In the Glory Hole

"Lots. And don't ask me for details."

They spent the morning catching up; his dad's health, hers, the book club, the Meals on Wheels, the pleasantly tedious minutiae of suburban life. Lupe, Sheila's cook, showed up at eleven to fix lunch. She greeted Andy ecstatically with open arms; "Mi bebé, mi pequeño amor!" Andy stepped into the embrace, lifted the small woman off her feet and spun er around. Andy's back was to his mother, but the patio door gave her a good view of the other side of the hug. She saw him take her cook's ass in both hands and give it a firm, possessive squeeze. I wonder, she thought.

It was a sunny, brutally hot August day that promised a warm night. Mother and son swam in the pool and warily took some sun, with many breaks to smear themselves, and each other, with SPF 60. Andy, who usually wore knee-length surfer trunks, opted for a black Speedo. His mother resisted the temptation to stare at his bulge and run her hands all over his beautiful body; instead, she contented herself with applying lotion to his heavily muscled back, from his neck all the way down to the elastic of his bathing suit.

Sheila, in turn, didn't wear her usual white tank suit with the Red Cross Lifesavers Badge, but rather a tiny red bikini that Al had bought her. It wasn't quite a string bikini, but the tiny ribbon of fabric between her legs left ninety percent of her ass cheeks exposed. "Need to get some sun of my butt," she explained airily. "Bad place to get pimples." Her son had agreed. When he was applying lotion to her back he also put a dab on each cheek, tentatively. Receiving no reaction from her, he rubbed it in and moved down to her legs. She spread her legs and made no comment as he anointed the inside of her thighs, right up to the fabric-covered mound of her pussy.

In due course they slid the loungers out of the sun and into the shade of two large umbrellas. Sheila brought tall glasses of iced tea, covered with condensation, while Andy set up a fan to move the stifling air. They sprawled in the shade, sipped the tea, and talked about the future.

"So," she asked. "Any career plans?" Shortly after enrolling at UCB Andy had changed his major from engineering to liberal arts; "All the math was eating into my party time." His parents had been understandably concerned about his future.

"Strange," Andy said, "but I've already got several options. You know, Dad has more connections than AT&T."

"I know. But then again, he's big in the Electrician's."

"True. Anyway, in my first semester, I started getting dinner invitations from all these old, rich guys. Then I started getting invitations from their trophy wives -- lunches in town, mixers at the country club, all sorts of stuff. At first, I was afraid they wanted to set me up with their daughters, but no. They were interested in me. They introduced me to their friends as their tennis coach, their swimming coach, their coworker at some charity or another. Smiles and winks and nudges all around."

Sheila laughed. "Don't tell me ---"

"I'll tell you nothing you don't need to know. I'll just say this. The old farts, their husbands, are offering me jobs in their various corporate offices after I graduate; in New York, Miami, London, even Cape Town. One even offered to get me into Harvard Business." He paused, grinned. "All places far, far away from the Bay area."

"And their wives."

"Right." They both laughed, but Sheila was thinking. This explains a lot. In terms of sexual experience, he's twenty going on fifty.

"But lately," Andy continued, "I've decided I'd like to stay closer to home. I'm going to ask Dad if he can find me something here in LA. I want to spend more time with my mom and dad. Growing up, I never really knew what interesting people they were. Know what I mean?"

"Yes. Yes, I certainly do." Sheila felt herself blushing all over.

Andy looked at her, did a double take, then leaned in for a closer look. "Looks like we got you out of the sun just in time, Mom," he said. "Suddenly, you're as red as a beet."

That evening, Lupe set up their dinner on the pool deck and disappeared. Andy was wearing shorts, a USB T-shirt, and sandals; Sheila, a shirtwaist sun dress with a bright floral print and deck shoes. A light breeze rippled the surface of the pool and luffed the umbrellas.

Andy had requested his favorite meal, coq au vin with plenty of garlic. A bottle of rosé cooled in an ice bucket next to the table. "White wine supposedly goes with chicken, but the chicken is cooked in red wine, so I decided rosé would be a nice compromise," Sheila explained. "By the way, does your father let you drink?"

Andy just snorted and held out his glass. He took a sip and declared it drinkable. "By the way, rosé is one of Dad's favorites. He says it's the best wine for the sixty-nine position, because it goes with both meat and fish."

Sheila stared at him, frozen.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Andy said, smiling. "I'm getting out of role. I'm supposed to pretend that my parents are asexual beings. My bad."

Sheila studied his smile. She permitted herself a chuckle and took a sip of wine. "Well, Andrew, you certainly are all grown up now." Now it was his turn to freeze. "You drink wine and tell your mother dirty jokes. No, don't apologize, it is what it is."

"Andrew? You've only ever called me Andy, my whole life long."

"Well, now that you're a man, I've decided you need a man's name."

He studied his food, took a bite, then another sip of wine. Sheila could see the wheels turning in his head. After a long minute he said, "You know, Mom, I thought I saw you in Hollywood last Saturday night."

This is it, she thought. Just say no, I was at home. And that's the end of it. Instead, she heard herself say, "Yeah, I was out with some girlfriends. Where do you think you saw me?"

"At a private club. One of several we visited."

Just say, we girls were only at a restaurant, she thought. Instead, she heard herself say, "How did you get into a private club without being carded?"

"When I'm with Dad I'm never carded."

"So why didn't you come over? Say hello?" You came over, but you never said hello.

"Well, you seemed to be having fun, and I decided that having your little boy show up would be a bit of a party-poop."

"Yeah, probably." Please God, she thought, just let it go.

"One thing I noticed, though," he said pensively. "You were wearing red tights or leggings or some such. I didn't think you owned anything like that. I thought the look was really hot."

"They weren't mine." Why am I saying this, she thought frantically. Why am I confessing? "I'd borrowed them from a friend."

"So they were stockings?"

Say you don't know what he's talking about. Say you've been humoring him What she said was, "Yes." Her voice was that of a frightened defendant being cross-examined in court.

"From one of the friends who were with you in -- the club?"

No! No! she thought. "Yes," she whispered.

Another long, searching look from her son. "Excuse me," he said, rising from the table, leaving Sheila frozen in place. He was back in less than a minute bearing a small, gift-wrapped box. "I looked all over town for your size."

Sheila unwrapped the box with trembling, nerveless fingers. Under the paper, a box from Adele's of Hollywood. Inside, a pair of thigh high stockings. Red stockings. Suddenly she was wet. I've been confessing because I want to, she thought. I want him. God help me, I want my son as a lover.

"They're lovely, Andrew. Would you like me to wear them for you?" They stared deeply into each other's eyes. I'm doomed, she thought. Doomed.

"I'd like that very much, Sheila." The word hung in the air. He had never, ever called his mother by her first name.

"So now I'm 'Sheila' instead of 'Mom.'"

"Seems appropriate, don't you think? Since we're dealing with other as adults?"

"When would you want me to wear them, Andrew?"

"Right now would be nice, Sheila my dear."

"Where?"

"Well, it's a warm night. How about right here?"

The pool area was surrounded by a six-foot wall with high trees on the other side. The light was almost gone from the late-summer sky. Sheila heard the pool pump come on, heard the water gurgle, smelled a whiff of chlorine. She saw every detail with razor-sharp clarity because she had lost her mind. Her brain had turned control over to her body, to do what her body needed to do, while she remained an innocent, helpless observer. I can't help myself, God. The thing is bigger than I am.

Eyes locked with his, she stood and stepped away from the table. She slowly, deliberately unbuttoned her dress and let it drop to the pool deck. She stepped out of it, removed her size 30A bra, and dropped it on top of the dress. He studied her hard pink nipples. "When did you get them pierced, Sheila?" he asked.

"Shortly after my divorce, Andrew. Do you like them?"

"I like them very much."

"Want to touch?" she asked. Her tone was the same as it had been years ago, back when she had asked the boy Andy if he wanted to lick out the bowl of cake frosting.

"Yes, I would."

"So come here and touch."

She stood motionless as he walked to her, circled her, then wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing the nape of her neck and cupping her breasts in his hands. She closed her eyes and sighed. He slowly stroked her hard nipples, and she rewarded him with a shiver and a groan. "Good technique, Sir. And where did you learn these moves?"

"From my friends in San Fran. Before that, from my father's thousand-buck-an-hour escorts. He told them, 'Teach this boy everything he'll ever need to know in order to make a woman happy." He trailed a fingertip down her belly toward her wet panties.

"So they taught you how to buy jewelry?"

A chuckle. "They tried. All I'd ever give them was bling for their nipples and pussies." The fingertip arrived at its target. Sheila reached behind her, found his bulging crotch and squeezed it. He had a massive erection.

"We have a problem," she said. "This deck surface would wreck the stockings. I need appropriate shoes."

"Such as?"

"My white strap-back stilettos. On the second shelf of my closet. And bring towels, too."

"We're going swimming?"

"Eventually."

He was back in five minutes. He was carrying the shoes, two towels and a bottle of lube. He had also managed to shed his clothes in record time and was also completely nude, his massive cock bobbing in front of him. The pool lights had come on, bathing the backyard scene in an aquamarine glow. A night bird whistled in one of the trees.

Sheila performed a slow striptease on the sun lounger, removing her wet panties (Andrew sniffed them appreciatively), and donning the stockings and shoes. "Sit there," she commanded, pointing to a deck chair. Starting in front of him, she strutted slowly and provocatively around the pool, giving him an excellent view of her body from every angle. When she had completed the circuit he tried to stand, but she pushed him back into the chair. "My club, my rules," she said, moving closer and spreading her legs wide. "Eat."

He went straight for the clit. After a few minutes she broke it off, grabbed a beach towel and spread it on the grass next to the pool deck. "We were in the water only an hour ago," she said, kneeling on the towel with her ass high in the air. "So we're clean. Rim me. Until I tell you to stop." He did while she trembled. After ten minutes: "Go get the wine and take a drink. Disinfect your mouth. Then come back and finish eating me out. All the way out. And don't be so single-minded about the clit."

He began on the insides of her thighs, moved to her belly, nibbled her engorged labes and sucked them between his lips, then worked his way up her vaginal cleft to her clit. From time to time he stuck his tongue into her pussy as far as he could, remarking on the quantity and quality of the grool he found there. "So deliciously salty sweet. Nectar of the gods. I could eat this and live forever."

"If this is what you learn in a liberal arts program, I approve."

He lay on his back and she mounted him, taking his cock a fraction of an inch at a time. "No, don't wiggle. Just lie there." Her cervix encountered his dick head and she made little circles, grinding against it. She arched her back, reached backwards to put her hands on his knees and stared at the stars, giving him the full frontal view. "Put your hands on my boobs. Twist the nipples. Harder. That's perfect. Oh sweet Jesus. Oh God yes. Oh yes." She felt him throbbing as he deposited his load.

She sprawled on top of him, panting, his half-hard cock still inside her. "What were those pills you were taking, back in the club?" she muttered into his shoulder.

"Three of them. Viagra, Dexedrine and Ecstasy."

"Got any?"

His massive chest rumbled with laughter. "Of course. A whole bottle of each."

"Well, I don't think I'll need any Viagra, but I'll take a half Dexie and a love pill." She rolled off him. "Another thing. We barely touched our dinner. Take the plates and stick them in the micro for thirty seconds. Check on the wine."

"Yes, Milady. Will here be anything else, Milady?"

Sheila thought for a second. "Bring robes. And in the bottom drawer of my dresser, under the sweaters, you'll find a strap-on and a bottle of lube. Bring that."

"Fuck me."

"That's the idea."

They sat at the table under the umbrella, which they'd opened against the evening chill, devouring the coq au vin. The wine was still chilled, and Andrew filled their glasses. "When did you know?" he asked. "Back at the club?"

"When I heard your father talking to you. Saying things about me that only he could have known. Calling you 'son.'"

"And how did that make you feel?"

"I can't describe it. Panic-stricken. But I've also never been so hot. I saw your body, and I wanted you."

He laughed easily. "That's so sick."

"I know. When did you know?"

"For sure? Only tonight. Before that, I was only 90% sure. After Dad touched that scar where the mole used to be, and suddenly backed off. You see, he'd told me about that mole. That's when he knew who you were."

"And he didn't warn you off? Didn't say, 'Son, you're about to fuck your own mother?'"

"Nope. Not a word."

"Now that is sick."

"It seems to run in the family. But even if he'd told me, it wouldn't have made any difference. I've had wet dreams about you for years."

She laughed and took another sip of rosé. "Really?"

"It was inevitable. Your legs and ass in Spandex --perfect. I've always been a leg and ass man." They were sitting side by side at the table. Andrew slipped his hand under her robe and caressed her inner thigh. Sheila's face went slack with pleasure; the Ecstasy was working. She reciprocated, reaching under his robe to give his tumescent cock a proprietary squeeze.

"Let's get back into the pool," she said. "But first, let me strap my dick on. I'm going to spread those beautiful ass cheeks and ream you out."

"Sounds dirty," he said dubiously.

"We'll stand next to the skimmer."

****

They shared Sheila's king-sized bed. The sliding garden door was open, the sheers stirring in the warm breeze that brought with it the aromas of orange blossoms and automobile exhaust and the sound of distant freeway traffic. They lay in the spoons position, neither awake or fully asleep but rather in a drug-induced soft pink euphoria. His hard cock was deep inside her; he slowly rocked to and fro a fraction an inch, just enough to keep both of them stimulated. His left arm was under her neck, his left hand on a breast, and his right had was cupped over her vulva, slowly massaging it. They talked.

"Talk dirty to me," she said.

"You're perfection. Your aroma makes me hard. Your pussy drives me crazy. It's full of exotic stuff; velvet curtains, satin pillows, soft little fingers that tease my dickhead. I love your nipples. I want to play with them until they fill with milk, then suck them while you straddle my lap and ride my cock."

She chuckled. "I'm not going to start lactating for you. Not unless you're available to give suck four times per day. Full boobs ache like hell. What else?"

"You know things. I always thought I'd hate being fucked in the ass, but you made me love it. And I love your ass. I can't wait to fuck it again."

"So what's stopping you now?"

"Good question. Scoot a little to the left so I can reach the lube."

Still later. "You know, of course, there's a price to pay," she said. "Pleasure must be bought with pain."

He looked up from her pussy. "Well that's certainly true."

"So the question is, do we pay up front or in arrears?"

He was interested. "Pay as you go always seems to work. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I don't have any proper implements around here. I'll have to stop by Studly's Stockroom and pick something up. But I do have a nice sandalwood hairbrush."

"I seem to recall you used that on me when I was a kid."

"Only once or twice. When you were particularly bratty."

"So which of us goes first? If we're going to start paying for our sins tonight?"

"Ladies go first. Besides, I'm feeling particularly sinful."

Andrew rose from the bed and fetched the brush from a drawer of the vanity. "How many licks?" He slapped the palm of his left hand with the brush and winced.

"Give as many as you feel like getting. And never forget, payback is a bitch."

****

It was ten the next morning. Shelia sprawled spreadeagle on the bed, her wrists and ankles lashed to the bed frame with bungee cords Andrew had found in the garage. She was wearing the red stockings. Andrew sat on the bed next to her, thoughtfully working her nipples, belly, thighs and pussy with a plug-in vibrator. The session had been going on for two hours, and the vibrator was hot in his hand. The name of the exercise was Forced Orgasms. The count so far was seven.

Sheila was squirming, covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Her boobs, belly and thighs were pink from the hairbrush; her ass, which she's inspected in the mirror, was bright red. Andrew's ass was purple; payback had in fact been a bitch, and now he was feeling vengeful.

"Stop, please," she was pleading. "Really. Fun is fun, but enough is enough. You can't make me come again. You can't. I'll lose my mind. Please, please stop!"

"We agreed in advance, Sheila. Three hours. No safe words. No pity." He pressed the head of the vibrator down on her vulva, hard, as she rolled her head back and howled.

The bedside phone rang. He glanced at the display, recognized the number, and switched the vibrator off. "Looks like you get a break after all." He answered the phone.

"Hi, Dad. (pause) Yeah, I'm fine, how about you? (Pause) Yeah, I'm sure, why wouldn't I be? (Pause) I don't know what you're talking about, Dad. We ate dinner at Ruth's Chris, had a couple of beers at Sparky's, then went home. (Pause) Yeah, everything's great here. (Pause) Mom's fine, same as always. She's right here, want to talk to her?" (Pause) "Sure thing. Let me put us on speakerphone." He thumbed a button and put the phone on the bed. "Hey, Mom? Say hi to Dad."

Her expression said. "What the fuck are you doing?" Her cheerful voice said, "Good morning, Alvin. What a surprise, hearing from you."

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure Andy made it to your place OK."

"Well of course he did. I've lived here for twenty years, it's not like he'd get lost." Andrew gripped her like a bowling ball - two fingers in her pussy, thumb in her ass - and started squeezing.

"Well, that's great. What are you up to?"

Sheila gaped and rolled her eyes, but when she spoke, she managed to sound normal. "The usual stuff. We ate on the pool deck last night, took a swim. Just finished breakfast this morning. What did the two of you do this summer?"