Home from the Party

The beginning was a bit blurry. A bit? Ha! I was blotto. Dave and Maggie, my heroes, somehow manhandled me out of their car and hauled me up the garden path to the house, where the front door was already beginning to open.

How did I come to be in this state? Well, we were all students, and students and alcohol tend to have this fairly easygoing relationship, as well as the fact that our gang needed little or no excuse to throw a party.

End of exams? Party!

Friday? Big party!

Winter solstice? Parteeee...!

Brian and Gemma break up? Say no more...party...!

Only thing is...I was Brian, and my breakup with Gemma had knocked me for six. The obvious solution in the eyes of my mates was to get me back on track a.s.a.p. The party they arranged was a barely concealed catwalk of new potential partners being paraded for my benefit in front of my increasingly unfocused eyes.

But it was no good. The alcohol did not have the desired effect. So while the crowd wandered off to dance and copulate, I continued to drown my sorrows. At some point I was lifted bodily like a rock star and transferred across a sea of hands out to Maggie's car, good old dependable designated driver Maggie, who I attempted to give a big kiss thank you to, but who recoiled in horror at my disgusting state.

I was thrown into the back to mutterings of, 'a towel, just in case', and '... if he throws up... he's your mate, you'll clean it...'

So now here we were, and the door was opening. In the light of the hallway stood the curvy outline of my mum, my gorgeous mum, not with a rolling pin in her hand thank heavens, but with arms crossed.

I imagined how I must look to her - a kind of mutant scarecrow, my arms draped across the shoulders of my pals, my feet dragging behind. I raised my eyes through a scraggle of hair to her lovely face.

"Penny for the Guy Fawkes, Missus?" and my head lolled back down.

Dave mumbled, "Pathetic" into my ear and they heaved me up into the hallway while Mum stood back, her housecoat wrapped around her ample bosom.

"Where do you want him, Mrs. Denton?"

"Well, let's see, there's a rubbish bin out the back, but the collection's not till Tuesday and he'll stink by then...even more so... just put him down on the floor for now, would you?"

"Righto."

And with that I was dumped unceremoniously onto the hall carpet.

I heard them exchanging a few pleasantries and I could see they were all smiles, Mum included. Yay, did that mean I'd gotten away with it then? Maybe I could sneak into that cubbyhole under the stairs and she wouldn't notice and she'd go back to bed and I'd get up bright and early and...

The door slammed shut. A firm grip on my collar abruptly ended my crawl on hands and knees towards the cubbyhole.

"Not so fast, you."

I was dragged backwards and set with my back to the wall. Mum leant over me, her housecoat now open, revealing a delicate white negligee beneath. As she bent over me, her breasts hung forward, unencumbered as they were by any bra. Damn my blurry eyes! Focus them!

"Hello Mummy..."

"Don't you 'Hello Mummy' me, young man. God, just look at you... no, don't look at you, it'll make you puke...What am I going to do with you?"

"Is that a shpe... a shpesh... that a particular question relating to my present qu...umm, quandry? Or is it a more general observation? Like, 'what's life?'" I looked up at her, with my best innocent face, probably blinking far more rapidly than I intended. Then I looked down at her chest and my blinking increased.

Mum pulled her housecoat together at the top and looked me straight in the eye - my left one, I think.

"What has she done to you, you poor boy? Ah, she never deserved you anyway... Come on then, we're going to have to get you up into the shower and then off to bed... somehow... mmm, I should have thought of that before your mates left. So you'll have to help me out here... oof, you're like a sack of potatoes..."

"You can call me 'Spud'..."

She leant over and stretched her arms out underneath my shoulders and pulled. Her housecoat had dropped open again, and the only effect of her pulling was to thrust my head straight into the cushion of her lovely scented bosom. I dug my nose further into the chasm between her breasts and nuzzled.

"Now stop that! You're lucky you're pissed and not responsible...otherwise..."

"Otherwise you'd kiss me and...and let me hug you, and...?"

"I'd slap you."

"As in 'slap and tickle'?"

"As in a slap and a boot up the backside..."

"Ooh, that's kinky you know...snot my thing though. Did I say snot? I don't mean snot's my thing...I'm losing track here... I prefer the more straightforward stuff with a busty lady... yourself comes to mind..."

"Me? I thought Gemma's your type?"

"Yeah, but she's not you..."

Wow, out of the mouths of drunks...

All this time, Mum had been somehow tugging and hauling me to the foot of the stairs.

Now she stood back, brushing the disheveled wavy hair out of her eyes, observing me, a strange smile at the corners of her mouth, breathing hard with the effort to get me this far.

"Isn't that just my luck. I get compliments from this great guy and he turns out to be both drunk and my own son... Jeez..."

"So write it down ver...b... verbatim... and I'll repeat it to you when I'm sober..."

She just looked at me and, with some kind of tutting noise, said, "Ha! Yeah, right..."

We both turned and looked upwards to the top of the stairs... oh what a long way... and all uphill.

"That's a helluva long way, Mum..."

Mum sighed.

"Don't think for one minute I'm going to try and carry you up there."

"Well let me carry you then..." I managed to swivel myself into a sitting position and stretched my arms out, grasping her by her calves. I tried lifting, but my hands just slid up to the smooth skin above the backs of her knees.

"Oops."

She just stood there laughing, with my hands pulling at the back of her legs, her hands resting on my shoulders. She allowed her knees to bend and was then squatting in front of me, our eyes almost level. One hand came round and stroked my hair away. Why was she looking at me like that?

"You're so lovely," stroke, stroke, "I can see your dad in you," stroking my cheek, around my ear.

"He was a drunken pig as well, then?"

"Well, you stink like a pig, but you're delicious..."

"I'm an acquired taste..."

Then she leant forward and kissed me on my nose, my forehead, and a quick peck on my lips.

"I'd give you tongue but you'd probably throw up all over me..."

Had I imagined she'd said that? When you're drunk you can have brief moments of absolute clarity, can't you, and I'm sure that was one of these moments...or maybe not though...?

She stood up again, still ever so close. Her housecoat remained open, her flimsy negligee on full view. It came down to just below where my hands were still embracing her legs. I could see them disappearing up into the folds. Yes, I could see my arms through the white silky material, just as I could clearly see her legs, rising and widening upwards until the dark patch of a mound pushing the negligee outwards at the base of her stomach marked her unattainable womanhood.

Now this WAS clarity, and for that moment my stupor dissolved and it was as though I was observing Mum's thatch in glorious Hi-Definition, noting the vertical indentation and the individual spiky hairs penetrating the material. I was struck by how well-tended it appeared. I looked up into Mum's face and she was gazing down at me with some sort of emotion in her eyes...love? I reached out my hand, but with that movement, the spell was instantly broken and Mum pulled away from me.

"OK then, let's try and sort this out, shall we?"

My hand dropped back to my side.

"I think it might be best if you try and crawl up the stairs on all fours... I'll be right behind you to support you... you think you can do that?"

"'Course I can..."

Left hand, right hand, left one again... My hands were making good progress, but the rest of my body didn't seem all that bothered about keeping up... until I was lying like a plank on the stairs, my feet still rooted to the bottom.

"Houston, we have a problem..."

"I think maybe it's time for that slap I promised you..."

She brought her hand down hard on my backside, but instead of it urging me upwards, my only response was,

"Ooh...! Don't forget to tickle me as well. I love that..."

There was a snort of laughter from behind me, and then Mum's two hands pushing on my bum, her grunting, the whole weight of her body seemingly behind the effort. Still I didn't move - apart from me twitching my buttocks in her grasp. She in return pinched them hard.

"Mum, that's foreplay..."

"If that's foreplay to you, I think you need a few lessons, boyo..."

"Yes I do...indeed I do...doodoodedoo... Will you teach me? 'bet you're a great teacher... you already know how to spank..."

There was silence for a moment. Then Mum clambered up across me, using my head as leverage, and I saw her bare feet climbing to the top of the stairs. I raised my head.

She stood there at the top, an enigmatic smile across her face and her legs apart in Wonder-Woman mode. Her hands rested on her hips, jutting them forwards and holding her housecoat open so that her whole negligee'd body was on display. Then she slowly started to hum. She didn't take her eyes off me. Then, "La lala lalaaa..." Her body began to sway in time to her own rhythm, her eyes half closed. Her hands came down to her thighs where she gently caressed them, then up again, threatening to bring the negligee with it and to expose herself. But at the last moment it was released and it slid back into place. One hand began to explore over her body. It drew a line down from her cleavage to her navel where she splayed her fingers and rubbed them across her belly. She closed her eyes completely but didn't lose the smile.

"Lalalaleee..." Her hand came up and cupped first one breast, and then the other. Then with her index finger she made small circular motions around the dark areola. The index finger of her other hand came up and attended to the other nipple. Her head was now thrown back, her hips were rolling, and her fingers, one clockwise one anti-clockwise, were teasing her nipples to erection.

"Ladahdadadadee..."

She was building to a crescendo and she had my full attention.

Then she was looking down at me. Her smile no longer the friendly sort, it was that of a temptress, a predator - purely sexual. It was daring me to act...

Slowly, still humming her song of enchantment, she let the housecoat slip from her shoulders. Her eyes fixed on mine as it dropped to the floor, but my attention was now drawn to her figure, because the light, above and behind her, served to throw her whole body into sharp silhouette. Her legs still wide apart, I viewed the tops of them where they didn't quite come together in a point, but rather ended in a subtle ripple between them. Was this my first view of her pussy lips? From that shady junction, her legs curved down and burst forth from the flimsy material which might as well have not existed... her slim waist, one hand on her hip, the other toying with her hair... her breasts swaying hypnotically in time to her lilting melody. My body had lifted off the stairs and, although still on all fours, it had positioned itself into more of a crouch.

She descended a few stairs towards me, pointing her toes downwards as she did so, swinging her hips expansively. Down another couple of stairs and she was now just two steps above me and I had to crane my neck to take her all in. I was like a dog under its master's control, waiting eagerly for an order. She smiled down at me through the valley between her breasts and bent over towards me. In that low-cut scrap of silk her breasts looked as if they were going to jump up and overboard from a sinking ocean liner. Then she reached a hand out towards me, turned it, and crooking one finger, beckoned me upwards.

I might possibly have said 'Woof', my tongue might have been hanging out and I might have been drooling saliva for all I was worth, but as she turned away from me, swinging the globes of her ass full into my face and undulating her way slowly back upstairs, it did the trick.

Somehow, now how did that happen? I was at the top of the stairs, while my head was still nuzzling around at her feet. I might possibly have licked at them, who knows...? It could be I howled like a wolf...I might have yelped like a mongrel... but I do remember looking up and seeing my owner was satisfied. She even bent over and scratched me behind the ear.

At least she didn't pat me on the head.

"Well that's phase one done and dusted... Now, shower. Mmm, something tells me this'll be fun... You think you can stand? Maybe try and crawl up that wall a bit..."

My fingernails grasped at the wall but only succeeded in knocking over an ornament stand, with Mum doing well to catch the ornament, and pulling a picture down from its hook.

"Oh well, I didn't really like that picture anyway...it was your granddad insisted we take it...he probably hated it as well..."

But I was there now - I was holding the wall up, that funny, rubbery wall. I felt my way along it towards the bathroom. Luckily the door was ajar, because I tumbled right in.

Mum was close behind me, muttering something about never having a camera when you really need one. I noticed she hadn't put her housecoat back on.

"OK, get over to the toilet and sit on it while we get you out of those clothes, you smell like a brewery..."

I crawled over to the toilet bowl, but my body apparently realized that it could now finally get rid of some of that queasiness it had been sensing for the last while and a half. It was as though the sight of the water in the bowl acted as a suction pump, and suddenly my whole stomach was being turned inside out... I retched... and retched...and, what the hell, I retched some more. And it's strange when you're resting with your jaw on the edge of the toilet while waiting for the next inevitable heave. You have the odd interval where you can observe your own personal diet from the last twenty-four hours or so. And they're quite correct in that old joke - you never do remember having eaten that carrot, but, yup, there it is, taunting you...

I probably passed out for a while, because the next thing I remember was Mum flushing the bowl, even scouring it with the toilet brush, and my cheek being semi-glued to the sticky bathroom floor.

"All out then, is it? Well, better out than in... Now take this and use it," she handed me a toothbrush, all ready prepared with a striped toothpaste, "and then let's see about getting you into the shower."

She unstuck my cheek from the floor, dropped the toilet lid and somehow heaved me up onto it. I stuck the toothbrush into my mouth and jiggled it around a bit before Mum took over the duty like when I'd been a kid, showing me the correct way to brush - circular motion, inside, outside, don't forget the gums... She held a cup of water up to my mouth and I swirled it around a few times before spitting out into the sink. Well, at least in the direction of the sink... Then I took a couple more gulps before sprawling back against the cistern.

"Right then..."

"Mum?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I going to remember any of this in the morning...?"

"Oh, I really, really, hope not..."

"But why, Mum? I do want to remember. I want to remember how lovely you look and how sexy you are and how you should be giving me a rollocking bollocking but you're not, you're being so nice to me, and... did I mention how sexy you are...?"

"You did. Thanks. It's appreciated. Doesn't do me much good, but it's appreciated."

She had this great smile as she knelt in front of me and undid my shoes and pulled my socks off. And I could savor her delicious scent as she leaned up to unbutton my shirt and ease it down my arms and off my back. And how her arms stroked around my chest. And I could sense her hesitation before she reached for my belt to unbuckle it.

"You'll have to, umm, stand up so I can get your trousers off..."

Strangely, I had no problem at that moment just simply lifting myself up from the seat and, albeit swaying ever so slightly, standing there in front of her, her face level with the top button and the zipper of my pants. With a determined look, brushing the hair away from her eyes, she reached up and flicked open the button. On a whim, I reached out and stroked through her hair, smoothing it down over her ears, holding her head in both hands. She glanced up.

"I'm supporting myself."

I averted my gaze, I think, partly for my own sake, because I found myself looking straight down into the top of her negligee. I savored those exposed tan-lines - had her bikini been that small? I loved the fact that one thin strap of the negligee had fallen away from her shoulder and one breast was doing its very best to pop out. That breast was like a deliciously smooth, three-layer ice-cream - the bronzed milk chocolate area where she'd been exposed to the sun, then that area of creamy vanilla that had remained covered, and finally the dark chocolate area that I could just see, where her skin started to darken around her nipple. I fully supposed it to be tipped by a chocolate button...

So I looked straight ahead. And why not? In the full mirror opposite I could see her there on her haunches in front of me, the thin material drawn tautly across her smooth white ass - all the whiter for that dark vertical crack between her cheeks. Again I marveled at how small that bikini must have been... half her ass must have been on show that summer. Where had I been when she was wearing it? I closed my eyes and my imagination saw us frolicking together on the beach, her in her bikini running away from me into the water in a fit of giggles and me catching up with her and pulling her underneath the waves for a submerged kiss...

I was jolted back to the present when I sensed how she had now taken hold of the one side of my trousers and reached for the zip with the other hand. That zip seemed to take a long time coming down. I didn't remember it being so problematic, but it seemed to be making a slow click...click...click noise as it made its tortuous descent. Was Mum actually drawing this out? And was it for her pleasure or for mine? I felt my trousers being drawn apart and then being pulled down, all this in slow-motion. Maybe this is what being drunk does to you? It gives a false sense of the passing of time?

My trousers were now below my knees and I felt how Mum had leant backwards to get the sight of my boxer shorts into their proper perspective. She made a low, kind of guttural, noise. I think it was appreciative...

Then I felt her hands at my waist, inserting them under the waistband of my shorts at the back, to cup my cheeks before bringing them round towards the side and drawing them slowly down, first from behind, over my ass. Yes, it was slowly! No, I wasn't mistaken, I'm sure...

I felt how the elastic of the shorts, when she released it, cushioned my butt underneath, and then Mum's fingertips had tiptoed round to the front. She seemed to take a deep breath, exhale, and then pulled down. I wish I could say my dick sprang up and out in the manly fashion you read about so much in erotic fiction, but I was sloshed, remember. Even so, after Mum had released it, nothing seemed to happen for a while, so I finally dared to take a glance down. Mum's nose was only about an inch or so from my cockhead and she was gazing at it intently. If I'd managed somehow to get a look into her face I'm sure I'd have found her almost cross-eyed trying to focus on it. She tilted her head to one side. Then to the other. And then back again. She pushed my pants and trousers further down towards my ankles, and this action brought her head a little bit further forward. How much? Well, about that inch which had previously been separating her nose from my dick.