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Subject: {ASSM} REPOST: "Alternatives" by Downing Street (MF MC INC)
Date: Fri, 29 Sep 2000 10:10:03 -0400
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DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction and any resemblance
between characters in this work and actual persons living or dead
is entirely coincidental. This work contains scenes of explicit
sex between adults and is intended for the entertainment of adults
only. If you are offended by depictions of adult intercourse or if
you are less than the age of majority in your jurisdiction please
do not read or download this file. Because this is a fantasy,
characters in this work engage in unprotected sex in a universe
where AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases do not exist.
In reality sex without protection is unwise and nothing in this
work should be taken as condoning such activity, or any of the
other activities depicted herein.
SYNOPSIS: After Joe is kicked out of his parents' house, he meets a
nameless spirit that offers him erotic alternatives to his present
stormy relationship with his mother. MF MC INC
Originally posted 1998.
Comments? Send them to: dowstreet@yahoo.com
ALTERNATIVES
by Downing Street
Warm sun filtered through the pine trees, casting a dappled,
pleasing shade on the dark green of the lawn. Ah, this is the
life, Joe reflected as he stretched out on his beach-towel. No
more college, no more assignments, no more hassles; just sweet,
idle summer, warm and endless. He checked his watch: it was 1:33.
The whole afternoon was spread out before him. Joe plumped up his
pillow and lay back, letting the June sun warm his bare chest. He
was dressed for the day in loose summer shorts and sneakers.
Sunlight sparkled off the water in the cracked backyard pool.
Joe chuckled. The pool, his father's pride and joy. The car might
be rusty and the house might need paint, but the little pool was
always clean as a whistle. He put on his sunglasses and idly
surveyed the small yard. His mother's spindly rosebushes grew in
a line along the fence, carefully tended. His mom did what she
could with them, but they were too shaded by the big pine trees to
produce many flowers.
Joe heard the bang of the screen door slamming and his heart sank.
A moment later an angry female voice cut through the heavy
stillness. "Ah, there you are! I might have known I'd find you
out here, lying about doing nothing."
Joe looked up to see his mother walking toward him, a glass of ice
tea in one hand. She made her way through the uncut grass toward
him, and Joe cursed quietly. Hassle time. "Joe, for god's sake,
you can't just spend the whole summer lying around the pool. If
you want to go back to school in the fall you had better get out
there and find a summer job. Tuition costs money, you know."
Joe looked up at her. "Mom, please, knock it off. I just got
here." He studied her from behind his glasses. His mother was
wearing unflattering plaid shorts over a white swimsuit with white
tennis shoes on her feet. Her light brown hair was pinned up to
keep cool. What a bitch, he thought grimly.
There was no doubt that Joe's mother was a good-looking woman,
though. A beauty queen in her teens, Miss State Fair or something
like that, three years running. Joe was her only child and she had
kept herself in shape over the years. Dress her up a little, Joe
reflected, and she could be a real fox. He laughed privately. A
bitch and a fox. Wouldn't that make her, let's see...a vixen!
Isn't that what they called a female fox? And Mom said he hadn't
learned anything in college.
He tuned her back in again. "....insist on lazing about instead of
getting a job you could at least raise a finger to help out around
the house. You could start by mowing the lawn; it hasn't been cut
in weeks! Then get to work on these dandelions."
Resignedly, Joe got to his feet. "OK, OK, Mom don't have a
coronary, I'll mow the damned lawn."
"And don't you ever swear at me again, young man. I am your
mother, not one of your tramp girlfriends and when you are in my
house you keep a civil tongue in your head!"
"All right, all right, I'm sorry already." Joe reached down to
retrieve his shirt. He knocked over the can of beer underneath it.
"Shit." he muttered under his breath. He tried to hide the beer
can beneath the towel but it was too late.
"Now stealing beer again too! I warned you about that enough times
already. That beer is for your father and you keep your hands off
it! You are very close to finding yourself unwelcome around here
Joe!"
Joe felt his temperature rising. "For chrisakes mom, I'm old
enough to drink beer! It's legal! What's the big scandal already!
You don't have to have a cow over it. Dad drinks beer every day,
why the hell can't I?"
His mother's face was red with anger. "You can't because I say you
can't," she retorted, her voice growing louder. "You're still my
son and I'm not going to have you lying around drinking all summer
long like a common layabout. And I told you to cut out the
swearing!"
It was then that Joe's temper got the better of him. "Look, you
uptight bitch, just stop telling me what to do all the time. I'll
bloody well swear if -- OW!" His mother slapped him. Hard, across
the face. Joe stopped in mid-sentence. His mother glared daggers
at him, hands on her hips.
She spoke in a low voice. "Don't you *ever* speak to me like that
again, you understand. Not ever."
Joe just stared at her, speechless. Her oval face was flushed, and
her deep brown eyes shone like hard gemstones. A strand of hair
fell loosely against her cheek. When she slapped Joe one strap
from her bathing suit had slipped off her shoulder. In the midst
of his blood-stirring anger Joe found himself looking straight at
his mother's breast, temptingly half-revealed by the falling cup of
her swimsuit. She was standing right in front of him, less than a
yard away. She was breathing deeply with her anger, and the motion
of her chest made the cup slip down a little bit more with each
inhalation. Her breast was not large but delightfully curved,
standing out plump and proud from her chest. He could see the top
of the aureole, and if the cup were to slip just a little
farther....
Suddenly his mother realized where his gaze was directed. She
found the misplaced strap and hurriedly pulled it back up. "Get
out." she said coldly.
Joe was dazed. "What?"
"Get out of this house. Right now. I don't care where you go or
what you do. Just leave. Now." Her voice was glacial.
It was obviously too late to apologize. Ruefully, Joe picked up
his shirt and put it on. He walked past his mother into the house,
gathered up his wallet from the top of the dresser in his old
bedroom, and walked out the front door. His mother said nothing
more until he was gone.
Joe walked for a long time with his head down, giving no thought to
direction or destination. He wandered downtown streets, ignoring
the swirl of people and traffic all around him and gazing on but
not really seeing the merchandise displayed in shop windows.
Kicked out of the house. Just like that. One moment he was a
happy young college student on summer break, the next he was a
street kid. One fight too many with his ever-combative mother, one
brief, spontaneous indiscretion, and his summer was ruined.
Joe was still thinking these bleak thoughts as his aimless
wandering took him down a little-used side street just off the main
business district. He found himself in front of a tiny shop
selling antiques and collectibles. With nothing better to do, he
went inside. The shop was old and quaint, well-suited to its
product line, and quite filled with junk. The only person in the
store was a small, old, wispy-haired man of indiscernible ancestry,
who smiled a greeting from behind the counter.
Joe wandered the shop as he had the street, not paying much
attention to the things for sale. But one item did catch his eye.
Behind a box of Chinese jade carvings, looking forgotten, he found
a small metal pendant on a leather cord. It was a simple design,
a rough circle with a small arrow mounted in the middle. Joe
picked it up. The pendant was dusty. The arrow was designed to
swing randomly about the circle with every movement.
Joe admired the pendant for a long time. Ordinarily he didn't much
care for jewellery. He pulled out his wallet. Inside he found a
total of $8.23, including small change. He would need that to buy
food.
Joe took the pendant to the front. "How much is this?" he asked
the man behind the counter.
The man examined the pendant briefly. "$9.95 plus tax," he said,
with an accent that was definitely foreign yet impossible to place.
Joe emptied the contents of his wallet onto the counter. "This is
all I have," he said.
The old man shrugged. "Close enough."
An hour or so later, tired of walking, Joe sat on a bench in a city
park, trying to decide what to do next. His relationship with his
mother had always been stormy, to say the least, but he was past
being angry now; he would happily go home and apologize if it would
do any good. He would even mow the lawn. But something in his
mother's expression had made it clear that no apology would be
accepted. He had screwed up one time too many. For the moment at
least, he was homeless. Maybe he could find a friend's house where
he could crash.
"It doesn't have to be this way," said a new voice.
Joe jumped. "Who-- what? Who said that?" He looked around in
vain for the speaker. He was all alone on the bench. Off in the
distance a plump woman was walking her dog.
"You don't have to just accept things the way they are," the voice
said again. It was deep and masculine but smoothly modulated. A
radio announcer's voice. "There are choices, alternatives. I can
help you, if you want."
Joe was still looking everywhere for the source of the voice. He
looked for a hidden microphone, in the grass and under the bench.
He even looked in the tree overhanging the bench, but there was no
one there but a crow, that flew away with a raucous cry. Joe felt
the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. "Who, who are you?" he
asked timidly.
"Names don't matter" said the voice. "I'm someone who can help
you. You're wearing my amulet."
Startled again, Joe grabbed the pewter pendant hanging around his
neck. The arrow swirled about crazily. "You--you're, like, in
there?"
"Not in the sense you're thinking. But the amulet is what allows
us to have this conversation. It's a bridge between your plain of
existence and mine, if you will. You found it because you need my
help."
Joe listened to the placid explanation, marvelling at the re-
assuring calmness of the disembodied voice. It sounded so logical,
so *reasonable*; as if transdimensional conversations were an
everyday thing.
"How do you know I need help?" Joe challenged.
"Through the amulet of course. If I am to help you I need to know
the nature of your distress."
Joe studied the amulet for a long time, trying to fathom the
conversation. The arrow spun this way and that. Was he having
some sort of breakdown? Maybe a delayed reaction to bad drugs? He
hadn't taken anything in months, unless you counted ethanol.
"You are sane and well, Joe," the voice chimed in, though he hadn't
spoken out loud. "Although your reaction is perfectly natural.
Sit down for a moment. Let me show you a way out of your
predicament."
Joe sat down. In a trembling voice he asked: "What can you do?"
"I can change things. I can improve your circumstances. I offer
you alternatives. Choices. This existence is not the only
possibility, Joe. There are many, many others. I can give you the
alternative you want. If you will let me."
Joe said: "What do you mean, alternatives? What kind of
alternatives?"
"Let me show you."
Warm sun filtered through the pine trees, casting a dappled,
pleasing shade on the dark green of the lawn. Ah, this is the
life, Joe reflected as he stretched out on his padded lawn chair.
No more college, no more assignments, no more hassles; just sweet,
idle summer, warm and endless.
He bolted upright. He was in his parents' back yard again. He
looked around himself, disoriented. It was definitely his folks'
house. The pool, the pine trees, his mother's row of rose bushes,
they were all there. He looked at his watch. It read 1:33. He
looked at the sun, high overhead.
I am having one mega-flashback here, Joe decided, fighting down
panic. It must be those blue dreamers, the ones he had taken at
that party. But that had been in January, six months ago. And
this flashback was so real, so detailed. It was like he was really
there.
Searching for reference points, he scrutinized the suburban yard.
Sunlight sparkled off the water in the new backyard pool. His
father's pride and joy. His mother's rosebushes grew in a tall
line along the fence, carefully tended. His mom did her best with
them; despite the light shade from the pine trees, it looked as
though the roses would bloom well again this year. Everything was
exactly the same as it had been earlier that day. Wasn't it?
Joe heard the distinctive sound of the patio door opening, and a
moment later a pleasant female voice floated on the heavy
stillness. "Ah, there you are! I might have known I'd find you
out here, lying about doing nothing."
Joe looked up to see his mother walking toward him, an open bottle
of cold beer in each hand. She made her way across the new-mown
grass toward him, smiling. "Thanks for cutting the lawn, Joe," she
said. "I know I can depend on you to help out with things like
that." She took a long drink from one sweating beer bottle.
Joe looked up at her. "Mom, I didn't --." He faltered. Something
was different. His mother was wearing a white, one-piece swimsuit,
but the bulky plaid shorts were gone. Instead of sneakers she was
wearing white pumps. The white clothing set off her perfect tan,
while the three-inch heels and high cut swimsuit emphasized her
shapely legs and trim buns. Her light brown hair was artfully
pinned up to keep cool. She would have looked good in a newspaper
ad for barbecues.
Joe studied her from behind his glasses. Hey, my mom is quite a
looker, he realized. In this garb it was easy to see how she had
won all those beauty contests. Who could resist that figure? She
was in a better mood too. Less bitch, more fox, he thought wryly.
This was some strange flashback.
"Mind if I join you?" Joe's mother said, dropping into the lounge
chair beside him. "It's too pleasant a day to work." She popped
on a pair of white-rimmed sunglasses and took another pull from her
beer. "Oh, sorry Joe, I brought you one too." She handed him the
other bottle.
Joe was confused. "You don't -- you don't mind?"
"Mind? Why would I mind? You're old enough to drink beer after
all. And you deserve a reward for mowing the lawn."
Joe took the proffered bottle. "Thanks, Mom!" They drank
together.
Joe's mother stretched out on the padded lounge chair and closed
her eyes. "Mmmmm, this is so nice," she murmured. "I could just
lie here all afternoon." She still had her shoes on.
Lying next to her, Joe felt uncomfortably aware of his mother's
nearness. She was lying with one leg bent slightly, and Joe found
his gaze tracing the smooth curves of her calf up past the knee to
the trim, well-tanned thigh disappearing beneath white spandex only
inches away from.... He swallowed hard and turned his thoughts and
his eyes away.
After a moment his mother finished her beer and turned over,
folding her arms beneath her cheek. As she did so one strap from
the sexy swimsuit slipped off her shoulder. Joe turned to say
something, wondering how long this flashback was going to last,
when he found himself looking again at his mother's half-bare
breast.
"Oh shit," he breathed. The falling cup of the swimsuit uncovered
the top half of one darling breast, full and round and tempting.
She was less than three feet away, and Joe drank in the sight. He
just couldn't help himself. Smiling, eyes closed, his mother
stirred slightly, turned a little toward him. The cup slipped
further. Now he could see the aureole and maybe the top of the
nipple, red-brown and puckered. So beautiful. So very near....
"Oh shit," he said again.
His mother opened her eyes. "Something wrong, Joe?" Then her gaze
fell to where Joe was looking. But instead of getting mad, she
giggled. "Oops! Showing a little extra there," she said,
laughing. She pulled the offending strap back into place. "Sorry.
This suit doesn't fit quite right on top. Guess I gave you a bit
of a show there, huh?" Her brown eyes twinkled.
Joe felt his pulse hammering in his temples. He was short of
breath. "Mom, I, I -- I have to leave!" he blurted and jumped to
his feet. "I have to go, uhm, I have to go, like, out." Turning
quickly to hide his erection, he dashed into the house, grabbed his
wallet and bolted out the front door to --
-- find himself sitting on a bench in the park.
"See what I mean?" said the voice.
Joe looked about him. "What happened?"
"It is as I explained. I manipulate reality. I give you choices.
You just have to choose the one you want."
"Back there. My mother." He gestured helplessly. "Did you do
that?"
"I showed you an alternative reality. One in which your mother is
a little more relaxed. Perhaps that is what you want."
"I just want to go home. To stop fighting all the time."
"Are you quite sure?" the voice said conversationally. "Perhaps
you want more than that without realizing it. Perhaps the real
problem is that you are in love with your mother."
"I am not!" Joe proclaimed, angry. "That's ridiculous. That would
be incest! That's sick! I just want to have a normal life. And
besides she's twice my age, and she's a complete bitch. She's a
nagging, complaining, uptight drone. She's a....a...."
"A vixen?"
"Yes!"
"Perhaps you don't realize the strength of your desire," the voice
countered. "Why don't we take another look at earlier this
afternoon. Maybe with your mother a little more relaxed."
"NO! Wait! I don't want you to --"
"-- do that!" he said to the pine trees.
Warm sun filtered through the stately trees, casting a dappled,
pleasing shade on the dark green of the lawn. The June sun warmed
Joe's bare chest; he was lying on a kind of thick outdoor mattress
with a comfortable pillow built in.
Joe sat up and looked around. It was definitely his parents' back
yard again. Sunlight played on the flowerbeds and sparkled off the
big, kidney-shaped pool. The pool, his father's pride and joy.
His mother's hybrid roses grew in neat rows along the fence,
carefully tended. His mom did her best with them, and the bushes
looked set to blossoms lavishly again this year. The sun was high
overhead. He looked at the underwater watch on his wrist: it was
1:33.
Joe heard the distinctive sound of the patio door opening, and a
moment later a sultry female voice floated on the heavy stillness.
"Ah, there you are! I was hoping I'd find you out here, relaxing
for once."
He looked up to see his mother walking toward him, a glass in one
hand and a bottle in the other. "Wow-wow-wow!" he mumbled to
himself. His mother's white swimsuit was gone. In its place she
wore a white bikini, a chic little number with big gold rings on
each hip and another between her breasts. Instead of simple pumps
she was now wearing white platform sandals with impractically high
stacked heels. The sandals had no ankle strap, despite the heels,
forcing Joe's mom to take mincing, hip-wiggling steps, an
inconvenience that didn't seem to trouble her at all.
As she shuffled toward him through the lush, weedless grass, Joe
reflected that she wasn't wearing the bikini to go swimming. That
was obvious from the white necklace and matching white pendant
earrings brushing her shoulders, and the several rings on her
fingers. She was wearing bright lipstick and subtle, artfully
applied make-up that further enhanced her natural beauty. Her long
brown hair was pinned up for summer with a gold barrette that
matched the bikini.
Joe couldn't take his eyes off her. What a fox! It was obvious
how she had won all those beauty contests, and made such a good
living as a model. Who could resist those curves, or those long,
kissable lips?
"Mind if I join you, honey?" Joe's mother said, settling onto the
padded mat beside him. "It's just too pleasant a day to work."
She took a healthy sip from her glass and immediately topped it up
again. "How 'bout a drink?" She held out the bottle.
"No, uhm, thanks Mom," Joe replied, "I uhm, I already have a beer."
He picked up the tall bottle of imported brew beside him.
His mother shrugged. "OK. More for me, I guess," she said
cheerfully. She put down the bottle and rolled over on her side,
propping her head on one elbow. "How about a toast," she said.
"To my handsome son; may he enjoy every day of his summer
holidays."
Joe clinked his bottle against her glass. "Thanks, Mom!" They
drank together.
Joe's mother stretched out on the mat and closed her eyes. "Mmmmm,
this is sooo nice," she murmured. "I could just lie her with you
all afternoon." She sipped her drink, then began to run the glass
down the side of her face, slowly and deliberately. Joe watched as
the glass moved lower, across her neck and down one shoulder. She
made little "mmmmm" sounds as she stroked herself with the cool
glass. She was unconsciously rubbing one leg against the other.
Her pure white sandals had soles two inches high.
By the time his mother began sliding the glass lazily across the
top of her chest, Joe was watching, spellbound. Eyes closed, she
caressed herself with the moist glass, stroking slowly across the
tops of her tits left uncovered by the sexy bikini. Finally she
raised the glass to her lips and drained the remaining liquor.
She caught her son gawking at her. "Be careful, honey," she said
teasingly. "You'll spill your beer." Just in time Joe remembered
the half-full bottle in his hand and jerked it back upright. His
mother giggled and reached over for her bottle again. As she did
so one strap of her bikini top slipped off her shoulder.
Oh please god don't do this to me, Joe thought desperately. Once
again he had a ringside view of his mother's bountiful breast,
spilling saucily out of the too-small cup of her bikini. He licked
his lips, unable to stop himself from staring. Her breast was so
well-shaped, so deliciously orbed, designed and intended to be
fondled and kissed and sucked. Joe groaned as his mother,
oblivious to her disarray, carefully poured herself another
brimming glass of liquor. She reached over to put the bottle down,
presenting Joe with her errant breast in a portfolio of different
angles and positions. He groaned again. She was so achingly
beautiful, and so close beside him he could reach out and touch....
His mother noticed his rapt gaze. "Something wrong, Joe?" she
asked in a teasing voice. Her eyes fell to where Joe was looking.
"Oopsie!" she said, a little tipsy from the drinks. "Sorry, honey;
I guess I've been putting on a bit of a show, huh?" She didn't
sound sorry at all. She pulled the offending strap carelessly back
into place. She sipped her drink and it fell down again.
Lying beside her, Joe was starting to squirm. He tried to think of
a good excuse to leave, but his mother's bare breast held him like
a magnet. He flexed his hips, automatically trying to adjust his
cock to a more comfortable position. Unfortunately his mother
noticed. "Why Joe, honey, what's wrong?" she asked solicitously.
"Is your swimsuit too tight?" She was looking directly at his
crotch.
Joe looked down, and was startled to discover he was not wearing
shorts any more. Instead he wore only a pair of sexy black
swimming trunks, whose tight fabric revealed the exact outline of
his distended cock. The embarrassment he felt at raising a hard-on
from his own mother, and having her notice it, was still not enough
to make the erection go down. "I'm sorry, Mom," he said
contritely. "I can't help it. I didn't mean to, you know..." His
mother's bikini top was still half off and he left the sentence
unfinished.
"Oh, you poor boy," Joe's mother cooed, putting down her drink.
"Look how big you are. Let me just--" she hesitated a moment.
"Maybe I can, ah, help you. OK, honey?" Impulsively she reached
out with one hand and ran the tips of her fingers along the length
of his shaft.
Joe twitched helplessly. "Mom, please, don't!"
"Mmmmm, honey, you're soooo big, soooo hard. Does this feel
better?" She was using her whole hand now.
"Mom, oh god please!"
His mother stroked faster. "So nice," she muttered, "so big and
hard and nice nice nice!"
"Mom! Oh shit Mommmmmm!" Joe cried as she drove him over the top
and he shot his load into his swimsuit.
"There is no point in denying it," the voice said, as unflappable
as ever. "Your mom gives you the hots."
Joe looked around the little park. He was sitting on the bench
again. The wind rustled leaves in the tree. Across the way a man
without a shirt was throwing a frisbee to his dog. Joe took a deep
breath, let it out slowly. "I--, I--, no, wait. That can't be.
That isn't right. You changed her. You changed everything."
"You can have her, Joe. As your lover, your slave, any way you
want. I can give her to you. You just have to let me."
"No, I don't want that!" Joe said vehemently.
"Look inside yourself, Joe. You know the truth. Just choose the
alternative that pleases you. Let me help you."
"I tell you I don't want my mother!" Joe shouted, forgetting for a
moment he was in a public place. "I don't want that at all. No.
That's all wrong. I, I just want to go home."
"I see you are still denying what we both know to be true. Let's
try one more time, shall we?"
Warm sun filtered through the tall pine trees, casting a dappled,
pleasing shade on the dark green of the lawn. The June sun warmed
Joe's bare chest. He looked around his parents' huge backyard
again. Sunlight played on the ornate flowerbeds, caught the water
spraying from the fountain, and sparkled off the Olympic-sized
swimming pool. Ah, the pool, his father's pride and joy. His
mother's beds of hybrid roses grew in neat green rows near the
stone fence, carefully tended. The gardeners did their best with
them; his mother would probably win more prizes this year. The sun
was high overhead. He looked at the gold watch on his wrist: it
was 1:33. The inscription on the back of the watch, he knew, said,
"Love from Mom".
Joe heard the tinkle of the wind chimes over the french doors, and
a moment later a breathy, feminine voice floated on the heavy
stillness. "Oh, there you are, baby! I was hopin' I'd find you."
He looked up to see his mother ambling toward him, a glass in one
hand and a half-empty bottle in the other. His jaw dropped. He
worked his mouth to spout exclamations, but nothing came out. His
mother was wearing a white designer bikini, skimpier than before,
and her platform sandals had been replaced with skintight, shiny,
white boots that ended near the top of her thighs. Joe moaned with
ill-contained lust. He had a major weakness for boots.
As she stumbled toward him through the lush, manicured grass, Joe
drank in her curvaceous form with his eyes. He no longer needed to
worry about a shoulder strap falling down, because this bikini
didn't have any. Instead it had two long strips of white fabric
that half-heartedly covered her abundant breasts, bound together by
a gold ring between them. The ring was decorated with rhinestones,
as were the matching rings on each hip of the bikini bottom. She
wore a stylish white necklace and matching pendant earrings.
Precious stones glittered in the rings on her fingers. She was
wearing bright lipstick and subtle, artfully applied make-up that
further enhanced her natural beauty. Her long brown hair was
pinned up for summer with a white barrette that matched the bikini,
but some of it had slipped out, to fall beguilingly across one
shoulder.
Try as he might, Joe couldn't take his eyes off her. What an
incredible woman! Her every move was a symphony of curves that
seemed to broadcast sexual heat in all directions. In that get-up
it was obvious how she had won all those beauty contests, and been
so wildly popular as a centrefold model in men's magazines. Who
could resist those curves, that face, that air of barely contained
sexuality?
"Min' if I join you, baby?" Joe's mother said, in that same husky
voice. She stood beside the double chaise lounge, swaying
unsteadily in her vamp-heeled boots.
Joe just gawked at her, stupefied. At long last he found his voice
long enough to squeak, "What? Oh, yeah, sure, O-OK."
She settled lazily onto the lounge beside him. "I's jus' too nize
a day t' work." she said, her words slurred. She took a healthy
sip from her glass and immediately topped it up again, spilling
some. "Whoops!" she said, and giggled. She turned over on her
side, close beside her son, and propped herself up on one elbow.
"How 'bout l'il drink?" She held out the bottle.
"No, uhm, thanks Mom," Joe replied, trying without success to avoid
staring at her straining bikini top, "I uhm, I already have a
beer." He picked up the tall bottle of imported brew beside him.
His mother giggled again. "OK baby. More f' me, I guess," she
said cheerfully. She put down the bottle where she could reach it,
and leaned over very close. "Then how 'bout a toast," she husked.
"To my son the hanshome stud; may he *enjoy* *every day* of his
summer holidays." Her whispered voice dripped with double meaning,
and Joe felt his hormone balance go off the scale. To emphasize
her point, his inebriated mother deliberately slid one white-booted
leg across his lap, and began to rub it teasingly back and forth
against his swimsuit. Joe already had a massive hard-on.
"Th,Thanks, Mom!" Joe responded in a quaking voice, clinking his
bottle against her glass. They drank together.
Joe's mother stretched luxuriously, turning over further so she was
almost lying on top of her son. "Mmmmm, this is sooo nice," she
murmured. "I could jus' lie here all af'ernoon. With you." Her
hips were moving back and forth, an inch each way. Sunlight
glistened on the slick boots. She drained her drink, then regarded
the melting ice cubes sadly. "Joe, baby, pour me 'nother drink,
won't you?" she pouted.
To get at the bottle Joe had to reach across his mother's body, a
movement that inevitably brought her capacious chest against his.
His mother made no move to get away. Joe could smell her perfume,
and feel the warm closeness of her cheek. His cock twitched. At
last he retrieved the bottle and refilled her glass while his
mother regarded him with hot brown eyes.
"Thanks, honey," she cooed, stroking his arm. "You're always so
*good* to your mommy." She smiled suggestively and sipped her
drink. Joe put the nearly empty bottle where he could reach it
more easily. As he turned back he tried to avoid both looking up,
into his mother's eyes, or looking down, at those incredible,
thigh-high boots that were driving him crazy. Instead his gaze
landed on the straining top of his mother's skimpy bikini.
"Oh no," he breathed.
Somehow while he was reaching around her for the bottle, the top of
her bikini had been knocked askew. It had slipped off one breast
revealing the red, distended nipple that perched on her magnificent
mammary like a ripe cherry on a half-melon. It was just a foot
away and it drew him like a moth to a flame. It begged to be
touched, to be nibbled and licked. If he leaned forward, just a
little, and stuck out his tongue....
His mother noticed his rapt gaze. "Something wrong, baby?" she
asked in a bedroom voice. She pretended to just now notice where
Joe was looking. "Oh, my my. No wonder you're starin', baby."
She toyed with the fabric of her bikini top without really
accomplishing anything. "Thish top dozen fit very well," she said
indifferently, setting down her drink. Joe's eyes tracked the
movement of her half-bare breast. "Here, le's jus' get rid of it."
In a moment she had unfastened the gold ring and the little string
of fabric lay on the grass.
"Oh, Mom!" Joe gasped as her heavy chest came into full view.
Still leaning close to him, his mother hefted her tits in each
hand. "Guesh you really like your mommy's boobs, huh baby?" she
teased. "I remember you loved to suck on 'em when you were l'il
baby." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Why don' you suck on 'em
now?"
Before Joe could respond she had closed the gap between them,
thrusting one boob into his waiting mouth. Surrendering to the
forbidden lust coursing through him, Joe began to lick and suck on
the red nipple, reaching out to squeeze the free tit with his hand.
His mother leaned her head back and sighed contentedly. "Oh, yes
yes yes, baby, that feels soooo good."
Joe sucked and squeezed with abandon, nibbling his mother's nipple
and tonguing her whole breast, then sucking in as much as he could
while his lips worked the soft flesh. He whimpered like a baby
when she pulled the breast away, and sighed happily when it was
replaced with the other one.
When they managed to separate a few minutes later they were both
breathing hard. "Oh, Joe baby that feels so wonnerful," his mother
panted. "But lookit you! Your swimsuit is so tight!" She was
looking directly at his crotch.
Joe looked down, where his mother was still gently stroking him
with one boot-covered leg, and was no longer surprised to discover
he was wearing a different pair of swimming trunks, a tight-fitting
G-string like the ones competitive swimmers wore. It didn't cover
anything more than it had to, and right now he was so tumescent
that the tip of his glans was peaking out of the waistband.
"Oh, you darling boy," Joe's mother cooed, reaching down to boldly
fondle his erection "Look how *big* you are! 's'all that for me?"
She ran the tips of her fingers along the length of his shaft.
Joe twitched helplessly. "Mom, please, I'm so horny!"
"Mmmmm, baby, I can see that. Lemme help you, OK?" She turned
sideways on the chaise lounge and brought her face down near his
crotch. Then she carefully peeled off his swimsuit and pulled it
down his legs. It landed on the grass beside her bikini.
"Such a nice cock, baby" she cooed, stroking him with both hands.
"Soooo hard; sooo nize. Gotta gimme somma that!" She lowered her
red lips to the tip of his cock and sucked him in eagerly.
Joe's back arched and he bucked his hips upward. "Oh, Mom, please,
suck me!" he cried, as his mother's head bobbed up and down on his
shaft. More hair slipped out of her braid but she was too busy to
notice. She stuffed her mouth with his cock, taking him in to the
back of her throat, sucking with noisy abandon.
"Mom! Oh shit Mommmmmm!" Joe cried as he felt the first stirrings
of a mind-blowing climax building within him. "Huh?" he grunted,
suddenly feeling cool air on his cock. His mother had let him slip
out of her mouth. She leaned over him now, panting, eyes half-
closed, a drop of saliva hanging on the corner of her mouth.
"I gotta have you, baby," she husked. "You gotta fuck your mommy!"
Without waiting for an answer she sat up and swung one leg over his
hips, straddling him, one butter-smooth boot pressing against each
leg. Lifting herself up a little, she reached down with one hand
and pulled the fabric of her bikini bottom aside, and with the
other she lifted Joe's cock, still glistening with her saliva, and
aimed it upward. Then with a moan of lustful need she lowered
herself on to her son, sliding his cock deep inside her. "Fuck
your mommy," she groaned, as she started to ride.
Joe put his hands around her waist to steady her as his mother
bucked and jumped on top of him, fucking her son with animal
enthusiasm in the middle of their backyard. Yelping cries of "yes,
yes, yes!" spilled from her throat. She threw back her head,
arched her back, and reached back to grab her ankles with her
hands, trying desperately to take more and more of Joe's pounding
cock. The half-moons of her boobs bounced proudly on her chest,
until Joe reached up and squeezed them lovingly in his hands.
Joe could feel his orgasm building when his mother suddenly changed
position, bending over him for a sloppy, hungry kiss while she
thrust her wide hips backwards onto his wang. "Fuck me, baby," she
chanted wildly, "fuck Mommy hard. Your Mommy needs you so bad!"
They were both pounding away now, bouncing and thrusting with such
energy it threatened to topple the lounge chair. Joe grabbed his
mother's hips again and pressed her down onto him. "I'm gonna come
Mom!" he shouted, "Can't last much longerrrr. Oh shit, here it
comes, oh god Mommmmmmmm!" He almost screamed as the orgasm hit
him. With a grunt from deep in his belly, he came, firing all his
pent-up lust and frustration into his mother's lovenest like a
blast from a canon. She stayed with him all the way, gasping and
moaning as he shot his seed into her. At last, as the crest slowly
subsided, Joe's mom leaned down, sighing, for one more long, wet,
tongue-entwining kiss.
The sun was hanging low in the west, casting long shadows through
the park. Joe sat motionless on the bench, head bent, breathing
deeply, recovering from his colossal orgasm. A couple of young
mothers passed by, pushing baby strollers and chatting about
nothing.
"Ready to decide now?" came the voice.
Joe held the amulet in one hand. The arrow flitted this way
and that like a compass gone berserk. So many different
directions. So many alternatives.
"I'm ready" Joe said.
It was late evening by the time Joe arrived back at his parents'
house, but the long summer twilight still lingered in the western
sky. He walked up the curved walkway to the address he knew so
well. He tried the door. It was unlocked. He stepped inside.
"Oh, thank goodness you're home," came a female voice. Joe looked
up to see his mother standing in the hall. "I was afraid you
wouldn't come back."
"Mom, are you still mad?"
"No, I'm not mad any more Joe. I guess we both lost our tempers
this afternoon." She stepped up to him. "But now you're home, so
let's let bygones be bygones."
Joe smiled. "Thanks, Mom. It's good to be home." They embraced
warmly. As he hugged his mother to him, Joe let one hand slide
down her back, over her derriere and down her thigh, until he felt
the top of her white, skintight boot.
She wasn't wearing anything else.
"Oh baby I've missed you," Joe's mother said. She kissed him long
and hard. "Come on, baby," she urged when their lips finally
separated, "your father won't be home for hours." She took his
hand and led him toward the bedroom.
Far away, in a time and a place beyond any that we can know, a
disembodied voice laughed, loud, long and wicked.
**************************************************
For more Downing Street stories, along with works by many other
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www.mcstories.com. Hosted by ASSTR.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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