Determine the truth, welcome or not

Adam stared at his mother in shock, watching the curvy brunette hopping in place on one foot; his mind stunned by her abnormal reaction. He tried to concentrate on why, but – his brown eyes glued to her bouncing bosom contained beneath a simple tight, white t-shirt – the hormones surging through his system didn’t care, not even that it was his mother – still a hot number at forty-four and giving birth to two children. The voices screaming in the back of his mind – one over the illicit thoughts, the other reminding him he was late for school – were easily tamped down as an incredulous, highly improbable idea grew. But – was it true? Was this all – coincidence?

“Mom,” he began in a quavering voice, “Stop and – and sit down.”

The young man took a shaky breath, watching his mother comply and settle down on his father’s dark brown recliner.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, her green eyes filling with worry.

“I – I don’t know,” Adam stammered, his gaze still caught on her rising chest, the white cloth stretched further by her thick, engorged nipples pushing against the containing garment. He still wasn’t sure, his mind awhirl at the hormones running rampant through his body and the possibilities before him, his dick straining against his boxer-briefs.

“Maybe you caught something,” his mother frowned in concerned. “There might have been something in that muck you were covered in. I should take your temperature.”

“No,” the young man blinked, frowning slightly. Where’s her bra? “I’m – fine. I think.” As tight as her shirt is, I should see the outline of her underwear. Why would Mom not be wearing a bra?

“Mom,” the high school student began tentatively, licking his lips slightly nervous with how she would react, “Answer a question for me.”

“Of course, son,” the brunette smiled, a pleased twinkle rising in her green eyes.

“Why aren’t you wearing a bra?”

His mother’s eyes blinked, the older woman slightly taken aback. She swallowed, thinking as he waited.

“Well?” he arched an eyebrow. “Don’t even think of lying to me. I want the truth.”

“Adam,” she began slowly, her mouth dry, lowering her gaze to the carpeted floor, “I – I’m having a – friend – over and we – we’ll…” The brunette licked her lips, swallowing in shame at admitting the truth to her son, her voice growing small. “We’ll have sex.”

“You’re – cheating on Dad?” the young man gaped at her.

“Not – exactly,” his mother shrugged, giving her bosom a small bounce beneath the white T-shirt.

“How can that be?” Adam frowned, cross with the older woman, upset that his world was tumbling about more than he thought was possible. Other women fucked around on their husbands. Not his mother, his mind ignoring his own current lust for the brunette.

“Your father – he’s –” she sighed, shaking her head. “He’s gay. He hasn’t told anyone other than me. He can’t – he says he can’t come out of the closet, not even with you and Sarah being old enough for him to divorce me. Your father – won’t do that. His image – Steve won’t let anyone see him as anything less than he is and has.”

“Fuck,” the young man cursed under his breath.

“Don’t curse,” her green eyes flashed up at him.

“I’ll curse as much as I want,” Adam retorted. “Accept it.”

“I – okay, son,” the brunette nodded slightly, her lips twisting.

“So,” he took a shaky breath, beginning to wrap his mind around the situation, “How can you get away with sleeping around? Everyone we know thinks you’re an almost perfect wife.”

“I can’t get pregnant, that’s – obvious,” the forty-four year old blushed. “And I have to keep it quiet, keep anyone from finding out. So – I have to trust my – my special friends. Especially after we – er – break up. So – I choose ‘friends’ who also can’t afford to let anyone find out what they’re doing with – with me.”

“So – you’re sleeping with other adulterers,” the young man said, eyeing his mother coldly, thinking. Dad’s gay. Deep enough in the closet he has to hide it no more what, enough that she’s catting around to meet her – physical – needs. She’s admitted it. At my prompting – I think. I’m not totally convinced. If this is real – honest to God real – Jennifer’s – his mind no longer considering her ‘Mom’ – mine.

“That’s – one way to put it,” the brunette said, her eyes flickering to the clock.

“Oh?” he arched an eyebrow. “There are other ways?”

“Yesss,” she admitted, drawing out the word, beginning to grow anxious.

“And what ways are those?” Adam asked. Behind him, the door began to creak open.

“Jenny, darling,” he heard, his eyes widening in recognition at the voice, “I finally – oh. Shit.”

The teenager turned around slowly, facing away from his flinching mother, her face burning red, and saw…