My Promiscuous Mom Pt. 03
by George VI©
This is part two of four. We recommend that you start at the beginning, which by our estimate is part 1.
It was between periods of one of my hockey games. I was in the locker room. There were several rows of lockers. The walls in between them only went up as high as the lockers. I heard a couple of my teammates talking on the other side of the row.
"Shit, did you see that? NO PANTIES!"
"Yeah, fucking unbelievable, huh? Who was she?"
I had a feeling I knew who they were talking about, before a third voice whispered, "That's Balin's mom."
"No shit! What a slut!"
A fourth voice chimed in. "I didn't see it, what'd she do?"
"She's sitting in about the fourth row, right behind our bench, wearing a short skirt, and she's not wearing any panties!"
"Yeah, and you can see her whole hairy beaver. Big brown patch of fur!"
"Did you see a couple of the dads in the first few rows? They barely saw any of the game, they were looking up her skirt, too. I wonder if she was flashing us or them."
Well, I spotted her pussy before they even showed, so I think she wanted me."
"No, she wanted me. She's always smiling at me and shit."
"She's got great tits, too."
"Shit, yeah. I'd do her."
"So would I!"
We went back out for the next period. There was Mom, behind the glass, right by our bench, in a denim skirt. She'd let it ride up real far, exposing those long bare legs. There were a bunch of dads in the first three rows, but all the other moms sit in the fourth row, where Mom was, or higher, and don't pay as close attention to the game.
I was at the end of the bench, and I couldn't see up her skirt. But a whole lot of my teammates were looking her way, as were the dads in the first three rows. Mom acted oblivious, talking to the other moms around her, as well as the dads in front of her.
Up until recently, this would have been completely humiliating, to have all my friends and teammates and their dads watching my mom flash her beaver for their enjoyment. Maybe I was just getting used to her behavior now, but I also have to admit that I get excited knowing these guys are hot for my mom, and get to see some of her nudity. But damn, I hadn't seen her bare pussy yet, and I really wanted to.
This time we'd hitched a ride to the game with another teammate, Kenny, and his dad. On the ride home, Mom and I sat in the back, Kenny was in the front passenger set, and his dad was driving the SUV. It was an early game, and it was still light out when we left.
Kenny's dad acted as an assistant coach on the team. He wasn't one of the dads sitting in front of Mom in the stands. All I know is that his rearview mirror was tilted down at a severe angle, and I'm confident that he was looking back at Mom. And Mom seemed to be providing a good view. Her skirt was hiked up real far, and her legs were spread pretty wide apart.
Not only was Kenny's dad watching Mom's beaver, but Kenny had his head turned back toward us most of the time. He pretended to make small talk to Mom and me about the game and such, but his eyes were focused up Mom's skirt. Damn, I couldn't see her pussy from my angle. And I couldn't confront Mom about flashing my teammates and their dads.
When home, I cornered Mom in the kitchen, while she fixed us a quick dinner. "That was quite some show you put on today."
"Not wearing panties. Everybody was talking about it in the locker room."
"Well, I'm embarrassed to say that my panties got soiled, and I had to take them off. I'm sorry if some of your teammates noticed, but I'm sure they didn't see much. And I'm sure it wasn't everybody."
"It was a lot of them."
"How many? What did they say?" Mom seemed eager to hear exactly who said what. I repeated some of the conversations I heard in the locker room, plus what I saw the players and dads looking at. Her face actually got flush. She grilled me on the details, making me repeat exact quotes. "He really said that about me? What were his exact words? He really said he'd 'do' me? Who else was looking at me?" Etc.
"Did you see me?" She asked.
"No. But you know I wanted to."
"Uh, Uh," she said.
"Do you want Dad to hear about this from me, or one of the dads?"
"The other dads won't say anything to your father, so please don't tell him anything either."
"You know I can be bought," I whispered.
Just then Dad came downstairs and plopped down in the chair in front of the family room TV, grabbing a paper and the TV remote.
"Don't say anything," Mom whispered, and walked upstairs.
Just a few minutes later she was back downstairs, in her nightgown. The nightgown was nearly ankle-length, but there were buttons all the way up the front. Last time she wore them, the buttons were buttoned nearly all the way to the bottom. Now, they were unbuttoned about halfway up her thighs. Mom laid down on the couch. I was sitting at the kitchen table.
Mom laid on her right side on the couch. Her nightgown fell open, exposing most of her legs. Mom lifted her left leg up, leaving her knees nearly two feet apart. Mom was looking right at me, with a casual expression on her face. I could see right up her nightgown, and saw her panty-less crotch easily. Her pussy was covered with a thick patch of brown hair, just like the guys described.
Dad was reading his paper, but from his angle he couldn't have seen Mom's pussy anyway. I just gawked at Mom's beaver, and she stared at me.
Then Mom got up, and sat on one of stools at the kitchen island, only five feet from my kitchen chair. Mom faced me, and let her nightgown fall to either side of her legs. Maybe she wasn't sure I could see her from the couch. Again she spread her legs wide, and I gat a close-up view of her pussy, and could even make out some of the flesh through the brown forest.
Dad still wouldn't have been able to see Mom's pussy from that angle, although I thought her pose was a little risqué. Mom also couldn't help that dirty smile on her face. Finally when my sister entered the room Mom stood up and left. And I had to let my hard-on come down before I could leave the kitchen table. Damn, is Mom a serious slut!
We were spending the weekend at Grandma and Grandpa's house. This was my Dad's parents. Some of the other family members were there, too. We always had to go to church on Sunday when we were there, and then Grandma would make a big meal afterwards.
Grandma and Grandpa are your typical mid-seventies retired grandparents. Grandpa is sort of fat, with thinning gray hair and bifocals.
Whenever we eat a big meal at Grandma's, there's not enough room for everybody at their kitchen table, and I end up eating with the kiddies on a card table in the living room. But this time, there wasn't even room for me there, so I ended up sitting at the kitchen table.
Grandpa was sitting on one side of the table with his back against the wall, and Mom was sitting next to him on his left. Mom was still wearing the frumpy, formless, below-knee-length black dress that she had worn to church. I squeezed into a folding chair right at the corner of the table to Mom's left, and barely had room to place my plate right on the corner of the table. Dad was sitting on the opposite side of Mom and Grandpa.
While I was eating, I noticed that Grandpa was eating with his right hand and had his left hand under the tablecloth. His hand was over on Mom's lap. Normally nobody else would be able to see this, but from my unique spot at the corner of the table I was looking right down at their laps. I could see that his hand was between Mom's legs. Mom's skirt was bunched up a little on her lap, and I could tell that Grandpa's hand was under her skirt. Real high. Like right on her crotch!
Neither Mom nor Grandpa were overly talkative during the meal, but they did converse a little. They never looked at each other. I didn't converse either, trying to subtly glance down at Grandpa's hand under my mother's skirt.
I was dying to see more. My cousin was sitting on the end of the table to my left, and when he finished eating he left the table. This gave me a little room to work. I dropped my fork on purpose. I bent down to pick it up. Fortunately, the tablecloth wasn't very long at the end of the table, and I didn't have to lift it to look under the table. I quickly leaned way over and looked under the table.
Mom had her legs spread wide. She wasn't wearing any hose, and I could see her bare legs. I got a quick glimpse of her white panties at her crotch. I could also see Grandpa's meaty left hand, and his fingers disappearing inside of her panties.
When I sat back up, Mom gave me a wary look, but neither she nor Grandpa adjusted their position that I noticed.
Instead of darting from the table like a usually do when I finished, I hung out and talked with the adults, keeping an eye on Mom and Grandpa. Finally when other people stood up to leave, Grandpa removed his big meaty hand from under the table. I could see that his fingers were moist. He wiped his hand on his napkin.
On the drive home from Grandma and Grandpa's, we stopped at a crowded burger place to eat. All four of us ordered. Dad and my sister waited for the food, while Mom and I grabbed a booth in the far right corner. Mom slid to the back of the booth, and instead of sitting across from her, I sat next to her on her right.
"So how long has Grandpa been a dirty old man?" I asked her.
"What do you mean?" Mom asked.
"I saw what he was doing under the table at lunch."
"Oh my God," Mom muttered. "Uh, well, I can remember when your dad and I were engaged and we were visiting him, and I was brushing my hair in the bathroom mirror, and he came up from behind and grabbed my breasts. And he's been a little grabby ever since."
"So why do you let him?"
"Uh, well, he's really harmless, just an old-time dirty old man like you said. I endure it to keep peace in the family. It keeps us in his will."
"Dad doesn't know, does he?"
"No. And let's keep it that way."
"My silence comes at a price," I said. I slipped my left hand under the table, onto Mom's thigh over her dress.
Mom looked over at me and whispered, "Oh, no. Very wrong."
But I started slowly pulling her skirt up with my fingers. Mom took her coat, which was bunched up next to her, and placed it on her lap. Possibly she's had some experience with this sort of thing before. When her hem got above her knee, I slid my hand under it, up her naked thigh. My mom stared around the room as my palm climbed her long right thigh. It was the first time I'd felt her smooth naked upper thigh flesh. My heart was racing.
When my little pinky grazed against her cotton panty, Mom spread her legs wider. I cupped her warm mound and rubbed it, and slid my fingers over her hump. Mom's panties were wet around her slit.
I looked around the room, too. I could see Dad and my sister still waiting for the food. I began to work my fingers inside the elastic at the side of Mom's panties. I felt hair.
Mom's right thigh was pressed against my left thigh as she spread her legs wider. I got four fingers completely inside of her panties. I combed them through the long pubic hairs. I rubbed her fleshy mound. I found her slit.
Mom arched her hips forward as my middle finger slid into her warm greasy pussy. I circled it around as wide as I could go, then slowly thrust it in and out up to my third knuckle. It seemed like a bottomless pit.
Mom emitted a little gasp. She clamped her thighs around my hand. Her mouth was open and her eyelids were fluttering. "Does it hurt?" I asked.
"No," she grunted. "Orr, Orgasm!" She briefly rested her head on her hand. I kept fingering. Her naked thighs were quivering around my hand.
Dad and my sister approached the table with a big tray of food. In all of the hustle of finding the right food and drinks, they didn't seem to notice that I was sitting next to Mom, and that I was only using one hand to grab my food. Mom began to regain composure.
For another minute I kept my finger in my Mom, as I sat across from Dad. Finally Mom put her hand under the table and pulled my hand away from her pussy. I couldn't resist subtly brining my wet middle finger up to my nose and taking a quick whiff of Mom's pussy smell. Then, like Grandpa, I wiped my finger off with my napkin, and ate my burger.
While finishing my meal next to Mom, across from Dad, I realized that I apparently was the third generation in my family to finger-fuck my mom. Damn, she is such a slut!
On Saturday night, Dad had a cocktail party at our house for his employees and co-workers. My sister spent the night with a friend. I went to the movies with some friends, and got home around 11:00. The party was in full swing. There were maybe twenty people there, couples and singles. Some were Dad's subordinates; a few were people at his level and their spouses. And there was Dan, Dad's boss. Most were consuming plenty of liquor, judging by all the bottles on the kitchen counter. The guests were spread throughout the front living room, the dining room, the kitchen, and the family room.
Mom introduced me to some of the people, including Dan, whom I'd met before. Then I helped myself to some food in the dining room. I scoped out some of the wives in the living room. There were some decent-looking ones, but I judged that Mom was the one I would fuck over any of them. She wore a dark green turtleneck sweater tucked into black dress slacks. The panty lines under her slacks were stylishly small – not tiny, but not her granny panties. Her sweater wasn't the skin-tight type that she wears to work, but it made her buxom figure look curvy. Under it I could see the swell of her cleavage spilling out over the top of her bra.
Mom was drinking. She wasn't sloppy drunk, but I could tell by her smile and body language that she had a nice little buzz going. Dad was in the family room talking shop. This left Mom alone to host the living room and dining room guests. Several of these guests were single men, or men who came without their wives. One of these was Dad's boss Dan.
I roamed the downstairs on the outskirts of the party, drinking pop. I could see Mom showing some guy a painting on our wall. While they stood admiring the painting, I could see Mom pressing her tit into his shoulder. He didn't seem to mind.
Rather than going downstairs to my room, I decided to observe the action from upstairs, where I could see most of the living room. I stood in the second-floor darkness, peering down at the guests. I managed to catch several men staring at Mom's chest. Several of them approached Mom and talked to her. And for her part, Mom seemed to be enjoying their conversation. Twice I saw Mom squeeze through a tight spot and rub her tits on some guy's back or shoulder. Both times the guys looked up at Mom's eyes and she's give them a little smile as she walked away.
Then I noticed Dan talking to Mom. They both had their backs to the wall, facing the rest of the party. Dan had a mixed drink in his hand, Mom a wine cooler. Their faces were inches away from each other. I thought their demeanor was very flirtatious. Dan occasionally glanced down at Mom's chest. At one point he seemed to put his arm around Mom's waist. When others joined them, Dan wandered off.
Shortly after that, I saw Mom walk toward the stairs. I ducked back into my sister's room. I heard her familiar footsteps ascend the stairs, and I could see her enter the hallway bathroom. A moment later, I heard more footsteps coming up the stairs. Dan stepped into the upstairs hallway. He stood outside the bathroom in the dark, glancing around the hall and back down the stairs.
Mom opened the door, and turned out the bathroom light before stepping into the dark hallway. She jumped back and gasped when she saw Dan's silhouette.
Mom quietly giggled, "Oh, Dan, you startled me."
Dan stood silently in front of Mom briefly. Then he simply pushed her up against the wall, and kissed her. Mom didn't resist. She kissed him back, and put her arms around him. My eyes had adjusted to he darkened hallway to make out most of their features, and I could hear much of what they said and did, including their kissing sounds, and Mom's low moans.
Dan wasted little time moving his right hand up Mom's stomach to her chest, and fondled her left tit over her sweater. With no resistance from Mom, his left hand worked its way under her sweater, and went beneath it to feel her right tit. Soon her sweater and white bra were both residing under her armpits, and Dan groped her bare tits.
"Let's fuck," I heard Dan order, as his left hand went down to Mom's crotch, and rubbed it over her slacks.
"Oh Dan, we might get caught here," moaned Mom.
There was a muffled exchange that I couldn't decipher. Mom glanced down the stairs once, and then said, "You keep an eye on the stairs." Then she dropped to her knees. She unsnapped Dan's Dockers, unzipped them, reached in, and pulled out his hard cock. She stroked it a few times, opened her mouth wide, and placed the cock into it.
I watched in fascination as Mom's head bobbed over the glistening dick. Dan leaned against the hallway wall looking down at his employee's wife on her knees in front of him. Her slurping sounds were quite audible. She jerked her neck rapidly, her brown hair falling in her face. Occasionally she would palm his balls or stroke his shaft with her long fingers while she slurped his dick head, but she always kept her lips on him.
Dan moaned. Mom sucked with conviction and fury. Dan lasted about as long as I would have.
"Here it comes," grunted Dan. If he came much, which I expect he did, then Mom swallowed most of it. Her sucking slowed as she gulped, before licking it clean.
Mom rose and quickly ducked back into the bathroom. Dan zipped his pants, looked around, and descended back downstairs to the party. I heard the water running in the bathroom as Mom cleaned up, spitting into the sink. Within a minute, she again exited the bathroom, with her sweater tucked in and her face clean, and rejoined her party.
"Is that how Dad keeps his job?" It was the following afternoon before I had a chance to speak to Mom alone, in the family room.
"What are you talking about?" Mom asked.
You and Dan. At the party. Upstairs."
"I don't know what you think you saw, but nothing happened," Mom lied.
"First you made out with him. Then he felt your bare tits. Then you dropped to your knees and unzipped his pants. Want to hear more details?"
"NO! And your father's a good employee, and that's not the ONLY way he keeps his job. But it uh, helps."
"I can see how. It would help me to keep my mouth shut, if you, uh, helped me that way."
"Brad, that's SICK!" How can you even think of having your own mother perform a, a SEX ACT on you? NO!"
"If it's such a bad thing, I'll bet Dad wouldn't want you to be doing it with his boss."
"Please, PLEASE, not this, Brad. I just couldn't. It would be so wrong. Uh, something else."
"No, I really want you to blow me. I'll let you think about it for a while."
"I'll, I'll THINK about it, but don't get your hopes up."
That was the last we spoke of it for the rest of the day. That night I went to bed downstairs, unsatisfied, wondering what to try next. I really would never squeal to Dad about my mom, and maybe she has finally called my bluff.
Then there was a quiet knock on my bedroom door. "Yeah?"
Mom entered my darkened bedroom. With the hallway light behind her, I could see that she had her long robe on. "What?" I asked.
Mom made no reply. She very quietly closed the door behind her. Only my nightlight allowed me to see her creep over to my bed. I was starting to get tingly.