All characters depicted are 18 years of age or above. The author does not encourage or condone the activities described within.
Landon didn’t exactly know what he expected prom night to be, but sitting in his gangly, pimple-faced friend Mark’s den watching a porn film about naughty cheerleaders definitely wasn’t what he had hoped for or envisioned. Landon was down enough already due to his expected date dumping him four days ago and having relegated himself to attending Mark’s “anti-prom” celebration, but when he found out that their other friend Ken wasn’t going to be joining them and it would just be the two of them, it was even worse.
Landon couldn’t even force down the piss-like beer Mark had acquired, though he thanked his friend for it. Instead, he told his friend that he was feeling somewhat sick and that they should arrange another get-together on a night when the three of them could all get together and bash the prom along with all it represented. Mark half-heartedly accepted his excuse, and Landon was on his way home after Mark let loose one last “Fuck the prom!” for the night.
The truth was, however, Landon had been looking forward to the prom. After years of being tortured for his flabby physique, and after being shuffled to three different high schools in four years due to his father’s job, Landon finally felt as if he might gain some acceptance among the “normals,” having lost thirty-two pounds in the past year and a half and put on quite a bit of muscle. This physical change gave him a newfound confidence, confidence he used to ask out Amy, an unassumingly pretty girl he had studied with and hung around with all semester.
Then, the popular guy she had formerly dated and supposedly loved entered the picture, and Landon’s prom night dreams were kicked into the gutter, as the timing didn’t even give him a chance to ask out another girl. Besides, Amy was the only one he felt comfortable enough to chat with, so even if there had been more time, Landon doubted he would have worked up the nerve to ask.
Landon let out a large sigh as he entered the living room of his house. “Hi hon,” he heard his mother’s voice chime.
“Oh—hey Mom,” he replied. She sat on the couch, her blue jean-clad legs stretched across most of it, her fiery red hair streaming over the back of the piece of furniture.
“I didn’t expect you home this early.”
“Yeah,” he said. He meant to say more, but couldn’t at the moment, hoping his defeated tone was enough to give her a sense of why he was home.
“Are you home for good?”
“Looks like it.” He walked behind the couch. “I guess we don’t have any alcohol, right?” His mother smiled with an irresistible glimmer in her eyes that made it impossible not to smile back.
“Well, there’s that bottle of vodka,” she said. “Do you want me to go out and buy you something? I thought you were going to have something to drink at Mark’s.” Landon walked into the kitchen. She had been fine with that, even offering to spring for some champagne, but had forgotten it on her way home from the office.
“Yeah, we were—we did.”
“I don’t know if any place is open,” she called to him as he opened a cabinet.
“It’s fine,” Landon said, pouring himself a glass of soda. He entered the living room again, as he had to pass through anyway to make it upstairs to his bedroom.
“Sprite. Flat Sprite,” he said, a wry grin appearing on his face. His mother smiled back. “You’re up kinda late.”
“A little. Had to make sure you got home safe.” She turned the muted television’s volume on. “Do you want to watch something?”
“No, I’m good.” He slumped into the easy chair.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her easy-to-recognize motherly concern creeping into her voice.
“Yeah. I’m fine. Just isn’t exactly how I pictured prom night,” Landon said, taking a few sips of soda.
“I’m sorry, hon,” his mother replied. “I still can’t believe that Amy did that to you at the last minute.” She leaned over the arm of the couch toward him and patted his wrist reassuringly. He caught a whiff of the flowery scent she was wearing. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Landon and his mother had been close throughout his life, and often her words of encouragement and support were the only things that got him through periods of his life when his appearance and shy personality made him the constant target of mockery. Even as he grew older and found himself needing the kind of advice one might turn to a father to get, because of his father’s frequent absences due to work, Landon still found himself turning to her, the one woman besides Amy who he felt comfortable speaking around. What’s more, she had begun to confide in him of late, discussing the strain that her husband’s absence was putting on their relationship, and floating the idea of going back to school to get a degree, possibly in nutrition sciences.
Landon couldn’t quite believe that his father wasn’t more supportive of her, especially considering how giving, resourceful, escort ataşehir and beautiful she was. It was a bit awkward to admit, but even at age forty-three, she was still an absolute stunner, with her distinctive, gorgeous red locks, megawatt smile, and (as far as he could tell) shapely body that all of his friends gave him hell for. “I don’t know if I can explain it,” he replied.
“Well, I imagine you never had trouble finding a date,” Landon said with a grin. “For prom or otherwise.”
“What are you saying?” she said, batting at him playfully for a moment.
“I’ve seen your high school pics.”
“Yes, your mother used to be quite the babe in the old days,” she said, as if it were five decades rather than roughly two and a half since she’d been out of high school. “Hopefully it’s not all gone.” Landon tried to think of something to say to reassure her, but he could only mouth the word “no” before she spoke next. “But if you mean that I’ve never had my heart broken, or never been turned down by a boy I liked—well, that’s just not true.”
“I know. It’s just…everyone builds up this idea—this perfect picture of prom night in their head, and it’s like, for most normal people, it happens,” Landon said. “I thought I was going to be one of the normal ones this year.”
“Can I let you in on a little secret?” his mother said. “The normal ones are boring.”
“Yeah—just like the boring normal guy who’s with Amy tonight. Yeah, he was sure too boring for her. And now they’re probably having the perfect prom night—”
“What is the perfect prom night?” his mother asked. “I mean, what did you have in your head?” Landon placed the empty cup down on the table.
“I mean, has it changed that much from when I was in school ages ago?” She glanced absently at the television for a moment before lowering the volume.
“Well…I guess there’s dancing,” he began.
“Maybe a little drinking. Some goofing around with your friends. Take some pictures, and that sort of thing. Then…” Landon hoped she wouldn’t ask for more.
“Then…” he repeated, looking at the clock. It was 11:09.
“Aha,” she said. “I get it. What your father and I used to do.” Landon’s eyes widened instantly, as he rarely if ever heard her mother make even the most subtle of references to her sex life. He didn’t know how to react, so he forced an uneasy smile.
“So that’s about it,” he said, trying to steer them away from the uncomfortable topic.
“Well,” his mother began. “I wish I could make the perfect prom night for you, but I didn’t even remember the champagne.”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “I just remembered there’s a bottle of wine Aunt Bella sent us for my birthday.” She stood up abruptly. “Wait here.” Landon sat patiently as he heard his mother rummaging in the hall closet.
“Did Dad go to sleep?” he asked, feeling a faint rumble of hunger.
“Yes. Here it is—got it,” she said as she entered, carrying a bottle of red with a white label graced with some kind of family crest.
“You want me to grab glasses?”
“No; sit honey.” His mother leaned over and placed the bottle on the table and then left the room again. She was wearing what she disparagingly called her “Mom clothes:”—a shapeless, oversized light blue T-shirt and a pair of unflattering jeans that had been out of style for longer than Landon could remember. She returned to the room sporting a pair of wine glasses. “Ta da!” she said with a cheery lilt to her voice.
Landon took one of the glasses and waited patiently as his mother poured him some of the blood-red liquid. “Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She took a sip, settled back on the edge of the couch cushion, and then extended the glass toward him.
“To prom night,” his mother said. “I know it’s not quite going according to plan, but at least I will manage to get you a little drunk.”
“Hear hear,” Landon said with a smile. The wine was room temperature, bitter, yet palatable. They sat and drank for a few minutes as Landon asked her about her own senior prom and she began to reminisce about the weeks and days leading up to it before getting to the actual prom, which she described in detail, including the finer points of her prom dress. He didn’t mind hearing it, as the combination of the alcohol and his mother’s pleasing voice was having a soothing effect on him.
He tried to picture his mother as a young woman, dressed in the light pink dress she’d described, beaming, while slow dancing with her partner, but for some reason, he couldn’t, despite having seen some pictures. When he tried to imagine her younger, he failed, the images in his mind just producing a crude caricature of the forty-three-year-old woman he saw before him. Perhaps, he realized, he couldn’t imagine her younger because she seemed perfectly suited to this age, as if were a particular style of clothing or hairdo that she wore well. The smile lines and wrinkles of kadıköy escort her face didn’t seem like marks of age; it was if they had been carefully placed, like delicate strokes on a canvas, to add the finishing touches to a work of art.
He realized he was drinking rather slowly, but she was already halfway through glass number two.
“I’m sorry—can I pour you some more, hon?” his mother asked him.
“Sure.” She did just that, and then positioned herself back in the middle of the couch, with an empty cushion to either side. She looked at the muted television, which was displaying an ad featuring scantily clad young women exposing their strategically blurred breasts to the camera, kissing one another, and grinding suggestively on the dance floor. She caught Landon looking as well.
“Were you ever that wild, Mom?” he said, jokingly.
“You can tell me. I won’t tell.” Landon finished the last drop of wine in his glass.
“No, I can’t say that I was,” she said, looking at the screen through the translucent, now empty wine glass. “It’s never too late to start, though.” She flashed a mischievous grin. “How come there’s no ‘Moms Gone Wild’ videos?”
“Too bad I don’t have a camera.” Suddenly, his mother lifted her shirt up. She stopped after revealing a glimpse of the bottom of her beige bra, and then broke into a little laugh. “Aw, that’s not cool,” Landon managed, even though his breath felt stuck in his throat. For a moment, he’d thought she was going to flash him. He felt a slight surge of activity below his belt. Did he want that? That questioned was instantly answered as his cock began to stiffen.
“Yeah—you only get a T-shirt if you actually show ’em,” he said, attempting to pass it off as a joke. Suddenly, he wanted to see his mother’s breasts. The desire seemed to freeze every part of his body except for his growing member.
“Well, okay, Mister, but only because you’ve got no date tonight.” She narrowed her eyes at him in mock disapproval, and then gripped the bottom of her baggy blue shirt. “Here.” She lifted the shirt up. Landon could hardly believe it.
His friends had always teased him about his mother’s figure, but he had never looked at it through their eyes, and now, here he was, staring at the massive swell of her cleavage framed by a scalloped beige bra, the tops of her tits dappled with ruddy freckles, as if he was a younger teen getting his first glimpse at a nude magazine. His cock soared upward even as his mother let the shirt slide back down, concealing her wonderful rack.
“Moms gone wild!” she cried out, loudly enough that she glanced toward the staircase, as if concerned she’d wake her husband.
“I know it’s not the same thing, but at least you got a look at some female flesh tonight.” Landon didn’t know how to respond. Should he tell her how turned on he was? For what purpose?
“Still no T-shirt,” he deadpanned.
“Sorry, no bra or no shirt.”
“You are a tough negotiator, young man,” his mother told him, shaking a finger at him, which only made him hotter.
“Hey. I didn’t make the rules.”
“No?” She tossed a curly red lock out of her face. “This T-shirt better be worth it.”
Landon was too distracted to spit out anything resembling wit. “Uh…yeah.”
“Well, if I take my bra off, you have to close your eyes,” his mother explained.
“No way. I can’t just take your word for it, Mom.” He wanted to stroke his cock so badly at the moment that it took all of his nerve just to avoid it.
“I mean, you have to close your eyes while I take it off. Then I do the flash. That’s how it works, Mister.” She pursed her lips together for a moment, driving him crazy inside. “I make the rules now.”
“Yes Ma’am.” Was this really happening?
“Close ’em.” Landon obeyed his mother’s order. Every fiber of his being told him to open them, whether it was to catch a furtive glimpse of her nude breasts, or even just the unhooking of her bra if she was no longer facing him. His eyes squinted open. Delicate fingers worked to undo the lace-trimmed closure of her bra. It slipped to the ground at the same time as her shirt covered her bare back. His mother turned.
Landon closed his eyes tightly. “Okay,” his mother said. His eyes flicked open. She sat with her legs curled up, Indian style, underneath her on the center couch cushion, looking every bit the wicked red-headed temptress out of a cheesy sword and sorcery painting. She gripped the bottom of her shirt. His member pressed hard against his pants in anticipation.
“Wait!” He reached to the table beside him and picked up his cell phone.
“No pictures,” she said.
“Why?” Landon used the opportunity to stand up and move closer to her, to the point that he was within two arms lengths of her legs.
“I don’t want these ending up on one of your friend’s phones,” she said, loosening her grip.
“They won’t, Mom. I swear.”
“I promise.” maltepe escort bayan With that, she shot him another saucy smile and raised up her shirt. Landon nearly forgot to take a picture, he was so entranced by the glorious display. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure, only having some stray nude magazines to go by, but it seemed as if his mother was easily a double D cup. Her maternal mounds only sagged the slightest bit, and were capped off by a pair of pink nipples that were a little smaller than a skateboard’s wheels. Her tan lines were evident, and there was a significant color distance between the tops of her breasts and the portions the bra usually covered.
“God, Mom. You’re beautiful,” he said, as she let her “mom clothes” slip back into place, ending the display.
“You’re sweet,” she said. “Now you should send that to your friends—send it to Amy and tell her you hooked up with some other chick tonight.”
“Mom, that’s—that’s an awesome idea,” he said.
“That is, if you didn’t get my face in the shot. I assumed you weren’t zooming in on my face,” she joked. “Typical male.”
“I think I did. Hey—yeah. That’d be awesome. I’ll send it out as a joke—make them all think I scored with some hot girl.” Landon lifted the camera again.
“You want me to flash you again?” His mother smiled. “If I weren’t your mother, I’d think you were just trying to get me out of my clothes.”
“I just want to send them one—as a joke. With me in it,” Landon said, lowering himself onto the couch cushion beside her.
“Oh, I don’t know,” his mother told him. “Besides, they’ll see it’s me.”
“It will just be from the neck down.” Landon felt his erection throbbing the nearer he got to his mother. Closer up, he noticed the smile lines and wrinkles on her tanned face, but they somehow only made her sexier.
“Landon…” she said, hesitantly. “Don’t you think this is getting a little out of hand?”
“Just one more shot.” He placed his left hand in the air, angling the camera. “Please. I just want to hear what they have to say when they get it.”
“Okay. But then this prom night should really wrap up.”
“Yes, Mom.” He looked into her brown eyes. “Ready?” She nodded and lowered her hands to her stomach, grasping the bottom of her shirt with both hands.
“Moms gone wild!” she called out. “Whooo!” She lifted her shirt. “Get in here, son.” Landon looked into the camera, trying to position his head in front of but not concealing his Mother’s wonderful bust.
“Tilt your shoulders a little toward me, Mom.” She obeyed her son’s instructions. He pressed the side of his face against her left breast and snapped a photo as she continued to hold the shirt up over her large round bosoms.
“There you go,” she said, letting the shirt drop.
“Hold on,” Landon said. “One more.” He looked at the camera screen. “It was a little blurry.” Without another word, his mother hiked her shirt up above her tits yet again. Here goes nothing, Landon thought. He held the camera at a similar angle, yet this time, it wasn’t his cheek that he placed against the soft flesh of his mother’s breast. Instead, Landon tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth, wrapping it around her puffy left nipple.
“Landon,” she said in a tone that he couldn’t read. He positioned the camera phone, extending his mouth a bit to envelop more of the soft motherly protrusion. He applied a hint of suction to his own mother’s breast and then snapped a photo. “Landon, honey.”
“One more.” He begin licking the underside of her huge left bosom, slowly yet firmly, working his way up toward the nipple again. He absentmindedly shifted the camera and pressed a button or two, but didn’t think he’d taken another image.
“Landon,” his mother uttered as he continued exploring the breast with his mouth. “Landon, this is—”
“Angela?” Landon heard his father say. Landon quickly released his mother’s exquisite nipple and pulled away while she let her shirt fall back into place. His father, a short, solid man with salt and pepper, closely cropped hair, stood at the entranceway to the kitchen looking in. From his angle, it was possible that he’d just seen what Landon had been doing.
“What are you two doing?” her husband asked, not sounding accusatory. Landon and his mother glanced at each other.
“I was just giving Landon a neck message,” she said.
“A neck message?” Her husband was headed toward the staircase carrying a glass of water but then stopped.
“Yeah,” Landon said. “I’ve got this weird neck thing going on. I don’t know why.”
“How was the party?” he asked.
“It was good,” Landon replied. “I mean…it was fine.”
“Good,” his father said. “That’s good. I know you were disappointed about the prom and everything, so I’m glad to hear you made the best of it.”
“Yeah,” Landon said.
“Honey,” he said to Landon’s mom. “Are you coming up?”
“In a little while,” she said.
“Alright.” The forty-eight-year-old man ascended the staircase slowly, seemingly more slowly than Landon had ever seen him do in the past. What made it seem even longer was that his mother’s eyes were intent on Landon’s the whole time. The two of them didn’t say a word until he heard the door to the bedroom shut.