Best Laid Plans: A Summer Camp Swingers Novel

We slowly separated, and I sat on the edge of the tub. My cock felt harder than ever, ready to explode. Mom put her hand on my inner thigh and watched as I wrapped a fist around the base of my shaft. She caressed my smooth balls with her other hand. I began stroking, and she unconsciously moistened her lips in anticipation. Her eyes stayed glued to my shaft.

I didn’t last long after that. She moved closer when she sensed my impending release. Then she closed her eyes and tilted her face up to receive my seed.

I came with a grunt and an explosion of jizz. The first spurt arced across her nose and mouth. She flinched but held steady as the next shot hit her cheek. I shifted my aim and coated her other cheek. The last spurt was more gush than geyser, and it oozed over her lips and down her chin. I released my hard-on and sat back, exhausted.

Mom carefully opened her eyes and blinked to make sure they were clear. Then she smiled up at me. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” I said, and ran a finger along the line of her jaw. I offered it to her, and she sucked the semen. I spread my come over her lips and let her lick it off. Her eyes flashed with pleasure, so I slowly cleaned her face and offered my sperm-covered fingers to her. When we finished, her skin glistened with the remains of my orgasm.

She leaned forward to suck the last trickle of come from my slowly deflating cock. Then she made a noise deep in her throat and wrapped her lips around my glans. She nursed my cock for a minute or two before she finally let it slip from her lips. She smiled up at me and rested her head on my thigh.

“Night-night,” she said with a sigh.

I chuckled.

“Wake me up when you’re ready for another round.”

“Will do,” I said, and almost meant it.

Chapter 9

We closed down the hot tub a little while later.

“Do you want to come in through the master bedroom?” Mom asked.

It was a question on the surface, but the subtext was the real message. She wasn’t inviting me to her bed. She was asking which door I’d like to use, on the way to my own bed. She didn’t want to sleep with me and didn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying so. Fortunately, I felt the same way, that sleeping with someone was more intimate than sex. I was intimate with Christy, not my mother.

“Nah, that’s okay,” I said. “The living room door is closer.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that I understood. “Okay. Sleep tight.”

“You too.”

She gave me a motherly kiss goodnight and then we went to our separate bedrooms.

I climbed into bed and lay awake for a while, thinking about what had happened and what I wanted to tell Christy, if anything. I still hadn’t decided, but I remembered that I’d promised to call, so I rose and went through the kitchen. I found the note where I’d written Brooke’s phone number and sank into a chair as I dialed. She answered on the fourth ring but shrieked before she could even say hello.

“Um, hello?” I said.

“Sorry,” Brooke answered, more composed. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Paul. Everything okay?”

“It’s Paul,” she said to Christy. To me, “Yeah, sorry. We’re just having a party. Don’t worry, it’s private.”

“And we aren’t drinking!” Christy shouted from the background.

I wondered if anyone ever had a phone conversation with just one of them. Then I listened to them wrestle for control of the phone. Christy eventually won.

“No fair,” Brooke complained in the distance. “And you spilled my drink!”

“Hello?” Christy said. She sounded winded but happy. “Sorry about that. Hold on.” She covered the mouthpiece and said something to Brooke that I didn’t hear. “Okay, I’m back,” she said. “Sorry. She’s going to open another bottle of wine. Oops! I said we weren’t drinking.”

“I kinda figured it out,” I said dryly.

“You caught me. We’re just having a silly girls’ night.”

“Sounds like it. And it sounds like you picked up right where you left off last summer.”

“Oh, we have, Paul. It’s wonderful. Brooke’s wonderful. Sometimes I wonder why I ever left San Diego. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I did—I’d’ve never met you if I hadn’t—but she’s so fun.”

“Well, good,” I chuckled. “You need to let your hair down sometimes.”

“And speaking of hair, you won’t believe what she did! Well, you’ll see for yourself when you get here. I’ll give you a hint, though: there’s less than there used to be.”

“Really?”

“Mmm hmm. That’s all I’ll say for now. Hold on a sec. She’s back with wine. Here, talk to her.”

“Hey,” Brooke said. “When’re you coming out here?”

“Saturday.”

“Oh, that’s right! We’re s’posed to pick you up at the airport. Christy showed me pictures. You’re cute.”

Christy herself squawked in the background.

“Thanks,” I said. “I haven’t seen pictures of you, but she said you’re a redhead?”

“Yeah. Up top, at least. Not down below.” She tried unsuccessfully to muffle a snicker. “Not anymore.”

“That’s what Christy said.” They both sounded like they’d had several glasses of wine already.

“I always wanted to do it,” Brooke continued, “so I thought, ‘What the hell?’”

“Exactly.”