Kendo's Video

[Spoiler-ish note for readers who feel strongly about the need for affirmative consent: There's a major scene in this story that combines ambiguous prior consent with a request for sexual activity during intoxication. If these things bother you in stories, you may want to skip this one.

Standard note for all readers: all characters in this story are over the age of 18. With those things said, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the story!]

It took a while for me to get back to the party from dropping Kerry off. There was the drive to her place, then talking out the for-sure-we're-done finality of the breakup, then the drive back, then the sitting in the car a couple minutes to make sure I had my composure. (That bit went pretty quick -- the breakup was way overdue, and I was mostly just glad she was the one who brought it up and I didn't have to.)

Things remained in pretty good swing when I got back inside, maybe about three-quarters of the gang still there, dancing to music a little louder than when I'd left, or yelling and shouting from the game room at whoever just scored the most recent Playstation knockout. In the semi-dark of the front room, lit only by spillover light from the kitchen, Pete and Dianne were making out in the loveseat as I came in the door. Mom lay stretched out completely zonked on the couch across the coffee table from them, with her bottle of Godiva chocolate liqueur on the table beside a shot glass. When I decided to have some and went over to pick up the bottle, it was empty.

Holy shit, no wonder she's passed out, I thought. I'd given it to her on her birthday two days earlier.

A quick second of looking around relieved my worry that people might be as weirded-out as I was by my mom lying drunk on our sofa in the middle of the party. Aside from Pete and Dianne, everybody was elsewhere in the house, and those two had themselves wrapped up in each other way to much to pay attention to Mom's inebriation.

And it's not like she looks sloppy-awful drunk, I thought. She might have just been taking a nap in her grey cardigan, t-shirt and yoga pants, if you didn't notice the empty bottle of hooch and lipstick from her red, red lips on the rim of the shot glass. Her long, wavy, deep-brunette hair lay in relatively good shape around her head against a throw-pillow and the arm of the couch, not in a wild, booze-plastered mess.

I took the bottle and shot-glass into the kitchen, where I found several of my friends laughing and chatting, Bill with his arm around Casey in a way I hadn't noticed before. Good for Casey, I thought. She'd been after Bill for a while. Moving on into the living room, I notched the stereo back down where it had been before I left, earning me a disgruntled glance from a couple of the people there dancing. I glared back sternly, won the staredown, and went to the game room, one door down the hall.

After displacing Sandy to tag into a four-player battle royale, I proceeded to win several matches in a row and handed the controller off to Jill, at which point I decided to check on Mom again. I waved at Kendo, Trace, and Don as I passed them loitering in a cluster at the edge of the space that had been cleared for dancing. Trace and Don said "hi" in a way that felt a little odd, like I'd interrupted something, even though it hadn't looked like they were talking as I walked up. More like ... waiting for something, with at least one of them glancing in the direction of the living room. Kendo raised a beer at me and swigged it coolly, then grinned as I moved on. Don coughed -- pretty loudly, but the music mostly drowned it out.

And then I walked down the front hall and found Sandy standing by the arm of the couch, nervously watching Pete and Dianne for any sign they might look his way while he leaned down and fondled my mothers tits.

My jaw dropped and my eyes bugged out just long enough for Sandy to notice me and jerk upright, his face turning redder than Mom's lipstick. I managed to hold in the "Sandy, what the fuck!" that tried to leap from my mouth, which might have woken Mom (although really, it had no chance to break through her level of alcohol-induced catatonia), but I couldn't hold back from striding over, grabbing him by the arm and manhandling him halfway down the hall.

"Adam, oh man, dude, it's not like --"

"It's not?" I was livid, shaking, completely gob-smacked that anyone, much less Sandy, would be so brazen as to grope my mom in the middle of a party. "What the hell is it like, then?"

"No -- I -- you didn't see --"

"Yes, I totally saw! You were --"

"No, you didn't see the ... um ..."

At this point, Kendo, Trace, and Don sauntered past the couch to the front door, having cut around me and Sandy by way of the archway between the kitchen and front room.

Kendo waved and opened the front door and said, "Later, dudes."

"Guys!" Sandy begged. "Wait --"

But the three of them kept moving, Trace and Don waving without making eye contact. I saw Don glance at the couch, then jerk his head away before his eyes made it all the way down Mom's unconscious body. The front door closed behind them and I returned my glare to Sandy.

"Adam ..." he said, eyes shifting helplessly from me to the shut door back to me again.

"What, Sandy?" I asked. I heard Kendo's car start up outside, then saw a defeated slump settle into Sandy's whole upper body. "What's your excuse? Who does that?"

He looked like he was about to cry behind his glasses. "I wouldn't have, oh god, Adam, I totally wouldn't have if I hadn't ..."

"If you hadn't what? Stop looking at the door. Do you think the guys are going to come back and save you from this?"

Something clicked then, and he straightened up a little, running a hand through his short blond hair. "I wouldn't have if Kendo hadn't showed me that video."

###

A minute later, we were in the laundry room between the kitchen and garage, door shut, party sounds muted, and Sandy's phone out.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"They were all gathered around, just staring like robots at Kendo's phone," Sandy told me, although I could barely process his words over the ones coming from his phone.

"Fuck! Oh ... oh, yeah, Mrs. Heath ... fuck yeah!"

"I tried to get them to show me, and Kendo was pushing me away, but then Don says, 'Just show him, man. Or better yet, send it to him. If anybody needs spank material, it's Sandy.'"

On the screen, right there before my eyes, Kendo's swollen cock was going into my mom's mouth. No, her mouth was going down on his cock. As greedily as any deep-throating porn queen ever went down on anything.

"Mm," she said after pulling off his wet, veined rod with a pop. "You boys are delicious."

And as the slick cylinder of my friend's engorged dick waved at the center of the view, she turned to her left and went down on another cock that she gripped tight in her fist.

"Oh shit!" came Don's voice from the phone as my mom -- on her knees with an erection in each hand and another one jutting straight at her from camera center -- slurped to the root on that cock and bobbed. "Oh shit!"

"She came into the game room while they were the only three not playing and asked if they could help her with something in the garage."

All the way down. My mom's beautiful face and red lips went all the way down Don's shaft, came almost all the way off, and went all the way down again.

"Wow, Mrs. Heath," Kendo's voice said, louder than the rest of it because he was holding the phone. "You're fucking incredible!"

"Mm-hmm," she hummed around my friend's spit-shiny hard-on.

"Oh ... oh ... that's so good," Trace said, presumably from the direction of the enormous purple-headed tool she was jacking in her right hand. "Mrs. H, please ... please, can you ..."

Her mouth released Don, a strand of gleaming saliva swinging between his tip and her lips, then breaking as she said, "Sure thing, honey," and swiveled to lick and then kiss and then envelop the head of that last cock. I could hear Kendo laughing as the view wavered and his dick swung in time to his lusty giggle and Trace's groaning whimper.

"Mmmm -- llhlllmmph -- shlllhphth," came the sounds of Mom's mouth working its way down a third rock-hard teenage dingus. Her hand let Trace go and flailed over until it bumped into and grabbed Kendo's unattended pud, sliding along it with her own spit for lube and pulling gutteral noises of encouragement from him as she sucked Trace wildly and continued whacking Don off with equal vigor.

"You can -- I mean, there's --" Sandy's voice continued to barely register on the peripheries of my shock-blanked consciousness. "There's several minutes before -- if you want to skip ..."

It's not something you ever expect to see -- your mom sucking off three guys at once, cheeks vacuumed in and spit running off her chin. I mean, unless your mom's literally a porn actress. But there she was, and I couldn't look away. Did I want to skip ...? Seriously, Sandy thought I somehow had enough power of higher reasoning to make a choice about what was going on in front of my eyes.

She switched back to Kendo, who'd started grunting at the hand-job she was giving him. The return of her mouth, swift, sweet, swallowing him by the inch, jumped his voice up maybe two octaves. "Holeeeey shiiiiit -- eee, Mrs. Heath --"

Those crystal blue eyes of hers looked straight up at the camera as her nose landed in Kendo's pubes. I could see something in them -- fire, and a hungry pride -- and she kept staring as she twisted her head side-to-side, rolling my friend's hard-on in her mouth. Kendo was the one she was staring at, obviously.

But it felt like she was staring at me.

And I realized I was holding Sandy's phone about where Kendo must have been holding his while he videoed my mom fellating him.

And I realized my cock was every bit as hard as the one I saw disappearing between her lips.

Sandy -- I guess still thinking this was somehow about him -- said, "Geez, Adam ... I don't want you getting damaged or something ... you can forward to the last --"

I just hissed at him, and he finally shut up.

On the little screen in my hands, Mom lunged. And tongued. And lollipopped. She tugged on the cocks to either side of her until she'd pulled the guys close enough she could get two of their tips in her mouth at once. She went around them in a circle, one enveloping bob down and back off each straining erection. A couple of times, when she was really getting to the root on Kendo, he moved the camera closer and closer to her face until the sloshing sound of her mouth milking his fat erection got almost as loud as his panting and his groans.

And somehow, even louder than that, Mom's blue eyes spoke right into the phone, right into my head: I am going to make you come down my throat, little boy. I'm not just rocking your world -- I am ruling it.

It took that moment for me to realize she wasn't looking at Kendo when her eyes met mine through his phone. She was looking directly at the lens. She was staring into the moment in the future when a horny young man got his phone out to whack off to this video.

Toward the end of the second close-up shot, the view started to shake.

"Oh shit ... oh shit -- Mrs. Heath, I'm -- oh shit, I'm going to -- UHHHH!"

Her lips pressed tight around him as his hips bucked and the frame shook and slewed -- but in the middle of it all, the whole rest of her face relaxed into total, peaceful bliss. Her eyes flittered shut -- long, black lashes revealed full-length, eyebrows no longer furrowed with effort. Over all the noise Kendo was making, I somehow thought I could hear her swallowing, swallowing, drinking down something pure and satisfying beyond belief.

Then Don whined from somewhere off-camera, "God damn, Kendo, finish already! I'm so fucking close ..."

With a last groan, Kendo pulled out, his still-thick but fading hard-on dropping loose from between Mom's lips, trailing a string of saliva and cum as her mouth made a pop and turned into a grin. Those blue eyes opened again at the same time, and then she winked at the camera, which was falling back as Kendo apparently dropped to his ass on the floor of our garage. The view veered wildly past the storage shelves and the lawnmower before swinging back to the action: Mom's head sweeping left, jaw open wide as it would go to gulp in Don's quivering, trembling pole.

"AHH!"

He must have started coming as soon as she got him all the way in, because her hand went around to his ass to pull him tight against her face, and the muscles of her throat worked rhythmically to drink down everything he had. He squealed and pumped at her, and she took it with her eyes once again rapturously closed until he was done.

That left Trace, and the view swiveled clumsily as Kendo moved to get the best angle of Mom engulfing the last and biggest of the three guys.

Fuck, he's got a big cock, I thought as she settled her lips around his monster shaft just behind the bulging knob of his cockhead. Unlike what she'd done to Don and Kendo, so far Mom hadn't gotten Trace all the way down. Even with her fist wrapped around the base of it, his dick still gave her a good six or seven inches to swallow. And it had girth too -- her fingers didn't reach all the way around to her thumb as she jacked away at it.

On her knees in front of him now, though, nursing at the smooth purple bulb of his tip, she had a look in her eyes that said exactly what she intended to do. She was going to deep-throat the entire thing -- all nine or ten inches, I knew it.

But she didn't do it fast.

Instead, she just kept working him with her fist, staring up at his eyes somewhere off-camera, and easing forward maybe a centimeter for every five or six strokes of her hand. Then, halfway to the ring her thumb and forefinger made around his rod, she went in reverse and slid back at the same rate until the rim of his glans bumped into the seal of her lips and pushed them outward.

"Hnngh -- M-Mrs. H, ah --"

Pump. Pump. Pump.

Trace whimpered and trembled as she leaned into her work again and drove steadily along his length. Even as his meaty dick vanished bit by bit between her lips, I could see it thickening, the veins standing out. He was so ready to blow -- one extra flick of her tongue would have done it, I bet. But she seemed to read every swell of his ecstasy with her plush oral flesh, and stopped and held still and just squeezed, hand and lips, every time he got to the edge. I couldn't believe she made it all the way to her fist without him going off. This high-pitched keening noise came out of him, and she didn't move again until it subsided.

Then her grip fell away, and she reached around with both hands to grab the muscles of his ass, and she angled her neck and her jaw just right and made the final push forward in one incredibly hot thrust, lips distended by the beefy root as she reached it, eyes squeezed shut with the effort.

"Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohhhh -- "

There was clearly no stopping it this time, so she didn't even try. As a heavy grunt of masculine joy rolled out of Trace's chest, Mom whiplashed her head and neck forward and back, forward and back, getting in three unbelievable strokes, six or seven inches each, before he exploded down her throat. When she bottomed out that third time, he grabbed the back of her head and held her in place, arching his spine and shoving his hips forward as far as they would go while he blew an apparently endless load into my mother's stomach. Just about the time I was getting ready to beat the shit out of Trace the next time I saw him, he let her go and she pulled off him with a coughing gasp.

And I guess the behavior didn't faze her a bit, because as she got her breath back, the gasps turned into a hoarse laugh, and she grinned up at Trace and scratched his belly and then his pubic hair right above that lowering, dripping beam of cock.

"Uhhhh ... Jesus!" he groaned, erection bobbing back up at the tickle of her fingers through his crotch-hair.

Kendo gave a low, "Whooo, damn, Mrs. Heath."

She laughed some more and smoothed her hair.

"I don't ever want to leave this garage again," Don said from somewhere off camera.

"Well," Mom replied, "It's about to lose some of its appeal, because I'm going inside now."

"Awww, man," said Don as she stood up.

"Boo," said Kendo.

"Poor babies," Mom said, walking away toward the door into the house. "I guess you'll just have to zip your pants up and go back in to the dancing and video games."

Kendo zoomed in on the heart-shaped swell of her ass for a second, swishing the taut fabric of her yoga pants with each step -- then he zoomed back out as she turned toward them once more and he had to sweep the view up her front to her face.

"But don't give up on the party too quick," she said. "Because I'm going open up my liquor cabinet and drink until I pass out. And then anyone who wants to can fuck me in my sleep."

###

Yeah, so my mom actually told three guys that and then went and drank until she passed out.

Was she taunting them by conking on the couch right across from Pete and Dianne, sure she was safe because they'd never dare touch her where they might get seen? Maybe, but for all I knew, that loveseat make-out session started after Mom was already soused. And what was to stop the guys from buddy-carrying her back to her bedroom, dropping her off to make an appearance in the game room or dance area, then sneaking back in once the coast was clear?

I became aware that Sandy had started babbling at me. "Adam, I swear I only showed you so you'd know. I mean, she basically said it was okay to do way more than I did, right? And I was drawing the line at feeling her up, I promise. Can you blame me? I mean, I'm not trying to be crude about your mom, but if she wasn't your mom and she said she wouldn't mind people messing with her while she was out, wouldn't you want to touch those --"

I looked up at him, started to hand his phone back, then stopped and had one of those fuck, am I really thinking about doing this? moral dilemmas. And then I wasn't thinking about it anymore, I was hitting the send icon and shooting Kendo's porn video of Mom's Triple-Blowjob Adventure to my own number. And then my phone buzzed in my pocket and I thought, Oh fuck, I really just did that.

My throat felt like I'd swallowed a basketball or something. My dick hadn't softened up yet from watching Mom blow three of my friends, but now it throbbed almost painfully hard inside my jeans. I had to jerk off to that video the absolute first second I could.

I gave Sandy back his phone.

Took a deep breath.

And said, "Okay, I'm shutting this party down."

Thank god Kerry had given me the perfect excuse. Putting on a freaked-out expression was a piece of cake, and so was going around telling everyone about the breakup and how I really just wanted to be alone and have some peace and quiet to think in. People were bummed (except Sandy, who shot out of there like he'd just been pardoned from a life sentence), and a couple of them tried to convince me that, no, I shouldn't be alone, I should keep my friends around me and maybe get my feelings out and/or drink the pain away. But in the end, I had them all gone inside fifteen minutes.

Somehow, I kept it together for that quarter-hour eternity. I nodded and hugged people and said the right things back to shut them up and get them out the door.