A Mishap of Circumstance Ch. 01

Looking in my panty drawer, I found what I was looking for: a black set of panties with a matching bra. What choice did I have, right? Sexy, slutty witch it would be. I had some dark lipstick and eye-shadow to go with the ensemble, so I got to work.

In minutes, I had the witch face ready. There was no green skin makeup to apply, so it was just purple eye-shadow topped with near dark lipstick. My dark brown hair would do under the hat, and it was time to put on the dress. What little there was of it!

In my daughter's defense, she is smaller than I. So that dress on her would come to mid-thigh. On me, it was just under the tops of my fishnet stockings. I would have to be careful not to bend over. And the top was so low that anyone could see most of my boobs. At least it was a pushup bra, and the girls would look great. Take that, Wilma!

I don't know what possessed me just then, but I had a naughty thought. 'Panties over stockings,' I reminded myself. As if someone would unwrap me later in the evening. I almost sobbed at the notion that Randy might spend the night and sample my charms. Wishful thinking maybe. But I still had feelings for the philandering lug.

Twenty years will do that to people. We had gotten under each other's skin. But I was still angry at him for stepping out with Marcia, the office slut. So I wiped the tear off my face, pulled up the black panties over my stockings and garter belt before letting the small witch dress cover as much as it could.

Staring in the mirror, I saw a different person looking back at me. Gone was the former soccer mom, college student, office business type. Replacing her was an alluring babe who still had it. And why not? Why not flaunt it a bit. Even for a night with neighbors and our grown kids?

"Fuck you, Wilma. Fuck you, Bamby. And fuck you, Marcia," I said, putting on the hat. "Who names their kid Bamby, anyway?"

And with that, I managed to get myself down to the party. Without falling off the heels on the stairs.

***

The Monster mash

I was working in the lab, late one night

When my eyes beheld an eerie sight

For my monster from his slab, began to rise

And suddenly, to my surprise

Yes, that stupid song was playing as I made the rounds. All the neighbors invited were there. Even Wilma and Fred. Both in matching devil outfits. He looked stupid in his, while she looked like a street whore with horns and a tail. She made a face at my outfit while Fred stared like he had not seen tits on display before.

He did the monster mash

(The monster mash) It was a graveyard smash

(He did the mash) It caught on in a flash

(He did the mash) He did the monster mash

I don't know when it started, but while the kids drank beer, we adults hit the hard stuff. None of us had to drive, so we celebrated that all our kids were of age and out of high school. Then that we were all near of just past forty - and after that, just because.

From my laboratory in the castle east

To the master bedroom where the vampires feast

The ghouls all came from their humble abodes

To get a jolt from my electrodes

Then I saw him. Jack Benson. The nasty kid who smoked pot at the last party we had out in the back yard. I was not going to let him do that again. And in that moment of early drunkenness, I had this irrational thought. The shithead probably had his stash in his coat upstairs since he didn't seem to have it on his skinny jeans or t-shirt. Does anyone still wear skinny jeans? Or just him?

They did the monster mash

(The monster mash) It was a graveyard smash

(They did the mash) It caught on in a flash

(They did the mash) They did the monster mash

Downing my vodka and juice in one gulp, I set the glass down and walked upstairs. If anything, that song was in the distance as I entered the spare bedroom and closed the door. The pothead had a red jacket when I saw him arrive, which was easy to spot. Leaning over the edge of the bed, I started to go through the pockets.

And that was when I heard the door open slowly, letting a beam of light into the room, illuminating me briefly.

"Hmm..." I heard a man clearly behind me.

I wasn't sure who it was. I thought it was Randy, who had yet to arrive earlier. Or I hoped it was and that he had come looking for me. Slightly drunk, I maybe wished it was my husband. His presence in the dark aroused me. And it only continued as I felt a manly hand touch my upturned behind as I froze in place.

The hand continued to fondle my right then left buttcheek. And it felt so good! To be touched again after so long. I had the urge to turn and kiss Randy on the spot. Yet I liked the position I was in as his hands lowered to feel my fishnet-covered thighs and that gap of naked flesh above the top.

"Awh!" I gasped as his fingers trailed over my thigh gap touching my inner wet place.

"Hmmm," he sounded again.

In my mind, I had thoughts of the Frankenstein Monster behind me, groaning as he felt his first pussy ever. Yes, too much of Mell Brooks's "Young Frankenstein" in my young years. But those fingers, why they probed and reached under my black lace panties to tease my now wet labia. And one of them dared to enter me as if I was a bowling ball while his thumb rested on my puckering back hole.

"Augh!" I gasped again.

Then his hand reached around me to feel my left breast. He hefted its weight as I stayed kneeling in front of him, and his fingers probed my wet gash. It just... felt... so... good! To be manhandled once again. To have a man's fingers on me -- in me!

I was putty in his hands. I wanted... NO. I needed him in me. Reaching behind me, with my right hand, I yanked my panties down. He stopped fingering me and pulled his hand out of the way. But his hand went from grasping my breast to near mauling it. Strangely, I wanted him to. And in my arousal, I arched my back when I felt my panties reach my knees, showing him what I had in the faint light.

The room was dark, but our eyes had time to adjust to it. I could make out faint outlines of the furniture and pictures hanging from the wall - my mom and dad's portrait of all things. Look the other way dad. Your girl is about to take a dick.

And then I heard a zipper being undone as his left hand continued to probe my wetness. He had two fingers in me by then, and I was dripping in anticipation. I could sense his breathing in the silence of the room as he could probably hear my heart beating fast. And still, we said nothing to each other - until I felt him rub his tip up and down my wet slit.

"Augh!" I gasped yet again as I felt his thick tip enter me.

Thick! What?

It went in me deeper, spreading me open in ways I had never been penetrated and stretched before. It felt so good, dulling my mental capacity to reason as my walls gave way to this girthy man-meat. The cock was... was... different. Was I that drunk? Why did it feel so good inside me?

"Augh!"

And he fed me more of it. Further and deeper than I could remember, any previous cock inside me! Not that there have been that many before Randy in college. When he withdrew, I felt my pussy walls trying to hold on to him. 'No! Don't leave!' my pussy begged the cock. 'I need more inside me. It feels so good. Come back in.'

"Augh!"

And it did. In slow even strokes, his thick dick invaded and penetrated my willing pussy over and over. Again and again. It reached deep within me to bottom out past my cervix. The jolt of his jarring thrusts reverberated around my pelvis, past my womb, and into my abdomen. I could not remember experiencing such pleasure from being fucked before.

"Augh! Augh! Augh!"

His hands grasped my hips and tugged hard. The thrust forced all of his manhood in me. And as his thighs bounced off my ass, his balls slapped my clit with each thrust. It felt good, but it was the sense of fullness that overwhelmed my senses. After a minute of this pounding, I felt it for the first time in ages. A different orgasm that I had experienced only a few times. It did not emanate from my clit as most did. No. This wave of pleasure was inducing sensations on countless nerve endings in my entrance and inner walls. I gasped as the wave-like sensation passed through me and persisted as he continued fucking me.

"Auuuuuugh!"

And still, he kept going as he held my hips -- ramming himself in me -- rocking my core. I felt my body tremble as the orgasm continued from my groin to across my body. My nipples burned, and my mind blurred as I fought to catch my breath. And still, he pounded in me. And I no longer cared about anything else. Living for the next thrust in me and the pleasure it brought.

"Auuugh!"

I was finally coming back down to our universe, but my lover in the dark continued fucking me. His cock inside me felt unbelievably... perfect! I wanted more. I needed more and arched again to receive as much as he could give.

"More," I heard myself whisper.

Later I wondered if he had heard me as he continued at a steady mechanical pace of thrusts and withdrawals. By then, my love tunnel was running wet, and I would listen to the sloppy sounds of my froth around his dick, mixed with his body slapping mine. In that small room, the sounds and now smells of sex permeated everything.

"Augh!"

And just then, the door opened again with the accompanying beam of light on the bed. Our collective shadow of my stooped and his hunching forms showed briefly on the opposite wall. My mind, overwhelmed by another orgasm, barely noticed the intrusion.

"Close the door, man."

Oh shit! Shit! That wasn't Randy. Not my husband! That was... my son's friend: Chris!

"Sorry, brah," I heard another familiar voice. "You and Celia at it again?"

Oh no! My son! Clyde was in the room! What was he doing there? What was I doing with his best friend? And my son could see his friend fucking me!

Yet my body did not stop feeling the incredible sensations, nor did it want to. Chris was continuing the assault on my inner sanctum with that beautiful thick prick of his. I was confused between trying to make sense of my predicament and the pleasure I was receiving. I had enough sense to stay quiet as our fucking continued in the secluded semi-darkness. Not so secluded anymore.

"You're a perve man," Chris said to my son. "Why do you like watching me fuck?"

"I like watching anyone fuck," my son retorted.

My son. Was my son a voyeur? Holy hell.

"If you want," Chris said, continuing his thrusts without distraction. "I'll have Celia take you on."

Celia. The name was familiar somehow. Did they think I was her? They had to. They must. Oh shit! Had Chris just offered me to my son? I had to stop this.

"No, man," Clyde replied. "I can fuck Debbie after watching this. Celia is your ride. Not mine."

His ride! His ride! I was but a ride! Well, not me. This Celia person. But I was Celia just then, wasn't I?

Oh, God... I... it felt so good again. No way to stop him or another orgasm cumming. Would Clyde recognize the sounds I made? Burying my face in the pile of coats, I groaned in sweet agony as I came again.

"Mmmmmugh!"

"Oh, she fucken loves it. Don't you Celia?"

I was too busy trembling from this last orgasm to respond with away. Then without thinking, I mumbled.

"U-hum," in mumbled agreement, hoping that would placate them.

"Oh yeah," Chris said, now slightly out of breath. "I'm close baby."

Close! What did he mean? Oh, how his dick felt inside me! For the next few moments, I stopped caring who I was with and who was watching. My body was approaching another orgasm, and I had to have it. I needed it. Wanted it!

"Yes..." I whispered. "Do it..."

They did not recognize me because they never said anything to make me think so. So I bit my lip to stop myself from making any further sounds as my body spasmed once more.

"I'm gonna cum..." I heard him grunt as he pounded inside me for all he was worth.

The sensation made me gasp yet again, only silently this time as I felt him stiffen as he held me in place, impaled on his magnificent hardness. Oh no! he was cumming in me!

I was still on the pill. But another man was cumming in me. Where no one had done so in two decades other than my husband. Oh shit! What would Randy think of me now? So much for reconciliation if he saw this - me like this. Suppose he saw another man unloading his thick man juice in my depths. What would he do? And my own son the witness of it!

"Dude," I heard my son say from next to me. "That was awesome. Celia, you are something else!"

'Shut the fuck up Clyde,' I wanted to scream.

"Hey Cel," Chris finally said, pulling away. "I'll see you downstairs. OK?"

"U-hum," I managed to say again, waving them away and keeping my face in the coats.

"Unbelievable," I heard my son say. "The bathroom is across the hall, Celia."

As if I didn't know where it was.

And then I heard the door shut, and everything was dark again.

***

What was that!

What had just happened!

As soon as the door closed, I stood and locked it behind them. The room smelled of pussy and cum. Anyone who walked in to get their coats would be treated to an unmistakable smell of recent sex. Rushing quickly, I opened the two windows to air the bedroom out. The cold air, as well as the realization of what had happened, began to sober me.

Then I felt myself leaking down my legs. A mix of my pussy secretions and Chris's not-so-thick semen - that was dripping out of me.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

Chris's cum in me? Oh, God!

How would I explain what I did to my husband? But wait. Why did I have to? Why did he have to know? We were separated, and he had been screwing his coworker. He probably still was. So, why was I feeling guilty?

And then it hit me. Why indeed? Why at all?

Randy and I were separated. We were one step away from divorce. He had left me - dumped me for his blond slut Marcia. I owed him no explanations. Yes, he and I were in couples therapy and talking about possible reconciliation. But nothing was definite. Meanwhile, my possibly-ex-husband was still fucking his Marcia. She wanted him to come back to me so they could continue their cheating sex ritual - and probably get off on that.

And what had just happened? I had to sort that out. Because... because this had been the best sex of my life. Ever!

Leaving the window open, I rushed down the hall to my master bathroom. Cum was dripping down both my legs, even with my panties pulled up over my flooded and violated opening. I felt raw yet remarkably content and satisfied as I had not been in ages.

Yes, the sex had been mindless and loveless. Unlike when Randy and I had shared some fantastic lovemaking sessions during our marriage. Something that this evening could not compare to. That close and love connection was apples and oranges compared to what I had just experienced. One was emotional and caring. This... this had been raw, animalistic fucking. Something I had never experienced before. Close maybe, but not to this intensity.

***

I had been gone too long. My family or the guests would wonder where I had been -- or worse, what I had been doing. In the bathroom, I strained to push as much of Chris's cum out of me as I could, wiped myself twice, and flushed it away. A shower would have to wait.

As I checked myself in the mirror, I questioned what had just happened in the spare room. I was still numb, and it was all too fresh for me to process. Any further introspection would have to wait.

After opening the door, my ears were assailed by loud music, conversation, and laughter.

More people were attending than I had expected. Primarily friends of my kids but a few older neighbors as well. It had gone on for some time, and my daughter seemed to be the life of the party. Playing hostess in my absence, I presumed. I wondered if my husband had made an appearance, but that too would have to wait. I was more concerned with the events earlier to notice until later.

What caught my attention was my son dressed as a zombie and Chris as a vampire talking animatedly to a young woman. She was dressed in a witch outfit remarkably similar to mine. The young men began to stare at me as they spoke to the young witch. This didn't look good.

Not wanting a confrontation, I mingled with the guests, chatting and listening here and there as a good hostess was supposed to do as I resumed my duties. Yet my mind was preoccupied with what I had allowed my son's friend to do to me.

It was not planned for sure, but I could have stopped it when I felt his hand on my behind as I bent over. I had changed underwear and washed down there but still felt his semen leaking out of me -- wetting my fresh panties.

I caught Chris's gaze a couple of times. He had been watching me with a quizzical look as if something puzzled him. His piercing eyes made my body feel warm and alive. Had he figured it out? That young woman dressed as a witch. Had that been the Celia they talked about? Of course, it was. Who else would it be?

So that was it. I had been fucked by mistake. A mistaken identity fuck. Good luck selling that to my husband. The one fucking the Marcia bimbo. The hell with explaining to him.

I had just been screwed to oblivion by a young stud, and he was staring at me. Looking around, I saw no other women in witch outfits. Not even something remotely close. He had to know. And he was staring again!

Oh, to be desired and wanted again after all these years! Did he want me again? Did I?

Chris was standing alone as he gazed at me. Gone was the young witch and my son. My son!

In my thinking of the young man I had let fuck me, I had forgotten of my son. How could I forget that Clyde had been witness to my act of debauchery?

"You having fun, mom?" my daughter's voice broke my reverie.

"Oh, yes... how about you?" I managed to reply, looking away from a smiling Chris.

"Not as much as you, apparently," my daughter smirked.

"What!"

I froze, staring wide-eyed at my amused daughter.

"Clyde told me," she replied. "Chris and our Clyde thought you were Celia Lunders."

Christ! Now I remembered who Celia was. Her mother was the soccer association president. She was a big blabbermouth. If her daughter told her, my indiscretion would be all over our neighborhood.

I was stunned to silence. My kids knew! They both knew!

"Mom, are you OK?" Bonnie asked, maintaining her grin. "I tell you. And you were worried about us 'youngsters' acting up."

Had my daughter just mocked me by doing air quotes at youngsters? Yes, she had. As if I was some old maid or something.

"What did he tell you?" I replied apprehensively.

"Oh, that Chris thought you were Celia in the spare bedroom and had his way with you. Mom, dogie style? Nice."

"Shut up, Bonnie," I replied nervously. "I'm trying to think. Is your father here?"

"No, mom, you lucked out there. Dad tried to get a hold of you and called me to say he was not coming over."

"He is probably with his bimbo Marcia," I blurted out without thinking that Bonnie didn't know about her father's indiscretions.

But from her reaction, I thought otherwise.

"So you know?" she asked.

"Yes," I nodded. "How did you... how did you know?"

"I'm not a child mom and dad was not very careful. I heard him talking to her on his cell in the garden. Right under my window!"

"Ouch," I replied, shaking my head.

"How long have you known mom?"

"A year," I replied, looking away as I filled a glass with wine from the fridge.

"Can I have some of that?" a young man asked as he passed.

"No," I replied. "That's for stressed-out moms. Go get a beer."

Bonnie and I stared at each other after the young guy left. Before he did, my daughter had given him the once over... twice.