Modern Relations (part 04): Alex And Her Mother (Halloween) free porn video

Kevin lay semi-spooned over Alex as she finished her story.

“Unfair!” he exclaimed with 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.

Kevin popped up to get water for them. He filled two glasses then carried them into the bedroom, handing Alex hers. “You recovered pretty fast from... all the ick,” he said. “Do you suppose running Phil off gave you an advantage.”

Alex sat back against the headboard feet pulled up protectively.

“That was only part of it. Jane, my therapist, first thought I was in denial about it. But denial usually leads to repression or self destructive behavior like drug abuse, religious zealotry, cutting or whoring around.”

“Whoring around sounds okay.”

“Different kind of whoring, smartass” she said. “I guess successfully confronting, then exiling Phil together put Clayton in my deepest trust circle. So my first time was both special and safe, psychologically. I don’t think you have... porn level sex as a pseudo-virgin without establishing trust first.”

“Yeah, going from virgin to sex bomb in one hour... seems a little unbelievable.”

“But it happened. Mom’s a medical scientist, essentially, and so are her parents. I assimilated modest behavior from friends but my folks never saddled me with that ‘sex is a sin’ and ‘girls are temptresses’ crap. I’d been masturbating forever, remember. And Clayton was super hot and experienced to boot, making it that much easier.”

Kevin touched her arm reassuringly. She smiled sweetly at him, so he decided to push for more information about Clayton.

“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. “I know your mom fucked your kind-of-boyfriend, the rest is just details, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… I’ve never told anyone about that summer except it in the most vague terms. Some pretty... crazy ‘details’ 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, waiting for a reaction.

Kevin’s mouth dropped open and his cock instantly sprang to life, “OMG! You fucked your...?”

“You’re not disgusted,” she said.

“My cock and I are dying to know more,” he said, pointing downward.

Alex unfolded arms and extended legs in relief. She deliberately looked at Kevin and spread her legs. Kevin 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, 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 first day. 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 McMillan’s party was the talk of 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 from alcatraz. 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. Dressing up, I stepped out of my room and bumped into Mom who was also dressing up for Halloween party herself. She 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 and a tiny black suede vest. This was all topped off with a plumed hat and a red silk sash tied around her waist below her flat midriff. Her unsupported tits, barely hidden by the unbuttoned shirt, clamoured for attention but her beautiful face drew the eye more. Intellectually, I always recognized mom was a Betty but she shunned makeup as a rule, and wore it lightly when she did put it on. Tonight she was decked out.

“Wow Mom... you’re gorgeous. I look like a potato,” Mom always dressed up for Halloween and attended parties. Had she always dressed like this?

“Thanks sweetie. Don’t be hard on yourself,” she lied. “You’ve got the right idea, just poor execution. 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 full glass rested on her dresser. Her schedule and ethics prevented frequent drinking. I’d rarely seen her drink more than a cocktail, but she’d downed half the bottle. 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. I liked tipsy mom.

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 you plan the opposite.” 

I sputtered. Mom lifted my skirt and huffed in disgust. 

“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.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said, leaving abruptly.

I followed her directions not knowing it would change 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 blushed from embarrassment.

“You need to relax. Pour some wine and have a small sip. Take time to taste before you swallow.” I blushed redder at the double entendre. The wine numbed my tongue but somehow I tasted spice with a fruity aftertaste. I exhaled deeply, relaxing. A few more relaxed breaths centered me. I felt 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.

“First things first: 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 made me hot as I recalled grooming 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. I ran a hand through my cropped hair. “He trimmed my hair down.” 

“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?”

“Pffttt,” I managed to keep the spray of wine in my cup. “Mom!”

“Yes, then.”

I looked at her. My pussy flushed with heat again. I took a drink and finally decided to come clean. “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 or if he’s bringing a date.” I said it matter of factly. I really did like him, but somehow felt no jealousy.

“Being careful, tho?” She meant more than condoms. I nodded solemnly.

“I suppose, I’m obligated to say something cliche to make it clear I don’t approve or 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 to play safely and carefully. Really, I couldn’t ask for more.” 

She resumed plucking, the serious moment 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 hair pins from her drawers. 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 pink tartan skirt very different from the grey 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 an area from an inch below my navel down to three inches above the thigh-highs. Even 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, she 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 peaking 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.

She brought back 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 if I’d had it on. 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. An eight inch gap running up from waistline to collar exposed my midriff, knotted oxford and 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 pointed to the mirror, “You may look.”

“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 soft white thigh, daring the viewer to lift a brief pink tartan skirt to see what lay beneath. My pussy quivered at the thought. The mutilated oxford bisected a flat expanse of abdomen and chest, hiding my small perky breasts. Makeup enlarge my green eyes. Slimmed eyebrows made me look like a woman instead of a cute girl. Lip gloss coated my lips with a translucent shine.

“Wish we could do something about this,” I waved around my smallish chest.

“Shut up, and 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. You have legs ‘up to here’, no cellulite, and a flat stomach. You’ve got cute breasts hiding demurely in there. And best of all, you have a brain to make them all work for you.”

Mom’s intensity washed through me. Mentally, I repeated her words, ‘spend time perfecting what you have,’ hoping to remember them, wisdom hard won.

She turned me to face her, the mirror on my left. “Now an asset you seem unaware of judging my what you wear day to day. Turn your head and look in the mirror.”

“What do you see?” I searched for what she meant. The heels that lifted and sculpted my calves noticeably, also accented my butt. The skirt flared out behind me in contrast to how it hung flat in front of me.

“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. My two deep dimples peaked 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.

Perversely, I felt more naked in this getup then before I put it on.

--

“Okay now, down stairs,” 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 slender beauty. Never sit back, not in that skirt and those heels. 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.”

“Mom, that’s funny coming from you. 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 when I’m dressed like that?”

I thought for a minute. 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. And 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, stand and walk and talk to project authority.”

Finally 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, my cell phone, the lip gloss, three condoms, a tiny bottle of lube and a long piece of green plastic.

“Mom, I’m not really that kind of girl,” I said, blushing at the prophylactics. 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 british accent, “Okay, Q, nice knife?”

“Heh, It’s the latest in surgical implements, Bond, not a knife. Use it to cut not stab, if you must. A girl needs to protect herself with more than rubbers.”

I studied the blade and Mom. The kind warm woman who raised me was all business now. I shook my head in disbelief.

A car horn sounded outside. “Okay, that’s us, let’s go.” 

“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 exclaimed in mock outrage, “that’s my line.” She laughed.

“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?”

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 began driving, chattering a mile a minute about traffic, her ‘fro wig, how sexy we both 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,” she said. “No one will recognise 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 that 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 out to have fun on the town without her kid.

--

McMillan’s pulsed with deep industrial beats. The house was an edwardian mansion recently renovated in the post modern fashion. Andy, dressed as a very unsexy prisoner, guarded the stoop looking anxious. His costume looked rented. He had a plastic ball and chain attached to one leg.

Andy noticed me immediately, ogling 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 stood over him looking down in a pose manufactured to project power, I wasn’t sorry at all.

“Alex?” He looked confused.

“Yup, it’s me.” He stood and looked me over. I was eye to eye with him.

“Alex. You look fine girl.” He quipped ineptly.

“‘Girl’? Are you gay?” I blurted out. I slapped a hand to my mouth. “Hup,” I hiccuped as if I could put the words back in. One. Glass. Of. Wine.

Andy said nothing. 

“So I’m cover? You bring the socially-awkward-nerdy-but-cute virgin to deflect gossip.” 

“That’s not it,” he said, waving his hands.. “I’m hooking up with someone else and it has to be secret.”

“That’s doesn’t make me feel better!”

“I know! I’m sorry, Okay, it can’t be helped.”

It could! I’d planned to take Andy to a secluded room. Plans dashed, I felt like shit. But Mom’s words were fresh. I could dwell on the bad or build up the good. I wanted Andy to know what he missed out on without letting the whole school gossip about me. I needed a good cover and his assured silence. And now I had both, probably.

“Andy, do you think anyone will recognize me?” I asked, switching gears.

“Not in a million years.”

“Okay, who are you meeting?” Andy hesitated. “spill it.”

“It’s Trish, okay.” He leaned in to whisper, conspiratorially looking around as if spies lurked in the bushes. He had to mean Trish, Harlan McMillan’s younger sister. This was his party and he was known for being protective and violent. It explained the secrecy.

“Okay, does anyone know you invited me?”

“No, I just told Trish I’d bring someone...”, he looked at me sheepishly but continued, “...someone safe.”

Anonymity would protect my reputation. But now I needed to assure his silence and complicity. “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. Trish McMillan had a no reputation at all, thanks in part to her overprotective brother.

“That will work, you brought another Trish to the party.” Andy looked confused. “I want you to introduce me up there as Trish. If you want secrecy, I want anonymity.”

“That won’t work.... Because, this!” He waved an arm up and down at me. “Trish will implode when she’s sees you’re my date.”

“Aww that’s sweet, you like her,” I said. “Look, it’s easy, I’m Trish your cousin from, ah, New York City. I’ll back you up.”

“Okay, I guess. But why do you want to hide?” He asked.

“Whatever you hear about your cousin Trish at school Monday, keep your mouth shut about who she is,” I said. Andy nodded, understanding.

“Andy, if you want to do something like this again, tell the girl ahead of time. Then everyone gets to plan their night.” He looked relieved.

---

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. They converted the main living area into a foggy dance floor. Revelers were grinding and sweating to industrial sounds. 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 legendary 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 cheered. There was also a guy puking in the bushes.

The frank, appraising stares I got on the tour bolstered my confidence and heated me up. A few people, mostly women, smiled at me and nodded appreciation. I hadn’t expected that. By the end I was ready for more than furtive glances.

Andy’s plan worked except Trish’s friends corralled both of us into Trish’s room for an 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 found Clayton in the kitchen while looking for water. He was filling two cups with beer out of a keg. Our eyes met as I reached for the cup stack. He was a dressed as a baseball player. I introduced myself as Trish..He politely responded and winked knowingly. He’d recognized me at least.

“Who’s your date?” I asked looking at the two cups. When he told me I asked, “Regular or random.” She was a random pick up, a one night stand. I turned to get water from the fridge.

“Do you study in that?” Clayton asked.

“Of course, it’s a school uniform, silly,” 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.’ Clayton left me to my audience, but not before giving me an approving wink.

I turned to the groaners only to be confronted by the three musketeers. Outside of Andy and Clayton, these were the only people in the part who actually worked up the nerve to talk to me. And they talked well. Athos, Porthos and Aramis, all dashing young boys from USC, 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 wondered coyly, “That’s either three for one of you or one for each of you.”

“Well it’s certainly not one for all, that’s for sure,” quipped Porthos indignantly. Athos spewed beer and howled.

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” 

As one the other two musketeers looked at Aramis and then at me with wondrous looks.

Porthos added, “Do they say that? I’m not certain.”

“Actually, I hadn’t planned on so much attention.” I smiled at that and flushed. They all looked crestfallen, “I don’t want to break up the gang either. It’s up to you.” 

Without a word between them they each nodded slowly.

“One for all then,” I quipped bravely. “Drink up, men. No drinking upstairs,“ I said leaving in that direction. The three musketeer 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 scuff for an open room with Ariel and a skeleton with a boner. The Skeleton lost and 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 with discarded towels and condoms in it sat next to a small leather couch against the far wall. 

I locked the door once we were in. My pussy flushed with anticipation and, to be honest, fear. 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? Or was it a gangbang?

“Okay,” 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 hysterically 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 sock. Even Aramis was nonplussed. 

“Well, is that okay?” I asked. Heads nodded. It was not 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 Porthos,” said Aramis rolling his eyes, “she needs to take her panties off too.”

I nodded my pussy suddenly flooded like it hadn't when I was giving the instructions. Teasing them I reached under my skirt and moving the thong down so they could see it. I was doing this. 

“First musketeer to get naked gets to take it the rest of the way off,” I said. Stunned no more, the musketeer exploded into action. I untied the knot Mom had made, loosening 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, hardon first. He walked up to me crouched down and pulled down my thong so I could step out of them. Light touches on my lower legs sent pulses of heat through my pussy. He threw them aside, then ran his hands up the backs of my legs. Moans escaped both our throats and his hands met bare thigh flesh and he squeeze each cheek. I felt the beginning of 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 was true. 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 better kisser and passable masturbater.

Breaking it off I looked over at Athos, who stood erect in the center of the room. I slid off my tops and placed them with the clutch on the desk next to me. 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 so 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 stepped back in front of Athos and crouched down, his rampant cock inches from my face. The others commented on the better view and 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 clearly 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. His friends cheered. As I fought to control his arms, Athos pumped load after load into my throat. Having an audience watch me struggle to swallow while fighting Athos for control brought me to a tiny orgasm.

Athos settled down as I softly milked his cock clean. He looked down at me seriously. I popped off his cock and smiled up at him, asking, “how was that?.” He smiled back and nodded.

“Okay,” I said standing up. “One of you boys put a cock in me pussy.” As I walked confidently to the couch, Aramis and Porthos cleared off it. I kneeled up on my 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 while Porthos was still putting on the condom. 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. Imagining how slutty I looked heightened my pleasure.

Suddenly Aramis shuddered in 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 Athos push against me. 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.

Shit, Mom was checking up on me. It rang again. The musketeers remained frozen. I swallowed Porthos’s cum and spoke, “Can someone bring me my phone?” Aramis pulled it out of the clutch and threw it to Porthos who handed it to me. It rang a third time.

“Everyone, quiet please,” I requested and pushed the talk button. My pussy flushed. How naughty should I be?

“Trish speaking!” I didn’t want them overhearing Mom call me Alex. Meanwhile, Athos continued plugging away in me. I flexed my pussy, milking him. 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.”

“Stupid, boy. I’m sorry to hear that sweetie, are you alone?” I was getting hotter as Athos increased his pace.

“Oh, no Mom, 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 pause and a muffled sound. “Really sweetie,” she continued. “And how did they rescue you?” Aramis, grinning wickedly, pinched my nipple. I squeaked.

“I see,” she said. “And you reward them properly?” 

She exhaled deeply. Was she enjoying this, too?

“Yes, M... Cindy, they...”, another pinch, “...they’re being perfect gentlemen about it.” 

Had I just admitted being with three men to Mom? Did she think I was chatting with them or naked with them? 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 less than an inch from my open lips. Aramis stroked my nipples in rhythm to Athos’s thrusts.

“So, their swords are sheathed?” she asked after a time. 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... um...” I let out a suddenly 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 and sucked on it softly. The flood was rising higher. Aramis laughed and the boys resumed their commentary. Mom, knew everything now.

“Oh baby, is your mouth full of cock?” Christ, my Mom was... I had not 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. I could hear Mom moaning from the other end of the line.

After I calmed down I heard Mom say. “Remember curfew, and have fun.” She hung up.

Mom and I had just had phone sex. Suddenly I felt free, I wanted to do more.

Athos, pulled out. His orgasm hadn’t even registered to me. I pulled off the cock in my mouth. I wanted to go all out.

“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.

After several minutes I felt ready. Aramis sat on the couch. Sitting back between his legs, I mounted myself on his rubberized cock. He rubbed my clitorus as I adjusted to his girth. Porthos put on a condom waited for my nod, then he pushed into my waiting pussy.

“I god, I’m taking two cocks,” I said rhetorically.

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, just 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 as a keepsake to remember his first time. He bashfully thanked me.

“Before we go, I’d like the thank you all. You were all true gentlemen.” I was hesitant to open the door, as if expecting the whole school to be on the other side waiting in disapproval. They thanked my in turn.

--

I opened the door into the second floor hallway. Just then 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 had to step over a passed out sailor to make it into the hall.

We parted ways on the first floor. I made my way onto the dance floor. I discarded several drunks and one or two rather creepy admirers. Finally, a blue devil began dancing with 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 and grinding his hard cock against my pussy. At a song transition he grabbed my hand, leading me to dark corner. The devil pushed me down, fishing his cock out of blue tights. I squatted and took his cock in. 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. However, I didn’t have an orgasm from it.

I returned to the dance floor and picked up a football player with jersey number 36. I knew him but he failed to recognise me at all. He took me up to the first floor. We couldn’t find a room. At the end of the hall there was a table and a large mirror. A bowl full of condoms and tiny lube bottles rested on the table. I lead 36 to it, tossed a condom at him, and bent over with locked knees and hands on the table edge. I didn’t need the lube.

36 flipped up my skirt and pushed his cock into my waiting pussy. I could see the whole thing and my expression 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 continue. I remained bent over and shrugged, looking at his reflection as his face brightened. 11 fished out aTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.