Playing Ball With Mom
Chapter 2

Copyright© 2014 by Mister Arioch

Erotic Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Cherie's world fell apart after her husband Scott left her for another woman. Fortunately for Cherie, though, her three loving, handsome teenage sons are there to help her pick up the pieces of her broken heart ... and quite eager and willing to all take their father's place in her bed!

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Fa/Fa   Mult   Teenagers   Blackmail   Coercion   Consensual   Reluctant   Romantic   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Fiction   Revenge   Incest   Mother   Son   Sister   Aunt   Nephew   Humiliation   Light Bond   Rough   Spanking   Gang Bang   Group Sex   Orgy   Anal Sex   Analingus   Cream Pie   Double Penetration   Exhibitionism   First   Fisting   Food   Lactation   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Pregnancy   Sex Toys   Spitting   Squirting   Tit-Fucking   Voyeurism   Water Sports   Public Sex   Slow  

Cherie woke up in the morning with a dull, throbbing headache. For a moment, she wasn't even sure of where she was. Hell of a night, she thought sourly. I don't think I've had that much to drink since my sorority days...

With her naked body still tangled in the white silk sheets of her bed, Cheri let out a yawn. Slowly, she struggled free, stretching her arms out wide, feeling all the aches and pains in her back start to scream at her ... and as she stretched, her left hand brushed against a young, strong shoulder.

A young man's shoulder.

A cold jolt of fear crept up Cherie's spine. For a moment, she stayed perfectly motionless in her bed, not wanting to move, and especially not wanting to see the shoulder she'd just touched. No, no, please no ... I didn't ... no...

Quickly, Cherie got up, clutching one of the sheets around her body as she hurried out of her own bedroom. With her bare feet padding against the cold hallway floor, she raced down the stairs, heading for the kitchen, trying not to think about anything ... but especially trying not to think about Alex.

Alex, her wonderful, handsome stud of a son...

The rich, soothing scent of fresh-brewed coffee greeted Cherie as she reached the foot of the stairs. Thank heavens for small favors, she thought wryly, as she made her way through the living room and over into the kitchen. She'd gotten the stainless steel coffee maker sitting by the refrigerator just a few weeks before, mostly because it had an automatic timer ... and because Cherie was definitely not a morning person. She needed her caffeine. And as Cherie reached for a ceramic mug with the Capital City Mustangs logo on it – and for a bottle of aspirin, which was tucked away inside one of the counter drawers by the coffee machine – she realized that she'd never needed a cup of coffee before quite as badly as she needed one that particular morning.

With a nervous, trembling hand, Cherie brought the mug to her lips – no sugar, no cream, just strong and black. The coffee was piping hot and bitterly good ... and the first sip immediately cut through the fuzzy, panicked fog that was clouding her head. Better, Cherie thought, as she popped two aspirins and took a bigger gulp of coffee from the mug. She still wasn't quite ready to deal with what had happened the night before, but the coffee was helping. At least she didn't feel quite like her world was about to end anymore...

... her world was just really, really bad.

Beyond bad, actually.

A buzzing sound emanated from the counter. Cherie looked over past her mug of coffee, and noticed that she'd left her cellphone there the night before. She realized that she'd probably put it down there right before she'd gone out to the hot tub with her many bottles of wine. With a sigh, she picked up the phone, glancing for a moment at its gently-glowing screen ... and sighed again, as a look of annoyance crossed her tired face.

No, Stacey, not now, she thought in exasperation, as she put the phone right back where she'd found it. I'm really not in the mood for your bullshit. Stacey was Cherie's younger sister – at twenty-five, she was fourteen years Cherie's junior ... and at times, she seemed more to Cherie like a bratty, spoiled daughter than a sister.

Stacey had always been something of a wild child and a free spirit, the party girl without a care in the world ... until she needed to pay her bills, and then she would give Cherie a phone call asking earnestly for a loan. Stacey always promised to pay off her loans "super fucking quick", and never did – but deep down, Cherie didn't really mind. Not much, anyway. It was mildly irritating – as were her occasional whirlwind visits to the house, where she'd just drop by unannounced for a week and crash on the living room couch, which always pissed off Scott – but Cherie had come to expect as much from her flighty, ditzy sister.

It didn't stop Cherie from ever loving her younger sister dearly, as she knew when it mattered that she would do anything for Stacey, anything at all ... but Stacey was a fuck-up, plain and simple. A visit from Stacey always meant drama, and headaches, and problems...

... and at the moment, Cherie was in the mood for absolutely none of those things.

She'd told her boys that Stacey was a showgirl in Las Vegas, which wasn't entirely a lie ... assuming, of course, that one thought that "Vegas showgirl" and "casino cocktail waitress who moonlights as an exotic dancer as a seedy, shitty strip club" were more or less the same thing. She tried to avoid telling her sons too much about her sister – as far as she was concerned, the less they knew about Stacey and the swirling shitstorm of crazy that was usually Stacey's life, the better. Stacey was the proverbial bad penny that always seemed to show up at the worst possible moment, and...

... shit, Cherie thought, she probably heard about Scott and me ... and our divorce. She rolled her eyes, thinking about what Stacey was probably plotting. Her sister would probably mean to be helpful, in her own sweet, weird way – but at some point, whatever Stacey had in mind would turn into something all about Stacey. And money.

With a sigh, Cherie picked up the phone again ... and deleted her sister's message without even listening to it.

"Not today," Cherie muttered to herself. "I've got enough problems today already." She looked at the phone's glowing screen again, and sighed even louder. According to the helpful counter on the screen, she had one hundred and fifty-three other voicemail messages to still listen to, and over two hundred twenty-seven unread text messages to read.

Not just yet, Cherie thought sourly, as she put the phone on the kitchen counter, and then promptly covered and hit it under a pile of newspapers. I have to apologize to Alex first, for being the world's shittiest drunken mother...

Taking a deep breath, Cherie headed back upstairs to her master bedroom. The words please, Alex, you need to go, let's pretend none of this ever happened were on the tip of her tongue, and she meant to say them the moment she stepped through the bedroom doorway, she really did ... except as her eyes fell upon the sight of her son lying wrapped in her sheets, she completely forgot them.

"My ... god," Cherie whispered, putting a hand to her lips. Apart from one rumpled sheet that was awkwardly tangled between Alex's hips and thighs like some sort of loincloth, her son was totally naked ... and she could tell that he wasn't wearing anything beneath the sheet, either. Once more, she found herself shamelessly gawking at his body. He had perfect, rock-hard six pack abs, the kind the fitness magazines would die to show off on their covers, and lean, rippling muscles everywhere – his arms, his legs, his shoulders, his broad, strong chest – that seemed almost too good to be true. Her son had the physique of a young Greek god...

... and Cherie found herself admiring his body in ways she never, ever had admired it before.

No. Not just admiring it... lusting for it.

Cherie knew that Alex was a fantastic athlete, of course – he was one of the highest-rated high school baseball prospects in the entire country, and scouts constantly flocked to watch him pitch in his games. But she'd always seen him with a mother's innocent eyes before ... she'd never realized just what a gorgeous stud her son was before. With that veil of innocence lifted from her eyes, she could see him as a lover would, not just a mother. And seeing him like that ... Cherie felt a deliciously naughty heat start to burn between her thighs, imagining all the delightfully filthy things she could do with a lover with a body like that, a body that was just...

... magnificent, Cherie thought yearningly. She almost forgot to breathe for a moment as she gazed adoringly at her son's body, her heart skipping a beat or two in wondrous joy. Magnificent ... and so, so handsome...

"Morning, Mom," Alex said, as he finally noticed Cherie watching him from the doorway. He grinned crookedly at her as he sat up in the bed, even as Cherie turned away, vainly pretending that she hadn't just been shamelessly ogling his body. "I'm surprised you're up this early. You were, um, pretty trashed last night."

"Yeah," Cherie said, her hand shaking as she took another sip of her coffee. Some of it spilled onto the floor. "Yesterday, was, well, interesting. I ... I'm sorry about last night." She took a few nervous steps into the room, feeling her knees tremble as she reached the edge of the bed.

"Well, I'm not," Alex said. "Not at all." The grin on his face never wavered, but there was a firm tone in her son's voice that caught Cherie by surprise. "Everything we did ... I know you were having a rough night last night, Mom, but as far as I'm concerned, the way it ended ... it was just about perfect."

Abruptly, Alex sat up in the bed. He gently grabbed Cherie's wrist, pulling her down close to him so he could kiss her ... and not in the usual way that a son would kiss his own mother, either. Nervously, Cherie spun and pulled away from Alex, folding her arms over her chest, feeling her heart start to pound inside her chest, just about as hard as the dull pounding in her head.

"The way it ended," Cherie repeated. "I don't really remember..." She stared out of the bedroom window as her voice trailed off, looking down at the pool, and at the hot tub ... and her eyes widened as she suddenly remembered some of the details from the night before.

"Alex, did we, um..." Cherie swallowed hard, suddenly feeling quite uneasy. And quite guilty. "Did we... ?"

" ... do it?" Alex finished gently. "No, Mom, we didn't. You, uh, took care of me with your mouth, but you were pretty drunk ... you almost passed out in the hot tub after you, um, finished. So I just brought you upstairs to bed." He glanced down at the floor next to his mother, where a plastic bucket sat next to the bed. "I thought you might, uh, be sick ... or something. I never saw you drink that much before. So I stayed here with you when you fell asleep. I didn't want anything bad to happen ... we didn't do anything else, I promise. I just watched you sleep."

I took care of him with my mouth, Cherie thought dully. Alex's words rang inside her throbbing head as her own face turned red with humiliated embarrassment. I took off his swimming trunks, and I went down on him in the hot tub ... I sucked my own son's cock ... I even swallowed his cum...

"I remember now," Cherie said softly. "I think." She put her mug of coffee down on a small end table next to the bed, and stood near where Alex still lay partly underneath the sheets. Cherie's arms stayed folded across her ample chest, pressing the sheet still wrapped around her body close to her skin. She suddenly felt very, very cold ... and ashamed. As her memories came back to her, she felt utterly disgusted with herself.

While you were busy feeling sorry for yourself and drowning your sorrows, Cherie thought bitterly, you turned into a sloppy, stupid drunken slut. You sucked your own son's dick. How ... how could you? She gave a rueful shake of her head. What kind of an awful excuse for a mother are you, anyway?

"Mom, what's wrong?" Alex asked earnestly. "You look upset ... I don't understand." He sat up in the bed, moving to give his mother a hug – and then stopped, looking even more puzzled as Cherie quickly held up one hand, keeping him away from her.

"Alex," Cherie said, her voice trembling slightly as he sat back down, "look ... whatever happened last night ... it was a mistake." She took a deep breath, and shifted about uncomfortably as she stood in front of her son, unable to look him in the eye as she spoke. "It happened, and we can't take that back ... but it was wrong. We have to ... to pretend like it never, ever happened, Alex."

"Why?" Alex replied. He looked up calmly at his mother, and gently took her wrist in his hand. "You're making it sound like we did something wrong, Mom. Or that something bad happened."

"Something bad did happen, Alex," Cherie said. "I'm your mother, for God's sake. Last night, I was depressed, I was scared, I was drunk, I felt more alone than I ever have before in my life ... and I should've acted more like a mother to you. Instead, I was stupid and selfish, and I ... I took advantage of you. I'm ... I'm so, so sorry that I did that."

"Well, I'm not sorry at all," Alex said. "And besides, you're making sound like I didn't have a say in anything. Maybe what happened last night started with you, but I didn't exactly stop you. In fact, you even dared me to stop you last night ... and I didn't. You know why? Because deep down, I really didn't want to stop you. If I really, truly thought it was wrong, I would've walked away from the hot tub."

"But ... Alex, you know very well that you ... and I ... of course, that would be wrong," Cherie said gently. "That ... that was completely and totally inappropriate. We both know that."

"Really?" Alex looked earnestly into his mother's eyes. "Says who? Because I sure don't think so."

"Says..." Cherie's voiced trailed off. She found herself trying to give a reason to her son as to why she shouldn't be intimate with him – why she shouldn't suck her own son's delicious cock – and found herself completely tongue-tied, unable to speak. Even as all the many, many obvious reasons flashed through her mind, she found herself left with one thought that stood out more than all the others, one that surprised and shocked and even scared her a little...

... I agree completely with Alex, Cherie thought wonderingly. I don't think so, either...

"In a way, I'm glad I was as drunk as I was," Cherie said, as she tried desperately to put that thought out of her head. She laughed uneasily, even as she nervously brushed strands of her chestnut brown hair out of her face with the back of her small hand. "I mean, if I hadn't passed out, after, um, well, things ended when they did ... I don't know what else might've happened. Things already went too far between us, Alex – I'm glad they didn't go any farther."

Alex shook his head, chuckling softly. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, Mom," he said, much to Cherie's surprise, "things didn't go nearly far enough."

"You, uh, can't be serious," Cherie replied hesitantly, scarcely believing what her son had just said. "You think there, um, should've been more ... like what? You think we should've fu ... that we should've did it?" She clutched the bedsheet even more tightly to her body, feeling a gnawing pit growing in her stomach ... and her heart start to beat even faster with excitement. She could see where her conversation with Alex was heading, and as much as it scared her – as much as it completely, utterly terrified her – she also found herself realizing it was something she wanted, more than she ever could've imagined...

... and that she hoped more than anything that Alex would say what she thought he was about to say.

"Mom," Alex said earnestly, "I've had, well, thoughts about you ... fantasies, about you ... for a long time." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, but his eyes never left his mother's wondering face as he spoke. "Lately, whenever I dream of being with a girl ... a woman ... it's you. Always you. Which I, y'know, thought was weird, but it was just my weird little fantasy. I didn't think it would ever mean anything."

 
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