Momma's Boys

by Just Plain Bob

Copyright© 2010 by Just Plain Bob

Erotica Sex Story: It was her husband's fault.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Cheating   .

"Come on Yvonne, you know it ain't right."

"Oh stop your whining Dion. I can't help it that you were raised a prude. I wasn't and I'm not going to become one just to suit you."

"This ain't got nothing to do with being prudish Yvonne, it's got to do with decency."

"You calling me indecent Dion?"

"I'm just saying that it ain't right. The boys are at an age when things can get misunderstood."

"The boys can misunderstand what?"

"You know Vonnie, things."

"Things Dion?"

"Well yeah Vonnie, things."

Suddenly I knew what Dion was getting at and almost as suddenly I realized that he had a valid concern.

I am a forty-five year old woman with two grown and married daughters. My mother, my daughters, even my grandmother and aunts, along with myself, have never been ashamed of our bodies and we never worried about being scantily clad in front of the men in our family. I'm not talking nudity here; we just didn't spend a lot of time covering up around the house. My father, brothers, and an occasional uncle or two have seen me nude and it was no big thing. I grew up not being ashamed of my body and not thinking it wrong to see anyone else's. When I married at nineteen I lucked out and got a guy who was a free spirit and we eventually became nudists so I've never been overly concerned about clothes, especially in my own house.

I lost Don to cancer when I was thirty-nine and I mourned him for two years. Then I started dating and four years later I met and married Dion. Dion had two sons: Phillip who was nineteen and going on twenty, and Todd who had just turned eighteen. Almost from day one Dion was on me for the way I dressed around the house and I shrugged it off. That is I shrugged it off until I finally figured out what Dion's problem was - he was afraid of what might happen - he was jealous of his sons and he was afraid that they might see the way I ran around the house as a come on. Dion was afraid they might get lucky sometime when he was wasn't around!

To understand his concern you had to go back to that period in my life when I stopped mourning Don and started dating. There is no nice way of saying it; for those four years I was an absolute slut! The last year of Don's illness had been sexless and so had the two years I'd spent in widow's weeds. When I finally decided that it was time to get on with my life I went just a little overboard. I didn't mean too, but too much to drink one night had led to some multiple partner sex and I found that I liked it. I was never what you might call a gangbang queen; never did have sex with really large groups, but three or four was pretty common. It was during that period that I met Dion.

At first he didn't appear to be anyone special. He wasn't bad looking and he was a more than adequate lover, but he was just one of many. I didn't really pay much attention to him until I started noticing that he always seemed to be one of the three or four that I ended up in bed with. One morning, after one of my rare large groups - eight I think it was - I woke up and Dion was in bed with me. That was not a normal occurrence. Usually my sessions ended around three in the morning, everyone left, and I went to bed alone, but there was Dion in my bed at nine in the morning.

"What are you doing here?"

He reached over and began rolling my left nipple between his fingers and said, "Trying to make points."

My breasts are very sensitive and I moaned and said, "Well that's certainly one way of doing it."

After a little mutual head and a slow leisurely fuck Dion took me out to breakfast. Over coffee I asked, "So, what's the deal with trying to make points?"

"I'm trying to make points because I think that you would be a perfect fit for me."

"How's that?"

"Just that the perfect woman for me has to like sex as much as you seem to."

"Sorry sweetie, but I'm not looking for anything permanent."

"Maybe not now, but maybe someday. I just want to put my oar in early."

"Just out of curiosity explain to me how you see this prospective relationship."

"Open."

"Open? What's that mean?"

"Free to play as long as you come home."

"Both sides?"

"Of course. I'm not capable of being a one-woman man, but I do need a steady, stable relationship. The woman I have that relationship with will ideally feel the same way. I think that woman is you."

"Sorry sweetie, sounds good, but I'm nowhere near being ready for something like that."

"That's okay, I'm a patient man."

He was. We did start seeing more of each other and by the end of that four year period I was ready to cut back on my activities - not eliminate, but cut back - to once or twice a month and Dion was there to talk me into an open marriage.

Surprisingly, it worked. It was like a normal marriage except that when I felt the need for more than just one cock I was free to have them. Some times with Dion and sometimes without him and he had the same freedom if he found a lady he wanted to play with. Things were just fine until I figured out what Dion's problem was with the way I dressed around the house.

It was Dion's own fault. If he had just kept his mouth shut nothing would have changed, but once a slut, always a slut and I began to see my two step-sons as prime beef and a reason to never have to leave the house to play. I told Dion that I understood where he was coming from and that I would try and be a little more circumspect. And when he was home I was. When he wasn't home and either or both of the boys were I turned into a tease. Actually I wasn't teasing; it was more along the lines of an open invitation. I left the bathroom door open when I was in the shower; I left the bedroom door open when I was dressing, I walked around the house in see-thru bra and panties and I smiled at the hardons I was producing. I did everything but flat out ask the boys to fuck me. I could tell that the boys were interested, but there were either too inexperienced or too scared to make a move. If it was going to happen, I was going to have to make it happen.

 
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