Masked Emotions

The blond girl in long pink pajamas pressed her topless roommate against the wall and had a hand down the front of her friend's sleepwear. They kissed, and in response, I moved my hand more rapidly up and down my shaft, my orgasm approaching. Quicker; tighter, as the girls found their way to the bed and I felt pre-cum lubricate my masturbation. Nearly there! One going down on the other, her face buried in her lover's sex. So close...

The phone vibrated in my hand, startling me, and a caller I.d. popped up over the action on the small screen.

"Mom." I slowed my breathing. "Hello."

"Whatcha doin'?"

Caught nearing completion, I felt myself unnecessarily blush and struggled to come up with a lie.

"Ah, just watching a movie," I told the truth.

"Oh yeah, what one?"

"Oh, nothing you'd know. What's going on?" I quickly changed the subject.

"Your father's gone away again for work," she informed me. "I wanted to ask a little favor of you?"

My hand remaining on my erection, it was actually somewhat exciting talking to my mother over the phone. I recalled similar in my late teens. Receiving a grateful blowjob from a past girlfriend. My parents away on vacation and calling home to be sure all was okay. God, that had been almost fifteen years ago, I realized, and wondering where the time had gone, brought myself back to the conversation at hand.

Dad traveling on work trips wasn't a new thing and I supposed she needed me to go around and mow the lawns, change a blown lightbulb?

"Yeah, what's up?" I continued to gently stroke my cock, feeling just a little shame at my action.

"Well, it's a big one actually," she divulged and I smirked at her unbeknownst double entendre as she continued. "Work's having after-hours drinks. A kind of party. And with your father being called away last minute, well, I really don't want to go alone. It'll be an open bar," Mom threw in to apparently sway me.

I inwardly groaned. A party with a bunch of people I didn't know. A work party at that. It didn't sound the most enticing of offers. I then thought of the free alcohol. It was a late start at work the next day. There was the possibility of a free feed as well. I'd also be catching up with Mom whom I'd admittedly not seen in months. It was then the guilt of touching my cock whilst talking to her cut in and I agreed to her request.

"What time tonight?" I asked and her answer came quickly.

"Oh, it's not tonight. It's Friday," she replied and then added another pivotal factor before hanging up, a wicked delight in her voice. "And it's a costume party!"

*

What was I complaining about really? Yes, it was the loss of a Friday night. But what had I planned myself? The hope of an arranged Tinder date? A bar crawl with some friends? Mom had texted back immediately with the news a costume had already been arranged for me, so all I really had to do was show up and be the pleasant son to her colleagues. I could do that.

I arrived no more than ten minutes early Friday night and let myself into my family home, music playing and an opened bottle of white wine on the benchtop in the kitchen. Calling out my presence, Mom made it out of her bedroom and down the hall, empty wine glass in hand. Clearly having just stepped from the shower, she wasted no time in greeting me with a hug and kiss; the smell of wine strong on her, I wondered if it wasn't the only bottle that had been opened that afternoon? As she poured herself another glass and I waved away her offer of one myself, I happened to notice something I hadn't at first.

Her robe.

Tied securely around the waist, it clung tight to her body. Too tight. With the sheen of water still on her legs, it seemed she'd forgone toweling due to my arrival and merely wrapped herself in the thin white robe on her departure from the bathroom. The effect was the gradual dampening of the satin or silk. Most prominent upon her breast. Even as I tried not to watch, the pink of her nipples showed through the material and the sight became more and more uncomfortable. To the point where I broke into her small talk conversation and asked where my costume was? Simply for a chance to get away from the situation.

"Oh, it's in your room Honey," Mom, even after my ten years out of the family home referred to my old bedroom.

To be honest, I was actually looking forward to trying it on. When she'd texted 'Batman' as the answer to what I would be wearing, I was somewhat excited. The fanboy in me coming out. What I found lying in a clear plastic wrapper upon my bed, however, wasn't the Batman I had in mind.

Adam West. Not Christian Bale. There was a grimace as I held the clearly inexpensive spandex costume in my hands but I thought I'd reserve my final judgment until I had it on.

"Did you find it alright?" Mom needlessly called from the hallway and I laughed at her concern.

"Ah, yeah!" I yelled back. "You left some details out!"

I heard her giggle from the other side of the door.

"Well, we had to match," she replied. "I'm going as Julie Newmar's Catwoman."

I tried to picture Mom dressed as the character and the image wouldn't come, focusing instead on getting myself into my suit, until finally, job done, I turned to the mirror and wasn't entirely upset at the reflection.

There was a problem, however. And though not fatal, it did affect the overall look. I was wearing boxer shorts and the tightness of the one-piece spandex (no extra outside underpants) revealed their material and even the checked print through the thin fabric. It looked stupid, and happy with how my chest and arms appeared in the body-hugging design, I wanted to look my best all over. I began the task of removing the costume.

Boxer shorts off, I again stepped into the bodysuit and pulled it over me. I hadn't expected how pleasant the silky spandex would feel upon my now exposed genitals and as it pressed onto me, I could feel myself swell slightly at the sensation. Cape on. Cowl, yellow utility belt, gloves, and boots, I looked back into the mirror and was suitably satisfied with the result. It left nothing to the imagination, however. The clear outline of my dick and balls. Who'd be looking? I declared with fists pressing my hip and chest out in a superhero stance, before I confidently left the room.

In the kitchen, Mom still hadn't returned and I took up the earlier offer of wine, pouring myself a glass for confidence. It was as I lowered it from my lips that I heard the click of heels enter the room and turned to see her approach. It wasn't what I'd struggled to picture.

"Ooh, I'll have another one too Batman!" She purred as she walked towards me and I didn't know where to look.

She was dressed as Catwoman alright, but the costume was significantly different from that of the television show of the '70s. Feeling myself begin to blush, I stared straight into her face but my peripheral vision allowed me to still take in her appearance below. The black catsuit, more a bodystocking, was entirely see-through! Was she not aware? An amulet of sorts hung around her neck, dropping down between her surprisingly (for her age) gravity-defying breasts. Her nipples, which I'd admittedly spied earlier, were again clearly visible. But it was under the gold belt around her waist where the most contention lay.

I could see my mother's pussy! The seamless bodystocking was taut around her groin, the darkness of the nylon almost matching her skin tone as it hugged her crotch. Perfectly smooth was the skin above the slit of labia and the thought entered my head for the first time in my life. My mother shaves her pussy!

"Well?" She turned in a circle upon her high-heeled ankle boots and I allowed my eyes to drop to her ass. To take in her beautifully curved buttocks, just as exposed as her groin, the dark crevice of her crack. "How do I look?" She questioned.

Again, her boobs and pussy came into view and I quickly set to pouring her a glass from the bottle.

"Ah," I paused. "Don't you think you've forgotten something?" I hinted at her lack of underwear as I slid the wine across the benchtop and she looked puzzled for a moment before coming to the realization.

"Oh, silly me," she laughed and headed back the way she'd come and I treated myself to another peek at her ass. Purely out of curiosity. Oh, who was I kidding? She had a nice bum! There I said it.

With her out of the room, I took a moment to compose myself and downed the remainder of my glass to steady my nerves, adjusting my semi-erect penis to a more comfortable position. It wasn't because of her, I told myself. I wasn't getting a hardon for my mom. It was just the spandex against my skin that was arousing. Nothing more.

"Ta-da!" Mom's voice re-entered the frame and she returned with cat ears in her reddish-brown hair and a black mask over her eyes. She hadn't put on underwear. And as I gazed upon her near, no, actual nudity, my cock began to unwittingly harden. Struggling to come to terms with the fact I was turned on by my mother, I quickly sat upon a stool behind the benchtop, taking my arousal from potential viewing. Just in time too as Mom came around beside me and took up her glass. She was clearly more than tipsy and I wondered if it had anything to do with her carefree attitude to her appearance? It also raised another issue.

"Hey, how are we getting to this thing anyway?" I questioned as I poured myself another, this time, half glass. "I could arrange an Uber."

"No, it's been organized," Mom looked up to the wall clock. "Actually, the service should be here soon. They've arranged limos for everyone!"

*

She wasn't lying. No more than five minutes later we were in the back of a Cadillac, and twenty minutes after that, arriving at a lavish private residence. Mom had had a vodka from the car's minibar during the voyage and as we walked up an extended drive, she wrapped an arm around my own and leaned into me, confessing she had to pee.

It wasn't something I'd ordinarily want or expect to hear, but strangely I found it again kind of arousing. What the fuck was wrong with me? When we reached the wide staircase leading up to a broad porch, it was then she stopped and turned me towards her, an unexpectedly anxious look in her eyes.

"What?" I smirked.

"I haven't been entirely truthful with you!" She admitted and I could even see her eyes turning glassy behind the mask.

"What? What is it?" I returned, admittedly concerned, and raised a hand to press to her upper arm in an open sign of affection.

She looked down at it momentarily and a half-smile came to her mouth, just as quickly disappearing.

"Your father isn't away on a work trip," she strangely confessed and I frowned, though it was probably lost to her behind my mask.

"What do you mean?"

"He left me," she admitted and her eyes became noticeably teary. "Months back."

It was a revelation. And the strangest time and manner for her to break the news of my parent's breakdown in marriage. I was still processing what she'd told me when she continued.

"It's why you're here tonight. Why I chose the Batman costume. I know he was your favorite."

"Wait, what? So, Dad was never going to be wearing this?" I looked down at myself. "What do you mean 'why I'm here?'" I added.

"It's another thing I need to ask of you," Mom continued. "I've been lying to them," she nodded in the direction of the house. "Said I was dating a younger man," she began to blush. "Just for tonight. I know it's a big thing to ask. But could you pretend to be 'Him?'"

It was all too much too soon. My parents split after what, a nearly thirty-year marriage? Was it why he'd never answered each time I called the house? Why hadn't he told me? Why had Mom seemingly lied for so long? And why did I have to pretend to be her date? It was all so weird. And told her as much.

"I know it's strange," Mom conceded. "And I'm sorry to lay this all upon you now. It's just they're all so cliquey at this place. No one knew me when I started, I just wanted to be interesting to them. Not just a divorced fifty-year-old single woman."

She'd started this new job at least six months earlier. How long had she, and in turn Dad, been keeping their separation secret?

She was awaiting my reply and I'd almost forgotten how exposed was her body as I stood before her. She was just my mom again. My beautiful, sweet, and loving mom. And now clearly so vulnerable.

"Of course I will," I smiled and without thinking, took her in my arms. The moment her body pressed to mine, however; her state of undress once more came into stark reality. Her supple flesh under my gloved hands, breasts pressing my own barely covered chest. I pulled back and looked again into her eyes. "But we're gonna talk about this separation thing later," I scolded her and in turn, she threw me a mischievous smile.

"So, Sylvia. This is your mystery man!" A voice came from our side and we turned to see Lady Godiva and Abraham Lincoln approaching. A sexy Godiva at that. Long blond wig strategically positioned over her breasts. Though the reveal of a tiny vine leaf upon her crotch made me think she may have been Eve. What kind of party was this? I wondered.

"Oh, Danielle. Hi. Yes," Mom began and was interrupted by Abe presenting me his hand.

"Paul Evans," the man introduced himself, and not knowing how much Mom had told her colleagues about her 'mystery man,' I furnished her lie with my charade.

"Wayne. Bruce Wayne," I smiled, shaking his hand, and understanding, he and Godiva/Eve laughed at my joke.

"Ok, it's like that is it? Keeping up the mystery!" Godiva winked at Mom and leaned in to kiss her welcome. I had to admit, the sight of my near-naked mother and her just as unclothed acquaintance in an embrace, albeit merely formal was again pretty arousing and when Abe as well winked at me, I could see I wasn't alone.

"Well, we'll see you inside," Godiva/Eve/Danielle shook my hand grinning and the two left us once more alone.

"That was perfect," Mom turned back to me smiling, all of her earlier apprehension seemingly dissolved. "Thank you for this."

"Hey, what's a son for?" I grinned. "...If not to pretend to be his mother's secret lover to put one over her workmates!"

She laughed and once more took my arm as we headed inside. Her breast against my bicep, pleasantly uncomfortable, if that was a thing? My own words, 'secret lover' still tossing around my head. I was beginning to feel very weird.

*

Introductions to people whose names I immediately forgot. References to work-related matters I didn't understand, and an unexpected overload of attractive women in surprisingly stimulating costumes, met our first few minutes at the party. Mom inquired as to the location of the bathroom and left me to handle obtaining drinks for us both. The course of which was disrupted by my encounter with Heath Ledger's Joker, a friendly exchange of casual conversation between us before my arm was unexpectedly clasped and Mom reappeared.

"That was quick," I mused and Mom smiled at my nemesis as well as new-found friend.

"Sorry Gary," she said. "Can I just borrow Batman for a moment?"

"Of course. You look great by the way Sylvia," he raised a glass and was distracted by a Baywatch Pamela Anderson, eager to follow her through the throng of people.

"What's up?" I asked Mom.

"There's no lock on the door!" She grimaced and I noticed actually fidget to emphasize her need to go. "Can you watch me?"

"Watch you!?"

"I mean watch the door, Silly," she slapped my chest, her hand staying put slightly longer than was necessary. Or was I imagining things?

"Lead the way," I directed, and despite the Baywatch Babe still in sight. Despite the Lara Croft with the smallest, tightest shorts I'd ever seen. I watched my mom's ass as she headed through the house.

It was as I guarded the door I thought more about her costume. Understanding her need for me to stand watch. She'd have to remove it to go to the toilet; it'd certainly be embarrassing if someone happened to enter. And then another image entered my mind. Or she could pee right through it? Stand astride the bowl and release her stream of pee straight through the thin material. I immediately scolded myself for imagining it. She's your mother Dude! I told myself but it didn't chase the vision away. Only made it stronger. My dick as well joining in on the incestuous and fetishistic fantasy and swelling behind the spandex. No! I inwardly yelled and forced my mind on other things, spotting a large older gentleman in a Borat swimsuit. His hairy back as he awkwardly danced with what looked to be Marie Antoinette. That did it. And finally, I heard the toilet flush and Mom soon reappeared.

"Drinks?" She smiled and I tried to not look at her breasts behind the see-through catsuit.

*

A lot of 'work' talk. More names and faces I'd most likely never see again. There was less discussion of the fake relationship between Mom and me than I'd imagined so there was little need to come up with a backstory on the spot. No, 'how did you meet?' We did get an, 'are you getting married?' Which Mom laughed at and took my hand, fobbing off the question with a 'we're just having fun together' response as she kissed my gloved knuckles. But after, our hands remained locked.

We drank. Probably too much. Mom kept attempting to drag me to the dance floor and I repeated my response.

"Batman don't dance!"

But eventually, when voices raised in obviously inebriated fervor and suitably lubricated, most of the party had taken to the floor, I relented, and carefree, moved (probably awkwardly) in time with the music.

A masked Freddy Krueger attempted to cut in, Mom seemingly unsure of who he was and rejected his advance on her, yet moments later I and many of the men present looked on intently as she and a middle-aged cheerleader ground against each other. The woman's hands caressing Mom's curves in front of us all, and ridiculously I was jealous. Of whom? I wondered. Mom? Or the cheerleader?

The music changed. From upbeat to a slow number and surprisingly, Mom left her friend and sought me out. I'll remember the moment as long as I live. Time almost slowing as her eyes found mine. Slipping through couples as she crossed the floor to stand before me.

"I suppose we should dance," I whispered as she came within earshot. "Make it look convincing."

She was well ahead of me, arms raising around my neck to pull me into her body as I in turn wrapped her own. Breasts pressing me. Her chin raised to look up into my eyes. Again, she thanked me and I told her it wasn't necessary as I allowed my hands to caress her back. We could've been lovers. For all intents and purposes to those onlooking, we were.

"I should've told you sooner," Mom whispered and I saw the glassiness return to her eyes.

"Probably," I agreed but didn't want to punish her. Dad could've said something as well! "What happened?"

She rolled her eyes behind the mask.

"He found a newer model," she bluntly stated. "Isn't it always the way? He said he no longer found me sexy." I scoffed at the assertion and Mom tilted her head. "What?"

"Well, I mean..." I didn't know how to form the words. To tell my mother I at least thought she was desirable. Indeed, 'sexy.' I nodded my head down, dropping my eyes toward her catsuit. "...just look at you!"

"What? Do you think I look good?" She asked, scrunching her nose and I found the action adorable, wondering why I hadn't noticed it before then?

"'Good?'" I laughed. "Mom!"

"It's a bit risqué, isn't it?"

"It's scandalous," I laughed and she smiled.

"I just wanted to fit in. You've seen the women here," she looked around. Her eyes and mine settling on the Baywatch Babe. "You should see what they wear at work! I just wanted to feel sexy again."

"Mission accomplished," I admitted, and having declared my opinion, felt myself blush.