My Mother, the Supermodel

I didn't go home again for about a year. When I did, I made a point of e-mailing my mother well in advance, saying exactly when I expected to be there. She replied almost immediately. I've still got the message. Here's what she said:

Hello, darling,

It's lovely to hear you're coming home. But I must warn you that I'm going to have a special party the weekend you arrive. About thirty people. And 'special' means sex, darling. You probably guessed, didn't you? That doesn't mean you won't be welcome. I'd love to have you there. But it's up to you. Think about it.

Love,

Chloe xxx

As you can probably guess, I thought about it a lot. And I was really torn. Part of me was desperate to be at that party, but the other part was repelled by the thought. The whole thing was so decadent — to go to my own mother's sex party! But it was delicious as well — deliciously wicked, in fact.

In the end, I put the decision off. I flew home and decided to wait until the day of the party to make up my mind.

*****

When I got there, Chloe was obviously on a high. Her beautiful face glowed as she let me in and she couldn't stop talking about the party. She'd already cleared most of the furniture out of the big reception room we have at the front of the house. She'd scattered huge red cushions and rugs all over the thick carpet we have in there, and she'd made a sort of plinth in the middle of the room, composed of two big mattresses, one laid on top of the other. She'd swathed the walls with rich hangings and shawls with lots of gold and red and yellow in them, and there were big ceramic bowls of condoms and piles of fluffy towels scattered about strategically. The room looked like my idea of an old-fashioned Turkish brothel. It gave me a hard-on just to look at it, even when it was completely empty.

My mother didn't actually ask if I was staying for the party. She just carried on as if I was. And I was finding it increasingly difficult to turn down the invitation. That deliciously wicked excitement I'd felt when I first read her e-mail was an almost physical taste in my mouth. It was a thickening at the base of my throat. It was a constriction in my chest. It was a dark, low pulse, beating through my cock and balls.

I understood how turned on Chloe was by the thought of me, her son, watching her have sex in public. And the fact that it excited her excited me. It was like a feedback loop of arousal: her excitement fed my excitement fed her excitement, and so on. As she'd said, it was very, very kinky. I'd be a licensed voyeur at my own mother's orgy and she'd be putting on a sex show especially for me.

But there was a powerful objection to the idea as well, and, after dinner that night, I mentioned it.

'What if somebody recognises me there tomorrow night?' I asked her. 'I mean, that wouldn't be good, would it?'

But she'd thought of that already. 'Darling,' she said, 'There'll only be one person there who's seen you before. That's Paula, the girl you saw sucking Eric's cock that night. Eric won't be there — he's on a shoot abroad. And we can trust Paula. She won't tell anyone, I promise. I already told her I invited you. She loves it! She says it's sexy.'

I still wasn't completely convinced though. 'But who will people think I am?' I asked her. She had an answer for that, too.

'Well, Jonathon,' she said carefully. 'I do have guests here from time to time. You know, young male guests. And some of them stay for weeks and weeks. Everybody knows I have younger lovers sometimes. We can pretend you're one of my pretty boys. I've already chosen a name for you. We can call you Boris.'

So that's how I became Boris for one night.

She didn't stop at renaming me, though. The following morning, over breakfast, she asked what I was planning to wear to the party. I hadn't thought about it much so I shrugged and indicated the clothes I had on — jeans and a tee-shirt. 'Just these,' I said, 'though I might put some clean ones on.'

Chloe shrieked with laughter. 'You can't!' she said. 'You can't go like that!'

I was about to say that I didn't have anything else, but she rushed out of the room. When she came back, she had a bundle of clothes in her arms. 'Go and try these on,' she said. 'Then come back and show me how they fit.'

So I went upstairs to change. I have to say, they weren't my style at all. She'd given me a pair of tight black leather trousers and a little brown waistcoat, also made of leather. I struggled into both and went downstairs to show her — and she shrieked with laughter again.

'You're supposed to take your tee-shirt off,' she said. 'You must be bare-chested under the waistcoat. And are you wearing underpants?'

I admitted I was.

'Go back and take them off,' she told me. 'The trousers are tight for a reason. Underpants are not it.'

So I dragged myself back upstairs and changed again. When I came down, my cock and balls were bulging obscenely through the thin, skin-tight leather of the trousers, and my chest was bare, as instructed. My mother licked her lips.

'That is so much better,' she said. 'Now you look ready for the party.'

And, amazingly, she reached towards me and grabbed my bulge. I stepped back in shock, but she came forward playfully, and got hold of me down there, actually cupping my scrotum.

'That is what all the women will want to do when they see you tonight, Jonathon,' she said. 'And most of them will do it. You must get used to that.'

Then she let go of me and laughed merrily. I don't remember what I did then, but I know I was blushing. In fact, I was so embarrassed I went and hid in my room for most of the rest of the day. I didn't go downstairs until I heard the party starting.

*****

Actually, I nearly didn't go down at all. But in the end my curiosity — and, I admit, the sheer perversity of the situation — got the better of me. So I went downstairs and sidled in through the door of the party room, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

It really was a decadent scene. My mother had rigged up red lights — of course the lights were red; what else would you expect? - and she'd pulled the heavy velvet curtains closed. And there was a sort of hush in the room. I don't mean silence. People were chatting quietly, but with a suppressed and palpable excitement — as if they knew something major, something really intense, was about to happen. And of course they were right.

The other thing that struck me straight away was that most of the people there were beautiful. I use that word advisedly. They weren't just attractive or good-looking. They were truly beautiful — both the women and the men. I think I'm reasonably good-looking myself, and I keep myself pretty fit — but I felt I stood out like a sore thumb in that company. I was like an ugly duckling on a river full of swans. In fact, I felt so uncomfortable that I slid over to the far corner and backed into it, trying not to attract attention.

Which was a complete waste of time, because as soon as I settled there, Paula, the dark-haired woman I'd seen sucking the man's cock that night, floated up to me. And the first thing she did, by way of greeting, was exactly what my mother had predicted. She slid a hand between my legs and began to stroke my balls through the leather trousers.

I tried to be cool and Paula smiled. 'It's good to see you here ... er ... Boris,' she said. 'Your m-, I mean Chloe, was a little afraid you might not come.'

And all the time she said this, her hand was stroking my balls, and making forays higher up, to trace the outline of my cock with her fingernails. I stopped being cool pretty quickly and Paula let me go with a laugh — just in time probably, because I was in of danger of cumming inside those expensive, sexy trousers. She stepped back and looked me up and down.

'Is this your first orgy?' she asked bluntly. I had to admit it was.

'Good,' she said, with a breathy laugh. 'It's sooo nice to have a virgin here.' And she turned away with a delicious flirt of her arse. I wondered if I'd be within my rights to grab her and throw her down on the floor and fuck her then and there, but I didn't know the etiquette for parties like this — and nobody else seemed to be screwing yet, though there was a fair amount of fondling going on. I looked round for my mother. Was I really going to ask her if it would be OK if I screwed Paula right away? I don't know. Maybe. But anyway, Chloe wasn't around. In fact, I got the impression everyone was waiting for her to make her entrance before the proceedings really got started. So I went and got myself a drink instead, and then I just stood there, taking in the view.

As I said earlier, they were beautiful. And there were a surprising number of women there. I suppose I'd expected it to be a mainly male gathering — just a bunch of blokes all there to fuck my mother — but I was wrong. About half the group were women and it seemed to me that a lot of them were models of some kind. They had that special something models have — a look, an attitude. I don't know what it is exactly, but they had it. They were people who accepted admiring glances as if they were their right. They basked in the attention. As I stood there, frankly staring at them one by one, I knew they felt my gaze on them. They were like sleek and pampered cats. Their eyes narrowed and they almost purred with satisfaction as I looked at them.

I was grateful to my mother for insisting on the clothes I was wearing. I really would have felt out of place in my jeans and tee-shirt. All of these people were wearing expensive, gorgeous costumes. There were some really sumptuous fabrics — and a lot of leather as well, and PVC and rubber, as you'd probably expect. And some of the women were wearing such ridiculous spike heels that I was sure they'd never be able to walk more than a few yards in them. A few of the men had already stripped down to posing pouches, and several of the women were in corsets. There was a definite whiff of fetish about the place.

One of the women stood up and sauntered over to me. She had long dark hair with a slight curl in it. Her mouth was very full and red — like a plump, bruised plum, I thought — and her eyes were heavily made up — also, I thought, like bruises. She was wearing a rich purple sweater with a high roll neck that covered her throat but, below that, she wore only little panties — black, with a sort of sheen to them, and very tight across her pubis. She stopped a couple of feet from me and put her hands on her hips, inspecting.

'I haven't seen you here before,' she said. It was like a challenge. Then: 'You don't look like one of Chloe's regular guys. Are you good at fucking?'

She had some kind of foreign accent — German maybe, or perhaps something from further east. I was out of my depth and I'm not good at witty replies, so I just said: 'Wait and see.' She smiled then and turned, and slapped the full curve of her arse hard with the flat of her hand.

'Perhaps I will,' she said, and she flashed me a smile over her shoulder as she left me.

Just then my mother walked in. Well, to be precise, she appeared in the doorway and paused until she had everyone's attention — which happened very quickly, because she looked stunning. There were excited oohs and aahs, and at least one Bravo!

She was wearing white — a short, pure white dress in some flimsy material that fell to somewhere around the middle of her thighs. The dress had only one shoulder strap. One breast was covered; the other was bare. (I was amazed at how firm and perfect that naked breast was.)

When she had everyone's attention, my mother did a twirl. The flounced skirt of the dress whirled up, and we got a cheeky glimpse of her bare bum. Then she advanced into the room, doing the model walk — placing one brisk foot directly in front of the other to make the dress hem swing. And as she walked, her face went blank — just like a catwalk model's, or a stripper's.

When she reached the middle of the room, she stopped in front of the piled up mattresses. And she looked round, taking in all the faces. When her eyes found mine, she beamed — a great big happy grin. Then she reached behind her to unzip herself, and her dress slid down her body to her feet.

She stepped out of it precisely and delicately. She was naked, except for her high heels and her jewellery. (There was a gold bangle on her forearm, and a black choker round her throat with a green stone set in it.) Her body was amazing. I have no idea how she'd preserved her figure, but she was perfect. I took in every subtle curve, 'til my eyes reached her pussy. And that was entrancing — a thin, neat split, naked like the rest of her, with, above it, just a little tuft of light brown hair.

Chloe stood there a long time, revelling in our stares. Then she reached down and ran her fingers lightly over her peach, her slit.

'Good evenink, darlinks,' she said, laying the Hungarian accent on thick. 'I hop you're feelink fery horny.'

Then, in her normal voice: 'Paula? Have you got the hat, please?'

And Paula stepped forward, holding a top hat out in front of her. They'd obviously discussed what they were going to do in advance.

'I need five men,' said my mother to the room at large. 'Paula has pencils and paper. When she comes, please write your name on a piece of paper, and put it in the hat.

'Just the men,' she added with a wink. 'The girls can have me later.'

Paula came round to each of us in turn, and each man wrote his name on the scrap of paper she gave him, then dropped it hopefully into the hat.

Everyone, that is, except me. When Paula reached me I shook my head. She made a little moue. 'Pretty please?' she asked, fluttering her eyelashes. But I murmured 'No'. What was she thinking of? I was kinky enough to want to watch my mother getting gang-fucked — but to join in? Of course not! I wasn't that far gone!

When she'd collected all the names, Paula took the hat back to Chloe, and they made a big production out of drawing the first name out. My mother put her hand in and rummaged round, then pulled a slip of paper out with a flourish. She read it. 'Jason', she said.

And Jason — a tall blond boy, with the chiselled features of a male model — came forward. He'd stripped off already, in anticipation. My mother knelt on the mattresses and took his already stiff cock in her hand, then brought her lips to the head and began to suck him. It was all so casual but — to me, in my innocence — so shocking that I didn't know whether to watch or turn away. But then my mother looked up, with the cock still in her mouth, and caught my eye. She wanted me to see her like that! Feeling my eyes on her excited her!

Abruptly, I got a mental image of her pussy, of her cunt, all wet and glistening from this extreme excitement. And I got a sudden thrill myself, from deep behind my balls right up my cock: a sharp, hard pulse of spunk and blood!

I watched until she released him from her mouth, and then he returned the favour — sprawling on the mattresses with his head between my mother's thighs. I saw her face screw up: I saw her ecstasy.

And then he fucked her. First my mother rolled a condom onto him, then he had her on her back, with her legs drawn up and her ankles crossed behind him. He was staring down at her, with his hands braced on the mattress, and he fucked her very slowly with long, deep strokes.

Chloe panted hard and her face went red. When she came, she cried out and then, almost incongruously, she was laughing wildly — laughing and spluttering, while the boy went on fucking her 'til he came. When he'd finished he pulled out of her slowly, being careful not to lose the condom, I suppose. And straight away, my mother, still on her back with her legs aloft, turned her head.

'Paula, quick!' she said. 'Another one. Give me another name.'

Three more men had her, each in a different position. One took her doggy style, and then on her side as she scissored her legs around him. She straddled the next one and bore down on him hard, forcing the orgasm out of him. The last one rolled her back onto her shoulders. He had her like that, standing and thrusting down into her from above while she maintained the shoulder stand with her elbows braced against the mattress, her hands supporting her hips. It was sexual gymnastics of a kind I'd never have believed possible. I was so lost in it all that I hardly noticed for a second when Paula shouted 'Boris is next!'

But when I looked, I saw she was holding the top hat with a scrap of paper poised above it. She looked at it carefully, as if she was confirming my name.

'Yes, it's definitely Boris,' she told my mother loudly. 'I wonder why he's looking so bashful?'

Chloe laughed merrily, the way she had that morning when she'd grabbed my balls.

It was impossible, of course — since I hadn't put my name in the hat. But I was trapped. I must have coloured up. I know my face was burning. But the two of them together were like a magnet, drawing me on. I stumbled through the crowd until I reached them. My mother knelt up on the mattresses and reached for the waistband of my trousers.

Paula helped her. I was trembling and terminally awkward, but they stripped the trousers off me, then took the waistcoat off as well. Everyone but me was laughing. And it was Paula who took my prick in her mouth first, while my mother knelt back, watching and grinning on the bed.

I might easily have cum into Paula's mouth. I'm amazed I didn't. And then, when Chloe leaned in and took over, with her soft lips enveloping my glans, I nearly came again. I imagined my sperm pumping into my mother's mouth! It was such a powerful picture, I don't know how I stopped myself doing it for real.

But Chloe wanted more than that. She released my cock and lay back on the bed with her legs apart.

'Come here and lick me ... Boris,' she murmured.

I knelt down and burrowed into her warm pink cunt. The heavy aroma of her sex was instantly in my nostrils; her dew was on my lips. Her hips bucked under my face the instant I found her clitoris. I flicked the nub with my tongue to torture her — to get a kind of revenge for the way she'd played with me.

I did that for a long time. All around me I heard the excited shouting of the crowd. They were urging me on — urging me to push Chloe over the edge yet again.

When she came, her thighs clamped hard round my head and her juices squirted into my mouth. She didn't let me go for a long time. She just lay there, writhing, with my mouth on her open cunt.

Finally, though, she let me come up for air. When I looked into her face, I saw triumph there.

'Now fuck me,' she said. 'Fuck me hard.' And she opened her legs again, to invite me in.

Paula waved a condom at us, and my mother sat up and took the packet. She split the foil with a thumb nail, then popped the rubber in between her lips. She took my cock in her mouth again, and I felt her tricky tongue deftly manipulating the condom onto me. Then she lay down and waited, with a challenge in her eyes.

I hesitated for maybe a second, then I lay over her and squirmed in between her thighs. I pushed my cock end up against the slick warmth of her slit and thrust it in. I buried myself in her and felt her gasp almost before I heard it.

And then I fucked my mother.

I don't know how long I lasted. Chloe was so lithe under me, and her cunt was so wet, so slippery, but so tightly moulded to my cock, that I lost all sense of time. But I know I fucked her hard, with all my reservations banished.

I remember how I came. I was staring down into her face — and her eyes were open all the time. When it hit me, when the spasm struck, my back curved rigid and my mother stiffened too. We froze for a long moment as my sperm pumped out.