Kapitel 2072: MOM'S MISSING HEEL
Spencer Gatlin loved computers, and not just because he could watch sexy women fuck online. Computers provided a way for his curious mind to solve real problems.
By the age of sixteen, Spencer had taught himself how to defeat spear-fishing viruses, once saving his history teacher's laptop. By seventeen, he was head of his high school's computer science club. By eighteen, he was working for his dad's law firm, shielding client financial records.
That same year, he stumbled onto a small overseas hacking operation and reported it to the FBI. His college résumé was a proverbial panty dropper. It was enough to win him a scholarship to the University of Southern California, in nearby Los Angeles. While money was no issue for his family, Spencer was proud to earn his own way.
But that was his childhood. The past.
Home for the summer after his freshman year, Spencer was readjusting to life at home. Santa Ana was only an hour from campus, so the scenery was mostly the same — palm trees, hot sun, congested highways.
Many of his old high school friends were interning for the summer, but Spencer was doing freelance cybersecurity work. He had few clients, but at $60 an hour, he was doing well for a nineteen-year-old. Just as importantly, he was still free to go out at night.
In his affluent hometown, a spoiled kid was always throwing an unsupervised house party somewhere. Most of the parties were wild and drunken shitshows, and Spencer made a point of attending them once or twice a week.
In one way, the parties were better now that he had a year of college under his belt. He was more sociable, he handled his liquor better, and he was more impressive.
Living in a generation where nerdom was cool, an outgoing tech and sci-fi junkie like Spencer made friends easily. And his recent physical growth, seen in his broadened chest and modern, but maturely parted, walnut hair made him a frequent target for scantily dressed young women looking for a man to help her finish her red cup and take her somewhere alone.
But the parties were also sadder. College had broadened Spencer's worldview, matured him, and challenged him. Getting high and shitfaced at two in the morning slowly lost its appeal. As did his high school friends.
Ironically, at home was where Spencer was at his happiest. His parents were actually treating him like an adult. If he left the house, they didn't ask where was going or when he'd be back. They trusted him. They were relaxed around him. They seemed younger than they did before he left. Spencer jokingly wondered how much of a toll his "smartass" phase had taken on them.
But those were the early days of summer. The past.
*****1
In a sunlit living room, Spencer sat hunched over an ottoman as he pounded away on his laptop. Writing a client report was not his preferred way to spend a Saturday afternoon, but being a freelancer meant meeting deadlines by himself.
"Hey, Spence, how's it going?"
"Hmm?"
"How's work going? Do you have plans to go out, or are you gonna sit there all day?"
Slowly, a pair of skeptical, blue eyes nudged Spencer out of his digital trance. "Wait, what?"
"Haha! Do you have plans to go out? C'mon, I'm trying to do my job and be nosey. You're not helping."
Spencer chuckled with his mom. After being away, he realized how much of a curiosity she was. She had the crisp, blonde hair, the elegant, balletic figure, and the sculpted, triangular face of a refined daughter from money. And yet, she was one of the most disarming and down-to-earth people Spencer knew.
Maybe it was the fact she didn't care about the darker strands lurking beneath her long hair, or maybe it was her walking around the house in rumpled designer clothes and bare feet, or maybe it was her lack of interest in personal drama, but Spencer had always viewed his mom as a hippyish figure.
He had seen, at fancy dinner events, how his mom's breasts in an expensive dress led to leering men getting death stares from their wives. But it was her in casual clothes, like mom jeans and her workout tights, that made Spencer a target for his friends' teasing. In short, his mom Breanna was the exact wife you would expect a handsome and successful lawyer to find amidst a haze of pot smoke at an undergrad party at Stanford while going back to get his MBA.
"Umm..." He switched gears and remembered his mom's question. "No, not yet. I don't think I'm going out tonight. We went pretty hard last night. Zach said he's still hungover in bed, hah!"
"Oh... Maybe you should go to his house tonight and hang with him then since he's not feeling well."
Spencer was impressed with his parents for making it to July before questioning his plan; though, it was odd for his mom to be recommending plans to him. She was usually the "chill" parent, the one joking around and encouraging him not to stress about school and work. Also, her outfit was odd. She was in sporty leggings and an athletic top, dressed for the gym. On Saturday. Her job was doing PR for his dad's law firm, which meant she was often bored at home. Still, she usually relaxed on weekends.
"I guess I can text Zach. Maybe he'll wanna hang," Spencer mused, and turned back to his work.
"You 'guess' you could...?" His mom voiced. "C'mon, hun, you're nineteen. You shouldn't be spending Saturday home alone."
"I go out all the time!" Spencer popped up, defensively. If anything he had been partying too often. "And, wait, why would I be alone? Are you and dad headed somewhere?"
Breanna opened her lip and tapped on the kitchen island. "Uh, yes, we are actually. Do you remember Mr. Commons? From your dad's firm?"
"Woah! Did he die?"
"Wha- Why- No! He's not even that old!" Breanna held her cracking face. "He invited us to a cocktail party, and we're going."
"Oh. Wait... Dad actually talks to him again? And I thought he moved to Florida?"
"Eh... They talk a little," she winced. "Mr. Commons splits his time between here and Florida now, and he's here for the summer. I've been encouraging your father to play nice."
Suddenly, the other times Spencer had seen his parents getting dressed in fancy formal wear this summer made sense. He never asked them where they were going, not wanting them to start returning the favor. "Ah. That's sweet they're talking again, though. I always thought what happened was pretty stupid."
"Yeah, me too." Breanna thought for a moment. "I think they were both tired of fighting. After your dad dropped his countersuit, I think Malcolm started inviting us over as a way to extend an olive branch. I mean, sometimes I have to drag your father there for his own good, but I think he enjoys seeing him once he's there."
"They're probably just hoping for the other to do something stupid at the parties so they can sue again." His mom immediately erupted in laughter, shaking her head. He imagined the same thought had crossed her mind before.
Riding the high of nailing the punchline, Spencer returned to his work. But his mom interrupted again, "So, yeah, you should see what Zach's up to tonight. I'm sure he'd like the company."
Turning back with a huff, Spencer saw his mom taking a swig of water. A droplet fell from her metal bottle onto her boob and ran into her cleavage behind her blue compression top. Blinking, Spencer nodded at her. "Alright, I'll see what he's up to."
*****2
As the shadows in the living room grew longer, Spencer moved into the study, where he heard a knock on the door. "Hey, Spence..." It was his dad. "Your mom told me you're going to Zach's tonight?"
Why the hell is he asking now? Spencer wondered. He recognized the tone as the same dry, half-hearted one his dad used whenever speaking to him at his mom's request.
"Well, I was gonna. Then he had to go to the movies with Jen and her parents. It's fine, I don't feel like going out anyway."
"Ah. That's a bummer. Well, if that's the case, are you free to go to Fast Market to pick up some orange juice? We polished it off at breakfast, and your mom and I won't have time to get there before it closes."
"Umm..."
"It would be a big help."
He bemoaned the chore, but his parents asked very little of him. "Yeah, no problem. I'll head there later."
"Thanks. I believe they close at eight-thirty on weekends, so don't wait too long."
There's no fucking way... Spencer muttered, bringing up Fast Market's website on his laptop. There were no hours listed, and the site looked like it had last been updated in preparation for Y2K. "Dad, I'm like ninety-nine percent sure I've been there after midnight on Saturdays."
His dad lectured through the door, with his patented lawyer-dad lingo, "Pretty sure isn't sure..."
It was pointless to argue. Spencer opened the door and strode past his dad. "Thank you," he heard, making him sigh.
----
Minutes later, Spencer pulled into the parking lot of Fast Market. The first thing he did was read the hours on the door. "Eight-thirty, my ass!" With a roll of his eyes, he entered the twenty-four-seven convenience store.
Considering this was the first and only time he'd be out of the house for the day, Spencer performed his due diligence selecting the orange juice. He picked the pulp level he imagined would least likely draw a passive comment from his dad during breakfast.
"Have you seen the new one yet?"
Spencer tilted his chin at the cashier, and then realized he was excited about his shirt. "Oh! No, man, I haven't." Spencer hadn't yet seen the new season of Green Arrow, a DC Comics show. "My buddy Zach is up-to-date but I'm still a season back. I'll catch up soon, though!"
----
Humming along to R&B music, Spencer drove home under an orange and dark blue sky. As he turned onto his street, he could see his parents' tiny silhouettes in the driveway.
They appeared to be running late, and Spencer's headlights flashed against his dad just as he ducked into his sports car. The engine purred instantly, and the brake lights glowed red. His mom popped up from behind the passenger side, and she stared into his oncoming windshield like a deer in headlights.
She was wearing a tan trench coat over her dress — in the summer. And her blonde hair was tied up behind her. She never wears it like that, Spencer thought.
As he reached the driveway, his mom swung the passenger door open and stumbled. Fortunately, she landed in the car instead of on the brick. Spencer looked through his dad's window and saw that his mom was still leaning out of her open door while they backed out of the driveway.
He whipped his head around to see if she'd shut the door before it hit a stone lighting pillar. She did, just barely. Then they drove off in the opposite direction.
What the hell was that...? Did they misread the invitation? Were they supposed to show up with a dish at a certain time?
Parked in front of his house, in the again quiet dusk, Spencer's gut felt queasy. Low-acidity juice in hand, he stepped out into the warm breeze. He racked his brain for an explanation.
Deep in thought, he nearly missed the object sparkling on the patterned brick. He walked across the driveway and squatted down, and picked up the shoe.
The teenage son inspected the brown heel, rotating it in his hands. With its criss-cross, golden straps, it looked like what an ancient Roman gladiator would wear on a fashion runway. It was a mesh between a step-in sandal and a designer heel.
While it explained his mom's stumble, it didn't explain why she didn't just tell his dad to stop the damn car. How late can you be where you'd rather show up in one high heel?
This was no coincidence. All of his parents' odd behavior had to be related... somehow. They had rushed out of the driveway to avoid talking to him, and Spencer had a nagging suspicion that his mom was behind it.
The thought of being left in the dark hurt worse after the trust his parents had shown him this summer.
"Hmm..." Every instinct and fiber of his nature told him to investigate. Spencer chewed his pink lip as he stared at his car. "Fuck it."
He jumped back into his silver sedan, threw the OJ and strappy heel into the passenger seat, and buckled up. He quickly found three addresses for a Malcolm Commons in the county. For all knew, his mom had lied about where they were going, but this was all he had.
"That's not too bad. An hour at most." He tapped on the first address and it opened in his GPS. Then he was off.
----
The first house was the most isolated and took twenty-five minutes to reach. Like most homes in the area, it was large, prominent, and had a terracotta roof. An old woman was listening to a radio on the porch. It was not the right Commons residence.
The failure only motivated Spencer more. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and his toes wiggled in his sneakers. He stepped on the accelerator.
The final two homes were within blocks of each other. He glanced at the gold and bronze heel in the passenger seat, trying to picture his mom wearing it. But it didn't fit.
Down another dark, quiet, lamp-lit street, Spencer cruised with his head on a swivel. He squinted through his rolled-down windows as the sweet aroma of gardens and manicured grass were carried by the salty breeze.
When his GPS announced he had arrived at his destination, Spencer was let down again, this time by a For Sale sign in front of a lifeless house. Doubt started to creep in.
His mom had bent the truth before, but always for an innocent reason. She did it to surprise him or to spare his feelings, but always with remarkable ease. The only way Spencer may ever know if she was lying tonight was to see it for himself.
He followed the route to the final address. And as he turned down into the cul-de-sac, he was greeted by a line of parked cars on each side of the street. Five stately homes were spaced evenly down the long inlet, with only the one at the end emitting light from all of its windows.
Having been dragged to soirées before when he was little, Spencer recognized his mom had told the truth. Still, his pulse quickened. The nagging voice in the back of his head was still unsatisfied. Why was his mom so off today?
Spencer parallel parked at the back of a line, and he estimated there were twenty cars between him and the house. Quietly, he opened his door and put his sneakers on the asphalt. There was nothing illegal about walking down the street, but he could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he crept behind the cover of the parked cars.
"There it is," he mumbled. Across the street, he spotted his dad's unmistakable pearl-white sports car.
On the day Spencer had accepted his scholarship offer to USC, his dad glowed with pride and announced that he was going to use some of his college savings to buy his dream car. Spencer never forgot watching his dad buy the Porsche 911, only to then put on a clever "dad look" and drive him to the Chevy dealership to buy him a new sedan.
It was one of those life lessons Spencer didn't fully understand yet.
After scurrying across the road, Spencer cupped his hands above his eyes and peered inside the car. As always, it was religiously clean. In the footwell of the passenger seat, however, there was one strappy, golden heel.
Why does she have these?
The young son didn't need to be an expert in women's fashion to realize they were cheaply made. And they were an odd pairing for a cocktail dress.
Flicking his eyes at the dead-end, and the illuminated driveway branching off of it, Spencer realized he couldn't simply walk up the Spanish Colonial estate and ring the doorbell. Mr. Commons certainly had security cameras and... Wait... What's my plan here? Think.
Walking to the edge of the large property, Spencer eyed the front windows. They were all yellow, but the curtains were closed, which was to be expected at night. The breeze seemed to carry voices from the rear of the house, but it was difficult to tell.
Suddenly, Spencer realized he was moving toward the side yard, aiming for the tall shrubbery lining the perimeter. A gravitational pull sucked him into the yard, and his legs no longer felt like his. He had rarely broken the rules as a child, but when he did, this was always how it felt.
He was smart enough to tug his t-shirt over his nose and ears to conceal his identity. Deeper he ventured into the property along the hedges. Across the side yard, there was a pair of tall, thin windows that arched at the top. Neither had blinds or curtains. And dark silhouettes passed through them briefly.
After scanning the yard, Spencer dashed across the green expanse until his back hit the white stucco and his ass was on the grass. He sucked wind and tried to calm his heart rate. If anyone had seen him, they would have surely called the police.
As his nerves settled, he began to feel steady vibrations against his back. He began to hear music, the same music he listened to at house parties. Carefully, he rose to a squat and peeked inside.
"What the fuck?"
It was a cocktail party, but not one where rich people pretended to taste the difference between fine alcohols under the spell of classical symphonies.
Every adult was costumed. Many were in the same costumes they likely wore to take their children trick-or-treating. Others were in more fun costumes, no different than the ones Spencer saw on campus at Halloween parties.
In the vast living room, Spencer spotted a Mickey and Minnie Mouse chatting with a Pharaoh and an Egyptian Goddess. Another couple in matching costumes was sitting on the couch, where a man dressed as Fred Flintstone was strumming a guitar over the music. The more Spencer watched, the funnier it became. Here were adults, all at least in their thirties, behaving just like Spencer and his college friends did at their parties.
But unlike at Spencer's parties, a few of the well-to-do women in attendance were bonafide MILFs.
From what he could tell, there was more movement in the next room over. The crowd seemed larger and louder. So, Spencer dropped out of view and crawled against the house to the other window. He could already feel the stronger bass and hear the words of a pop song.
The darker window meant he would be harder to see, and it gave him the confidence to look inside. His eyes went wide.
It might as well have been a college party. There was twirling, flirting, bumping, and grinding in a sea of colorful strobe lights. The rhythmic music came from an unattended DJ booth, which was just a classic iPod sitting on a table next to big speakers.
An escaped convict was twirling around a cop. Two pirates were snickering and taking sips of the other's drink. The Simpsons, a chubby Homer with a blue-wigged Marge, were swaying with their chests and heads affectionately together. A Black Widow ran her leather butt down an Incredible Hulk's crotch.
Spencer's cock swelled into the solid stucco. He felt the pressure as he watched the few couples making a sexy scene. But, admittedly, he was simply relieved. It wasn't a swingers' party.
There were a handful of slutty costumes and hot dances, but nothing over the top. It was just a function for couples and parents who wanted a night out of the house for some silly fun and to socialize.
His mom's cheap heel now made sense. Spencer studied the gold and bronze sandal in his fingers and then remembered why he was there.
Dude, they're definitely in there. What are they wearing though? he wondered.
Questions arose about whether he owed his parents their privacy. This appeared to be a getaway for them, and he was intruding. He also recognized the possibility of his mom being in a more adult costume... and Spencer preferred not to run the risk of being scarred for life. But, naturally, he was curious.
For a long time, Spencer observed the dark room and its people. The Commonses had a huge house, and his parents could be anywhere inside. While he waited, Spencer reflected on his mom's earlier behavior. Nothing about the party justified it.
Maybe she's like you... If the family knows your plans, the party becomes less fun? You lose that special feeling, Spencer thought.
In an instant, the teenager was on his stomach. He clutched the short grass, heaving loudly into the night. He had seen them, their familiar faces. They were there.
Turning his eyes to the dimly lit street, Spencer stared before deciding to ease into a crouch. Slowly, he brought his brown eyes over the low window frame, and they promptly sunk into black saucers.
Straight ahead of him, his mom and dad danced under the colorful lights. His dad had on a white shirt and black vest. Given his love of Star Wars, his Han Solo costume was no surprise. What made the saliva disappear from Spencer's tongue and lips was the "Slave" Leia dancing around him.
His mother was wearing one of the sluttiest costumes there. It was the uniform Princess Leia was forced to wear when she was enslaved as an erotic dancing girl. But Spencer doubted she knew that. He barely knew Star Wars. He could barely think straight.
Around her chest was an olive bikini top, which was decorated with bronze "armor." Around her exposed hips, a thin chain connected her small, front and rear belt plates. From each plate, a maroon veil hung to her ankles. As in the movie, her blonde hair was tied in a thick braid. But unlike in the movie, she was in her bare feet.
The son gawked, forcing saliva through his tight throat. He watched as her long, athletic legs moved freely, as her creamy side boob swayed with her grooving shoulders, and as her butt pushed into the thin, maroon fabric. Spencer didn't know if the costume was too small or if his mom had meant to look this incredible.
Suddenly, his temples were swelling, his skin was hot and slick, his ankles shook beneath him, and the stucco wall pressed into his cock. The few times Spencer had masturbated to his mom, he chalked up to drunkenness. He was sober now, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
Spencer was done pretending. There was no doubt anymore: He wanted his mom. He wanted her for the gorgeous human she was. He wanted to touch every inch of her body and every fiber of her being, and for her to do the same to him. In the simplest terms, he wanted to fuck his mom every day until he died.
----
Minutes passed, and Spencer found himself looking at his dad and wondering if he knew he was the luckiest man on Earth.
As space opened around, Spencer realized he wasn't the only man captivated by the blonde Leia twirling around a gray-haired Han Solo's hand. A firefighter, a lion, a wizard, and more took their opportunities to crane their necks, much to the ire of their wives and girlfriends. And judging by his dad's swiveling head, he was irked as well.
His mom seemed oblivious to it all. Her smile was bright, white, and blissful. Her big, blue eyes were attracting and reflecting all of the light in the room. Her arms were joyously frolicking with the music. But her tight, scantily-clad body was rolling like a beautiful, deadly viper.
Her Saturday gym visit, her nosey questions about his plans, the bullshit orange juice run, the abandoning of her heel -- It finally clicked. His parents were here for no other reason than his mom wanted them to be. She looked forward to this party, she prepared for this party, and she wanted to be borderline inappropriately sexy at this party.
In a million years, his dad would never forgive Mr. Commons, or accept his wife wearing that to a party, or stay out on a dance floor while she was being ogled by other men... Unless she talked him into it.
Spencer had always gotten the sense that his mom could talk his dad into anything. Now he understood why. The only question was why his mom wanted this night so desperately.
She looks insanely happy. Is this like therapy for her? Does she feel empowered when she does this?
Regardless of the reason, Spencer knew his parents weren't going to stop dancing, and that allowed him to imagine he was the one twirling her hand, basking in her smile, and bringing her home to slide his throbbing cock into her warm, welcoming pussy.
Keeping his hands off his rock-hard erection was a tormenting act of discipline. But he knew touching it would be a slippery, dangerous slope.
As the song died down, Spencer saw his dad lean into his mom's ear and point his thumb toward the front of the house. His mom nonchalantly nodded and mouthed, "Okay." His dad then walked away from the dance floor and through the archway into the living room.
Spencer panned back to his mom, and he watched a mischievous smirk form in her cheeks. Regrettably, Spencer had to follow his dad. Crawling back to the first window, Spencer popped up outside the living room just in time to see his dad knock and then enter a door at the end of the room. Based on the checkered floor tile and mirror, it was a bathroom. Well... That was anticlimactic.
Again, Spencer hustled across the yard to get back to the other window. Since he had left, his mom had moved much closer to the window. He could see the accessories of her costume, like her brass neck collar and matching bracelets, which glimmered in the strobe lights while she danced and sang easily to herself, biding her time.
Then, an average-bodied man dressed as Braveheart approached his mom and cupped his hand as if to speak loudly over the music. Spencer noticed his other hand fall to her midriff.
The alert son wanted to bang on the window pane until it broke. He knew that move. Many guys knew that move. He used that move. His mom cordially replied to the Mel Gibson character and smiled in a friendly way. Pangs of jealousy knifed through Spencer's chest. He reveled in the fantasy of his dad strutting back into the room and catching the man red-handed.
That wonderful dream would be deferred. Because, apparently, the wannabe Braveheart convinced his mom to be his dancing partner. Fortunately, his mom was lightheartedly holding his hand and twirling at a distance. It was nothing, and the son relaxed.
As the pop song progressed, however, the fifty-something-year-old man began pulling his mom into his checkered brown sash and kilt before she could spin away. The man placed his hands on her bare sides. And, to Spencer's surprise, his mom held his shoulders. They were now facing each other and grooving at an arm's distance.
In the dark fringe of the room and shielded by the kilted man, his mom seemed to be invisible to others. She used that freedom to vibe with the music and sexily carve her hips like she was earlier, this time with her stand-in partner.
When the beat changed in the song, the Braveheart broke away to showcase his wild dance moves for the sexy Leia. She laughed and covered her face. Even Spencer had to admit it was great physical comedy. As it happened, though, a shirtless shadow pounced behind her.
Spencer wanted to pound his fist on the glass again. He felt powerless to warn her about the horny guy behind her, who was dressed like Marvel's The Black Panther. The overuse of Marvel superhero costumes was enough of a reason for Spencer to dislike the guy. His black cast mask, black tights, and dark skin made it seem like he appeared out of nowhere.
The moment the man's hand touched the small of her back, his mom whipped her head around and looked up. The masked man lowered his head to talk into her ear. Or, at least, that was Spencer's assumption. His mom reacted with a toothy grin. She then stood on her toes and craned her neck to respond into his ear.
Then the man moved his hand from her back to her shoulder and shrugged like he was asking a question. Spencer could see his mom's turned face and he could read her curved lips as she coyly shrugged. "Maybe." She gently touched his hand with hers.
Spencer watched in utter disbelief as the man grasped his mom's thin waist and pulled her butt firmly into his groin. She giggled and mouthed something indistinguishable. Then, she wiggled her veiled ass and began grinding into the Black Panther's likely-hard cock. Never before had Spencer seen anything in his life that stunned him and literally made his jaw drop.
As his mom and her new partner built a rhythm, Braveheart shared a look of defeat and disappointment. She sympathetically shrugged as if to say, "sorry, he thought of it first."
His dad couldn't have been just peeing. And Spencer knew very well that it meant his mom had all the time in the world to dance with this guy. She knew it, too. Her flagrantly promiscuous moves illustrated that fact.
Spencer could see his mom was the only person dancing with someone other than her partner. All other dancers were talking in groups or basking in the company of their complementary significant other. But in the darkness and chaos of the loud room, nobody noticed the mismatching space princess and feline superhero gyrating into each other with increasing intensity.
The only shame his mom appeared to have was seen in her darting eyes. She constantly scanned and swiveled her head to make sure nobody was looking. Anytime someone glanced in her direction, she quickly pushed the Panther's hands aside and spun around at a distance to make it look like casual dancing. Then she returned to her grinding the moment the lingering eyes passed.
The logic evaded him, but Spencer no longer felt jealous. He was purely aroused. He was infatuated by the way his mom gracefully and fervently forced her ass into the stranger's erection. She delivered the pleasure in her skimpy outfit, allowing the stocky, shirtless man to forcefully give it right back. Spencer was sweating from his brow, and he was experiencing a high like he had never gotten before.
His thumb stroked the side of his fleshy cock through his shorts pocket. He nearly came the first time his mom bent over at the waist and delivered a sweeping, deliberate gyration to the man's black tights. She did so again seconds later. Her boobs looked like they were on the verge of spilling from her top while she leaned over. Spencer never realized how big her tits were.
The muscular man behind her slid his hands around her waist to the front of her body. They landed just under her gilded bikini cups. It was dark and the lighting was sporadic, but Spencer could see the man's thumbs tapping the front of her olive cups, testing the waters.
In a decision that filled Spencer with disappointment, he watched his mom pull the man's hands back down to her abs. They danced through the song and into the next one, which was much slower and with a deeper bass.
The slutty Leia sliced her hips up and down the man's body, feeling the music, and moving more sensually and teasingly than before. The man pulled her in even tighter and she bent over for even longer, granting him a view of her curved butt cheeks through her thin rear veil.
It was the hottest display of eroticism the nineteen-year-old had ever seen, and he feared he would fog the window. Without giving it a second thought, he grappled for his smartphone in his pocket. After making sure the flash was off, he began to record video under his chin. He returned to admiring the sexy tango, knowing he could witness it forever.
The masked Panther stretched his back and looked to the ceiling. When the roving lights passed over Slave Leia, Spencer could see she was just as enthralled. Again, the man eased his hands up her ribs before tapping her bikini cups with his thumbs. Again, she moved them down to her belt — this time holding them in place.
Spencer saw her head and long, blonde braid shake, No. The man threw his arms out in exasperation, and Breanna giggled and shook her head no, again. For another verse of The Weeknd song, she grinded into him, restraining his brown hands with her smaller, creamy ones. Then, she smirked back at him and shrugged.
The son's face turned from burning red to ghostly white. His mom bent over at the waist, gradually rose, carrying his hands with her. She came to rest with her head against his chest and his hands cradling her tits. He squeezed them.
She tilted her face straight up, so Spencer couldn't read her lips. Suddenly, the man peeled the bottom part of his mask to his nose and tongue kissed Breanna. She tossed her hands behind his neck and let him fondle her voluptuous boobs as he pleased. They made out with their lips and tongues, staggering together into the nearby wall. She ground into him with even more passion and power.
In another tormenting development, Spencer watched his mom scan the room multiple times before plunging her hand into the man's tights. Instantly, the man practically picked her up and spun her against the wall to shield her from everyone else. They were now facing each other while they touched each other's bodies. Breanna handled his cock while he slapped her ass and slid his hand under her front veil. Spencer knew what he was doing.
In the crowded, tipsy, stimulated room, nobody noticed the horny exhibition in the back corner. Breanna and the Panther broke their kiss, and she hurriedly glanced around the room. She pointed toward the DJ booth, and the man casually followed her behind it.
Recklessly, Spencer jammed the corner of his head into the windowpane, barely giving himself the angle he needed. The Panther was against the sidewall of the house, so Spencer couldn't quite see his body. But he did see the dark tip of his cock spring out of his tights.
He's gotta be huge, Spencer thought. He couldn't imagine how sizable the man's package needed to be for him to see a few inches of the drooping shaft from such a difficult viewing angle. The ignorance of the other party-goers was easier to explain. The DJ booth was draped in a white tablecloth, so to them, the Panther was just shirtless and posting up there to take a break.
In a final, definitive statement of how little Spencer knew his stunning mom, he watched her kiss the man, turn around, make certain no soul was looking, and then drop to her knees. Immediately, she wrapped her lips around the shaft, and most of her head disappeared.
"Holy fuck..."
There was no time for teasing. His mom's blonde braid jostled while she rapidly bobbed in and out. Droplets of Spencer's sweat ran down the glass window. His flesh and tissue painfully dug into the stucco facade. But Spencer couldn't blink. He didn't know what he was seeing or what he was imagining in his fogged brain, but the son swore his mom was gripping the man's hips while he fondled her breasts. And not one second passed where she wasn't looking into his face while she sucked his cock.
Her bobbing transformed into a furious blur. Within the span of a single song, his mom's blonde hair was smothered by a dark hand and disappeared for good.
It was an unnerving half-minute before Spencer could see his mom's eyes again. She leaned back and sat on her heels. Against the tablecloth, she looked up and covered her mouth like she was suppressing a laugh. Her cheeks were full, and she appeared to be listening to the man. She playfully rolled her eyes before cordially opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue.
Spencer squinted and watched her spit a thick strand of what had to be cum. It dropped toward her tits. But at the last second, she caught the strand with her fingers and ate it again. She swallowed with a big gulp before she could erupt in laughter.
For a short while, she rested and caught her breath. The man wiped the glistening sweat from her forehead as they appeared to converse. After he stepped forward from the wall and tucked his bulky package into his tights, he offered Brenna his arm. She peeked over the DJ table to make sure the coast was clear, then she accepted his chivalrous offer.
Casually, they walked away from the booth. Dangerously close to Spencer's face, she touched her finger to her pursed lips, reminding the Panther to be quiet. He nodded before giving her butt cheek a secret squeeze and heading off toward the far exit.
His mom seemed lost and unsure for a moment, but then she approached a fellow female attendee and took a sip of her drink. She waved thankfully and turned away before swishing the cocktail in her mouth and swallowing it. Ironically, the gulp of alcohol made her wince and cringe.
"Holy... fucking... shit..." Spencer had fallen into a lustful fever. He no longer recognized the world he knew, but he was desperate to find a place in this new one. His skin and awkwardly twisted joints were almost stuck to the stucco. "Ahh," he painfully peeled away and shook his limbs.
Meanwhile, his mom had migrated back to where his dad had left her. Her breathing seemed normal again, and she wasn't dancing. She was innocently waiting. About ten minutes later, his dad arrived and returned to dancing with his dutifully waiting wife.
Spencer had a million thoughts swirling, and biological needs demanding attention. Without realizing it, he was standing normally outside the window in plain view. As a male firefighter and female dalmatian meandered to his left, he felt one of their stares connect with his. He ducked and flew.
----
Following the fastest two-hundred-meter dash Spencer would ever run, he dove into his car and pushed the ignition. He accelerated down the cul-de-sac and turned onto the main road without stopping at the sign. He never once looked back.
His blood pressure was too high and his focus was scattered. Driving became dangerous, so he pulled over and got out of his car in a random development. He jogged down the sidewalk in the dark, trying to process what he had just witnessed.
Thinking clearly was impossible, and Spencer knew why. The tent in his pants was painful and throbbing. He looked around, but it was too risky to do here. "Just go home," he told himself.
He drove away, feeling more in control of his steering wheel. "Dude... Calm down. You're alright. That fucking dalmatian couldn't have seen your face in the dark. There's no way she even knows you anyway! You don't know who she is, right? See, you're fine."
A streetlight before him turned red, and he slowed down. He stared at the orange juice in the passenger seat. As long as he was home and had the juice in the fridge before his parents got home, he was in the clear. When the light turned green, a hollowness spread through his gut and wiped his mind.
Holy fuck... he thought. No, no, no. It's going to be there, dude. It's going to be there. You brought it with you. Please, tell me I brought it with me!
Spencer pulled at his hair and grimaced at the passenger seat and footwell. "FUCK ME!" He slammed on his breaks and punched his steering wheel. "You gotta be fucking kidding me!"
Somewhere in the grass, outside Malcolm's house, was a golden heel. He had set it down to dig his phone out of his pocket and video record.
The teenager's world shattered around him. His greed had cost him in the form of a fatal error. His expertise in cybercrime, but Spencer was fairly certain he had left a whopping clue at the scene of a very physical crime.
"What are you doing? Go back and get it!" He scolded himself. But he knew the dog-costumed woman had certainly alerted Malcolm by now. After all, he had committed a serious fucking crime. He was a Peeping Tom. They probably even have the heel by now, Spencer panicked.
His next plan was to drive home, grab the spare key to his dad's Porsche, go back to Malcolm's street, take the heel his mom had left in the car, go back home, leave that one in the driveway, and let his mom be convinced she lost her other heel in the driveway and some pervert had broken into the car, stole her shoe, and then brought it with him to the side of the house to watch her.
As insane as the plan was, it was his most viable option. But Spencer didn't have the stomach for it. He was young, and he was freaking out. On the bright side, at least he had driven all the home while debating himself.
----
Spencer put the orange juice in the refrigerator. "If they ask why it's warm, I'll just say I accidentally left it in my car for a while." He was truly cracking.
He was never the type of kid to be in trouble or cause trouble. At least, not serious trouble. This could be serious trouble. Embarrassing trouble. It would all come down to whether someone could link the heel to his mom's costume. If they couldn't he was in the clear. And since people were likely searching outside for the party crasher right now, if the other shoe were to drop, so to speak, it would happen tonight.
Fully dressed, Spencer lay on his bedspread and stared at the ceiling. He was desperate for sleep. All he wanted to do was close his eyes so he could stop worrying. He wanted to just wake up tomorrow to find out if his life was ruined or not.
The only positive energy inside him was concentrated in his cock. It was still rock-hard. And he wouldn't sleep a wink until he got rid of it. Despite it being the cause of his stress, Spencer opened the video recording on his phone. He removed his clothes, locked his door, and pressed play.
Somehow, it was more surreal watching it on a screen. It had to be fake, but it wasn't. His mom was an elegant, sculpted bombshell. More than that, she knew how to use her body. It was fitting and just for her body to be wielded by a seductive, mischievous, and worthy mind like hers. Spencer pumped his cock, and when he reached the part where his mom was kissing the man and helping him grope her large tits, he exploded on his abs.
"Hoo! Ahh... Ahh..." He rolled his ankles and sunk into his comforter.
The fog lifted from his mind, and he flopped onto his stomach and continued watching the video. The recording was shaky. Spencer hadn't realized his hands were trembling. As his amateur video got to the part where his mom dropped to her knees to suck the man's dick, Spencer couldn't believe his luck.
The odd angle into the window meant Spencer's eyes could only get as close as his nose. The distance from the top of his phone to his camera lens was much shorter. While he still couldn't see all of it, he had captured much more of the blowjob than he had thought.
He could see much more of his mom's impassioned and dedicated eyes. She looked heated and happy. The best discovery was how, after the man finished in her mouth, his mom delivered a series of small blows around his cockhead to suck out every drop. Her face was so beautiful.
Spencer replayed the video and jerked off again. Finally, he was empty and at peace. He passed out.
*****3
The following morning, Spencer was afraid to leave his bed. He hadn't been woken up by policemen banging on his door, so that was a positive. Last night he just wanted to know if he'd get caught. Now, he wanted to live in a world where he would never know. He lay in bed for hours, until the waiting and hunger became its own form of suffering.
The house was bright and open. Spencer walked downstairs into the living room full of family photos. His mom was there, sitting on the carpet and sorting through stationary. She never lost that bit of hippy-ish flavor.
"Oh, hey! Good morning, hun."
Spencer froze. The moment he caught her gaze, he flashed back to the night before and he swelled with emotion. His throat tightened. "Um, yeah. Mornin', mom." He wanted to stay and chat, but he couldn't keep his eyes from her t-shirt and leggings. Plus, he wanted to test if he was in the free and clear. So, he made his way to the kitchen like nothing was wrong.
"Wait, Spence..."
Fuck. "Yes, mom?"
"This might seem like an odd question... But did you happen to find a heel, like a woman's heel, in the driveway last night?"
His blood ran cold.
She continued, "Your dad and I were running SUPER late 'cause we misunderstood the invitation. Like, it would've been really bad. And I had this bag of old clothes and shoes in his car for him to drop off at Goodwill on his way to work. And I think one of the shoes fell out when we were leaving."
They don't know... Spencer thought. A crushing weight melted off his shoulders, and he was filled with a joyous wave of sweet relief. He smiled brightly, "No, I didn't see anything."
"No? Shoot. Alright. Maybe someone saw a fancy-looking heel sitting in the driveway and thought it might be worth something?"
"Haha! Yeah, probably! I guess with-"
"Oh! Hold on a sec!" His mom apologized with a wince and answered her phone on the first vibration. She held her finger in the air, asking him to give her a moment. But all Spencer saw was the finger she used to touch her lips when she reminded the Panther to keep quiet about what they had done behind the DJ booth.
He pushed his pockets with his thumbs, disguising his erection.
"Hey, Theresa. How goes it?" "Mm-hmm," she listened. Her gasp echoed off the far walls. "No way! Why didn't she call the police?" She was absorbed. "God, that's insane! How long was he there?" "Doesn't Malcolm have cameras pointed in, like... every frickin' direction?!"
Spencer's heat was in his throat. He looked for the nearest exits just in case. Like his unsettled mom, he was hanging on every word. Spencer was irreligious, but he found himself praying to the universe his mom wouldn't connect her missing heel with the story of the window spy.
"Ugh! What a pervert. He definitely planned that. You don't just show up and know what's going on." Breanna glanced at her son and relaxed her tone. "You know, Theresa... Theres- Theresa? I'll talk to you about this later. Now isn't a good time. But please text me if you hear anything." "Okay. Thank you, Theresa. Bye."
"What was that all about?" Spencer blurted instantly.
Breanna stared into space, trying to wrap her head around the gossip. "Well... Jenna, a friend of Theresa's, was at the cocktail party last night, and she said she saw a guy peeking into the window and watching everyone."
Spencer dropped his chin and widened his eyes. He hoped he wasn't overselling it. "No..."
"Yeah..." Breanna nodded, secretly excited to share the gossip with her son. "The creep planned it out, too. Because he knew to cover his face for Malcolm's security cameras. And he knew exactly where the cameras weren't aiming. He just-"
"The cameras didn't show him near the window?"
"No!" Breanna scoffed. "He ran to a part of the house where Malcolm, I guess, decided he didn't need any frickin' cameras at all because, hey, there are no doors there, right?" She slapped her legs. "Anyway... So, the creep just got to stalk us through the window. But then Jenna saw him, and he ran off like a scared rat."
"Wow..."
"Yeah! What a frickin' creep. I'll tell ya..."
Each time his mom opened her mouth, Spencer remembered what she had done with it the night before. But he had to shake those thoughts away. He was at a critical juncture. "You said something about the police?" He picked at his fingernails.
"Yeah. I asked Theresa why Jenna didn't just call the cops when she saw the guy. But Jenna wasn't sure what she saw, and she didn't wanna 'kill the party'."
"Wow... That sucks you couldn't see anything," Spencer breathed.
"Yeah, I know," she said. "Wait! Hun, can't you get the video and then auto-zoom or auto-enhance the face? You can probably do that kind of stuff, right?"
"No, that's not really a thing," Spencer informed her, truthfully.
"Really? I swear I've seen them do that on TV a bunch of times. Is it just a certain type of program you need?"
"No, it just doesn't exist. They fake it in all those shows. It's one of those old sci-fi ideas we never developed. Remember when we watched Blade Runner? They had a scene with that tech in it?" His mom nodded supportively, but he could tell she forgot. "Well, uh, anyway... Videos and pictures are just a collection of pixels. That's it. So, literally, a picture is just a bunch of colored boxes put together. And the more pixels, or boxes, you have, the more detail you have. Those security cameras already captured his face in the most pixels they could. You can't add more pixels, so you can't add more detail. And zooming in just makes those same pixels bigger, which doesn't really help in this case."
The son's answer was more about persuading himself he wouldn't get caught than answering his mom's question.
"Dammit," Breanna flapped her lips. "Well, I still think the police should get involved."
Spencer envisioned a detective pulling fingerprints from the missing heel. While logic told him the police wouldn't go to those lengths for a victimless crime, he was terrified of being found. "Mom. Think about it. If he ran off scared, he's not gonna come back. And what did he see that was so bad? A bunch of people in dresses and suits having drinks?"
Breanna moved her mouth before responding. "Yeah... I, uh... Pretty much, yeah."
"I've helped the FBI before. I can tell you, law enforcement won't take time away from serious investigations to find someone who looked through a window one time."
"Yeah, maybe..." Breanna sighed.
Spencer could see she was concerned and frustrated. And he hoped he could get her to stand down. "Plus, it would probably be more trouble than it's worth. The cops would have to get statements from everyone. Everyone who was there would have to give statements on what they were doing around the time Jenna saw the guy. Then they'd have to figure out why he was spying and what he wanted to see in the window. I think it'd be a wasteful process."
Suddenly, Breanna was flustered and shifting her position on her butt. "You know, you're right," she smiled and waved it off. "Everyone's making too big of a deal out of this. I'm actually gonna call Theresa back and get in touch with Jenna to make sure she doesn't create an issue. We just need to drop it and move on."
----
Victory. Spencer ate his Rice Crispies with a glass of celebratory orange juice. If the last twenty-four hours had been a roller coaster, it was the kind that jerks you around until you vomit. But now, he was free. He had gotten away with his crime. The security video couldn't identify him. He had parked at the end of the street, so a neighbor's camera couldn't have seen his license plate. The only risk remaining was the local police going to extraordinary lengths to catch a single-offending Peeping Tom. And, as he ate, his mom was working to nip that investigation in the bud to save her own skin.
Even if Malcolm did find the missing heel, he'd have to link it to Breanna's costume. Why would he think to do that? Given that Malcolm had surely inspected the crime scene by now and Breanna hadn't heard of a found gladiator heel, that loose end was also tied.
But while that stress dissipated, an uncomfortable reality took center stage. His mom had used his dad to cheat. Looking back on it, why else would his mom care more about his dad's law partner's parties than his dad did? Why did she need to wear that costume, unless it was to impress other men?
Spencer wondered how often his mom strayed with men in Malcolm's house. That couldn't have been the first time. She looked practiced, but also not too used to it. And those men seemed to believe she might be interested in them. Who were those men? Maybe they were single? That would make sense. Nobody else there seemed to match them, and it's not like everyone has a partner. But why would his mom cheat there? Wouldn't it be the riskiest place? Maybe.
Planning an affair almost seemed harder... choosing a location, a meeting time, leaving a digital trace over phones. What better opportunity could there be for his mom? She was already out with her hubby, so she didn't need to lie or go anywhere. She could rely on him disappearing for close to thirty minutes. She was in a dark, crowded room where everyone was dressed like someone or something else. Most of the people there didn't know each other or even recognize each other until they got close. It was a room where people walked by others flirting and dancing without batting an eye. And who would ever suspect the man and woman making out in the corner were cheating?
But maybe it isn't a perfect place, and that's what she likes about it, Spencer thought. He felt like a terrible person for feeling this way, but he was more aroused than he had ever been in his life. He couldn't help it. He had seen his mom in a new light, and he was hopelessly addicted. He needed to see her that way again. He needed to see her using her lips, hips, and mind to hornily seduce a man again. The video was great but wasn't enough.
Don't be an idiot, Spence. You barely fucking got away last time. Now, people are gonna be looking for you! The dalmatian almost sicced the cops on you, you fucking moron, Spencer thought.
He fought hard against his urges, but he was distracted by the thought of how incredible it was he got his mom to relent. She had been hell-bent on calling the police, and after just alluding to the idea of her getting caught, she immediately reversed her opinion.
Spencer crunched on his cereal. I have video evidence...
----
When night fell, Spencer retired to his room and watched the video again. This time, his eyes drifted from the screen and his mind slipped into a fantasy. He told his mom that unless she considered having sex with him, he'd show the recording to his dad. When they finally fucked, his mom found it to be as hot and intimate as Spencer did, and she stopped feeling coerced. She passionately rode his cock and cried out his name. She dug her fingernails into his toned pecs and slapped her ass onto his legs and groin. The whole time, her blue eyes were more desirous than they had been for her dance partner at Malcolm's party.
After emptying his testicles onto his abs and heaving chest, Spencer felt ashamed and broken for even imagining it. In real life, he knew his mom would be traumatized by blackmail sex with her son. It was cruel but karmic: In his hand, Spencer had the greatest shot he'd ever have of sleeping with his mom, and he could never use it. He promised himself the video could only be used to masturbate.
*****4
Monday was a calmer day. It was a workday. Back to normal... more or less. Spencer jerked off to the video and then showered to start work by eight. During a long lunch, he found the time to plan the trips he was taking with friends to San Diego in the upcoming weekend. Also, he found time to cum to the video again. After finishing work early, he rewarded himself by using lube and taking his time stroking it to the video once more.
His mom had still been out-of-character when she returned home from his dad's law office earlier in the afternoon. She mentioned she was leaving to get a late lunch with Theresa, and Spencer was surprisingly glad to see her leave the house. It helped clear his mind. He made a sandwich, returned to his room, and turned on the English Premier League match.
In the seventieth minute of the game, Spencer heard the front door squeak downstairs. He knew his dad wouldn't be home for another hour, so it had to be his mom.
Minutes later, a gentle knock sounded through his room. "Yeah, mom?"
"I need your help with something real quick. Can I come in?"
He heard his mom's smooth, earthy voice and promptly sat up straight on his bed and combed his parted hair with his fingers. "Yeah, sure." He muted his TV.
Breanna pushed the oak door open but remained on the threshold. Silently, she revealed a pair of gold and bronze gladiator heels in her left hand.
The color drained from Spencer's face, and it was like his skin was being pricked with a thousand pins. He watched his mom take one step inside his room, then he smiled, "Oh, awesome! You found the last one!"
"Well... I didn't..." Breanna spoke coolly. "Malcolm found it next to his house... of all places. He thought it was some broken footwear somebody just wanted to throw away."
"Wu- Wow! That's lucky he found it and knew it was yours." Spencer was twitching, and he wanted to jump out the window to flee on foot. It was as if his mom didn't need to blink.
"It was not luck. On the phone yesterday, Theresa told me Malcolm found a heel near the window and it looked like it was part of someone's costume. I called Malcolm and asked him if he had found my lost heel. He did."
"That's crazy... It's uh- Wow... It's a small world, I guess. You never know where things'll turn up." Each sentence was a race to get his words out before his throat closed completely. He had no idea as to how convincing he was, but his mom's eyes were cutting through him like cold, steel blades.
"Spencer... You're good at solving these types of problems... Would you mind telling me how my right heel went from our driveway all the way over to the window where the spy was watching us?"
"Umm... Well, you first have to consider all the possibilities. Like... For example... that the stalker was probably, like, obsessed with you, and he found your heel in the driveway, and he probably heard about the party. I've heard of FBI cases like that. Also, there's-"
"See... I don't think that's how it happened," Breanna cut in. "I think the stalker saw me lose my heel in the driveway and then followed your father and me to the cocktail party. Or, he just happened to know we were going there."
Spencer wasn't going down without a fight. He moved his mouth to speak, and his mom said, "You're a terrible liar, Spencer. I knew yesterday it was you, and today I have the proof."
He shook and was on the verge of tears. He blurted, "You guys were acting really weird, and I wanted to know what was going on."
"So you followed us and spied on us?!" His mom broke her stony expression, and he was fuming.
"I didn't mean to-"
"You didn't mean to? You didn't mean to drive across town, sneak past security cameras, and look through a frickin' window?"
"No! I mean I wasn't trying to see you dance with those people like that. I didn't know you'd be dressed like that. I just wanted to know why you guys were trying to kick me out of the house and acting so weird."
At the drop of a hat, Breanna went from angered to worried. She folded her arms against her red blouse. "Wait... What do you mean, 'dance with those people like that'...? What do you think you saw?"
The truth was caught at the end of his throat. "Like... Just how you and dad were dancing, along with all those other people. I guess it was an adult costume party."
His mom's nostrils flared as she exhaled. "Yes, it was a cocktail party. Just a costume one. Your dad and I like to let loose and have fun sometimes, just like you do."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know..."
"Spencer, you walk out of the house every other damn night... and we don't say anything. We do it once... and you make dozens of people think there's a stalker on the loose. God, Spencer!" She rubbed her face. "You really screwed up this time. Not everything is a conspiracy for you to solve. Did you ever think of just asking me why we were acting weird? We could've talked about this like adults."
"I am really, really, really sorry."
"No." Breanna was back to fire and brimstone. "Sorry isn't gonna cut it. From now on, every single time you leave the house, you have to ask us first. Got it? And that trip to 'Hero Comic Fest' or whatever the hell it's called... it's canceled."
"Mom, that's not fair! It's just one mistake. It'll never happen again. I've had tickets for that for a year!"
"A 'mistake' is getting too drunk at a party. Do you realize that I had to spend the last two days begging my friends not to call the police on you? Spencer, you could've been arrested."
"That's not why you told them not to call the cops..." Spencer muttered.
"What was that?"
"I said, that isn't why you don't want the police involved," Spencer voiced loudly. His eyes were watery. "You don't want the police asking what you were doing that night."
"Oh, really?" His mom crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "You think I'm afraid to admit I was at a costume party?"
"I know what you did on the dancefloor that night..."
The bedroom was quiet. The mother studied her son's eyes. "What do you mean, Spencer?"
He was straddling the line, and he was willing to step over it. He puffed his chest out. "Speaking of 'Hero Fest' — by the way, it's called Comic-Con — I saw what you did with the Black Panther."
His mom turned into an icy statue. Then her breath quickened, and she stumbled for words. "I... I don't even know what that means. What, like... What do you think you saw?"
"I know what I saw. I saw you grind on him like crazy and let him touch you when dad was in the bathroom. Then you were making out with him, and then..." Even in a fit of rage, Spencer struggled to say it.
His mom's eyes revealed her shock and shame. But her mouth stayed the course. "Uh-huh, sure... And then what did I do?" She scratched her hair and blinked profusely.
The son was furious with her gaslighting and her audacity to punish him. "I saw you suck his dick! You swallow his load and beg him to be quiet about it." Even Spencer was surprised to hear those words leave his mouth.
Breanna was speechless. The surrender and acceptance was written on her face. She stared at the carpet and held her face. There was more than a minute of silence. Eventually, she stood up straight and shrugged, "Nobody saw it except for you. And nobody will ever believe you."
Getting his mom to admit she cheated was a bizarre accomplishment. He didn't know how to feel. But he knew how to counter her. "I promised myself I wouldn't do this... but I have a video of it."
Her long neck swallowed. "How?"
"I recorded it while I watched you."
"No, you didn't. It was too dark in there. You can't film through a window, like that anyway."
"No?" Defiantly, Spencer lifted his phone from his bed and tapped a few buttons. His mounted television went black and then a video began to play. He looked across his room at his mom. Her mouth was agape and her arms dangled helplessly. She had to stand there and watch herself pleasure the man's crotch with her ass. She looked away when it got to the scene of her bending over and placing his hands on her tits and giving them a squeeze. Soon, it showed them making out.
The video was chronically arousing to Spencer. Watching his mom watch it with him was too surreal.
"Fine..." she interjected. "So, you have a video of me dancing and making out with a guy. I can overcome that. It just-"
"No. This video has everything."
"That's impossible," Breanna denied. "We were against a wall."
"No... He was against a wall," Spencer corrected.
Before Breanna knew it, she was on camera, accepting the thick erection in her mouth. She knew from memory, the video had to be close to over. She covered her face when her recorded self sat back with a full mouth and caved to the man's request to show him his load. Breanna peeked through her fingers at how she surprised him by playing with his cum before swallowing it and laughing. Her son's video had even captured her warning the man to be quiet and him giving her butt a goodbye squeeze.
The television paused on the final, blurry frame. Breanna stared into the void. "Why did you take this video?"
"I don't know. I just started taking it."
Neither the mom nor son were hostile. In the aftermath of the movie, they both realized they had entered a new status quo. They could speak without pretense.
"I won't punish you if you delete that video."
Spencer breathed hotly and pondered. "Umm..."
"Let's delete it," Breanna turned to him. "We can both just walk away from this. It's a safe ending for both of us." As she waited, her eyes caught the bulge in her son's khaki shorts. She looked up and saw her son's frightened hazel eyes. "Okayyy... I see..."
Spencer gulped the last of his saliva. His mom was in a red V-neck and tight, black shorts. He wondered if he had been erect before the video started playing. There was no point in apologizing, and there was nothing left to lose. "Since I saw you at that party, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. The way you did the things you did... The way you looked... How you... Mom, I know this video's a nightmare for you... But I can't let go of it for nothing."
Taken aback, Breanna arched her eyebrows. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm really attracted to you."
"I can see that," Breanna huffed. "I didn't expect it from you, but, yes, I know it can happen. As you saw at Malcolm's, though, a lot of other guys feel the same way. Attraction happens. You need to get over it. You need to delete that video, Spence."
"I need something to make it worth deleting."
Breanna chewed her lips. "I see... And what if I refuse? Do you really wanna blackmail me? That's how you want it? Sure, this video is really bad for me. But your dad and I won't get divorced over it. It'll just cause drama and stress and pain for everyone. I will tell him myself before I let you blackmail me."
Suddenly, it was Spencer's turn to feel shame and emotional turmoil. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes and he sniffled, but he held his composure. "I'm sorry, Mom. I don't think I could do it anyway. I just... I can't stop thinking about you. I need you and it... It just feels like the only way. I don't wanna hold it over you or anything. I just... I need to keep it."
The mother internalized her son's pain. She knew her son was in a chaotic mental state, and she knew she was the reason. He wasn't a bad person, and she doubted he could ever follow through on blackmailing her. The video simply represented hope, a hope he needed. Breanna, though, had her own interests to consider. "You need to delete that video. I told you already, it's not going to work out for you like you think it will."
Spencer fell onto his mattress with a thud and groaned in anguish. He popped back up. "Do you do it a lot?"
"What?" Breanna was confused by the change of subject.
"Do you do that type of stuff a lot? The stuff in the video, when dad's not there?"
Breanna pinched her nose. "We are not talking about this."
"We need to. I have to know." Spencer pointed at the TV. For someone with tremendous leverage, he was practically begging.
"Yes, Spencer. Obviously, I've done that before," she spoke briskly. "I find a way to do it almost every time. Can't you see those guys knew they had a shot?"
His mom's condescending tone made him feel naive for asking, but knowing she had done it before made the video more erotic. He imagined the first, lucky single guy telling another how Bill's sexy wife sucked his cock. Then, the rumor spread from there. "How often do you guys go over for cocktail parties?"
"I don't know," Breanna sighed and looked out the window, "if Mr. Commons is in town, I guess every couple of weeks or maybe longer. Why?"
Mapping it in his mind, Spencer was already concocting a strategy to see his mom like that again. "So, you've done that kind of stuff a few times this year, at least?!" His mom answered with a silent sweep of her blonde hair. "So, dad could tell by the video that you weren't doing this stuff for the first time... He could tell that wasn't a one-time thing?"
"Spencer, I am NOT going to let my son blackmail me into fucking him," Breanna stomped. "Delete the damn video, and let's move on with our lives."
Spencer was young but realistic. He knew that unlike the men at Malcolm's, his mom wasn't going to bend for him. Her confessions did spark an idea of how to end the standoff, though. "Fine... I won't show dad. But I want to watch you."
"Watch me...?" Breanna cocked her head.
"Yeah, like I did last time."
"You wanna just watch me do it? And that's it? You swear?"
Holy crap... Spencer didn't expect to get this far. He felt like he should've asked for more. Maybe she had been downplaying the consequences of the video? No matter, his heart was racing. "Yes. I want to watch you really badly," he said. "Like every time, though. I wanna keep seeing it," he added.
She held the sides of her head and twisted side to side. She's actually gonna do it, Spencer thought. His hope was then dashed upon the rocks.
"No, no. We can't even do that. Malcolm is going to add cameras to that side of the house now. And my friends see the pictures I post of you on Facebook. They know who you are. If that had been Theresa instead of Jenna... It'll never work."
Just as he saw the gates to paradise, they closed in his face. Spencer was more distraught than ever, and he fell back into his bed, churning his gears.
Breanna could see he needed time to think. She needed it, too. "Alright... Get THAT off the TV. You're not in trouble. There's no need to tell anyone about anything. We can talk more tomorrow, okay?"
Spencer nodded.
*****5
That night, Breanna lay in bed under the covers. It was black, and she listened to the droning wisp of the air conditioner. Bill breathed steadily as he dozed off to sleep. They had capped their evening with a bout of engaging and satisfying sex.
Breanna had a weight on her chest, which she felt with every breath. There were serious issues to ponder and points of reflection. Instead, she thought back to earlier in the day when she threatened to punish her son. She told him he had to ask for permission to leave the house and she canceled his trip plans. It was odd to her that Spencer cared more about the Comic-Con ban than the loss of his freedom. Breanna may have bought a Slave Leia costume after Bill said he wanted to dress as Han Solo, but she never understood nerd culture.
Since she couldn't sleep anyway, Breanna scrolled through articles and galleries of Comic-Con. That might explain it, she thought. A staple of the pop-culture convention seemed to be attractive women dressing as sluttier versions of their favorite book or screen characters. For a successful and handsome nineteen-year-old like Spencer, Breanna was sure it would be heaven for him. She chuckled and set down her phone.
He was probably asleep by now. He had the stolen video of her to assist him. Breanna sighed and rolled her neck on her pillow. Twenty-one years, she thought, staring at her husband. His hair was silver, but his nose was still young and rosy. Compared to how she felt about Bill, the sneaking around at Malcolm's house meant nothing. That was about sex. A fleeting, risky high. This, her marriage, was about long-term love and stability. She knew her husband felt the same way. So, handling this situation correctly and discretely was important — not just for her happiness, but also for her husband's.
*****6
The space felt barren and dim. Blue curtains held back the white light. His stomach growled, and his skull squeezed inward from the sides. His longer hair on top was tangled and his tongue tasted stale. Spencer was awake but not up yet. He was disgusted with himself, loathed himself, for his attempt to extort his mom. He loved her more than anyone else. She was the most reliable person in his life... Funny it took this for me to realize that. I can't believe you blackmailed her. And I can't believe it almost worked.
In many ways, his mom considering the idea of letting him watch her again, letting him watch her behave and shine like a stunning, masterful slut again, was the worst thing that could've happened. How could he ever let her go or let go of the video now?
As more daylight filtered through every seam and hole it could find, the son came to a compromise. He would never follow through on showing the video, but the power and meaning it held were too great for him to delete it from his life. Maybe he could get something out of it someday. Maybe it could merely let him dream. Either way, his mom would take another crack at making it disappear, and he wasn't going to cave.
----
In the study, which was a small room with a wall of bookcases and a desk, Spencer locked himself away. The workday went by slowly, but productively. He had managed to pull himself in the morning with face soap, coffee, and a comb.
As Spencer was finishing a security audit, there was a gentle knock on the door. He read the clock on his computer. 2:13. "Yeah?"
"Hey, Spence? Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
His mom opened the door and entered. She looked around the room like she expected to see changes. Her hand was loose in her pocket, and she was in a casual striped t-shirt and shorts. She was barefoot, which she usually was around the house. "I guess you already know what I wanna talk about." Her eyebrows shrugged.
Spencer swiveled in the office chair and nodded. "The video."
"Have you given any thought to deleting it?"
With resolve, he looked up and answered, "No. I don't think I will."
The forty-year-old mother shut her eyes and sighed. "I already told you, you can't blackmail your dick into me." Her son sunk in his chair and then snapped to it. But Breanna cut him off before he could start. "And I'm not going to jerk you off either. Nothing. Nothing."
"I'm not going to delete it for no reason. I have to get something out of it," Spencer declared.
"Hey, didn't I try yesterday? When you brought up watching me, did I reject it? No. I was fine with it. Well... Compared to fucking my son or destroying my marriage I was fine with it. It's not my fault it would never work."
Simply hearing he would've had her permission to watch her seduce and blow men put Spencer in a better mood. He bit his cheek. "I know it's not your fault. It just sucks because I would've had no reason to watch the video if I actually got to watch you every time."
His mom lowered her sculpted chin as she swallowed. "Yeah, it sucks. Even if we could've made it work once, you probably would've deleted the video."
Spencer heard the higher pitch and more range in her voice. He considered her claim. "I don't know about that... Getting to keep watching you was the important part."
"Really?" Breanna questioned. She swept her blonde hair back and folded her arms under her chest. "Once wouldn't have been enough?" Her blue eyes and head accentuated her words, but she never looked right at Spencer.
"I don't think so."
She blinked in disbelief. "You're telling me that if you had gotten to see it one more time... Me wearing a skimpy outfit where my boobs and butt were popping out, me letting a horny guy get behind me, me dancing on his cock and teasing it until it was hard, me making out with him while helping him feel my tits, me jerking him off while he fingered me, and then me getting down on my knees and telling him to treat me like a slut before I suck his cock and let him blow in my mouth... You really wouldn't have deleted a frickin' video to see that?"
His perspiring thighs stuck to the composite leather chair, and it made a ripping sound when he adjusted them. The saliva had vanished from his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and his cock was swollen. "If, like... If it was like that, I probably would've."
"Only 'probably'...?" she challenged. "Spence, I knew you weren't going to change your mind. So, I tried to come up with something you'd want that I could actually do. And I think this 'something' will make it worth it for you."
The sudden use of steamy language made sense. She was manipulating him, but Spencer didn't care. He was willing to hear any offer she proposed. "Okay..."
"On Friday, you should take a friend to Comic-Con. On Saturday, tell him you're grounded and take me instead."
"What?" Spencer scrunched his oval face. He didn't know how to respond. "I mean... Why? How is ditching my friend, someone who actually likes Comic-Con, to hang out with...? Like... How would that make me delete the video?"
"You're going to delete it because, if you take me, I'll wear my Slave Leia costume all day. I've seen how other women dress up to go there. I'll fit right in. And, once we're there, there'll be thousands of horny guys and a zillion after-parties. I'll find a place where you can watch me do what I did at Mr. Commons' house. And since your father won't be there and nobody else I know can see, it's not like I can get caught. That means I can go a lot harder and a lot slower. And you'll be standing right there..."
Jesus Christ... Spencer wiped his forehead. His damp hair had fallen. The lingering in his mom's voice, her words, the subtle adjustments in her expressions... She was toying with his hormones to change his mind. And it was working. Spencer imagined spending all day with her while she strutted around in the skimpy, sexy costume. For her to speak to him this way, and for her to make this offer, he had to have her over a barrel.
With her clever tongue, she was persuading him to delete the risk to her marriage and the only prayer he had of ever fucking her... all for just the chance to watch her play with some random guy once.
"God... That sounds like the best day ever," Spencer admitted, anxiously chuckling.
"I know, right? It would be perfect for you."
"So, wait... You're really gonna do that right in front of me? How d'you know you'll find a place to do it? What if I can't see?"
His mom eased his worries. "You mean the fun part where I get on my knees? It's easy to find places in bars and nightclubs to sneak away for a blowjob. Believe me, I know."
Spencer didn't know if she was serious or toying with him to convince him. "Really?" He hotly breathed.
She nodded with certainty. "I promise you'll get a much better view than you did last time. So... It's a deal?"
His mom offered her hand, but Spencer wasn't quite ready to shake it. Even though the deal was a fraction of what he wanted, it still seemed too good to be possible. "You're not gonna back out after I delete it, right?"
"Spence," Breanna snickered defensively, "you don't have to delete it until the deed is done. I trust you to do it afterward. I can see you don't trust me, though. Think about it... Why wouldn't I do this? It's a fair deal for me, too."
"Holy shit!" He lunged back and held his head. "You're actually gonna do this."
Breanna smiled in relief and encouraged him. "Yeah, I am! Haha! I'm not tricking you."
"And you'd wear the Leia costume all day? Nothing over it or under it? Just that?"
Her son was leaning in with intrigue, and she had him on the ropes. "Yes, only that. I'll look exactly like I did Saturday night. But I'll have my heels on, which means my legs and butt will look even better. You'll never see me in anything sexier. You're going to be following me around like a lost puppy. I can't even believe I'm offering you this deal."
"And you'll be like how you were at Malcolm's? Like, you'll be in a good mood about all this while we're there?"
"I'll try," Breanna offered. "Let's put it this way, I pledge to try my best to have the same spirit I do at Malcolm's. Obviously, it'll be harder. Let's say, you won't feel guilty or feel like you dragged me there." That seemed to be what her son wanted to know. His lap then caught her eye. "And for the love of god, Spencer... Please don't wear a costume with tights."
Spencer burst into embarrassed laughter and his mom joined him. He caught his breath and nodded. "Okay! Deal!"
They shook hands. "Alright, I'm trusting you," the mother warned, but her son professed he could be trusted to delete the video.
As Breanna left the room, the knots in her shoulder blades loosened. Just as she had learned from lawyer negotiations, she had set a reasonable goal, strategized for the right angle, prepared for his responses, spoke to him in his language, feigned concessions, and arrived at her desired outcome — all while convincing the other party that he got the deal of a lifetime.Performing a sex act in front of her son was going to be weird, but she took comfort in knowing her Comic-Con plan was the safest option, and it didn't involve anything she hadn't done before. Plus, there was an undeniable allure to the idea of going to a world where she was free to wear a costume like hers in public.
Spencer jerked off in the study, riding the high of making a once-in-a-lifetime deal with his mom.
*****7
Already, Spencer was overlooking his Friday visit to San Diego with his friend Chris. The gut-wrenching and shameful part of the deal was calling his friend Zach and telling him he had gotten grounded for drinking too much at a party and had to sell his Comic-Con tickets for Saturday. Zach was bummed, but Spencer promised to make it up to him with a camping trip to Lake Tahoe. Family has to come first, he thought, trying to assuage his guilt.
Moving on, Spencer focused on more positive thoughts. Like what he was going to wear to the convention. The original plan was to wear nerdy t-shirts and shorts on both days. He was a nerd, but he didn't dress up as his favorite characters. Cosplaying was his line in the sand. The fantasy of matching his mom and making it look like they were together, however, was changing his view.
Star Wars was irrelevant to Spencer. In fact, having only a passing interest in most comic books and movies was a trait he and his mom shared. He only fancied stories where people used computers to catch cybercriminals. Yes, the hacking scenes and technical abilities were always absurdly fake. And it was part of the fun. So, while he didn't care about Midi-chlorians or Tatooine, if his mom was willing to dress like a slutty space princess, he could be a major fan for a day.
He searched for costume ideas on his laptop, and he found several solid options that could ship to him in under four days. One costume was perfect. Almost too perfect. To where his mom could feel uncomfortable. You better text her... Spencer thought.
"There's this costume I found for Saturday. It kind of goes with yours." He sent the product photo. "Is it cool if I wear it with you?" "The character is Leia's son. So it works on that level too."
There was no immediate reply, and regret and paranoia washed over him. He studied the photo of a shirtless Kylo Ren, who Spencer had just learned was Leia's son with Han Solo. Kylo had long, black hair. But if his mom could be a blonde Leia, then Spencer could be a brunette Kylo.
It was twenty minutes later when Spencer was on a walk when his iPhone vibrated. His mom replied, "This is your thing & you bought the tix. I won't tell you not to wear something. I'd prefer ppl don't know we're mom & son. Maybe match me another way? I'll get stared at no matter what tho, so I guess it's up to you."
Her response wasn't a no, and that was all Spencer needed to order the costume.
----
When Friday finally arrived, Spencer used his vacation day to leave sunny Los Angeles for even sunnier San Diego with his friend Chris. Everything, from the drive down Interstate 5 to the city marina, to the entrance lines, to the hallways of the waterfront convention center -- all of it was congested and clogged.
They had a wonderful time. Walking among the colorful booths and whacky merchandise was a unique experience unfound anywhere else. The craftsmanship and detailing of cosplayers' outfits were remarkable. Some women were wearing Slave Leia costumes, but none held a candle to his mom.
The entire day, Spencer daydreamed he was exploring the convention center and outdoor spaces with his mom, laughing and chatting and admiring. The fantasy of blackmailing her into sex and then her ending up loving it was creepy and unrealistic. The fantasy of her going to a whimsical event with him, dressed in a revealing costume she was already used to wearing, and having a good time goofing around with him like they usually did together... That was more realistic. And wholesome.
She'd get a crazy amount of attention here, Spencer realized. Even moderately attractive women in modestly sexy attire were drawing lingering eyes. He imagined his mom strutting down the linoleum with clacking heels, exposed legs, bare ribs, and flat abs, plus a light jiggle in her boobs... all beneath her model-like, down-to-earth smile.
The convention center was open for three more hours, but Spencer convinced Chris to head home early under the guide of beating traffic. The truth was Spencer planned to have a long day with his mom, and he wanted to be fully charged.
When he slipped inside their contemporary home, his mom greeted him in the living room. She was sitting on the carpet by her favorite coffee table and sorting through fancy papers.
"Hey, how was it?"
"That place is mental! There's so much to do, it's beyond anything. I can't wait to show you tomorrow and-"
Breanna frantically waved her arms and held her finger to her lips. It reminded Spencer of her warning the Panther to be quiet after she swallowed his load.
"Yeah, I look forward to seeing the pics tomorrow when we're kayaking tomorrow!" Her enthusiasm sounded through the large house, and Spencer nodded in understanding.
"Yeah, should be fun," he loudly agreed.
"When were you thinking of leaving? He's usually up around seven-thirty. We need to be gone before then."
The son grinned at the hushed planning. "To get there at a good time, we should be outta here by six-forty-five anyway." His mom gave him a thumbs up and went back to sorting through the stationary.
----
Family dinner was a quiet affair and much later than normal. They gathered around the long, slate dining table and ate the salmon burgers cooked by Breanna.
Spencer's dad was his usual, affable self — not speaking unless spoken to, and if he was spoken to, he was a risk for chewing your ear off with interesting stories. But nobody was speaking to him tonight. Breanna kept her eyes away from both her husband and her son. Spencer's eyes stayed away from his dad and wandered to his mom's side profile.
It wasn't that Spencer had no morals. He was infatuated and maybe in love. Nuanced thought and logic eluded him because he was drowning in swirling hormones, and he saw no way out but forward.
*****8
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Spencer muttered. "6:13," he read his wall clock. His heart throbbed while he fluttered his towel around his dripping body. He wasn't running late. Oh, no, he had plenty of time. It was just his heightened anxiety this morning. Everything needed to go perfectly. What if his dad woke up early? They should leave as soon as possible. Rather than seeing a beautiful morning sun just above the Eastern horizon, Spencer saw a part of the day that had already slipped away.
His costume had been laid out on his chair since last night, but Spencer carried it to the downstairs bathroom to be safe. The last thing he wanted was to run into his early rising dad and explain why he was wearing leather pants to go kayaking in the mountains.
His white smile and hazel eyes lit up the mirror. There were no dark circles or fatigue as he had feared. His boost in optimism was fueled by his flattering costume. Aside from his perfectly swept hair and the white tee he was wearing for the car ride, Spencer thought he looked badass. He ruffled his hair a bit, then brushed some of it back again.
In the middle of the white, pristine kitchen, Spencer drank a glass of orange juice, wearing black boots, pants, a utility belt, and a lightsaber. The door to the nearby laundry room squeaked open, and his mom appeared. Apparently, she had a similar thought about changing safely.
The only visible clues of her costume were her hair braid and the snaking gold accessories around her hair, wrists, and neck. Her entire body, down to her shins, was draped in her beige trench coat.
Spencer's eyes ran down her buttoned jacket and stared at her blue walking shoes.
"I'm not diving in heels," she answered.
"Well... You have them, right? Both of them?"
Breanna rolled her eyes and bit her mouth to avoid giving her son the satisfaction of making her laugh. "Yes, they're both in the car. We should leave now. We can get breakfast sandwiches somewhere."
"Yeah! Are you sure you have everything for your costume?" What if his mom forgot an essential piece and canceled their plans when they arrived in San Diego?
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein