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Message-ID: <28583asstr$980633403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Scorpio00155 <scorpio00155@my-deja.com>
Subject: {ASSM} After The Party Is Over 1/2 (M/F, inc, son-mom)
Date: Sat, 27 Jan 2001 17:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

After The Party Is Over - Part 1
By Scorpio00155(c)

"Damn it," my husband Sam muttered, "he'll do the doors a mischief if
he keeps that up."

The 'he' my husband was referring to was our 15 year old son Tom who
was suffering what the behaviourists would call teenage angst, putting
it more bluntly Tom was in a right sulk and a teenager sulking was
calculated to get everyone on edge.

Though on this occasion I suppose he had a good excuse to be sulking,
he was supposed to be going to a party later that day, but his date had
been grounded by her parents for some reason and the party was
a 'couples only' affair. If he had been a typical hormonal teen Tom
would have had a 'back-up' girl waiting in the wings, only Tom wasn't
exactly typical. Truth be told I was a little worried about him and I
knew his father was too, Tom rarely seemed to go out and socialise, the
girl that had been going to the party with him was in fact his first
girlfriend. What was worse from his point of view was that this
particular party was a 'must be at' for teenagers, and of course he
wasn't going to be there.

"He'll just have to get over it." Sam sighed.

I nodded in agreement with my husband while wondering if we could
survive this 'getting over it' period. Looking across the table at Sam
I wished he wasn't going away that weekend, but the conference he was
attending had him as a guest speaker so he couldn't back out of it. At
51 Sam was still a dynamic businessman that was still teaching 'young
upstarts', as he called them, a few tricks. He was less successful in
his bedroom skills, but I loved him nevertheless despite the 20-year
age gap between us, I can still remember the shocked looks when I had
announced that I was to marry a man in his thirties. I suppose those
gasps came in part that at the time I was only fifteen. A year later I
was to present him with a son.

A door banging upstairs jerked my mind back to the present; this sulk
had now lasted three days, or put another way ever since he'd had that
fateful call from his girlfriend.

"If I knew how to go about it I'd hire him a girl for the night!" Sam
said with a sigh.

And from his words an idea suddenly formed in my head, if all my son
needed was a female to show off why not his mother. Feeling pleased
with myself I passed my thought on to my husband who put down his
coffee cup and looked at me as though I were daft.

"Well," I said defensively, "I won't know anyone there so they won't
know I'm Toms' mother.... and besides, with the right clothes and make-
up you know I can look almost 18 or a bit younger."

"You don't have to tell me how good you can look or how young." Sam
grinned then frowned, "I'm not sure it's such a good idea though, Tom
might feel a bit restricted with his mother hovering all the time."

"I would not hover!" I protested, "At least he'd get to go to the party
and have a dancing partner for the night."

"Alright, alright Sara," Sam gave way reluctantly, "have it your way.
Put the idea to him and see what he says."

As if on cue Tom walked into the room, his face bore such a pout it was
hard not to giggle, slouching across the kitchen he went to the fridge
and got himself some juice. He definitely looked one unhappy teenager.
I couldn't hide a small grin as I twisted in my seat to face him.

"Tom," I started, "about this party...."

That was as far as I got before Tom's face filled with a look of anger,
he was all set to give me some sort of cutting remark when his father
looked up and simply said: "Listen to what she has to say then blow
your top, if you still want to."

Tom shut his mouth and gave me his number one bad mood glare, he stood
waiting for me to say my piece so I quickly obliged him and put forward
my idea. As I spoke he looked at first incredulous, then thoughtful and
then his sulky looked returned.

"It would never work mum." He grumped at me.

"Why not?" I asked bluntly, "No-one there has met me and I can dress to
look a lot younger, young man."

"Yeah but...." he started t say.

"It's your mother's suggestion or nothing," Sam commented firmly, "take
it or leave it. I suppose it all depends on how important being at this
shindig really is to you."

It was obviously very important to Tom to be seen at this do, yet he
still seemed unconvinced and I could see his features weave their way
through all the pros and cons of having his mother as his 'date' for
the evening.

"Well?" I asked after a long five minutes had passed.

"Oh all right." He finally sighed, "It's not as though I have much
choice in the matter."

"Well thank you!" I responded feeling miffed by his tone.

"It's not that mom," he got in quickly, "you are a right smasher,
only.... well I mean...."

He faltered lost for words that would explain what he meant without
digging himself an even deeper hole. In the end he gave up trying to
talk himself out of the hole he'd dug for himself and that was that.
With the party only a couple of hours away I needed to go bathe and
doll myself up, and Tom had some preparing of his own to do. With Sam
shaking his head we left the kitchen to go get ourselves ready for the
night ahead.

After a nice long shower that left my body tingling I went into my
bedroom to dress, as I passed the dressing mirror I paused to admire
myself. As you can tell, I was a little vain, but then again I had some
justification in being so, at 31 I still had my girlish looks and
weekly sessions at the gym had kept my body firm and trim. Grinning at
my reflection I took my 'party' clothes out of their hiding places,
suspenders, black stockings, lace bra and panties finished the
undergarments and a slinky wrap-over dress completed the ensemble. Then
it was to my dressing table to apply my make-up, by the time I had
finished I looked 15 years younger, just young enough to be
Tom's 'girlfriend' in fact. Feeling pleased with myself I headed
downstairs expecting Tom to be waiting impatiently for me to arrive,
instead only my husband was there.

"Damn!" he grinned as I entered the living room, "How the hell do you
do it Sara, you look almost exactly the same as you did when we got
married!"

I grinned and gave him a cheeky little curtsey, which of course drew
his attention to what I was wearing, he frowned then looked me in the
eyes.

"Sara," he sighed, "just don't do your usual."

"My usual?" I frowned.

"Your usual," he said shaking his head, "forget whom you went to the
affair with. I know you enjoy attention and like to flirt, but you lose
focus and your partner. I'm used to it and I don't mind that much, but
Tom is having a bad enough time accepting that the only way he can get
to this shindig is with his mother as his date, he won't take too
kindly to his own mother wandering off to flirt with the other males
there."

"Oh Sam, I'm not that bad!" I protested knowing he was right.

"Maybe you aren't, maybe you are," he grinned taking the sting out of
his words then became serious again, "but if you thought Tom's sulking
was bad you wait and see what it's like if you do end up doing your
usual thing."

Of course I promised I'd stick with Tom and give him all my attention
for the whole night, though Sam still looked doubtful. Anyway, he had
no more time to discuss the matter as Tom appeared in the living room
doorway and I have to admit that he looked a very handsome figure,
which made his non-socialising more of a pity. Sam looked at this watch
then said he'd give us a lift to the party stating it would be quicker
than waiting for a taxi or mini-cab, as a result we got to the party
just after eight. Even being early we weren't the first to arrive by a
long shot, the party was already in full swing so Tom and I got
ourselves a drink then danced a few fast dances together. Tom looked to
be enjoying himself and when we stopped for another drink he was
smiling, though I'm sure he would have preferred to be with his
girlfriend. We were about to go back to dancing when Tom leaned over to
me.

"Won't be long," he said softly, "I need the bathroom."

"Okay." I smiled.

He'd barely left the room when another boy came over and asked me to
dance, I figured that by the time Tom got back the boy would be back
with his girlfriend, who I could see with a small group laughing and
chatting. So I agreed and was soon bopping away to the music with this
boy, just before the record ended I saw Tom wandering back into the
room; he saw me dancing and went to get himself a drink. A few moments
later the record ended and I was all set to go back to Tom when another
boy came over to me as the next record started and asked me to dance.
The boy seemed so eager that I hadn't the heart to say no; soon I was
dancing to the music with this boy. I have to admit that I was enjoying
myself, it seemed I was a popular dance partner as a steady stream of
boys came over to dance with me and when at around nine thirty the
music became slow and smoochy I didn't hesitate about letting one of
the boys take me in his arms and start drifting around the floor.

A while later one of the boys let his hands drift lower than they
should, I know I should have objected or something, but I was having
too much fun and it just seemed sort of natural anyway. Things sort of
escalated from there, the boy sort of kissed me and I sort of let it
happen, then the record ended and another boy took his place. Within
seconds of the music starting this boy had his hands on my bum and his
lips on mine, I thought it a bit cheeky, but at the same time I enjoyed
his attention and just settled in to enjoy myself. The boy certainly
was cheeky; about half way through the record I felt one of his hands
sliding up my body and onto my tit.

"Naughty." I said to the boy softly.

"Do you mind?" He grinned at me and squeezed my tit.

I laughed and let him get on with his touching me up, it was as his
lips came back on mine that I had the nagging feeling that I was
forgetting something, but his roving hands distracted my thoughts
before they could gel, though the feeling I had forgotten something was
there in the back of my mind throughout the night. And that seemed to
set the pattern for the rest of the night; each boy that took a turn to
dance with me lost no time in kissing me with his hands roving over me.
My husband was often amused by the liberties I let some people take
with me when I was in the mood, Sam called me his little flirt and
tonight I was flirting like crazy. More than a few of the boys were
more daring, these ones let their hands slide into the wrap front of my
dress to get a good feel of me, but two boys in particular were
exceedingly daring.

The first of these two took me in his arms at around ten, he had his
hand in the top of my dress almost as soon as we got together, but he
didn't stop there, his hand pushed into the cup of my bra and I felt
him squeezing my bare boob. When I didn't make a fuss he started to
play with my nipple and I'm afraid I gave him encouragement by letting
loose a small hum of pleasure as he teased my already hard bud. Half
way through the dance he slid his other hand into my top forcing it to
gape around his wrists, then his hand was inside my bra playing with my
other nipple. Shortly before the record ended he moved one of his hands
down my body and slid it into my dress and straight onto my panties,
for a few short moments he stroked my pussy through my panties. By the
time the record came to an end I was more than a little excited and a
bit disappointed that the boy let go of me and let another take his
place.

The second daring boy was the most precocious of the lot, like most of
the boys before him, one of his hands was into my bra as soon as the
music had started, he felt up my tit then started to tease my nipple.
Moments later I felt his other hand slide around my body from my bum
and I expected it to rise upwards to my other boob, it was a surprise
when I felt the hand slip into the wrap of my dress and onto my
stockinged leg. I have to admit that I was curious as to how far this
boy was going to try going, my curiosity was soon satisfied, without
any hesitation his hand slid up my leg and onto the crotch of my
panties. As his hand press to my pussy he parted out lips and looked me
in the eyes with a knowing grin on his face, I could hardly deny I was
feeling somewhat excited, not with his hand feeling the dampness of my
pussy through my panties. The fact that I didn't object or try to move
his hand away was all the encouragement he needed, as his lips
descended on mine again his hand pressed and rubbed at my pussy with a
firmer pressure. As our bodies moved with the music his hands moved on
my body, one hand in my bra teasing my nipple, the other stroking my
pussy more and more demandingly. When something touched my back I
realised he had manoeuvred us into a quiet area outside the main room
and now had me with my back pressed to a wall. All pretence at dancing
went and he got down to some serious snogging and fondling, at one
point the hand at my boob moved, a moment later I felt a tug at the
knotted fabric belt and my dress went loose. This of course made it
easier for him to fondle me, something he lost no time in doing by
returning his hand to my boob, cheekily sliding my bra upwards to let
my tits free of their minimal protection. Then his warm hand was back
to its teasing and squeezing of my boobs and nipples, meanwhile his
other hand kept up its motions on my pussy, I could feel my flimsy
panties getting wetter as they pressed into my pussy under his sliding
fingers. Leaning back against the wall I decided to let him get his
jollies and hopefully a climax or two of my own. Pretty soon he had
decided that I was enjoying his actions and went a stage further by
slipping his hand in the side of my panties, moment later one of his
fingers slipped all the way into my pussy, my juices coating it as he
began to slide it in and out of me.

Once again he parted our lips and looked into my eyes, the growing
excitement he must have seen in my eyes appeared to please him because
he pushed as second finger into me and began to finger fuck me firmly.

"I shouldn't be letting you do this." I murmured half-heartedly.

"But you are." he grinned broadly, leant his head down and sucked at
one of my nipples.

I felt myself rising to an orgasm under his touch, it seemed a shame to
miss out on a climax, and so I let out a low moan and pushed my tit
tighter to his mouth. By now he had pushed my panties all the way to
one side and was going at both my pussy and my clit unhampered by even
their flimsy material. Having his mouth on my nipple left him a hand
free, this he used to grasp my wrist and to guide my hand down his
crotch. I was surprised to find that instead of the fabric of his
trousers I came in contact with his hard cock, I have no idea when he
had managed to release it from his trousers. The few times in the past
that things had got to this sort of stage Sam had stepped in after a
few minutes to put a damper on the guys ardour, but it dawned on me
that Sam wasn't there this time. As I started to wank the boy I hoped
that was as far as he was planning on going, I might be a an outrageous
flirt, but I am no pushover and in all the time I'd been with Tom the
nearest I'd ever got to being unfaithful was the time I sucked a guy
off at a party, mind you I was so drunk at the time I could barely
stand. This time there would be no Sam to suddenly appear to save
my 'honour' and a touch of concern filtered through my pleasure. I was
just rising to a peak of pleasure when the boy raised his mouth from my
nipple.

"Bet this is way better than anything that wimp of a boyfriend does for
you." He grinned then went back to sucking on my nipple.

"Boyfriend?" I responded in a puzzled tone as I felt my climax rising.

Just like that the nagging thought gelled into just what it was I had
forgotten, my son, Tom! My pending orgasm died on the spot as I pushed
the boy away from me and readjusted my clothing. It was a little after
midnight when I left the boy standing there with his dick hanging out
of his trousers and a look of shocked disbelief on his face. Quickly I
looked around the main room, but there was no sign of Tom, though I
noted that the numbers of people present had dropped quite a bit and I
realised that the party had been breaking up for some time. A small
knot of boys and girls was standing talking so I went towards them to
ask if they'd seen Tom, but, as I got closer I could hear their
conversation and it stopped me in my tracks.

"Think Henry has finished with the slut yet?" one of the girls was
asking; "Only I need to get home."

"He'll be a while yet," one of the boys replied with a laugh, "when I
last looked he'd only got his hand in her cunt."

"What a whore!" one of the girls laughed.

Shaking off my shock at their words I finished my approach to them, as
soon as they saw me the conversation changed, but the damage was
already done.

"Has anyone seen Tom?" I asked biting back anger.

"Tom?" one of the boys mused, "Oh you mean the wimp you arrived with.
Yeah, I saw him, it was about two hours ago as he left in a huff."

"Oh shit!" I muttered to myself as I rushed off to get my coat and
purse.

With an ever-growing feeling of major guilt I called a minicab and
berated myself mentally for doing the very thing my husband had warned
me not to do! Although the cab only took five minutes to arrive it
seemed to be an eternity during which my feelings of guilt rose and a
deep shame at what I had done to Tom by forgetting he was there filled
me. When the cab came I sat impatiently in the back urging the driver
to go faster.

"Listen lady," the driver said without turning his head, "there's no
way I'm speeding, we get there when we get there."

We got 'there' fifteen minutes later, dreading facing the consequences
I rushed into the house.

"Hi hon." Sam greeted me as I entered the living room, his smile
becoming a frown when he saw I was alone, "Where's Tom?"

"He's not here?" I asked with panic in my voice.

"No, he's not." Sam replied, "Don't tell me, you went and did your
usual even after I warned you not to!"

I blushed with guilt and shame, hanging my head unable to voice a
reply, but my demeanour was enough to tell Sam that he was right on the
button.

"Oh Sara how could you!" he sighed, "This is all I need, the cab will
be here soon to take me to the airport to catch my flight. When did you
last see him?"

"Around nine." I replied with tears welling up in my eyes, "Someone
told me later that he'd left around ten, ten thirty."

"Christ, and you didn't notice he was missing for over two hours?" Sam
gasped in dismay.

I could tell that Sam was holding back his anger at my actions; his
concern now was where our son was.

"I hope he hasn't one something stupid." He muttered darkly.

"He wouldn't.... would he?" I gulped.

"Sara, Tom was already down from being dumped already this week," Sam
replied, "now you go and do it to him again. You know how introverted
he is, two blows like that, especially as one of them came from his own
mother, will have had some negative impact on his ego. He's a mixed up,
depressed teenager, he could do anything!"

"Oh God!" I cried with my tears flowing down my cheeks.

Just then the front door opened and closed with a bang, the figure of
our son passed the living room door and Sam called out to him.

"What?" Tom snapped as he came back to the living room doorway.

"Where have you been?" Sam asked firmly.

"Bloody well walking home!" Tom snorted.

I noted that throughout all this he wasn't looking at me at all, in
fact he was acting as though I wasn't even there. I also noted that his
eyes were reddened as though he'd been crying.

"Your mother was worried," Sam persisted quietly, "your leaving like
that without a word frightened her."

"Yeah," Tom half muttered, "and how many hours later was it that she
even noticed I wasn't there?"

"Tom I...." I faltered as his eyes looked at me for the first time; the
anger, betrayal and hatred I saw there took the words out of my mouth.

Looking back to his father Tom totally ignored my presence again and
this, more than anything else hurt me to the core.

"She would have assumed you were dancing with the other girls there."
Sam said in my defence.

"Oh yeah, fat chance," Tom snorted in disgust, "if I'd tried that I'd
have had my head kicked in. The only mug there was me and I sat half
the night like a prat waiting for her to remember I even existed."

"That 'her' is your mother boy." Sam responded a little annoyed now.

"Yeah, so you tell me." Tom snapped back, "Well you can keep her!"

The venom in my son's voice made me gasp in dismay, even Sam seemed
momentarily lost for words.

"Apologise to your mother." Sam said at last.

"What mother?" Tom snorted.

"Tom!" I gasped with my heart feeling as heavy as lead.

"That's it!" Sam snapped in anger, "Apologise to your mother or go to
your room and be grounded until I get back."

"Fine." Tom replied turning to leave the room.

"Tom, please," I called out to him desperately, "I'm sorry, Tom, God
I'm so sorry!"

He left the room as though I hadn't even existed let alone cried out to
him, if he'd turned and slapped me across the face the shock couldn't
have been any greater! Despair filled me and I had no-one but myself to
blame for alienating my own son by my actions. As Sam opened his mouth
to speak the doorbell rang, with a curse he went to the door, a moment
later he looked into the living room.

"It's my cab," he sighed, "I have to go love. Damn it, why did this
have to happen tonight!"

"But Sam," I gasped in despair, "what do I do about Tom?"

"I have no idea," he replied with a deep sigh, "you could try making
peace with him while I'm gone, if he'll talk to you. I'll try talking
to him when I get back on Friday."

He gave me a brief kiss and hurried out to the cab with his suitcase in
hand leaving me alone with the consequences of my actions. A few
minutes later I went upstairs and tapped at the door of Tom's room,
there was no response so I tried again a little louder, but there was
still no response.

"Tom?" I said softly.

There was no answer so I tried to open the door and was shocked to find
that he'd locked it.

"Tom!" I called out, "I need to speak with you."

"Go away you.... you.... whore!" he called back at me, "Don't come near
me, don't even talk to me!"

Stunned I turned away from his door and stumbled as though in a trance
to my bedroom, flopping onto the bed I began to cry, sobs wracking my
whole body as I heard his words of rejection over and over again in my
head.

I must have cried myself to sleep because the next thing I knew I was
waking up on top of the bed, fully clothed and feeling awful. Waking
brought back the tears and the echoes of his words; I felt as though my
whole world had crumbled when he'd voiced those few words. Wishing I
could turn back the clock I got undressed, showered and put on dressing
gown, even the shower hadn't been able to wash away my tears or the
guilt I felt. It was only seven in the morning, but the first thing I
did when I got downstairs was to pour myself a large vodka. Sitting in
the living room I cried and sipped in equal measures, before long the
glass was empty and I poured myself another, I think I was trying to
drink myself senseless, but this day drinking wasn't working. At the
same time I was hoping that Tom would come down from his room, that
he'd give me half an opportunity, but as the time passed it became
clear that he had no intention of stirring from his room unless forced
to.

About nine the telephone rang, it was Sam ringing to let me know he'd
arrived safely and to ask how things were. I sobbed out what was
happening to my husband, even what Tom had called me.

"He didn't mean it love." Sam tried to comfort me.

"You didn't hear his voice Sam," I sobbed, "he meant it! And he's
right! I am a whore!"

"Sara, calm down," came my husband's soothing voice, "Tom's upset and
just lashing out. Give him time, he'll settle down again."

"I wish you were here Sam," I wept back, "I can't bear this alone. Tom
hates me, he really hates me Sam!"

"I wish I was there too hon," Sam sighed, "but I'm stuck here. As for
him hating you, I doubt that. I doubt that very much. Sara you need to
pull yourself together and try to talk with Tom, deep down he loves you
darling, he'll listen sooner or later."

As he rang off I hoped he was right, but my inner fears kept telling me
that I had managed to drive my son away from me. Nevertheless I tried
to talk to him, which wasn't easy through a locked door, but I stood
leaning against the door to his room and talked my heart out, all I got
in return was silence. Heartbroken I eventually went back to the living
room and poured myself another drink; sitting alone with my misery I
watched the living room doorway in the vain hope that Tom might appear.
At about noon I heard his door close, with hope blossoming I listened
to the sounds of him descending the stairs, and then he came into view
in the hallway.

"Tom?" I said as he walked past the door.

He totally ignored me, not even glancing my way as he left the house.
Two hours later, two hours of despair for me, he returned and even
though I stood in the hall directly in front of him he acted as though
I wasn't there. There wasn't even a flicker of a glance my way as he
brushed past me and went back up to his room, stunned I went back into
the living room, collapsed on the couch and just stared mindlessly at
the carpet at my feet. I sat there for hours lost in my guilt and
despair; even the growing darkness in the room didn't draw my attention
from my misery.

The sun rose on the Sunday morning to find me still sitting in the same
position, sleep had not even been a passing thought as I sat lost in my
desolation. Wishing I could just curl up and die I decided to make
another attempt to talk to Tom, with a heavy heart I made my way up to
his locked door, as I leant against it I could have sworn I heard a sob
from the other side of the door.

"Tom?" I said softly, "Please Tom, I need to talk to you."

There was no response, had I not known better the room could have been
empty. His silence hurt me to the core, but out of sheer despair I
persisted.

"Please Tom," I pleaded, "just give me five minutes. Just five minutes,
please Tom, please, I'm begging you Tom."

After ten minutes it finally sank in that he was not going to even
acknowledge my presence let alone respond to me. In a waking nightmare
I stumbled back downstairs and fell onto the couch weeping my heart
out, knowing that the whole situation was my fault just made me feel
all the worse. The strident ringing of the telephone drew my attention
eventually, but even knowing that it was likely to be my husband
calling I couldn't summon the will to make the small movement to answer
it. On and on it rang as I sat staring blankly at the floor through my
tears. Suddenly the sound stopped and I heard the mutter of a voice, my
heart leapt as I turned my eyes in the direction of the phone to see my
son standing there with the receiver to his ear.

"Tom!" I breathed.

"Yes dad," he said into the receiver ignoring me completely, "she's
here."

The venom in his voice made the breath catch in my throat as I listened
to my son's side of the conversation numbly.

"I don't care any more dad.... She sure showed it that night! ....
No! .... Fine, I'd rather.... But.... I'm not the one that.... I....
But.... Yes dad. He wants to talk to you."

I couldn't believe that he'd spoken to me directly, for a moment I just
stared at him, finally he thrust the receiver towards me and I took it
dazedly.

"Sam?" I almost whispered into the receiver.

"Sara," my husband's voice came through the instrument, "I've persuaded
Tom to give you a chance to talk, for God's sake don't blow it!"

"I'll try not to Sam." I breathed, "Thank you."

"You'd better get talking to him before he changes his mind," Sam
replied, "I'll call again tomorrow. Bye for now my love."


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