TABOO TALES(erotica)

Matt chose the last booth in the rear, upholstered in dark red and located in a remote corner that was even darker than the rest of the place. He told Janice to sit facing the restaurant and opposite Floyd and himself.

Their waiter was an attractive guy in his late twenties who managed not to stare at the silent, sultry brunette who was clearly not wearing a bra. After ordering minestrone, Pasta Alfredo for the boys, a tomato-based pasta for Janice, and a bottle of Sangiovese, Floyd told Janice how different she was from all of his friends’ parents; how attractively she dressed and how beautiful she looked. The waiter served the wine and left. They drank. Janice, who was nervous, had two large swallows.

“That’s not the only way she’s different,” Matt said. Janice froze, her soup spoon halfway to her lips. The minestrone slid off, splashing onto the table and staining her blouse.

“What do you mean?” Floyd asked.

“Janice does whatever I tell her, wherever she is, don’t you, Mother?”

She drank another large mouthful. “Yes, Matthew,” she mumbled, desperately looking around to see how far away were the other diners, her breath deepening.

Matt knew he was lucky to have Floyd for a roommate, since he was the son of one of the college’s wealthiest and most influential alumni. He was aware that Mr. Wheland had put them together. Besides, Matt immediately liked Floyd; Mr. Wheland said Floyd was smart and fun to be around. Floyd started on a breadstick. “These breadsticks are stale,” he warned.

Matt topped off her glass. “For example, Floyd, it’s not good manners for her to sit at the table with us wearing a sweaty blouse. Why don’t you ask her to remove it?”

Floyd’s cock jumped at the sensational invitation. He watched while Janice and Matt looked at each other for a long moment, as if there was a detailed communication between them. Matt was excited, not only about slutting out his mother to his roommate, but also about testing what he guessed was yet another of his mother’s depravities the willingness to be exhibited and humiliated in public.

“Go ahead,” Matt urged. She gulped more wine.

Floyd gulped. “Okay. Janice, unbutton that filthy blouse.” Staring at Floyd, her eyes fiery, she finished off her glass. Matt emptied the rest of the bottle into her glass.

She had a reprieve that was only momentary-the waiter brought their main course along with a second bottle of wine. “Careful, these bowls are extremely hot!” he said and immediately departed. The two bowls of Pasta Alfredo were drowning in sauce.

Both boys stared at her. “Could we switch sides?” she asked, so that she wouldn’t be facing the rest of the restaurant. They shook their heads. Like a zombie, she slowly unbuttoned the blouse. Without being asked, eyes staring at her food, she opened it until her breasts were bare. Once she was exposed, she drank again.Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

“Good lord!” Floyd muttered, his forehead perspiring, staring at the magnificent, marked breasts and near-black nipples, incredulous that his new roommate’s own mother was not only a submissive but also a flagrant exhibitionist.

Matt held the basket of hard breadsticks under her. “Put two of these inside,” he ordered. After swallowing more wine, she inserted the breadsticks under her skirt and into her cunt. “Don’t just sit there,” Matt said. She began pumping the 8-inch stick up her cunt. “You have two hands,” Matt said. “Use them both.” She began rubbing her clit and stroking her pussy with one hand while forcing the breadstick dildos with the other, all the while squirming on the booth seat.

Matt picked up another breadstick and dipped it into the steaming Alfredo sauce. “Put this in your ass. Between the sauce and Floyd’s load that’s still there, it should slide in easily.” Dazed, the slave obediently took the dripping breadstick, slid down further in the booth, and with one motion drove the dildo all the way into her rear.

“Janice is also an excellent cook,” Matt said as he tipped his bowl of Pasta Alfredo toward Janice so the excess sauce pooled at the lower end. “She’s especially talented with sauces. Floyd, do what I’m doing.” Matt spooned the sauce from his bowl onto his bread plate. Guessing what was coming, Janice grabbed her glass and drank.

Floyd followed Matt’s lead with his own bowl and sat dumbfounded as Matt upended the bread plate over her right breast, the hot cream sauce making her gasp in pain. “Go ahead,” Matt prompted. Floyd repeated the process on her left breast, her chest heaving. The boys stared as the steaming Alfredo streamed off her breasts onto the dark wood of the table. Matt and Janice were both reminded of when her breasts had looked similar, first at the pool and then in the den with the martini glass and creamsicle.

Floyd recoiled as Matt quickly slapped a breast, causing drops of white sauce to go flying onto the dark red booth walls and the table. Matt looked at his sticky hand and smeared it across Janice’s cheek. To Floyd, her incredible face looked like somebody had jerked off onto one side of it. Matt struck the other breast and wiped his hand across her other cheek.

The waiter was turning the dark corner to approach their table when he stopped and stared from the shadows, stupefied by the sight. This beautiful woman, who’d been pouting since she arrived, now looked half-drunk, exposing her reddened and goo-covered breasts, her face glistening. There was so much muck coating her that the waiter assumed both boys must have beat off onto her. He never thought she might be covered in something other than their semen.

“Harder,” Matt ordered. She began moaning quietly, pumping her ass and cunt, oblivious of Floyd and unaware of the waiter. “Faster.” As the woman began to cum, Matt leaned over, grabbed both of her breasts at the base and squeezed downward to her nipples, forcing the remainder of the thick sauce onto the table. The waiter’s mouth fell open in astonishment, his prick pressing painfully against his trousers.

The woman’s head whipped around as she orgasmed, flopping around, but fortunately she made hardly any noise. It was after she slid down the booth in exhaustion, her head just above the table, that she opened her eyes and saw the good-looking waiter between the boys’ shoulders, standing in the shadows. The knowledge sent another surge through her cunt. Clearly, the boys didn’t know she was being watched. The waiter gasped but remained where he stood, frozen with the fear that she’d tell the two guys and he’d be fired.

“Mother,” Matt called. Her eyes fluttered. “You can close your blouse after you’ve cleaned the mess off the table and eaten your pasta.” Looking at the waiter, she leaned forward over the table, bent and extended her long tongue to lap up the sauce. To him, it appeared that she was cleaning up after a gangbang. Between every few licks, she’d pause and subtly glance at him.

The boys were still ignorant of his presence. When she was done with the Alfredo, she buttoned her blouse, polished off half her glass to clear her palate for the change from the cream to the tomato sauce, and ate her pasta in silence, finishing her glass while the boys talked with each other.

The moment the boys left for the bathroom and for Floyd to have a smoke outside, she cleaned her face with a napkin, unabashedly staring at the waiter. He approached the booth, crazed with desire. While yanking his zipper and extracting his boner, he pulled her off the seat so she knelt on the floor, his back facing the restaurant. She blew his mind in three ways: first, she deep-throated him almost immediately; second, she looked up into his face almost the entire time, drunk but beautiful; and third, she was incredibly skillful, bringing him off in less than a minute and swallowing all of his jism.

By the time the boys returned from Floyd’s smoke, the waiter had vanished, the table had been cleared, and Janice was dabbing her lips this time, not covered with Alfredo sauce with the napkin.

“Are we having dessert?” Floyd asked.

“We are, but back at the apartment. Janice will be our dessert.” She looked at her son and then stared into Floyd’s eyes. What she saw there disturbed her enough to make her squirm with apprehension and excitement. For Floyd’s eyes had a hard, cruel glint in them. She guessed he was much more experienced and . . . creative than her innocent nephew, Alex.