Mom at the Roxy

The next several weeks of that summer were the most thrilling of my life. My Mom and I came to the realization that we could continue our mother/son relationship, while at the same time bring each to new heights of passion. We had sex with many more times.

But best of all, we talked. We talked about the past, we talked about the future, but mostly we lived in the moment, not caring about anything else.

I continued my long-distance relationship with Angie, surreptitiously at first. I thought my Mother would be disapproving, or jealous at the very least. But that wasn't the case at all. In fact, she encouraged me to continue to do so. We both felt that our special relationship might not be sustainable - eventually we would both need to return to a normal life, and possibly break our physical bond.

I spoke to Angie every few days. Sometimes, we talked about our relationship. Mostly, though, we talked and fantasized about the hot sex we would have upon her return. Basically, it was nothing more than phone sex. She would describe her fantasies to me, and I would describe mine to her, and we would masturbate together over the phone.

No fantasy was left uncovered. Mostly though, I steered her back toward her admission of a lesbian relationship. She knew that made me hotter than anything, and she certainly did nothing to discourage me.

Of course, Angie had no idea about the heights that my sexual adventures had taken me during the summer. Surprisingly, my frequent sex with my Mother did nothing to dampen my sexual feelings toward Angie. The relationship with my Mother was different, somehow, and I still greatly desired my girlfriend.

My Mom prodded and cajoled me into talking about my sex life with Angie. I even admitted to the long distance mutual masturbation sessions. This was embarrassing at first, until I figured out that listening to my stories made her incredibly hot and horny. In fact, my tales frequently served as foreplay for torrid sex with my Mother.

And so it went that summer. Hot sex with my Mother, phone sex with my girlfriend.

My relationship between my Mother and I grew increasingly intimate. One Sunday morning, she and I lounged in bed after some wanton, sweaty wakeup sex. The sunlight streaming through the bedroom window bathed our body in glowing warmth. Our discussion turned to the past and her relationship with my father, which was a subject we had always carefully avoided.

"He was a good man, and I loved him," she was saying. Her eyes were distant as she transported herself back to those years. "It's just that our interests diverged."

"Why? What do you mean?"

She looked at me pointedly. "He told you that I had several affairs outside the relationship, didn't he?"

"Yes. He said that's why you divorced."

"Well that's true, at least partly." She rolled over onto her stomach and cupped her chin in her hands. She looked at me with sad eyes.

"Troy," she said slowly, "Your father and I were swingers early in our marriage, for the first few years after you were born. We had sex with other couples."

She paused, and I nodded for her to go on.

She swallowed. "But before long, that changed. I wanted to keep swinging, but your father was no longer interested. He just...he just seemed to think that fatherhood meant that he had to change our lifestyle. I guess I disagreed. I knew, I still know, that that didn't have to be the case."

I digested this information for a while, staring absently at the ceiling, basking in the morning sunlight. My curiosity was aroused.

I cleared my throat. "What's it like?"

"What's what like?"

"Swinging."

Mom bit her lower lip. "Well..." she paused, and I rolled on my side to look at her. "Well, that's a hard question to answer. Physically, it's incredible. Emotionally, it carries some baggage for some people. Not for me, but like I said, it became a problem with your father. It kind of depends on what kind of relationship you have with your partner. Myself, I loved it. Still do."

My eyebrows arched with surprise. "Still?"

"Sure. Still. How do you think I met Hank?"

I nodded. Sore subject, that one. Hank was there when Mom discovered my wallet. He knew all about what I had done.

She changed the direction of the conversation. She didn't want to talk about Hank any more than I did. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess it's something I fantasize about with Angie."

"Does she know about it?"

"Sort of. I mean, I have this thing about being with Angie and another woman. We talk about it on the phone. And she's willing. To fantasize about it I mean. We do this thing where she pretends she's with a girl, having sex, and she describes it to me on the phone, while I jack off."

"Hmm. Do you think she'd ever want to do it for real?"

"I dunno. Maybe. She told me once she had sex with another girl a couple of years ago. And I've mentioned it once or twice. About actually doing it, I mean. Not just me fantasizing about it."

"And how does she respond?"

"She gets kind of coy. I mean, she'll say something like 'well, maybe someday.' But that's about it."

She sat up at the foot of the bed, arms around her knees. "Maybe you should try being more direct. Just come out and ask if her she would do it for real."

I shook my head. "I'm not sure if I can do that. Not yet anyway. Besides, I have no idea how to go about making it happen, even if Angie agreed to it."

"That's easy. Just run an ad."

I chuckled. "Like in the Observer?" I was referring to the local alternative weekly newspaper. It contained a section of personal advertisements in the back. "I can't see Angie going for that."

Mom frowned at me, and brushed a few wayward strands of hair from her face. "Well, you'll never know if you don't ask her. Anyway, you'd be better off placing an ad in one of the real swinger magazines. There are a bunch of them covering Southern California. Have you seen the rack of them at the Roxy?" I nodded.

"You get serious responses with those ads. With the Observer, you might get a bunch of cranks and people playing games. Anyway, place an ad looking for a bi girl. You'll get responses. Not a lot, but enough to choose from. And you'll improve your odds considerably if you run a photo of yourself and Angie."

I snorted. "Get real, Mom. A photo's out of the question. And swinger magazines might be a little too hardcore for Angie." I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "How often do those magazines come out?"

"It depends. Monthly or quarterly."

"That settles it then. It would be months before we could make this happen. I think I should take my chances with the Observer."

"Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."

I smiled at her. "You sure seem to know what you're talking about."

She shrugged. "I've got some experience in the matter," she said with a shy smile. "You know Troy, I just want this to work out for you. And Angie too. I want to see you happy."

"I know Mom." I stretched out on the sheets, considering what she had just told me. "Tell me this - do you have experience with other girls, too?"

She laughed. "My, you're full of questions this morning." She tickled my feet playfully. "Well, for your information, I have. Lots of experience," she emphasized.

I kicked her hands away from my ticklish feet, while she continued. "I like getting it on with other women. I get horny just thinking about it."

She seemed deep in thought, and we went silent. After a few minutes, though, the quiet was broken by her girlish giggle. "Looks like I'm not the only one who gets horny." I looked up, and she nodded toward my crotch. My prick was semi-hard, and growing fast.

She looked at me with smoldering eyes, and breathed, "maybe I can take care of that." She crawled over to me, and lowered her mouth to my willing prick.

_________

"So Angie, what do you think"

A week had passed, and I was on the phone with Angie. I had decided to go with my Mother's instincts, at least partially. I had just broached the idea of running a personal ad in the Observer. I was in my usual position - flat on my back and nude, phone held to my ear. My prick was hard just from the thought of what I was asking Angie to do.

Unfortunately, she wasn't responding. I said a nervous, silent prayer.

Finally, she exhaled loudly into the telephone. "Okay, Troy, we'll do it. But if I don't like the response we get, I don't want to go through with it. I've got to be comfortable with the girl."

"Of course. I don't want to do anything you don't." I tried to sound cool and casual, but I'm sure she sensed my excitement. I began rubbing my erection.

"And it's got to be a single girl. I don't want any boyfriends or husbands complicating things, okay? And she has to be pretty."

"Of course," I replied. "This is going to be fantastic Angie!"

I was giddy with anticipation. "Tell, you what. I'll start thinking of what the ad will say and read it to you next time we talk. That way, I can place the ad, say, in the next week or two, and we should start getting responses by the time you get back out here. Let's see..." I consulted my mental calendar. "That's only three weeks."

"Okay." She laughed. "But you sure are in a hurry."

"I know," I admitted. "But I'm really excited about this Angie." I paused. "Are you excited?"

She was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I've gotta admit, I am." She chuckled. "This might be pretty...interesting."

__________

Mom seemed just as thrilled as me when I gave her the news the next evening - she was genuinely happy for Angie and me. But she cautioned me not to get my hopes up too high. Sometimes, she told me, swinger ads just don't work out like you hope they will. She offered to help me write the ad, but I didn't want to take the time. I picked up a copy of the Observer the next day and scanned the ads to get some ideas. I scribbled out some text and called Angie that evening.

"Okay, Angie, here's what I've got." I cleared my throat and recited the letter: "Attractive couple, early 20's seek slim and attractive bi woman for fun times and hot sex. She's a blond gorgeous bi hardbody. He's attractive and horny. We're both sane and excited - you be too. Please send photo and phone.

"There. What do you think?"

"Hmm," she paused. "Well, I'm not sure if I'd call myself either bi or gorgeous."

"Oh c'mon Angie," I scolded. You're definitely gorgeous. And I'm pretty sure that the whole point of the ad is that you're bi."

She giggled. "Yeah, okay. I guess you're right. But what's this thing about being sane?"

"A lot of the ads say that. I guess it's to make sure weirdoes don't respond."

"They better not."

"So, is it okay then? I can fax the ad to the Observer tomorrow."

Silence.

"Angie?"

"Okay," she said quietly. "Let's do it."