Chapter 2

When we arrived at the next mother’s house, my confidence grew when she invited us in and I noticed she wore a short dress. After we exchanged introductions, Brett began his interview. When she crossed her legs, exposing the underside of her thigh, Brett’s eyes briefly flicked to her exposed flesh before meeting hers again to continue his questioning. My heart beat faster, anticipating the moment he would run his hand along my leg.

I held my breath when he asked, “Do you remember the moment you decided to have intimate relations with your son?”

It caught me by surprise when she replied, “It was a kiss. Not an ordinary one, like a mother and son would do, but a full-blown erotic kiss. I melted in his arms and it was pretty much a blur after that when we moved to my bedroom and made love for the first time. I’ll remember that kiss for the rest of my life.”

Turning to me, she asked, “Was it like that for you, too? Could you show me how you two kiss?”

Although I was completely unprepared for this revelation, I wasn’t going to jeopardize Brett’s interview. I turned to Brett and pulled him close, pursing my lips. His eyes met mine and understanding my motive, he leaned over and pressed his soft, full lips to mine. It was a gentle, sensuous kiss causing my heart to flutter from our first romantic kiss.

When he released me, the mother remarked, “That looked a little strained. Are you sure you’ve kissed before?”

Sensing she didn’t buy our story, I explained, “I thought it’d be nice to show you the first time we kissed. Here’s how we do it now.”

My hand held the back of his head and pulled his lips to mine once more. After we connected, I opened my mouth and slid my tongue through his lips. We shifted and twisted our mouths around as we French kissed. Our nostrils expelled hot air as we ground our mouths together as if we’d been lovers for years. His eyes reflected my own feelings of lust. While we passionately necked, his hand traveled up my leg, squeezing and caressing my hot flesh.

I wasn’t sure how long we should demonstrate, but I wasn’t willing to end the wonderful feeling of kissing my handsome son. After several more minutes of enjoying our illicit intimacy, she exclaimed, “That’s exactly how my son kisses me. I feel much more relaxed now that I know we’re on the same page.”

Brett released me and by the bright flush of his face, I knew he was equally turned on as I was. He continued with his interview, but I barely heard any of it, relishing in the aftermath of our first erotic kiss. I related to the mother, knowing that if Brett kissed me like that at home, it would be next to impossible to resist his advances.

Still in a daze, we concluded our business, and on the drive home, he broke the silence with, “Thanks a lot, Mom. That was quick thinking on your part. I think Professor Brown will be pleased with the results.”

“I’m glad we could work through it. I know it was probably uncomfortable to kiss your mother. Hopefully, it wasn’t the worst one you’ve had,” I replied, nervously giggling.

He remained silent, staring directly ahead on the road, before softly whispering, “Actually, it was the best one.”

His face turned a shade of pink, just like it did when we kissed, and I refrained from answering, not wanting to embarrass him any further. My wet pussy throbbed with excitement and needless to say, I had to cum twice that night before drifting off to sleep.

On Thursday, Jennifer picked me up at noon and drove us to a seafood restaurant neither of us had visited before. It was upscale, with menu prices reflecting its exclusivity. As I scoured the listings, I felt a wave of stress, trying to find something reasonably priced without letting Jennifer know I was uncomfortable. I didn’t want to appear out of place or seem like I couldn’t afford to enjoy the experience. My eyes darted from one high-priced item to the next, my mind racing to find something that wouldn’t break the bank, all while maintaining a composed and casual demeanor.

Suddenly, I felt Jennifer’s hand grasp mine as she whispered, “Don’t look at the prices, Aria. I invited you here for a treat, so I’m buying.”

She had sensed my discomfort and sought to ease my angst—a true friend. Her reassurance helped, and I relaxed, allowing myself to read the descriptions more thoroughly. Each entrée sounded delectable, though I was still concerned about the prices. “It all looks so delicious,” I remarked, glancing at her. “What would you suggest?”

She smiled warmly. “I’ve heard they’re famous for their lobster. I’m getting a side of sautéed mushrooms with one. I recommend you try the lobster as well, with a side of grilled asparagus. That dish caught my eye too.”

“That does sound good,” I agreed.

After our waiter took our orders, I turned to Jennifer, and expressed, “Thank you so much for treating me today. It’s nice to indulge ourselves every once in a while. I feel like I’m on a date.”

“I don’t go out often,” she lamented. “I’m the one who should be thankful for your company. It’s just not the same as dining out alone. It does feel like a date, especially with a beautiful woman sitting across from me.”

Her sexy expression and flirting made me ponder about her sexual preferences. I delicately asked, “Have you been out with other women recently?”

“Not for a long time,” she replied. She grasped and lightly squeezed my hand, locked her gaze with mine, and softly spoke, “I know what’s on your mind, Aria. You can’t tell if I like women or men. I’ve enjoyed relationships with both. I’ve found that a woman’s soft touch provides me with a serene sense of comfort. On the other hand, watching a man’s face filled with excitement while he makes love to me tops the charts. There’s no comparison and if I had to choose, it would always be with a man.”

It warmed my heart that she confided in me her innermost feelings. When she mentioned the act of making love with a man, my mind pictured Brett’s face from my masturbation fantasies. In response to her hopeful expression, I responded, “Any man or woman would be lucky to have you as a partner. I love being in your company.”

Before she could reply, our dishes arrived, and we began the delightful task of cracking open the lobster claws. The restaurant’s high ratings were well-deserved, as we savored every bite and relished the flavors.

After we finished and were in the car, Jennifer asked, “Since I treated us to lunch, you get to plan our afternoon. What would you like to do?”

The day with Brett came to mind and I suggested, “I feel a little bloated with all that rich food. I wouldn’t mind walking it off. Would you like to visit a park I sometimes frequent?”

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Jennifer replied.

Our walk evoked memories of similar strolls with my son, and I instinctively held hands with Jennifer as we wandered through the expansive gardens. The fragrant floral scent in the air, coupled with the perfect temperature, heightened our enjoyment, prompting me to consider bringing up our last interview.

As if reading my thoughts, Jennifer said, “Brett’s latest report was fantastic. You guys really hit it out of the ballpark on that one. The insights into the mother’s feelings were very detailed. When Brett explained how a kiss was the turning point, he briefly touched on the request to watch you and him perform the same act. How’d it feel, kissing your own son as you would a lover?”

“It wasn’t a lover’s kiss,” I fibbed, arguing to myself that it wasn’t a total lie as the first kiss wasn’t sexual. “It was a tad uncomfortable for him, but it didn’t last long. Our lips touched, but we didn’t proceed any further. The mother was content with that and followed through with the rest of the interview.”

Jennifer halted us, turned to me and fear swept through me, wondering if she could detect my untruthfulness. “It must have been pretty convincing for her to confide in you. If I kissed you, I wouldn’t be content with a gentle one. Do you think Brett is gay?”

I knew better than that, but any confirmation would dispel my spun story, so I answered, “That may be a possibility. After all, he didn’t hit on his hot professor.”

“There is that,” she agreed. “I just love it when you call me a hot professor. It adds a bit of taboo to my title.”

My heart rate lowered as I convinced myself that Jennifer had bought my story. After our walk, she drove me home. Once in the driveway, she turned to me and said, “I have several meetings next Tuesday I can’t worm out of so I’ll text you for our Thursday meeting.”

“Sounds good,” I replied. “Thanks again for taking me out today.”

“So it was a date,” Jennifer smirked. Puckering her lips, she asked, “Don’t you kiss your dates after they treat you?”

Fear gripped me as I desperately yearned to feel her soft, moist lips, but I didn’t want my nosy neighbors, especially my sister, to witness me kiss a woman.

Saving me from embarrassment, Jennifer laughed and said, “Just kidding, silly. Good luck with your next interview.”

On Saturday morning, Brett gripped my sides as always, sending chills down my spine. After gently pulling back my hair, he kissed my neck before moving to my cheek. His hot breath washed across my face as he whispered, “Do you think we should practice kissing again, Mom?”

My heart fluttered as my body stiffened. It was the moment that would define our future. If he kissed me again, I wouldn’t be content until I felt his cock deeply lodged in my horny cunt. All I had to do was turn around and allow him to take me. Hesitating, I asked myself, “What would happen after our lustful desires had been fulfilled?” Several possible disastrous consequences of an incestuous affair filled my mind.

Whether it was my hesitation, tense posture, or the fact that I seemed to be holding my breath, Brett decided to back off, commenting, “There’s probably no need. We nailed it during the interview.”

As he took his seat at the table, my mind screamed, “No! Don’t give up. Take me!”

While we ate, I reflected on my interactions with Jennifer and Brett. My inaction with both of them prevented me from solving my increasingly horny state. The situation became even more complicated by my growing infatuation with two different people. “If I were to become involved with one, would it mean I was cheating on the other?” I asked myself. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

That night, finding my mind still in turmoil over my dilemma, I solved it by masturbating to Jennifer and then again with Brett as my partner. Afterward, with a clearer head, I concluded that this might be the ultimate solution, and far less stressful.

When Tuesday arrived, I prepared myself for our next interview. I missed spending time with Jennifer, so I texted her, expressing my feelings and wishing her well in her meetings. For the next twenty minutes, I kept glancing at my phone, anxious to hear from her.

Finally, my phone chirped with a message. As I read her note aloud, I pictured her cute face in my mind, “Miss you so much, Aria! Tuesdays and Thursdays are the highlights of my week when I’m able to spend time with you. Good luck today! Can’t wait to see you soon.”

My mood brightened from her note and to pass the time, I logged into work and worked until Brett arrived. After he glanced at my short, pleated skirt, he remarked, “Nice outfit, Mom. At first, I wasn’t thrilled about you being friends with Professor Brown, but her influence has been incredibly positive for you. I promise I won’t complain about you two again.”

“Thanks, Brett,” I replied warmly, genuinely touched by his acceptance. It felt wonderful to have his approval of my friendship with his professor, lifting a weight off my shoulders.

On the drive over, I reviewed the prior interviews and felt confident that I was ready to act as if I were my son’s lover. That is, until the mother opened the door to invite us in. She was a buxom blonde, her large, braless tits pressing against her thin blouse, her areolas distinctly displayed.

Brett’s gaze mirrored mine as we gawked at her magnificent rack. Breaking us out of our trance, the woman introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Roxie. When you’re done staring at my tits, we can start.”

Our faces flushed pink from being caught red-handed. Brett apologized, “Sorry about that. Sometimes my eyes have a mind of their own, especially when they encounter a beautiful woman.”

“Quite alright,” Roxie replied. “I’m used to it and actually enjoy teasing young men, but it isn’t often that a woman is attracted to them, as your mother appears to be.” She smiled widely at me and I shifted my weight nervously as I thought back to Jennifer’s tube top and how I wanted to paw at her breasts.

I extended my hand and said, “Glad to meet you, Roxie. I’m Aria, Brett’s mother, and like my son, I have trouble concealing my appreciation of a lovely lady.”

“Isn’t that something? Mother and son, both flatterers,” she stated, giggling. She led us to the living room where Brett and I sat on the couch with her opposite us. My nervousness increased as the interview progressed, fearing the moment she would describe the turning point of their relationship.

Her fabulous breasts would inevitably be the cause and I pictured how it would turn out if she demanded to see how Brett intimately touched me. “Would I be willing to act and allow him to grope me in front of the woman?” I asked myself, unsure if I could go through it.

I held my breath when Brett asked her the question I had dreaded would come.

She took a deep breath and related her story. “As with you two, my son’s fascination with my breasts began after I hugged him tightly on his eighteenth birthday. From then on, I teased him by not wearing a bra and embracing him whenever I could. One morning, I slept in late and dashed out to the kitchen, still dressed in my nightie, to prepare breakfast. While I faced the stove, cooking eggs, he came up behind me and grabbed my sides, his fingers digging into my flesh while he kissed my neck.”

When I sucked in my breath, a shrill whistle sounded, surprising me and stopping Roxie. The fact that she was describing my weekend fantasy made my heart race, while my pussy filled with warm juice. “Sorry, I accidentally inhaled a little too deeply. Please continue,” I apologized.

She continued, “It was a nice feeling when his strong hands held me, but when they moved upward, my breath stopped. I didn’t know how far I should allow him to continue before stopping him, but when his hands bumped against the bottoms of my breasts, I knew there was no limit. Once he cupped my breasts, a wave of joy flowed through me as I’d never felt before. The thin, silky material of my nightie didn’t lessen the effect of his fingertips squeezing my nipples. It excited me so much, that I turned around, kissed him, and drug him to the floor, where he pounded my pussy for the first time. Ever since, it’s been our favorite morning ritual.”

My pussy throbbed while my nipples filled with blood becoming hard as rocks, envisioning Brett doing the same to me. I vowed to wear thicker panties the next time as I feared my thin, silky ones wouldn’t soak up all my juices and leak onto my skirt. My mind descended deep into my fantasy, my head filled with images of Brett making love to me.

Unknowingly, Roxie had continued and had asked me about the first time Brett grabbed my breasts. Suddenly, her voice sharply rang out, “Aria!” jolting me out of my dream. Unsure of how to answer, I struggled for words.

Roxie’s demeanor turned sour as she stated, “Your shocked expression leads me to believe Brett hasn’t touched your breasts.”

Knowing I had blown it, I attempted to recover and stuttered, “Not exactly, but we’re still in love with each other.”

Roxie’s angry expression confirmed my suspicions that I had ruined the interview.

“I don’t feel comfortable going into details of my relationship with people who haven’t experienced the same. I no longer wish to continue. Please leave,” she abruptly ordered, her voice signaling her disgust at being misled.

She led us outside, the door slamming shut behind us. A wave of guilt and sorrow washed over me as I realized the impact of my actions. Both Brett and Jennifer would suffer because of me.

On the ride home, Brett remained silent. When he dropped me off, he said, “I have some things to attend to at school, Mom. I’ll grab a bite there and be home later.”

His disappointed expression spoke volumes, and once again, I threw myself into my work to distract myself from the situation. When it was time to retire for the night, I heard his car pull up and decided to wait in the living room to discuss it with him.

He walked in and, upon seeing me, his face softened with regret. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he said quietly. “I really thought I’d be home sooner.”

“It’s alright, Brett. I feel terrible for ruining your interview today and know how disappointed you must be in me. It was inexcusable to let you down when you needed support the most. I don’t know how I can make it up to you,” I apologized, struggling to hold back tears. My voice cracked, and his expression softened as he witnessed my distress.

“No, Mom,” he retorted with a deep sense of guilt. “It’s I who should apologize. I should’ve never put you in such an uncomfortable position. It was selfish and thoughtless of me to involve you in such a stressful situation. When I talk to Professor Brown tomorrow, I’ll inform her that we won’t be continuing.”

“I volunteered for this project and don’t regret it one bit,” I replied. “You have nothing to apologize for, but whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’m exhausted. I’m going to take a shower and hit the sack,” he said, his voice heavy with fatigue.

I felt a little better knowing Brett wasn’t angry with me, but I still dreaded Thursday’s meeting with Jennifer. Feeling too depressed to change out of my robe after Brett left for college, I moped around the house during the slower moments of work. Halfway through the morning, I faced the inevitable and texted Jennifer, “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel like going out today. I hope you understand.”

After an hour passed without a reply, my heart sank. The fear of losing Jennifer as a friend weighed heavily on me, though I knew I couldn’t blame her if she chose to distance herself. At noon, while I sat at the kitchen table contemplating what to eat, the doorbell chimed.

When I opened the door and saw Jennifer’s smiling face, I immediately felt a wave of relief. Maybe there was a slim chance that she’d forgive me.

“Hi, Aria. Come with me, I have something for you,” Jennifer insisted.

“I’m still dressed in my robe. Let me go change first,” I protested.

“No time. Just throw on a coat. We’re heading to my house,” she said firmly.

Knowing I was treading on thin ice, I agreed, grabbed a long coat from my closet, and after slipping it over my robe, I followed her out to her car.

During the drive, the feelings of betrayal to my best friend returned. “Jennifer, I know you’re disappointed in me and I’d like...”

Abruptly interrupting me, Jennifer ordered, “Not now, Aria. Wait until we arrive at my house. We’ll talk there.”

Her tone didn’t convey anger, but it lacked her usual joy, leaving me uncertain about where I stood with her. By the time we pulled into her garage, my nerves were on edge. As soon as we stepped into her house, the enticing aroma of cooking enveloped us.

“Throw your coat on the couch and take a seat in the kitchen,” Jennifer instructed, leading the way.

My fears dissolved when I noticed two glasses of wine on the table. I sat down, and my smile widened as Jennifer pulled a large, cheese pizza out of the oven and set it on a pizza stand in the center of the table.

“You remembered,” I said, pleasantly surprised.

“Of course,” Jennifer replied. “It’s also my go-to remedy for a bad day.” Her cute smile and giggle immediately lifted my spirits.

“Careful, it’s still hot,” she warned when I began sliding a slice of pizza onto my plate. Holding her glass up, she toasted, “Here’s to friendship, which is stronger than any misunderstanding or obstacle that comes our way.”

“Cheers to that!” I replied with a laugh, as we clinked our glasses together. After taking a sip, I remarked, “Wow, this wine is tasty. It’s going to pair perfectly with our pizza.”

“Thanks, it’s one of my favorites,” she noted with a smile. “It’s from a little winery located in the Russian River Valley.”

We chatted for a bit until the pizza had cooled enough to eat. It was delicious, and by the time we finished, both the pizza and wine had completely lifted my spirits and satisfied my appetite.

Pushing my chair back, I said, “I haven’t eaten this much in a long time. Thank you so much, Jennifer. I feel so much better now.”

“Let’s move to the couch and let it settle,” Jennifer suggested.

Noticing the empty bottle and glasses, I asked, “Do you happen to have any more of that delicious wine?”

“Of course,” Jennifer replied with a grin. “Take a seat and I’ll bring it in. It’s so much fun to let loose with friends once in a while.”

After a few sips, Jennifer turned to me and explained, “When I talked to Brett on Wednesday, I sensed something was off. He was acting a little hinky, and when you texted me today, I knew there was more to the story.”

“What’d he tell you?” I asked, my confusion growing.

“He described his interaction with Roxie,” Jennifer explained. “He said he halted the interview because he didn’t feel it was appropriate to demonstrate such an intimate act in her presence. He asked permission to discontinue any further interviews, so as not to further embarrass you.”

My heart skipped a beat, knowing Brett had lied to protect me. I felt bad that he had sacrificed himself for my benefit. I vowed to ensure his success, so the first item would be setting the record straight.

“That’s not exactly how it happened,” I stated. “During her description of her son’s actions, my mind drifted into some kind of trance and when she asked us to show her how Brett touched me, she misunderstood my blank stare as shock and stopped the interview, suspecting we weren’t lovers. She was so upset that neither of us could convince her otherwise.”

“That certainly sounds more plausible,” Jennifer noted. “It’s sweet that Brett protected you, but it wasn’t necessary. I would have understood completely. It’s one thing to act as lovers, touching legs and light kissing, but fondling your mother’s breasts is a little overboard. It was just one interview. I tried to persuade him to continue, but he expressed uncertainty about whether you would agree to it. So, it seems you can expect a conversation with him sometime soon.”

“Thanks,” I replied, feeling relieved now that everything was out in the open. “I was determined to do whatever it took to assist him. Allowing him to feel my breasts might not be that horrific. After all, I was wearing a bra so it wouldn’t be like he’d be grabbing my bare breasts.” I nervously giggled, hinting at my desire for Brett to fondle me.

“If I may ask, what caused your mind to wander during Roxie’s description?” Jennifer queried.

I don’t know if it was the wine talking or my desire to be completely honest with my best friend, but I truthfully explained, “It hit too close to home. For the last several months, on the weekends, Brett has approached me while I stand at the stove cooking. He grips my sides and kisses my neck, his way of greeting me. When Roxie described the exact same thing, my heart raced as to what it would feel like if Brett did the same by raising his hands to cup my breasts. It’s just a silly fantasy, but it overtook my concentration.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Jennifer chirped. “She was living out your fantasy. Finish your wine and follow me. I want to try something.”

Having spilled my guts, I eagerly gulped down the last of my wine, placed my glass on the counter, and walked down to her bedroom, curious as to what she had in mind.

When I entered, I found her sorting through her closet. Finding what she was looking for, she pulled off a couple of garments, and turned to me, holding up two nighties. “Let’s slip these on and we’ll re-enact the scene to see what it feels like.”

Normally, I’d be uncomfortable dressing so provocatively in front of another woman, but her lustful smile matched my horniness. I grabbed the blue one and said, “I love this one and the pink one will complement your green eyes. I’ll change in the bathroom.”

“Perfect!” Jennifer quipped. “I’ll change here and wait for you.”

After I removed my skirt and blouse, I stood in front of her full-length mirror and smiled at the shapely body reflecting back at me. After slipping on her nightie, I modeled it and was pleasantly surprised by how nice it felt. The button-down front and silk belt held it snugly to my body. My pink silky bra and panties were barely visible beneath the thin material.

When I opened the door, my eyes scanned Jennifer’s sexy body, her bare breasts clearly visible through her thin nightwear. They were as proud and perky as I had imagined.

“From your dazed look, I take it you approve or is it the wine?” she asked, giggling at my ogling.

“You’re absolutely stunning,” I said in awe.

Walking over to my backside, her hands gripped my sides. “Is this how he held you?” she asked, her voice laced with lust.

“A little firmer. I can actually feel each of his fingers press into my flesh before he pecks me on the neck,” I described.

When I felt her hot breath on my neck, her fingers dug in before she kissed my neck. My breath sucked in as she mirrored Brett’s actions.

“You’re so tense,” Jennifer noted. “Relax and enjoy my touch as if it was him. Imagine him doing the same as Roxie’s son.”

Her hands crept higher and when they bumped against the underside of my bra, she whispered into my ear, “It’s not quite right. Roxie was braless.”

She unsnapped me, not allowing the nightie to inhibit her. She quickly pulled my straps off and allowed my bra to slip down, landing on my feet. Her hands wrapped around my ribs and ascended until they cupped my breasts.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” she asked, her breath as rapid as mine.

“Yes, it’s really good,” I managed to utter while my breasts heaved in her squeezing hands. When her fingertips found my erect nipples, I bleated, “Oh!”

“That’s my Achilles’ heel too,” she croaked. “Twisting my nipples drives me nuts.”

If she were to continue, my soaked pussy would soil my panties. Tossing my inhibitions aside, I pulled her arms off and maneuvered behind her. Gripping her sides, I whispered, “Let me show you how it feels, but you have to imagine it’s one of your male students making a pass at you while you’re facing your chalkboard.”

“Oh, kinky,” she exclaimed. “I love a good fantasy.”

I squeezed and groped my way up her body much faster than she had done to me. I was anxious to hold her fantastic tits. When I cupped her mounds, she moaned. After squeezing and exploring her breasts, my fingers clamped onto her turgid tips. Repeating her actions, I twisted and pulled her sensitive nubs, resulting in a symphony of moans and groans. When I kissed her neck, I gripped her tips and pulled her breasts outward.

Suddenly, she removed my hands and pranced to her nightside table. Opening the top drawer, she pulled out a life-like dildo, handed it to me, and begged, “You have to help me finish. I’m so fucking horny, I’m going crazy.”

Before I could answer, she shucked her nightie, pulled off her panties, and plopped onto her bed, her legs wide open. Her juicy pussy and engorged lips matched my own excited state. Her perfectly trimmed landing patch matched her golden hair.

Without hesitation, I lowered myself to the bed, held the dildo by the fake balls and shoved it into her horny hole.

“Ah! God, that feels good. Fuck me fast and suck on my nipples,” she pleaded.

We were both beyond any veneer of timidity or shyness, our horny bodies commanding our actions. My mouth latched onto her areola as my hand squeezed her other meaty tit.

Her legs and body shook with excitement as I fucked my beautiful, sexy friend. Knowing from my own experience of what would bring her off, my thumb slid across her puffy clit each time the dildo hit bottom. Her body thrashed as she wailed with delight. After another dozen pumps, I felt her stiffening as her juice spilled out and soaked my hand, wrapped around the dildo’s base.

“I’m cumming hard. Bite my nipples and finish me. It’s so fucking good!” she screamed.

Abiding by her wishes, I clamped onto her tip while continuing to tease her clit. Her orgasm strengthened as her pussy strangled the fake prick lodged deeply in her quivering pussy.

When her body relaxed, I eased off and rose enough to admire her bliss-filled face. I knew exactly how she felt, enjoying the same sense of serenity after an explosive climax, although mine was the result of my fantasies involving my son.

“Thank you so much,” she softly spoke. “That was unbelievable.”