My Mothers are MILFs!

But, in truth, it had been Janice, high-spirited and a rebel to the core, who had led her out of her self-imposed shell. In high school, she had been buffeted by urges from her body that she didn't understand. At a time when everyone she knew had been contentedly straight, or, in a few quiet cases, gay, she didn't fit into either category. How could she explain to people that she found both men and women attractive, and wanted to go to bed with anyone she thought was good-looking, regardless of gender? The guys thought she was playing a game with them, and the few lesbian girls she knew thought she was too scared to commit to their side. It had left her feeling isolated, outcast, and very, very alone.

That had all changed during the fall of her junior year of college. At the urging of a girl she knew, she had gone out to a bar in downtown Chicago which discreetly catered to lesbian women.

"You're new," the dark-haired woman said, leaning towards her. She had her back to the bar and a drink in her hand. "First time?"

Maureen nodded, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. "Yeah."

"So, are you looking, browsing, or buying?" She was dressed in no-nonsense business attire -- navy-blue skirt, white blouse, dark jacket - as if she had come to the club straight from the office, but she wore it with an effortless grace that made her look sexier than someone who had spent hours primping in front of a mirror. Maureen guessed she might be two or three years older than she was.

"What?"

The woman wrapped her full, pouting lips around her straw, taking a sip from her drink, which seemed to consist of something pink and fruity. There was, Maureen observed, a frilly paper parasol sticking out the top. "Let me put it another way. Are you here looking to get laid?" Her eyes shifted to a woman a few yards away. The warm smile on her face was openly inviting. "That's buying. Are you here because you're straight and you thought going to a lesbian bar would be a cheap thrill, like those girls over there?" She nodded at a table where a group five or six girls, likely from a local sorority, sat and giggled. "That's looking.

"Or are you trying to meet someone? That's browsing."

"I...I don't know," she stammered. She looked down at her hands. "I don't really know what I am. Or what I'm doing. But I'm trying to find out."

"Oh." There was a world of understanding in those dark eyes. "One of those, huh?" A pair of women, faintly predatory looks on their faces, drifted by, but were warned away with a frown and a shake of her head. "What is it? Family? Your church? A boyfriend?"

"No, none of those." Something encouraged her to unburden herself to this woman, who seemed so confident. "I like...I like women. But I like men, too. And no one seems to believe me. I mean, bisexuality's a thing, right?" she finished in a rush. "So why does everyone I meet assume I'm lying when I say that I am?"

"Well, if you were my girlfriend, I would try to keep you for myself," the woman said bluntly. When she gaped, she held out a hand. "I'm Janice."

She shook it carefully. "Maureen."

"Well, like I was saying, Mo, most people are jealous. What they have, they don't like to share. With your hair and body and tits, Lord knows a lover would try to keep you out of anyone else's bed. Especially if it was a guy's." She smirked. "She wouldn't want you to get some cock and decide that her fingers and tongue weren't good enough."

Maureen choked on her own drink at Janice's blunt language, then giggled. "That almost makes sense."

"Almost?" Janice sounded outraged, though her lips curled. "It makes all sorts of sense!

"And anyway," she continued. "I can tell you for a fact that there are a few women who come here for a drink who are bi." She met her eye boldly. "Me, for instance."

"You are? You're not... not..." A cutting phrase a girl at school had used leapt to mind. "You're not just saying that because you're using men as a life-preserver?"

"Nope." A dark, sensual look passed over that strong-boned face, and Maureen felt a nervous flutter in her belly. "Only if you think getting a good lay by a hot guy is a life-preserver. I like both sexes. I like sex with both sexes. I'm not confused. I'm not a girl who can't make up her mind. I made my peace with the way my body works a long time ago. It's not either-or. It's both please, and more, sir, more, please give me more."

She set her glass down on the bar with a faint click. "You want to go get a drink? Someplace quieter? Some place we can talk?"

Caution made her draw back a step. "Why?"

Janice leaned close, her breath warm on her cheek.

"Because I think you're the sexiest woman I have met in months.

"And you look like you need a friend."

Two nights later, they had their first date.

Three weeks later, they went to bed for the first time.

Four months later, more or less, they moved in together, though, at the time, they'd had to rent a two-bedroom apartment to hide the fact that they were a couple, and not 'just friends,' which was the mortifying lie they'd been forced to tell the rental agency. Her parents were shocked that she was in a committed relationship when she was still in school. But since a child seemed unlikely, they didn't make too much of a fuss. After a few years, Janice became an accepted part of birthday parties and holiday gatherings.

And several years later, through more toil and tribulation and dashed hopes they had ever dreamed were possible, they'd been married. After the accident which had taken away her brother and his wife, and left her with a three-year-old to raise, Maureen had worked out of the home as an independent CPA. Luckily, her income, combined with Janice's job as a freelance corporate troubleshooter, meant they were more than comfortable, and also had plenty of time for Brandon, especially during the years when they were all trying to get used to their new, unplanned household.

She sighed and smiled, but it was more sigh than smile. She was happy, truly happy. Happy in a way which had seemed impossible to the scared young woman she had once been. But sometimes she wanted more.

"What's wrong, babe?"

"What? You're a mind-reader now?"

"No." Jan leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs in front of her. "But I've known you long enough to know the way you think. Something's bothering you."

"Not really. Well, maybe," she amended, in response to Janice's raised eyebrow. She fiddled with a stray thread on her blouse. "Do you ever...I don't know. Do you ever wonder what things would be like if we weren't married?"

"How do you mean?" A corner of her mouth tucked up in an ironic smile. "What's the matter, Mo? Tired of me already? Getting the seven-year itch?"

"No, but..."

"No, but...what?"

"I haven't been with a man, Janice. Not in a long, long time."

"I know that." Her wife put her head to the side. "Neither have I. And I also know that we promised each other we wouldn't swear to be exclusive, either, since we both had desires we knew the other could never completely...satisfy."

And hadn't that caused a stir when they had read their vows to each other? Kathleen's family had finally come to grudgingly accept her and Janice as a couple, and had even attended their wedding, 'for Brandon's sake.' But several of them had been reduced to blank-faced incomprehension when their vows openly said that, while they loved each other, they couldn't promise to always be faithful. It had led Kathleen's mother to storm out of the ceremony in a fury, and it had taken some fast talking by her parents to get the older woman to even attend the reception.

"Yeah. But you know it's never worked out with a man, not since we got together. Not for either of us."

Janice conceded the point with a grim nod. There must be something wrong with most men, she thought wryly. Something in their tiny little testosterone-soaked brains that turned them into drooling idiots the instant the word 'bisexual' was spoken. Either they assumed that they were going to get dragged back to her place for a three-way with Maureen, or they thought that she had never been with a 'real man' and needed only a taste of their mighty, all-powerful man-meat to turn away from women forever.

Either way, it never turned out the way she hoped. While she wouldn't mind sharing a lover with Janice, she certainly wasn't going to let her wife in on the action until she had given the man a test-drive herself. And as far as the other was concerned, that was completely ridiculous. She wasn't going to dump her spouse for anyone. And certainly not some guy she had just met at a bar or on a dating app.

"The problem is that we've been doing things the wrong way around," Maureen observed thoughtfully. "We find a guy who we want to take to bed and then tell him that we're bi. What we need to do is find a guy who knows we're bi and see if he wants to go to bed with us. Or at least, one of us."

"Yeah? Like who?" Jan snorted. "Half of our male friends are gay. The other half are already married or in relationships. Name me one single guy that we know who you'd want to go to bed with.

"And I don't want some man our age, who's worried about his mortgage or his career or his hairline. I want someone...younger. Someone uncomplicated."

Her gaze went across the yard, and her breath caught.

Someone like Brandon.

*****

"You're insane," Maureen said later that evening. "Nuts. Cuckoo for cocoa puffs."

Christ. If Cynthia heard this conversation, she'd drive over here and drag Brandon out of the house kicking and screaming. It's bad enough having her grandson raised by bisexuals. But this!

"Tell me you're joking," she said, crossing her arms and staring at her wife. They were alone in their bedroom. Brandon and Diane were downstairs, grazing on leftovers and slowly cleaning up from the party.

"Tell me you don't think Brandon is hot as fuck," Janice retorted, staring at her challengingly.

"He's our son!"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Our adopted son. Who is hot as fuck," her dark-haired lover said with an evil smile.

Maureen sighed in exasperation, running her hands through her hair. It wasn't Janice's fault, not really. The simple truth was that, unlike Maureen, her wife was a complete outlaw when it came to sex. Most times she did a pretty good job of hiding it, content to pretend that, aside from her sexual orientation, she shared most of the ingrained prejudices of their society.

But she didn't. Not at all. Oh, she could fake it most of the time, but every once in a while, it all came bursting out. And when it did, it led to the sort of sexual experimentation that would make her parents blanch and Cynthia Hanks fall down in a dead faint. It had been her, after all, who had suggested the wording of their wedding vows. Maureen, for her part, would have been perfectly happy to promise to be faithful to Janice until the day she dropped dead. She had been so giddily happy to actually be allowed to marry the woman she loved that giving up men for the rest of her life had seemed like a reasonable sacrifice to make.

For all of her brave talk, Maureen had been raised in a conservative household. It had taken years to make her parents understand that her bisexuality wasn't a phase, or simple experimentation, but as much a part of her as her eyes or her height or her propensity to laze around in a bathrobe and read on cold winter afternoons. Janice, on the other hand, had introduced her to things that would make her parents' hair stand on end, if she ever dared to tell them about it.

"Let me make sure I have this straight," she finally said. "You're proposing that we have sex with our adopted son. That we commit incest, which is a crime." When Janice didn't say anything, she pressed her. "Well?"

"It's a stupid law," her wife muttered.

"But it is a law. Isn't it." The words were not a question.

"Yes, yes." She waved her hand irritably. "Lots of things were against the law once. Women voting. Booze back in the twenties." She paused significantly. "Gay marriage."

"You fight dirty. And so what? You think that some woman is going to take a case to the Supreme Court and argue that a state's refusal to grant her and her son a marriage license is a violation of the Equal Protection Clause?"

"It's not a terrible idea. But she wouldn't win. Not these days," Janice snorted. "Not with that group of assholes who are up on the bench now. Thank God we got our case through when we did. Otherwise we'd still be begging for a chance to be treated like real people until we all died of old age."

She shook her head. "And you're trying to distract me. Why not Brandon?"

"Aside from every legal and ethical consideration?"

"Legal. Ethical." The words were a sneer. "Made-up bullshit meant to keep everyone else in line while the rich and powerful do whatever the fuck they want. Tell me the truth, Maureen. Strip out all the taboo crap. If Brandon was...I don't know...our next-door neighbor. Wouldn't you be perfectly willing to find out what he was like in bed?"

Her voice was small. But while she had not promised to be faithful to Janice, she had sworn to always tell her wife the truth. "Yes."

"Then why not? Imagine it, Maureen." Her arms came around her and she shivered. "That strong, athletic body. That wonderful cock, just as big as Bryce's, pumping into you, filling you up..."

She pulled away. "How do you know anything about my brother's..." She trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

Janice smiled wickedly. "Oh, I asked Kathleen, back in the day. Just a little girl-talk," she added. "Kathy didn't mind, since you and me were already exclusive by then. But I was working on her. She was...curious. And if she gave in, well, it was only a matter of time until we brought Bryce in, too." She hugged herself, her nipples suddenly standing up tight under the thin blouse she was wearing. "God, all four of us? It would have been wonderful."

Maureen bit her lip, confused and surprised by the sudden spike of desire, deep in her belly. She had adored her older brother and his wife. Their deaths had left a hole in her life that had never really been filled, not even by Janice and Brandon. Was part of that hero-worship of her brother desire, denied and buried under a decade and a half of grief?

"Brandon will never do it," she said at last. "He's too busy nailing that little blonde cheerleader to even look at the two of us."

"Be nice," Janice murmured, giving her a hug. "Diane isn't some stupid bimbo. She's smart. She's just...simple. Like most kids her age are. She cares for Brandon. A lot. Anyone can see it. And she gets along with the two of us well enough."

"And Brandon cares for her. You think that he's going to dump her to get into your pants, Mom?"

Janice shrugged, her breasts brushing against hers. Even now, she couldn't stop the sudden surge of longing, deep in her belly, every time their bodies touched. It had been that way since the night she met her. There was something about her that spoke to her. Her fearless personality took her further than she would have ever traveled alone.

"Who's saying anything about dumping? Can't we love more than one person? Tell me, babe. You love me, don't you?"

"Of course I do!"

"And you love Brandon, right?"

"Yes."

"And your family?"

"You know I do."

"So what's the big deal? If I'm right and I win, all we're doing is changing one very small thing. Well, not that small, I hope," she sniggered, and Maureen was pulled into an unwilling laugh. "Our love will be more physical. Much more physical. But it will still be love. You know I would never hurt him. Or you."

"He won't do it," she said, forcing certainty into her voice.

"He will."

"Won't."

"Will. Come on, Maureen. He's young, male, and straight. Why wouldn't he jump at a chance to get laid?"

"Because he's not as crazy as you are?" Her lips curled up, challenging. "Want to make a bet on it?"

Jan grinned. "You're on. What are the rules?"

She pulled away. "Well, first we need a time-frame. Or this could go on forever. Two weeks?"

"Not long enough. I want a month."

She grimaced. "Fine. But it has to be his idea. You just can't strip and jump into his bed one night." She held up her hand. "I mean it, Jan. He has to initiate things. No pulling down his pants one afternoon and blowing him. All that means is that you took advantage of him. And that isn't fair to him. You're the adult. You're the parent. Who has the balance of power in the relationship? You do. Do what you're thinking about doing, and you're treading a very dangerous line."

"Fine." Janice acceded gracefully, which always meant she had another idea percolating in her devious little mind. "But I want your help."

Her voice held a world of suspicion. "How?"

Janice smiled.

"You'll see."

*****

A few days later, Brandon returned home from school, looking forward to nothing more interesting than an evening spent catching up on his World History term paper, which he had fallen behind on over the weekend. Between the birthday party with his family and private time with Diane the following day, he'd not been able to do as much work on it as he wanted. And now the due date of Friday was threateningly visible in the distance, and he still had three pages of a five-page paper which were still only in outline form. He'd have to bust his hump to get it finished, and Mr. Cole was not about to give him a break just because he'd turned eighteen the weekend before.

What he did not expect was to walk into the living room and be treated to the sight of Maureen and Janice making out on the couch, with an erotic movie playing on the television, the low thump of a bass beat almost, but not quite masking the sounds of skin gliding across skin. He stopped short, his feet rooted to the ground and his jaw hanging wide open.

Brandon had known, intellectually if not emotionally, that his mothers were attractive. Heck, he'd have to both blind and an idiot to not notice the way people reacted around them. Even the ones who sneered about them being bisexual behind their backs were more than happy to look at their fronts. If it wasn't the fact that half of his male classmates turned into grunting cavemen in their presence, it was also that Casey, his girlfriend before Diane, had been reduced to spiteful jealousy in their presence, constantly making snide, cutting little remarks. But what had worked in junior high and high school did not work on his parents. Mother Maureen had simply ignored it, while Mother Janice had occasionally taken the bait. She wasn't afraid to give as good as she got if the claws came out. A seemingly innocuous remark about a pair of shoes and how much Casey had paid for them had reduced her to tears, and they had broken up shortly after that.

Luckily, Diane wasn't like Casey. His girlfriend was confident enough in her own worth that she didn't have to make others feel small. She sailed through life with a smile on her lips for almost everyone, which was one of the things Brandon liked about her the most.

Though what Diane might have said when confronted with this scene, Brandon had no idea. His mothers were seated on the couch, their legs entwined. Mother Janice was wearing one of the short, clingy dresses she favored when she wasn't working. Tied with a belt at the waist, it was less a dress than a wrap, and a tug on the knot would leave it hanging wide open, almost like a bathrobe or a nightgown. And right now it was. Mother Maureen had already undone the belt, and it was open to the waist, leaving her hands to explore the dark skin of her chest and belly.