Truth or Dare with My... Mom? Ch. 01

I pulled out my phone and found the video, popping in my earbuds and then hitting 'Play'.

"Gnnnnnnnnn! Fuck me! Fuck me! Make me cum!"

Daaaaaaaamn...

Yes, the image of my mom was blurry, but I already knew what she looked like, and interposing her over the blur was easy enough in my mind. Mom rocking back and forth, her eyes closed as she fucked herself on that wall-mounted dildo. My hard-on was straining almost painfully. If I went upstairs and jacked off, there was no way in Hell she wouldn't hear me.

I got up and went down to the basement, where there was plenty of room and the laundry machines. No sooner was I downstairs than I had almost ripped off my jeans and taken down my boxers. I moved over to the sink that was next to the washer and began jacking off almost feverishly, images of my mom getting herself off already in my head before I stared at my phone and hit 'Play'.

"Fuck... fuck... Ohhhhh, fuck that's good... fuck me hard..."

I'm not sure I've ever cum so fast in my recent adult life, or that hard. I thought I was going to rip my dick off as I jerked, feeling the cum shoot up my shaft and explode into the sink in front of me as I desperately attempted to aim while keeping my eyes glued to my phone screen.

My mom started coming down in the video about the same time as I did, and I almost dropped to my knees the way she had. My hand had finally milked me of cum, and I leaned against the sink, breathing heavily. Holy shit, that was something.

I watched the video until the end and then found the energy to clean myself up. I washed out the sink of all my jizz, hoping I didn't miss any spots. I felt, tired, spent, and very satisfied. Masturbating while watching blurred video of my mom getting herself off was one of the best orgasms I'd ever experienced.

I wearily went back upstairs and folded the blanket she'd put me under back in its place on the chesterfield. I managed to clean up our debris in the kitchen, not leaving it for the morning (that was inconsiderate to mom), then plodded up to my room, mostly closing the door behind me. I almost collapsed onto my bed, still buck naked and rolled onto my back. I stared at the ceiling of my dark room and felt myself fading from consciousness.

I slept the sleep of the well-sated, if not the damned for what I'd done.

***

Saturday morning...

I woke up to the smell of coffee, eggs, and bacon downstairs, and I smiled. The spring sun was straming through my window, and I stretched my long frame, realizing I was naked on top of my covers.

Oh, right, last night...

I had to make sure I hadn't dreamed that whole thing, especially the bit with my mom getting her rocks off in her bathroom. I found my phone near my pillow and made sure to turn down the volume before going to my galley, finding the video, and hitting 'Play'...

Yep, there it was in all its silhouetted glory. And damned if my cock didn't stir and begin getting stiff immediately.

I was tempted to toss one out, but the coffee and food was smelling so good that I decided to forgo my morning ritual and go downstairs instead. I got up and put on some boxer shorts, followed by a white shirt. Then I went across the hall to splash cold water on my face and then run my hands under it, hoping to get rid of my hard-on. Once it finally disappeared, I drained the lizard and headed downstairs, ready to meet the day.

"Morning, mom," I said as I headed into the kitchen. She was facing away from me, at the stove, clearly on a roll making breakfast. She was wearing her favourite robe, a silky dark blue thing that cinched at the waist and showed off all her curves. She paused and turned around to face me, and I had to try hard to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head when she smiled at me. The top of her robe was somewhat loose, opened to show the valley between her lovely breasts. One of her long, shapely legs was showing from the opening below the belt.

"Hello, baby," she sighed, sounding so very happy to see me. She put down her spatula as I approached and pulled me into a warm hug. Body to body like this, separated only by her robe (and anything underneath) and my t-shirt and boxers, I really hoped the beast didn't stir to life, because there was no way in Hell she wouldn't feel it. "Mmmmm, you smell like a young man who just woke up, I love it."

"Glad you like whatever that is," I said, holding her in the hug. She smelled lovely too, and she was so soft. I ended the hug before I popped a boner on her and smiled down at her. "So what's with the grand slam breakfast this morning?"

"We just haven't done it in a while," she answered, turning back to her bacon and pancakes now. "And I woke up feeling exceptionally refreshed and lively this morning, so after my exercise, I thought I'd put it to good use."

"Well I ain't objecting, for sure," I said, getting the plates and glasses ready while she cooked. "I'm glad you're in such a good mood. Did you make up for your sucky date?"

"Naughty of you to ask," she lilted, not denying my assertion. "I'll be honest, at one point, I was worried you might hear me."

"Sorry," I laughed, dodging her inference by not answering directly. "You know, I sleep like the dead."

"I know, and I came down to check on you in the living room where you fell asleep," she cooed, smiling at me. "I'm glad you eventually went to bed, though, more comfy for a growing boy."

"I guess that's true," I said, nodding as I set the table for this breakfast feast she had planned. "Sorry if I left my door wide open."

"Oh, I just ducked my head in to see if you'd made it upstairs, baby," she said casually, but with a bit of a smirk. "Do you always sleep above your sheets?"

"Oh, uh, no, not always," I answered, blushing and rubbing the back of my head. "Sorry if you... saw anything."

"It's not a problem, honey," she said in her soothing voice. "I looked in on you, after all, you can be in your own room in any state of undress you like."

She looked over her shoulder and winked. "For the record, though, Gina is a total idiot."

"Thanks," I laughed, relieved by how surprisingly easy this morning was. I came up behind her and hugged her. Mom seemed to sigh and almost snuggled back against me, my hands on the knotted silk belt of her robe. "Thanks for this, mom. And for last night, I feel a lot better this morning because of it."

"Oh, I understand completely, Aaron," mom cooed, reaching up one hand to stroke my cheek gently. It almost felt like I was holding a lover, not just my mom. "I probably would've been pretty grumpy all weekend too, but you made it better. Thank you, baby."

I hugged her tight for a moment and then let go to get the juice and pour coffee. The beast was threatening to stir again, so I thought it best to keep moving before she noticed. Once she was done with the food, I pulled her away from the stove and made her sit, pulling her seat out for her.

"Such a gentleman," she said as she sat down. "I take it you're serving?"

"You did all the hard work, I'll do my part," I pointed out. Once she was seated, I poured coffee and juice for her and then brought over the food, setting it down between us, along with butter, maple syrup, cream, and sugar. "Dig in, mom."

"Don't mind if I do," she said, nodding and helping herself to some pancakes. "To be honest, I'm starving."

"Real workout last night?" I quipped, grinning at her.

Mom blushed but them smirked back. "Cheeky. But since we were being so honest last night, yes, I guess I did do an excellent job taking care of business, and maybe that helps account for my appetite this morning. What about you? Any extra appetite because of late-night recreational activities, or is this just a ravenous teenage boy who eats everything in sight that I see before me?"

"Y'sound like Gina, mom," I said, making her jolt slightly and almost do a spit-take with her orange juice before putting it down and giggling.

"Aaron, you are so bad," she said through her laughter. "Saying things like that to your mother. Like I need to know about my little boy's culinary habits when he's dining out on teenage girls."

"Just bein' honest," I said with a shrug. "Kind of a relief, really, because otherwise it's just locker room talk with my buddies, and that can get pretty stupid and crass."

She nodded thoughtfully. "It's not much different with the other ladies in the locker room at the gym, I admit. Maybe it's just so refreshing to have you to be honest with."

"You know you don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable, right, mom?" I offered. I wanted her to stay comfortable, of course, but I wasn't going to keep pressing and force it on her.

"Oh, I know," she said, nodding as she put some paprika on her eggs before getting into them. "Trust me, if you said anything I didn't like, you'd have a warm bottom so quickly, young man. You'll never be too old that I can't take you over my knee."

"Noted," I laughed, enjoying our banter and hoping it would continue. She looked at her orange juice again thoughtfully. "Baby, thank you for the juice, but I have an idea for something even better. Are you game?"

I shrugged and nodded. Mom got up from the table and wiggled over to her wine rack. She bent over as she seemed to count her way down the bottles, and not staring at her ass under that robe was absolutely impossible. Did she even realize she was showing it to me?

Her butt perked up for a moment as she found whatever she was looking for, and she turned and wiggled back to the table holding a bottle and two glass champagne flutes. "Do you know what a mimosa is, Aaron?"

"Uhhhh, isn't it champagne and OJ?" I posited.

Mom nodded. "Right, champagne or sparkling wine, at least. But it's a drink that's meant to go with a lavish breakfast, it gets served a lot on Mother's Day."

I nodded. "I remember them serving it to you complimentary when we went to that nice restaurant for breakfast on Mother's Day a few years ago. Is it good?"

"It's delicious, in fact," she said, opening the bottle and then pouring orange juice into the flutes before topping them with the bubbly. "Let's celebrate being rid of assholes in our lives with some morning drinking, okay?"

"Well, if you say so," I said, taking the drink from her as she pushed it to me.

"Hey, it's champagne, so it's classy," she pointed out, now holding out her glass. "To life without douchebags and slags."

"To my mom, who's been a real eye-opener for the last twelve hours," I laughed, clinking my glass gently against hers and then sipping. Mom just knocked hers back like a pro.

"We'll only get about three glasses each out of this, so no point in holding back," she said as she refilled her glass.

I chuckled and drained mine, letting her refill it. We then attacked our food, since we were both very hungry. Mom ate about as readily as I did, and I had to admit, I was surprised. Those orgasms must've really fired up her metabolism.

"God, I'm gonna have to run a marathon to keep all this food from going to my waist and my bum," she said, but she kept eating. "Does all the lacrosse, hockey, and pickup basketball really help you burn off all those carbs you take in?"

"Seems to," I said easily, chewing on some bacon. "It sure ain't from sitting in my chair playing Call of Duty with the guys."

"Call it a hunch," mom agreed. "Speaking of, are you going to be online all day?"

I thought about that. "Mom, only if I'm not spending the day with you, because I'd rather do that."

Mom's turn to think about what I'd said. "You would?"

I nodded. "Mom, I enjoyed last night, and before you came home, I was really pissed off and grumpy. We made each other feel better. If I go and play my games, I'm just hiding. Last night, I got to vent and complain and tell off my bitch of an ex, at least to you. And I'm guessing you felt the same."

I looked at her levelly. "I would much rather continue where we left off last night and get it out of my system than just avoid thinking about it. I don't care if it takes today and tomorrow. If you're game for it, I am too."

"I guess I can't believe you'd wanna spend time with your tired old mom," she said.

"Tired old mom?" I almost blurted. "The woman who made this feast this morning? The same woman who I just found out is bisexual and not above extramarital sex and prefers to not use condoms? Who the Hell is this 'tired old mom' you're talking about? Because I don't see her anywhere."

Mom blushed. "Thank you, baby," she said quietly. "That's very kind of you to say. I guess... I guess last night's little debacle with Ted rattled my self-confidence, you know?"

"Mom, pardon my French, but Ted's a fucking moron," I said firmly. "It's good that he dumped you, and I'm betting he only suggested that threesome thing as a diversion. He couldn't keep up with you in bed, could he?"

Mom blushed again. "Well, seemingly not."

"Then you're better off without him," I announced.

"Just like you're better off without Gina?" she asked, looking for parity.

I nodded. "I'll find some other girl who doesn't mind getting naked for me."

"That should take you all of fifteen minutes," mom quipped, winking at me. "You're such a charmer, after all."

We continued eating, and sure enough, we each got three drinks out of the champagne bottle. Three mimosas is nowhere near enough to get either mom or I drunk, or even buzzed, but the mood was certainly as light as the fizzy drink itself. Once we'd eaten our fill, I cleaned the table quickly and then got ready to do the dishes.

"Let's do them together," mom suggested. "Been forever since we've done that."

I nodded and made room for her at the sink, but I insisted on washing while she rinsed and dried. We kept bantering and talking about silly things, and toward the end of the chore, mom reached up a suds-covered hand and wiped it across my lower face, giving me a bubbly goatee. I retaliated by turning the small sink hose on her and gave her a quick blast of warm water. Mom squealed and danced away while I laughed.

She turned and mock-glared at me, her eyes dancing with mirth. The front of her robe was soaked and clung to her curvaceous body enticingly, although I'm not sure she noticed.

"You little brat," she giggled. "Finish up while I go change into something dry..."

I chuckled to myself as I finished putting everything away and then waited by the sink. I didn't know if I was supposed to go get changed as well, but since mom hadn't said anything, I simply waited in my boxers and t-shirt, which was very often my weekend attire, at least in the morning. It never bothered mom that I walked around like a teenage slob boy, as long as I didn't smell bad.

She was back soon enough, having changed into another robe, this one kind of scarlet, and rather shorter than the first. She seemed to have tied the top a little tighter this time. More of her long legs were on display, not that I had a problem with this. Little Aaron didn't mind either, once I felt him stir.

"Okay, before I get any closer to you, back away from the sink jet, sir," mom said in a mock-stern tone, but with a smirk on her pretty face and pointing at me. I chuckled and stepped forward away from the sink, and mom came and wrapped me up in another hug, not noticing (or maybe not caring) that the hug around my shoulders raised the hem of her robe and now her panties were pressing against my boxers.

"I can't believe you want to spend the day with me," she murmured, her face next to mine. "All moms want to hear that occasionally from their sons."

I kept holding her, risking the awakening of the python. "I suppose as long as we don't spend all our time painting our toenails and eating away our feelings with Ben and Jerry's."

Mom giggled before pulling back slightly from the hug to poke me in the nose, another smirk on her pretty face. "After that breakfast, I don't know when I'll even want to eat again before Monday. But if we're not painting our nails and crying over boys, what are we doing? Let me hear your pitch, darling."

I already had my answer. "I wanna spend the whole day drinking beer or wine or whatever, and talk shit about our exes, and whoever else pisses us off."

"Baby, you're only eighteen, how many people can possibly have pissed you off yet?" mom asked.

"Well, okay, narrowing it down to girls who have wronged me, don't worry about the thirteen-year-old boys who piss me off on CoD," I qualified.

Mom giggled. "You should teach me to be a good player and then I'll tell them they all got their asses kicked by a mom. Still, are there that many girls who've hurt you?"

I shrugged. "Susie Langston in Grade Three promised to kiss me and then never did, I was mad about that."

Mom snickered. "That little hussy. But if we use this yardstick, chances are I'm gonna be the one doing most of the venting. I have more exes than you do, by two decades and change."

"I promise to keep it even," I assured her. "Now, did you find my suggestion acceptable? Any riders you wanna add?"

Mom did some thinking. "Well, if we're gonna be at this most of the day, we'll need to switch up the location to keep it from being boring."

I tilted my head. "Locations like what?"

Mom shrugged. "We started at the little coffee table last night, so we move on from there, of course. There's the dining table, the living room, the hot tub..."

"You wanna talk shit about our exes in the hot tub?" I asked in amazement.

"That's the best place to do it," mom reasoned. "You're luxuriating in a hot tub and drinking champagne, and they're somewhere not with you, which sucks for them."

"Well, not like I've never shared the hot tub with you before," I concluded with a shrug. "Okay, mom, lead on. You're the expert at this for the day."

Mom nodded and took me by the hand, leading me into the entertainment room. She gestured for me to sit on the chesterfield and smiled down at me. "We've had champagne, morning calls for beer, right? Is it too early for beer?"

"Mom, I'm an eighteen-year-old boy who's not quite nineteen yet," I laughed. "Pretty sure I'm never gonna turn down beer, no matter what time of day it is. Besides, it's happy hour somewhere, right?"

"Point," she said, nodding at me. "I've done more than my fair share of day drinking since your sucking chest wound of a father left me."

"Left us," I corrected. "I resent the Hell out of him too, mom, never doubt that."

Mom knelt down on the chesterfield and wrapped me up in a hug, trembling. "I know, baby," she whispered. "I'll try not to vent too much about him today, okay?"

"It's okay, mom," I assured her, hugging her back and trying to ignore the feel of her tits squashed down onto my chest. "I love you."

"I love you too, Aaron," she said, kissing me on the cheek and then getting back up, smiling again. "Let me go get some beer, but this time, craft. No domestic crap like Molson or Labatt."

"Okay, but no IPAs either," I called after her. "I don't have a man bun or own a Shih Tzu, after all."

I could hear mom giggling as she rummaged around in the cold storage, where we actually kept decent brews. I hadn't made it into that unit last night because I was in a foul enough mood that I just grabbed the closest bottle available, which happened to be Molson. Soon enough, mom returned with an eight-pack of Creemore.

"Lager, nice," I mused as mom handed me a bottle. Normally you needed a bottle opener, but I simply twisted mine off.

"Ooh, do it again," mom said, passing me her bottle. Pity you've got a shirt on, I could see your pecs flexing under the material as you did that."

I laughed and pulled off my shirt long enough to make a show of flexing my pecs and my core while twisting the cap off mom's bottle and then handing it to her.