Modern Relations (part 04): Alex and her Mother (Halloween)

This is the 4th chapter of the series. Edit: Made some modifications to the story to stream line it and clear up dialog. Kevin lay semi-spooned over Alex as she finished her story. “Unfair,” he exclaimed in mock outrage. “You can’t just drop a bomb like Clayton plowing your mom, and then stop. Keep going, you bitch.” “Now be nice,” Alex admonished. “All this talk makes me thirsty. Can you be a dear and get me a drink?” she said lazily. Kevin popped up to get water for them. He filled two glasses then carried them into the bedroom, handing one to Alex. “So.. back to Clayton and your mom.” He hoped his eagerness wasn’t off putting. After placing her empty glass on the bedside table, Alex hugged her arms around her raised legs giving Kevin an apprehensive look. “I’m not sure I can talk about all that.” “Oh, yeah?” Kevin said neutrally. Other than titillation, what could it hurt? “I’ve never told anyone about that summer except it in the most vague terms. Some pretty... crazy things happened and most people wouldn’t understand.” “How bad could it be, it’s not like you fucked her,” Kevin said incredulously. Alex said nothing and held her face blank. “You didn’t...” he began. Alex maintained a direct gaze not denying it. Kevin’s mouth dropped open and his cock instantly sprang to life, “O.M.G. You fucked your...?” Alex pivoted her head back and forth, neither nodding yes nor shaking no. “I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “My cock and I are dying to know what you mean,” he said, pointing downward. “So you’re not disgusted?” “ Ummm , I guess not?” “Shocked?” she asked. He nodded his head. Alex unfolded arms and extended legs in relief. Deliberately she spread her legs, looking at Kevin. He took the cue and fell between them, placing his face directly above her rapidly heating pussy. “Let me help you relax so you can tell the tale,” he said gently placing his mouth over her pussy and probing between labia with his tongue. “Nice,” she hissed. “Ok, I’ll start with... Halloween.” Kevin bit down gently on her. “October is not summer.” Halloween was a long time from summer, and he wanted to hear about events of the summer. “Relax, Halloween is fun, too.”Alex’s Story Clayton marked boundaries for our relationship clearly right from the start. He neither shunned me nor sought me out outside of study. Our naked study sessions remained private. Neither of us gravitated to sentimentality or public displays of affection, even though we kissed and hugged frequently at home. I naturally followed his lead, quite possibly my first indication of a submissive bent. But, back to Halloween. Out of the blue Andy, a cute acquaintance from English, invited me to McMillan’s Halloween. Last year the McMillan party was the talk of the school. It had been unchaperoned, full of college kids and generally a riot of sex and scandal. It was claimed several cheerleaders had blown everybody. Naturally, expectations were high for this year’s party. I’d been fucking Clayton for weeks and I wanted to try other waters. Plus, my social status needed improvement, so I accepted. I agreed to meet Andy in front of the McMillan’s at Ten, they lived within walking distance of home. He was going as a prisoner. I scrambled for an idea and chose Catholic School Girl because I had an old tartan skirt and saddle shoes. Andy intimated awkwardly that he thought I’d make a sexy school girl. I didn’t burst his bubble. I’d look like a high school kid at a party. October in San Francisco can be super hot or cold. This was a warm one, which made wearing a skirt easier to bare. Dressed up, I stepped out of my room and bumped into Mom who was also dressed up for Halloween. She was going out with a friend. But Mom balked at my chosen outfit. “Oh honey, enough with the slumming,” she declared dragging me into her room in front of her full length mirror. She stood next to me as we examined our reflections. The contrast between the two reflected women startled me. Mom was hot, I was... in a school uniform. Mom’s devastating ensemble consisted simply of a pair of brown leather calf-high stiletto boots, blue tights, a cropped white blouse tied together beneath her ample cleavage with a knot and a tiny black suede vest. This was all topped off with a plumed hat and a red silk sash tied around her waist. Her unsupported tits, barely hidden by the unbuttoned shirt, clamored for attention. But her beautiful face won the contest. Intellectually, I always recognized mom was a Betty. She shunned makeup as a rule, and wore it lightly when she did put it on. Tonight she was decked out. “Wow Mom, your face... you ’re gorgeous.” Mom always dressed up for Halloween to attend parties, Had she always dressed like this? “Thanks sweetie. You’re not so bad, either,” she lied. Mom looked me over and said, “First rule of a successful Halloween, Honey. Dress like the hooker version of... whatever .” “Mom!” “Well, it’s true,” she admitted poking her chin up at the mirror image of me. I could smell wine on her breath. A bottle of something red and a half empty glass rested on her dresser. Her schedule and ethics prevented frequent drinking. I’d rarely seen her drink more than a cocktail. Apparently, wine emboldened her. “Halloween is the best! On no other day can a woman dress up over-the-top sexy without recrimination. It’s the one day I don’t have to act like I have a stick up my ass.” My eyes bugged out on stems. Emboldened indeed. “Mom, are you tipsy?” I asked. I liked tipsy mom. She shrugged. I turned to consider each mirror image of us. We looked like before and after pictures. Before Girl’s dumpy grey plaid skirt and hose did nothing to distract the eye from her flattish chest. Her face was fresh, even pretty, but looked homely compared to After Girl. After Girl was older, sophisticated, assured, and dressed to stop traffic. “Mom. did you get a boob job?” I asked. “Nope, these are natural,” she said matter of factly. “So mine could get that big?” I asked hopefully. “Probably not sweetie. You’re my height now, I’d guess you’re done flowering, too.” She hugged me comfortingly, then whispered in my ears, “be glad they’re smaller, these things are a pain in the neck in surgery. Good for picking up men, tho .” “Is that the plan? Are you ‘picking up men’?” “Definitely,” she admitted. Mom turned and looked me over, shaking her head. “I suppose your plan is the opposite,” she scolded. I sputtered. Mom lifted my skirt and huffed in disgust. “Remind me to take you lingerie shopping, stat,” she was being funny. She never says ‘ stat .’ “No daughter of mine is going out looking like that. Get in the bathroom. Strip completely, wet your hair and get that makeup off your face. “And while you ’re at it think about those straight guys who go in drag for Halloween. Do you think they want to look like a funny-slash-obvious fake girl or a super-sexy-slut?” “I’ll be right back,” she said, leaving abruptly. I looked mirror me over appraisingly. Funny-fake girl would not do, whatever Mom planned I was for it. I followed her directions. It changed my life, forever. -- I finished toweling off as she walked in with a large dusty shoe box, the phone, and an empty wine glass. She dropped the box and kicked off the lid, handing me the glass. I dropped the towel and stood in front of my mother naked for the first time in years. I felt aroused. In front of my mom! I blushed from embarrassment. “You need to relax. Pour some wine and have a small sip,” she instructed. “It's a good wine, so take the time to taste before you swallow.” I blushed redder at the double entendre. The wine numbed my tongue. I tasted spice with a fruity aftertaste. I exhaled deeply, relaxing from tension I unknowingly carried. I felt centered and turned on. Mom made a call. “Maggie, I need another hour. Can you pick me up and 10:15?... Ok, and can we drop Alex over at her party at...” she looked at me, I mouthed the address, “...uh, in the Castro? And do you still have that pink wig from... yeah , please do.” “Now look at yourself in the mirror, you look better naked than with those baggy clothes on. Clothes accent beauty, if applied correctly, but otherwise they obscure it.” I looked at my mirror self. I wasn’t so sure. Clayton liked me, but I wasn’t so confident about my nude form. “First thing first. Before we deal with the clothes we need to attend to your hair, then your face.” Mom was all business, rubbing gel into my cropped black hair, roughing it up and then blow drying it quickly. She plucked my eyebrows first, which irritated like fuck, but it got me hot too. For some reason I recalled the first time with Clayton. “You and Clayton are makeover artists, I guess,” I said remembering how skilled he was with a razor. “What’s Clayton been making over?” she asked, giving me a look. “Oh... uh ,” I scrambled for something. “He trimmed my hair down,” I said running a hand through my crop. “I’m sure he did,” she said smugly looking at my bald pussy. Did she suspect? I hid my embarrassment with a sip of wine. “Is he a good lay?” she asked. “ Pffttt ,” I managed to keep the spray in the cup. “Mom!” “Yes, then.” My pussy face both flushed hot. I took a drink to cover my face. “Yes, Mom. He’s fantastic, and not just with a razor.” “But you’re not going out with him tonight?” “We’re not dating. I don’t even know if he’s going to this party.” I said it matter of factly. I really did like him, but somehow held no jealously. “Being careful, tho ?” I nodded solemnly. “I don’t need to repeat that talk we had about safe sex?” I shook my head. “I suppose, I’m obligated to say something cliche to make it clear I don’t approve. To make you feel guilty for forcing me to examine my parenting style,” she said, looking at me seriously, tweezes inches from my eyes. “But I trust you play safely and carefully. Really, I couldn’t ask for more.” “Ouch,” I said as she resumed plucking. The serious moment was over. The rest of the makeover was a blur of motion and rushed makeup tips. She prohibited glances in the mirror. Once my face was “complete”, as she put it, she pulled items out of drawers and her closet. First on was a pair of semi-transparent white silk stockings she folded down twice to below mid-thigh. She secured the hem lines at the fronts with little pink bow-shaped hairpins. Clean nail polish in small doses secured the folds invisibly around my thighs. She threw white thongs at me, then rummaged in the closet until she found a pink tartan skirt very different from the gray beast I discarded in her bathroom. I put both articles on. My pussy flushing again as I snugged the thong against it. The skirt covered the area from two inches below my navel down to three inches above the thigh-highs. Though topless, I felt more naked below the belt line than above. Retrieving my discarded white oxford shirt and a pair of scissors from the bathroom, Mom began working on my top. She sheared off the sleeves and put the oxford on me. Then she cut away the material below my breasts except for two long pieces near the center. She used them to fold a hem into the bottom of the shirt, then tied them together into a knot below my breasts, now our tops were almost identical. She found a black cardigan to put over the mangled top, then stood back examining me critically. “You need less cardigan. I’ll be right back, no peeking in the mirror. Instead, put on the shoes and walk around in them,” she said, leaving. The dusty box contained a pair of black patent leather Mary Janes with four inch heels. I’d only ever worn two or three inch heels. They were stable platforms, however, so I quickly adjusted. Mom came back with double sided tape. Pulling off the cardigan she laid it flat on the floor and applied the tape in two vertical lines which would intersect where my nipples would be. She cut along the length of the tape, removing the buttons and about two inches of vertical cloth . Finally she folded the material over, effectively creating a hem out of double sided tape. She put it back on me and examined her work. The cardigan would not close anymore, obviously. A six inch gap running up from waistline to collar exposed my midriff, the knotted oxford and my cleavage, such as it was. Mom, pulled the collar over the cardigan and nodded once. She spent a few minute safety pinning the hem of the shirt and the top of the cardigan under the oxford collar. “Done,” she said. “You may look,” she pointed to the mirror. “Wow, Mom. That is unbelievable.” The Mary Janes elongated my legs by about five inches. Pink bows at the top of shortened stockings drew the eye to my pale thighs, daring the viewer to wonder what was under the pink tartan skirt. The mutilated oxford bisected a flat expanse of abdomen and chest, hiding my small perky breasts. Makeup enlarged my green eyes. Slimmed eyebrows made me look like a woman instead of a cute girl. Gloss coated my lips with a translucent shine. “I just can’t do what you can up here,” I waved around my chest. “Second rule of dressing up: Look at what is going right. You are sixteen with a long life ahead of you. Spend your time perfecting what you have instead of pining for what you don’t. “Wow, Mom you should write a book,” I said sarcastically. “Seriously, you have more going for you than most. You are beautiful even without the makeup. Your skin is flawless and white, no acne or ruddy complexion (she’d covered over a few pimples). You have legs ‘up to here ’, a flat stomach and no cellulite. You’ve got cute breasts hiding in there. And best of all, you have the brains to make them all work for you.” Mom’s intensity took me back. I repeated her words in my head, ‘spend time perfecting what you have,’ hoping to remember them. She turned me to face her, the mirror on my left. “Now an asset you seem unaware of judging by what you wear day to day. Turn your head and look in the mirror.” Perversely I felt more naked in this getup than before I put it on. “Wow a lot of flesh is bared, Mom are you sure...” “ Shhh , look. What do you see?” I searched for what she meant. The heels lifted and sculpted my calves noticeably. They also accented my butt. The skirt flared out behind me in contrast to how it hung flat in the front. “My ass?” “Yes, sweetie,” she condescended then turned me away from the mirror. “Now look over your shoulder.” The skirt barely covered my ass cheeks because of the flare. My two deep dimples peeked out over the skirt top. “Oh, I my dimples are showing.” “That my dear, is the kind of ass Prince writes lyrics about. And the dimples...,” she shook her head silently pursing her lips as if her she was getting turned on. -- “Ok now, downstairs,” she pointed. “I have instructions for you and not a lot of time. And don’t spill the wine!” Half the glass remained. Walking in heels down stairs challenged me but I made it. Once downstairs, Mom directed me to sit and stand in various places. With each new arrangement she would coach me. “Sit on the edge of the seat with back straight and your legs closed in front of you. The heels will put your knees above the waist, accenting their length and shapeliness . Never sit back, not in that skirt. You will be vulnerable reclined and look awkward getting up.” “Stand with one leg straight and knee locked, drop the other hip putting its bent leg in front of you with arms akimbo. The stance accents everything and clears space around you.” “Think about what people are looking at when you move. If you don’t know how to move, just relax and do what comes naturally.” The commands, instructions and advice continued at a rapid pace. I was getting hotter and hotter as I moved from position to position, like I was a fashion model. Finally she said something that blew my mind. “There is no time now, but take time to pose in a mirror. You have the looks, learn to use them at all times.” “That’s funny coming from you, Mom. Half the time you’re in scrubs and no makeup.” “Oh, sweetie, Do you think for a second I’m not aware what I look like? What message do you think I’m sending?” Mom always projected confidence when she left for work. Even after losing a fight with Phil, she’d always leave for work like a different person. “You project competence and seriousness.” “Close enough. But it’s no accident. People find it hard to take a pretty face seriously even if they’re attracted to it. I wear just the right amount of makeup. And I stand and walk and talk to project authority, not just confidence.” She handed me a black sequined clutch with a strap. Inside was a key to the house, twenty dollars, a tiny box of tiny Altoids, her cell phone, the lip gloss, three condoms, a tiny bottle of lube and a long piece of green plastic. I blushed at the prophylactics. “Mom, I’m not really that kind of girl,” I said. Well, I was thinking of making Andy’s night but three seemed excessive. “Don’t make me slap you. A good girl is always prepared and that bag has everything you need except tampons and ID,” she said. “Now, carefully pull the scalpel out. I was nonplussed, then I realized the green plastic was a sheathed scalpel. I pulled it out. The sheath was glued to the inside of the purse. I looked at Mom and said with a bad Scottish accent, “Ok, Q, what now?” “ Heh , It’s the latest in surgical implements, Bond, but it's not a knife! Use it to cut not stab . If you have to cut someone put your mind in the right place first, then put your finger on the back of the blade for support, like so, and draw it across what you want to cut, pushing down firmly.” “Mom, you are fucking scary.” “I prefer, authoritative. Now put it back in.” I sheathed it. “Notice the ergonomics, how you can tell which side and end you are holding without looking at it.” I studied it, and Mom. The kind warm woman who raised me was all business now. Hidden knife and couture posing. I shook my head in disbelief. A car horn sounded outside. “Ok, that’s us, let's go.” I stopped her. “Mom! I’m nearly naked, you can’t let me go out like this!” Honestly, I’d expected her to put a trench coat on me. “Alexandra,” she said, “that’s my line.” She smiled at me and touched my cheek. “Look, have fun, I trust you. In ten months you’ll be away at college on your own, you need to learn the ropes here. Besides, it’s the Castro, how bad could it be?” More seriously she added, “Are you planning to drink?” “No Mom,” I held up my glass. “Not more, anyway.” “Ok, honey. That is smart. Don’t accept and open cup from anyone. But finish your glass quick, it’ll relax you.” Maggie dressed like a vampire stripper in a huge Afro. Somehow she pulled off being undead -pale and black without looking fake. She handed Mom a pink wig and took off, chattering a mile a minute about traffic, her ‘fro wig, how sexy we all looked and so on. Mom pushed the wig onto my head, secured it and brushed it out. I had chin length straight pink hair now. “I’m not so sure about the hair Mom.” “Relax, it’s supposed to be a disguise,” she said. “No one will recognize you now.” “You and Maggie don’t look disguised,” I pointed out. “We’re going to a different kind of party,” she said enigmatically. Maggie drove us six blocks to the upper Castro. As I exited the car Mom grabbed my hand. “James, try to bring the gear back in one piece, will you?” she said in a passable English accent. “I will Q,” I laughed. Mom was cool and dorky. As they drove off, it suddenly occurred to me she was a young woman in her prime. -- McMillan’s pulsed with deep industrial beats. The house was an Edwardian mansion recently renovated in the post modern fashion. Andy sat on the stoop looking glum in his prisoner's outfit. His costume was well done at least, but it looked rented. He had a plastic ball and chain attached to one leg. Lettering on it said, Azkaban. “Oh, you’re Serious Black,” I said. Andy looked surprised I was talking to him. It didn’t stop him from ogled my legs and surprisingly, my chest. His eyes opened wider and he sat up straighter, mouth hanging slightly open. I liked the effect the hooker version of me produced. “It’s 10:30 I know, sorry for being late, Mom had to...” I couldn’t explain the makeover, “Mom was late from the hospital, I lied.” “Alex?” He looked confused. “Yup, it’s me.” He stood and looked me over. I was eye to eye with him. “Alex. You look different.” “You like?” I asked. “Yeah, but um,” he looked worried. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” “What idea, Andy.” “You know, that this is a date,” he blushed. “Because you’re dressed up like that… and all.” “If it's not a date, what is it?” I posed arms akimbo like Mom instructed. Andy blanched and backed up. Andy said nothing. If he wasn’t interested maybe he was gay. “Are you in the closet or something?” I asked. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no sound came out. “So I ’m cover ? You bring the socially-awkward-nerdy-but-cute virgin as a beard?” I continued despite the growing look of alarm on his face, “Either it’s sweet of you to take pity on the school pariah or you get credit for having me stand next to you. Either way, I’m...” “Stop, that’s not it,” he interrupted, waving his hands.. “I’m hooking up with someone else and it has to be secret or I’ll get killed.” “That’s so much worse!” “I know! I’m sorry, Ok, it can’t be helped now.” It could! I’d planned to take Andy to a secluded room. But I could tell, despite his other date, Andy liked what he saw. And Mom’s advice was fresh in my mind. I could dwell on the bad or build up the good . I decided not to feel sorry for myself. “Andy, do you think anyone will recognize me?” I asked, switching gears. “Not in a million years,” he shook his head earnestly. How much fun could I have if no one knew who I was? Well, Andy knew me. I needed a good cover and his assured silence. And now I had both, probably. “Ok, who are you meeting?” Andy hesitated. “Spill it,” I said gruffly. “It’s Trish, ok.” He leaned in to whisper, conspiratorially looking around as if spies lurked in the bushes, “Harlan McMillan’s sister” It explained the secrecy. McMillan might be throwing the party, but the football player had a reputation for violence. “Ok, I’ll keep your secret,” I conspired. “Does anyone know you invited me?” “Not you specifically, I just told Trish I’d bring someone...”, he looked at me sheepishly but continued, “...someone safe.” “What was your plan?” “Uh, I’d take you in, make the rounds, maybe dance some. Then Trish’s friends distract you so...” he trailed off not needing to complete the picture. Possibly not knowing what the complete picture was yet. But it galled. “You were going to trick me and leave me alone?” “Yes,” he looked down, “sorry.” “Ok, don’t be sorry. Be helpful. I want you to introduce me around as…” I needed a name “...Trish.” I grinned. Andy looked confused. “If you want secrecy, I want the same, and anonymity. Do we have a deal?” “That won’t work because,” he waved an arm up and down at me, “this! Trish will implode when she’s sees you’re my date.” “Aww that’s sweet, you’re scared of her,” I said. “Look it's easy, I’m your cousin Trish from, ah, New York City. I’ll back you up. She can’t be mad you have a hot cousin, after all.” “Ok, I guess. But why do you want to be a Trish?” He asked. “Revenge.” I said. “Whatever you hear about your cousin Trish at school Monday, keep your mouth shut about who she is and remember, it could have been you,” I said harshly. Andy blanched. I softened, “Andy, if you want to do something like this again, tell the girl ahead of time. Then everyone gets to plan their night. Now, give me a tour of the place.” He nodded meekly and followed me up to the house. --- The McMillan’s decorated for Halloween with bowls of candy (and condoms), paper mache pumpkins, some lights and witch silhouettes. A ghost hung from a fan. The main living area had been converted into a foggy dance floor. Revelers were grinding and sweating to Personal Jesus. I couldn’t find the DJ. The decorations looked cheap, probably put up by the kids. Rumor had it, Mr and Mrs McMillan were out of the country for some legal reason. So far this looked like a truant kiddy party. Where was the orgy? Upstairs rooms were for smaller private gatherings and coupling, Andy told me. I saw nothing debauched until we toured the back yard. From the porch I could see flagrant, if odd couplings. I spotted a female Luigi giving head to Mario. A pirate bent Princess Peach over one end of a picnic table while a fat penguin porked a wolf on the other. A girl with gossamer wings made out with another girl with angel wings while a group of boys without costumes looked on and whispered. There was a guy puking in the bushes. The frank, appraising stares I got on the tour built up my confidence and heated up my libido. A few people, mostly women, smiled at me and nodded. By tour's end I was ready for more than furtive glances and Andy’s surreptitious touches. Trish’s friends corralled both of us into her room for a quick interrogation. “Yes, I was Andy’s cousin Trish... No I didn’t like him, ewwww .” Trish was Ms Pacman. I tried and failed to imagine the hooker version of Ms Pacman. Andy agreed to meet at 1 and leave together. I had is word on secrecy and confirmation that Trish didn’t know who I was. She really thought I was a cousin. I was free to do what I wanted. -- I went to the kitchen for water, mundane I know, where I found Clayton dressed as a baseball player filling two cups from a keg. There were three kegs. Our eyes met as I took a cup from the stack. I introduced myself as Trish. . He politely responded and winked knowingly. He’d recognized me and it looked like he would keep my secret? “Who’s your date?” I asked looking at the two cups. When he told me I asked, “Regular or random.” She was a random pickup, a one night stand. I turned to get water from the tap. “Do you study in that?” Clayton asked coyly. “Thinking about it,” I said salaciously as I bent slightly (and needlessly) to fill my cup. A slight bend was enough to cause several groans and a couple of ‘oh lords.’ Vamping was growing on me. Cups filled, Clayton left, but not before giving me an approving wink. I turned to the groaners only to be confronted by none other than the three musketeers. Outside of Andy and Clayton, these were the only people in the party who actually worked up the nerve to talk to me. And they talked well. Athos, Porthos and Aramis, all dashing young boys from another school, behaved politely as they vied for my attentions. I tried playing them each against other, but true to character the musketeers refused advantage over one another. Finally, I made clear what was at stake. Opening my clutch, I announce, “Oh, look I have three condoms in here.” Looking up I said coyly, “that’s either three for one of you or one for each of you.” “It’s certainly not one for all, that's for sure,” quipped Porthos indignantly. Athos spewed beer. Slapping Athos’s back , Aramis cut in, “Porthos, you fool, the lady suggests she might like to be one for all’d, as they say.” Understanding dawned on Porthos’s face. He recovered quickly, “Do they say that? I’m not certain. But I understand what the lady is asking.” I smiled at that. Did I want that many? “Actually, I hadn’t planned on so much attention.” They looked crestfallen. “But, I don’t want to break up the gang either. It’s up to you.” Without a word between them they each nodded slowly and said, “one for all.” “One for all then,” I quipped bravely. “Drink up, men,” I said leaving for the stairs. The three musketeers followed me quickly packing in around me as if to guard me. Aramis, apparently the brains of the operation, picked up a string of condoms on the way up the stairs. Getting a room is no challenge when you have plastic swords. There was a brief scuffle with Ariel and a skeleton for an open room. Ariel tripped on her tail and the skeleton backed down from three pointy plastic swords. We had a room. It had a desk to the left of the door with nothing on it except KY and some paper towels. A trash can containing discarded towels and condoms, eww , sat next to a small leather couch against the far wall. The room clearly had space for more furniture. I locked the door once we were in. My pussy was wet with anticipation and, to be honest, fear. Who knew fear could be a turn on? No matter how turned on I was, I had no idea what I was doing. The three musketeers turned to me, expectant looks all around. Condoms hung comically from Amaris’s hand, forgotten. Apparently, they expected me to lead. What did I know about foursomes? Was it a foursome or a gangbang? “Ok,” I said. “Who’s had sex before?” Athos had not, lucky boy. “And who’s been in a foursome before?” No hands raised. “Well, I’ve never done this before, so I’m a little nervous.” The boys all spoke at once trying to reassure me. So sweet! Ludicrously, I kept thinking, “what would Mom do here?” I suppressed a hysterical laugh. How did I get myself into this? “Well, I suppose there should be rules and a rule maker,” I said. “I have the pussy, so I make the rules. The rules are: use condoms, you all have to go down on me first, no condoms in my mouth ( I hate that latex taste), no touching my wig ( I didn’t know how to adjust it), no anal. And I get to make up any other rules.” That sounded good. The musketeers stood in bugeyed shock at my forthrightness. Even Aramis was nonplussed. “Well, is that okay?” I asked. Heads nodded. It wasn’t enough for me, they were being too passive. “Do you have any requests?” Porthos sputtered, “Errm, yes can you take your top off and leave everything else on?” “Oh, good one J.. er , Porthos,” said Aramis rolling his eyes, “she needs to take her panties off too.” I agreed. Teasing them I reached under my skirt and moving the thong below my knees and let go. They dropped around my ankles. Somehow, that made this real. I was doing this. I was about to be gang fucked by three guys I did not know. “First musketeer to get naked gets to take off the thong,” I said. The musketeers exploded into action. I untied the knot Mom had made in my top. Christ, did Mom imagine this would happen when she tied it? Was she somewhere untying the knot in her shirt? Aramis was first to emerge naked from the storm of cloths. He crouched down and pulled down my thong so I could step out of it. He threw them aside, then ran his hands up the backs of my legs send pulses of heat through my pussy. Moans escaped both our throats as his hands met bare thigh flesh. He squeezed each cheek. I felt an orgasm flicker to life deep in my pussy. Spreading my legs and locking knees , I leaned against the door. My top half open and forgotten, I said, “lick my pussy, Aramis.” He obliged. Either Aramis was experienced or all oral sex was automatically good. I wondered which it was. An orgasm washed over me obliterating my contemplation. By unspoken agreement, Porthos was next. He proved Aramis was experienced. After a minute I pulled him up and kissed him soundly while he fingered me. He was a good kisser, at least. And a passable masturbater . Breaking it off I looked over at Athos, who stood erect in the center of the room. I slid off my top and placed it with the clutch on the desk next to me. The couch was in the wrong spot for four people. As I walked to Athos I said, “Porthos, Aramis, move the couch to the middle of the room so there is room to move around it. Athos was new at everything I could tell. I tentatively kissed him, he startled coltishly . So I hugged his tense body and whispered in his ear, “Relax and trust me. You’ll have a great time.” He seemed unconvinced. I kissed him again with tongue until he kissed back. I noted Aramis and Porthos sitting on the couch watching their friend get taken for his first ride. The two commented among themselves as things progressed. They seemed content to let me take my time. Athos held his arms stiffly to his sides not touching me. I picked one hand up and placed it on my right breast and I placed the other on my ass. The kiss continued and Athos began fondling my ass and breasts roughly. He was clearly a novice but eager for more. Aramis and Porthos were getting an eye full of the back of their friend. Placing hands on his shoulders, I broke the kiss and spun Athos perpendicular to the couch giving our audience a nice side view. I crouched down, his rampant cock inches from my face. The others encouraged their friend. Athos looked around lost. “Hey, look at me,” I said. “I’m putting you in my mouth. I don’t expect you to last long the first time, so don’t hold back. I want you to cum in my mouth.” Without breaking eye contact or looking at his cock I took him completely into my mouth. There were four moans as I felt the cock hit the back of my throat and they all saw what I was doing. Starting slowly with my tongue, I gently worked him to orgasm. Athos loved my efforts, moaning and reaching for my hair. I grabbed his hands, preventing wig removal, and continued. Without a word he started cumming down my throat, breathing quickly and making quiet hissing sounds as if someone might overhear him if he yelled out. His friends cheered loudly. As I fought to control his arms, Athos pumped load after load into my throat. Having an audience watch me struggle to swallow and fighting Athos for control brought me to a tiny orgasm. For the first time I came without direct stimulation. My qualms about this abated completely. I liked it. I could handle three guys. Athos settled down as I softly milked his cock clean. I popped off his cock and smiled up at him, asking, “how was that?.” He smiled back and nodded. “Ok,” I said standing up. “One of you chatty boys put a cock in my pussy.” As I walked confidently to the couch, Aramis and Porthos cleared off it. I kneeled upon it with both knees and bent over so the back supported my hands and shoulders as my head leaned over it. I looked to either side of me. Porthos had a larger cock. “Porthos, put on a condom. Aramis, please put your cock in my mouth.” Aramis made it to my mouth first. I wanted him to last and suspected he wouldn’t, so I sucked lightly and used a little tongue. Soon Porthos applied pressure to my pussy. He slipped in slowly then built up a slow thrusting motion. I relaxed my mouth and let the two of them simply fuck me. I heard them high five above me. They established a rhythm and soon I was coming to its beat. Aramis shuddered with impending orgasm. His cock expanded and he thrust deeply into my mouth. He yelled something like, “Oh, god! Take it.” I drank his cum greedily. It was sweet tasting. Rather than cum, Porthos pulled out. Immediately I felt more pressure on my pussy from Athos. I encouraged him redundantly. He slipped fully in one motion, letting out a moan. Porthos came around to the front tearing off his condom and unceremoniously stuffed his cock in my face. “Don’t swallow,” he said. Porthos unloaded in the front of my mouth. I held it. His load tasted bitter. After coming down, Porthos pulled out and said, “show me.” I looked up at him, opening my mouth. Just then the phone in my clutch rang shrilly. Everyone except Athos froze in place. Athos, who gripped my waist below the skirt, kept thrusting into my slick pussy. They all stared at me in horror, like we’d been surrounded by the cops and I was evidence of the crime. It rang again. Shit, Mom was checking up on me. The musketeers remained frozen. I swallowed Porthos’s cum and spoke, “Can someone bring me the phone?” Aramis pulled it out of the clutch and threw it to Porthos who handed it to me. It rang again. What would I say to her? What would she ask me? “Everyone, quiet please ,” I requested and pushed the talk button. My pussy flushed. “Trish speaking !” I didn’t want them overhearing Mom call me Alex. Meanwhile, Athos continued plugging away at me. I flexed my pussy, milking him. Whatever happened, this was hot. “Trish, is it? I guess the disguise worked.” Excellent, Mom picked up on it quickly. I couldn’t call her Mom or Cynthia, so I improvised, “Yes... Cindy, it did.” “Was I right about dressing up?” “Yeah, I got noticed all right. But boys seem afraid of me, now.” “What about Andy?” “He had a secret date, I was a cover.” “I’m sorry to hear that sweetie,” she said. I suppressed a moan as Athos increased his pace. “Are you alone or having fun?” “Oh, um, eventually I was, er ... rescued from loneliness by the Three Musketeers.” I said breathily . Aramis sat next to me on the couch. There was a muffled sound like a door closing on the other end. “Really sweetie,” she continued. “And how did they rescue you?” Aramis, grinning wickedly, pinched my nipple. I squeaked. “I think I see,” she said. “And you’re rewarding them properly?” She exhaled deeply. Was she enjoying this or exasperated? “Yes, M... Cindy, they...”, another pinch, “...they’re being perfect gentlemen about it.” I slapped Aramis’s hand . Had I just admitted being with three men to Mom? Did she think I was chatting with them or getting naked? My pussy spasmed around Athos’s cock . I only heard breathing on the other end. It matched my own labored breaths. Porthos was hard again and less than an inch from my lips. Aramis stroked my nipples in rhythm to Athos’s thrusts. “So, their swords are sheathed?” she asked. Mom had no delusions, then. And what a way to ask about safe sex! Athos slowed his thrusts but each was longer and more forceful. He was nearing climax. “Athos is. Porthos is brandishing his rather dangerously . Aramis... Mmm ...” I let out a sudden moan, abandoning subtlety. “Oh, sweetie, are you close?” At her words, I felt an orgasm building like a flood deep in my pussy. “Yeah, I’m really close.” Porthos pushed the tip of his cock into my open mouth and said loudly, “Suck it.” I moaned submissively and mouthed it softly. The flood was rising higher. Aramis laughed and the boys resumed their commentary. No question. Mom, knew everything now. But she didn’t hang up. “Oh baby, is your mouth full of cock?” Christ, my Mom was... I had no idea what she was. I moaned ‘yes’ around the cock in my mouth. The dam broke, a huge orgasm washed through my center, down my clenching thighs and calves, curling my toes. Now I moaned in deep relief and pleasure and I could hear it echoed from the other end of the line. Mom was coming too. After we calmed down, Mom said, “remember curfew, and have fun.” She hung up. Mom and I had just had phone sex. I tried to process that through my cum addled brain. Athos, pulled out, spent. His first orgasm in a pussy hadn’t even registered to me. I pulled off the cock in my mouth. Enabled by Mom’s approval I wanted to go all out. Time to change the rules. “Aramis, get some lube and use those talented fingers of yours in my ass.” I took Porthos back in my mouth, servicing him enough to keep his interest. Aramis did as instructed and even stroked me to another orgasm. When I felt ready. Aramis sat on the couch. Sitting back between his legs, I mounted myself onto his rubberized cock. He rubbed my clitoris as my ass adjusted to his girth. Porthos put on a condom waited for my nod, then he pushed into my waiting pussy. “Oh god, I’m taking two cocks,” I said redundantly. For the next fifteen minutes the three musketeers traded turns fucking my ass, pussy, and face. I had a few orgasms throughout the gangbang . Porthos came again but the others refrained. We went through a lot of condoms to keep things clean. When all were used, I sat on the edge of the couch, posed as Mom suggested, and opened my mouth invitingly. Athos asked to cum on my face. “Sorry gang, I’d let you spray my face, but I can’t walk out of here like that. How about cuming in my mouth.” They did. Porthos took forever. We dressed. I gave my thong to Athos for a keepsake. He bashfully thanked me. “Before we go, I’d like the thank you all. You were all true gentlemen.” They thanked me in turn. I was hesitant to open the door, as if expecting the whole school to be on the other side waiting in disapproval. -- I opened the door into the second floor hallway just as a genie in a diaphanous pink blouse and pantaloons walked briskly by. She had cum all over her face. The musketeers and I exchanged looks and burst out laughing. My nervousness dissipated, this was a debauched party of legend. I felt free and I wanted to participate. I made my way onto the dance floor. I spurned several drunks and one or two rather creepy admirers. Finally, a blue devil danced up to me. He took his cues well and in the end I let him do what he wanted. He was soon discovered my lack of underwear and began feeling up my bare ass under the skirt while grinding his hard cock against my pussy. At a song transition he grabbed my hand, leading me to a dark corner. The devil pushed me down, fishing his cock out of blue tights. I squatted down. It was bigger than any of the musketeer cocks but I fit it into my throat quickly enough. Soon he was cuming . Like Athos I held his hands to prevent wig issues. I returned to the dance floor and picked up a football player with jersey number 36. I knew him, it was his real jersey. He failed to recognize me at all. He took me up to the second floor. We couldn’t find a room. But at the end of the hall there was a table and a large mirror. A bowl full of condoms and tiny lube bottles sat on the table. I led 36 to it, tossed a condom at him, and bent over with locked knees, hands on the table edge. I didn’t care who saw me get fucked. No one knew me. 36 flipped up my skirt and pushed his cock into my waiting pussy. I could see us both in the mirror. He didn’t last long enough to give me an orgasm, but a friend of his in an 11 jersey, who I also recognized, interrupted. As 36 finished , they high fived, 11 asked me if he could have a sample. I remained bent over and shrugged. I could see his face brighten in the mirror. 11 fished out a condom and some lube from the bowl. He took me in the ass and mashed my clit rather harshly with a finger. I milked him as he rode me to a series of small orgasms. I watched pink haired ‘Trish’ in the mirror, bent over beneath a number. 11 thanked me after he finished. I half expected someone else to ask for a go but the hallway didn’t seem to have much traffic. I was a little disappointed. Applying lip gloss using the mirror, I decided I still looked reasonably put together even after sex with six guys. Anonymity allowed me to be a bit of a slut, I realized. The pretty little slut in the mirror looked back at me with pride and winked. -- Bored, if you can believe it, I explored. I wanted to know what was going on. I was feeling lonely, without the musketeers to talk to. It would have been nice to come to something like this with a girlfriend. I thought of Mom and Maggie. I worked my way up to the 3rd floor. A crowd gathered at a pair of double doors leading into what looked like the master bedroom. The pink genie from before and a completely naked girl with goat horns were on a big king bed. Together they entertained four cocks in front and back as a short line of men waited. I scanned faces , realizing most of them were unfamiliar even out of costume. And they were older. This party was mostly college students or locals, then. I wondered If the Musketeers were Freshman at UCSF. I watched standing open mouthed in the doorway as Genie took another load on her upturned face. She didn’t squint or flinch. She smiled up at her benefactor blissfully through a glaze of semen. Instantly a new cock was presented to her. As she swallowed it, I observed her technique. She used a hand to block the cock at a few inches into her mouth. Genie was better at taking a load, but I could have swallowed that whole cock. A guy finished ramming the goat girl and was replaced by another. Some men wore condoms and some did not. I heard one of the men in line, a lobster, complain about waiting. The sailor behind him suggested he go to the basement if he wanted a quickie. My interest piqued, I wandered downstairs. I had a hard time imagining something quicker than this. In a hall in the basement were two signs with arrows, “Givers Room” and “Takers Room”. A line of costumed men led into the Givers door. The Takers door was closed and had no line. I opened it to the weirdest sight in my young life. The room was poorly lit but I could see girls crouched in front of a plywood wall. They were all facing away from me in what looked like absurd upright genuflection. I walked closer for a better look. Each girl sat in front of a hole in the wall. Cocks poked out of the wall and the girls sucked them. The line of Givers suddenly made sense. I didn’t even know what a glory hole was but here were six women sucking cock. I noticed two of the girls were actually guys, not in drag, but their costumes were elaborate enough to hide it. Did the men on the other side know? Did they care? There were unoccupied spaces with covered holes. I approached one, knelt on the rug and opened the flap, looking into the other room.. That room was even darker. A cock poked through the hole and I jerked back to avoid a poke in the eye. This was disgusting. And exciting. The new cock looked clean and rather fragile, disembodied as it was. The girl next to me said hello pleasantly, between cocks. Her name was Claire, I knew her from English and Advanced Math. She was quite drunk. Cum ran in a stream down her chin, her neck, and onto her top. I introduced myself as Trish and she failed to correct me. I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and practice falatio . You know, for science. I leaned forward and took the proffered cock into my mouth. A few seconds later it was lodged in my throat and I was giving the guy the blowjob of his life. He blew in no time. I sat back as the cock retreated and another appeared, like magic. This was bizarre but sexy. Claire asked me how I managed to take it that deep. I exchanged tips with her as we accepted cock after cock. Soon, Claire was able to take more in her throat and I was coming just off the rush. It was good to have someone to talk with, even if she didn’t know who I was. I didn’t stay as clean as I had upstairs. Early on, one of the guys pulled his cock back and jerked off through the hole, trying to hit my face. He surprised me and managed to splash cum across my nose, cheeks and mouth before I could get his cock back in my mouth. He looked through the hole afterward to admire his handy work. After that, several other’s tried the same thing. Since I was already a mess from the first guy, I let them have their target. Most guys can’t shoot it turns out. It was all weird and sexy and I don’t think I would do it again. I prefer person to person sex, even it its anonymous, two disembodied cocks. But I did gain a comprehensive knowledge of the various flavors of cum and a much better idea of what an average cock looks like. As a bonus, no one could grab my wig. After an hour, Claire had sobered up and we were both splattered with cum. It was nearly one. I said goodbye to Claire, and resolved to get to know her better at school. -- Things were quieting down. Or at least people were mellowing out. I saw no one running around and the dance floor was empty. I found Andy in the same room as I’d left him. Trish lay in naked slumber next to her prisoner. I woke him and we made off together. He asked what happened to me. But I refused to talk about it. I wanted him to report what he heard about me later. So we walked home together just and talked mostly about him and Trish. He confessed they had sex. He’d gone down on her but she refused to reciprocate. I tried to be supportive and not be distracted by about my appearance or the cold air hitting my bare pussy. I called a cab for Andy after we arrived home. Waiting for the cab was a bit of torture for him. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to attack me or talk. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. Finally I had mercy on him. I asked if he wanted a blow job. He nodded quickly. Sitting on the edge of the couch I spread my legs so he could stand between them. “Oh, wow,” he said, looked at my exposed pussy. “Can I fuck you instead?” “I don’t have any condoms, do you?” Andy shook his head glumly. “Well, be sure to have some on you next time. You can fuck me and tell me what you’ve heard about tonight,” I said. “And if you behave. If you keep your mouth shut, I mean, then we keep doing it from time to time.” He brightened up at that. So I pulled him to me and lowered his prison pants, taking his nicely average cock in my mouth. The taxi horn blared. To spur him over the edge, I urged him to cum on my face. That did the trick. “Trish, Oh Trish,” he yelled as he came on me. I’ve never been sure if he meant me or his girlfriend. -- After a long hot shower I changed into a big T-Shirt and filled my glass of wine, leaving the bottle a quarter full. I put the bottle back on Mom’s dresser and contemplated her closet. Methodically, I explored Mom’s room starting with the closet and ending under the bed. In addition to the usual items, Mom possessed quite a collection of racy attire. At least five Halloweens worth of costumes hung at the end of one rack. My eyes lingered lovingly on teal green velvet corset with yellow and red floral embroidery. The shiny plastic nurse uniform seemed particularly odd. Why would mom dress up like a nurse? Five drawers were dedicated just to lingerie, nylons, garters and night clothes. I got the feeling Mom was quite decked out under those scrubs. I found porn in a box back of the closet. There were about ten DVDs. Some were high production artsy things. There were three lesbian DVDs and some really hardcore stuff in there too. I decided it was Mom’s and not something Phil had left behind. Mom called the home phone, scaring the shit out of me. She and Maggie would be leaving soon, she said. Mom sounded distracted. We’d crossed some sort of boundary beginning with the makeover and ending with the phone sex. I’d accelerated from considering fucking Andy to being a super sex machine in one night. I wouldn’t describe my relations with Clayton as vanilla but it was a far cry from debauched anonymous sex with multiple men. I wanted to talk with Mom about it tonight. To stay awake, I continued snooping. The night stand hid Mom’s surgically clean toy stash. It contained lube, condoms, wipes, a vibrating egg, a couple of vibrating dildos and a large latex phallus. I considered using the egg, but refrained having had quite enough orgasms for one night. Eventually, I turned out the lights and settled down into the chaise next to the large window overlooking the street. I reclined sipping wine waiting in the dark room for Maggie’s car. At about three Maggie pulled up catacorner to the driveway before ours. I could see directly down into the front of the SUV. A man in a tux sat next to Maggie. Interesting. As Maggie turned off the car, another man got out of the drivers side back door. He walked around back to the other door and opened it, presumably for Mom. What a gentleman. Maggie, I could see, was talking a mile a minute as usual. Mom got out. I could see her boots and hat, the door occluded everything else. The gentleman in the tux blocked her, one arm on the car and one on the door. Mom took of her hat. It looked like they were talking. Her head lowered then disappeared. I could see her boots lean forward. She was kneeling in front of him. After a bit, Tux man leaned forward and looked up, opened mouthed, into the night sky. I knew that look, it could only mean his cock was in Mom’s mouth. I watched in dumbfounded amazement until I noticed movement inside the car. Maggie wasn’t yapping anymore. The other man held her head down in his lap. I could see her head bobbing. Nothing changed for five minutes until my Mom’s guy looked down, making a face. He removed the hand on the door. I knew that look too. He was pumping his cock. Into her mouth or onto her face, I wondered. Mom, stood. I could only see the top of her head. Maggie lifted her head off her guy’s lap, licking her lips. It seemed she’d been fed a load. Maggie started the car as Tux guy one got in the back, waving at Mom. Maggie’s chatter resumed as she pulled away leaving Mom on the sidewalk. Mom walked with hat in hand down the sidewalk toward the house. She’d misplaced her top and now only the small vest remained, desperately attempting to cover her large breasts. The sash was missing. Mom looked up as she turned to go up the stairs leading up to our front door. In the lamplight I could see glistening lines of wet cum criss-crossed her face. Small drops sparkled on her breasts. She walked up the stairs with a sanguine look even as the tiny vest dislodged, exposing her breasts. I considered ducking back into my room quickly. Confronting my mother now, seemed daunting. I had no vocabulary for this conversation. Hi Mom, I see you’re a huge slut. I’d like to talk about you trying to make me a slut too? It was the truth but I couldn’t imagine saying anything like that to her. The door opened and closed quietly and I could hear Mom walking up the stairs, on cat feet. She entered her room and closed the door without noticing my silhouette in the window. We both froze in shock, staring at each other, when she switched the light on. Mom had removed the vest coming up the stairs. I could see evidence of more than one man’s cum all over her tits and torso. She was covered in dry and drying cum. Mom recovered first, she walked to her dresser and poured the remaining wine into her old glass. She took a deep draught. Turning to me, she said, “I guess you have some questions.”-- to be continued in part 2