A Modern Goddess: The 8-ball bet

 

A Modern Goddess: The 8-ball bet

 

 “Cheating!?”, Mom said, a shocked expression of innocence suddenly appearing on her face. “Who, me?!”

“Honestly Steven!,” she continued indignantly. “I can’t believe you would accuse your own Mother of such a terrible thing…” Her expression absolutely exuded innocence and purity. 

Of course, this was completely countered by the fact that, over the course of our game of 8-ball, Mom had, because she was “hot”, or “uncomfortable”, or had just, “oops! Spilled a little something there”; been slowly removing more and more of her clothing. 

It all started about 4 months back. I’d turned 18, and Mom and Dad had sat me down for a talk. At first I thought it would be something embarrassing like a basic “birds and the bees” kind of thing. But it was… SO much more than that! 

They had confessed that they were swingers. They were in an open relationship, and always had been. More than that, they were kinky as fuck and anytime they’d ever “gone to a friends”, or “taken a trip”, or even sent us to a friends house to spend the night; they had actually been at, or been hosting some freaky sex party. 

It took me months to work up the courage but, I mean, come on! I was 18 and now I knew that the kinky adults in town were hosting sex parties so they could get their freak on. Of COURSE I wanted in on that!

I’d cornered Mom on it, because I so didn’t want to have that talk with my Dad. And she’d been playful, and teasing. She’d given me a hard time about it, but in a way that made me hard, horney, and trying to hide my growing sexual tension. Dad would have just been creepy. Mom was… well. Mom was confusing me if I’m being honest.

I mean, she’d always been sexy. Like, just TRY going through puberty with tits that big in the house. With those massive beauties constantly jostling and bouncing around me, there was no way that I wasn’t going to end up thinking of them 24/7. But, up to this point, I had tried to convince myself that it was just because they were big, beautiful tits. It had nothing to do with my Mom… right? 

Well, the longer Mom teased me about why I might want to go, and what I might end up seeing if I went to a sex party that she was at; the more I realized that it was about more than a magnificent cleavage line. My Mom had a black-belt in make-up, and she used it to stunning effect when it came to highlighting her lovely eyes, her full, luscious looking lips, or her stunningly attractive skin. Add to all of that her flirty personality, playful tone, and an ass that just wouldn’t quit, and well… I was suddenly very aware that my Mom was absolutely, 100% my “type”. 

Like, fuck. She was BETTER than my type! 

Anyway, after what seemed like hours of tortuous, teasing dialogue, she finally said, “Okay… I tell ya what kiddo. Let’s bet on it. You're a little better at pool than I am. So let’s play a game, and if you win, I’ll get you into that party. But if I win, you cool your jets for another six months and we can revisit this conversation then. Deal?”

It honestly seemed like a terrific fucking deal! I was thinking there was a better than 50% chance of her just saying “No”. But now, I was instead either going to get exactly what I wanted, or, worst case scenario, I was going to get another shot at it in a few months? Fuck yes!

I mean, I said it better than that. I agreed. Mom got herself a brandy, me a soda, and I wracked ‘em up while she was getting us the drinks. But, as the game went on, and it was pretty evenly matched, Mom started cheating. 

Not like, directly cheating. But she began to lean over the table in a way that really put her cleavage on display before saying semi-encouraging, deeply distracting things like, “Go on baby. Sink it in there.” 

She put on a fresh application of lipstick halfway through, and, looking at me from the side of her hand mirror she asked me, while I was deciding on a shot, if I had, “picked a hole” yet. It was little things like that. 

She’d started in clothes that she’d planned on wearing to go out dancing with a bunch of her girlfriends and, bit by bit, things had fallen to the wayside. Her coat got hung up because she was getting warm. Then her heels were throwing off her shot so she put them in the corner. After that Mom spilled something on her skirt and needed to hang it up. It went on like that, bit by fairly innocent bit for the whole game. 

Until eventually, she was standing across from me in what was basically lingerie. Stockings, lacy black panties, and a matching bra… thing (I’m not good at naming women’s clothes). I tried to put into words how she was cheating. But it was all at once so obvious, while also not actually cheating, while also not something I was sure that I wanted her to stop. I flustered for a moment. Especially with that last bit. 

Then, Mom dropped the innocent act. Her smile turned up into a wicked grin, and she reached reached behind herself for a moment. A few seconds later her hand came back, and up, pulling down on the material that was covering her left breast. When her tit was fully out, naked and exposed to me, she went back to that feigned innocence pose a moment before laughing. 

Finally, her voice came out in a seductive purr as she said, “I can stop sweetie, but uh, something…” Mom said suggestively as her eyes swept down my body to land on my erection. Which was, of course, pressing very obviously into the outside of my pants by then. “...Tells me that you like what I’m doing.” 

My Mom’s grin was as seductive as the rest of her. Finally dropping the ruse for good, she glanced from my pool cue, to the last ball I needed to sink, and then back to my crotch. After a moment of staring, she licked her lips and said, “Now, slugger. Are you going to put that thing in, or not?” 

To my surprise, despite the sudden spike in temperature that I was feeling, the difficulty in standing comfortably, and the absolutely massive distraction that was my Mom’s naked left tit, I actually managed to call and sink my shot. 8-ball down, game won. I was ready to do a little victory boasting, when Mom, making no effort to cover up now that the game was done, sauntered up to me with a hip-swaying walk that was all sex and wicked promises. 

She walked right up to me, and the swing of her hips was so pronounced and sexual in nature that it actually drew my eyes from her breasts for a moment. Of course, neither was at face level, and so my teeth actually clacked a bit when Mom used one finger to push my lower jaw up into place and make me look her in the eye. Which was saying something, because, while not short for a woman, Mom was definitely shorter than me. 

I apologized on instinct, but Mom’s next words were a clear reminder that my instincts were not going to be very helpful. “I’ll make you a deal slugger”, she began. And part of me wanted to remind her that she’d already made a deal, but before my idiot mouth could get the words out, I noticed how intense the look in her eyes was. If I hadn’t been hard before that moment, the look she was giving me right then, all by itself, would have been enough. So I shut up, gave a quick nod, and listened. 

“You won, fair and square”, she said with a little laugh. Even pausing for a moment to glance down at her own nudity. But then she continued, “So you can go to the party with your Dad and I next weekend. But, I’ll be honest here honey. I don’t think you're ready.” 

I started to protest, but Mom gently shushed me, laying a finger against my lips. Once I got the message, she continued. “So…” she began. “How about this? I’ll give you a choice. You can come to your first party next weekend. OR… you can wait a bit longer, and get a handjob from me. Right here. Right now.” 

I was shocked. Like, holy shit that sounded hot! But as my brain overheated from the words that, even at that point, I couldn’t believe I was hearing, part of me was still worried that it was a trap. Like, if I took the handjob, I’d be in trouble, or Mom would be upset or something. But as I was trying to figure out if it was a trap or not, my Mother’s well manicured fingernails began to slowly undo the button on my pants. 

I managed to get out a half breathy, half surprised, “Mom!?” as I desperately tried to not moan at the relief that my pants being undone would no doubt provide my straining hard-on. But as Mom’s delicate touch moved down to my zipper, and she began to slowly pull downward, separating the metal teeth, she looked back up into my eyes. “Tick tick”, she chided gently. “What’s it going to be kiddo? Would you rather have early access to the parties, or a handjob from your Mom?” 

She knelt down a bit as she guided my pants slowly to the floor. She actually had leaned her head slightly to side so that she could smile at me from around the bulge in my underwear before standing back up. Then she slipped her thumbs into my boxers, one on each side, and just, waited. 

It only took a few seconds before the tension of the moment felt like it was going to fucking kill me if she didn’t touch me more. Just MORE! So, nodding like a crazy person, and I told her my answer. “The handjob!” I said, with what was probably wayyyy too much enthusiasm. But instead of giving it to me, Mom shook and head and took a step back away from me. 

My first thought was “FUCK! That was definitely a trap!!!” But, it wasn’t quite that. Mom wagged a finger in my direction, and began to calmly explain. “You see sweetie? That is exactly what I mean. You went for the short, quick, easy gratification instead of showing the discipline and patience needed to wait it out. That is exactly how I DON’T want you behaving when I introduce you to this world, and to these people.” 

I was, almost instantly deflated. And I settled on staring at my Mom’s tit as a kind of consolation prize. But a moment later Mom stepped forward, slipped one hand into my boxers and grasped my cock with a soft, cool, touch. As as those delicate fingers snaked around my erection and gave a gentle squeeze, I felt a pleasure so intense that I, all at once, had my skin flush red, my teeth clench up, and I let out a moan with such violent suddenness that I tore up my throat a bit in the process. 

My fists were clenched at my side and I experienced a burst of pleasure that I was pretty sure put almost all of my previous orgasms to shame. And that was just from her touching me! I felt my Mother’s hand reach up behind my head, as she slid her fingers into my hair and gently urged me to bend down and bring my ear to her lips. 

Once I did, Mom slid her other hand down further, and I gasped, and moaned again as she gently cupped my balls and began to gently play with my sack. “Ooooh”, she moaned, right along with me. As if my pleasure was getting her off too. And having her moan into my ear, her breath teasing along my skin… 

Her voice was both, more sexual than anything I’d ever heard, while also being the most familiar thing in the world somehow. And it was driving me wild even before she began using words! “That’s why you need Mommy’s hand here.” She whispered excitedly. 

Then she moved back to a proper grip and began to pump her hand up and down my shaft. The bottom half of me was still in my boxers. But the top half of my cock was pressed in between our bodies as her fist made its way steadily up and down the length of me. “Don’t worry baby”, she promised, her voice a breathy moan speaking directly into my ear. “I’m going to help you get ready for these parties. …Even if I need to stroke this nice, big, fat fucking cock of yours every single day from now until then! Would you like that sweetie? Would you like for Mommy to turn into your little hand-job whore for the next couple of weeks?”

My answer was a loud cry of pleasure that almost buckled my knees on the spot. But I was pretty sure that Mom got the message anyway. After another minute or so, she stopped, and sweetly quieted my fears. She assured me that she wasn’t done, but that standing in the middle of the game room, in the middle of the day, probably wasn’t the best place for what we were doing. Then she told me to take her to my room, and the way she said it made it, I don’t know… It was like it was secret, and hot, and dirty; when it was only supposed to be a regular sentence. 

Once in my room, Mom had me lay down on my bed. When she joined me on it, she started at the foot and began to crawl up the length of it. But as she went, she laid little kisses on my calf. Then my knee. Then my thigh. Then my upper thigh. She paused there, and gave me a sinful grin. Then she skipped up to my stomach. But as she pressed down to plant a kiss on my stomach, her naked breast pressed down into my cock and forced a moan from me. Mom waited for me to recover, and then shot me a wink that told me that nothing she was doing was an accident. 

She kissed her way up my chest, and then up my neck. She settled there. Reaching down and gripping my cock once again. Mom smiled again, and after a moment she asked, “It’s not just me right? This is way hotter because I’m your Mom?” I nodded, and assured her that, 100 fucking percent yes. While I didn’t know it yesterday, I very fucking much knew it now! 

Mom seemed pleased with my answer, and went back to gently kissing, licking at, and sucking on my earlobe and my neck as she slowly stroked my cock. She only paused to grab some lube from my bedside dresser. I didn’t ask how she knew exactly where to look for that, I just rolled with it. 

Once I was lubed up and her touch was no longer constrained, her hand was suddenly all over me. She stroked, and pumped, and ran her fingers all over the length of me. She touched parts of me that I felt like I, somehow, never had, and she did it with dexterity and grace that made my legs shake and my stomach muscles tremble. 

Meanwhile her other hand stroked my check, ran fingers gently up and down the side of my neck, and ran themselves, deliciously through my hair. She was comforting and erotic. I’d never been harder and yet I was so soothed and relaxed. 

Multiple times she had me on the edge and I was 100 percent certain that I was about to cum. Then she would change gears, adjust the way she was touching me, and she would somehow calm me down while continuing to apply pleasure of one kind or another. She did this over and over again, even massaging my leg muscles at one point. After the 9th or 10th time, I felt like I was leaking as much cum as I usually put out when I fully orgasmed and I hadn’t even “finished” yet! 

I felt so hot and turned on that I was beginning to think I was going to damage myself somehow just from being aroused past the breaking point. Then Mom asked me, ever so sweetly, “Are you ready to cum sweetie?” I tried to speak, but couldn’t. So I nodded emphatically. But, Mom didn’t move. I was legitimately about to panic when she guided me, saying, “Uh uh honey. You can’t get away with a nod this time. I want to hear you say, Yes Mom. Or better yet, Yes Mommy. Do you think you can do that for me sweetie?” 

Then, in a moment of clarity, I actually felt like I knew exactly where Mom was coming from for once. I just, in that moment, I understood her. I tested this new found power when I answered her a moment later. I said, “I’m ready to cum Mom.” Then I immediately followed it with, “Will you stroke your Son’s cock nice and hard for me?” 

Mom gasped, her whole body clenched up, and she moaned. For a second she took her hand off of me and moved to put it between her own legs. But, after a second, she looked back up at me with a quick flip of her hair. A wicked, approving smile spread across her lips as she looked me in the eye and promised, “Oh sweetie. Mommy’s going to make you cum so fucking hard.” 

Then she slid one of her long, toned legs up my own, and the feel of the skin of her thigh making its way up mine was thrilling to an insane degree. She began rocking her body then, like she was having sex while also stroking me off. She moaned for me, and her pace increased. She looked me right in the eyes, and asked me if I liked how my Mom was stroking my big cock. 

Then, as that pressure began to build, she made the same promise from before. “Sweetie, don’t you worry, I’m going to get you ready for those parties. It won’t be easy though,” she said. Then she grabbed one of my hands and moved it so that her one naked tit was in my palm. She moaned loudly when I gripped her, and the moan itself was almost as intense as finally holding one of my Mom’s huge breasts in my hand! 

She was still rocking and moaning, as she built me steadily and heavily towards the most powerful orgasm of my life. Her hand was stroking me so good! Then her words cut into our mutual moans and groans of pleasure. “Do you know what your Mother does at those parties? Do you know what people do TO me? Think you’re ready to watch that Son? Hmm? Think you’re ready to participate? Because you are going to need to be okay watching me get bent over the nearest piece of furniture and fucked from behind. Think you can do that? Would it help if I let you slip your cock down Mommy’s throat while it was happening?”

That was my tipping point. I tried to give her a warning, but it just came out as the first of many roars. Mom didn’t miss a beat though. She replied with, “Yeah? Are you going to cum for Mommy?! Shoot a nice big load baby! If you shoot it far enough, you can cum on your Mother’s face!” 

Mom looked down at my cock then, and my vision went black as my back arched. I gripped the bed so hard I think I broke something, and I screamed out the most powerful orgasm of my entire life. Like, there was no close second place at that point. Nothing compared! 

When I finally came down enough to acknowledge that I was sweating, heavily out of breath, and panting in post orgasmic bliss that felt like my soul had left my body and I might never move again, I noticed Mom smiling at me. She was beaming brightly, the same beautiful face she’d always had. Except that, now, it had a single strand of my cum hanging from her jaw. 

She seemed pretty pleased with that actually. But as she did her best to get enough cum off of her hand that she could safely walk through the house without it dripping everywhere, she reminded me one last time of what was to come. 

“That was a VERY good start honey. I think these little sessions of ours are going to be good for us. And who knows, after a few weeks of daily handjobs from your Mom, maybe we can talk again about you actually coming with your Dad and I to one of these parties. 

Then she shot me one last wink, pulled her bra thingy back into position so that she was at least semi-covered up, and walked out of the door. Presumably to clean up, get dressed, and make dinner. 

Somehow, I knew she was serious about her offer. And I also knew that, nothing in my life from before that day, could prepare me for how incredible it was about to become!

 

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