Our Neighbor's A Porn Star 2

Barbara has it all. A good job, a good son, and a new lover who used to be an adult-film actress.

But a chance remark leads to the realization that her lover, Heather, is sleeping with her son, Nate. And now her imagination is aflame. Is her son really as good in bed as Heather says? There's only one way to find out. Because now it's Mom's Turn!

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

He took a long shower, trying to loosen the knot of muscles in his back, but felt only marginally better when he emerged into his bedroom, a towel loosely draped around his hips. “Mom! Shit! Give a guy some warning, will you? I could have been naked.”

She waved a careless hand. “I saw everything you have when you were two hours old. And a thousand times since then. You're not going to shock me. Now lay down,” she said pointing at the bed. She uncapped a bottle, releasing a sharp scent, as he obeyed her orders, lying on top of the indifferently made blankets.

His eyes stung. “Christ, Mom, what is that stuff?”

“It's a secret,” she replied. “Now hold still.” He flinched as a pair of hands, covered in cold goo, came down on his shoulders. “It's going to burn a bit,” she continued apologetically, rubbing it in. Indeed, the heat seemed to flow out from her hands. It was almost uncomfortably hot at first, but it seeped deep into his flesh, loosening and unknotting his strained muscles, and in a few minutes he let out a sigh of comfort.

“Not much fat here,” she said softly, her hands sweeping up and down.

He snorted softly. “With hockey practice three nights a week? Good luck.”

“Well, make sure you don't pack on the 'freshman fifteen' when you're at school next year,” she said tartly. “Lord knows that's a problem on my side of the family.”

His lips curled. Grandma Mueller could be best described as 'cheerfully plump.' And his grandfather could stand in for Santa Claus if he could be convinced to grow a beard. “I'll try.”

She smacked his butt, the slap somewhat muffled by the towel covering his rear. “Don't try. Do. I don't want to see you coming back here for Thanksgiving with a beer gut and a double chin.”

“Thanksgiving?” He turned his head to look at her. “I'll be back before that. It's not that far from Laramie to here. You're acting like it's the moon.”

“I'm happy to hear that, honey.” For a moment her hands stilled, then took up their task again. “I'm going to be lonely here, without you.” Now the motions were almost caresses. He bit his lip, trying not to melt into a puddle of sensual pleasure.

Meanwhile, hidden from his mother's view, another part of his anatomy was displaying a perky interest in the goings-on. He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, trying to keep it hidden. Whatever his mother might say, he doubted she would be quite as calm if he displayed a massive erection. An erection which could only have one cause. He wouldn't even be able to blame it on morning wood. Despite himself, his hips twitched down, grinding his groin into the warm comforter. A certain dampness told him that he was leaking pre-cum from his slit.

Please stop. Please, don't stop.

“How's the back?” Barb asked, interrupting his lust-fogged thoughts. “Better?”

“Much better,” he grunted. He kept his eyes closed, afraid of what she might see if he opened them. She might understand. His mother was remarkably open-minded about some things. But he didn't want her to laugh it off. He didn't want her to see him as a boy, unable to control his own body.

How do you want her to see you, then? As a man? And what does that mean? Are you seeing her as a woman, Nathaniel? Aren't you already having blazing hot monkey-sex with Heather? What more do you want?

I want…her.

My mother.

Oh, Jesus. You have lost your mind.