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The last thing I remember before falling asleep was lying between Mark’s legs, my hands tickling his balls softly and my lips resting on his cock head. When I woke up, everything that happened flooded my head, and I was relieved that Mark was already up. I could hear the shower running.
I don’t think there is a mother with half a brain who doesn’t feel waves of guilt the morning after she fucked her son. The guilt was pervasive, My pussy ached and was still wet. I reached down and couldn’t believe just how soaked I was. Then it hit me. Mark came inside me. I was full of my son’s cum. What made the guilt intensify was that I wanted more of this, more of my son’s cock inside me, more of his cum shooting into me. The woman I had become and still was becoming was a very different woman than the one that was wife to Jon and a mother to their son.
Not only that, I was using my body to optimize my success at work. Amos and Bob had seen me behave like an utter slut. Sure, I didn’t let them touch me or worse, but they knew it was just a matter of time, and I did, too. In fact, after I left them and reviewed their purchase orders in my car, I wondered how business might pick up even more if these two men were each fucking a hole. I wanted that black cock that had Amos had; I didn’t really care about Bob’s cock, but if sucking his cock meant I got to take a big black cock in my ass – well, I was in!
I heard the shower turn off. Mark popped in a few minutes later. “Mom, get dressed in something nice. I am taking you to breakfast. I will be downstairs waiting.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. I did as he instructed, noticing he didn’t ask me if I wanted to go out; he just told me to get ready. Maybe there was nothing to that, but it did cross my mind that perhaps my son had gained the confidence to just inform me about what he wanted me to do.
I showered, dried my hair, put on some make up and then, once I opened my closet door, had no clue what to wear. Mark had said, “something nice,” but what did “nice” mean? We were going out in public which meant we might run into someone we knew. I figured Mark knew that, too, and that he wasn’t expecting to see walk down stairs in a slutty dress or a top so low cut my tits were barely covered. But I also intuited he didn’t want me in sweats and a tee-shirt or in some mom-type floral dress with a high neckline that hung to my knees.
Eventually I found middle ground. I slipped on a tight pair of black yoga pants over my bare pussy, a white scoop neck tee-shirt (no bra) over which I draped a black, semi-transparent, chiffon buttonless wrap that hung to my waist. Mark approved. “Very nice, mother. I wondered what you would come up with.”
Mark was wearing blue jeans and a white shirt untucked. He looked good. I handed my keys to him. “The man should drive, don’t you think?”
While I drove, I snuck looks at him. He was my son, but he was also a 24-year-old man, nearly 25, and I knew he had the brains and the civility to truly think about what was happening to us. He wasn’t a horny teen-ager anymore, but rather a man who was driving his mother, an older, sexual woman to breakfast.
I tried to begin a conversation. “About last night, Mark…”
“Let’s discuss that over breakfast.”
“Sounds good.” He did it again, taking command of things.
“Do you have any plans for the weekend, for today?”
“No,” I said. “I am wide open.”
“Good, I like you wide open.” His smile was small and sly, almost evil, and I felt it between my legs.”
We went to the Swedish Bakery and Restaurant, one of our favorite places. Usually we sat in a booth, but apparently Mark had called ahead to reserve a table in the far corner. He pointed to a chair. “Please sit there, mother.” Then he sat down to the side of me, instead of across from me.
We ordered our usual, Swedish Pancakes and eggs over with Korv (Swedish Sausage). After the server brought our coffees, Mark turned to me and said, “Last night was incredible, though unexpected, mother. He held up his hand to signal I was to listen, not speak yet. “I felt some guilt this morning and I am sure you did too, but I don’t want to talk about guilt or how what we are doing is wrong, or whatever.”
I nodded. He took a sip of his coffee. “I want to talk about today and tomorrow and next week and next month, mother.”
I could feel my nipples harden. “Okay.”
“I am your son, but I am also a grown man. It is no longer your place to protect me. So…” He paused while the waitress refilled our cups. “I am not dating anyone and frankly have no interest in doing so, but I need to ask you something.”
I peered over my coffee cup. “Yes?” I was trembling.
“I want…I want to be your boyfriend going forward.”
“I see.” I pushed away the guilty feelings that were edging up my throat. What does that mean, actually?”
“It means we are lovers and it means I want to take you out on dates, for dinner and lunch and shopping and everything else that a boyfriend does with his…his girlfriend.”
“What if we run into people?”
“I ankara escort know we have to be careful, but the city is a big place and we can find new place to go.”
Just a few days ago, I would have been protesting. It dawned on me that now I was focused on logistics and privacy.
“So, you want others to see us as a couple, an older woman with her younger man?”
“Exactly. And don’t worry neither of us have to be monogamous. I am not slow, mother. I see how you dress for work. I imagine you are using your feminine charms on your clients.”
“Yes, you are not slow, son.” I thought for a moment. “Does this mean I should call you by your first name and not call you my son?”
“Either is fine, mother. Trust is I want to be a son whose mother is his girlfriend.”
My nipples were rock hard now. I slipped the wrap off of my shoulders and looked down. “Mark, I want to be your girlfriend.” I smiled. “I am wet. Are you…hard?”
Mark shifted in his seat so I could look between his legs. “Oh my,” I whispered. I opened my legs and said, “I should have worn a dress, son.”
“From now on you always will, mother.”
“Yes, I will, for you.” I remembered what he said about monogamy. “So, you will still see other girls?”
“If one comes along, I want to see, but it will only be casual.”
“Sounds good.” Actually, I didn’t like the thought of my son fucking another woman, but I couldn’t very well say so when I knew I would eventually be fucking clients.
“There’s more,” Mark continued. “I want you to be my slutty girlfriend.”
I laughed. “Somehow I knew that, son.”
Mark laughed, too. “What I mean is that I want you to be slutty with other men, maybe even with other women.”
“You mean dress slutty around them?”
“Yes, but also be slutty, mother. I have an interest in seeing you with other people. Maybe participating.”
This should have shocked me, but it didn’t. “Wow,” I said. “Just, wow.” What was happening was crazy hot and I won’t lie and say pangs of guilt weren’t present, but they lacked the intensity I had felt in the past. The idea of going out with Mark, looping my arm in his, and being his older girl friend was arousing to say the least. Mark is handsome and in good shape, and I am, like most women, vain. I knew people would look and wonder. Men would imagine how good in bed I must be to land a good-looking man half my age and women, especially those near my age would think the same thing about Mark’s prowess as a young stud. Just imagine what they would think if they knew the entire truth.
My phone buzzed. It had buzzed three times before, but I had ignored it. I looked. It was Amos. He wanted to take me out to dinner tonight. “I want to get to know you better,” he wrote.
I must have had a worried look on my face.
“What is it, mom?”
“A client.”
“Texting you on Saturday? What does he want?”
I handed Mark the phone and waited.
“Interesting. Have you fucked him?”
I shook my head. “No, but I sat in his office naked.”
“Wow.”
“His partner was there too.”
“I bet they buy a lot from you.”
“They do.”
“Amos must be black. Don’t come across white guys named Amos.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Do you want to fuck him?”
“I think so, though I do worry it will be complicated work.”
Mark laughed. “As if sitting there naked doesn’t.”
My face flushed. “Yes, I actually did more than just sit there. I showed them everything.”
“I am sure you did, mother. You like men seeing your body.”
“What should I say?”
“Tell him, you will be happy to see him, but that you want to make him dinner.”
“Really?”
“Yes, mother.”
“Will you be there?”
“I will be in the house, but I won’t meet him or anything.”
“I see. So… so you want me to fuck him?”
“I do.”
“Christ.”
“Just call me Mark, mother.” He was grinning.
I tittered. “Or son,” I teased.
“We should go buy you something to wear.”
“That could be fun, something sexy.”
“And slutty, mother.”
I nodded. “Yes of course.”
***
Mark drove a mall on the other side of the city, one we had never been to. We held hands as we walked in the parking lot, though we broke our grips when we entered the mall. We needed to be careful, and I was relieved that Mark was aware of that, too.
We ended up in a store that featured clothing for “mature women,” which was code for curvy old broads like me. I didn’t think they would have something slutty to wear, but I said nothing. It took Mark ten minutes to realize this. He shook his head, “Crap, mom, they must think women like you don’t exist.”
“No kidding,” I agreed. “So now what?”
“We’ll find something in your closet, I guess. That’s when he noticed a lingerie shop. “Let’s check in there,” he suggested.
“What am I looking for?”
“I do like that shelf bra. You should have a few of them in different colours.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have crotchless panties?”
“No but we can buy some if escort ankara you like.”
“I like.”
When we walked in there was a rack of baby doll lingerie on sale. Most of them were see-through and I could tell they would not cover my ass.
“You should buy a few of those.”
The sales clerk approached us. She was close to my age and attractive. “How are you today? I am Joy.”
“We’re fine,” Mark said.
“Hi Joy, I am Sandra, and this is Mark.”
“How can I help you?”
“Sandra is interested in these baby dolls, some shelf bras and a few pair of panties.”
I blushed when I heard Mark refer to me by my name.
Mark leaned toward the woman. “Crotchless,” he whispered. “Crotchless panties. Do you carry those?”
“Oh yes,” Joy chimed. “We have quite a few to choose from.”
We spent more than an hour in the shop. Mark watched me change into each outfit, except the panties. I wasn’t allowed to try those on but I would hold them up for him in the store so he could see how they opened up. He made me strip naked in the change room. I tried on the baby dolls, maybe ten of them and I would twirl around for him. He chose four – pink, purple, rose red, and white – all see-through and he chose the shortest ones. About 25% of my ass hung below the baby dolls and he loved that. While I was naked, he had me try on shelf bras and I felt very conspicuous doing that, totally nude.
We ended up buying three – pale violet, pale blue, and white. Joy popped in a few times to see how we are doing, but what she really saw was my exposed body. Mark kept the door wide open. It took him a while to decide on the shelf bras, so he had Joy watch and comment.
“Are you sure?” She looked at me.
“I want your opinion,” Mark said, but I knew better. He wanted her to see me pose for him. He wanted her to see my body.
She didn’t seem to mind and at one point she actually lifted each breast with one hand and stretched out the half cup to better hold and display my tits. She stepped back and smiled. “Very nice,” she said softly.
Mark smiled. “She does have wonderful breasts, doesn’t she?”
“That she does,” Joy replied.
She saw me blush. Her eyes drifted down between my legs and Mark caught her looking. “She’s got a very nice…”
“Mark,” I interrupted. I looked at Joy. “He is incorrigible. I am sorry.” I turned around to grab my yoga pants. They had fallen to the floor. Without thinking I bent over to retrieve them.
“Oh my,” Joan moaned.
I looked at her, embarrassed for showing her the open crack of my ass. I was about to say sorry, but when I saw the smile on her face, I sensed an apology was not necessary.
“If I may,” she said. “I have one more thing to show you.” She ran off without waiting for an answer and returned with a package that she handed to Mark.
“Ah, a body suit, very strategic cut-outs in all the right places.”
He held up the package so I could see a voluptuous woman in a front and back pose. Her tits were hanging through two mesh holes on top and her pussy and ass were on display as well through their own cut-outs. “Amos might appreciate this, Sandra.”
The clerk looked at me. “Amos?”
“One of her boyfriends,” Mark smiled.
“I know an Amos.”
My head turned toward Joy. This was a bit unnerving.
“I am sure there are many,” Mark said, sensing my discomfort.
“Yeh,” she said. “I knew him in university, so it’s been a while.”
Mark smiled. “Makes me think of that old show, Amos and Andy.”
Joy went on. “We dated for a few months, but unfortunately things didn’t work out. He ended up seeing my roommate.”
“Ouch,” I said.
She nodded. “Yeh, married the bitch right after we graduated.”
I was pulling up my yoga pants, my tits flopping and jiggling as I shimmied into them. “If I may, I wish I had what you have.”
“Thank you.” I should have moved the conversation in another direction and to be honest I don’t know what I was thinking of when I said, “Well, Joy, you are better off without him.”
“You are probably right, but you know what they say.”
“What’s that?”
Joy’s cheeks went pink. “You know, once you go black and all that.” Then she looked at Mark. “Shit I am sorry. It’s just that…”
Mark held up his hand. “No need to explain.”
Shit, I thought.
“Well it worked out for him. My roommate came from a wealthy family and she convinced her brother to take Amos in as his partner at some boring office supply company.”
Mark paid for everything. Once we were back in the car, he handed me the receipt. I looked. At the bottom of the receipt she had written her phone number and the words, “Call if I can be of further service.”
“Well we won’t be phoning her Mark. She knows Amos.”
“Yeh I guess but she sure wants to suck your pussy and you know it.”
“Mark, please. You don’t know that.”
“Well, a phone call would settle that, wouldn’t it?”
I nodded. “Perhaps but it’s too close to home.”
Mark ignored me. “Especially if you ankara escort bayan called.”
“What are you trying to do? Embarrass me?”
“Come on, mother. Can you honestly say you wouldn’t love feeling her mouth on you?”
“I can’t risk it. She would not be happy with my relationship with Amos.”
“Or his brother in law,” Mark smirked.
“Please.”
“She would fuck him again, mother, if she had the chance.”
I tucked the receipt in my purse. “Just drive.”
Our last stop was at the grocery store. I picked up some Chicago Sirloins, mushrooms, fresh beans, baby potatoes, and some fixings for salad. Mark had fun teasing me in the produce section. He handed me a huge cucumber and said, “You could fuck this for me before you cut it up for the salad.”
“That’s nasty.”
“But you will do it, won’t you?”
“If you make me, I will of course.”
It was mid-afternoon by the time we got back home. Amos would arrive in three hours, and I had a lot to do. “Maybe I should cancel.”
“You’re nervous is all, mom.”
He was right. My major client was coming by to fuck me and my son would be in the house, no doubt listening in whenever he could. “Shit, Mark. I don’t have any condoms.”
“I am sure he will bring some.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Well, why not cross that bridge when you come to it.”
“That’s a big help. You could go pick some up for me while I get ready.”
“I could,” Mark said.
But he didn’t.
“I will go lay out what you will wear tonight while you straighten up the house.”
I began sweeping up the kitchen floor.
“Mother, aren’t you forgetting something?”
I rested the broom against the counter and removed my clothes. “You are so cruel.”
Ten minutes later, Mark was upstairs, and I was loading the dishwasher buck naked with my son’s cum all over my face and tits.
About an hour before Amos was to arrive, I showered quickly, ran a razor over my pussy, and spent most of my shower time washing my holes and the cum off of me. I smiled when I walked into my bedroom. Next to the outfit Mark had laid out was a box of unopened king size condoms. I should have known Mark had his own protection; he had just been fucking with me.
Next to the condoms was the body suit and a knee-length, rather conservative button-down dress. I didn’t hear Mark walk into the room. “He will enjoy you gradually getting out of that dress.” It was then that I noticed what he had laid out on the side table. “Jesus, Mark.”
“Just giving him options, mother.”
I was timing dinner to be ready within 30 minutes of my guest’s arrival. I had 15 minutes to kill; so, I poured myself a double scotch on the rocks and sat down in the living room. Mark had already gone to his room, but he had left on a video with the sound off. I didn’t notice it until I sat down on the sofa to see a close up of a woman’s ass being destroyed by the biggest black cock I had ever seen. How fortunate, I thought, that I saw this before Amos arrived. I grabbed the remote but waited to click it off. I wanted to see the man cum in her ass. I didn’t get the chance. The doorbell dinged and I clicked the remote and hurried to the door.
I had not realized how tall and muscular Amos was and how incredibly sexy his smile was. He was holding a bunch of multi-coloured garden flowers. His jeans were tight and new; his shirt was a pull-over and so tight it showed the outline of his pectoral muscles. It was the oddest thing. We both knew why he was there and we both knew he was going to do as he wished with me, but our greeting was rather professional, perhaps a carry over from the facade we put on at his office in front of others.
Amos watched me cut and vase the flowers and set them on the dining room table. “They are beautiful. Thank you so much.”
“Beauty deserves beauty,” he replied.
“Scotch?”
“Perfect.”
We sat at the kitchen table. I still had a few things cooking and needed to be close to the stove. Our small talk didn’t last long. All I could really think about was if his cock was as big as I hoped it was and if Joy was right about what “they say” about black cock.
“I was surprised when you invited me over.”
“Me, too,” I tittered.
My hair was up, which he had never seen before. My dress was plain, without any cleavage showing and I figured the best way to offset the lack of view was to provide one of my neck.
Amos seemed to approve. “I love your look.”
“Thank you.”
He got this look on his face that sparked something between my legs. “I did wonder, you know, given our last meeting, if…” He stopped himself. “You look lovely.”
That’s when I realized that he may have expected or at least hoped I might answer the door naked. Mark’s choice of what I was wearing underneath was brilliant. “Oh,” I whispered. “This is my kitchen dress, not my dining room attire.”
He laughed. “So, how long until we eat?”
“Not long. Besides, you know what they say. Good things come to those who wait.”
“Yes, I have heard that. I am sure in this case it is true.”
We kept on with the teasing while I finished cooking. When everything was ready, I walked Amos into the dining room and had him take the seat at the head of the table. “I’ll be right back.”
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