Chuck Selwyn

Sleep-In For Daddy

Chapter 1

Jerry trembled in the closet, quivering with anticipation, because he had been waiting for this moment ever since his father announced he had to catch a plane this evening. His old man always came into the bedroom with his mother, for a goodbye piece of ass before going off on another one of his long road trips, and this time, Jerry was ahead of them, determined to actually see what the fucking was all about, instead of just pressing his ear to the wall and only listening to them screw.

As he crouched in the darkness, wearing only his old bathrobe, he was glad his mother's clothes hung here, where he could get an open view of the bed. His dad's closet was across the room, and the old man would be digging stuff out of it, anyway, soon as he finished taking a quick shower. The pair of suitcases were already packed for the old man's trip, but Mack Winston always pawed around in the closet to see if he'd forgotten anything.

So that made Jerry safe here, among his mother's things, smelling the musky perfume that clung to dresses and slacks, and pressing his cheek against one of her slick-feeling dressing gowns. That was almost like touching her skin, almost like touching her nude body, and his prick throbbed in his hand as he squeezed down on it. His crotch ached; his belly was drawn tight and his balls felt swollen to twice their normal size. The cockhead pulsed in his fingers, but he held off from massaging it. Plenty of times, he had jacked off while hearing the sexy noises of his mom and dad making it, but now he was going to wait awhile.

Sure, he was scared. Jerry had no clear idea of what would happen to him if he got caught hiding in their room while they screwed, but he suspected that he would get his ass blistered. But that wouldn't be as bad as the embarrassment of both of them just knowing he was there, sneaking around to get a peep at what really happened when a man put his meat to a woman's pussy. And it wasn't as if he was just a little kid, getting too curious; he was fifteen years old, and damned near grown up. They'd never forgive him for being so dirty, and he might even have to split, leave home and take to thumb-tripping and never come back.

But he had to see it. Damn it, he just had to. If his mom was one of those fat and dumpy mothers, or all grey and wrinkled, the strain on him wouldn't have been so strong. As it was, he couldn't sleep, for thinking about what was hidden beneath her skirt, and the shape of her sleek ass in tight pants drove him right out of his head. Her tits — ah, her tits; Jerry stroked his aching prick and smiled at the vivid imagery of his mothers fine, full breasts bouncing when she walked, at the golden globes that pushed so excitingly against a thin gown. Angela Winston never wore a bra; he had often noticed the outline of her nipples, and once in awhile, gotten a peek down her dress to where the dusky golden valley separated the luscious mounds.

Jerry went taut when he heard the click of the bedroom door, and hoped neither of them would notice the closet door standing open just the slightest crack. Then his mother walked into the room, moving with that particular swaying of the hips that made all men look at her when she walked.