Four Short Stories About the Wedding Party (and women other than the bride being bred)

Four short stories about the wedding party

(and women other than the bride being bred)

By Robert Lubrican

Bookapy Edition

Copyright 2025 Robert Lubrican

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, lend them your e-reading device. Otherwise, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Rights to cover art purchased at iStock.com

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Table of Contents

Book One: The Mother of the Groom and the Best Man

Book Two: The Best Man and the Maiden of Honor

Book Three: The Maiden of Honor and the Bride's Father

Book Four: The Bride's brother and the Groom's Sister

***************

 

Book One: The Mother of the Groom and the Best Man

Cast:

1. Brad Vickers– 20- Best Man - Lifeguard in the summer and unloads trucks in the winter. Dan's best friend since first grade. He's like a second son to Katherine.

2. Katherine Jackson – 39 single, Mother of the groom

3 Rodney – Katherine's dead husband

4. Dan Jackson – their son and the groom - 20

Chapter One

Katherine Jackson sat down and gave a sigh of relief. She kicked off her heels and leaned back in the chair. Her son of twenty years was finally married. He and his new bride were even now changing out of their wedding regalia and getting ready to take off on the adventure of their honeymoon. She felt tingles in her loins at the thought they may have suspended packing, once his tux and her dress were off. Were they already engaged in marital bliss? She remembered, dimly, her own honeymoon, so long ago. She'd been eighteen and Rodney had kept her in bed for days. Not that she had minded. Their sex life had always been good until cancer robbed both of them of the happy-ever-after ending they deserved. A stage four glioblastoma in his brain had been diagnosed on a Wednesday, and two Wednesdays after that he died on the operating table during surgery. When they weren't physically getting his affairs in order, she clung to him and cried.

It had taken her and their eleven-year-old son a long, long time to work through the grief. She'd had to become both father and mother to Dan. It had been so hard she hadn't even thought about dating. Even three years after he passed, when Danny was nagging that she was young enough to start over, she wasn't interested in that. She was thirty-three then, and told him she'd take steps, just to get him off her back. She hadn't. Now, six years later she felt like it was too late to kick-start a relationship like that. She didn't really need a man. She had several toys if urges attacked her.

Not that there were no men interested. She'd been hit on many times over the years. One idiot had tried a line on her at Rodney's funeral! Her natural adolescent beauty had been preserved over the years by a regimen of exercise, including running three miles a day. She let her hair grow long again (she'd cut it to raise a baby) and now the auburn mass fell past her shoulder blades. Her breasts were larger, thanks to breastfeeding. It would take a man with large hands to cup them fully, now. They sagged only a little, though, and all that cupped them now were the bras she wore outside the house. Her waist was trim and her belly flat as a board. Strong legs held her up and if she wore high heels, every man who saw her salivated.

She picked up a nearby flute of champagne, tipped it, and drank it like water. It burned her throat but was delicious. Another flute was two chairs away. She changed chairs and drank half.

"Well, they're gone," said Brad Kensington, as he sat down beside her. "Now you can get drunk and party."

"Bradley," she said, her voice feigning anger. "When have you ever seen me drunk?"

"Once," he said, instantly. "It was New Year's Eve three years ago. You got so snockered that Dan and I had to put you to bed."

"That was after a rough year for the company," she said. "Let's talk about that. We never have, and I'd like very much, now, to know why I woke up the next morning in my own bed, naked."

"Oh, that," said Brad, his voice careless. "You'd spilled a whole drink down your front and there was some kind of food on your behind that you sat in. We just wanted you to be comfortable."

"So two seventeen-year-old young men decided I needed to be naked to be comfortable?" She arched one eyebrow.

Brad reached for the only remaining filled flute on the table and sipped.

"Dan's gone. He's not here to beat my ass, so I'll just tell you. You were as much of a MILF then as you are, now. We were horny young men, who had never seen perfection. We couldn't resist. All we did was look, though. He made sure of that."

"I am not a MILF," she snorted.

"I believe it is the male who gets to decide that," he said. "If I say you're a MILF then you're a MILF, and Mrs. J, you are most definitely a MILF."

Her cleavage turned pink and Brad watched it travel up to her cheeks.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," he said. "I've been in love with you since I was twelve, and I grew my first pubic hair."

"You were too young to know what love was," she snorted.

"True, but over the years I learned more and more." He left the impression that now, since he was twenty, he had gained that kind of wisdom. "I'm not a little boy anymore," he said, to punctuate his earlier comment.

"I know what MILF stands for," she said, softly. "That makes you a very naughty boy, Brad."

"Didn't I just point out I'm not a boy anymore?" he said, as their eyes locked. "And Danny isn't here to threaten me now."

"Why did he threaten you?"

"I probably thought of ten ways to see you naked, over the years. He wouldn't let me do any of them, other than that one time, and said he'd beat my ass if I tried again. He knew every time I got a boner because of you and he'd tell me to go to the bathroom and beat it into submission. He wasn't angry about it. He was just protective of you."

"Nonsense. He tried to get me to go on dates for years."

"That's because we fantasized about what going on a date with you might be like. It usually got … intense, and we both went to separate bathrooms."

"I was aware how star-struck you were," she said. "You were like a little puppy, begging for attention. You were cute. Then you grew into a man and you weren't cute anymore. You were dangerous. And please don't tell me my own son lusted after me."

"Okay. I won't," he said with a grin. "And I'm not dangerous. I wouldn't hurt a flea."

"Your adoration was genuine," she said. "That means a lot to a woman, particularly a woman who has lost her life mate, the man who always made her feel beautiful and desirable."

"Danny paid you compliments," he said. "I did, too."

"And that was cute, too," she said. "Go get me a drink."

"Are you sure that's wise? What if you get drunk and I take advantage of you?"

"You wouldn't do that, Bradley," she said.

"We'll talk more about that when I get back," he said.

He went to the bar. The bartender was gone, but the stock from the open bar was still there. He knew she liked Johnnie Walker, with a splash of Drambuie in it, so he snagged a black label bottle, the more squat bottle of the liqueur, and two whiskey glasses. A half-filled ice bucket was on the bar, already on a tray. He put the bottles and glasses on the tray and carried it to their table. There were only five or ten other people in the room. The reception had been high energy and most people had already left, tired and happy.

He set the tray down and she watched him make her a drink.

"I believe this is how you like it," he said, offering her the glass.

Her eyes glittered as she looked at him.

"You're even more dangerous than I thought," she said. "I've watched you grow up and become a man. You were like a second son to me. You lived with us as much as you lived at your house. I got to see what kind of man you were becoming, and I was proud I had some small influence in that."

"Dan and I were best friends," he said, shrugging as he made his own drink. "We were inseparable."

"You were. You always got in trouble together."

"We also did good deeds together, like make sure you were comfortable and safe in your bed that New Year's Eve."

"So, naughty," she said, taking a gulp of her drink. "I'm trying to imagine what that looked like. My privacy was invaded. I should be angry with you, but I'm too tired to make that effort."

"I can tell you what it was like, if you wish," he said, sipping his drink.

She thought about it. She remembered dancing with this young man several times during the reception. He had always danced close, as if they were very good friends. She remembered feeling safe in his arms. She hadn't thought about it then. She knew this young man almost as well as she knew her own son. She had not been surprised at all when Dan asked Brad to be his best man.

"Will I be unhappy if you do?" she asked.

"I hope not," he said. "It was something that made a huge difference in our lives. The impression you made on both of us made us want to be sure no woman ever hated us."

"What an odd thing to say," she said. She drank another large sip, looked at it, and then knocked it off. She shoved the glass back at Brad, who made her another drink without comment. "All right," she said, as he slid the glass back in front of her. "Go ahead. What was it like looking at an old broad whose privacy you were slaughtering?"

"The term 'old broad' offends me," said Brad. "It demeans you and I will not tolerate that. You were like a goddess. Every inch of you was perfection. Over the years, every picture in Playboy or some other skin mag was compared to you. None of them had a chance. Your face was made up, and that always makes you affect my libido. But to be able to let my gaze linger on the rest of you was … I felt like I'd won the lottery. I'd describe you, but I don't want to embarrass you. Just know it was a transcendent experience for both of us. It changed our lives, and it changed them for the better."

Katherine had enjoyed champagne all night, and now the scotch, on top of that, had her tipsy. She had also eaten plenty, so it was a very happy tipsy, both because she knew her son was happy, and because she felt completely comfortable with the young man who she was drinking with. He was speaking of very intimate, private things, but that did not make her feel awkward. It was impossible to feel awkward around Brad.

"Go ahead and describe me," she said.

He looked at her, sipped his drink, and began to speak.

"Every part of you was gorgeous. Even your toes, which had the same deep, magenta polish on them as your fingernails had, were something I wanted to count, and play with. I even thought of sucking one of them."

"Ridiculous," she said, with no heat in her voice.

"Your legs belong on a Greek statue of a gladiator, or something. Even as relaxed as you were, we could see the muscles you have always taken so much care of. And as our eyes traveled up to where they joined, we were breathless."

"Rodney always loved how I looked there, but I thought it looked like overripe fruit. Rodney wanted me clean shaven and I loved him, so I did that. After he died I let my hair grow to cover up … down there."

"Well, he was right and you were wrong," said Brad. "Growing your hair back didn't work, by the way. Your hair was beautiful, but it only framed what was mouthwatering."

"Bradley!" she chided.

"You said I could describe you, so suck it up," he said with a smile. "Neither of us had ever seen a picture in which the inner labia bulged out through the outer lips. You're right about it looking like some kind of fruit, but it was a ripe fruit that needed to be eaten, lest it spoil. I would have feasted there for an hour if I could have. Danny, of course, said if I touched you he'd cut my dick off. Your hips were round in a way I'd never seen before. I've seen you in skirts and shorts and jeans, and you always have a fantastic ass, but clothing hides your waist. Naked, we could see the hour glass shape of your body. I wanted to kiss your abdomen too. It was so beautiful."

"How can an abdomen be beautiful?" she asked.

"I knew it had bulged one time, when it had Danny under it. That makes a man think about how a woman gets pregnant. And when I looked at your breasts, I came a little in my pants. They were so full, and round, and beautiful. I wished I could be a baby to suckle them. Your nipples were even a little erect. I think I drooled a little. We babbled a little bit as we looked at you. I think it astonished both of us. Danny always foiled my plans to peek at you when you were undressed, but I know he got little glimpses of you that I was never lucky enough to have. Then that happened and I got to examine you and preserve every gorgeous inch of you in my memory."

"My, my," she said, as she fanned her face with her hand.

"We both had to go masturbate when we got you tucked in," he said, staring at her unabashed.

"I should not have asked for that," she said, killing half her drink.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed or offended you," he said.

"You did neither," she said. "You just took me back to a time when, if I was naked, and a man got excited about it, I could go to bed with him. Rodney used to talk about what parts of me he loved. It always made me horny."

"I'm sorry if I made you horny," he said. "Unless you don't mind being horny."

She blinked at him several times.

"Bradley Lee Vickers, if I didn't know better, I might think you were trying to seduce me." She blinked some more.

"Well, like I said, Dan isn't here to stop me," he said.

"So … you are trying to seduce me?" She frowned. "Brad, that is completely inappropriate."

"Not at all," he said. "You're a woman and I'm a man. I'm not your actual son, so this isn't an incestuous situation at all. There is no reason in the world why I should be forbidden to appreciate you in the way I'm appreciating you."

"Appreciating me," she said. She giggled. "I've heard it called lots of things, but never appreciation."

She took another swallow and he cautioned her.

"You're drinking that pretty quickly. Please don't get drunk. I'd have to take you home and make you … comfortable."

"I bet you would," she said. Somehow the idea of him doing that wasn't threatening at all. She knew their feelings of affection for each other were genuine.

"I'd rather you were sober if you decided to let me do that," he said.

"Brad," she said, softly. "If I thought you were acting in an unacceptable manner, you know I'd correct you. I've done that a thousand times."

"Yes, but you never scolded me for trying to kiss you."

"You want to kiss me?"

"Very much. I've dreamed about doing that a thousand times."

"Oh my. You're not the boy I have come to know so well."

"I grew up a little," he said.

"You sure did," she said. "You're making me feel things a mere boy could not make me feel."

"That sounds promising," he said. "Tell me more."

"No. It would only encourage you." She killed the remaining scotch in her glass and stood up. She weaved a little and touched the table to get her balance.

"Bradley?" she said. "I think I might need your help to get to my car."

He laughed.

"You're not driving anywhere. If you blew now you'd probably blow way three times the limit and you'd end up going to jail. Let's not make you spend a night in jail."

"Whatever shall I do?" she asked, with a giggle.

"I'll call us an Uber," he said. "I'll make sure you get home safe and sound."

"If you're with me I am not at all sure I'll be safe," she said. She giggled again.

"I would never do anything that might make you drive me away," he said.

"Famous last words. Let's go while I can still walk."

She sat back down while he used his phone to order a ride. He saw her splash scotch into her glass and polish it off neat.

"Katherine," he said, his voice sharp. "You've had enough."

"You've never called me Katherine," she sighed. "You always called me Mrs. J and it always made me feel old."

"You're not old," he said. "You're in the prime of your life."

"I feel old, sometimes," she sighed.

"You're like that black label," he said. "You're old enough to have reached perfection. You're ready to drink."

"Are you going to drink me, Bradley?" she slurred.

Her head nodded, and finally stayed down.

"Fuck!" said the young man in an angry voice.

***************

He carried her to the car and the driver helped him get her in. Her dress was voluminous and made it difficult to get a grip on her body to arrange her. He dropped her shoes and purse on the floorboard and sat next to her, to keep her from falling over.

He gave the driver the name of the street her house was on and then told him where to stop. He got her over his shoulder again and she groaned. Once inside he carried her to her bedroom and arranged her on her bed.

"This is not how I wanted this to happen," he growled. Then he sighed. "Oh, well."

He began to undo, unclip, and unbutton things, until he could get the dress off of her, over her head. She was wearing a strapless bra, because the design of the dress left her shoulders bare. Her breasts bulged in the too-tight garment. He was surprised to see she was wearing a garter belt under her panties, which was clipped to thigh-high black stockings.

He stared at her panties, which were purple and lacy. He didn't really need to remove them. The garter belt could remain. It wasn't uncomfortable, was it? He grinned as he almost said aloud that he'd never worn one. He moved to the bra and she sighed as it went slack. He set it aside, on top of the semi-folded dress and then turned back to her almost naked body. He knew he shouldn't remove the panties, but he couldn't resist. In the process of removing them he changed his mind about the garter belt and removed it, too. He was able to pull her stockings off easily, leaving her completely naked. She was just as beautiful as the last time he'd seen her like this.

This wasn't how he had seen this happening in his mind. He had known it was a very long shot, but he'd lusted after this woman for years. She really was his definition of feminine perfection.

Okay, so what was plan B?

He thought about it. She wasn't commode-hugging drunk. She had just gone to sleep.

Okay. He'd let her sleep.

He stood back and admired her, marveling at how beautiful she was without clothes covering her up. She was beautiful even when clothes covered her, but this was soooo, much better.

He got her in what he hoped was a comfortable position.

Then he stripped and got in bed beside her.

***************

Katherine rose from the depths of darkness slowly. Her brain had filed all the memories from the night before. She felt warm and safe. Bradley had tried to seduce her. He was so sweet. She almost wanted to let him. He was a better man than most who were twice his age. She was lying on her side, with her arm draped over …

Who?!

Her mind inventoried the situation. She knew she was naked. She could feel her breasts pressed against the body next to her and the sheet and light blanket touching other parts of her body. She had frozen when she realized she was in bed with someone. Her memory tried hard to identify the person, but there was nothing there to draw on. Carefully she moved her hand, until she could feel the skin under her fingertips.

It was a muscular body … a man's body.

Could it be …? No! He would not have done that!

She sat up and pushed the covers off of them. It was Brad! He was lying there asleep, as if nothing had happened at all!

At the same time she gathered her strength to scream at him, her eyes took in his form. She knew he was a lifeguard in the summertime, and swam half as far as she ran each day. In the winter he unloaded trucks. She could see his muscles bulging under his skin. He was … gorgeous.

No! He was not gorgeous! He had taken advantage of her!

Wait.

She looked down at the bulging labia she thought were so disgusting. She remembered what it felt like after Rodney made love to her. Now she searched, carefully, for any hint that she had been penetrated.

There was nothing.

She reached and slipped her index finger into herself, up to the second knuckle. She pulled it out and concentrated on how her vagina felt. It wasn't much, but she could tell where she had just touched herself.

She looked back at the boy she was in bed with. Could it be he hadn't molested her? Her mind barked, 'He got you naked and slept in bed with you while he was naked, too!' Then some other place in her mind said, "Is that really as bad as if he had fucked you? I don't think so!"

He was lying on his right side, with one leg cocked at the knee. She leaned forward but couldn't see his penis. She got out of bed and looked at the sheets. There was no stain.

As she stood there, staring down at him he rolled onto his back. His left hand went to find … her … and realized she wasn't there. He opened his eyes and looked up at her.

She, however, was not looking at his face. She was looking at what was revealed when he rolled over. She knew it was morning wood. Rodney had it all the time. She knew it did not mean she had caused it. But it had been so long since she'd seen one, especially like this!

She swallowed.

It was gorgeous. He was gorgeous. He had muscles on his muscles and there was no boy left in him. What was lying in her bed was all man.

"Come back to bed," he said, his voice mellow.

Now she looked at his face.

"Nothing happened," he said. "We just got comfortable and cuddled a little. Come back to bed."

"Why?" she asked. She was poised on the balls of her feet, ready to flee, if necessary.

"I love being in bed with you," he said. "I've wanted to do that since I was fourteen. It was amazing, by the way. You drank a little too much and you weren't really participating, but I loved it anyway. Come back to bed and participate."

Her feet relaxed and her heels fell onto the floor. No flight was necessary.

"I know what that is," she said, pointing at his penis. "I know you need to go to the bathroom."

"Promise you'll still be here when I get back?" he pled.

She swallowed.

"Yes. I think we need to talk."

"I agree," he said.

He got up and she watched his graceful body as he went to the bathroom. He closed the door and she felt the urge to flee again. It was the fact he had closed the door that made her stay. He wasn't worried about her running away. He said he wanted to talk. Should she put something on? Part of her said, "Of course you should put something on, you silly woman!" but before she could move he returned. Now she could see him full frontal and her knees felt weak. Adonis. This must have been what Adonis looked like.

His penis hung, now, limp and harmless. Even now, though, it looked big, hanging there, resting on full balls. He wasn't cut, which made her remember how Rodney hadn't been cut. She had played with his foreskin, delighted at how she could make it appear and disappear at will. Brad's would be the same.

He stood on the other side of the bed.

"Please?" he said, his voice deep. "I won't hurt you."

"I know that!" she said, almost annoyed.

"Come to bed and let's talk."

She couldn't believe it as her body moved without her conscious thought. Her body wanted to be in bed with Adonis, even when her mind was yelling that this was foolish.

As soon as her breasts pressed against his chest, though, and she smelled the minty-fresh scent of toothpaste, she couldn't have moved away from him if someone had offered her a million dollars.

"Did you use my toothbrush?" she asked.

"No. I used my finger," he said. "Is it okay?"

"No," she said. "You smell good and I bet I smell like road kill."

"I'm not worried about that," he said.

"Well, I am. Stay here!"

She rolled away and stood. She realized her own bladder was complaining as she went inside her bathroom. She brushed her teeth while she sat on the pot. Her mind was racing.

What was she doing? Where did she want this to go? Going back there and getting back in bed with him was insanity.

Her body reminded her of how good it was to feel her breasts pressing against a warm, firm chest, for the front of her thighs to touch the front of his. She couldn't believe how much she had missed that simple closeness.

She finished and used a dab of the cream she habitually used to stay fresh.

Then she went to the door. He was lying there, with his head on his hand, held up by his elbow. His upper leg was bent and in front of the other a little, but it no longer hid his manhood. It sagged clear down to the sheet.

"This is a bad idea," she said.

"No, it's not," he argued. "This is a very good idea."

"Why? What do you think will happen?"

"I have no idea," he said, calmly. "I hope to get to feel you in my arms again. I hope we can talk. I don't care what we talk about. I just want to hear your voice. If something that feels good happens, that would be great, but nothing is required. I just hope we can be comfortable … like this."

"If I get back in bed with you I'm going to do something stupid," she moaned.

"Then by all means, come back to bed. I want to see what that kind of stupidity feels like."

It was the feeling in her middle, just below her belly button and toward her mons, that both warned her and enticed her. She walked to the bed.

"I'm scared," she said.

"You don't need to be," he said, patting the sheet in front of him. "Nothing is going to happen without your express approval."

"That's what I'm worried about," she said.

She got onto the bed and lay in front of him. She did not press against him, leaving eight or nine inches between them.

"Bradley, I want you to be a gentleman," she said, firmly.

"Katherine, I want you to be a woman," he replied.

"I can't help but be a woman," she said. "You can decide whether or not to be a gentleman."

He reached for her hand and, once he had it, he tugged.

"Come closer," he said.

"This is not a good idea, Bradley," she said as her muscles propelled her towards him. Now only an inch separated them.

"Closer," he whispered.

"Ohhhh," she moaned, as her muscles plastered her body against his. His arm went around her. Their heads bumped. They looked at each other, blinking.

"Can I please kiss you?" he asked. "I've wanted to kiss you for years."

"You've wanted to do everything for years, apparently," she said.

"Okay. I'm going to kiss you, now," he said.

His lips moved closer. She thought of a hundred movies in which this happened, lips getting closer, slowly, being pulled as if by magnets, until at last they touched and the audience sighed.

Then his lips touched hers and she knew she was lost. His lips were warm and gentle. His hand pulled her body against his with only five or ten pounds of force.

She felt the passion in that kiss, and it let loose the passion in her she had kept caged up all those years. The gates that had held that passion in for almost a decade were rusty, but they burst open, and suddenly she was kissing him ardently.

"No, no, no," she mumbled as the kiss went on and on. She wasn't supposed to feel like this.

How it happened she could not say, but she ended up on top of him. Now she had something she could rub against. She started with his thigh, which was rock hard. Her pussy lips left trails of shiny liquid on his skin. That felt wonderful, but she needed something less broad. She moved up and felt her pussy lips crawl over what had to be hairy balls. Then she found the thing that was perfect to rub against.

"You're hard," she moaned against his lips.

"Duh," he replied, touching her tongue with his.

Now the kiss was as intimate as it could get, and she had something to rub her screaming clit on. She dragged it up and down the underside of his spike. She wasn't frightened of that prick. The concept of forced sex never entered her mind. It was just there, for her to play with. As she moved, her breasts squashed up and down his chest. Her movements became so forceful that she couldn't keep her lips welded to his. They both needed to breathe, anyway.

"You feel so good," she moaned. "You're being so very naughty, Brad."

"I believe you're the one who is being naughty," he said, smiling. "I'm just lying here."

"Yes … you are …" she groaned as an orgasm reared its head and leered at her.

'Can you have me?' it teased. 'Do you want me to finish making the journey?'

"Yes!" she hissed, as she sped up.

The orgasm almost broke her. She was intimately aware of whose penis she was rubbing on. He was too young. She was literally old enough to be his mother. But what she was feeling right now was almost as perfect as his body. Her mind flashed to Rodney and her mind looked "up". She saw his face.

He was smiling. He was giving her permission. He was saying she could feel things again. He knew she already loved this young man she had spent so much time with over the years since he'd been gone.

Tears suddenly spilled from her eyes and dripped onto his chest. His thumb reached up and wiped one cheek.

"If you want to stop, then stop," he said. "Don't cry."

"I don't want to stop and I'll cry if I want to," she said.

"I'll just be quiet, then," he said, smiling.

"Bradley, I am very cross with you," she said, as she reached to grip his thick prick with her hand.

"I'm sad," he said. "Tell me why."

"Because I can't help doing this," she said, notching the tip of his phallus between her lush inner lips. She lurched down, impaling herself with almost no real pressure. It wasn't until she sat up that she felt the pressure, as her weight slammed her completely down on his spike.

"Ohhhhh, fuck," she groaned. "You're too big."

"It feels just right," he said, reaching for her waist.

"Give me a minute," she said.

"Take all the time you want," he said. He flexed inside her and her muscles fought back, gripping him and then releasing his bulk.

"This is what you wanted," she said. "Ever since last night you wanted this. Admit it! That's true, isn't it?"

"I wanted something like this," he said. "I didn't know what it would look like. All I knew was that Danny was gone and wouldn't be there to cock block me."

"What if I tell him what you've done?" she asked.

"Do you know how many women I've had sex with?" he asked.

"No," she said. "So what? Are you going to brag, now?"

"I've made love with only one other woman," he said. "I do not take this kind of thing lightly."

"How sweet," she said.

He reached to pull her down, until she had to put her hands on his chest.

"I don't fuck around," he said. "Now that we have done this I think of you as my woman. I don't think of you as a possession. Not at all. But just like I categorized Danny as my best friend in the whole world, I categorize you as the only woman I'll make love with. You can tell me to go away, but if you don't, then I'll stay. And I'll want to do this a lot."

She sat up and he fondled her breasts. When he squeezed her fat, dark nipples and pulled on them gently, the orgasm quit asking permission and slammed into her.

She whined and her pussy almost vibrated.

"Yes," he said. "Cum on my cock, Mrs. J. Be my MILF. Be my woman. Let me love you."

It was a weird orgasm. It ebbed and flowed, coming and going. She thought it was over and an arm reached out and tickled her body again.

He pulled her down again and rolled them over. She landed on her back and her legs opened automatically. He had not come out of her and now he rested on his knees and elbows.

"Hi," he said, kissing her nose. "I'm going to make you very happy, now."

He pushed in deep and stayed there. He got on his toes and rested his chest on her flattened breasts. They gave enough that he could make his whole body go in little circles.. That made his loins go in circles and at the top of the circle he crushed her clit with the base of his cock. As he went around and down, his penis moved in her sheath a couple of inches and both her vaginal nerves and clitoral nerves were stimulated at the same time. Her breasts felt quite happy, too. She wasn't quite prepared for another orgasm to slam into her so quickly and this one was yet another type of orgasm. She felt like she was being lifted on the top of a wave, which broke over her and tumbled her over and over again.

She heard an odd noise. It was a woman shouting, groaning, and screaming. With horror she realized it was her own voice she was hearing.

"You feel so good," he purred in her ear. "I knew you would. I knew this would be amazing. Cum one more time for me. I think I can wait that long."

She didn't have another orgasm, so much as the one she'd had just kept going. She let herself tumble, exulting in the passion that was drenching her body.

Then she felt him hump her. He stopped rubbing and started withdrawing just a few inches before pounding back into her. His breathing increased in pace and she felt his body tense up.

Just at the time her mind reminded her she wasn't protected, she heard his sighing grunt and felt the hot ball in her belly that meant he had ejaculated in her.

Again, her mind warred with itself.

"You should scream at him for doing that!" came from one side. "Shut up. This was the most perfect thing I've felt in nine years," said the other.

He lifted his bulk back onto his elbows and she found it easier to breathe. That was good because she was panting as if she'd run her three mile course as fast as she could.

He kissed her with little nipping kisses four or five times before it registered in her mind what he was doing. She put her hands behind his head and pulled his lips to hers, forcefully. She could only hold it for a few seconds, though, because she needed to be able to get more air to her starving lungs.

He started going in circles again and she stopped him with her hands on his hips.

"Too much," she panted. "I need to rest. It's too intense."

"Do you want me to get off?"

"Yes … no … you have completely upended my life."

"It doesn't have to be upended," he said. "All I'm asking for is our relation to change a little bit."

"A little bit?" she yipped. "You may have just gotten me pregnant, young man!"

"Okay. I hear your concern. Next time I'll bring a condom."

"Next time?" she whined. "There shouldn't have been a this time!"

He got to all fours and his penis made a wet, squelching sound as he dragged it out of her. He didn't look at that. He looked only at her face. On his hands and knees, he crawled to where he could put his face next to hers.

"Tell me you hated what just happened and I'll never bother you again," he said.

She opened her mouth, but closed it again. She looked away and then closed her eyes. She panicked.

"I hated it," she whispered.

***************

A month passed. Daniel and his new bride Gina returned from their honeymoon and had made significant strides at setting up their new home. They had not lived together prior to their marriage, primarily because Gina wanted the first weeks of her marriage to unlock many, many things she had wanted to do with her lover, but had resisted doing. Dan had said he understood and did not push her. He was willing to wait if Gina would actually marry him.

For this and other reasons they were wildly happy and fully optimistic about the future.

Katherine had left the couple alone. She told them she didn't want to intrude or be a "nosy mother-in-law", but the real reason was that she knew Dan would sense how unhinged she was. True to his word, Brad had gotten dressed and left. She had not seen or spoken to him since. He didn't even pick up when she got so frantic and called. She and Daniel had formed the kind of relationship, as he grew up, that let them almost read each other's minds. She hadn't known that he viewed his mother in a sexual way, but she didn't care about that. Danny had found and married a beautiful girl and he didn't need his mother anymore, especially in a sexual manner.

Brad had only been gone fifteen minutes when Katherine knew she had acted foolishly. She had said what the culture she lived in would have expected her to say; demanded her to say. After behaving like a complete slut, she had sent him away. That was what she was supposed to do, right?

But as she got up, stretching muscles that had been worked hard, and took inventory of her body, she also took inventory of her emotional state. He had reminded her of Rodney in ways that were almost eerie. She had whispered to her dead husband in her mind, asking him for permission, and she knew he would have given it if he could say it aloud. Rodney had always cared more about her satisfaction than his own. And even as Brad did something that reminded her of Rodney, she knew his ghost didn't care about that, either. All the orgasms she'd had were completely and unqualifiedly celebrated by his spirit.

That said, she really hadn't thought about Rodney all that much. What Brad was doing to her was so out of character for him, and so incredibly unbelievable for the boy she'd watched grow up with her son, that she was shocked into almost a submissive state as he gave her pleasure she was afraid might break her mind.

He'd said he loved her, and asked her to love him in return. She did love him … as the best friend of her son. But that love was genuine and deeply rooted in her psyche. All he had asked for was what he called a tiny change in their relationship. What he was asking for was that when he came through the door, he got a hug and kiss, instead of a smile and a cheery, "Hi, Brad. Danny is in his room." And, instead of cookies and milk, all he wanted was for her to get naked with him so he could drive her insane with pleasure.

Only "little" changes. That's what he called them.

He didn't have a dead wife who he still loved and would always love. He wasn't in a settled job that could be affected by a sexual relationship. He wasn't the one who might get pregnant, and have to spend eighteen hours giving birth in agony as the baby fought to stay in its warm enclosure. And he didn't have a son who would go ballistic if he found out his mother had gone out and had sex with a man half her age.

So she had said what she knew other people would have told her to say.

And she had been miserable ever since.

She kept telling herself the same things that had made her chase him away, but every time she ended up thinking, "Fuck other people! Why can't I have something beautiful and passionate in my life? Who cares if he's so much younger than me? Sure, he'll probably get tired of me and look at women his own age, but even if he abandons me I will have had that much time with ecstasy washing over me like ocean waves." It would be worth the pain, later, if she could spend some time with him each day until then.

She hoped he'd call, or come by and ask her if she'd changed her mind. He might even have begged, which would have been completely unnecessary. She would have said, "We need to make a few rules, but I do not want you to leave me alone." Or something like that. Assuming she didn't tear his clothes off and attack him on the spot.

But he hadn't called. She knew he didn't live with his parents anymore, and had a place of his own, but she didn't know where it was. She couldn't call his mother and casually ask how to find Brad's house. Maureen would think that odd and become curious. Katherine did not need anyone getting curious. In her mind, she could have a little affair with Bradley and no one would be the wiser.

Her misery deepened, but not because she couldn't have sex with him. She missed his smile and happy voice. She missed how handsome and buff he was. She believed she could stare at him for hours and be quite happy. She missed him. It was almost as bad as when Rodney got his initial prognosis.

She didn't compare him to Rodney, except to admit to herself that she felt as strongly about Brad as she had when she had met Rodney. Her common sense told her she loved him, that he had converted her platonic love for her son's best friend to a passionate, romantic love wherein she accepted him as her lover.

It took her a week, but she realized this new kind of love for Brad was real, just as genuine as the love she had centered her life around until it was taken from her. She loved Brad Vickers and she wanted to beg him to forgive her for being a fool. She wanted to tell him she loved him, and then kiss him and …

But she couldn't find him.

She thought about asking Dan to tell Brad to call her, but Dan would want to know why. And she couldn't go around her son anyway because he would know within ten minutes that something was bothering her, eating at her. He would know she had some problem that was sapping her spirit. And he would want to know what that was.

In her mind a scenario popped up.

"Mom. I know something is wrong. Tell me what it is," he would say.

"Well, while you were on your honeymoon, your best friend seduced me and fucked me almost senseless. It was the greatest thing I've felt since your father died. And I was silly about it and told him to leave me alone. And he is leaving me alone, but I realized how foolish I was because I love him. Could you please make him come see me, or at least call me?"

Yes. That would go over like a screen door on a submarine. If she told her son what had happened, there would be two young men who wouldn't want to be in her life.

So she moped. People at work noticed it, but she deflected and tried to act normal. At home she just sat. She had no interest in her hobbies. She hadn't even run since her liaison with Brad.

And that was what busted her with Danny. He knew her routes and one of them went right by his new abode. He knew roughly the hours she had to run and he thought it was odd that he hadn't seen her. He'd called her a couple of times but other than normal pleasantries, they hadn't talked about much. He had invited her to dinner and she'd said she needed a rain check on that.

So he started paying attention, and never saw her running. Was she injured? If so, why hadn't she told him? When he got married he didn't abandon the other woman he loved. But she seemed to have abandoned him.

His job allowed him to work from home and he could set his own hours.

So, one evening about three weeks after coming home from his honeymoon, he went to the house he'd grown up in and walked in like he had every other time in his life. He was dressed to run and he found her in the living room … just sitting. She looked up at him and it was almost like she didn't recognize him. Then she jerked and said, "Dan!"

"Yup, same old guy. I came over to go running with you."

"Oh," she said, looking away. She looked tense, almost nervous. "I don't feel like running. Maybe another day."

Her hair looked limp and oily. She looked thin and it gave her a Barbie kind of physique. That wasn't so bad. He'd noticed her body thousands of times. His spidey sense flared.

"Mom, stand up," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Stand up," he said again. He offered her his hand and she took it automatically. Then she had to stand and, as she did so, he caught a whiff of someone who needed a bath. She wasn't taking care of herself and that worried him.

"Hey, don't be so down," he said, as he pulled her against him. "I know I got married and left, but that doesn't mean you'll never see me. You were happy I was marrying Gina, so don't be so sad. Are you that lonely?"

"I'm glad you married Gina," she said. "I'm not sad about that. I just have a lot on my mind."

"Yes, and it's heavy enough that you stopped running and it smells like you stopped taking showers. If it's that bad, I want in."

"No," she said.

That shocked him. She had never locked him out before. Now he felt tinges of real worry.

"Mother, you and I have faced every challenge that came our way. Nothing beat us down. Yes, there were some tough times, but we worked on that together and solved all our problems. You can't say no to me just because I got married. I want to know what's going on."

"I can't tell you," she groaned.

Ridiculous scenarios flashed through his mind. She'd committed a murder and buried the body in a shallow grave. She anticipated being arrested. She'd gone to work at a strip club to get some extra money. She'd gotten fired and was in financial ruin. He pushed all that out of his mind.

"You have to tell me," he said, softly. "I always had to tell you what was bothering me. That rule applies to you, too."

She tried to break free but his arms tightened.

"I can't talk about it because you'd hate me if I did. You'd never want to see me again. You'd never even speak to me again."

"Did you decide to be a hooker or something?" he asked. "'Cause, while I'd try to talk you out of it, I'd still love you and support you."

"Something like that," she whispered.

Now he was alarmed. He'd offered that scenario as a ploy to get her to tell him what was wrong. Never in a million years would he have believed she had prostituted herself. That was like saying little green men had landed and demanded Earth give them bales of hay.

"Come on," he said. "We're going to go wash your hair. You'll feel better if your hair gets clean."

He didn't let her avoid it. He led her to her bedroom and into her master bathroom. There was a hose in the shower that could be used, if one bent over, to wash one's hair. She resisted, physically, but only marginally, and she said nothing. He knew what shampoo she used and he employed that. She bent over, but made no effort to wash her own hair, so he used his fingers to massage her scalp and rub her hair. He had no idea if it was actually cleaning her hair, but he hoped doing something routine would get her to calm down.

When the rinse was over she stood up and the blouse she was wearing instantly got soaked. He kicked himself, mentally, for not wrapping a towel around her hair when they were finished. Now even her slacks were getting wet as water ran down her body.

"It's okay," he said. "You need a shower anyway. I'll put your clothes in the washer while you take your shower."

She didn't move. He had no idea she was so terrified that he'd find out about Brad that it paralyzed her.

"Mom, you have to give me your clothes so I can take care of them."

She glanced at him and he saw in her eyes that whatever it was, it had destroyed her. It was as he unbuttoned her blouse and then removed her slacks, that something horrifying came into his mind.

"Mom," he said, as she stood there in bra and panties. "Did somebody rape you?"

"No! It wasn't rape!" she blurted. Protecting Brad made her act. Then she got shy again. "It wasn't rape," she whispered, again.

"Then what was it?" he asked. "Do I need to take you to the hospital?"

Her plan to just be silent until he gave up and left was falling apart. Now she had to say something to avoid a hospital visit, where she would not be able to articulate any wound or injury.

"No," she said. "He didn't hurt me."

"He," said Dan. "Who is he?"

"I can't tell you," she moaned, as tears dripped down her cheeks. "I can't tell you. Just go away."

"Nope. Not going away. Let's get you clean. You smell like a homeless person. Come on. I'll even help if you can't do it yourself."

She looked askance at him. He pulled his T shirt up and off his body. She'd seen his chest thousands of times, but what had happened with Brad had made her look at all men in a different way.

"You can't do that," she said.

"I can if you keep refusing to be sensible," he said. "I've seen you in bras and panties a zillion times and your bikini shows a ton more."

He stripped down to his briefs, which were a name brand of some kind and were blue. He pushed her towards the shower, gently, and she said, "Danneeeee."

"Mommeeeeee," he replied.

He pushed her in the shower. The water had been running recently so he knew about where to put it, temperature wise. She yelped as he turned the shower on and she was drenched. Again panic robbed her of controlling her situation. His hands slid over her shoulders with suds on them, and then over her chest. He washed each arm and then her sides. A plan of action popped into her frenzied mind. She would shock him so much he'd leave her alone. She reached behind her, undid her bra, and removed it from her body. She dropped it to the floor of the shower and stood there. Now he'd be freaked out and leave her alone.

But he calmly washed her breasts, instead.

Chapter Two

"I always wondered what these would feel like," he said. "Gina's are really small. She says she's a member of the itty bitty titty committee. Yours are way different to feel. I like them both."

His hands had been rubbing all over her chest as he said this and then he turned her so the water rinsed her.

"Do you want me to do the rest?" he asked, pulling the elastic waistband of her soaked panties and letting it snap back.

"No!" she gasped "I'll do it."

"Promise?"

"I said I'll do it," she said.

She was astonished when he said, "Okay, then. I'll get you some towels," and opened the door and stepped out. He did so quickly but she got a glimpse of the tent that the front of his briefs had become. He was erect. He was erect from being in the shower with his mother.

She pushed her panties down and felt relief when she could move and do things again. She had known he was right. Her own nose had detected the sour odor wafting from her body. She felt shame that he had found her like this. She knew he wouldn't give up. His willingness to break a taboo just to get her in the shower showed what lengths he'd go to if such was needed.

Her knees stiffened. His hands on her breasts had felt good. It was the first good thing she'd felt since … forever, it felt like. And it was her own son's hands that had made her feel good. She had let his best friend maul her breasts, and suck her nipples. She had let his best friend bed her. And now he was willing to break the same kinds of rules that applied to Brad. In fact he had broken more serious rules.

She turned off the shower and opened the frosted door. He was waiting for her with a big, fluffy towel. He had another one wrapped around his waist. He didn't stare at her, but she knew he had peeked. Brad said he tried to find ways to peek and Danny had stopped him. Now Danny was getting to peek a little. Compared to what she had done with Brad what he had done and was seeing was nothing.

"Thank you," she said, as she took the towel.

"I have another one for your hair," he said.

"These won't wrap around my body and stay," she said.

"That's fine. I don't mind if you're naked. You're kind of beautiful."

Again she was shocked enough that she spoke before thinking.

"Brad said I was a MILF."'

She froze. Why had she said that? Shit, shit, shit.

"When did he say that? I'd have liked to have been there to see your reaction."

"It was … um … it happened … I mean he said it at the … um reception," she stuttered.

"Our wedding reception?" Dan said.

"Yes. We were drinking scotch, after everybody left, and he said that."

"Mom? Did Brad make a pass at you? He's wanted to do something like that for years and I kept telling him you were off limits. When I wasn't there did he say something stupid? Tell me and I'll go kick his ass."

"You don't have to protect me," she blurted.

Dan's mind was racing. She hadn't answered the question. She said they'd been drinking. Did they get drunk and Brad took advantage of that to molest her? He knew Brad was crazy about her. It was insane. The man was helpless. Dan had put up with it initially because he was sure it was a crush. Brad had been very shy all his life. He couldn't talk to girls. He'd only been on half a dozen dates in high school, as far as Dan knew. And he had fixated on his best friend's mom. It had been a "Dream on" kind of situation, as far as Dan was concerned. He'd even said that a few times. Had he lost his inhibitions while they were drinking and made a move on his fantasy woman?

"Sometimes you have needed protection," he countered. "And you're my mom. I'll always want to protect you."

They moved to her bedroom and she sat on the bed. He handed her the towel for her hair and tried not to look between her legs. Her breasts were perfection but he tried to ignore them, too.

She took the towel, but just let it hang from her hand.

"I don't know what to do," she groaned. It was too much. It was crushing her. She saw no way out of the crippling depression that cloaked her. She was afraid for her own sanity.

"l know what you need to do," said her son. "You need to tell me what Brad did to you."

***************

It turned out the sky wasn't falling after all. Katherine found that out and experienced something very much like what members of the allied countries felt like when World War II was finally over. What had been crushing her into the ground disappeared almost instantly when her son said, "You went to bed with him? That's what's bothering you?"

"But he's your best friend," she whined. "And he's so young."

"Gee. So that means I can't be happy that my best friend bagged the best woman who wasn't even on the market? And I can't be happy for my own mother that the drought that was withering her finally broke and she got a well-deserved rain of … " He stopped and frowned. "Of romantic moisture?"

He threw up his hands.

"Okay, that was weird and this got awkward, but that's my fault, not yours. Mom, I love you. And I don't own you. And I love Brad, too, and I was sure he'd never land a hot …"

He frowned again. Then he stood up.

"I don't want this to be awkward," he said. "If you and Brad form some kind of relationship that the world would sneer at, then fuck the world. You guys deserve happiness and that's all that matters."

"So you're not … disgusted … that I let him seduce me?" There was a look of wonder on her face.

"No, Mom. I'm not disgusted. I know you had to feel something very strong to let him seduce you." He blinked. "At the risk of making this even more awkward, I'm going to show you something that I hope you'll take in the proper context, and which I hope will lay your fears to rest."

He stood up. His hands went to his waist and came away with the towel, exposing his naked body.

He was erect.

"We both thought you were a MILF, Mom. I get why he went out on this particular limb. I couldn't have you like that so I had to go find the second hottest woman in the world and thank my lucky stars that she married me. But when I think about you and my best friend in bed? Well, this happened."