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"John!"

You turn to the sound of your name, recognizing the distinctively American accent in the sea of British voices.

"Mom!" You cry as you see your mother for the first time in years. Just under fifty, her tan skin was probably the product of weeks at the beach - or in the tanning salon. Her hair was a deep, dark brown that flowed to her shoulders, and her face was as beautiful as you remembered. She still had a great body for a 50-year old, her breasts perky and a small but firm butt. She was barely 5'3, so her petite figure fit under most guys nicely. And there had been a few.

You and your mom had a troubled relationship. She'd had three kids, all from different marriages. She'd left your father in New York to move to England and live with some guy, and bounced from boyfriend to boyfriend since. Out of those relationships, you'd gotten two younger sisters. One, Emma, was from a black Londoner, and the other, Josephine, was from some old rich Duke or something. You were still a little mad at her for leaving, but you saw her so often you could never really stay mad at her.

She was here alone, for once, and she was already drawing some stares. Her good looks had always made summers difficult, when she would come to visit and your friends would gawk at her and make lewd comments. You'd tried to rein them in, but they still clearly wanted to fuck her. In fact, it seemed like every other guy on this planet wanted to fuck her. And, just as clearly, she loved it.

"Oh, my sweet boy! You've grown again! How was the flight? Did they bump you up to first class? I told Ron not to but he's always doing things to surprise me. Trying to get on my good side, I guess."

Ron was the new guy, rich from some finance thing and clearly infatuated with your mother. She was wearing some designer you guessed was incredibly expensive, and her jewelry looked to be real diamonds the size of your fist. Goodness, she knew how to dress to impress. The outfit was also getting a lot of stares; some admiring, some jealous. Maybe that was the point. Between the guys and the girls staring, you felt famous as your mother led you through the airport. She was still discussing Ron, which you'd learned to tune out. She always seemed to truly love her boy toys. Until she truly didn't.

She turns to you. "So, are you hungry? We can get some food or we can head straight home."

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