It was one of those worst nightmare moments. Every parent has them. You try not to think about it happening and do everything you can to prevent it. Nevertheless, sometimes it still does. No, my situation wasn’t as devastating as it could have been, but I knew I had to do something about it.
I was going through my son’s room looking for clothes that didn’t make it into the hamper. I decided to do the sheets, although I usually save them for the weekend since they take so long to dry. I figured Keith wouldn’t mind me grabbing them a day early. I pulled the comforter off and was pulling the sheets off the mattress when I saw something fall at the foot of the bed.
My first thought was it was some sort of porn magazine, after all, Keith was 18 and full of curiosity. However, when I got to the end of the bed I knew exactly what it was, and it wasn’t porn. It was pot.
I bent over, picked up the baggie, and sat on the end of the bed as the realization hit me that my son was smoking dope. I opened the baggie and saw one rolled joint, some papers, and with a sniff, I confirmed about two ounces of fairly decent quality pot. I knew this from my own experiences as a teenager. But I also knew what I was doing, or maybe I just got lucky.
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I found myself wishing my husband was as good a father as he was a provider. A workaholic, he quickly moved up the corporate food chain to the position of regional director. It meant his traveling over an eight state region checking on other stores. In addition, when he was home, he rarely got home before 18 o’clock at night. No, I knew I would have to take care of this, even if I didn’t want to. I took the baggie and put it in drawer in my dresser and went about my household chores.
I actually got quiet a bit done with my mind preoccupied. I tried to go through every possible thing that could come up from my talk with Keith. Somewhere along the way, I found myself giving in to the thoughts that he wasn’t a bad kid, just like I wasn’t, and maybe if he was just careful, things would be all right. However, I knew as a parent I couldn’t do that. Maybe an older sibling could, like my sister did for me, but not his Mom. No I would have to be firm with Keith and let him know that smoking pot was unacceptable.
I had some time before Keith got home from wrestling practice and took the opportunity for a quick shower. Opening the drawer for clean underwear, I saw the baggie. I opened it up and took a sniff.
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I fished out the joint in the bag and checked my son’s rolling ability, if he was the one that actually did it. It seemed satisfactory and without thinking, I placed it to my lips as I had so many times in my younger and wilder days. I was caught by surprise when I heard the door close and Keith announcing his arrival.
“I’ll be down in a bit, sweetie. Just finishing up with a shower,” I hollered out the door.
I put the joint back, closed the bag, and exchanged it for a pair of silky panties and a matching bra. I quickly dressed and went downstairs. I found Keith with a jug of Gatorade watching TV in the family room.
“How was practice?”
“Not too bad,” Keith replied while surfing through the channels. “Is it okay if I go over to Steve’s later?”
“Well, actually I was hoping we could spend the evening together. Maybe get something to eat and then back here to watch TV or something,” I suggested trying not to give away my hidden agenda.
“Sure,” my son replied with the utmost lack of enthusiasm. “Do I need to change?”
I could see Keith’s hair was wet, so I knew he had taken a shower after practice. The jeans he wore were not his best, but at least it wasn’t one of the pairs with holes he loves to wear. The ones that I am sure make people think I don’t have enough money to properly dress my child.
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A T-shirt with some popular logo on it clung to Keith’s upper torso. The wrestling training was paying off in the body department for Keith. He wasn’t overly muscular, but well toned and defined. I actually began to wonder why they didn’t make guys that looked like that when I was in high school.
“No. I think you look just fine. ”
The meal was uneventfully normal. Small talk about school and wrestling, and me trying desperately to figure out just how I was going to bring up the subject I really needed to. The ride home was conversation free, with Keith selecting a radio station playing the latest in hip-hop (so the jingle said) and adjusting my car stereo so that it made the speakers actually vibrate with the songs.
It was about 7:30 when we got back to the house. Keith slinked into the family room and popped on the TV and started going through the channels. I fidgeted a bit and then sat down.
“Anything you want to see?” Keith asked.
“No, not really,” I replied.
I got up and made my way to the living room where the bar is.
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I poured a shot and downed it quickly, letting the burn wash over me. I then sauntered up the stairs, opened the drawer, and withdrew the baggie. Back down the stairs and another quick shot and I was back in the family room.
“Keith,” I said as I walked into the room. “We need to talk about this,” I said holding up the baggie.
Keith turned to look at me and focussed in on what I was holding. He took it from my hands, almost as if to make himself believe that I had been holding it. I took a seat on the chair to the side of the sofa he was sitting on.
“Want to tell me about that?”
“What do you want to know?” he asked back.
“I assume it is yours,” I asked and received a nod in reply.
“How long have you been doing this?” I queried.
“A few months I guess. ”
That would make sense. About the same length of time that he had been buddy-buddy with Steven.
“Why do you do it?” I wanted to know.
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“It just sort of takes the edge of, you know,” Keith explained looking up at me. “No, you wouldn’t know. I forget, you and Dad are perfect. ”
The comment put me on the defensive. I lost all track of my game plan to regain a sense of self that I hadn’t even lost.
“I know more than you give me credit for. I know that isn’t the best weed I’ve ever smelt,” I retorted trying to show that I did know something.
“How do you know that?” Keith asked.
“Well let’s just say I wasn’t always perfect,” I replied, apparently with the help of two large shots of whiskey.
“So you smoked pot before,” Keith asked with a sort of ‘I don’t believe it’ look on his face.
It was my turn to just nod in place of a spoken admission.
“So you know it’s no big deal, right?”
His words took me back to my own thoughts earlier in the day. I knew what I was supposed to say; it just felt hypocritical at the moment. But I was the parent.
“We’re not here to talk about me and my past, we’re here to talk about you and now.
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And you here and now should not be smoking dope,” I said in my best lecture voice.
Keith didn’t miss a beat and replied as if I had said mostly nothing at all. “So it was okay for you to take a toke or two, but not me, right?”
“That’s not the issue. There is more to it,” I tried in a persuasive voice.
“Like?” my son asked.
“Like pot being a gateway drug, and doing it responsibly. ”
“Did you go on to other drugs?”
“No,” I answered truthfully.
“So what made you so much more responsible than me? Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s not a matter of trust. I mean it is, but it isn’t. It’s a matter of, well, guidance. To have someone show you what is alright and what isn’t,” I explained to a blank stare. “To keep you out of trouble. ”
“So who guided you?”
Shit, this was not going like it was supposed to. I never imagined that this would get turned around like it was. And now, there was no way I was going to tell my son the things that his aunt and me used to do.
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“Someone I trusted,” I finally answered.
“So it would be okay as long as I do it with someone I trust?” Keith reasoned.
“Keith, as your mother, I have to tell you that smoking dope is wrong,” I lectured before looking at the floor and continuing. “But I can’t watch you 24 hours of the day, so yes, if you are going to do it, make sure someone you trust is watching your back. ”
“Cool. I pick you,” Keith said with a sudden grin.
“What?” I almost screamed.
“Who could be more responsible than you. And who could I trust more?”
“But, Keith, smoking pot is wrong. Besides it’s been years since I’ve done that,” I answered not sure I even believed what I was saying.
“But you want to. I know you do,” Keith shot back.
“What makes you say that, oh wise one?” I asked with a chuckle.
A smile spread over Keith’s face and he held up the baggie, “Your lipstick on this joint is a fair indicator. Besides, I can see things too.
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I’m not blind or stupid. Maybe you just need to take the edge off too. ”
Damn it. How did he get to be so smart? And they say smoking pot makes you dumb. The bad part is he was right. I had been so wound up that I guess the only person I had been fooling was myself. I was going through a period of my life where everything was either stressful or depressing. I watched as Keith stood up and made his way to the sliding glass door that led out to the deck.
“Come on Miss Responsible. Time for you to take the edge off,” he said before walking out the door.
I sat for a couple of minutes to regroup. Here I was, trying to be a good parent and teach my son about the evils of smoking pot. Instead he turns the conversation on me to the point that I basically give him permission to do just that. To make matters worse he looks right into my soul to see how miserable I really am. Maybe if I just….
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Ohhhh, that smell
My 18 year old son is on our deck smoking a joint right now. I get up, planning to tell him to put it out, but stop as I reach the door. Lynrd Skynrd said it best, ‘that smell will mystify you. ’ For just the briefest of moments, I was a teenager again. Confused, sacred and wanting so much that I couldn’t have. Then I caught my reflection in the sliding glass door and remembered I wasn’t a teenager, I was an adult and a parent with responsibilities.
I strode out the door and walked quickly to where Keith was sitting, the joint in his hand. I reached down and took it from him. I was about to walk away and get rid of it when I looked over at him. He had a not so sheepish grin on his face. He looked…happy. I looked down at the rolled weed in my hand and then back at my son.
“You know you want to,” was all he whispered.
Not only did I want to, I needed to. I needed to know if I could rekindle some of those old feelings and sensations.
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Without a second thought I brought the joint to my lips and took a small toke. The smoke was fairly harsh as it burned into my lungs in a similar way the whiskey had my stomach. I was glad I didn’t choke and just before I was ready to let it out, I handed it back to Keith, who was looking at me very wide eyed. I turned quickly and walked back into the house, feeling the very first sign of a high.
“Mom, are you okay?” Keith called after me. I didn’t answer but returned to the deck in short order.
“Here,” I said handing him a bottle of cold beer, “Use this to chase it down. Makes it not so bad in your throat,” I suggested, taking a drink from my own bottle.
Keith took a hit, held the smoke, passed the joint and I waited to see him exhale and take a drink from the bottle before doing the same myself. In short order, we had gone through two joints and four beers and had moved from the deck to a couple of lounges beside the pool.
“So, young man. Any love interests in your life?” I asked while gazing at a sky full of stars.
“I’ve got lots of interests,” Keith said. “Just seems they don’t have any interest in me. ”
“Well trust me.
That will change in a year or so. Then you won’t be able to keep them out of your pants,” I giggled.
“Mom!?!?” Keith gasped in surprise.
“What’s the matter? You think it’s just guys that think like that?” I asked.
“Yeah. Not that I know, but it seems girls just don’t look at it the same as guys. ”
"Girls, and some guys, do look at it different. Some don’t like it, for whatever reason, maybe bad experiences in the past or abuse, some put up with it like it is expected, and then some can’t get it out of their heads,” I tried to explain.
“So which one are you, Mom?”
“Depends. ”
“On what?” he wanted to know.
“When? Now or when I was younger?”
“Both,” he said with a grin you could hear in his voice.
“Well there is the difference between what you have and what you want. That sort of sums up the now,” I told him.
“I don’t get it. ”
I tried to put it into terms my young son could understand.
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“Let’s say you want a Ferrari. You want one real bad. It’s all you think about. Maybe you had the opportunity to drive one a few times, but it wasn’t yours to take for a drive anytime you wanted. But what you did have was an old VW bug. It’s an import, but not a sports car. It’ll get you where you want to go, but maybe not in the way you would like to get there. Understand?”
“Yeah. I get it. You’re buying me a Ferrari for my birthday,” Keith said with a laugh. “No, I think I understand. ”
“Trust me, you will fully understand after you bang your first Ferrari,” I told my son, suddenly feeling a bit flushed from the pot, booze and conversation. “How ‘bout a swim?”
“Sure, let me go change,” Keith said.
“Change? Who you going to be when you come back?” I responded with a laugh.
I grabbed two more beers and rolled another smoke and was in the pool by the time Keith returned.
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I know the alcohol and pot was having it’s usual effect on me and it didn’t help when Keith walked to the side of the pool in a swimsuit that I must have bought for him a year ago judging from how tight it was.
“Is that a big joint in your pocket or you just glad to see me,” I said before realizing the double meaning of my statement.
I could feel myself blushing slightly, but not enough to take my eyes of my maturing son.
“Funny,” Keith replied, “Which suit are you wearing?”
“I don’t think you’ve seen this one before, or at least I don’t think you have,” I replied.
“Really? Show me. ”
I took a deep breath and pulled myself out of the water. The look on my son’s face was precious. His mouth dropped open and his tongue almost fell out as he stared at his naked Mom.
“You like?” I asked.
“You’re right,” stammered, “I haven’t seen that before. ”
I enjoyed the fact that my son couldn’t take his eyes off of my body. It turned me on regardless of the fact that it was wrong. But how much wrong could I be? I had already smoked pot with my son, what harm could a little more naughtiness be. I dried myself off, picked up the joint, and lit it. I stood next to Keith and passed it to him as I picked up a beer and tossed some of it back.
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I waited until he had a lungful of smoke and his eyes full of my swaying boobs.
“You like them?” I asked. He held his smoke and nodded his head.
“Go ahead and touch them. You know you want to,” I teased using the same line on my son that he had used earlier on me.
Keith passed the joint and I thrust my 38DDs towards his eager, if not awkward hands. As I held the smoke, Keith explored my tits with his hands. It was an exciting touch, even if he didn’t know what he was doing.
“I got an idea,” I told my son after blowing out the acrid smoke. “Take a toke and while you hold it, put your lips over my nipple so you can suck and lick on it. Then when you are ready to exhale, let me know. ”
Keith didn’t speak, but took the bud from me and took a pull. His mouth very quickly found a nipple and latched on. What he lost in style was more than made up with his enthusiasm. He sucked and licked until he finally had to exhale and lifted his head.
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I held the back of his neck and brought his face to mine. I placed my mouth to his and with my tongue parting his lips, sucked the smoke from him and into me. At the same time, I let my tongue play with his and pulled him closer to me. At 15, Keith was already taller than my 5”6” frame and his head tilted down to meet me. As we kissed, I felt his hands begin to roam over my back to my ass. I returned the opportunity until my hand found the front of his swimsuit.
I broke off the kiss and moved back slightly without moving my hand.
“My God, Keith. What do you have in there?” I asked as I palmed the bulge in his swimsuit.
“Why? Is something wrong with it?” he asked with obvious concern.
“Oh, no. I surely don’t think so. But it sure seems like it wants to come out and play,” I replied while using my fingertips to trace the length of his hard shaft. “Do you mind?” I asked as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his swimsuit.
Keith shook his head and for the first time, his eyes left my body as he watched what I was doing.
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I had to be careful. It was difficult to get the tight suit over what looked to be a promising find. I ended up pulling the swimsuit away and placing my hand around his bare cock so I could slide the suit down without hurting my son. Once clear I knelt down and moved the waistband down to his ankles. This left me at eye level with my son’s raging cock.
“Is it okay?” Keith asked, still concerned.
“Fuck yeah it is,” I replied. “I bet the girls love this. ”
“I wouldn’t know,” Keith replied quietly.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You mean to tell me you have this magnificent piece of manhood here and you haven’t used it to make some girl extremely happy,” I asked without looking up.
“No, never,” my suddenly shy son responded. “You’re the first girl, ah, woman, to ever. . ”
“Not even a blow job?” I asked curiously watching the clear drops of precum leaking out.
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“No. ”
I grasped my son’s hard cock and pumped it a few times until there was enough pre-cum that it would start to string soon.
“Care to find out how it is?” I asked, throwing all caution into the wind.
“Huh?” Keith responded.
I didn’t wait any longer for a yes or no answer from him. His cock was doing all the talking and ‘it’ clearly wanted a blow job. I let my tongue slip from my mouth and carefully licked at the salty fluid. It was extremely satisfying to hear the groan from my son as he felt the first tongue on his young cock.
I let my hand reach under and feel Keith’s heavy balls. They were heavy and tight and obviously full of cum that wanted out very badly. I knew better than to tease him too much and pursed my lips and let my son’s cock slide between my lips. An almost painful groan escaped from his mouth as I worked my way down the shaft, letting my tongue dance as I felt his cock reach the back of my throat. I could feel me starting to gag slightly and pulled back.
“Oh, shit,” Keith replied.
I worked my way back down his hard shaft and then back to the head where I licked, sucked and slurped like the wanton slut I was becoming for my son’s cock.
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I looked up to see Keith looking down at me. It made me wild with desire to make him cum, a task his balls felt up to performing in short order.
I kept my eyes glued on my son’s face as I let his cock fuck my mouth. Like most men, and apparently by instinct, Keith’s hands soon found my head. He didn’t guide me, but it was clear he had no intention of letting me stop until he was done. I let a finger from the hand on his balls slip to the ‘taint’ spot between his ball sac and his asshole. I gently rubbed to further stimulate his prostate.
Keith’s eyes got wide as he watched and spoke. “Oh, shit Mom. Mom I’m going to…to”
He didn’t know what words to use, but I knew what he wanted and needed. I simply kept sucking up and down and nodded my encouragement at him. Within seconds I felt his cock swell and his balls shrink in my hand.
I moved my mouth to the head, went to work on the sensitive spot underneath, and used my other hand to stroke what wasn’t in my mouth. With his hands on my head, I watched as Keith’s eyes shut and his head rolled back. With a slight ‘oh, fuck’ escaping from his lips, he launched his first load of cum into my waiting mouth.
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He shot hard and fast, with the first two strings going straight down my throat without the need for me to swallow. I kept pumping and sucking and swallowing until his cock stopped spewing cum and only jerked from his rapid heartbeat. I didn’t want to stop, but I could tell Keith was over-sensitive from my activities. With a groan of my own, I finally let my son’s cock slip from my mouth.
I looked up to see Keith looking at me again, his face a cross between excitement and confusion.
“That was,” my son began to say.
“Fucking great,” I finished for him.
“Yeah. But. . ” he trailed off.
“But what?” I asked. “Didn’t you like it?”
“Oh yeah, I loved it. But isn’t it wrong for me to like it? I mean from you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I would say no more wrong than for me to sit and smoke dope and drink beer with you,” I replied.
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“So now what?” Keith wanted to know.
I stood up and moved over to the table and picked up the papers and the baggie.
“Now it’s time for a couple of more firsts. I hope you don’t mind if I smoke while you eat,” I said with a grin that only I understood at that moment. "You do get the munchies after you smoke don't you?"
.
