Surreptitious Delights

I flew into Atlanta a day early to scope out the new potential client for my firm: Addison & Lockheed, Financial Consultants. The potential client was Jedidiah Stoudamire IV, old money, and lots of it. He had recently inherited from his father when III passed away, and he was the one client everyone was lining up to reign in. Our approach was simple: Meet with the potential client. While everyone else was using skype or skype-like software, such as Go To Meeting, we believed in face-to-face interaction, and our clients seemed to approve.

The best way to get the skinny on any individual is to go straight to the source, which, in the world of big business, is the secretarial pool, and that is what I did. After waving a few Benjamins in Collette's face, I knew everything from Jedidiah's favorite sandwich meat to his preference in underwear. It was Cajun Roast Beef and Hanes, respectively, by the way. I was able to get more pertinent info as well, info that I could use upon meeting with him tomorrow. I called up my old buddy, former Atlanta Braves pitcher Tom Glavine, to see if he was free tomorrow. He assured me he would be.

I went back to my hotel room and decided that I was horny enough that I wanted sex as opposed to whacking it like I'd been doing since my girlfriend left me a month ago. I should have tried to hook up with Collette. Oh, well. This wasn't my first trip to Atlanta. In fact, I had grown up just 35 miles away, in Loganville. I would be going there tomorrow to spend the weekend with Mom before flying back to New York on Sunday. That was tomorrow, though, and this was tonight, and tonight I was horny, so I decided to use my

per diem

to buy myself a little action.

I looked through the yellow pages and found an escort service, then went online to check the reviews. A lot of five-star ratings from customers, so it must have been good. Knowing exactly what I wanted, I decided to call.

"Surreptitious Delights," a honey-voiced woman greeted me. "How may I assist you?"

"I'm going to make this real simple for you," I told her. "I am not a cop. I want a woman, someone with whom I can have sex this evening."

"Sir, we do not promote sexual activity," she informed me. "Our escorts are—"

"Yeah-yeah-yeah, and I had corn flakes for breakfast," I interrupted. "Look, I'm trying to tell you exactly what I want. I'm not looking to fuck. I want to be made love to. Okay? I want the highest rated woman you have, someone classy, who doesn't mind taking her time to ensure that all my needs are met. I don't care how she looks as long as she's legal, and she must be willing to both give and receive oral. No drugs, no diseases, and she must be clean. Oh, and she has to wear thigh-high stockings and a garter belt. That's a must."

Silence, then, "I think I have just who you need. Our escort service fee is two hundred dollars, and she charges five hundred per hour."

"Five hundred?" I almost shouted.

"You asked for the best, sir, and she is the highest rated escort we have. Believe me when I say it will be money well spent."

I mulled this over for a few seconds, then said, "Okay, put me down for two hours."

"Excellent, sir. I just need your credit card information, please." I gave it and my hotel info to her, and once finished, she said, "Okay, your escort's name is Marlena and she should arrive at your destination by nine p.m."

"Nine?" I asked as I checked the time. It was six-thirty.

"Our escorts work on a per customer basis. She will need time to bathe and make herself presentable. I'm sure you can appreciate that, sir."

"Oh, yes. Of course," I said, "and tell her the door will be unlocked and she can enter upon her arrival."

"Very well, sir, and thank you for choosing Surreptitious Delights."

I ordered room service and ate a light dinner as I didn't want to be weighed down with sex looming on the horizon. I caught some scores on ESPN, and at eight-fifty I unlocked the door, then went to get a shower. I was all for her being presentable, but I didn't want to have to go through the motions of getting undressed when I could just pull a towel from around my waist and be ready to go.

I exited the shower, wrapped a towel around my waist, then grabbed another and began drying my hair as I entered the bedroom. Through a small opening in the towel, I could see a shapely leg clad in a white stocking hanging off the bed. I slowly followed it up to find the other leg was on the bed. "Sorry for my appearance, but I didn't expect you to be on time," I lied.

"It's quite alright," she assured me in a rather sultry voice. "I'm here, you're here, and that's all that matters, right?" She stood as she said, "Now let's have a peek at who's under that towel." She removed it and immediately said, "Simon?!?"

"Mom?!?" I exclaimed just as quickly.

"Oh, dear Lord," she said as she fell to the bed.

I just continued to stare, and somehow found voice enough to ask, "Mom? Wh-What's going on? What's the meaning of this?"

"Oh, dear Lord," she repeated. "What are the odds of this happening?" She wasn't crying, as I'm sure I would have been if I were in her shoes.

I just looked at her, at her long, blonde hair flowing down onto her white bustier, at her tiny waist, the white thong that proudly showed off her perfect ass, at her slim legs clad in the white thigh-highs. I had to admit that she was a remarkable-looking woman, but I also had to remind myself that she was my mother, regardless of how sexually attracted to her I was at this moment, as was evinced by the growing rigidity of my penis. "Mom, what's going on?" I asked again. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked as she turned to face me.

"Well, yeah," I responded. "What I mean is, why?"

"Oh, Simon. Where do I even begin?"

I took her hands into mine and said, "Just start at the beginning, Mom. I won't judge you. I promise."

This seemed to give her the courage she needed. "When your father died, we were in a financial cesspool. He had made some bad investments and we lost almost everything."

I was thirteen when my dad passed away. That was ten years ago. I couldn't remember a day that I ever went wanting for anything, though, which prompted me to say, "Mom, how can you say we almost lost everything? I distinctly remember anytime I asked you for anything, you gave it unquestioningly."

"And why wouldn't I?" she asked. "I wanted to protect you from the reality that was going on around you. You never knew want nor need. I ensured that, even while the car was in danger of being repossessed and the house was in danger of foreclosure."

"They were?" I asked, astonished.

"The car, about four times, and the house, about six," she told me. "I went to the bank to ask Mr. Spence for more time, and, of course, he made me have sex with him to grant me the extensions I needed."

"That bastard!"

"He died of a heart attack a few months back," Mom informed me. "As far as I'm concerned, it was just desserts. Anyway, Lydia Cromwell, who lives a few houses down from us?" I nodded my acknowledgement. "She seemed to know what was going on with me, and she told me about Surreptitious Delights. She said she used them whenever her husband went on deployment. She told me they were reputable yet discrete, and I could charge whatever amount I felt my time and body were worth. I immediately started charging five hundred per hour, and the mentality most businessmen have is that the highest paid must be the best, so they were willing to pay. I paid off the car note in under a year and saved the house from foreclosure. In fact, in six months, I should have the house paid off a full twelve years in advance with no fees for early pay-off."

"I don't know what to say."

"Please don't think ill of me, Simon. It's not always about sex." I just looked at her. "Really. I'd say, in all honesty, it's about fifty-fifty. Sometimes it's just a guy—or woman—who wants sex and nothing more, and at others it's just about companionship, like enjoying a nice dinner, or going to the theatre."

"You ... escort women as well?" I asked in disbelief.

"I do." Silence, then, "So, what are we to do about this situation?" I said nothing as I was still trying to process all this, and by 'all this' I meant not only what she did, but the fact that a part of me wanted to have sex with her. When I said nothing, she offered, "Well, I could call the service and tell them to send another woman in my place." She seemed to think that over. "But you said you wanted the best, you paid for the best, and I'm the best. I know. I could have them send over

two

women. How does that sound?" but before I could answer, she asked, "What would Buffy say if she knew you were doing this?"

"She broke up with me about a month ago," I told her. "She said I was too career-oriented, and I guess she's right. I've been masturbating ever since, but tonight I just wanted to be made love to, you know? I just wanted someone to make me feel special."

"Oh, Simon," Mom said as she took my head in her arms and cradled me to her bosom. She held me there in complete silence for all of thirty seconds, then said, "You know, there is one other option for us."

"What?" I asked.

She raised my head so our eyes met, then said, "Just for tonight, we could forget that we are mother and son."

"Oh, Mom. Don't you realize how wrong that would be?"

"I-I suppose you're right. I just thought—"

I interrupted her by saying, "It would be wrong of you to give me a taste of paradise and then deny it to me forevermore."

She studied me hard, then said, "What are you saying, Simon?"

"What I'm saying, Mom, is that if you and I were to make love tonight, then I would want nothing more than to make love to you for the rest of my life."

She smiled, then stood and removed her bustier and thong. I reached for the light switch, but she said, "Leave it on." She crawled back onto the bed and removed my towel, then took my swollen cock into her hand and began to slowly pump it. I lay my head back with a smile of anticipation on my face and cried out loudly as I felt her take me into her mouth.

Oh, she went slowly and sweetly on it, seeming to revel in it as much as I, and after a few minutes, she repositioned herself to where she was almost in a sixty-nine with me. I reached out and began to rub her cum-drenched clit, and she moaned as I did. She stayed there a few moments longer, then threw her leg over my head, fully committing to my favorite position.

I bypassed her clit initially so that I could lick the cum from her sweet pussy. It was awesome, considering that she still had not deviated from her slow, loving caresses of her lips around my cock. I finally moved to her clit and began to gingerly nibble at it, and it were as if someone had begun pouring maple syrup from her as her cum flowed freely and uninhibitedly.

I don't know how long we stayed that way, but I had been fighting off my ejaculation for a short while. I couldn't stand it any longer, though, and screamed out, "Oh, God, Mom! Here it comes!" I then thrust my cock upwards as she moved down on it, and I felt each of the six huge spurts leave me and enter her mouth, then I felt her jaws and throat working in tandem to swallow every drop. "Oh, damn!" I exclaimed as my body continued to spasm, and finally I fell limp upon the bed.

Mom continued to suck me softly for a few more minutes, then turned around and moved face-to-face. We just stared at one another, then our eyes seemed to close at the same time as we began to kiss. She looped her arms around my neck as I wrapped her waist in mine, and she slid her hips around until I entered her. "Oh, Mom," I whispered breathily.

"You feel so good inside of me," she whispered back. "I understand what you mean now. We couldn't deny ourselves this once we've done it." She began kissing me again, and truly made love to me as no other woman ever had, to the point that five minutes later I was cumming inside of her. Her lips had never left mine, and even after that orgasm we continued to kiss as she continued to make love to me.

She then repositioned her hips once more, and I felt myself entering her anus. "Oh, Mom. I never dared dream ..."

"Shhhh, just enjoy it," she told me, then her lips once again met mine, and we kissed like the lovers we had become as I made love to my mother's beautiful ass. It was tight, but it accommodated my penis nicely. Fifteen minutes later and I had achieved my third orgasm of the night. She kept me inside her as long as I remained hard, but eventually I softened and plopped out of my own accord. At that point she removed her lips from mine and asked, "How was that?"

"You made me fall in love with you," was my only response.

She laughed, gave me a quick peck on the lips, then rolled off me and onto my shoulder. "I'll give you your money back, considering ... Well, you know."

"Keep it," I told her. "Tonight, I was a client, and you earned every bit of it. Tomorrow, however ..."

"Tomorrow, and every time after, I will relish making love to my son."

"Thanks, Mom. Me, too."

And we did. Oh, sure, I had girlfriends here and there, and Mom continued to work through the service, but whenever I was in town, it was just she and I and no one else. This began in 2007, and we're still going strong today.