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This is the last episode in this series. I will continue to write about Joey and his Mom and the life adventures they share in the future, as time permits. Each of those pieces will stand separately with this story as the background. Thanks so much for reading! All characters in this story are over 18.
I sat on the couch in our family room sipping a small shot of bourbon over crushed ice, paying half-attention to a ‘Friends’ re-run on the T.V. while Mom was getting ready for our celebratory dinner at the Buckhorn Exchange. After our shower I had dressed quickly in a pair of khakis, a pinstriped, button-down shirt, and Sperry loafers. Mom was taking over an hour to get ready. At that moment I was glad that I was a man.
I had a lot on my mind, feeling very unsettled from suddenly learning that I was wealthy earlier in the day. At the same time, my mind was swimming with the possibilities in front of me. I was ecstatically happy on one hand, but my Spidey-sense was telling me that there were great pitfalls to suddenly coming into money, and I needed to use all my super-powers to move forward in a sensible way. I thought to myself that Mom could help me with that. She was accustomed to her wealth and lived a normal life. I wanted that.
The holiday season hadn’t quite started and I had been fortunate to get a 6:30 reservation for dinner at the Buckhorn on short notice. There was a light-rail station right across the street from the restaurant, so we decided we’d park at the structure near us and ride the light-rail in. Denver has such a great public transportation system.
Exactly at the time I had asked her to be ready, 5:45 pm, Mom appeared. My jaw dropped when she walked into the room. She was wearing a tight, black cocktail dress that had some kind of luminescent thread sewn in that sparkled in the light. It was sleeveless, but rode high up to her neck, exposing her bare arms, and profiling the luscious shape of her ample breasts. It clung tightly to her stomach and hips, and ended at mid-thigh. It was the kind of dress that begged to be taken off by a man. Her outfit was topped off by black pumps with 4″ stiletto heels.
Her shoulder-length blonde hair was perfectly half-tousled, half-arranged. She had put on makeup, which she rarely did, and her blue eyes seemed to shine out of her face, while her painted red lips were full, sensuous, and inviting. Toned arms, legs super-defined in her 4″ heels, Mom was a knock-out.
And as beautiful as I had come to realize that Mom was, I saw her in a completely different light yet again. She was a beautiful, classy, confident woman who could move easily in any circle. Again, I felt blessed.
“Wow!” I said, as I took in the full picture of my beautiful mother. “You look absolutely stunning!”
“I’m not wearing any underwear,” she announced curtly as she transferred her wallet from her normal Coach purse to her tiny black clutch. Then she looked over to me and smiled sweetly. “I hope you’ll take advantage of me tonight if I have too much to drink.”
Completely devoid of a witty comeback to that, I gestured towards the front door. “We’d better be going,” was about the only thing I could come up with.
I drove Mom’s Mazda the three miles to the Light Rail Station and found a parking spot easily. We boarded the train before 6:00, which gave us plenty of time to make our reservation. Mom seemed nervous on the train, looking around frequently. I realized that she was searching for a dreaded familiar face; someone from the Golf Club or from her former life who might see her out with this younger man, dressed to kill.
“Relax,” I whispered in her ear. “It’s just dopers going downtown to score and nannies and housekeepers going home from the suburbs on this train.” I put my arm around her. “Nobody’s going to recognize you.”
I felt her relax and lean into me. I held her, cuddling and reassuring her on the entire ride in. Every time we arrived at a stop, the doors would open, and she would tense up, afraid that a familiar face might board the train. Her hand wasn’t near my crotch, teasing me, as it had been a couple of weeks ago on the train on the way home from the ball game. Evidently reality had fully intruded on our paradise.
Our stop finally arrived, and we jumped off the train. Sad-looking mothers with small, unkempt children waited to board as we disembarked. Again, I felt blessed to be living the life I was living.
We walked the 20 yards across the street to the front door of the Buckhorn. It was a dilapidated brick building, over 120 years old. We entered the narrow foyer where an older gentleman, thick in the waist and butt, sat over a table-top podium staring into a reservation book.
“Two for Joe,” I said as I walked up.
“Wait is two hours,” he replied in a thick accent. “You can go to bar.”
“I made a reservation about three hours ago,” I said, moving closer to his podium and trying to peer over the top at his book. “Two for Joe, or Joey, at 6:30.”
“Six-thirty taksim escort for Joey, let me see,” he said as he studied the reservation book intently. “I see here. Is 6:15 now, go to bar, we call you.” Was he incompetent or canny? I couldn’t decipher which.
“And you’ll call us up there?” I asked, worried that he just might be incompetent.
“We call you, Mr. Joey. No worry.”
Mom and I walked up the creaky stairs to the bar. There was a 2-piece band playing at the far end of the room. They weren’t very good.
Now in the middle of a bustling, modern downtown, the Buckhorn Exchange had started as a restaurant sometime in the 1890’s in this building. It remains as one of the last vestiges of the Denver that existed when Cattlemen ruled the high desert and Denver was the center-point for Cattlemen, Sheep Herders, Prospectors, and Snake-Oil Salesmen. There are over 100 mounted wild animal heads on the walls, peering down on diners. It was one of Big Joey’s favorite places in the world.
Mom ordered a cosmopolitan, up, and I noticed a bottle of Breckinridge Bourbon on the back bar. A small craft distillery had started up in the old mining town of Breckinridge, west of Denver. Now known for its ski mountain, I thought they made better bourbon than ski runs. I ordered a Breckinridge Manhattan, straight up, no cherry. The sour-faced woman bartender served our drinks and attempted a smile as she did.
People coming up the stairs and into the bar jostled by our backs as Mom and I sipped our drinks.
“So how are you feeling about finding out you’re rich?” Mom shouted at me above the din of the duo and the bar-goers who were trying to talk over them.
“Okay, I guess,” was my reply, although it didn’t reflect any of the conflict I was feeling. “Kind of blown-away.” I shrugged.
“You’ll be fine,” Mom shouted at me. “We’ll work through it together!”
Mom downed her drink and I raised my index finger to the bartender. When she saw me, I pointed at Mom’s empty glass and mouthed “One more.”
The bartender delivered Mom’s second drink just as the singer went into a horrible rendition of “Your Cheating Heart” by Hank Williams. I sipped my Breckinridge Manhattan and waited for our name to be called, not wanting to have to yell at Mom to communicate.
Another five minutes passed and the singer had started mangling a George Jones song when a cute young gal came up the stairs and called out, “Joey for 2.” I motioned to her and stood.
I dropped a couple of twenties on the bar and told the bartender to keep the rest. Mom stood, picked up her stemmed glass, put it up to her lips, leaned back, and drained it. I had never seen my mother drunk, but I thought this might be the night.
The young woman escorted us to our table downstairs and we sat down, settling ourselves at the table, surrounded by the dead animals peering at us.
“This was Big Joey’s favorite restaurant!” Mom blurted out, and I realized that the alcohol was hitting her. Our waiter showed up with hot bread and asked if we’d like a cocktail or wine.
“Cosmo,” said Mom. “Straight up!” The waiter looked at me and I nodded assent.
“Coming right up,” he said politely and backed away from the table. When we were alone, I brought up what was on my mind.
“I want to go back to Houston, move out of my apartment, then come back here and go back to school,” I told her.
“That sounds great, honey!” Mom slurred slightly. “We can make a fun trip of it after Thanksgiving.”
“We’ll fly down,” I continued, “then drive back in my car. All I want to bring back is my clothes, TV, Play Station, and a few personal items. They should all fit in my Yukon.”
We sat and chit-chatted about the trip and planning how we’d dispose of my furniture, settling on a donation to Goodwill. I had made the drive many times, but Mom usually flew when she came to visit. I could make it in just under 15 hours, but with Mom I’d split it up into two days.
The waiter came and I ordered the Buffalo Prime Rib and Mom ordered the Venison, and another Cosmo. I asked for a glass of Pinot Noir with my steak.
Mom continued to sip her Cosmo through the bread and salad course, then ordered a glass of wine with dinner. I thought I’d better limit myself to two drinks, even though the drive from the parking structure home was only a few miles.
Dinner was great, but by the time we finished Mom was pretty sloshed. I supported her when we walked across the street to the light-rail station, and when we stopped to wait for the train, Mom looked around before stepping in front of me, moving in close, and then locking me in a sloppy, wet, open-mouthed kiss.
“I want you to take me home and fuck me,” she said quietly, pulling away. “You make me so hot!” The train pulled up and I helped Mom up the steps.
“You sit here,” she said, pointing to a side-seat that was parallel to the wall of the train. “And I’ll sit across from you.” She giggled and took a seat with its back against the opposite çapa escort wall.
I wasn’t sure what the deal was, but I went ahead and sat where she asked. I looked across at Mom and as the train began moving, she looked slowly around the almost-empty train car. Then I realized why she asked me to sit across from her.
While still glancing casually around the train and out the window, but without looking at me, she slowly began to spread her legs apart. Little by little her dress crept up her legs as the gap widened. She wasn’t looking at me, but I had laser focus between her knees.
Her legs kept slowly spreading and with each inch I could see further up the inside of her thigh. Slowly she let me see further and further up. Within a few drawn-out moments, her bare pussy came into view, in the shadows, her slit clearly visible. She didn’t stop there, though. Her legs kept going and her dress kept riding up until it was bunched around her waist, and her bare cunt was completely exposed in the fluorescent light of the train car.
Still casually looking around, she brought her hand to her pussy and slid it up her slit. Her fingertips came away wet and glistening in the harsh light. Then casually, she brought her hand up to her mouth and slipped her index finger into it. “Mmmm,” she purred quietly. Her hand went back down to her cunt and she started tracing slow circles around her clit. Her legs were spread about as far as they could go.
She stopped circling her clit and started rubbing the lips of her pussy. I saw her middle finger disappear inside her and heard her low moan again. My cock was pointing down, straining against my pant legs as it grew hard. I didn’t want to break the spell of the moment my standing to adjust it.
Mom’s wet finger slid out of her, and with it she began flicking at her clit. Side to side, then up and down, she pushed on her clit, then let her finger quickly slide across it. Her eyes were closed, now, her breathing uneven and heavy. Then we both felt the train slowing down. We were coming to another stop.
As the train slowed down, Mom withdrew her hand from her pussy, closed her legs, and lowered her dress back down to mid-thigh. Just before the train stopped one of the two other riders stood and walked towards the exit. The other had his back to us. I was looking forward to the rest of the show.
But, just as the doors were about to close a middle-aged man in a business suit boarded and walked to the rear of the train car. Putting his briefcase down on the seat nearest the window in the back row, he sat next to it, facing us.
As the train doors closed I saw Mom glancing his way. I hoped in her inebriated state that he wouldn’t assume she was flirting with him. I knew that she was calculating how much he could see from where he was sitting.
As the train started moving, Mom slid over on her seat, as far as she could on it towards the back of the train. Nice move, I thought to myself. The back of the seat to her right would shield the lower part of her body from his view. As the train picked up speed, so did Mom.
Still looking vacantly around the train and out the window, she spread her legs again, making her dress ride up. I could see the moisture forming at her opening, glistening in her bald cunt in the harsh light. Gazing out the window, she let her hand drift down between her legs and started absently playing with her pussy again. She moved her fingertips up and down her slit and rubbed slow circles around her clit.
I glanced back towards the businessman in the rear, and it was obvious that he was oblivious to what she was doing, fiddling with his phone. I went back to watching Mom fiddle with herself. She glanced back as well and, seeing that the man was busy with his phone, brought her fingers up to her mouth again and sucked them between her lips. I could see her tongue licking them inside her mouth.
Glancing back again, she dropped her hand to her breast and squeezed her braless nipple a couple of times, making it stand out straight and proud in her black dress. Her hand dropped back down into her lap and she went back to lazily playing with her cunt. Her legs were splayed open as far as they would go.
I was hard as a rock watching my mother expose herself on the train car and masturbate. I shifted in my seat, reaching down quickly and adjusting my cock so it was pointing straight up in my pants. It was becoming painful for it to be constrained, pointing down. Mom seemed not to notice as her eyes closed and she picked up speed rubbing her clit.
I was wondering if she was going to make herself cum when the train slowed down again. As it drew to a stop, Mom closed her legs again, pulled her dress down, and sat very primly and proper as a group of teenagers boarded the train.
Unfortunately, they sat right there with us, and Mom’s exhibitionist show came to an end. When the train started moving again, Mom moved across the aisle and sat next to me, slipping her arm through mine. It bakırköy escort was obvious that the kids were high, and their conversation entertained me for the rest of the trip to our stop.
I helped Mom off the train and as soon as we were away from it she said under her breath, “God, I want to cum so bad right now.”
I leaned my head over and said, “I can help you with that.” She reached over and gave my dick a squeeze, right there in the parking garage.
“I know you can, Joe,” she answered. “I can hardly wait.”
But she did wait, and when we got home I helped her to our room. She was still pretty drunk, but definitely not sloshed like she had been before. I wondered if alcohol acted like truth serum with Mom and I decided I’d find out.
We went in and brushed our teeth, and when we came back into the bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed as Mom stripped naked in front of me, taking her time pulling off her dress. I could tell that she was enjoying that I was watching.
“Would you like me to put on some music for you to strip by?” I asked, laughing.
Mom’s speech was still a little bit slurred when she said, “I have to get naked for my little Joey-boy.”
Her striptease didn’t last long, as she was wearing only her dress. When she was naked, she moved towards me. I took her into my arms and pulled her to me, burying my head in her breasts.
“Make me cum, Joey,” she said as she stroked my hair.
“Lay down, Mom,” I answered and moved aside. She crawled past me onto the bed and lay with her head on the pillow, naked and lovely. I stood and unbuttoned my shirt and took it off. I kicked off my loafers and dropped my pants and underwear in one motion. When I was naked I lay next to Mom and started lightly stroking her body with my fingertips.
“So Mom,” I started.
“Hm, honey?” she responded, enjoying the sensations I was giving her.
“Some things you said the other night have got me thinking.”
“Like what, honey. What did I say?” she murmured.
I brushed my fingertips across her nipples and she gave a slight groan of approval.
“Like you said when Dad and you did it in the back door, you’d put a vibrating dildo on your clit and in your pussy.” I drew a lazy line with my fingertips down to her mons, lightly rubbing around her most sensitive parts, but not touching them.
“I probably did say that,” she answered softly. I traced my fingers ever so lightly down and up her labia.
“So you like using vibrators and dildos?” I asked, tracing back up her stomach and around her boobs.
“I do,” she said and smiled. “Although that’s a pretty personal question.”
“Well, I was just wondering if you still have a dildo,” I answered with no hesitation. I lightly tweaked her nipple and she inhaled suddenly when I did.
“I do, sweetie,” she smiled again. I thought she was enjoying this game.
“Where do you keep it?” I asked.
“I keep it in a safe place with all my dainties,” she giggled as I tweaked her other nipple.
“With your underwear?” I probed.
“Mmmm, yes, sweetie. Nice and safe all these years from a little boy’s prying eyes.” She moaned when I pinched and pulled on her nipple.
I got off the bed and went to her dresser. On the second try I found her underwear drawer and began running my hand around between her silky, lacy underthings. My hand hit something hard and plastic.
I removed the pile of folded panties and saw not one, but two dildos laying on a clean washcloth at the bottom of the pile. The first was just a plain old ivory-colored cylindrical plastic vibrating dildo, tapered at one end for easy insertion.
The other was quite a contraption. It was made from some kind of rubber or silicon, and was shaped like a very large man’s cock. It was skin-toned and very detailed, even showing the veins on the side and the mushroom-shaped head. Protruding from the top in a curve pointing forward was an appendage that I instantly surmised was designed to go against the clit when the fake cock was up inside a cunt. I thought to myself that this must be a “rabbit” that I’d heard about.
“Joey, come back,” Mom whined from the bed. “I thought you were going to make me cum!”
“I’m coming, Mom,” I said, turning with a dildo in each hand. “And so will you be soon.”
I got back up on the bed and started with the plastic dildo. I turned the base and put it on a low vibrate. Mom opened her eyes when she heard the vibrator start.
“Well, look what you found,” she said, her eyes still bleary from the alcohol. She spread her legs apart.
I placed the vibrator flat on one side of Mom’s pussy, not touching any sensitive parts, but letting the vibrations travel over the entire area. It turned me on to see the dildo against her bare cunt.
“Mmmmmm,” Mom cooed. “That feels good.” I moved it to the shaved puffy lip on the other side and kept it up.
“Mom, you also said that you and Dad used to watch porn videos, right?” I asked, letting the vibrator slide a little bit towards the center between her legs. I hoped the alcohol would open her up to my questions.
“Mmmm, yes,” she answered dreamily. I moved the vibrator up so it was just to the side of her clit, but not touching it.
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