, I walked out feeling my insides ready to burst, chest swelling like a full body erection, filled a new sense of power and triumph.
When Mom and I first arrived at Megan's party, greeted by nothing but young, beautiful, half-naked women, all presenting their own unique version of the perfect slut, I figured, at some point, even by accident, my dick would likely end up in someone.
Yet, I never expected to hook up with two gorgeous sisters, beyond slutty, centerfold hot, and also the eldest daughters of my British-born, deviant therapist, a statuesque, brown-haired beauty in her own right, blessed with remarkable genes.
Somehow, in one night, I'd thoroughly cum-drenched five different women, white, black, and Latina, all left shuddering in my wake, including my mother, who outclassed all rivals in looks, body, fashion sense, and her willingness to try almost anything, making her the hottest mature single mother to ever wear pantyhose, hands down.
Reaching the car, after drunkenly stumbling through the field, she slurred telling me I needed to drive, then got in and turned oddly quiet, barely saying a word, with no explanation for her random and disturbingly sudden change of mood.
No longer feeling like a conquering hero, her clipped answers led me to question how genuinely proud and content she'd seemed when we left.
Frustrated, curious, stricken by insecurity, the longer I drove, the more time it gave Mom to sober up, as I mildly attempted to break the silence, cautiously testing her mood.
"So I guess the cat's out of the bag."
As I waited for an answer, I lit up a cigarette and watched from the corner of my eye. With a deep breath, she answered softly, head sunken to her chest.
"Guess so." Her head barely moved, nodding just slightly. "To be honest, at first, I was kind of hurt that I had to find out from her. But considering all that's happened lately, it's really not worth getting angry about."
Turning my head, I squinted back, no longer watching the road. I could understand her being worried or nervous, but definitely no more than that.
"Angry," my voice went up, "what for?"
Clearly, it pained her to say the words out loud, sighing heavily again.
"I heard what Megan said earlier. I know you fucked her without telling me. But it's okay. Like I said, I was hurt for a moment. I'm fine now."
I knew she was lying. Once again, I also realized I'd fucked up, wondering how many chances I had left.
"Oh, um, yeah," I stumbled, lifting the cigarette between my shaky fingers, taking an extra long drag. "Probably should have told you about that." I cracked the window, blowing out the smoke. "The day I went to her office something did sort of happen. Not what you think. We didn't have sex. I swear."
Mom sucked her teeth. "Who are you, Bill Clinton? She tasted your cum. That doesn't happen without sex."
"Well, yeah, I know that," I answered, struggling to explain. "But you've met her. You know what she's like. She pretended she was you. She made me jerk off. It was all part of the therapy."
"Oh, I see," Mom said, shaking her head. "So she was just helping you get closure, is that it? Including the part where she was like 'Okay, now I think it'd be really beneficial for you to jerk off and cum in my mouth.' You honestly expect me to believe that?"
"Mom, please," I replied, sighing as well. "It's not like I went there knowing what would happen. And I can't explain her reasons any more than you. But I do know we're much closer now thanks to her. Isn't that what matters?"
Mom rolled her eyes. "What matters is whether or not I can trust you," she said. "You know what happened with me and your father. I won't go through that again."
As soon as she mentioned my father, my tone softened right away.
"You're right," I said, nodding my head. "I know how badly he hurt you. That's the last thing I want to do."
Halfway home, after riding quietly for another minute or so, I went back and gently broached my original concern.
"So what about Joel and Cynthia?"
"I don't know." Mom shrugged. "What about them?"
"Well, they must know what's going on now. What do we do about that?"
"Hmm," Mom sniffed. "Unless they make it an issue, I don't see why we have to do anything."
"Oh," I said, pressing my lips. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, I can't figure out the whole auction thing. I mean, how did she know those girls? She must have some secrets too."
"Exactly," Mom said. "So the best thing to do is wait it out...see if she brings it up. Otherwise, what we do is none of her business."
It was almost midnight by the time we pulled up to the house. Walking through the door, I turned back and caught Mom reaching in her purse. At first, it appeared she was just putting away her scarf. Then I caught her smiling, turning my stomach, as she slid off to the dining room, cheerfully answering her cell.
Like a paranoid father, spying from the hallway, I fumed thinking who could be calling so late.
"Hey, handsome!" she said, turning my way, pausing to cover the mouthpiece. "It's Doug, sweetie. Go hop in the shower. I'll be up in a minute."
Steaming with jealousy, I bristled at the sight of Mom waving me off, standing there, all smiles, one hip pressed against the dining table, as I watchfully stood guard, admiring her costume: red boots, red gloves, legs gilded in suntan pantyhose, along with the same skintight, glossy, red leotard, dating back 18 years, to the countless hours she'd spent training her body to vault, tumble, and balance on a four-inch beam, molding her soft, formless, teenage figure, shaping it into a work of art.
Presumptuous though it might have been, after hours of fucking, hearing Mom beg for my cock, filling her pussy with cum, in my mind, my rightful inheritance had been firmly cemented. Yet, her wagging fingers shooing me off struck like a punch in the gut; making me summon all of my will to quietly turn and walk away.
Ten minutes passed, as I stood in the shower, rinsing off sweat, pussy juice and dried semen. Feeling slighted, I resigned myself that Mom wasn't planning to join to me, as I stepped out, grabbed a towel, and heard the footfalls of Mom's boots noisily clomping up the stairs.
Leaving the bathroom, head low, towel around my waist, I turned left, slogging toward my room, spinning toward the sound of her voice.
With a pleasant smile, she waved me over, standing outside her bedroom door, as if either she hadn't noticed, or worse, didn't care if I was passed.
After hearing Doug's name, I'd initially pictured myself rushing over to strangle her just like Jasmine. Still, as hurt as I was, I reluctantly stepped forward, drawn toward her outstretched hand, as she stepped back, leading me in, soothed by her delicate touch.
Standing there, face to face, warmed by the sound of her voice, I gradually started forgetting what had gotten me so angry in the first place.
"Sorry I took so long," she said, lips full, begging to be kissed.
Ever the good son, I smiled back, shrugging it off.