Copyright© 2005

A lady with features cherubic
Was famed for her area pubic.
When they asked her its size
She replied in surprise,
"Are you speaking of square feet, or cubic?"

Waking to the pain-filled glare of the mid-morning light streaming through a crack in my blinds was not something I enjoyed experiencing. Not when my head felt twice the size and ten times as heavy as normal from the drinking I had done the night before.

I do remember going out to that pub, dancing with a host of guys and generally having fun. But as is often the case in my life these last years, things became confused and eventually simply blank. I obviously made it home to my own bed, which was not always the case I admit.

With stiff hands, I pulled the thick warm goose feathered duvet up to my chin and clenched my eyes tight. I knew from experience that the spinning vision would soon stop, the pain from the light decreasing to an uncomfortable roar.

I was naked, I realized.

Had I made my own way home last night or had someone accompanied me... again?

God, please don't let some big hairy ugly guy be sleeping behind me!

Again!

My natural inquisitive nature did not, this time, overpower the pain and nausea to look to see if I was, indeed, alone.

My sex had that familiar dullness about it, I realized with personal disappointment.

So I had met and had sex with someone last night! Will I never learn? My mother was right - I would amount to nothing.

Alcohol was not the best crutch but it did allow me to forget for a short while and to let go and just have fun. Unfortunately that meant I sometimes woke up with a gorilla beside me. Was that so much worse than waking up to the same man you thought you loved for nearly fifteen years, only to have him tell you that he does not love or lust after you any longer? It was a toss-up which caused me to feel more humiliated, more used.

Taking a deep breath I opened my eyes enough to squint at my naturally sun-lite room. Moving my head slowly I saw that I as alone.

Thank god! No awkward introductions, embarrassing revelations or simply the need to kick the stranger out of my bed and home.

Clenching my eyes shut I let out a thankful sigh. There is no mistaking it, I had sex the night before but the guy must have rushed off after getting his rocks off. Again, nothing new there. Probably married as well - another loveless marriage, I thought with malicious humour.

My hand slips down between my soft naked thighs and I could feel the dried evidence upon my skin and matting my public hair together. Moving the hand between the duvet and the bed sheet I feel yet more evidence, the crusty still damp areas where I had been well ploughed the night before.

Lots of juices this time - we must have enjoyed ourselves.

Ironic isn't it? I need to drink to have fun and then afterwards I can't even remember if I did, in fact, have fun?

This time the light only hurt in the very back of my skull as I carefully opened my encrusted eyes. What a sight I must be!

Not my proudest moment. Thank the maker that I was alone!

With my tired eyes open I look about the very messy room as if another person lived here. The overflowing cosmetic table, the dusty full height mirror, the cluttered closet filled with years of clothing most of which fit the woman I had been ten years before.

There was even a faint sent of him still in the air. Masculine, not all together as disgusting as many men that had I had woken with.

The scent upon my sheets, on my pillows and even filling the air of my room was not just him I realized with a short laugh.

Yes, I must have had fun last night!

To be honest, most of the time that I wake with a man, I know I had simply endured and had not enjoyed. My body knows - the evidence backing it up. This morning is different - I knew why my abdominal, buttock and inner thigh muscles were slightly sore, why much of the secretions I had found so far was probably my own - I had an orgasm the night before. Possibly more than one.

I wonder how that felt. I kid you not! I don't recall ever climaxing during intercourse. Not with my ex-husband that is for certain. Only time I was assured of an orgasm was with my own hand and that caused me to feel that age-old guilt that my mother had ingrained into me as a pubescent teenager. It felt nearly as humiliating as if waking next to a stranger I thought grimly.

Both hands slip up beneath the duvet to my breasts and held them tenderly. Obviously they had been deliciously abused the night before, they were still sensitive to the touch!

Where were my clothes? I hope I hadn't removed them in a public place again! Or given parts to some strangers, as if trophies! I had lost more panties or stockings in this way that I sometimes ask myself why bother even donning these before I step out for my nights.

I still did though. Those thigh high stockings helped this old woman advertise that she still has something to offer - even if that something is well past its prime. Without embellishing, I am a softly curved forty-something year-old woman. Oh sure the legs still look good, especially in those sheer stockings and the short skirts I liked to wear. It was my breasts that caused the most attention in the guys and I must admit I teased them constantly. From the low cut clothing showing my voluptuous cleavage to dancing to music I hated only so that the guys will stare at me and my chest as it bounced wildly. Unfortunately, get my clothing off and the breasts sagged and my legs simply looked heavy - and so I had seen that repugnance in more than one male set of eyes when I woke up to my temporary nameless lovers.

A Senior Account Executive by day, a trollop by night - thats me! Put a few drinks into me and I become the life of the party - the one that all the boys want to get friendly with.

I hate my life.

The dullness between my legs makes me think that I was shagged good and hard last night - thats the only time that my body reacts this way. Not for the first time I wished I could remember how fun it had been to be properly fucked!

The creak of my old house's floorboards caused me to come out of my introspection to realize that the guy I brought home last night may not have returned to his wife after all! Definite steps coming up the stairs, slowly and carefully, moving towards my closed door.

Self consciously I roll onto my back, cross my ankles and held up the duvet right beneath my chin as if a shield. My heart started to thump almost loudly in my chest as I awaited my first sight of the man that had bedded me so finely hours before.

Fumbling with the old door handle, something rattling - sounds like a fork.

The dear must have been making us breakfast! Now that is truly a first in my long experience with guys.

The darkened brass handle of the door turns and squeaks and then the door is kicked open gently.

My heart stops and my eyes widen and stop blinking. There grinning in the entrance to my room is my son Gary - wearing nothing but a tray of food in his hands and nothing else.

"You're awake mom. Good!" He smirks and steps in.

Oh my god! What had I done? What had we done?

Was my mother right - is there a hell? If so, I am assured of that destination in the after life.

My eyes see all as if in slow motion and are unconsciously drawn to the circumcised penis between Gary's legs, swinging back and forth hypnotically.

Good god its beautiful!

Even soft its... no wonder my vagina is dull if that had been pounding in and out of me a few hours ago! Just looking at it, I feel myself clench those inner muscle in uncontrolled excitement.

My son sets the tray of food down on the floor beside my bed - it being the only clear space for it, as the dresser and cosmetic table are overflowing.

And look at his ass - perfect in all respects!

Another spasm between my legs... up inside me.

Oh god - this can't be happening!

Gary lowers down and sits at the edge of the bed and without hesitating leans over and kisses my lips. I sit silent and frozen, still stunned, shocked and even a little horrified. When his tongue slips past my unmoving lips he suddenly pulls back and makes a puckered face, "You need to brush mom."

I feel myself blink, as if for the first time since my son's entrance, in response to his comment. It was spoken playfully but his action was so casually done, as if we had been intimate for years rather than... I can not even tell myself what had obviously been done between us.

My eyes again look down between his thighs, that beautiful penis laying lazily along one thigh.

Gary sits up and looks at me with a frown, "You don't remember do you?"

Am I that transparent? My mouth opens but nothing comes out.

He chuckles briefly and explains, "I thought you might forget but you promised me you would not... could not forget last night."

My head is moving back and forth upon my shoulders but my open mouth is silent. This can not be happening! I am just not that kind of woman!