Playing the Part

I nodded, then realised I was drinking too quickly, and told her I was getting a glass of water.

Her alternate birthday party opened my eyes about some of mom's friends...and her! I'd called Arthur's stepmom, as over the years, his parents and mom had become friendly. I wanted a surprise party for mom, but knew she'd expect something, hence the party at her home. Naomi loved to organise things like parties and told me she'd organise everything. I just had to tell her how many guests. I told her only 20.

What I got was far more than I could have ever imagined! I told mom I'd hired a restaurant for a private function. But told her friends to pack an overnight bag and expected to be gone from Friday evening and return home on Sunday night. We got a minibus to a rundown restaurant out in the sticks and seeing the look of disappointment on mom's face was priceless. Then I led everyone around the side of the building to see 3 gleaming stretch limos.

They whisked us away to a small airport and drove right up to a private jet. Naomi had pulled a lot of strings for mom. Nobody, but me, knew where we were going, and mom applied a lot of pressure to get me to spill. The flight was over 4 hours, and everyone was flagging until they saw road signs from the next set of limos, saying Florida Keys.

We ended up at a bar that reminded me of the bar from the 'Finder' TV show. Now obviously I could have done that closer to home. But the destination was for the person hired to entertain us. Mom loved a particular singer/songwriter from the 70s and early 80s. But never had the chance to see him in concert. He'd retired, leaving only a few CDs of his music as his legacy.

Arthur's dad had talked the guy into a special performance for mom. When she saw him, she burst into tears and hugged me so hard, I thought she'd crack my ribs. Despite nearing 70 years of age, he was still great and sang directly to my mom. After he finished, he went to the bar's office to pack up, and mom went to thank him personally.

After 20 minutes with no sign of mom, I went to look for her. Only to find Sara outside the office door and ensuring nobody walked in on mom and the singer. Sara was pretty drunk and grinned, then held up a finger for silence. Then cracked open the door, so I could peek inside.

What I saw was quite a shock. The old guy was in a chair with his eyes closed. Mom was in front of him, kneeling, and the regular bobbing of her head told me she wasn't bobbing for apples. Sara shut the door and I tried to push the image from my head.

She whispered mom had told her she'd waited over 30 years, for the chance to do that. When mom came back with a glow on her face, it was hard not to see her in a new light.

When the party wound down, the bar owner guided us to a field full of mini airstream campers. Everyone was pretty drunk and piled into the campers. I took one close to the bar but struggled to sleep. It was hot and humid with no AC. And my mind kept flicking back to the image of the back of mom's head as she sucked her favourite musician.

Without meaning to, I got hard. I was so used to seeing her as a mom and not a woman, it was difficult to reconcile the two. In the abstract, I knew she was sexually active at times. But seeing her doing it, brought it home to me. Listening to some of mom's friends drunkenly sneaking into each other's campers wasn't helping either.

Back in the now, I poured a pint of water into a glass, and swallowed a mouthful, before returning to mom in the living room. After sitting, I gestured for mom to continue with her story.

"We arrived at the mansion to be greeted by the woman who had approached us in the bar. She explained the rules again, and about the tattoos. Snowdrop, buttercup and so on."

"What did the buttercup mean?"

"OK, the snowdrop meant you'd allow kissing and light touching over the clothing."

"You'd allow it?"

"It's part of the thing. You cannot refuse either male or female attention, but you can walk away after a few moments. It's impolite to try again if that happens. Anyway, buttercup is the snowdrop, but with touching under the clothing. Without penetration."

Mom looked at me to see my reaction, but I hid it behind my glass of wine.

"And what type of tattoo did the woman have?"

"A cluster of fuchsias. And as I know you're about to ask about that. I'll explain. A single fuchsia means that you're open to receiving oral sex. A cluster means you're open to receiving and giving. Anyway, she guided us around the party, and it was bizarre, listening to her talking like a grandmother, as we saw so much skin.

"She'd first come to the parties about 10 years previously, when her second husband passed away. She'd been in a similar position as Sara, only she knew every man who dated her, would be looking at her deceased husband's fortune. So, the parties gave her an outlet without that worry. Then 3 years ago she'd met another true guest, and they had spent the entire night just talking.

"They agreed to meet in a more regular dating arrangement, fell in love and married. However, neither were spring chickens and enjoyed the parties. So, they agreed to continue going, as long as they told the other what they had done. He would be frisky for weeks after every party. She only showed us the things in the first few rooms at the party, then sat and said she needed a rest.

"Sara wanted to see more, but I'd thought I'd seen enough for one night. So, she walked off alone. After a minute a couple walked up to the older woman and asked if she wanted anything. He was dressed in only a loin cloth with a golden sheen to his skin and she was petite, wearing only a thong and angel wings. The mature woman smiled at me and asked me to excuse her.

"The young woman grinned and dropped to her knees. Lifted the ladies dress up to her waist and latched her mouth over the woman's pussy. Then the woman hooked her fingers into his loin cloth and extracted his semi hard dick. Now I'm not a prude, as you saw in Florida..."

"Wha..." I exclaimed.

"Come off it. You weren't the only one Sara opened that office door for. She found it disproportionately exciting, that my son saw me sucking off my favourite singer."

"Wow!" Was the best I could manage.

"Yeah, Sara has been a lot wilder than you'd think, over the last few years. I should know."

"From the parties, right?" I asked.

"From the parties, and a few times we've partied together."

My mind jumped to a conclusion, that my rational brain rejected. Until mom made a V with her fingers and stuck her tongue through it. Then giggled, as I blushed.

"Anyway, watching the trio made me a little uncomfortable at the time. Especially as the girl between her legs was rubbing my legs as if I would be next. Luckily, I saw a blushing Sara hurrying back, and she gawked at our guide before dragging me to the door. She wouldn't tell me exactly what she'd seen. However, 3 months later insisted that we not only went again but wear a tattoo."

"Wow. I would never have thought of that from Sara."

"Gives you a whole new perspective on her, if you still fancy her."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, come off it. I knew you had a thing for her when you were a teenager. You would look at her like a lost puppy, then leave the room if she talked to you. And of course, she knew. Want to know another secret?"

As if tonight wasn't full of secrets already.

"She admitted to me, after about a gallon of wine, that when she saw you in those speedo trunks you wore at 18. She had more than one improper thought about you. Despite her being married at the time. She'd have happily guided you in the ways of the world."

"Probably too late by then," I replied, and instantly regretted it.

"Who was it? Who took my baby's innocence?" Her momsy tone of voice did not marry up with the question.

I wasn't about to tell her about my fencing instructor and her daughter. Or how I'd kissed and cuddled the younger, until her mom showed me the good stuff.

"Can you take my shoes off and massage my feet?" She asked.

"Ew." I replied, holding my nose, as if implying her feet smelled.

It was an old joke from when I was a teenager.

"Given what else of my body you've had your hands on tonight. You turn your nose up at my feet?"

She was right, and it wasn't like I'd not done it many times before. But that was when she was just mom. The context here, was drastically different. Finding her at that party, the things we'd done together, and the things she'd revealed about herself. Add in, with her laying there like something that had stepped out of a wet dream, made it very difficult.

I knelt next to her and removed one high-heeled shoe and tried to ignore how sexual the moan of pleasure sounded, as I massaged her foot.

"At the next party, we both took snowdrop tattoos, but usually I go for the buttercup."

The wine in my mouth became hard to swallow as mom looked at me intently at that revelation. The image of men, and women, kissing mom, was odd. The image of them touching her under her clothes made my erection return, and I was glad I was hunched over her feet, so mom wouldn't see it.

The fact I'd done that myself, made it hard to think straight. Technically it had only been her ass I'd touched under her clothes, but way more than a son should do. Things were blurring between 'mom' and the sexy woman before me.

"The thing is about the tattoos is that they don't restrict you from doing more yourself. It only stops others from doing things to you unbidden. So, I've done more at the parties than simply touching. But usually, I prefer more privacy. I'd meet a suitable guy, and we'd come back here."

She'd been staring at the ceiling, lost in the memories, when she gave a little shudder. I had to wonder if that was just her memories or if she'd just climaxed. She lifted her foot away, and I was greeted with an open crotch display, before she held her other foot out for me.

"How come Sara wasn't with you? I presume you normally go together?"

"Time of the month." She explained. "But she insisted I go and tell her the 'blow by blow.'" Mom sniggered and downed the rest of the wine.

I refilled our glasses and noted the bottle was empty.

"What's so funny mom?"

"Sara had progressed from a buttercup girl and dared me to do more. So tonight, I chose a fuchsia cluster." She looked down at me to gauge my reaction. Her cheeks and upper chest were flushed.

I knew, growing up, that mom had some sexual encounters. She'd admitted to sleeping with my personal trainer and dietitian, but I tried not to think about what she actually did. Ever since I'd seen her with the singer at her party, it was harder to ignore that she gave blow jobs, and natural to think of the guy returning the favour. Even if I tried to avoid thinking about the details.

Especially at that moment, with her thighs open and the shiny PVC barely covering her pussy. But it was another thing to come to terms that she'd do that and receive that from other women.

Her other foot brushed across my inner thigh. "You know I'm good at that. After watching me in that office."

"I saw you for like 2 seconds." I retorted and put her foot down and slid a little away from her.

"Really, Sara said you watched, for like a full minute."

"Nope, I think she was winding you up."

Damn, I wanted to go back to my chair, but if I stood mom would see my erection. However, given she'd felt it against her as I fingered her. No! I'd not fingered her. Her hand pressed against mine. Trying to reject the memories, I stood and turned. Picking up my water glass and downing it.

Mom spoke again, and she sounded pretty drunk.

"You don't need to hide it honey. You should be proud of it. In fact, if things had turned out a little differently tonight. I'd have been on my knees in front of you now, proving my oral skills." She took a drink. Then blurted out. "I didn't mean you, I meant another lucky guy. The one I was going to work out months of sexual frustration with."

"I like we can be open about things, mom. But sometimes I wish we weren't."

She sniggered.

"So, what's with that costume?" I asked to change the subject.

"Don't ask! This was Sara's idea. She got it for herself, but insisted I wear it. It was bloody murder putting it on. Baby powder all over me and both of us tugging it on. She had to grab handfuls of my tits to get them in there."

Again, the image of that bypassed my normal censoring of what I thought my mom got up to.

"Actually, I'm gonna get changed. It's pretty swampy under the PVC."

I nearly commented that I knew. Having my hands on her ass under the PVC.

As she got up and swayed towards her room, I couldn't help looking at her ass. Remembering the warm soft feel of her flesh and I could admit to myself I'd loved it. Hell, I had loved touching her. Wrong as it was.

I went to the bathroom to relieve myself and heard grunting coming from mom's room.

"You OK mom?" I asked, with a grin on my face.

"No! Fucking thing!"

I walked back into the living room and sat. Only for mom to come back a minute later.

"You're gonna have to help me."

"Seriously?" I replied.

"Yes! Look, I know this is awkward for both of us. But I can't exactly wander down the street at this time of night on the off chance of waking Sara up. And this thing is too tight to sleep in. I might get some version of DVT."

"I know but..."

"Given how much I rubbed against you and made you touch me, this isn't that much more. They're just tits." She said and cupped her boobs.

Touching her to get the costume off was one thing, but I'd also see her naked. She damn well wasn't wearing underwear under that.

Under my breath I replied. "Yours aren't just tits. They're awesome. How do we do this?" I added, in as normal a tone as I could manage.

"Sara stood behind me on the chair and reached over my shoulders."

I saw myself standing behind her to push the outfit down, and all I saw was my hands and then arms brushing over her tits.

"How about I kneel in front of you with my eyes closed?" I offered.

Mom lifted her arms as I knelt and hooked my fingers under the PVC near her armpits. Closed my eyes and pulled. After a moment I understood why the pair had such difficulties getting it on. As the PVC was pulled lower, the swell of her breasts made it far tighter.

"Fuck Trey! Hurry. It feels like you're trying to tear my tits off."

I looked briefly at her, to see way more boob flesh of my mother than I should. But more was to come. The edge of the outfit exposed the edge of a puckered areola. I winced as I imagined it must be painful to crush her nipple like that. Closing my eyes, I shifted my grip from the sides, and hooked my fingers in the narrow confines of her exposed cleavage and pulled hard.

Mom yelped as the PVC shifted and the pressure released as her boobs came free.

"Oh, thank God. Ew!" She exclaimed, and I opened my eyes automatically to be greeted by two disturbing sights.

The first was my mom's breasts. Disturbing in that it wasn't something I should see. But something I was glad I had. They were more impressive in the flesh than I might ever have imagined. Large and inviting, but with a red mark where the outfit had originally ended, and another fainter mark across the middle of her breasts.

The second disturbing thing was the goo on her fingers. I blinked as my first thought was cum, but I realised it was a mixture of sweat and baby powder that had gathered under her breasts. When I looked up, I saw her looking at me with a hint of insecurity on her face.

I didn't risk saying anything, as 'awesome,' was the only thing that came to mind. So, I gave her a reassuring smile.

I could rationalise her needing help to remove the costume. She was right that she couldn't sleep in it. I could suck it up seeing her naked if she could. Of course, it might be easier on me if she didn't look like she was enjoying my discomfort.

"Can you get a towel?" Mom asked me.

"Sure." I replied and hurried to the kitchen.

Letting out a deep sigh. The revelations of this evening would forever change my relationship with her. Seeing her topless wasn't that big a deal, was it? Logically it shouldn't be, but logic could fuck off. Logic couldn't count the number of Montgomery glands on her areola, from the memory burned into my mind. Logic wouldn't get a hard-on after grabbing its mother's ass or tits, nor rubbing her pussy until she'd nearly cum.

I'd finish helping her and go directly to bed. My bed, I clarified, directing the thought to my treacherous penis. I'm a trained actor, I could pull off indifference. If he wasn't waving back proving it was all a lie. I'd sleep, if I could, then leave the house before mom got up. And make some excuse not to see her for a few months.

Perhaps then what I'd seen wouldn't be so vivid. Then I groaned, as I picked up a towel. Her tits were only round one, of what I was going to see.

I returned with the towel and held it out to her, but she just held her hands out and I wiped each clean. Trying not to stare at her exposed breasts. Considering their size and her age, there was very little sag. From the look on mom's face, she knew I was looking, while pretending not to. But hey! I'm a guy and tits are tits. And these were amazing. The fact they belonged to mom, made me feel guilty, but this was her decision to let me see them.

Now I thought about it we could have covered her with a beach towel, and I'd have seen nothing. As I thought that I hated myself for not mentioning it to her. Despite knowing it was wrong some part of me wanted to see all of her.

I held out the towel again after I'd done her hands.

"You do it. I don't want to get my hands messy again."

I frowned, but mom had always been a bit of a germophobe and neat freak. Her minimalist furniture proved that. Wiping her clean was just helping, right? After all, she wiped a lot worse off me as a baby. And scrubbed me clean in the bath for years.

"It kinda looks like cum, doesn't it? I wouldn't mind that on my hands, as I'd yummy it all down in a moment." She spoke as if I wasn't there.

That wasn't helping.

"You want me to..."

"You've already had your hands on them. Why should it be that much different without the outfit in the way?"

I was sure she was fucking with me, and the moment I touched her she'd slap my hand away and ask what the hell I was playing at. But that didn't add up. And knowing that mom liked to eat cum, was making it very hard to think clearly. I gently brushed the towel over the exposed flesh, keeping my fingers covered with the towel.

"Don't forget the undersides. That's where most of the stuff is. You'll need to lift a boob to do it properly."

I hesitated until I realised it would look like I was dragging this out to look at her longer. Now I wished I brought a larger towel. Between the size of mom's breasts and the small towel, it wasn't big enough to lift and wipe. So, I reached out and cupped a breast. Lifting it, my thumb passed through the goo and slipped. Causing it to flick across her already hard nipple.

"Sorry,"

"It's OK. I'm sure it was an accident. But if you do it another dozen times, I might think differently." She grinned at me, and I shook my head.

I knew she could be playful when drinking, but this was different. I had to put it down to the stress from earlier at the party with those assholes stalking her. Let her work it out her way. Perhaps by flirting with someone 100% safe was her pressure valve.

After cleaning both breasts as quickly and gently as I could, I dropped the towel. Mom was looking down between us, at the bulge in my trousers. If she wasn't bothered by this, why should I? If she needed proof that she still had it in the sexiness department. Having her son get an erection around her, was stronger proof and any words.