Fuck Town

Note:Edited October 2025 for readability with minor narrative changes.

Once A Slut...

I: A woman's need.

"Oh Pam, it's just hormones, boys being boys."

I tried to hide my grin. I'd thought Karen might pretend to be shocked, or at least feign concern, but I wasn't actually surprised she was dismissive of my confession, a confession that would likely up-end the lives of most people and families. "Pete is 19, not... 14," I offered, defensively.

I watched my best friend of 34 years closely; I knew all her tells. I watched as she tilted her head to the right as if uncertain, lowered her jaw to hide her grin, and scrunched her eyes to feign consideration.

Since 2nd grade we had shared absolutely everything, our lives joined in every way. "I'm just saying, you remember what it was like," Karen smiled, that smile that could disarm a nuclear bomb. "We'd fucked what, at least a hundred guys each by the time we were their age," she continued.

God, at least, I thought to myself, forcing myself not to smile at the thought.

Both of us now 41, in most ways our teenage years seemed like a lifetime ago, but being parents to teenage children, our 19-year-old sons, Pete and Kyle, were constant reminders to us of our own youthful indiscretions.

The lives Karen and I had built together, married to twin brothers Rob and Rod in a single ceremony, houses built next door to each other in Northern California, our children born only hours apart, our lives always and forever intertwined, two households, but one family. It all seemed a lifetime removed from our childhood and early adult exploits in Southern California.

Yet the reminders were never far away. The internet is forever and Karen and I had managed to make a name for ourselves as porn stars once we were barely 18. Notorious might be the best description. Three years in 'the business' and we'd done everything, enthusiastically offering our bodies to the gods of pleasure and the purveyors of perversion. We did it all. 'Nasty,' was the most common adjective used to describe us. We worked during the height of the gonzo era, digital cameras allowing every perverted fantasy to be realized and recorded like never before, and no act, no scenario, no body part or fluid, had been out of bounds for us.

When we went to the frat house to film scenes amongst a campus party, we had no idea we'd meet our husbands. When the handsome twin boys approached us as we were wiping our selves clean, we had no way of knowing we'd be spending the rest of our lives with them, raising their equally handsome sons.

And yet that's where we find ourselves, happily married for two committed, but certainly not monogamous decades.

There have been ample opportunities for extramarital fun for all of us. Especially for Karen and I as our husband's construction company has afforded its fair share of strapping young men for us to indulge our need for new dick. And being ex-porn stars, and still sexy women, and our husbands being fit and handsome, we tend to attract attention, and that has provided Ron and Rod with plenty of opportunities to indulge in strange pussy as well.

All that is an attempt to qualify that our sex lives have never been lacking since leaving our former profession, but neither have they ever approached the libidinous excesses of that brief time.

Of course that was a blessing for many years as the work of building a life and a family became a priority, and the carefree, hell bent for a good time mindset of our youth was replaced by the duty and obligations of adulthood, marriage, and parenting.

However, Karen and I have found ourselves indulging in trips down memory lane more and more often the past couple of years.

Perhaps it's simply a byproduct of suddenly having spare time, with the boys grown and needing less attention combining with the relative comfort of hard won financial security.

Or perhaps it's a function of age, Karen and I can attest to the accuracy of the old adage that women reach their sexual prime around our age, as we've found our bodies and sex drives becoming more demanding and more needy with each passing year.

Whatever the cause, Karen and I haven't been able to resist bringing up our naughty past more and more frequently of late.

And that's not to say our husbands aren't up to the task of satisfying us, they're both very healthy and adventurous in all regards and none of us ever denies another help in getting off. It's just difficult to ignore the memories of such extreme experiences. Particularly the enthusiasms of young men: always hard, always ready, so perfect, so shiny and tightly muscled, and with seemingly endless amounts of thick, hot, creamy jizzum.

Karen and I have never avoided acknowledging our sons have grown into such desirable young men, and though we've discussed and commiserated over their growing pains and blossoming masculinity endlessly over the years, we've never directly addressed any possible dalliances between us; either of us, or either of them, in any combination. I suppose it's always been in the back of my mind, does Pete have any carnal desire for his Aunt Karen? And likewise, does Kyle have any desire for me?

I realized I had drifted when Karen cleared her throat with a knowing grin. Snapping out of it, "Your point," I questioned defensively.

"Would you rather the boys were banging every girl in town? Or even doing porn," Karen asked seriously.

"We agreed not to be hypocrites, but it's not the same. We have all this." I said holding my arms out, motioning to our houses, our lives, before continuing, "They're in college, they'll have degrees and a head start we didn't get."

Karen gave me that look, the one that said she knew I was making excuses, "We were poor, but we didn't 'have' to do porn. We did porn because we were horny sluts," she giggled.

I couldn't help but giggle along with my bestie. "God, we were shameless, weren't we? But..."

Karen held my gaze for a moment before responding, "Incest?" She let the word, the question, hang in the air for several seconds before continuing, "I mean it's been popular for a long time now. Hell, we only missed it by a couple of years. You know we would have been fucking our 'dads' if we'd started a few years later," she offered making air quotes and bringing to mind all the hot older men who'd made such good use of our teenage bodies and Karen smiled that huge smile, obviously sharing in the memory.

Of course, she was right, neither of us had ever had any moral objections to anything we ever did. Not that it was all good or enjoyable. It was work after all; show up on time, ready to perform regardless of what else was going on in your life, no different than any job in that regards. Except the work was getting fucked!

However, there were some directors and actors who clearly didn't like women and used porn as an opportunity to take their frustrations out on us because we were being paid to endure their abuse. But truth be told, Karen and I were horny submissive whores and being used and treated roughly was part of the fun, and overall those years were so much fun.

So Karen was likely right that had incest become popular while we were working, we surely would have added daughter and sister to our oeuvre somewhere between cheerleader and stripper.

"Yeah, no doubt," I smiled, imagining the naughty fun we missed out on. "But real incest... I guess I figured it would be..." I crossed my hands, pointing fingers in opposite directions, signifying I assumed if our sons ever showed interest it would be in each other's mother.

Karen grinned, "I mean, I would, you know," she said simply, clearly meaning she would fuck my son, her de-facto nephew, Pete, given the opportunity.

I could only meet her grin and nod, clearly admitting my agreement, her son Kyle certainly hadn't escaped my notice, nephew or not, and my pussy tingled at the confession. "But you're not surprised... it's me?" Has Kyle done anything with you," I asked.

"The same as Pete," Karen admitted. "I caught his reflection in bathroom mirror a few times. And my panties have gone missing enough to notice."

"You bitch, why didn't you tell me," I asked genuinely mad.

Karen raised her hands defensively, "I assumed Pete was probably doing the same. I just figured it was better if you figured it out yourself."

"Better," I questioned.

"Because... it's so fucking hot. I didn't want to spoil the surprise," Karen laughed. "Pam, you can't tell me it doesn't make your fucking pussy wet, your son peeping on you," she said bluntly.

My fucking pussy gushed into my already damp panties and I bit my lip, watching Karen smile naughtily witnessing my tell.

"But you haven't done anything... yet," I questioned.

"No, not really. I was waiting for you," my bff said.

"Not really..." I inquired, eyebrows arched.

I watched my friend shrug her shoulders and I stifled a moan as she confessed to leaving her door open while she dressed and showered and had been finding opportunities to do both when only she and Kyle were home for the past several days already.

I wondered if I even needed to confess I had contemplated doing the same, settling on, "I told Rob."

"Rod knows, he thinks it's hot. He's been fucking the shit out of me every night when I tell him about Kyle peeping," Karen informed me with a big smile. "So, what did Rob say?"

"He said our son deserves a show," I giggled.

"You have some catching up to do, as usual," Karen said, sticking her tongue out, making fun of me for usually following her lead all these years.

It was certainly true; Karen typically had been the one to come up with ideas over the years. She'd always sought my opinion before doing anything, but I was always game, so naturally in sync we've always been, there has seldom been a disagreement between us. I couldn't help but laugh that she'd already been showing off for her son and had apparently made her decision for what the future would hold.

"Do you think they want to fuck us, or Christie and Gia," I questioned, invoking our stage names. We had long ago accepted that our sons would certainly find out about our former selves. To our continued surprise, it's never become an issue, and neither has ever approached us about it.

Karen smiled, "Are you worried about becoming Christie again. Or are you worried Pete can't handle Christie?"

"I guess I'm worried he only wants to fuck Christie, you know? How do you know if Kyle wants to fuck Karen or Gia," I asked.

"I hope he wants to fuck both," Karen laughed. "I hope he wants to fuck his mother, but I wouldn't mind letting Gia out for a spin. She was a lot of fun. Plus, she's a MILF now," she winked, before adding, "Don't tell me Christie isn't dying to come out to play?"

I gave my best friend a devilish grin. "So, we're really going to fuck our sons," I asked for the sake of asking, the answer was already there between us.

"Waiting on you, slut," Karen answered, sticking her tongue out again.

— —

That night, after Rob had battered my pussy with my favorite vibrator until I was a gasping, heaving, squirting mess, he shoved it deep in me and turned it to high before pushing me onto my stomach and straddling my hips. He hissed in my ear to 'let it out' as I fought moaning as loudly as I needed to. 'Let your son hear what a slut his mother is,' my husband snickered as he held me down and pushed his cock roughly through my tight asshole.

I couldn't help giving up on propriety and crying out loudly feeling his large cock ram into my bowels, knowing I was in for an intense pounding.

Later, collapsing breathless and sore, and with little doubt that our son had heard me moaning like a whore, I groaned feeling semen slowly leak from my sore rectum. Rob lay sweaty and satisfied next to me and I told him about my conversation with Karen, "I assume you and Rod already talked about it? So, I'm the last to know, as usual?"

I couldn't pretend to be mad as he simply grinned, and pushing his mouth against my ear, assured me, "It won't take much to get Pete back inside you."

My husband's big smile and the waves of naughty pleasure that washed through me were all the confirmation I needed to know I was about to seduce my own son.

II: A mother's love.

I've spent the past week putting on the shows my husband encouraged and my son obviously wanted. A small part of me worried that once I started playing along, my son might lose interest. But my concern was unwarranted; Pete's attention has become more focused, and more aggressive, with each passing day.

I've done a lot of naughty... hell, down right filthy shit over the years, but allowing my son to peep on me may possibly be the naughtiest thing ever, and it's driven my libido to new heights.

Even with multiple masturbation sessions each day, Karen and I making time to help each other out, and my husband railing me every night, encouraging me to be loud so Pete can hear, I am a horny fucking mess 24/7.

Like Karen, I've found reasons to change and shower when only Pete was home, leaving my door open, first a crack, then fully. Seeing my son's reflection in my mirrors, peeking around the doorframe, eyes wide, wolfish, makes my pussy gush as much as anything ever has.

It had been so long since I'd done anything 'new,' and allowing my own son to see me naked was new, and incredibly naughty, thrilling, nasty... taboo, pick your adjective, they're all true. I knew it would be thrilling, letting my adult son see me nude, but there's something incredibly primal about it, about exposing myself to my own child that's more arousing than I'd possibly imagined.

There's also an emotional element I hadn't expected, my heart bleeds for my little boy when I see the need behind the wolfish hunger in his big brown eyes, and every part of me wants to comfort him by giving myself to him physically, allowing him to satisfy that lustful desire by welcoming him back inside my body.

This past week I've upped the ante everyday and Pete has taken the bait everyday. I admit I've come to wonder exactly who is seducing whom. The thing about being a slut is it only takes basic dominance to control us, and I couldn't help the growing suspicion that my son was exerting his dominance. Maybe I wasn't allowing him to peek; maybe he was allowing me to perform, to pretend to be oblivious to his attention. God, that thought makes me so wet.

There were so many times this past week I almost dropped the pretense of the seduction, almost gave into my own taboo craving, almost dropped to my knees and stuffed my son's cock down my throat, but one thing age has taught me is to enjoy the thrill of the hunt; it makes the kill so much more rewarding.

So I forced myself to wait until our husband's weekly bowling night, Thursday, as Karen and I agreed, knowing we'd have the houses, and our sons, to ourselves for a few hours.

As late Thursday afternoon arrived, I welcomed Pete home with a hug and kiss on the cheek, pressing my barely contained breasts into his muscular chest. It wasn't unusual for Pete to see me in shorts and a bikini top, but I'd been saving this particular outfit for our special day.

Karen and I had spent the previous day in a horny fog, trying our matching outfits on, encouraging each other to cut off a little more, push them down on our hips a little lower, tie the tops a little tighter until they were just right. And by just right, of course I mean outrageously, unmistakably slutty. Maybe Christie and Gia weren't being unleashed, but least their spirits were well represented.

The shorts had been a pair of skinny jeans Karen and I had bought a few days earlier. Two sizes too small, they hung low, stretched tight across my hips. So tight the waist hung wide open, the zipper split wide, my bare pubis exposed, the beginning of my slit barely concealed.

The back was nearly as indecent, the denim cut in arching half moons exposing the bottom half of my plump cheeks, which bounced and jiggled as I walked.

Overall the 'shorts' amounted to little more than a few inches of stretchy fabric barely covering my sex and my pussy dripped as I watched my son look me over with ravenous hunger.

The top was a sheer micro bikini top, two tiny barely opaque white triangles trimmed by bright colored string; green for me to match my eyes, blue for Karen to match hers. My tits stuck out in all directions and my nipples were clearly visible through the fabric.

There was no practical reason for the outfits; Karen and I would never be able to wear them anywhere. But of course that was the point, they were just to be titillating, enticing, appreciated... they were just for our sons.

God, my son definitely knows his mother is a slut, I'd realized, a tremor rumbling through my excited, needy flesh.

Pete stood and watched as I pretended to tidy up the kitchen, before I announced I was going to take a shower with an inviting smile.

In my bedroom, the door wide open, I took my time undressing, carefully pushing and pulling the beyond tight shorts down my legs, before untying my miniscule top, letting my tits fall free. I could hear Pete's heavy breathing at the doorway. I never once looked back, not even looking in the mirror over my make up table.

Once nude, I made excuses to appear to search in my dresser and closet: bending, stretching, reaching, before finally entering my ensuite and starting my shower.

I kept the water temp low enough not to steam the glass. I made sure Pete had a full view as I soaped myself, sliding my hands all over my body before picking up my razor and slowly and methodically shaving every inch of myself below the waist. Sitting on the shower bench I raised one leg high, bracing it against the glass as I leaned back and began to rub my pussy.

Through heavy lidded eyes I looked into the mirrors and saw my son staring back. I smiled and rubbed myself harder. I saw Pete's arm moving, but couldn't see low enough to see his hand sliding along his cock. I gasped out my orgasm, slumped and panted as the cold water cascaded over me. Pete disappeared from view and I eventually gathered myself, feeling very self-satisfied that my naughty display had enticed my son into masturbating in the open, only feet away.

I quickly dried, lotioned, and dressed in a peach colored baby doll and found Pete waiting in the kitchen, perched on one of the counter barstools.

This was a newly established routine, my son watching me make dinner. Normally he'd be in his room until I announced dinner was ready. 'Something' this past week had enticed his supervision as I prepared dinner.

I couldn't help snicker, thinking I should have thought of dressing sexy to cook long ago, as we chatted about our day and I labored under my son's hungry stare.

A shiver ran through me realizing our relationship had indeed turned a page. We were no longer just mother and son. He was seeing me as a woman and I was reacting to him as a woman reacts to a man. My son made me horny... so fucking horny.

When Rob got home from work he whistled and seeing Pete sitting at the counter watching me cook, winked at me before telling our son, "I told your mom she needed wear lingerie more, she still has an amazing body doesn't she son?"

Pete did not hesitate to agree as I smiled and did a slow twirl for my husband and son with a giggle and a jiggle. My son confidently stared at me, only breaking eye contact to glance at his father and offer, "Mom and aunt Karen are the hottest women in town, aren't they, Dad?"

"You got that right," my husband agreed, then added with a devilish smile, "She just wears too many clothes around the house," and smacked my ass playfully. "I don't know why you bother with panties, baby, it's just Pete and me," Rob stated matter-of-factly before announcing he was going to change.