Moms Get Hung Up On Teens Hanging Ten
by DiscipleN
Chapter 1
"I gotchu, Mommy! I gotchu!" Arnold Michaels tugged on his yarn lasso. Holly Michaels was surprised more by her son's behavior than the simple loop he had dropped over her head and shoulders. "You're fifteen, Arnold." She reminded him but giggled saying it. His silliness was infectious.
"He's so adorable." Jean Peralta squeezed the handle of her tea cup as she gushed with unexpected frivolity.
"I'm 'dorble TOO!" Race Peralta popped his head out from under the table cloth. He had been hiding from Arnold. He was the Navajo. The three youngest boys present: fifteen, fifteen, and fourteen, had taken classic roles.
In addition to the native, Arnold was the sheriff, and Oscar was the bandit (not so secretly waiting to ambush anyone who dared to go from the dining room to the living room). The fourth boy, Jeffery, wasn't anything. Seventeen, he sat at the table, drinking hot chocolate, thinking that his brother and friends looked ridiculous playing a silly kid's game. He was listening to the mothers chatter. They sometimes talked about sex stuff.
The mother of Jeffery and Oscar Hughes, Carol, gave Arnold a tiny smile below heavy eyelids. "What are you going to do your Mommy, now that you got her, Sheriff?"
"I'm gonna 'rrest her!"
Jean, Race's mother, joined the pretending. "What for? What crime did your Mommy commit?" She winked at Holly.
"Uh-" Arnold pouted while he thought. His mommy was really good and nice.
"Mommy!" Race tugged on the hem of his mother's knee length skirt. "What about me?"
Jean didn't skip a beat. "Shhh. Navajo are silent hunters, Race. If you make a fuss, the sheriff will catch YOU!"
"I want to be the sheriff." Race grumbled. He wanted to arrest HIS mom.
"I got this, Jean." Carol bent down and lifted the dangling tablecloth. She peered beneath, across from the kneeling boy. "Race, there's a wildcat stalking about under here. Only a Navajo can flush it out. You'll win your Mom's heart if you can catch it and pet it."
Race looked behind him. Carol was a real pretty lady, not as pretty as his mother, but his eyes zeroed in on the cleavage revealed as Ms. Hughes bent down, boobs dangling behind her thin, yellow linen blouse. His mouth formed an involuntary O.
Above the table, Arnold had remembered. "Mommy won't let me eat any more cookies!" Upon arriving, he'd gobbled six from a jar Carol had presented. His mother cut off his supply with a curt, "Leave some for the other boys."
This time the women were meeting at Carol's home. Holly and Arnold had arrived minutes behind Jean and Race. The mothers tried to chat in person as often as twice a week.
They had first met on a research forum for parents of children with a specific, genetic anomaly. The forum included parents from all over the world, and the forum software utilized the most advanced, real-time translation technology to help facilitate their serious discussions.
Although the anomaly was identified in the '90s, its expression wasn't researched until recently. Other, more dire and less political, genetic traits took priority. When funds were finally made available to study the anomaly, the majority of scientists involved shared the opinion that the odd DNA sequence, found only in a Y chromosome, was more puzzling than dangerous, but the researchers who had male children were more motivated to figure out just what it was doing besides the obvious. The gene, known as "1473:819:84115" was critical in the production of testosterone and other androgens.
In short, "1473:819:84115" made testicles grow twice as large. The penis was unaffected according to the original study, but some researchers worried that the original scientists had been pressured to keep measuring tools away from that naughty bit. Nobody could deny that the testes were oversized, but because the penis wasn't affected as obviously. Studying it was discouraged.
The other piece of the "1473:819:84115" puzzle was, puberty was delayed by a couple years. This sounded an alarm in the medical community and among world leaders frightened by declining fertility and birth rates. The new study conducted a world-wide screening of DNA samples to identify pre-pubescent children with the trait.
Carol, Holly, and Jean received emails from their various insurance agencies, inviting them to join the program. They were three out of a dozen parents in their city who logged into the study's online forum. The majority were asked to record their sons' behaviors and take measurements of testes and sperm production, the latter only for the first year of puberty. Semen samples could be dropped off at participating hospitals, but that was entirely optional. A subset of the test population were asked to bring their sons in for monthly exams.
As a social group, the participating parents were largely shy. Most were embarrassed to be on the forum and contributed only the information requested, submitted privately. Many asked questions on the forum. All had joined out of concern for their sons. A brave and bold few took to building community among the members - through empathy, optimism, and humor. That upbeat minority included Carol, Holly, and Jean. When they discovered they lived in the same city, they immediately sought to meet in person.
"Oh, so you're going to arrest me in order to get more cookies?" Holly gave her son the stink-eye.
"Um, it's too late for that, Mommy." Arnold beamed. "I have to take you to jail now."
"You can use the hall closet. There's just some old coats hanging there." Carol raised her hand from her bent down pose and pointed in the closet's general direction.
Holly rolled her eyes but played along. She stood, careful not the tear the yarn looping the top of her bosom. Her son lead her away from the table, beneath which Race finally stopped ogling Ms. Hughes' cleavage.
"Wildcat?" He looked around.
"Be very sneaky, Race." Carol put a finger to her lips. "You don't want to spook it."
He shook his head no. But where was it? He wanted to make his mommy happy, and for her to be proud of him. Race's pout alerted Carol to his dilemma. She pointed to Jean's legs, then she spread her knees slightly as an example.
An O returned to Race's lips, this time from epiphany.
When small, warm hands touched her bare legs, Jean suspected her good friend hunkered below the other side of the table. "Carol?" She called unhappily.
The gathering's host popped back up, smiling. "Yes, my dear?"
"Why is Race reaching up my skirt?"
Carol made a shocked face. "Could it be because he's looking for a pussy?"
GACK! Jeffery almost spurted hot chocolate when he heard his mother's saucy reply. He froze up, embarrassed.
The women blushed. That didn't stop Jean from retorting, "The cat seems to have caught your son's tongue."
"POW! POW!" Little Oscar shouted, pointing his finger gun at Arnold. "I shot you, Sheriff!" He had leaped out, ambushing Arnold and his captured mother on their way to the hall closet.
Arnold squawked, "No you didn't! The sheriff is the good guy. I'm supposed to shoot you!"
Oscar fought back a youngster's tears. His lower lip trembled. "That's not fair."
"Sheriff Arnold." Holly told her son. "You were shot, fair and square, but it doesn't have to be the end of the story. Now fall down, and maybe some fair maiden will heal you." She raised her hands in surrender to the wicked bandit, Oscar Hughes. "I am your prisoner, Mr. Bandit."
Arnold grumbled at first, but when his mother mentioned a fair maiden, he thought that could be fun. Maybe not as fun as taking his mom to jail, but he glanced into the dining room, where two, better than fair looking women were blushing. He sank to the carpet and sprawled wounded across it. "Aaarrrggghhh!"
Jean squeaked when she felt her son's hand reach between her thighs just above the knees. He was trying to spread her legs. A giggle squashed her concern. Silly boy. She patted his head.
Carol's attention had snapped to her youngest son when he declared, "…not fair!" She witnessed Holly defuse the situation and watched Arnold fall to the carpet. Whereupon, he glanced at herself and Jean. It seemed as if a fair maiden was needed. Carol winked at the prone Arnold. She stood from her chair to attend him.
"Damn." Jeffery regretted not playing with the younger boys. They sure were getting a lot of sexy attention from their mothers. He wondered what they had spiked their coffee with. He tried to get himself to join the fun but felt like an outsider wishing he hadn't thought he was above their silliness. One other thing compelled him to avoid his brother and the other boys, but he didn't have a name for it. Certainly, it wasn't cowardice. Jeffery was the oldest by well over a year, and he was strong and athletic, a far cry more manly than the other boys' and their slightly delayed puberty.
At Jeffery's right, around the table, Jean squeaked and squirmed in her chair. His mother, Carol, went to Arnold and leaned over the teen's sprawled form. "Oh my! The sheriff is wounded!" Arnold opened his eyes and smiled. He saw two big boobs dangling within Ms. Hughes' thin, yellow blouse. The attractive woman reached down and pulled his wrist. "Let's get you somewhere where you can heal." She indicated the living room's couch.
Oscar had tied yarn around Holly's wrists, adding to the lasso around her shoulders. Holly cried softly, "Where are you taking me, you villain?"
"To my secret cave." He led her into the hallway, to the closet, and abruptly, what was suppose to have been a jail became a cave.
"What are you going to do with me?"
"I'm gonna pillage you, Ms.Michaels."
"Oh dear, that sounds devastating!"
Oscar opened the door for her, and Holly put on a brave face before entering the dark recess.
"I have to rescue Mo- uh, my prisoner!" Arnold lurched up from the couch, but Carol pushed him down upon its cushions. "Sometimes, the sheriff doesn't get there in time. You're still wounded." She sat beside his head, raised him up and scooted her butt so he could lay his head in her lap. Her two boobs were suddenly a lot closer, and Arnold weighed rescuing his mom against possibly touching a woman's chest. "Uh, how will I get better?" He asked Jeffery and Oscar's mother.
"You need some nutrition, Sheriff. You ate a bunch of cookies earlier, but haven't washed them down with milk, yet." Carol grinned and gently shook her shoulders. Not constrained by a bra, her breasts wobbled enticingly. "Do you know where milk comes from?"
From cows? He almost asked, but then he remembered. A couple weeks ago Carol had said she was donating her milk to a charity. Race had asked where she bought the milk from, and Carol had briefly hefted one of her boobs. Arnold had been amazed to learn that women made milk in their chests! And Carol was special because she continued to pump milk from her boobs years after Oscar had stopped nursing. Suddenly Arnold's sheriff predicament made total sense! Nurses healed people, and milk was nutritious. "Can I nurse on your milk?" He looked up eagerly.
"Really?" Jeffery overheard Arnold asking his mother to nurse on her. He couldn't believe his ears, and almost got up to confront his mom in the living room, but he noticed Jean had closed her eyes, and her lips made a tight line as if she was in pain. She whined as if she was. Jeffery had to peek under the table to find out what Race was doing.
The hidden boy's elbows spread his mother's legs on her chair. He was reaching into her skirt with the glee of an Olympic winner. "I think I see you, wildcat." Jean's hands pressed on her son's head to keep him out of her loins. Race giggled. "Navajo hunter is gonna catch you and pet you."
From down the hall, Holly cried out, muffled through a closet door.
Jeffery ducked out from under the table and shot up to his feet, pushing his chair away with his thighs. "Mom? What's going on?" He strode into the living room.
There, his mother had pulled down the vee of her blouse to reveal her left breast. A white dot seeped out of its aureola before the two boys' gazes. Arnold puckered his lips, about to clamp them around the inviting, dark bud of her turgid nipple. Jeffery's unexpected question shook sense into Carol, and she covered up her breast and gulped. "Whoops."
Another cry from the hall closet sent Jeffery to investigate, having succeeded in preventing his mom from letting Arnold nurse on her. He jerked open the closet door and found Oscar madly kissing Ms. Michaels! His hands were gripping and groping her large bottom cheeks through her pale lavender slacks.
"Who are you?" Oscar pouted, breaking away from the fun he was enjoying.
Holly turned bright red, redder than she had been when the fourteen year old had grabbed butt and kissed her on the lips! Despite embarrassment, she found the right words. "Jeffery is the stage manager, Oscar. It's time to stop pretending and go home."
"No! I don-wanna!" The boy stamped his foot.
His exciting captive escaped his groping hands and his secret cave. "Sorry, Sweetheart, but that's show business." Holly felt terribly guilty. She avoided meeting Jeffery's stunned gaze.
Arnold jumped up from the couch, "Mommy!" He too blushed, out of guilt for not rescuing her. They embraced in the living room.
A minute later, Jean was still struggling to keep her persistent son from grabbing her pussy. He had managed to pull aside her plain cotton panties, shouting "Caught you!" Upon his first but dark glimpse of his mother's thick, brown pubic thatch.
"Ahem." Carol cleared her throat. She stood in the dining room entrance. Beside her, three blushing boys and a red faced Holly Michaels watched Jean resist her son's hidden actions.
"Oh, my!" Jean cried and jumped away from the probing fingers, nearly tipping over in her chair. She landed on her feet and Race's pout appeared from under the tablecloth. "Drat." He huffed.
Little was said between then and a half hour later, when the two visiting mothers thanked Carol for hosting and drove away in separate, crossover SUVs.
Texts flew between the parents that evening after dinner.
"What happened? What did you put in the coffee, Carol?" -Jean
"It's the same coffee we had three days ago." -Carol
"Did anyone else think it was strange that our boys would suddenly play a kid's game?" - Holly. Her son, Arnold was fifteen.
"I wouldn't be surprised by anything that teenagers did. When I was fourteen, I was playing a lot more seriously with boys." -Jean. Her son, Race, was also fifteen.
"They acted and even sounded like much younger kids." -Carol. Her Oscar was fourteen, and Jeffery was seventeen.
"I kinda liked that. It reminded me of when they were much younger, so animated and playful." -Holly
"Slut!" -Jean
"She meant that in a good way, Holly. And I know what you mean. I had fun too, pretending, but we got carried away." -Carol
"You started it, by telling Race he could find a cat between my legs." -Jean
"You could have jumped away at anytime, Jean. But you waited until you were caught." -Holly
"I still want to know … WHY? Could it have something to do with our sons' condition?" -Jean
"Jeffery was the only boy who didn't play. He doesn't have it, right?" -Holly.
"Only Oscar has the condition." -Carol
"I just feel like it affected us, somehow." -Jean
"We should mention this to the researchers." -Carol
"What are we going to tell them, that we got all flirty with our sons? Don't either of you DARE." -Holly
"We've been getting together for more than a month. Why now?" -Jean
"Good question, Jean. Maybe the effect takes time to build up. As far as I know, we're the only participants who are getting together physically." -Carol
"Three special boys in the same house for couple hours, two or three times a week, I doubt that's ever happened. The condition is so rare." -Holly
"It took a special research program to bring us together. You're probably right." -Jean
"Sooo, when are we getting together again?" -Holly.
"Are you kidding?" -Jean
"How about, tomorrow?" -Carol
"How do we know something worse won't happen?" -Jean
"Think of it as an experiment. It's not like we got all mind-controlled. We just got a little carried away. I'll tell Jeff to snap us out of it if he sees it happening again." -Carol
"I can host. Gavin will be inspecting a meat packing plant a hundred miles away, and he'll stay in a hotel overnight. I won't have a car. -Holly
"Good. I think he made a pass at me after you hosted last week." -Jean
"You think all men make a pass at you." -Carol
"Because I'm worth it. <winking emoji>" -Jean
"He probably did. Gavin and I are in a rut. I honestly wouldn't hate you if you hooked up with him. As long as I got equal opportunity with some hot guy." -Holly
"Eeew! Puleeze, Holly. Gavin? Gag me. He's nice and all, but I go for less nice when I can get it." -Jean
"Must be nice to be single." -Carol
"Oh no, Carol! Are you in a rut with Ricardo?" -Holly
"We sex-up just fine. I'm lucky to have that, but my libido is a lot stronger. I wear out dildos regularly." -Carol
"Maybe that's why you were the first to crack." -Jean
"Stop it, Jean. Pointing fingers isn't our style." -Holly
"Sorry, Carol. I didn't mean it like that. I'm single, lonely, occasionally sex starved, but I'm glad horniness doesn't haunt me. Friends?"
"Kiss my wedding ring, and I'll forgive you. <smug emoji>" -Carol
"Kiss my <butt emoji>!" -Jean
"It's settled. Drive over to my place, after you pick up your kids from school tomorrow." -Holly
It would be only the second time that the three moms had gathered two days in a row. None of them suspected it as a sign of things to come.
...to be continued...
by DiscipleN
Chapter 1
"I gotchu, Mommy! I gotchu!" Arnold Michaels tugged on his yarn lasso. Holly Michaels was surprised more by her son's behavior than the simple loop he had dropped over her head and shoulders. "You're fifteen, Arnold." She reminded him but giggled saying it. His silliness was infectious.
"He's so adorable." Jean Peralta squeezed the handle of her tea cup as she gushed with unexpected frivolity.
"I'm 'dorble TOO!" Race Peralta popped his head out from under the table cloth. He had been hiding from Arnold. He was the Navajo. The three youngest boys present: fifteen, fifteen, and fourteen, had taken classic roles.
In addition to the native, Arnold was the sheriff, and Oscar was the bandit (not so secretly waiting to ambush anyone who dared to go from the dining room to the living room). The fourth boy, Jeffery, wasn't anything. Seventeen, he sat at the table, drinking hot chocolate, thinking that his brother and friends looked ridiculous playing a silly kid's game. He was listening to the mothers chatter. They sometimes talked about sex stuff.
The mother of Jeffery and Oscar Hughes, Carol, gave Arnold a tiny smile below heavy eyelids. "What are you going to do your Mommy, now that you got her, Sheriff?"
"I'm gonna 'rrest her!"
Jean, Race's mother, joined the pretending. "What for? What crime did your Mommy commit?" She winked at Holly.
"Uh-" Arnold pouted while he thought. His mommy was really good and nice.
"Mommy!" Race tugged on the hem of his mother's knee length skirt. "What about me?"
Jean didn't skip a beat. "Shhh. Navajo are silent hunters, Race. If you make a fuss, the sheriff will catch YOU!"
"I want to be the sheriff." Race grumbled. He wanted to arrest HIS mom.
"I got this, Jean." Carol bent down and lifted the dangling tablecloth. She peered beneath, across from the kneeling boy. "Race, there's a wildcat stalking about under here. Only a Navajo can flush it out. You'll win your Mom's heart if you can catch it and pet it."
Race looked behind him. Carol was a real pretty lady, not as pretty as his mother, but his eyes zeroed in on the cleavage revealed as Ms. Hughes bent down, boobs dangling behind her thin, yellow linen blouse. His mouth formed an involuntary O.
Above the table, Arnold had remembered. "Mommy won't let me eat any more cookies!" Upon arriving, he'd gobbled six from a jar Carol had presented. His mother cut off his supply with a curt, "Leave some for the other boys."
This time the women were meeting at Carol's home. Holly and Arnold had arrived minutes behind Jean and Race. The mothers tried to chat in person as often as twice a week.
They had first met on a research forum for parents of children with a specific, genetic anomaly. The forum included parents from all over the world, and the forum software utilized the most advanced, real-time translation technology to help facilitate their serious discussions.
Although the anomaly was identified in the '90s, its expression wasn't researched until recently. Other, more dire and less political, genetic traits took priority. When funds were finally made available to study the anomaly, the majority of scientists involved shared the opinion that the odd DNA sequence, found only in a Y chromosome, was more puzzling than dangerous, but the researchers who had male children were more motivated to figure out just what it was doing besides the obvious. The gene, known as "1473:819:84115" was critical in the production of testosterone and other androgens.
In short, "1473:819:84115" made testicles grow twice as large. The penis was unaffected according to the original study, but some researchers worried that the original scientists had been pressured to keep measuring tools away from that naughty bit. Nobody could deny that the testes were oversized, but because the penis wasn't affected as obviously. Studying it was discouraged.
The other piece of the "1473:819:84115" puzzle was, puberty was delayed by a couple years. This sounded an alarm in the medical community and among world leaders frightened by declining fertility and birth rates. The new study conducted a world-wide screening of DNA samples to identify pre-pubescent children with the trait.
Carol, Holly, and Jean received emails from their various insurance agencies, inviting them to join the program. They were three out of a dozen parents in their city who logged into the study's online forum. The majority were asked to record their sons' behaviors and take measurements of testes and sperm production, the latter only for the first year of puberty. Semen samples could be dropped off at participating hospitals, but that was entirely optional. A subset of the test population were asked to bring their sons in for monthly exams.
As a social group, the participating parents were largely shy. Most were embarrassed to be on the forum and contributed only the information requested, submitted privately. Many asked questions on the forum. All had joined out of concern for their sons. A brave and bold few took to building community among the members - through empathy, optimism, and humor. That upbeat minority included Carol, Holly, and Jean. When they discovered they lived in the same city, they immediately sought to meet in person.
"Oh, so you're going to arrest me in order to get more cookies?" Holly gave her son the stink-eye.
"Um, it's too late for that, Mommy." Arnold beamed. "I have to take you to jail now."
"You can use the hall closet. There's just some old coats hanging there." Carol raised her hand from her bent down pose and pointed in the closet's general direction.
Holly rolled her eyes but played along. She stood, careful not the tear the yarn looping the top of her bosom. Her son lead her away from the table, beneath which Race finally stopped ogling Ms. Hughes' cleavage.
"Wildcat?" He looked around.
"Be very sneaky, Race." Carol put a finger to her lips. "You don't want to spook it."
He shook his head no. But where was it? He wanted to make his mommy happy, and for her to be proud of him. Race's pout alerted Carol to his dilemma. She pointed to Jean's legs, then she spread her knees slightly as an example.
An O returned to Race's lips, this time from epiphany.
When small, warm hands touched her bare legs, Jean suspected her good friend hunkered below the other side of the table. "Carol?" She called unhappily.
The gathering's host popped back up, smiling. "Yes, my dear?"
"Why is Race reaching up my skirt?"
Carol made a shocked face. "Could it be because he's looking for a pussy?"
GACK! Jeffery almost spurted hot chocolate when he heard his mother's saucy reply. He froze up, embarrassed.
The women blushed. That didn't stop Jean from retorting, "The cat seems to have caught your son's tongue."
"POW! POW!" Little Oscar shouted, pointing his finger gun at Arnold. "I shot you, Sheriff!" He had leaped out, ambushing Arnold and his captured mother on their way to the hall closet.
Arnold squawked, "No you didn't! The sheriff is the good guy. I'm supposed to shoot you!"
Oscar fought back a youngster's tears. His lower lip trembled. "That's not fair."
"Sheriff Arnold." Holly told her son. "You were shot, fair and square, but it doesn't have to be the end of the story. Now fall down, and maybe some fair maiden will heal you." She raised her hands in surrender to the wicked bandit, Oscar Hughes. "I am your prisoner, Mr. Bandit."
Arnold grumbled at first, but when his mother mentioned a fair maiden, he thought that could be fun. Maybe not as fun as taking his mom to jail, but he glanced into the dining room, where two, better than fair looking women were blushing. He sank to the carpet and sprawled wounded across it. "Aaarrrggghhh!"
Jean squeaked when she felt her son's hand reach between her thighs just above the knees. He was trying to spread her legs. A giggle squashed her concern. Silly boy. She patted his head.
Carol's attention had snapped to her youngest son when he declared, "…not fair!" She witnessed Holly defuse the situation and watched Arnold fall to the carpet. Whereupon, he glanced at herself and Jean. It seemed as if a fair maiden was needed. Carol winked at the prone Arnold. She stood from her chair to attend him.
"Damn." Jeffery regretted not playing with the younger boys. They sure were getting a lot of sexy attention from their mothers. He wondered what they had spiked their coffee with. He tried to get himself to join the fun but felt like an outsider wishing he hadn't thought he was above their silliness. One other thing compelled him to avoid his brother and the other boys, but he didn't have a name for it. Certainly, it wasn't cowardice. Jeffery was the oldest by well over a year, and he was strong and athletic, a far cry more manly than the other boys' and their slightly delayed puberty.
At Jeffery's right, around the table, Jean squeaked and squirmed in her chair. His mother, Carol, went to Arnold and leaned over the teen's sprawled form. "Oh my! The sheriff is wounded!" Arnold opened his eyes and smiled. He saw two big boobs dangling within Ms. Hughes' thin, yellow blouse. The attractive woman reached down and pulled his wrist. "Let's get you somewhere where you can heal." She indicated the living room's couch.
Oscar had tied yarn around Holly's wrists, adding to the lasso around her shoulders. Holly cried softly, "Where are you taking me, you villain?"
"To my secret cave." He led her into the hallway, to the closet, and abruptly, what was suppose to have been a jail became a cave.
"What are you going to do with me?"
"I'm gonna pillage you, Ms.Michaels."
"Oh dear, that sounds devastating!"
Oscar opened the door for her, and Holly put on a brave face before entering the dark recess.
"I have to rescue Mo- uh, my prisoner!" Arnold lurched up from the couch, but Carol pushed him down upon its cushions. "Sometimes, the sheriff doesn't get there in time. You're still wounded." She sat beside his head, raised him up and scooted her butt so he could lay his head in her lap. Her two boobs were suddenly a lot closer, and Arnold weighed rescuing his mom against possibly touching a woman's chest. "Uh, how will I get better?" He asked Jeffery and Oscar's mother.
"You need some nutrition, Sheriff. You ate a bunch of cookies earlier, but haven't washed them down with milk, yet." Carol grinned and gently shook her shoulders. Not constrained by a bra, her breasts wobbled enticingly. "Do you know where milk comes from?"
From cows? He almost asked, but then he remembered. A couple weeks ago Carol had said she was donating her milk to a charity. Race had asked where she bought the milk from, and Carol had briefly hefted one of her boobs. Arnold had been amazed to learn that women made milk in their chests! And Carol was special because she continued to pump milk from her boobs years after Oscar had stopped nursing. Suddenly Arnold's sheriff predicament made total sense! Nurses healed people, and milk was nutritious. "Can I nurse on your milk?" He looked up eagerly.
"Really?" Jeffery overheard Arnold asking his mother to nurse on her. He couldn't believe his ears, and almost got up to confront his mom in the living room, but he noticed Jean had closed her eyes, and her lips made a tight line as if she was in pain. She whined as if she was. Jeffery had to peek under the table to find out what Race was doing.
The hidden boy's elbows spread his mother's legs on her chair. He was reaching into her skirt with the glee of an Olympic winner. "I think I see you, wildcat." Jean's hands pressed on her son's head to keep him out of her loins. Race giggled. "Navajo hunter is gonna catch you and pet you."
From down the hall, Holly cried out, muffled through a closet door.
Jeffery ducked out from under the table and shot up to his feet, pushing his chair away with his thighs. "Mom? What's going on?" He strode into the living room.
There, his mother had pulled down the vee of her blouse to reveal her left breast. A white dot seeped out of its aureola before the two boys' gazes. Arnold puckered his lips, about to clamp them around the inviting, dark bud of her turgid nipple. Jeffery's unexpected question shook sense into Carol, and she covered up her breast and gulped. "Whoops."
Another cry from the hall closet sent Jeffery to investigate, having succeeded in preventing his mom from letting Arnold nurse on her. He jerked open the closet door and found Oscar madly kissing Ms. Michaels! His hands were gripping and groping her large bottom cheeks through her pale lavender slacks.
"Who are you?" Oscar pouted, breaking away from the fun he was enjoying.
Holly turned bright red, redder than she had been when the fourteen year old had grabbed butt and kissed her on the lips! Despite embarrassment, she found the right words. "Jeffery is the stage manager, Oscar. It's time to stop pretending and go home."
"No! I don-wanna!" The boy stamped his foot.
His exciting captive escaped his groping hands and his secret cave. "Sorry, Sweetheart, but that's show business." Holly felt terribly guilty. She avoided meeting Jeffery's stunned gaze.
Arnold jumped up from the couch, "Mommy!" He too blushed, out of guilt for not rescuing her. They embraced in the living room.
A minute later, Jean was still struggling to keep her persistent son from grabbing her pussy. He had managed to pull aside her plain cotton panties, shouting "Caught you!" Upon his first but dark glimpse of his mother's thick, brown pubic thatch.
"Ahem." Carol cleared her throat. She stood in the dining room entrance. Beside her, three blushing boys and a red faced Holly Michaels watched Jean resist her son's hidden actions.
"Oh, my!" Jean cried and jumped away from the probing fingers, nearly tipping over in her chair. She landed on her feet and Race's pout appeared from under the tablecloth. "Drat." He huffed.
Little was said between then and a half hour later, when the two visiting mothers thanked Carol for hosting and drove away in separate, crossover SUVs.
Texts flew between the parents that evening after dinner.
"What happened? What did you put in the coffee, Carol?" -Jean
"It's the same coffee we had three days ago." -Carol
"Did anyone else think it was strange that our boys would suddenly play a kid's game?" - Holly. Her son, Arnold was fifteen.
"I wouldn't be surprised by anything that teenagers did. When I was fourteen, I was playing a lot more seriously with boys." -Jean. Her son, Race, was also fifteen.
"They acted and even sounded like much younger kids." -Carol. Her Oscar was fourteen, and Jeffery was seventeen.
"I kinda liked that. It reminded me of when they were much younger, so animated and playful." -Holly
"Slut!" -Jean
"She meant that in a good way, Holly. And I know what you mean. I had fun too, pretending, but we got carried away." -Carol
"You started it, by telling Race he could find a cat between my legs." -Jean
"You could have jumped away at anytime, Jean. But you waited until you were caught." -Holly
"I still want to know … WHY? Could it have something to do with our sons' condition?" -Jean
"Jeffery was the only boy who didn't play. He doesn't have it, right?" -Holly.
"Only Oscar has the condition." -Carol
"I just feel like it affected us, somehow." -Jean
"We should mention this to the researchers." -Carol
"What are we going to tell them, that we got all flirty with our sons? Don't either of you DARE." -Holly
"We've been getting together for more than a month. Why now?" -Jean
"Good question, Jean. Maybe the effect takes time to build up. As far as I know, we're the only participants who are getting together physically." -Carol
"Three special boys in the same house for couple hours, two or three times a week, I doubt that's ever happened. The condition is so rare." -Holly
"It took a special research program to bring us together. You're probably right." -Jean
"Sooo, when are we getting together again?" -Holly.
"Are you kidding?" -Jean
"How about, tomorrow?" -Carol
"How do we know something worse won't happen?" -Jean
"Think of it as an experiment. It's not like we got all mind-controlled. We just got a little carried away. I'll tell Jeff to snap us out of it if he sees it happening again." -Carol
"I can host. Gavin will be inspecting a meat packing plant a hundred miles away, and he'll stay in a hotel overnight. I won't have a car. -Holly
"Good. I think he made a pass at me after you hosted last week." -Jean
"You think all men make a pass at you." -Carol
"Because I'm worth it. <winking emoji>" -Jean
"He probably did. Gavin and I are in a rut. I honestly wouldn't hate you if you hooked up with him. As long as I got equal opportunity with some hot guy." -Holly
"Eeew! Puleeze, Holly. Gavin? Gag me. He's nice and all, but I go for less nice when I can get it." -Jean
"Must be nice to be single." -Carol
"Oh no, Carol! Are you in a rut with Ricardo?" -Holly
"We sex-up just fine. I'm lucky to have that, but my libido is a lot stronger. I wear out dildos regularly." -Carol
"Maybe that's why you were the first to crack." -Jean
"Stop it, Jean. Pointing fingers isn't our style." -Holly
"Sorry, Carol. I didn't mean it like that. I'm single, lonely, occasionally sex starved, but I'm glad horniness doesn't haunt me. Friends?"
"Kiss my wedding ring, and I'll forgive you. <smug emoji>" -Carol
"Kiss my <butt emoji>!" -Jean
"It's settled. Drive over to my place, after you pick up your kids from school tomorrow." -Holly
It would be only the second time that the three moms had gathered two days in a row. None of them suspected it as a sign of things to come.
...to be continued...