Brandon's Best Birthday Ever

The bartender, a perky blonde sporting so much cleavage that even Darla couldn't look away from it, asked what they'd like. She had to lean in to be heard, which only helped to push her boobs in Brandon's face. Darla saw the girl was flirting with her son and didn't like it. It was a reminder that he was a man now, which made Darla feel old. It didn't feel like it was so long ago when she was the one flirting with young men—not that she ever showed as much cleavage as the bartender had on display. Darla liked being sexy but didn't believe she had to throw everything out there to accomplish that.

"We need some shots. What's good?" Brandon announced.

"Depends on what you are in the mood for. What do you like?" the bartender said. Darla swore the woman gave her tits a little jiggling shake. The bartender didn't mistake them for a couple, that was for sure.

Brandon slid his arm around his mother's waist and pulled her in close. It was a strangely possessive move, like he tried to show he was taken. "What do you think? What should we have?"

"I don't know about shots, Brandon. I haven't done a shot in..."

"Oh, stop it," he said, kissing his mother's cheek. He looked turned back to the bartender. "She's always complaining she's too old. I don't think so. I think she's perfect. What do you think?"

The bartender looked back and forth between them and Darla could see the calculation. The bartender smiled knowingly, and Darla knew exactly where her mind landed. Cougar. Darla felt her cheeks heat up for the second time tonight as she and her son were mistaken for a couple again—only this time it was Brandon's fault and it was intentional. What was he playing at? Maybe the girl wasn't his type—Darla couldn't see why that would be—and he was trying it put her off. Whatever the reason, Darla felt trapped and didn't know how to react. Brandon used her moment of confusion to order them two shots of Fireball. The busty bartender momentarily disappeared and returned to set two overflowing shot glasses down in front of them. Darla reluctantly paid her.

Brandon held a shot out to Darla, but she didn't take it. "Come on, Mom," he said.

"Brandon...I don't know...one of us still has to drive tonight," she complained.

"You'll be sober in plenty of time. It's my 21st birthday. You're not going to deny me, are you? Don't be a buzzkill."

Darla sighed and took the shot. "Fine, just this one."

"Perfect." Brandon was all smiles as he snatched up his own shot. "To me, of course." The chinked their glasses together, and he added, "And the coolest mom in the world."

"To my wonderful son," she said, taking a deep breath and tossing back the shot. She knew sipping it would make it worse.

Darla coughed as the amber liquid scorched its way down her throat. The heavy cinnamon flavor was cloying and added a second layer of burning on top of the alcohol. She took a deep breath as she recovered and found that at least her sinuses were cleared. Warmth spread through her chest and Darla felt like she was glowing. She had to admit it, she liked the feeling.

"You knocked that back like a champ, Mom," Brandon said. He looked like the shot hadn't affected him at all.

"It said it's been a while. I didn't say I didn't know how to do a shot." She laughed.

"Were you a shots girl back in the day? Let me guess, Rumplemintz?"

Darla stuck out her tongue. "Yuck, that's like drinking mouthwash. I don't know how anyone can stand that. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I did a lot of Goldschlager shots back in college."

"No reason to be ashamed about that. How many could you handle?"

"I don't know, Brandon. I wasn't counting. We just drank while we were out. You know how it is. But I could hold my own. I think most kids would be shocked if they could see what their parents were like when they were young, before they were parents."

"You're still young, Mom. You've still got it."

"With the way you're laying it on tonight, I swear you're going to ask me for money." Darla laughed.

"Nope, Mom. Just telling it like it is."

Darla was uncomfortable with her son's compliments and changed the subject. "Anyway, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, and I would love to see it. I've seen some pictures. You were a cute little coed."

"Really, honey. Stop it. You don't want me getting a big head," Darla chided.

"I mean it, Mom."

"Whatever, Brandon."

The effects of the shot were wearing off, but Darla still felt tingly from the shot and she couldn't wipe the smile off her face. The compliments were nice, even if they were from her own son. She dated a couple big jocks like him back then. She'd always liked bigger guys. There was something about the way they towered over her that revved Darla's motor.

"Here you go. I ordered your drink," Brandon said, holding out a fresh shot. She didn't even notice him order a second round.

"You've got to be kidding me. I am not letting you get me drunk, Brandon."

"Hey, you're the one who told me you could handle your shots."

"25 years ago! I've gone through a few changes since then!" Darla couldn't help laughing.

"You've only gotten better, Mom."

"If I do this shot, will you stop?"

"Only one why to find out." Brandon was smug.

Darla took the shot from his hand and downed it, not even waiting for Brandon to take up his own. The sickly-sweet burn of the Goldschalger was familiar, like an old friend, yet her resistance was low because she wasn't used to it and Darla stuck out her tongue as she coughed. Her eyes even watered. She watched her son down his shot seamlessly and envied his youth. He watched her with amusement, which only made her cheeks burn hotter.

"That is the last one. I mean it, Brandon," she said, voice noticeably huskier.

"Okay, Mom. You can't handle your booze anymore. I get it."

"Nice try, young man, but you're not going to goad me into this."

The warmth spread from her cheeks and down her chest, stronger than from the first shot, and Darla felt lighter. She definitely wasn't drunk, but she was feeling the cumulative effect of the shots after her couple glasses of wine at dinner. She would call it tipsy. It was nice. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed being a little tipsy as she rarely drank to excess these days. She'd always loved the warm, giddy feeling. Some people get angry or combative when they drink too much. Some are excessively chatty. Drink had always made Darla happy and flirty—okay, maybe chatty too—and she enjoyed the social lubricant. She just never expected to be tipsy around her son. It was a strange sensation.

"Are you okay, Mom? Your cheeks are a little rosy there," Brandon said.

"I'm fine, Brandon. Just feeling pretty warm. Is it warm in here?"

Brandon laughed. "I don't think so. You were cold from the air conditioning when we got here. Do you want to take a walk and get some air?"

"I'd love to, but I don't know how much fun that would be for you."

"Don't worry, Mom. I know how to make my own fun."

Brandon took her arm and led Darla back through the casino floor. She was happy for the support. Her heels felt higher and more unstable when she walked. Darla still insisted to herself that she wasn't drunk—just tipsy. She did the alphabet backward in her head, just to confirm it to herself. She clung to Brandon's big, strong arm and decided she just liked being close to him.

"How about we make a bet?" Brandon suggested, stopping near a roulette table.

She eyed her son suspiciously. "What kind of bet?"

"I'm really interested in these college days you keep talking about. I'm going to lay down a chip, and if I win, you have to tell me anything I want to know."

"And if I win?" she asked.

"I don't know. What do you want?"

Darla thought hard, but she couldn't think of anything. She didn't want to know what her son was up to at college, that was for sure. Brandon was a good boy, but she suspected he was doing things a mother didn't need to know about.

"I don't know. I just want you to have a good time."

"Awesome. I can't lose then."

"I didn't agree to this," she said.

"But you said you want me to have a good time."

Brandon gave her those puppy dog eyes that always made her give in to him. Darla was particularly susceptible because she was cheery from the shots. What's the worst that could happen? she wondered. Brandon wouldn't ask her anything too crazy, would he? And she could always just say no—or lie. Darla was amused to think of what lies she could tell him. What could she get him to believe? Darla couldn't believe she was really considering this, but it could be fun, and she was in a fun mood.

"Okay, let's go. The odds are against you anyway," she said, although she knew almost nothing about roulette.

Brandon bought a small stack of chips and split them between 8 and 21. Darla was confident as the croupier closed the betting and spun the wheel. Brandon was eager as he watched the little white ball spin around the wheel and finally bounce into place. There were curses around the table, but not from Brandon. He whooped in celebration and thanked the croupier as he collected his winnings—his cash winnings.

"I guess you're all mine now, Mom," he said.

"Just remember I'm your mother."

They walked out of the casino and onto the boardwalk again. Brandon's arm went around her waist, his hand rested on her hip. It was strangely couple-like, but Darla was warm and tipsy, and she didn't think about it, but instead leaned into her tall, strong son. They made their way down the boardwalk until Brandon guided them into a covered pavilion facing the beach. They sat on benches in the first row, looking out at the dark waves crashing on the beach. Brandon's arm remained around her and Darla snuggled into him. It was a romantic moment, confusing Darla's tipsy mind. She didn't understand the things she was feeling.

"How wild of a partier were you in college?" Brandon asked.

Darla sighed. She was so relaxed and had almost forgotten about the silly bet. "Normal stuff. It wasn't that wild, but I wasn't a wallflower either," she replied.

"What was the craziest time you had?"

"I don't know. Nothing really stands out." Darla had a couple stories he might find crazy, but neither of them was appropriate to share with her son.

"That can't be true. I bet you were a fun party girl."

"Because I'm so wild now?"

Brandon stared at her, waiting for an answer.

"Fine, there was this one time we were hanging out with guys from Alpha Delta, we had a little too much to drink, and thought it would be a good idea to go skinny dipping. One of the guys worked in the athletic center and knew how to get in there at night and we all headed over. We played Marco Polo and did stuff like that It was silly and stupid, but it seemed like a lot of fun at the time."

"It was girls and guys?"

"Well, yeah. I guess there were maybe 10 of us."

"It wasn't just Marco Polo, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"A bunch of drunk guys and girls together? You guys had to be fooling around, right?"

"Brandon..."

"It's like you said, Mom. You were a normal girl back then. I'm sure some of those frat guys were good looking, and you were hot. There's no way nothing happened."

"I guess some people paired off. There was some making out," Darla stammered. She remembered what happened very well, but no way was she going to share those details with her son.

"Who did you make out with? This was before dad, right?"

"Yes, before I met your father."

"So who was the lucky guy?"

"Isn't this gross to you? You don't want to hear your mother talk about this stuff."

"I know you're not just my mother. I know you're a person and that you've had experiences. It doesn't bother me. I like it."

Darla was at a loss for words. She closed her eyes and that night came rushing back to her—Bobby Wilkins hands all over her slick, wet body in the pool. His hard cock bobbed against her. He boosted her onto the steps leading into the shallow end and went down her—even as Darla protested. There were so many people around. It was so wrong. But then he was kissing her pussy and her complaints turned to moans. Darla didn't want to think she was easy when she was drunk, but it made it hard to say no. She forgot about the others when Bobby Wilkins sucked on her clit and she didn't even notice his frat brother come over. He started touching her and Darla's eyes flew open. She weakly asked him to stop, but then he put her hand on his dick and she jerked him off. Right after she came, the boy—who's name was lost to time—came all over her big tits. The guys high-fived and Bobby Wilkins moved into position to fuck her. Darla was not a one-night stand kind of girl, but Bobby was really hot, and the situation was crazy, and she didn't want him to stop—not really. Others around them were fucking too and Darla went with it. Nowadays, those boys would be in trouble because she was drunk and they didn't stop at her weak complaints, but Darla was not raped. They were all drunk and having fun. It was the first time she was ever touched by two guys at once—something that wouldn't happen again for years. And it was the night she learned how much she liked a forceful guy.

"I know you're thinking about something, Mom," Brandon said, bringing her back to the present.

"And I'm not going to tell you, young man. I'm entitled to my secrets," she replied, hoping her smile hid the shiver of pleasure that shot through her body as she recalled that night so long ago.

"Fine. Maybe we should just recreate that night."

"What?" she blurted, louder than she intended. Luckily, they were alone in the pavilion and the ocean before them was loud enough to swallow the sound.

"Let's run down on the beach and go skinny dipping."

"You've lost your mind. I think those shots went right to your head."

"You're drunker than I am, Mom. Your cheeks are still rosy."

"I am not drunk. Just happy."

"So, let's do it."

"I am not skinny dipping with my son. You're nuts. We should probably go back to the casino."

Darla began to rise, but Brandon caught her arm and pulled her back to the bench. His vice grip held her fast. It took her breath away.

"Brandon, what are you doing? Let me go."

"The problem with secrets, Mom, is that they always come out. And I know yours."

Brandon pulled her in and deeply kissed his mother.

***

His mother pushed against him and resisted the kiss, but Brandon was persistent. With one arm around her body and one behind her head, he held her in place and worked his lips against hers. Gradually, her resistance eroded. She went from stiff-lipped to soft, and finally she kissed him back. It was a small, weak kiss, but it was a victory. He was kissing his mother and she was kissing him back.

Brandon had waited years for this moment. He'd fantasized about it happening so many ways. He'd thought about catching her in the laundry room and pinning her against the dryer and feeling her body melt against his. He'd pictured catching her changing and pushing her down on the bed. He'd even imagined watching a movie in their dark living room and kissing her out of the blue. In all his fantasies, she resisted at first, but then she wanted it. He had reason to believe she might react that way. And now he really was kissing his mother and it was happening just as he'd fantasized.

Brandon extended the kiss as long as he could before letting his mother come up for air. Even when he did, he kept her against him. She looked at him, eyes wide, lips trembling. Her face was impossible to read, and he was sure her emotions warred within her.

"Brandon, you can't kiss me like that," she said, trying—and failing—the sound angry.

"Why not? I've wanted to kiss you like that forever."

"You know why. What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, Mom. You're a sexy woman and I want you. It's pretty simple."

"No, it's not. It's wrong and you know it. I raised you better than that. Let me go."

"I will not. You're mine tonight. I'm going to possess you."

"Brandon, what are you talking about? Let me go this instant."

He not only didn't let her go, but Brandon kissed her again. She fought harder this time, locking her mouth tight and squirming to get away. Brandon was conflicted. He wanted his mother and he was going to make this happen, but he was not going to rape her. It was hard to find the line, given what he knew about her—what she did with his father. The solution was to push her buttons. He'd seen enough to figure out what they were.

Brandon laced his fingers through her pretty, thick chestnut hair and pulled, just enough to get her attention. His mother gasped, and when she opened her mouth his tongue slid right in. He feared she might bite it, but she didn't. He lightly pulled her hair again and she whimpered, finally kissing him back. He kept her head in a vice grip, keeping control, and the harder he held her, the harder she kissed him back. His mother was panting when he released her this time.

"Brandon...honey...please... This has to stop. You know this isn't right."

"You don't need to keep saying that, Mom. It's not going to change anything. My mind is made up."

"Why? Why would you want this?"

"Because you're the sexiest woman I know. You've been lonely since Dad, I know it. And I know what you need."

"How can you say that to your mother?"

"Because it's true. I know your secrets. I know what you did for dad, and now you'll do it for me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You guys should have been more careful. You didn't hide your secrets very well. I've seen the toys and the outfits. I've even seen the videos."

"Oh my god. Brandon..."

The shock on his mother's face pleased him, and blood surged to his cock, thickening it. Brandon rubbed a thumb across her lips, and he hoped she would suck it, like he'd seen her do before, but she was paralyzed. He saw her trying to work it out. It wasn't complicated. Brandon knew everything.

Brandon didn't like to admit it, but he knew his obsession with his mother made him a pervert. And like any perverted young man, Brandon eventually went through his parents' things. He wanted to see what kind of sexy lingerie she had. He thought he might find a toy or two, maybe some porn—that was perfectly normal. And he found some old DVDs. His parents were old enough to have been looking at porn before it was all on the internet. But he also found so much more.

The first clue that his parents' sex life wasn't just run-of-the-mill, suburban parents' stuff was when he found the plastic storage container at the back of their closet. It was hidden, but not well. Right on top was a leather collar with chain leash attached to it. The find was so strange that Brandon didn't know what to think of it. He'd watched plenty of porn—a lot of MILF stuff, obviously—but he didn't watch the hardcore BDSM stuff. But the paddle and the handcuffs clued him in to the truth. He had to learn what the other implements in the container were—things like a spreader bar, a ball gag, even a butt plug. They all sat beside an impressive array of sex toys. His parents were kinky as shit!

Brandon's young mind was blown and his obsession with his mother kicked into high gear. Every time he looked at his mother, he pictured her handcuffed and on her knees, pretty mouth waiting to receive him. He would have given anything to see the real thing. There had to be pictures or videos, right? A couple that kinky had to be filming themselves. Brandon scoured his dad's laptop every chance he got. He felt like a detective or a CSI. He didn't stop until he was rewarded with his holy grail. The files were buried deep in a system folder, but Brandon was dogged.

The images were shocking. Brandon desperately wanted to see her mother nude and fucking, but he wasn't quite prepared to see his dad's cock. It turned Brandon hostile to his father years before the affair that took him away from the family. And he wasn't ready to see his mother being tied down and used like a fuck toy. Brandon was jealous that his father used his mother like a personal sex toy. Once he saw how it could be, Brandon realized that he didn't just want to fuck his mother. He wanted to own her like his father did. The pictures were awesome, but he needed to see the videos. There were 10 videos in the folder. Brandon didn't think anything else could shock him, but the first video he opened turned his world upside down.