Bunco Squad

by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2000, 2009

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons
Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In
jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United
States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to
Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are
explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission
note must remain attached. 

Abstract: A young man is very interested to find out how his mother spends her
Tuesday nights 

Once a week, usually on Tuesday night, my mom went out for the evening and my
Aunt Bess stayed in the house. Aunt Bess was Mom's little sister, which still
put her about twenty years older than I was. My Dad died when I was ten, and my
aunt lived with us for a year and a half while Mom got our household affairs in
order and got herself a job. After that it was just Mom and me, except on
Tuesday nights. I asked Mom what the deal was, and she explained it was called
Bunco and was a wives game using dice. I never really got any better
description of it. Anyway, this had been going on for almost seven years. Mom
would leave around seven and get back somewhere near midnight. When I was
younger I'd be sound asleep by the time she got home; later on she'd poke her
head in my door and wish me good night if I was still awake. 

Over the years, Bess and I got to be good buddies; she helped me with my
homework and it was nice to get a break from Mom once a week. I cornered my
aunt once trying to get a scoop on Mom's Tuesday nights, whining the way a
twelve-year-old can. Bess pointed out that it was very hard to be a single
parent and that I shouldn't begrudge my mother her one opportunity a week to
unwind and keep her sanity. The way she explained it made me feel like a right
ungrateful little snot, and I didn't think about raising the issue again. 

Time passed; Mom got a promotion and had to go out of town occasionally, at
which times Aunt Bess would come stay at the house. I turned sixteen and spent
one wild Saturday with the captain of the girls' volleyball team, whom I later
found out made a ritual of deflowering virgins. Aunt Bess dated an auto
salesman and started wearing more revealing clothes, then broke up with him but
kept the wardrobe. She was also home when I came home from the volleyball
captain, and only needed one look at me to figure out what had happened, at
which point she gave me the low-down on the birds, bees, condoms and STDs. 

Toward the end of my junior year I was coming home one Tuesday from a late
study session, and heard loud voices when I opened the front door. Mom and Aunt
Bess were having an argument somewhere in the back of the house. "I tell you,
F---, you're going to have to do something soon. He's going to be dating soon,
you know, and then it'll be out of your control. Don't forget about that
volleyball incident." I was only half eavesdropping until that last comment,
then I got real alert but my mother's voice was too soft to carry well so I
didn't hear her response. My aunt quieted down as well, so I shrugged it off
and headed for the kitchen to grab a bite. When I got there I found my mom and
aunt, both looking somewhat put out with each other, but they each put a smile
on their face and gave me a big hug before Mom left for her Bunco game. I tried
to engage Aunt Bess in conversation later over a game of Uno, but she was
distracted and not terribly responsive. At least I won six and a half bucks off
her the way she was playing. 

The earlier conversation had reawakened my curiosity about Tuesday nights, and
I pretended to go to sleep after the ten o'clock news. When Mom got in, I kept
my eyes closed as she opened and shut my door, and stayed quiet until I heard
Aunt Bess drive off. Then I got out of bed and went silently across to Mom's
side of the house. I could hear her moving around in her room, then the beeps
of her making a phone call. I put my ear to the door and managed to barely
catch her side of the conversation: "...but I'm so close ... he's only... no,
I'm still wearing it... yes, I know... okay..." 

There were a few undecipherable sounds, then something that sounded like a
slap. Then another, then ten more in a steady rhythm. The next sound was of the
bed frame squeaking as if someone was bouncing rapidly on it, followed by a
strange mewing sound. If I hadn't known it was just mom and me in the house,
I'd almost have thought she had someone in there with her. I was both repelled
and aroused by the thought of my mother on her bed, legs spread for some guy. I
suddenly realized that the sounds had stopped and I was standing right outside
my mother's bedroom door with an erection in my shorts, and quietly scooted
back to my bedroom to take care of that problem. I made up my mind right then
that I'd find out what the deal was on her Tuesday night outings. 

I'd gone through a fairly intensive science experiment phase in junior high,
and I still had a lot of my equipment. Over the next week I managed to cobble
together a transponder and a detecting rig. It wouldn't range well, but our
town wasn't big enough that I shouldn't be able to track her car. During the
week I found myself looking at Mom in a whole new light. I hadn't particularly
noticed before, but she kept herself in good shape for a woman in her
mid-forties. Her business suits, while professionally cut, did nothing to hide
her long strong legs or disguise the curves under the jacket. She had a full
mane of brunette hair that came down just below her shoulders and really framed
her face nicely. Aunt Bess had looked pretty hot when she was dating the auto
guy, but I now realized that Mom looked hot even without such an obvious
wardrobe. 

The following Tuesday I "remembered" in the morning to tell Mom that I had a
study group at Ken's and that we were planning to go out for pizza or something
afterward. When I got home after school, I gave Aunt Bess a quick kiss and hug
and we had a quiet dinner until Mom left. I picked up my schoolbooks and left
about five minutes later. I had the detecting rig hooked up to the cigarette
lighter for power, and when I started up the car I heard the transponder
signal, wobbly but clear. 

I drove halfway across town hearing the signal strengthen and fade, then turned
ninety degrees and drove up and down, managing to get what I hoped was a fairly
decent estimate of her location within, say, about fifteen blocks square. It
took me an hour of slow driving, trying not to look like a suspicious
character, until I topped a rise in one neighborhood and saw her car parked in
the garage of a two-story house. I was lucky to see it, as my detecting rig
wasn't sensitive enough to handle close work, and not all of the streetlights
on that stretch of road were working. 

I parked about a block further down the street, and walked back ducking in and
out of the shadows until I got to the two-story house. I worked my way between
the bushes and the brick exterior, getting thorn cuts for my efforts but not
hearing anything at the side windows. Around the back of the house I found a
promising spot, a thin window low to the ground, where apparently the house had
a basement. I got on my hands and knees among the strong-smelling flowers and
listened at the window, but couldn't quite distinguish much in the muffled
sounds other than the hubbub of female conversation and a light clattering
noise. I yawned, and pressed my ear to the window but still could only catch
fragments of words that seemed to fade away... 

I woke up in darkness, my head fuzzy. A few things slowly made their way into
my consciousness -- I was lying on something soft, my arms and legs were held
outward from my body, and I could feel the air conditioning playing on my bare
skin all over. I started to yell, or at least say something, but right at that
moment a warm wet tongue slid into my ear. Moist breath caressed the side of my
neck, and my body reacted the way all teenagers do. All of a sudden, talking
didn't seem like a major priority for me. The tongue and lips moved down the
front of my neck, and spent some time on my rudimentary nipples, sending little
flashes of sensation straight from there to my now throbbing but untouched
cock. I was biting my lip by this time, and when the unknown mouth suddenly
dove down on my erection I let out a yelp and exploded, lifting my hips up as
far off the floor (or bed, or whatever) as my restraints would let me. Fingers
played around my testicles and the mouth swallowed until I was drained, limp,
and panting from exhaustion. 

My mom's voice said "Don't worry, you'll have more fun the second time
around." 

I nearly sprained something trying to jump up and run, but the restraints were
very secure. I felt the comforting touch of my mother's hand along my forehead,
soothing me as she had done so many times when I was little. But of course, I
wasn't little, I was practically a grown man now, and being naked in front of
my mother was just way different than it had been when I was little. Still, I
managed to calm down as her palm stroked my temple and she said, "I've got a
story to tell you, dear, so please relax and listen." 

"Your father, bless his heart, wasn't terribly good with money. I didn't know
this until after he died, when I found out we were over our heads in debt. I
found a job with your aunt's help, but that only took care of covering the
mortgage, food and clothing; it didn't take care of the back bills, and it
looked like I would have to sell our house." 

"Then your aunt came to me with a proposal. You probably don't know this,
because we've kept you pretty sheltered, but your aunt is a very sexual woman,
always has been going back to when she and I were growing up. Anyway, she
belonged to a kind of sex club in town, and she got the group to offer me a,
well, arrangement. If I would put myself at their disposal once a week, they
would take over our past debts and arrange to get them paid off in
installments." 

I squirmed and started to protest, but Mom laid her hand on my mouth and
quieted me. "I know, dear, but remember I was looking at having to sell our
house, move to a different neighborhood, you would have had to change schools.
And besides, this was my sister..." Mom drew a long breath and continued.
"Sometimes the entire club gets together, but usually on Tuesday night I go to
someone's house; maybe a man, maybe a woman. I get a phone call in the morning
telling me where and what to wear. Sometimes we just play cards or watch
television. Sometimes I give them a manicure or bath. Sometimes... well, you're
a senior in high school so you can probably imagine." 

I could indeed imagine, and the images of my mother with strange men and women
were urging my erection to full mast despite myself. 

"So, dear, you have a choice to make since you followed me here. As I see it,
you have three options. You could get up and go home, and promise not to follow
me again. I can assure you that Aunt Bess will be more than happy to enforce
that. She thinks you're cute but need some discipline, and I can't say that
she's always wrong about that." 

I wasn't sure whether I liked the thought of Aunt Bess giving me discipline or
not. 

"Or, you can stay here for the evening. There are two other women here, and
although you'd have to keep the blindfold on I'm sure you could make yourself
useful. I promise you'd be well rewarded for your energy and enthusiasm;
they've both told me how much they would enjoy having an unspoiled young man to
play with." 

"Finally, and this would be entirely up to you, Aunt Bess and I could propose
you for the group. You're old enough to make your own decisions, and you might
find the company and the experience somewhat more broadening than going to the
drive-in with that girl from your history class. I know I'd be flattered to
have you join me, I mean us." 

I thought about it, and finally agreed to stay with the blindfold for now and
think about the group later. Right after I said that, I felt smooth hands and
fingers running over my arms and legs, unfastening my bindings. I was a man of
my word; in the next several hours I didn't come close to trying to take off my
blindfold, even though it meant I had no idea whose breast I was suckling on,
nor who was riding me to her own orgasm. When the evening was over, I got a
six-handed sponge bath that would have had me raring to go if I'd had the least
bit of strength left in my poor aching worn-out groin. 

Mom left the room, telling me I could get dressed and come out when I was
ready. I did that, and when I opened the door she was waiting for me, dressed
demurely and holding her purse. "Mom..." I started, but she shushed me, saying
"I know, there'll be time to talk later. Right now we have to get you home,
young man. It is, after all, a school night!" She gave me a ride to where I had
my car parked, and followed me home from there. 

When we got home, Aunt Bess was waiting up for us. First she gave me a big hug
and a decidedly non-Aunt kiss on the lips, then she gave my Mom a big hug and
the same kind of kiss. My eyes got big, and it occurred to me that the rest of
my senior year might just be very interesting. 

Later that night, after I'd brushed my teeth and gotten into bed, Mom opened
the door to my room just as she always did. "Good night, hon," she said. I held
her from going, saying "Mom, I've got one question though. You've been doing
this for something like seven years now. Just how bad off were we when Dad
died?" 

I heard my mother chuckle in the darkness. "Oh, that. Well, to tell you the
truth, son, I paid off the last of those debts two years ago. Sleep well,
dear!" 

/END/ 

Endnote: Published in Consent Magazine, Issue #22, www.consentmag.com