My Promiscuous Mom Pt. 01

I sat myself down in the next cube, and heard Mom clicking on her keyboard and occasionally getting up and filing stuff. A couple of times someone, always men it seemed, came down the aisle and dropped something off on her desk. "Hi, Linda," one middle-aged guy said,

"Hi", Mom cheerfully answered back.

"If I'd known you were wearing the read top today, I would've dropped by earlier!" The guy was crudely flirting with my mom!

I waited for her to chew the guy out for being a jerk. But instead, she just said, "Oh, I wore it just for you."

"You look good enough to eat," he quipped. Mom just moaned, and the guy moved on.

Minutes later, some middle-aged man stopped in and said, "I need you to make corrections to this."

In no mood for homework, I looked around for a way to peek at Mom in the next cube. I figured out that there was a small gap between two partitions, and if I put my eye right up to it, I could see Mom standing up next to the middle-aged guy. He had his left arm around her as he explained what he wanted changed to the report in his right hand. His hand slid down her back, below her waist, and rested on her left butt cheek. Mom was letting some jerk at work grope her ass! When he finished explaining his changes, he patted her butt twice, kissed her on the cheek, and casually walked away. Mom sat down and continued typing like nothing happened.

A younger guy in his mid-twenties stopped in and sat himself down on Mom's desktop. He didn't have any work; he just wanted to flirt. "Have I told you today you look particularly alluring?"

"Actually, yes," Mom replied.

"This is one of my favorite tops of yours," he said.

ONE of? She wears other tops that sleazy?

The young guy reached down and ran his right index finger down along the edge of her scooping top, and circled it over her exposed cleavage. Mom's tits were pushed together; there was no gap between her big hooters. He slid the digit into the crevice of her cleavage, and poked it in and out, like he was finger-fucking her cleavage. Mom just kept typing, until the man had had his fun, and then left.

Moments later, an old guy came out of the office opposite Mom's cube. Mom actually hadn't worked here real long, so I didn't recognize him as Tom, her boss, although I'd heard her mention his name a few times.

"Let me read what you've written so far," he ordered. Tom stood directly behind Mom as she typed, and put his hands on her shoulders while reading whatever was on Mom's computer screen.

"Yea, that looks good," he said, still reading. I could see his eyes leave the monitor, and his head look down at Mom's tits. "I've been so busy with meetings today that I haven't had any time for these." He slid both of his palms down Mom's chest, and over her tight sweater and bra. I could see his fingers curl around Mom's tits, and get a good squeeze of them. His fingers continued to wiggle, and his palms slowly circled over the jugs as Mom arched her back and purred.

Leaning forward in the next cube, with my eye up to the tiny gap, I watched my mom's boss feel her tits, while I sat with a throbbing hard-on. Mom didn't act like this was anything unusual. She just kept her hands on the keyboard, (although she wasn't typing), with a little smile on her face, as her breasts were kneaded over her sweater. Mom was sitting sideways from me, and it appeared that Tom's right hand was disappearing into Mom's sweater. Certainly the red fabric puffed out. I suspected that it was inside her bra, feeling her bare tit. I was having trouble controlling my breathing, trying not to make noise.

"Why don't you come into my office for a few minutes?" requested Tom.

"My son is here to drive me home," said Mom, motioning her head to my cubicle. I backed away, and heard Tom head back alone into his office.

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On the drive home, Mom had her blouse on again to conceal her slutty outfit. She was behind the wheel of the minivan. "Did you get your homework done?" She asked.

I didn't waste time. "Mom, you let your boss grope you!" I said.

Mom took a quick glance my way, then back onto the road. She paused to consider her reply. "Brad, those kind of things happen at work. People get bored, and do a little flirting. It's harmless. It helps me keep my job. I'll bet that sort of thing happens at your dad's office, too."

"Mom, that wasn't a little flirting. You let a guy fondle your boobs!"

"So he felt me up a little. It isn't really CHEATING."

I pulled out the "dad" card. "Do you think Dad would see it the same way if I told him?"

Mom took a deep breath. "No, PLEASE don't tell your dad."

"Why shouldn't I?" We'd already established a pattern. Whatever I saw someone do to Mom, I got to do to her, to insure my silence. But a little peek at underwear, or a squeeze of a butt, or a little kiss, wasn't like letting your son fondle your tits. I didn't say anything. Mom looked over at me, and saw me staring at her chest.

"No, THAT wouldn't be right," she said, and we both knew what "THAT" was. She continued driving, looking straight ahead, while I considered what to say next.

Finally, I retorted, "Maybe I'll let Dad decide what's right."

Mom was in deep thought as she continued driving home. Suddenly, she took a right turn off the main road, and onto a wooded lane. She pulled the van to the side, and put it in park. Without a word, she unfastened her seat belt, unbuttoned her blouse, threw it open, and turned to face me.

In the dim evening light I could see her red sweater. I couldn't believe she was going to let me do this. I reached over with my right hand. I placed it over her chest, and moved it down over her left tit. I took a squeeze.

I was surprised at how flimsy her bra was. It was just a thin piece of fabric, no padding, and I could easily squeeze her melon. With no objection from my silent mom, I put my left hand on her right tit, and quickly, too eagerly really, squeezed and kneaded both of Mom's big tits. I could feel a pair of hard nipples protruding through her sweater. Mom involuntarily took a deep breath and sighed, as if she were enjoying it, although she said nothing. But the corners of her mouth were quivering, as she valiantly tried to suppress a smile.

Mom arched her back and whimpered, her eyelids lowering, smiling. I lifted the heavy monsters, squeezed, and jiggled them.

I slid my right hand inside of the scooping top, and tried to move it into her bra cup. But Mom said, "No, that's far enough," and grabbed my wrist.

"But Tom did."

"No, he didn't."

"Yes, he did," I insisted.

"Well, you don't get to," she said. She smiled as she said it, but then took my hands off her tits, quickly buttoned up her blazer, buckled her seat belt, and put the car into gear. Eventually Mom started asking me how school went today, but it was a forced conversation. All I could think about was the vision of Mom's boss squeezing her tits, and the wonderful feeling of having my own hands all over them. "Shit," I thought to myself, "My mom is such a slut!"

END OF PART 1