Ms. Carter and Miss Candy Ch. 02

I returned the tray and was about to sit down when Mitch turned to Russell and asked, "So, are you queer or what?" My heart stopped.

"Not cool, dude!" someone shouted.

"What the fuck, Mitch?" Gray demanded.

"You don't have to answer that, kid," someone else jumped in.

There was common agreement throughout the room that Mitch was way out of line, but I knew that wouldn't be the end of it. Russell had to say something.

"Now hear me out," Mitch slurred, "I know you're a terrific cocksucker, but you also dig chicks, right?"

There was another round of people calling Mitch out and defending Russell. I sat down and just stared at Mitch. What the hell was he playing at? I didn't know what he did upstairs, but I was pretty sure he was just pretending to be a surly drunk. So, why out Russell like that? And if he was going to ask, why not ask in private?

"No, no, no," Russell said to the crowd. "It's a fair question. I just don't have an answer for you." Russell spoke directly to Mitch, "I mean, I know you can mess around with guys and girls and call yourself straight; but, I guess, I'm just a little more willing to admit that I am bisexual, pansexual, or something like that."

The whole damn room went silent. It was almost the right answer, but Russell had fucked up. He implied that Mitch might be gay—or at least, that he wasn't fully straight. I watched Mitch's jaw set in place. He was getting ready for a fight.

"So, let me get this straight," I broke in, talking past Mitch to my son. Or rather, to the kid that I was pretending wasn't my son. "Given the option, would you rather have a smoking hot woman sucking your dick, or would you prefer to blow some hot guy's cock?" The tension in the room subsided slightly. All Russell had to do was answer. It didn't matter what the answer was, he just needed to say something. Put the attention back on yourself and take it off what you said about Mitch. Come on, son, figure it out.

Russell fumbled the play. He sat there looking at me and saying nothing. Mitch decided to take it further.

"Go ahead, Rusty, tell us," Mitch challenged him. "Which would you prefer? Let's make it easier for you—Candy or Gray? Would you want Candy to blow your load, or Gray to bust a nut in your face?"

This was so incredibly out of line that no one was even complaining about it anymore. They all just watched as Russell stammered and looked around the room at everyone watching him. I decided to jump in again. What else could I do?

"What the hell, Mitch?" I said, while playfully slapped his arm. "You just going to offer me up like that? What's next, you going to want me to throw a gangbang?" A few people laughed, but Mitch was still staring at Russell, and Russell was stuck like a deer in the headlights.

"I've never had a guy go down on me before," Gray broke in, "It might be a novel experience." More people chuckled nervously.

"Fine," I said, while pulling off my blouse. It wasn't like my bra wasn't on full display anyway. "Rusty," when I spoke my son finally looked at me, "Get up, get over here."

Rusty stood up and walked over to me, not comprehending what was going on. Mitch turned his head to face me, but I just put one hand on his shoulder and whispered, "You started this."

"Well, get it out for me," I said to Russell, and placed my other hand firmly on his ass. He couldn't think of anything else to do, so he unzipped his slacks and pulled his cock out of the pink panties. I kept my hand firmly on his ass, preventing his pants from falling accidentally and showing the panties to the whole room. I turned my head slightly and pretended to examine my son's cock.

"Impressive," I said, honestly, "not as good as yours, Mitch, but it does look delicious."

With one hand on Mitch's shoulder and one hand on Russell's ass I wrapped my lips around my son's semi-erection and sucked him hard. Once he was ready, I started sliding my head back and forth in time to the pounding beat coming from upstairs. Everything else was silent. As far as anyone knew, Mitch had brought some new girl and a kid that Mitch probably bullied at school, and now that girl was blowing that kid right in front of Mitch's face.

And there was nothing Mitch could do about it.

My glasses slipped from my face and tumbled to the floor, but I kept going. Back and forth, over-and-over, until I felt Russell was about to cum. I wasn't sure how long it had been—I didn't want it to seem like he came too quickly—but decided it was long enough. I opened wide and held his cock on the tip of my tongue so everyone could see his spunk shoot into my mouth. I cleaned the last drips off and swallowed.

Everyone cheered and started clapping. Russell pulled up his pants and stepped back while we got a standing ovation. People were coming up to slap Russell on the back and shake his hand. I picked up my glasses and put them back on. Mitch gave me a slight nod and looked away. I was quickly dragged off to hang out with the other girls who thought what I just did was the most amazing thing ever.

Only two people weren't cheering us on. Mitch who sat looking sullen and drunk at his table. Meanwhile, Wendy stood a little apart from the other girls just looking at me. I tried not to let her ruin my mood and kept talking with the other girls about blowjob techniques and mixing drinks.

Thirty minutes later Mitch pretended to wake up at the table. He looked over at me and I said it was time for me to go. Mitch and I collected Russell, who was sitting at the bar, completely drunk off his ass. The three of us left together, with people calling that 'Rusty' and 'Candy' were welcome back anytime.

Once again, I climbed into the back of Mitch's Mustang and Russell rode in the passenger seat. Mitch pulled a plastic shopping bag out of his glove compartment in case my son got sick.

We drove back to my home and Mitch helped me walk Russell into the house. We knelt him down in the bathroom, and not for the first time I watched my son blow chunks into the toilet. At least this was the first time he did it to avoid alcohol poisoning.

"I don't understand," I said to Mitch, when we were back in the hallway, "You made yourself look like an asshole in front of your friends—and for what?"

Mitch just looked at me, confused.

"You had to know what you were doing," I challenged him, "I know you were just pretending to be drunk and—"

"I don't have an answer for you, Teach. It was just the thing to do," Mitch said, just staring at me.

I guess that was when I started to wonder if, maybe, I wasn't the only one who lost track of who I was when we got to pretending.