The Ice is Melting Ch. 02

My mom loved to suck my cock (which is nice) and she especially liked being naked and on her knees with my hands gripping her head and thrusting my tool hard and fast, to the back of her mouth. She finally admitted to me that after so many years as a single mother and needing to be the authoritarian figure both at home and at work, she realized the oppressive burden on her. Crystal felt that the release from the pressure of making decisions and maintaining a stern, nearly unapproachable demeanor had taken away her youth. The need for the filthy language she thought, was a reaction to too much religious training. She welcomed becoming a willing partner and a playful submissive, and was she ever built for sexual gratification. She was always up for trying new things. I was getting ten or more hummers a day, and had gradually planted my flag in her lovely ass. She made the perfect slave, and I reveled in it.

Thursday was winding down, and my energy was at a low ebb. Mom was worn-out from the strenuous activities and tucked in bed. Though as she reminded me, she would not be able to sleep because her sore body required a heating pad, and I should probably come-up soon "to apply some moist heat to my swollen areas." We often share her bed now, and I promised that I would crawl in with her later, as soon as the redness in my own groin cooled down. I was still keyed-up and over-heated, it was a humid August night and I was hot from the "sexercises." So I grabbed a couple of cold brews-one to just rest in my lap- and sat outside on the porch, looking for a breeze.

That's when the guys showed up. I actually heard them first. They were chuckling drunkenly and tossing empty beer cans down the street, slapping high-fives and making odd hooting noises. I attempted to hurry inside, but to no

avail. They banged loudly on the door, and serenaded the neighborhood with lusty phrases, swear words and vague references to my mom. Porch lights were coming on down the block, so I was forced to step outside and head them off. They laughed boisterously, slapped their hands on my shoulders and congratulated me for no apparent reason. I settled them down abit, and we talked on the darkened porch.

This was another eighty-proof conversation, littered with drunk giggling and slurred crude words. It didn't take long before the first incriminating question was delivered, I think by Richie, but then the accusations and demands for details flew at me as if I were in a cage at some gothic inquisition. Their level of discretion had been greatly reduced by alcohol and their libidos were on overdrive. "Are you really fucking your mom?" Then it might have been Greg, but who knows in the dark, and what does it matter? "How often do you bang that shit?" And then the chorus, "Does she suck your cock?... How long you been doing her?...Does she shave her snatch?..."

They were half in the bag, so they showed no further sign of restraint or indecision. I was bombarded from all sides and the questions became more insistent and more graphic. And even in the soft twi-light of a waning moon, it was obvious that my face was turning red and more sweat pored from my exhausted body. Ever since we started down our incestuous path, I had always practiced a stoic look and an expression of hurt and insulted sensibilities, and my mother and I had prepared easy answers we could rely on if ever "caught" in an awkward situation. And like a young actor suddenly under the hot lights, I froze in place. But really, how prepared can you be for such a prying, taboo, interrogation? My excuses came out in a hesitant, stammer of nonsense.

They could sense immediately that I was guilty and at first, the three of them only wanted to hear more of the salacious details. "Is she naked every night?...Have you done her ass?...Is she good?..."

As my stuttering attempts to conceal the truth and the ridiculous amount of flop sweat dripping off of my chin confirmed their guesses, they pressed me to allow them inside. It may have been the bravery born of drunkenness, or just mob rule, but they barged their way in but stopped in the hall, maybe some semblance of decency remained. At this point, I couldn't even tell who was speaking anymore. The clamor of crude comments and obscene remarks became so loud that I was afraid they would not only wake my mom, but the entire neighborhood. I had to continually shush them and plead for quiet. I stalled them, explaining that my mom was asleep, and that our "indiscretion" had been only a one-time dysfunctional thing, that we never speak about. But they were not entirely buying my tale. Finally, I was forced to agree that they could come back tomorrow, if they promised to keep quiet, and to never mention this again. Another major mistake!

They laughed uproariously as they bounced down the steps, slapping each other on the back and making various gestures of hip-thrusting and bloated cheeks. Then I think I heard Greg, maybe Rich, who shouted, "we're going to party with Crystal, tomorrow!" And Jimmy or Richie echoed, "those big tits are goin' to be ours." I was stunned and frightened. I thought to myself that they must be kidding. Or bluffing. But by the way that they carried-on as they danced down the street, I knew that Pandora's Box had just been flung open, and I was not going to get a minute of sleep tonight. Even worse, I had until the next night to prepare and explain to my mom.

After a terribly restless night filled with erotic imagery of virgin sacrifice and jailhouse " sexcapades", I woke up sweaty and miserable but with an excrutiatingly, huge hard-on. With a live-in sexual slave, I haven't needed to flog my own tool much, but I could hardly ask my mom to come suck my cock because the reason that it is so hard, is that I am having vivid visions of her being gang-banged. So I yanked my rock-solid cock while picturing my mother with all of her holes filled, and her writhing in ecstasy. I wrestled with the matter of whether I secretly desired to show her off.

I was conflicted about secretly agreeing to, in a way "pimp" my mom, and strangely jealous about sharing her, or losing her altogether. Yet there was also an odd, exciting jolt about commanding my mother to strip infront of a roomful of horny, young guys, and act the whore. I was impressed with the girth and solid feel of my own boner and it felt good to wrap my hand around it, to the fantasy of Crystal "performing" for my ultimate pleasure. The fantasy was probably better than the reality. I came like a fountain.

In the afternoon my head was spinning as I watched the minutes melt away, and the near-silent ticking of the clock was like a hammer-blow to my brain. While listening to my heart thump, I tried to rehearse what I might manage to say to my mom, suggesting that in just a few short hours, three drunken men are coming over like an invading Mongrel Horde to have sex with her, and I sorta invited them. "Uh mom," I started, (so far, so good.) "You know Greg, Rich and Jimmy. Well, I kind of thought that you,...I mean we, might entertain them this evening..." This was not going to be easy!

When she came into the room later that day, she could see that I was troubled by something. Her first impulse was to lift her flimsy top over her golden tresses, exposing those firm bouncy breasts. This was well-known to bring a smile to my face. She knew I loved it when she leaned-in behind me and brushed her sweet tits against my neck and back, causing ripples of goose flesh to cover me. She would drape her arms around me and rub my chest while nuzzling my neck, and softly stroke the giant bulge emerging in my pants. Her big tits squashed against me and warming my back. I always enjoyed having her fine rack as my personal squeeze-toy, and the foreplay for all of our sex games, was a thorough groping and tongue-massage of her 38 double-Ds.

She noticed right away that I did not respond with my usual drooling arousal and the hungry passion that she was used to, and questioned my lack of response. "What's wrong JR," she puzzled. "I heard your rowdy buddies making all that racket last night. Did they say or do something to upset you?" She sauntered around in front of me and plopped her delightful butt onto my lap. "Something must be wrong if you don't want to play with my boobs. Would you like to try something different today?" She had a very sexy, not-quite innocent way of putting the "Mom in MILF."

I could only groan in reply and ponder the exotic possibilities. I tried to get myself in the mood by cupping her large breasts, weighing the firm globes, and licking at the soft, pointy nipples. But it was distressingly obvious that there was a considerable problem. She wriggled seductively in my lap, reaching one hand inside my loose shorts and slowly stretching out the wrinkled flesh of my limp cock until her fingers wrapped securely around it and it grew to it's accustomed dimensions. Crystal slid to the carpet between my bare legs and began to paint her tongue along the veiny length of my rod.

Her wet, plump tongue teased the helmeted cap of my straining tool; she lifted her beguiling ocean-blue eyes to me in an oddly resigned expression of relief, and let-out a deep sigh. She kissed the tip, slobbering a little saliva over the head, and rose to her feet. "We both knew that this might happen, eventually." My eyes widened and my mouth hung open. "No one's to blame. I heard your friends last night. They weren't exactly quiet, or subtle."

I stuttered and stumbled over what to say, and how to apologize for my appalling blunder. "Mom, I'm so sorry. I don't know how I could be so careless, or stupid," She tried to soothe me, but I had ruined everything and we both realized that. "Mom, what can we do? They're going to be here soon, right after dinner. And I seriously can't imagine what they are up to."

"Look," she said sweetly. "Let's just see what they want. I know these boys, they are mostly just big talkers. Maybe we can work something out. These boys have been guests in this house for a while and are friends of yours, I'm sure things will be okay. Besides," she stroked my hair and kissed me on the nose, "I see the way they look at me and I've heard the whispers before. It's mostly harmless. I used to see that same look in your eyes too. They're not bad guys basically, just young and dumb and full of cum. They'll probably just run home and jerk-off the same way that you did." She smiled again, and I felt better. "We'll deal with whatever happens. Now let's take our showers and have a nice dinner." Even fully nude, she was still my mom.

I was totally confused but I felt better that she wasn't horribly upset. We settled down to a remarkably relaxed meal. As night fell, I was feeling more nervous and developed an awful knot in my chest. Also I was getting the alarming impression that my not-so-innocent mother was somehow finding the idea of three young, virile studs ogling her magnificent body, was thrilling to her. And that it thoroughly enhanced the fully submissive approach to sex that brought out the craven devil in her. And I noticed that she still wasn't wearing a bra. Our house-rule had become that bras were okay for outings or when visitors were here, but her tits should always be accessible to me. She was very happy to show them off for me, but scrupulously careful to protect her image, up till now. I also saw that her sheer top was opened one button lower than usual, clearly displaying the creamy smooth skin on the top of those enormous mounds. On leaning over, her abundant cleavage appeared like a bottomless cave and her gorgeous blonde hair was brushed to fine silk, and worn down just covering her perky nipples.

When the doorbell rang I jumped, upsetting the dishes, but Crystal playfully said, "The party is on." She swept casually to the door and ushered them in, clearly announcing, "JR look, your friend are here." I was surprised to see that they were all nicely dressed and had even brought a few bottles of nice wine, as if on a date. She welcomed them into the living room, seated them comfortably and turned on the stereo.

I was at first taken by surprise, the three of them lounged while my mom served us all wine. She even asked me to bring in cheese and fruit for snacks. As the drinks flowed, the stilted mood steadily lightened. They were again, just guests in a familiar home and acted respectful. A few snide remarks were passed with a laugh, and there were smirks all around when they caught sight of my mom's erect nipples poking through the silky top. When mother went to refill Richie's glass, he drew it closer to him, compelling her to suddenly lean closer and expose a bit more skin. He mentioned that he liked his waitresses "to show a little enthusiasm when serving him. I like the way you bounce." then he chuckled to the others.

When she moved to pour Greg's wine, he casually patted her firm rear-end and let his hand linger casually for another few seconds. We were all astonished that her only reaction was to smile coyly and ask in a purring tone, "Is that how I'm going to be tipped for my generous service?" She caught them momentarily off guard, and then she complimented them on how nice they dressed , and that each of them had a handsome, athletic look. The general reply was that she also looked sexy and seductive, and would make a fine cocktail server. Someone even mentioned that she seemed better-suited to work in a Gentleman's Club, than teaching school. She smiled demurely and suggested that she still may have things to teach. She winked at me, and seated herself nearly on my lap, in the big plush chair I was on.

She crossed her legs revealing a lot of smooth thigh beneath her short skirt, and casually bounced her ankles to the rhythm of the music, causing her toned calf to flex and balancing her backless, black pumps delicately on the tips of her painted, pink toes. The boys were hypnotized by the slow, swaying motion of her four-inch heel, teetering on her gently rolling foot. She laid an arm across my shoulder, and with only a hint of nerves, began to stroke my short, spikey hair. With her other hand, she placed my arm in her lap and casually rested my hand in the small cleft between her thighs. I could sense the warm, wetness of her vagina and could feel the tremors mounting in her firm torso. I was starting to sweat and my brow furrowed with confusion as she cuddled against me. I noticed all the eyes in the room narrow-in on her crotch, and they all seemed more alert, inching closer to the edge of their seats.

My mom was humming softly to herself and her hands gripped the chair until her knuckles turned white. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut for a minute and her entire body seemed to shudder. I thought she had been trying to tease them, infact that may have been her original plan. But now it was apparent that an orgasm was building uncontrollably inside of her, and we were all about to witness my mom caught in the throes of passion. If the plan was to excite herself, it was working perfectly. if it was to in a way, distract or discourage them, it was a monumental failure.

Greg and Rich were perched on the couch, and now Greg patted the cushion between them, asking Crystal to come sit with them. She recovered a bit, though her face and chest looked flushed, and her hair had a sheen of perspiration. She politely answered, "I'll only leave my son's side if he wants me to, he's the master of this house." I was caught off-guard, and now all eyes were on me. The teasing had worked but I'm not sure of the desired effect. They had a presence of thinly controlled hunger, and I noticed for really the first time, that they were all bigger than me. And there was a whiff of testosterone in the air. Mom stared at me shakily, and was obviously uncertain of my response. This was the first time that she had doubted me since we started having sex. That's when Richie strolled over and extended his hand to her. He looked squarely in my eyes and said that he was certain, under the circumstances that I wouldn't mind. Now mom's brow arched as she searched my face for a sign, I merely shrugged. I could only nod my head impotently, as he took her wrist and led her to the sofa. I was in complete shock as she glanced over her shoulder at me once, then dutifully followed him to the other side of the room.

She appeared nervous like an innocent lamb being led to slaughter, and waiting for her "white knight" to ride to the rescue. Then a large hand applied a sharp spank to her shapely buttocks and she fairly skipped to the sofa, yelping a tiny squeal of excitement. No longer waiting or wishing for my approval, she ran her long fingers over the zipper of each one's pants. The three guys had now stood up, surrounding her and walling her off from me. I had to move in my seat just to see what they were doing. They lewdly appraised her figure, fingering the soft material of her outfit, and sniffing and licking at her face. Then as some sultry Jazz note played on the stereo, Richie asked her to dance for them. She silently appealed to me for consent, and only my wide eyes and startled expression answered her. Greg spoke-up, "Tell her it's okay JR, tell her to dance for us."

I numbly nodded and slouched further down in my chair while my mom began to slither and grind on each of them, and their sweaty paws began to explore her shapely contour. Richie grinned broadly and pulled a five-dollar bill from his pocket, folded it length-wise and rubbed it, up and down in her cleavage. "Here's a nice tip for you, Crystal," (the first time that he had ever used her first name,) "but you have to earn it."

"Tell me what to do," she purred, as her own hands slowly glided along her hips, up her ribs and underneath her heaving breasts. She undid another button on her blouse, bringing all but the pouty nipples to view.

Greg got behind her and eased his hands around her swaying hips, but then held-on tight. Pressing his groin into her firm backside, while hiking the small skirt up to her waist. I saw her involuntarily jump as she felt the bulge of his erection push against her ass, and the faint tug of her moist panties being inched down her legs. His hand pressed on her back and gradually pushed her farther forward, and the sound of his belt being unbuckled made a big noise in the nearly silent room. Desperation was in her eyes as she looked pleadingly at me, wondering what to do next. She realized now, that other than with me, this was about to be her first sexual encounter with a strange man, and it looked to be an orgy. She wondered to herself if she could go through with it, and also worried about her lack of options. And a certain warm tingle in her vagina, was sending conflicting signals to her brain, flashing that this may prove to be extremely liberating and exciting. As if reading her mind, Greg positioned her back parallel to the floor and her hands were braced on the sofa. Then he bellowed, "Go ahead Crystal, you know what to do. You know you want it."

"Tell her to strip, JR," Richie demanded. He had a lecherous grin and was working his pants and shorts down.

I had a thunderous din clanging in my head and the room seemed to be spinning and getting dark around the edges. I was sweating buckets and needed to take a firm grasp of the padded arms of the chair, to stop the room from moving. I shook my head to clear it, and again I heard Rich telling me to tell mom, to strip. I was shrinking in on myself. "It's okay with me, I guess," was the stuttering reply. The only thing I could manage to squeak out.

"That's not good enough," Richie said. "I want you to tell her to listen to us, now." He moved directly infront of me, casting a wide, dark shadow on my face. He stared down at me menacingly, and issued a new demand. "If you want us to keep your little secret, and you still want to have sex with your mom, tell her that she is our slave now!" When she next looked in my direction; with Greg's bare, stiff cock poking at the wet, shiny entrance to her pussy, I saw the resigned expression and sensed our combined helplessness. "If you want," Richie offered, "you can yank your cock while your delicious mom entertains us. Now tell her to strip."