Best Laid Plans: A Summer Camp Swingers Novel

Chapter 10

I woke up later than usual the next morning. Pale light streamed through the blinds and across the bed. I frowned at the leaden clouds and seriously thought about skipping my run. Then I had to laugh at myself as I started to get dressed and realized I was putting on my running clothes out of habit.

My skin immediately turned to gooseflesh when I stepped out the back door. The air was heavy with moisture, and fat raindrops began to splat into the patio roof as I stretched and tried to warm up. I wondered again whether or not I wanted to venture out, but I needed the time to myself, time to think.

After a few minutes I set out at an unhurried pace. A half-mile later the sporadic raindrops became a steady, cold rain. I zipped up my windbreaker to my chin and kept running, even as water seeped under the collar and soaked into my shirt. I ignored it and thought about Christy instead.

She’d sounded like she was having fun with Brooke, which was exactly what they’d both needed. And I had to admit that I was getting exactly what I needed as well. Part of me wished it had been with Christy instead of someone else, even someone I’d fantasized about for years. I understood the taboo better than anyone, though, and that was the real thrill. The sex was good, but sex was sex, Slot A and Tab B.

Still, I wondered if I wanted to tell Christy. She knew how I felt about Erin, but she didn’t have a clue about Mom. How would I have felt if she’d had sex with an old boyfriend instead of Brooke? Would I have been upset?

That depends, I admitted as I turned onto the main road.

It depended on whether or not she still loved this hypothetical other guy. “Cheating” had always been emotional for me. But was it the same for Christy? Yes and no, probably. She didn’t see Brooke as a threat to our relationship, just like she didn’t see Leah as a threat. She’d even said I could fool around with “a certain family member,” although she’d meant Erin. Extending it to Mom was a stretch at best.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wouldn’t have been so tempted if Christy and I were having sex. I didn’t resent her for waiting, but my patience had started to wear thin over the past few weeks, especially since she’d told me she was ready to go all the way but wanted to wait till her ridiculous Catholic “birth control” said the timing was right.

And if I were being honest, that irked me more than anything. The rhythm method wasn’t the worst form of birth control in the world, but it ignored human nature and relied on more self-control than most people had in the first place, much less in the heat of the moment.

I also had to admit that I probably would’ve been tempted by Mom even if Christy and I were having sex. So I would’ve been in the same situation no matter what, which didn’t make it any easier to decide whether or not to come clean. I reminded myself that confession was good for the soul but bad for a relationship.

I was still trying to decide what I wanted to do when reality hit me in the face. Literally. An oncoming car plowed through a huge puddle and drenched me from head to toe. I wiped gritty water from my eyes and shook it out of my hair. I was already soaked to the skin, but the road dirt added another level of annoyance.

I was warm enough as long as I kept running, but the air temperature had actually dropped a few degrees since I’d left the house, so I turned and headed back. I couldn’t do anything about my Christy dilemma, especially from two thousand miles away, so I focused on the road and the occasional passing car.

I eventually made it to the shelter of the patio. I hadn’t thought to set out a towel, so I kicked off my wet shoes and quickly peeled off my soaked outfit. My skin steamed in the cold air. I gathered the sodden pile of clothes and headed inside. The house was warm and mercifully dry, but then I remembered that my bathroom shower was still full of houseplants. I plopped my clothes on top of the washing machine and headed toward the master bedroom.

Mom was still asleep, so I crept past her to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and gave it a moment to heat up. My toiletry kit was still on the counter from the day before, so I grabbed my razor and shaving cream. Needles of hot water stung my skin as I stepped into the shower and luxuriated in the warmth. After a while I lathered my hair and body and then rinsed off. Finally, I shaved my pubic area and soaked up the last of the hot water.

Steam billowed out of the shower stall when I slid the door open. I dried off and used my towel to clear a section of the fogged mirror so I could shave my face. Then I quietly brushed my teeth and went about the rest of my morning routine.

The bed was empty when I cautiously opened the bathroom door and peered out. I found Mom in the kitchen, making coffee in her pink robe.

“Morning,” I said.

She took one look at me and raised an eyebrow. “Au naturel, huh?”

“Fresh from the shower.” In reality I was showing off, but I didn’t want to admit it. “Besides, we’re nudists, remember?”

“It’s also winter, even though it feels like spring.” She nodded through the blinds. “April showers, come early.”

I shook my head. “Not today. It’s a cold rain. Like, fifty degrees.”

“Then why’d you go out?”

I shrugged. “Needed the time to think.”

“About yesterday?”

“Yeah. And Christy.”

“Mmm.”

“My life’s complicated.”

“Whose isn’t?”

“True.” I walked around the peninsula and leaned against the counter.

Mom gave me an appraising look and then nodded at my freshly shaved pubic area. “You should go to camp like that.”

“Seriously? You remember the uproar when the antediluvian types saw Leah and Susan for the first time.”

“Antediluvian,” Mom chuckled. “Nice word.”

“It fits. Some of those people don’t realize it’s the Twentieth Century. Do you really think they’re ready for shaved men too?”

“You never know. Susan has zero tolerance for anyone telling her how to run her own camp. Besides, I think she’d like it.” Mom shrugged and leaned against the counter to study me. “You’d certainly get more attention from the women.”

“Hold on, are you talking about the kind of attention I think you are?”

“Absolutely. Your dad gets it all the time.”

“What? Like, from regular women? Not swingers?”

“Mmm hmm. A few every year.”

“Regular women,” I repeated incredulously. “The kind with husbands and kids and normal sex lives?”

“Yes, that kind. They’re curious. Your dad’s almost six inches soft. You wouldn’t believe how many women ask if he’s a grower or a shower. And not just me; they ask him about half the time. Some do more than ask,” she added slyly.

I had to peel my eyebrows off the ceiling.

“Mmm hmm,” she assured me.

“Hold on, that’s a giant leap, from asking to… um…”

“To a blowjob, yes. But he’s surprisingly good at talking them into it.”

My jaw dropped.

“Most women don’t mind an erection. They’re married; they’ve seen them before. He shows them in private, of course, and he usually offers them the chance to do more than look.”

I closed my mouth but still couldn’t find any words for my astonishment.

“He never pushes it, but he’s willing to go as far as the woman wants, which is surprisingly far sometimes.”

“Who are these women?” I finally asked. “I mean, name names.”

“That’s the thing—I don’t know. He won’t tell me. It’s our little game. Sometimes I figure it out, based on body language, especially if the woman feels guilty afterward. Or if she enjoyed it and can’t keep her eyes off him. But most of the time they act like nothing happened, so I don’t have a clue.”

“And this happens on a regular basis?”

“Mmm hmm, every summer.”

“Two or three different women?”

“Yes, although it depends on how often he has to leave for work. Oh, and that doesn’t include his regular blowjob friend.”

My eyebrows rose. Again. I thought I’d known most of what went on behind the scenes at camp, but I was coming to realize that I didn’t have a clue.

“Mmm hmm. She’s been doing it for six or seven years,” Mom said. “He won’t tell me who it is, but he’s given me a couple of clues. She’s older than us, married, with grown kids. They’re not permanent residents, so she can’t be too much older. Her husband is average, a little on the small side. She likes something to ‘tickle her tonsils’ on occasion. That’s all I know for sure. I think I know who it is, but I won’t say since I don’t have proof.”

“What’ll you do if you get it?”

“Why would I do anything?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. “I don’t care if this woman wants a little fun on the side. It’s just a blowjob. Besides, he tells me about it. All the others too. Like I said, it’s sort of a game between us. And he’s very discreet. You’re the only one who knows besides me. And Susan, of course.”

“Of course,” I echoed.

“The women won’t say anything. Why would they? None of them are swingers. They don’t want to ruin their marriages, either. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have the same urges men do, for an occasional bit of strange.”

I blinked in disbelief.

“Mmm hmm. That’s why I said you should go to camp like that. You’ll get a lot of attention, probably from some of the same women. If you’re half as smooth as your dad, you’re practically guaranteed a blowjob or two. Probably more, since you’re younger and would seem like a conquest.”

“I had no idea.”

“Women like to fool around too. You know that. Besides, we don’t fit into neat little categories—normal, prude, swinger, slut—especially when it comes to sex. The same as men.”

“No kidding,” I said.

“You and me, for example.”

“How so?”

“Our… relationship.”

“Ah, right. I have sex with my mom, but I’m a pretty normal guy otherwise.”

“I used to think I was different, that something was wrong with me. But most people have ‘dark secrets.’ They’re not so dark or unusual once they see the light of day. And speaking of the light of day…” She gestured at my nudity. “Is there a reason you came out here like that?”

I grinned sheepishly. “What do you think?”

“My son, the exhibitionist.”

“The horny exhibitionist. I could say the same about you. I mean, why are you wearing that robe?”

“This old thing? Because it’s comfortable.”

“Not because it shows off your body?”

“Okay, you caught me. Sometimes showing a little is sexier than going nude.”

“Oh, I agree.” Christy had a whole drawer and an entire suitcase full of lingerie that did just that.

“Why?” Mom ventured. “See anything you like?”

“All of it.”

“What’re you going to do about it?”

“Tell you to get on your knees and blow me.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “And what if I’m not in the mood?”

“Then I’ll go jerk off a couple of times.” I nodded toward the guest bedroom and then glanced at my watch. “See you in half an hour.”

“Whoa, not so fast! Half an hour? I thought you said ‘a couple of times.’”

I smirked. “I’m quick when I wanna be.”

“Well, it’d be a shame to waste all that… energy.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Mr. Coffee gurgled behind her and we shared a grin.

“Cream for your coffee?” I offered.

She pulled out the carafe and filled a mug, which she set on the counter to cool. Then she sank to her knees. I stepped forward and offered my nascent erection. She ran her hands along my thighs and continued up my torso before she leaned forward to kiss my semi-hard shaft.

After a moment she tilted her head and nuzzled my scrotum. She stroked my growing erection and held it out of the way as she concentrated on my balls. I closed my eyes to savor the feeling of her lips and tongue on the family jewels.

The phone rang.

She looked up at me and her eyes flashed with mischief. “Don’t go anywhere.”

I groaned as she stood and rushed to answer the phone.

“Hello? Hi! Good morning to you too.” She listened and then glanced at me. “Oh, nothing much. Just getting cream for my coffee.” She walked toward me, and the long, curly phone cord stretched behind her. “Mmm hmm, how’d you guess? Yes, a very special cream. Paul’s.”

Dad said something.

“Of course I went through with it. Did you really doubt? But he figured it out in about two seconds. I told you he would.”

He said something else.

She made a show of pouting. “Oh, your poor thing,” she teased. “An early show time and you had to take care of yourself?” She covered the handset and said to me, “He doesn’t know any of the flight attendants on his crew, so he’s been alone for two nights.”

I chuckled but then decided to get some revenge on Dad’s part. I tugged the belt of Mom’s robe, and the knot came loose. I opened it to reveal her body. She rolled her eyes as I fondled her breast, although she one-upped me by wrapping her fingers around my erection.

“So you had to jerk off?” she said to Dad while she did the same to me. “What a coincidence!” Her expression changed when he said something else. “Now? Okay. I’ll hold on.” The seconds stretched into a minute.

He returned and said something.

“Okay, I understand.” She released my semi-hard manhood and covered the mouthpiece. “His first officer just came to the door. Weather problems. He has to go.”

I nodded.

“Have a safe flight,” she said into the phone. Then she arched an eyebrow. “Sure, I can do that. Okay, love you too. See you this afternoon.” She pressed the button to hang up and then looked at me. “Give me a sec to get back in the mood and I’ll pick up where we left off.”

“No problem.”

She rounded the peninsula to hang up the phone. Then she removed her robe and tossed it on a kitchen chair. After a moment she returned and sank to her knees in front of me. She started sucking before she was really ready, but “fake it till you make it” was good enough for the little head. His enthusiasm eventually spread to the rest of us, and we began to enjoy it for real.

I thought I’d last longer, but Mom was really good at giving head, especially once she got into it. She sensed my impending orgasm and searched the counter for her coffee mug. I helpfully slid it toward her. She held it under my cock and began stroking.

A minute later I groaned and emptied my balls into it. She milked my shaft until the final drops disappeared into the black liquid. Then she cleaned me off and stood. She added sugar and regular cream and then tasted it.

“Mmm, the best part of waking up—”

“Is semen in your cup.”