{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"7a06b2d8-ca89-4eb3-acce-f05edb45b2d7","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2023-05-26T16:13:45.411Z","title":"My Mother, The Supermodel","slug":"my-mother-the-supermodel","shortId":"lVez0VKG","authorNote":"This is one of my more transgressive stories. There's an orgy, among other things. I posted it on Literotica, as polynices, in 2010 and more recently on Fetlife, but I've since taken it down from both sites. Barring pirated versions, I don't think it's out on the Internet at the moment.","disclaimer":"Of course, this is fantasy. The characters are imaginary. Oh, and if it matters, I'm definitely the author of the story.","type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"Son is tricked into fucking his famous (ex-) supermodel mother in front of an audience during an orgy she arranged at the family home. He's wanted to fuck her for some time and has compulsively wanked over her but he never planned to turn fantasy into reality. She did.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"de6c9482-44a9-496f-b624-72c444c8423a","title":null,"summary":"MY MOTHER, THE SUPERMODELThis is a complicated story – emotionally\ncomplicated anyway. I'm not sure ","wordCount":7346,"readTime":37,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

MY MOTHER, THE SUPERMODEL

This is a complicated story – emotionally\ncomplicated anyway. I'm not sure if I'll be able to bring myself to write\neverything down, but I'll try.

I'm not used to writing this kind of thing,\neither – personal stuff, I mean. What I normally write is reports – very dry;\nvery business-like. But this ...

Sorry, I'm beating about the bush. I'll try to\nget on with it. I'll give you the central facts first.

Fact 1: My mother is a famous fashion model.\nWell, she used to be a model – she's been more or less retired for a few years\nnow – but she's definitely famous. If you saw her picture you'd know her\ninstantly. She's the one with the slender, vulnerable look – with her fine\nblonde hair combed across her forehead like a boy's, and her oddly gawky limbs.\nThat's the way the papers described her anyway. One journalist called her a\n'willing victim'. He wrote that her eyes said 'Hurt me, please.' I was really\nshocked when I read that, but my mother laughed. It was par for the course, she\nsaid – all part of the publicity machine.

And, if you're wondering, she's nothing like a\nvictim in real life. She's been very successful, and she looks after her own\ninterests very well. She's a professional. The 'victim' thing was just a look.\nIn fact, everything's a 'look' in the fashion business. Don't believe anything\nyou find on the fashion pages. You're seeing just what they want you to see –\nthat's all.

Anyway, slender, waif-like and exploited –\nthat was my mother's stock-in-trade, even when she was in her middle thirties.\n(I've studied the pictures, so I know.)

Fact 2: This is a non-fact, actually. She has\nto have a name, so I'll call her Chloe. That isn't her real name, of course –\nthough the name she works under is similar: just a single word; two syllables.

Fact 3: My mother is Hungarian – or, at least,\nshe comes from Hungary. She's British now. She came here in the early eighties,\nand married my father not long after. Her English is brilliant – she hardly has\nan accent, though it comes through now and then when she's excited, and\nsometimes she puts it on for effect. (That's part of her allure, they say. It's\nwhat gives her that exotic quality.)

Fact 4: She divorced my father five years ago.\nShe kept the house in West London and the Bentley and a lot of cash in the\nbank. I don't know all the details – and they're not relevant here anyway – but\nhe slipped up somehow and he paid for it.

I think they're still friendly. Dad's loaded,\nso I doubt if he misses the money or the house. And my mother? Well, I don't\nknow. I've never really been able to tell what she's thinking or how she feels.\nShe looks happy, anyway. There was no big trauma as far as I can see.

OK. Now me. First, I have nothing to do with\nthe fashion industry, beyond the fact that I was brought up in a house with\nfashion people always passing through, and with huge fashion pictures, mostly\nof Chloe, mounted on every wall. I think that did have an affect on me,\nactually – but I'll come to that later.

It isn't completely true to say I was brought\nup in that house, though. From the age of eleven I was sent away to private\nschools – first to a Prep School, and then, when I was thirteen, to a Public\nSchool. (If you aren't familiar with the arcane British education system,\n'Public' School means 'private' and expensive. Sorry if that's confusing. I\nknow it's weird.)

When I say 'sent away', I mean I went to\nboarding schools – both of them a long way from home. So I only saw my parents\nin the holidays, or when they came to school for the occasional visit. And that\naffected me, of course. It meant I grew up independent – which was the point of\nthe exercise, I suppose – and I felt rather detached from my parents.

It's difficult to explain, and it's probably\nhard for people who weren't sent away at a young age to understand, but in some\nways my mother and father were more like colleagues than parents. Though that\nisn't quite right, either. They were kind and supportive and they looked after\nme and advised me about my life and so on – they did all the important parent\nthings – but they had their own lives to lead as well. I certainly wasn't the\ncentre of their world. I was just somebody who happened to be part of the\nfamily – like a cousin or a nephew, perhaps. I don't know – does any of that\nmake sense? Anyway, there was always a certain distance between my mother and\nme from the time I was very young – and perhaps that's why she wanted me to\ncall her 'Chloe' instead of 'Mum'. And that's another central fact.

Let's fast forward. The last thing you need to\nknow is that I studied geology at university and after I left I became a well-site\ngeologist. That meant I got to travel all round the world, expenses paid, on\ncontract. But, as a result of my itinerant life-style, I never quite got round\nto finding a home of my own – so, at the advanced age of twenty-six, I was\nstill based at my mother's house. I wasn't there very much, you understand – I\nspent months and months abroad at drilling sites and on offshore exploration\nrigs – but , when I came back to Britain, I went 'home' to my large and rather\ncomfortable room at Chloe's place.

Oh, and my name's Jonathon. You might want to\nknow that, too. But that, I think, is all you need in the way of background.

\n\n\n\n

Alright. The thing I want to tell you about –\nif I can manage it – happened two years ago. I'd been away for a long time, in\nChina, and I'd been getting pretty fed up, so when I got the opportunity to\ncome back to Britain for a quick visit, I jumped at it. I phoned my mother, of\ncourse, but she didn't answer, so I texted her instead, saying when I'd be\nhome.

I got to the house around nine in the evening.\nThere were lights on, and I let myself in and called out to say I was back, but\nnobody answered. So I took my bag upstairs and dropped it off in my room, then\nwent straight downstairs again to look for Chloe.

She wasn't in any of the rooms at the front of\nthe house, but we have a room we call the \"back parlour\", and I\nthought she might be in there. I made my way through to the back (as I said\nearlier, it's a big place) and, sure enough, the parlour door was open a little\nway and I could see there was a light on. So I said 'Hello', and went straight\nin.

And I got the biggest shock of my life. The\nback parlour isn't very big, but it's large enough to have two settees in it.\nOne is end-on to the door as you go in; the other one is against the wall to\nthe right. When I went in, I saw two people, neither of whom I knew. One – a\nyoungish, dark-haired woman – was perched on the edge of the settee directly\nahead of me. The other, a man, also fairly young, was standing in front of her,\nvery close. The man's penis was in the woman's mouth.

I froze. They were both staring at me –\nbecause, I guess, they'd heard me speak before I came in – but they obviously\nhadn't had time to get his cock out of her mouth. I remember the woman looking\nat me with wide, startled eyes – and with an odd bulge in her cheek where the\nman's cock-end was nestling.

My first instinct was to apologize – and I'd\nactually opened my mouth to say sorry when I heard a sort of gasp to my right.\nSo I looked round. I saw my mother, sprawled on the other settee, with her legs\nwide apart and her light grey dress pulled up. She was masturbating hard – her\nwhole hand moving on her exposed pussy. I noticed her panties lying beside her\nin a pale little crumpled heap. Somehow that detail – the fact that she'd\ndeliberately taken them off to masturbate while these two strangers were in the\nroom, made the scene all the more shocking. I was stunned. And the word 'sorry'\ndidn't make it past my lips. I just stared at her. I couldn't move or speak.

And my mother stared back at me, wide-eyed,\nwith her hand still there between her legs, but frozen now.

It probably didn't last very long, but that\nmoment felt like an eternity. Then my mother took her hand out from between her\nthighs and flipped her dress down over them. At about the same instant, I heard\nthe other two moving. When I looked back at them, the man had turned his back\non me and was hurriedly zipping up his flies – and the woman had sat back a\nlittle, with her hand covering her mouth.

Still nobody spoke. I wanted to. I tried to,\nbut nothing came out. So I just turned on my heel and walked right out of the\nroom again. I went back through the house to the front door, and straight out\ninto the night.

I didn't decide to do that – to leave.\nMy feet just sort of walked me out by themselves. My conscious mind had nothing\nto do with it. I don't think it was even functioning at that point.

I was half way down the street before I heard\nmy mother calling. I stopped and looked round. She just stood there, under a street\nlamp. I could see her feet were bare. As I looked at her, her shoulders\nslumped. She was probably close to tears. I felt sorry for her – really sorry –\nbut I couldn't do anything. So I turned round again and went on. She didn't\nfollow me.

I walked to the tube station and got a train\nto the West End. Then I went to one of the hotels in the Strand and took a\nroom. I'd come out with nothing except my credit cards, so I had to buy a\ntoothbrush from the concierge. When I got to the room, I took a miniature of\nscotch from the mini-bar and drank it straight off, in one gulp. Then I had\nanother one. I sat on the edge of the bed for hours, just thinking and\ndrinking. I'd practically emptied the fridge by the time I went to sleep.

\n\n\n\n

You may be feeling puzzled about some of that.\nI mean, yes, of course it's a shock to walk in on one's mother while she's\nwatching an act of fellatio and masturbating herself, but what they were doing\nwasn't illegal, was it? So, you may be asking, why didn't I just back out and\nclose the door politely, and then enjoy the red faces when the three of them\nemerged a bit later? After all, we were all grown-ups. We could have had a good\nlaugh about it when the blushing stopped.

But there's quite a lot I haven't told you.\nI'll do it now.

You see, growing up with a famously beautiful\nmother has an effect. And let's not forget the sex. My mother had always been\nbreathtakingly sexy and I'd always known it. And so had everybody else. When\npeople found out who I was – whose son I was, that is – something always\nchanged. There was a kind of awe about them in the way they treated me – in the\nway they looked at me.

And sometimes there was more than just awe. I\nremember my first term at university, after the news got out. There was a\nSaturday night in the Union bar, for example, when a bunch of drunken rugby\nplayers decided to sing loud choruses about my mother's attributes and supposed\nsexual tastes, knowing full well I was there. I just had to grin and bear it\nwhile they detailed exactly what they'd like to do to Chloe. (As a team,\nyou understand – to do things as a team. They had a joint pornographic\nfantasy about my mother for an hour – and all in my hearing.)

It was my own fault, too. I could have kept\nquiet about my mother's identity, but I'd advertised it almost from the first\nday I arrived at the place. Why? Because of girls, of course. I'd discovered\nlong ago that women are fascinated by the fashion industry, and telling them I\nwas Chloe's son was an almost sure-fire way to get them into bed. (Well, some\nof them, anyway. Well, quite a lot of them, in fact.) I used my mother's\ncelebrity, and her incredible sexiness, to get sex for myself. So the price I\npaid, of course, was male jealousy and drunken, obscene comments in the bar.\nBut it seemed like a reasonable bargain at the time, and – here comes a\nconfession – I was perversely proud that my mother provoked all those dirty\nideas.

There, I've said it! I wasn't really\nembarrassed when I overheard blokes saying what they'd like to do to Chloe. I\nenjoyed it. I smiled quietly. I took pleasure in it.

So, as I expect you can tell, the story gets\ncomplicated. And that's why it's going to be so hard to explain what happened\nnext.

\n\n\n\n

Something else happened while I was at university\n– something so bad that I shocked myself.

I'd been out one night, drinking, and I came\nhome pretty drunk. I was alone. I hadn't scored that night and I felt randy, in\nthat drunken, don't-give-a-damn way you probably recognize in yourself from\ntime to time. So I booted my computer up and, like solitary drunks the whole\nworld over, I started surfing for porn.

Except the porn didn't really do it for me. I\ntried for a while, searching for the perfect picture, but none of the women I\nlooked at measured up. Measured up to what? To my obscure desire. There was\nsomething lurking underneath the drunkenness – some sort of need – and I\ncouldn't find the thing to satisfy it. I must have spent an hour opening and\nclosing windows – flitting between sites, getting more and more frustrated. And\nthen I googled 'Chloe'. Without thinking. Just like that. And there she was, in\na whole array of pictures. Thousands of them. My mother posing for the world –\nsometimes subtly, sometimes raunchy. My mother looking back at me, out of the\nscreen, giving me the look that turned the whole world on.

And I did what thousands, maybe millions, had\ndone before me. I unzipped my pants and got my cock out.

I wanked off to my mother!

\n\n\n\n

I don't remember what happened after that, but\nI must have gone to sleep. I woke up the next day with a horrible hang-over and\na sense of guilt that got stronger as the hang-over wore off. I couldn't forget\nthe fact that I'd been masturbating to pictures of my mother. The memory stayed\nwith me. It haunted me.

And the guilt never really stopped. I never\nmasturbated to her again – in fact, I avoided looking at her pictures as much\nas I could. But the urge was always there. Until the night I walked in on her\nand her friends having their little sex party, I'd been keeping myself on a\ntight rein, deliberately suppressing my filthy fantasies about her. But now,\nsuddenly, I'd discovered that Chloe really was as dirty as I'd always pretended\nshe was – pretended, of course, without really believing it.

But now I did. Now I knew. And it turned my\nwhole world upside-down.

\n\n\n\n

So maybe you can understand how mixed up I\nfelt – how really jumbled up I was emotionally – after I'd walked in on my\nmother and her friends that night. Because seeing her there, masturbating, with\nher little panties by her side, watching the other woman sucking the man's\nstiff dick, had been exciting. Incredibly exciting! It had given me a terrific\njolt – a huge sex shock deep in the guts.

And, at exactly the same moment, I'd felt an\nenormous surge of shame. I hadn't run away because I was angry with my mother,\nor even because I disapproved of what I'd caught her doing. I'd run away\nbecause I couldn't deal with my own guilt. To talk to her that night, after I'd\nseen what I'd seen, would have been a total humiliation. I think I'd have\nmelted if I'd had to look her in the eye.

The next morning I woke up in the hotel with a\nhang-over which didn't clear 'til lunchtime. I mooched around London all day,\nthen I called Chloe from a phone box at about six that evening. (I'd left my\nmobile at home, of course, so she hadn't been able to phone me. I think she'd\nbeen trying all day.)

We didn't talk much. I said I'd be home soon\nand Chloe said she'd be in, and that was that.

We didn't say much when I got there, either. She\nmet me at the door and put her arms round me and kissed me on the cheek. And we\nstood like that for a long time. And then, when she'd finally let go of me, she\nsaid she'd make dinner. And I went to my room for a while, to wait.

I don't want to go on and on about what we\nsaid to each other that evening. There was a lot of tension between us – that\nmust be obvious – and it was difficult for us to talk about the previous night.\nIt was for me, anyway. But eventually my mother raised the subject. She\nsaid – in that slightly stilted way of speaking she has when she's being\nserious:

'You have to understand, Jonathon, that I have\nsexual needs. I'm a sexual person. I have an active sex life and it isn't\nconventional.'

And that opened the floodgates for me.

We'd been drinking quite a lot through the\nevening and I suddenly felt the urge to make things absolutely clear to her. So\nI told her what I've just told you – that I hadn't been judging her when I ran\nout on her, but I hadn't been able to deal with the fact that I'd been so\nturned on by seeing her like that. And I remember my mother put her head on one\nside at that point and listened very carefully. She looked so expectant, in\nfact, that I had to go on and explain everything. So I told her exactly how I felt.\nI told her about my dirty thoughts, and I told her about my guilt, and\neventually (though it was hard) I confessed about the time I'd masturbated to\nher pictures. And then ...

And then she smiled.

I know what you think happened next. You think\nshe came over and kissed me, and took my cock out, and sucked it a bit, maybe,\nand then I fucked her. And then we both lived happily ever after in an\nincestuous mother-son ménage. But none of that happened. The most I can say is\nthat there was a shift in our relationship. Because, although I'd been\nterrified that I'd shock her with my confession, my mother wasn't upset at all.\nShe seemed quietly intrigued – intrigued and satisfied.

I don't remember everything about the rest of\nthat evening, but some things she said stuck fast in my memory. One was:

'Somebody told me once that doing catwalk\nmodelling is like doing striptease with your clothes on. And she was right.\nThat's the way it feels, and that's why I like it.'

And another one was this:

'You have to understand, Jonathon, that\nfashion people – people like me – need to be looked at. We need those stares.\nAnd the staring is always about sex. Because when someone says a model is\nbeautiful, they really mean she's sexy, don't they? And I hope you think I'm\nbeautiful, so you must think I'm sexy as well. You can't separate them, can\nyou? Nor can I. Nobody can.'

And something else: 'I'm happy you found me\nlike that last night. I'm happy you saw me. It is ... kinky and exciting, isn't\nit?'

And finally: 'To masturbate to a woman's\npicture is a compliment, isn't it? Don't you think so, darling?'

That last one rocked me. I thought about\neverything she'd said afterwards, about how she really needed those sexual\nstares and how she was excited that I'd caught her. And I thought about what\nwanking meant to her – about the compliment thing. It was as if I'd finally\nseen right through her pictures, to the real Chloe. I understood how fashion\nand posing and sex were all the same to her. And how I was part of that as well.

But that, for a while, was all I could allow\nmyself to take in.

\n\n\n\n

What happened next? Well, as I said, I was\nonly in London on a flying visit, so I left after a few days. I stayed at home\nmost of the time I was there, but my mother and I didn't talk about sex again.\nI did, however, load up my laptop with pictures of her before I left. I'd\nabandoned my self-imposed prohibition against looking at her. After all, if\nChloe didn't mind me looking – if she positively encouraged it – why should I\nstop myself?

I went back to China for another spell. Then I\nwent on to a long job in the Philippines. I did a lot of screwing around in\nboth places. My mother had really lit my fuse. I had a sex explosion all over\nthe Far East.

I didn't go home again for about a year. When\nI did, I made a point of e-mailing my mother well in advance, saying exactly\nwhen I expected to be there. She replied almost immediately. I've still got the\nmessage. Here's what she said:

\"Hello, darling,

It's lovely to hear you're coming home. But I must\nwarn you I'm going to have a special party the weekend you arrive. About thirty\npeople. And 'special' means sex, darling. You probably guessed, didn't you?\nThat doesn't mean you won't be welcome. I'd love to have you there. But it's up\nto you. Think about it.

Love,

Chloe xxx\"

As you can probably guess, I thought about it\na lot. And I was really torn. Part of me was desperate to be at that party, but\nthe other part was repelled by the thought. The whole thing was so decadent –\nto go to my own mother's sex party! But it was delicious as well – deliciously\nwicked, in fact.

In the end, I put the decision off. I flew\nhome and decided to wait until the day of the party to make up my mind.

\n\n\n\n

When I got there, Chloe was obviously on a\nhigh. Her beautiful face glowed as she let me in and she couldn't stop talking\nabout the party. She'd already cleared most of the furniture out of the big\nreception room we have at the front of the house. She'd scattered huge red\ncushions and rugs all over the thick carpet we have in there, and she'd made a\nsort of plinth in the middle of the room, composed of two big mattresses, one\nlaid on top of the other. She'd swathed the walls with rich hangings and shawls\nwith lots of gold and red and yellow in them, and there were big ceramic bowls\nof condoms and piles of fluffy towels scattered about strategically. The room\nlooked like my idea of an old-fashioned Turkish brothel. It gave me a hard-on\njust to look at it, even when it was completely empty.

My mother didn't actually ask if I was staying\nfor the party. She just carried on as if I was. And I was finding it\nincreasingly difficult to turn down the invitation. That deliciously wicked\nexcitement I'd felt when I first read her e-mail was an almost physical taste\nin my mouth. It was a thickening at the base of my throat. It was a\nconstriction in my chest. It was a dark, low pulse, beating through my cock and\nballs.

I understood how turned on Chloe was by the\nthought of me, her son, watching her have sex in public. And the fact that it\nexcited her excited me. It was like a feedback loop of arousal: her excitement\nfed my excitement fed her excitement, and so on. As she'd said, it was very,\nvery kinky. I'd be a licensed voyeur at my own mother's orgy and she'd be\nputting on a sex show especially for me.

But there was a powerful objection to the idea\nas well, and, after dinner that night, I mentioned it.

'What if somebody recognises me there tomorrow\nnight?' I asked her. 'I mean, that wouldn't be good, would it?'

But she'd thought of that already. 'Darling,'\nshe said, 'There'll only be one person there who's seen you before. That's\nPaula, the girl you saw sucking Eric's cock that night. Eric won't be there –\nhe's on a shoot abroad. And we can trust Paula. She won't tell anyone, I\npromise. I already told her I invited you. She loves it! She says it's sexy.'

I still wasn't completely convinced though.\n'But who will people think I am?' I asked her. She had an answer for that, too.

'Well, Jonathon,' she said carefully. 'I do\nhave guests here from time to time. You know, young male guests. And some of\nthem stay for weeks and weeks. Everybody knows I have younger lovers sometimes.\nWe can pretend you're one of my pretty boys. I've already chosen a name for\nyou. We can call you Boris.'

So that's how I became Boris for one night.

She didn't stop at renaming me, though. The\nfollowing morning, over breakfast, she asked what I was planning to wear to the\nparty. I hadn't thought about it much so I shrugged and indicated the clothes I\nhad on – jeans and a tee-shirt. 'Just these,' I said, 'though I might put some\nclean ones on.'

Chloe shrieked with laughter. 'You can't!' she\nsaid. 'You can't go like that!'

I was about to say that I didn't have anything\nelse, but she rushed out of the room. When she came back, she had a bundle of\nclothes in her arms. 'Go and try these on,' she said. 'Then come back and show\nme how they fit.'

So I went upstairs to change. I have to say,\nthey weren't my style at all. She'd given me a pair of tight black leather\ntrousers and a little brown waistcoat, also made of leather. I struggled into\nboth and went downstairs to show her – and she shrieked with laughter again.

'You're supposed to take your tee-shirt off,'\nshe said. 'You must be bare-chested under the waistcoat. And are you wearing\nunderpants?'

I admitted I was.

'Go back and take them off,' she told me. 'The\ntrousers are tight for a reason. Underpants are not it.'

So I dragged myself back upstairs and changed\nagain. When I came down, my cock and balls were bulging obscenely through the\nthin, skin-tight leather of the trousers, and my chest was bare, as instructed.\nMy mother licked her lips.

'That is so much better,' she said. 'Now you\nlook ready for the party.'

And, amazingly, she reached towards me and\ngrabbed my bulge. I stepped back in shock, but she came forward playfully, and\ngot hold of me down there, actually cupping my scrotum.

'That is what all the women will want to do\nwhen they see you tonight, Jonathon,' she said. 'And most of them will do it.\nYou must get used to that.'

Then she let go of me and laughed merrily. I\ndon't remember what I did then, but I know I was blushing. In fact, I was so\nembarrassed I went and hid in my room for most of the rest of the day. I didn't\ngo downstairs until I heard the party starting.

\n\n\n\n

Actually, I nearly didn't go down at all. But\nin the end my curiosity – and, I admit, the sheer perversity of the situation –\ngot the better of me. So I went downstairs and sidled in through the door of\nthe party room, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

It really was a decadent scene. My mother had\nrigged up red lights – of course the lights were red; what else would you\nexpect? – and she'd pulled the heavy velvet curtains closed. And there was a\nsort of hush in the room. I don't mean silence. People were chatting quietly,\nbut with a suppressed and palpable excitement – as if they knew something\nmajor, something really intense, was about to happen. And of course they were\nright.

The other thing that struck me straight away\nwas that most of the people there were beautiful. I use that word advisedly.\nThey weren't just attractive or good-looking. They were truly beautiful – both\nthe women and the men. I think I'm reasonably good-looking myself, and I keep\nmyself pretty fit – but I felt I stood out like a sore thumb in that company. I\nwas like an ugly duckling on a river full of swans. In fact, I felt so\nuncomfortable that I slid over to the far corner and backed into it, trying not\nto attract attention.

Which was a complete waste of time, because as\nsoon as I settled there, Paula, the dark-haired woman I'd seen sucking the\nman's cock that night, floated up to me. And the first thing she did, by way of\ngreeting, was exactly what my mother had predicted. She slid a hand between my\nlegs and began to stroke my balls through the leather trousers.

I tried to be cool and Paula smiled. 'It's\ngood to see you here ... er ... Boris,' she said. 'Your m-, I mean Chloe, was a\nlittle afraid you might not come.'

And all the time she said this, her hand was\nstroking my balls, and making forays higher up, to trace the outline of my cock\nwith her fingernails. I stopped being cool pretty quickly and Paula let me go\nwith a laugh – just in time probably, because I was in of danger of cumming\ninside those trousers. She stepped back and looked me up and down.

'Is this your first orgy?' she asked bluntly.\nI had to admit it was.

'Good,' she said, with a breathy laugh. 'It's\nsooo nice to have a virgin here.' And she turned away with a delicious flirt of\nher arse. I wondered if I'd be within my rights to grab her and throw her down\non the floor and fuck her then and there, but I didn't know the etiquette for\nparties like this – and nobody else seemed to be screwing yet, though there was\na fair amount of fondling going on. I looked round for my mother – was I really\ngoing to ask her if it would be OK if I screwed Paula right away? I don't know.\nMaybe. But anyway, Chloe wasn't around. In fact, I got the impression everyone\nwas waiting for her to make her entrance before the proceedings really got\nstarted. So I went and got myself a drink instead, and then I just stood there,\ntaking in the view.

As I said earlier, they were beautiful. And\nthere were a surprising number of women there. I suppose I'd expected it to be\na mainly male gathering – just a bunch of blokes all there to fuck my mother –\nbut I was wrong. About half the group were women and it seemed to me that a lot\nof them were models of some kind. They had that special something models have –\na look, an attitude. I don't know what it is exactly, but they had it. They\nwere people who accepted admiring glances as if they were their right. They\nbasked in the attention. As I stood there, frankly staring at them one by one,\nI knew they felt my gaze on them. They were like sleek and pampered cats. Their\neyes narrowed and they almost purred with satisfaction as I looked at them.

I was grateful to my mother for insisting on\nthe clothes I was wearing. I really would have felt out of place in my jeans\nand tee-shirt. All of these people were wearing expensive, gorgeous costumes.\nThere were some really sumptuous fabrics – and a lot of leather as well, and\nPVC and rubber, as you'd probably expect. And some of the women were wearing\nsuch ridiculous spike heels that I was sure they'd never be able to walk more\nthan a few yards in them. A few of the men had already stripped down to posing\npouches, and several of the women were in corsets. There was a definite whiff\nof fetish about the place.

One of the women stood up and sauntered over\nto me. She had long dark hair with a slight curl in it. Her mouth was very full\nand red – like a plump, bruised plum, I thought – and her eyes were heavily\nmade up – also, I thought, like bruises. She was wearing a rich purple sweater\nwith a high roll neck that covered her throat but, below that, she wore only\nlittle panties – black with a sort of sheen to them, and very tight across her\npubis. She stopped a couple of feet from me and put her hands on her hips,\ninspecting.

'I haven't seen you here before,' she said. It\nwas like a challenge. Then: 'You don't look like one of Chloe's regular guys.\nAre you good at fucking?'

She had some kind of foreign accent – German\nmaybe, or perhaps something from further east. I was out of my depth and I'm\nnot good at witty replies, so I just said: 'Wait and see.' She smiled then and\nturned, and slapped the full curve of her arse hard with the flat of her hand.

\n'Perhaps I will,' she said, and she flashed me a smile over her shoulder as she\nleft me.

Just then my mother walked in. Well, to be\nprecise, she appeared in the doorway and paused until she had everyone's\nattention – which happened very quickly, because she looked stunning. There\nwere excited oohs and aahs, and at least one Bravo!

She was wearing white – a short, pure white\ndress in some flimsy material that fell to somewhere around the middle of her\nthighs. The dress had only one shoulder strap. One breast was covered; the\nother was bare. (I was amazed at how firm and perfect that naked breast was.)

When she had everyone's attention, my mother\ndid a twirl. The flounced skirt of the dress whirled up, and we got a cheeky\nglimpse of her bare bum. Then she advanced into the room, doing the model walk\n– placing one brisk foot directly in front of the other to make the dress hem\nswing. And as she walked, her face went blank – just like a catwalk model's, or\na stripper's.

When she reached the middle of the room, she\nstopped in front of the piled up mattresses. And she looked round, taking in\nall the faces. When her eyes found mine, she beamed – a great big happy grin.\nThen she reached behind her to unzip herself, and her dress slid down her body\nto her feet.

She stepped out of it precisely and\ndelicately. She was naked, except for her high heels and her jewellery. (There\nwas a gold bangle on her forearm, and a black choker round her throat with a\ngreen stone set in it.) Her body was amazing. I have no idea how she'd\npreserved her figure, but she was perfect. I took in every subtle curve, 'til\nmy eyes reached her pussy. And that was entrancing – a thin, neat split, naked\nlike the rest of her, with, above it, just a little tuft of light brown hair.

Chloe stood there a long time, revelling in\nour stares. Then she reached down and ran her fingers lightly over her peach,\nher slit.

'Good evenink, darlinks,' she said, laying the\nHungarian accent on thick. 'I hop you're feelink fery horny.'

Then, in her normal voice: 'Paula? Have you\ngot the hat, please?'

And Paula stepped forward, holding a top hat\nout in front of her. They'd obviously discussed what they were going to do in\nadvance.

'I need five men,' said my mother to the room\nat large. 'Paula has pencils and paper. When she comes, please write your name\non a piece of paper, and put it in the hat.

'Just the men,' she added with a wink. 'The\ngirls can have me later.'

Paula came round to each of us in turn, and\neach man wrote his name on the scrap of paper she gave him, then dropped it\nhopefully into the hat.

Everyone, that is, except me. When Paula\nreached me I shook my head. She made a little moue. 'Pretty please?' she asked,\nfluttering her eyelashes. But I murmured 'No'. What was she thinking of? I was\nkinky enough to want to watch my mother getting gang-fucked – but to join in?\nOf course not! I wasn't that far gone!

When she'd collected all the names, Paula took\nthe hat back to Chloe, and they made a big production out of drawing the first\nname out. My mother put her hand in and rummaged round, then pulled a slip of\npaper out with a flourish. She read it. 'Jason', she said.

And Jason – a tall blond boy, with the\nchiselled features of a male model – came forward. He'd stripped off already,\nin anticipation. My mother knelt on the mattresses and took his already stiff\ncock in her hand, then brought her lips to the head and began to suck him. It\nwas all so casual but – to me, in my innocence – so shocking that I didn't know\nwhether to watch or turn away. But then my mother looked up, with the cock\nstill in her mouth, and caught my eye. She wanted me to see her like this!\nFeeling my eyes on her excited her!

Abruptly, I got a mental image of her pussy,\nof her cunt, all wet and glistening from this extreme excitement. And I got a\nsudden thrill myself, from deep behind my balls right up my cock: a sharp, hard\npulse of spunk and blood!

I watched until she released him from her\nmouth, and then he returned the favour – sprawling on the mattresses with his\nhead between my mother's thighs. I saw her face screw up: I saw her ecstasy.

And then he fucked her. First my mother rolled\na condom onto him, then he had her on her back, with her legs drawn up and her\nankles crossed behind him. He was staring down at her, with his hands braced on\nthe mattress, and he fucked her very slowly with long, deep strokes.

Chloe panted hard and her face went red. When\nshe came she cried out and then, almost incongruously, she was laughing wildly\n– laughing and spluttering, while the boy went on fucking her 'til he came.\nWhen he'd finished he pulled out of her slowly, being careful not to lose the\ncondom, I suppose. And straight away, my mother, still on her back with her\nlegs aloft, turned her head.

'Paula, quick!' she said. 'Another one. Give\nme another name.'

Three more men had her, each in a different\nposition. One took her doggy style, and then on her side as she scissored her\nlegs around him. She straddled the next one and bore down on him hard, forcing\nthe orgasm out of him. The last one rolled her back onto her shoulders. He had\nher like that, standing and thrusting down into her from above while she\nmaintained the shoulder stand with her elbows braced against the mattress, her\nhands supporting her hips. It was sexual gymnastics of a kind I'd never have\nbelieved possible. I was so lost in it all that I hardly noticed for a second\nwhen Paula shouted 'Boris is next!'

But when I looked, I saw she was holding the\ntop hat with a scrap of paper poised above it. She looked at it carefully, as\nif she was confirming my name.

'Yes, it's definitely Boris,' she told my\nmother loudly. 'I wonder why he's looking so bashful?'

Chloe laughed merrily, the way she had that\nmorning when she'd grabbed my balls.

It was impossible, of course – since I hadn't\nput my name in the hat. But I was trapped. I must have coloured up. I know my\nface was burning. But the two of them together were like a magnet, drawing me\non. I stumbled through the crowd until I reached them. My mother knelt up on\nthe mattresses and reached for the waistband of my trousers.

Paula helped her. I was trembling and\nterminally awkward, but they stripped the trousers off me, then took the\nwaistcoat off as well. Everyone but me was laughing. And it was Paula who took\nmy prick in her mouth first, while my mother knelt back, watching and grinning\non the bed.

I might easily have cum into Paula's mouth.\nI'm amazed I didn't. And then, when Chloe leaned in and took over, with her\nsoft lips enveloping my glans, I nearly came again. I imagined my sperm pumping\ninto my mother's mouth! It was such a powerful picture, I don't know how I\nstopped myself doing it for real.

But Chloe wanted more than that. She released\nmy cock and lay back on the bed with her legs apart.

'Come here and lick me ... Boris,' she\nmurmured.

I knelt down and burrowed into her warm pink\ncunt. The heavy aroma of her sex was instantly in my nostrils; her dew was on\nmy lips. Her hips bucked under my face the instant I found her clitoris. I\nflicked the nub with my tongue to torture her – to get a kind of revenge for\nthe way she'd played with me.

I did that for a long time. All around me I\nheard the excited shouting of the crowd. They were urging me on – urging me to\npush Chloe over the edge.

When she came, her thighs clamped hard round\nmy head and her juices squirted into my mouth. She didn't let me go for a long\ntime. She just lay there, writhing, with my mouth on her open cunt.

Finally, though, she let me come up for air.\nWhen I looked into her face, I saw triumph there.

'Now fuck me,' she said. 'Fuck me hard.' And\nshe opened her legs again, to invite me in.

Paula waved a condom at us, and my mother sat\nup and took the packet. She split the foil with a thumb nail, then popped the\nrubber in between her lips. She took my cock in her mouth again, and I felt her\ntricky tongue deftly manipulating the condom onto me. Then she lay down again\nand waited for me with challenge in her eyes.

I hesitated for maybe a second, then I lay\nover her and squirmed in between her thighs. I pushed my cock end up against\nthe slick warmth of her slit and thrust it in. I buried myself in her and I\nfelt her gasp almost before I heard it.

And then I fucked my mother.

I don't know how long I lasted. Chloe was so\nlithe under me, and her cunt was so wet, so slippery, but so tightly moulded to\nmy cock, that I lost all sense of time. But I know I fucked her hard, with all\nmy reservations banished.

I remember how I came. I was staring down into\nher face – and her eyes were open all the time. When it hit me, when the spasm\nstruck, my back curved rigid and my mother stiffened too. We froze for a long\nmoment as my sperm pumped out.

And then, almost languidly, my mother put her\narms up and took my face between her hands. And she pulled me down and kissed\nme hard, almost savagely, on the lips.

'I told you I was a sexual person,' she\nwhispered. 'And you are too. You fucked me very well. You fucked me well.'

And all around us everyone applauded.

\n\n\n\n

What happened next? Well, everything. My\nmother's raffle – her five-guys-out-of-a-top-hat-fuck – had just been an\nappetizer. When that was over, the full banquet could begin.

I went back to my quiet corner for a while, to\nrecover and watch the action. There was a lot of fucking and sucking going on –\nas well as spanking and wanking, as the man says in the film. And my mother was\ninsatiable. I'd have expected her to need some recuperation time after all the\nscrewing she'd done, but she went straight into a three way session with two\nother women. She was – they all were – enthusiastic and amazing.

\nLater, I watched as three men buggered my mother in turn, with her shouting and\nshrieking and swearing on all fours on that mattress bed. And, while I was\nwatching, the woman I'd met earlier, the one in the purple jersey, crept over\nto me and took my cock into her mouth without a word.

Then, later, as I was fucking her, I looked up\nand saw my mother smiling down at me. She slapped me on the arse to urge me on,\nand I came for the second time that evening, inside the girl with the mouth\nlike a bruise and the long curled hair.

\n\n\n\n

Later, much later, when things had quietened\ndown, and only a few determined couples were still fucking gently here there,\nmy mother came over to where I was sitting on the floor and cuddled up to me.\nShe nestled her head in the crook of my shoulder and began to talk.

'You know, darling,' she said, 'I did read\nyour text that night.'

I didn't understand her for a moment, but she\nwent on: 'Remember? The night you came home, and Paula was sucking Eric's cock\nand I was masturbating?'

Light was slowly beginning to dawn. 'Ye-es,' I\nsaid, cautiously.

'Well, I read your text before,' said Chloe.\n'I knew you were coming home.'

'You knew,' I said, 'but you still ... '

'That's right,' she said. 'We still ...'

'Was Paula in on it?' I asked.

'Both of them,' she said. 'Paula and Eric. But\nI was so upset when you ran away afterwards. I hadn't expected that. I didn't\nthink it all out, I suppose. I was scared I'd lost you for such a long, long\ntime.'

I didn't speak. Chloe snuggled closer and\nclosed her eyes.

'That's why I'm so happy now,' she said. 'I'm\nso happy and relieved you're back.'

And then, I think, she fell asleep.

And so did I. We both did.

And I think that's all. I think I've told my\nstory.

\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

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