The Watsons of Newport

"Yes, yes David," my mother complained, "aren't you listening to me?"

"He doesn't deserve you. Nobody is worthy of you."

I crossed the lounge room and lay back on my lounge, naked. My mother was describing in excruciating minute detail how she had uncovered his infidelity. Her whining irritable tone invaded my ears. I sighed with pleasure and my cock grew hard.

"I had him followed, David," Miranda said. "I just knew he wasn't being true to me. He actually had the gall to grow indignant when I told I had him followed. I can't believe it."

"How self-centered of him, mommy," I stated. "I never liked the Newport Coles. You had every right to have him followed."

"And he told me I was too intrusive. He told me I was constantly meddling in his life. He said I was manipulating him and micro managing him. He said I was smothering him. Imagine that David. He told me he didn't need a second mother because he already had a first. Imagine that David!"

I was silent for a moment. My eyes were closed. My mother was turning me on so much.

"David? David?"

"Yes, mother," I said recovering my ability to speak at last. "He is a very unworthy young man. You are the most beautiful, intelligent and caring women in Newport. You deserve someone who adores and treasures you."

My mother whined. My mother was silent. I wasn't going to blow my chance this time. I wasn't going to let her off the hook either. I stood up. I began to pace back and forth across the lounge room.

"There's only one man for you, Miranda," I continued, softly. "He isn't some worthless Cole of Newport or a man like Father. He adores you. He is an artiste. He will love you for who you are."

"Oh yes, he is my one and only," my mother whined softly. "He is the man for me. He will never let me down."

"No, he will never let you down, mother. Now I want to have dinner with you, darling. I want you to understand that I'm asking you out on a date, Miranda. I want you to say yes."

I stopped talking. I stood in the middle of the lounge room. My heart was thumping. There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Then:

"Yes darling. I will go out to dinner with you. It will be our first date together, David."

I breathed a sigh of relief. My head felt light. She laughed softly.

"That's wonderful, mother," I said softly, with a broad smile.

My mother laughed again.

"It will be David, I promise."

The arrangement was made. I was going to pick my mother up from her home at 7pm, this Friday, in just three days time. I was going to take her to a beautiful restaurant, well away from prying eyes. And if I could, I was going to bring my mother back here, to my apartment and finally make love to her, after years and years of waiting, hoping and pleading.

I hung up after some more intimate conversation and I set the phone down. I got up and walked to the bar. I needed a drink. I poured myself a glass of bourbon on ice. I had a dilemma. I had a hot date with my mother on Friday. I had a visit scheduled with my sister, the dominatrix on Saturday and probably Sunday as well. And I had my two beautiful angels sound asleep in my bed.

I had some fast talking to do. I called Meryl a number of times, but she didn't pick up, as per usual. I left her a number of messages, asking her if we could postpone our rendezvous for a week and catch up the weekend after. I didn't receive a callback.

I managed to make my arrangements with my two angels. They sat up in bed together, their faces red and swollen from sleep and silently watched me pace about, with a drink in my hand, and make my case. Lucy-girl and Kylie-girl agreed to spend the weekend with some friends, after a few quick phone calls. They could tell I had a hot date, but they didn't know I was taking their grandmother out to dinner.

I was all set. I just hoped Meryl called me back, or at least got my phone messages.

*******

It was Friday. It was our big night out together. I arrived at my mother's home, just a few minutes before 7pm. I slowly turned right into her shadowy drive, straightened my car and then drove up to the dark vast Victorian. The house loomed as I approached – a black shape touched by silver. The surrounding tree-line looked ghostly, illuminated by my headlights.

I had taken particular care of my appearance. I had dressed in a dark blue dinner suit. I wore a pair of new shoes. My hair was brushed and oiled. I was clean shaven and my breath was fresh. Importantly, I was completely sober – I hadn't touched even one glass of bourbon all day.

The car sighed softly as I cut its purring engine and sat there for a moment in the dark. I opened the car door and stepped out. My heart was thumping in my chest as I walked towards the front door of my mother's home. I felt unreal. My hands were shaking. I took each step carefully. I stood before the front door. I rang the doorbell.

It felt like an eternity of waiting, but then I heard the sound of soft sharp footsteps approaching from inside the house. Then I could see a blur of bright color emerge from the darkness, through the beautiful glass panels of her front door. There was a click and then I saw the handle turn. I took a deep breath and a step back.

The front door swung open and there she was.

"Good evening, darling," mother whispered up at me, with a soft inviting smile, stepping out of the dark house behind her and into the murky porch light. She pulled the front door closed and made sure it was locked.

"You look absolutely stunning," I whispered, when she turned back to me.

"Thank you, darling."

Miranda offered me her cheek. I placed my hand on her shoulder, leant in and kissed her softly, while she softly smacked at the air. She stepped back. She laughed. She spun around. I looked at her, enjoying her appearance. My mother was wearing a glittering red dress. The frock was tight, it plunged in front and it ended just above mid thigh. It was a sexy dress for an older woman. It outlined her beautiful body. It showed off her cleavage and her legs. Her stockings were sheer and she was wearing a pair of dazzling red high heels to show off her exquisite feet.

"You look good enough to eat, Miranda. You look like dessert. "

Mother laughed.

"I am dessert, David. You look very edible as well, darling," Miranda said, then she stepped closer, then reached out and began straightening my blue tie and adjusting my jacket.

She fussed over me for some time, talking non-stop. I smiled and looked down at her beautiful facial features and her short silver hair. Her light blue eyes were sparkling in the porch light. Her lips looked moist and red. Her rubies and diamonds glittered like her dress.

"Sorry darling," Miranda whispered, rubbing my arms with her hands. "I'm always fussing and fiddling with you."

"Hmmm, fussing and fiddling with me," I whispered down at her. "That doesn't sound so bad, mother."

"Yes, I bet it doesn't, young man," she whispered, smiling up at me.

"Maybe, we should just skip dinner, Miranda."

She scoffed and then broke into another smile. For a moment, I was all set to kiss her right then and there on the spot. I was all ready to sweep Miranda up in my arms, carry her inside the house and make love to her in her own bed.

"David, you really do look like the cat, who is about to get the cream," my mother said softly.

My cock was already hard in my good pants. I took my mother in my arms. I kissed her cheek again.

"I would be one happy and satisfied cat."

We both laughed and regarded each other.

"Are we going to make it to dinner," she asked softly, caressing the side of my face with her fingers.

"Ah, yes dinner," I whispered, my eyes drinking.

"Here, c'mon - stop gawking and leering at me, David," my mother said, stepping out of my embrace and holding my hand, "take me to dinner darling. I'm starving."

"Very well, mother,"

Soon, we were driving through the night. We were still holding hands, our fingers linked together, in the dark sedan. The car flew swiftly, the gleaming front end racing the glowing white line dividing the lanes. I was taking my mother to an intimate place, well away from her country club. I was hoping we wouldn't run into anybody – from Newport - who would see us and recognize us there. The restaurant was close to my apartment. It prepared complex enjoyable food.

We spoke to each other softly. We talked about her breakup with that Cole of Newport. We briefly spoke about my father, the ongoing divorce proceedings and the large business troubles he had. She mentioned her friends. She talked about her committees and charity work.

It was obviously such an unusual situation. I think, both of us, were nervous being together on this new terrain. It was exciting. It was fresh. It was so strange and different. I was acutely aware of her hand, her fingers interlinked with mine. It was so unreal and yet it seemed so right and so perfect to me. My mother turned to look at me constantly and I was having trouble concentrating on the road, because I was looking at her so much. Her beautiful face was cast in silver in the night, splashed with grey, submerged in the darkness of the car. Her eyes were watchful. Her lips moved softly as she spoke.

I wondered if I would lose control of myself and the car, if I kissed her.

Soon, I walked my mother into the restaurant. My arm was around her waist. We were led to an intimate table in a corner. We were seated and served bubbling sizzling champagne in tall flutes. The flames from two candles danced and flickered on the table between us. The soft light swam around us. It was only us. It was only Miranda and I - everybody in the restaurant had vanished into the surrounding darkness. Everybody else had receded into their own separate glowing worlds.

My mother sipped her champagne. She set the glass down on the table and smiled at me. I was watching her as I drank my own champagne. I put my glass down. I reached out and took her hand in mine. My eyes dropped to Miranda's cleavage almost unconsciously. She stroked my hand gently with her thumb.

"Enjoying the view," mother asked softly, slowly leaning forward.

I was silent for a second. I stared at my mother's body.

"Darling," she prompted.

"Yes, I am Miranda," I answered. "I just hope I can make it through dinner, without jumping you mid course."

"Yes, I hope so too David, or else you may get us thrown out of here."

"It would be worth it, mother," I said. "I would jump you in a second, if I could."

"You're a naughty boy, aren't you young man. I should put you over my knee."

"Oh, I'm counting on it, mommy."

My mother laughed softly. She withdrew her hand from mine. She picked up her glass of champagne and sipped. I smiled with satisfaction as she discreetly leant forward even further. Her glittering red dress fell open and she showed me more of her breasts.

I gazed at her cleavage. We were both silent. She suddenly sat up a few moments later. I slowly shook my head, as if to clear it. She laughed again.

"You really do have no self control, do you David."

"I'm afraid not, Miranda - at least, not when it comes to you."

"Are you able to control yourself in bed, David?"

"You'll find out later, Miranda."

Mother laughed. Mother watched me. She was trying to sum me up with a soft grin and her dreamy eyes.

"Are you going to be able to handle me in bed, David? Will you lose control too quickly, or will you be a real man and keep me at it all night?"

"Oh, I'll keep you up all night, mother."

"I hope so, darling. You're not a dud lay, are you?"

My eyes grew wide. My mother sipped her champagne and watched me with sparkling eyes.

A waiter appeared on the scene, before I could answer. Neither of us had even considered the menu. I looked up at our attendant and ordered the entire dinner in French from memory. I had dined there on a number of occasions recently and was well acquainted with their selections. My mother meanwhile gazed at me. She occasionally drank her champagne.

I ordered fresh drinks. The waiter turned and left our table.

"To answer your question, mommy dearest, neither of us will be getting out of bed, once we both get in. I promise you that."

My mother laughed at me. She was pleased. She then grew serious.

"I hope so, my darling," Miranda said. "You have big shoes to fill young man, trying to take your fathers place, by my side."

"And, in your bed, mother," I added.

"Yes, David - I will judge you there, just as I will judge you everywhere else."

"I'm looking forward to proving myself to you. I'm looking forward to passing every test, with flying colors, Miranda."

"I'm going to make you work up a sweat, young man. I may be 64, but I expect effort in bed. You'll have to strive and succeed to win me and keep me."

I gasped. We stared into each other's eyes. She leant forward again and her glittering red dress fell open once more. She motioned for me to lean in and turn my head. I did so. She whispered in my ear.

"How hard is your penis right now, son?"

I motioned for her to turn her head. She smiled and did so. I whispered in her ear.

"Like a rock, mother."

"Good. Keep it that way."

She was about to say something else, but the waiter was approaching. I smiled at her as the new drinks arrived. I thanked the waiter as he set the champagne down on the table. He turned and left. My heart was thumping. I raised my glass. She raised hers.

"What shall we drink to, darling," she asked.

"Let's drink to this - to me proving it to you all night, and every night, mother," I said softly, "and earning my rightful place by your side and in your bed."

"That's a good toast, David," Miranda responded.

A clink of crystal accompanied my declaration. The two of us drank. A promise was made in the restaurant and was going to be fulfilled in bed.

My mother began to touch on some different topics of conversation. We talked about my music. We talked about Meryl briefly.

"Are you sleeping with your sister, David?"

"Yes, sometimes. Is that a problem, mother?"

"Not necessarily, darling: it may be a problem later on, if our relationship blossoms. I will expect your complete attention. Meryl, will have to go."

"Yes, indeed mommy."

Miranda began probing into my life in a more invasive and critical way. She was effectively prying. She expected detailed answers to her questions. I sensed she was jealous of Meryl and myself. I didn't mind her prying. It turned me on. I loved her whining voice and her demanding patrician tone. She really was the family matriarch.

"And, you really need to work harder on your music, David, if you want the right people out there to take it seriously. I think you're failing at the moment when it comes to your music, and these are the reasons why..."

And:

"You drink far too much, David. You really need to just stop for a while and give your body a chance to heal. I think you can have an occasional glass of wine with dinner, however..."

And:

"Your finances are a mess, David. You're constantly exceeding your income and borrowing more than you should. I think we need some more ground rules..."

At one point in the conversation, she noticed me staring at her, with the lust written across my facial features. Miranda stopped abruptly in mid sentence. She suddenly smiled.

"I really don't know how you can put up with me, David," my mother said, after a moment. "And I just don't understand why you're so determined to be with me. I'll end up managing every part of your life, if you let me get even closer to you."

"I want to be with you, because I utterly adore you, Miranda."

"Darling, why would you want to be in an intimate relationship with your elderly mother? Why would you desire a cranky and conniving old gossip, like me?"

I closed my eyes. I breathed in and re-opened them.

"Because I can't live without you; because I can't stop thinking about you, Miranda."

My mother laughed softly. Her eyes grew soft. We sat there looking at each other silently as the waiter arrived with our main meals.

Miranda and I ate silently and communicated with looks, gestures, movements and smiles. I was breathing nice and hard, as I watched mother press her fork into a piece of her dinner, lift it dripping to her mouth, slowly close her red lips around it and softly suck it from her fork. I watched her chew and swallow with a smile on my face. Her pretty pink tongue touched her lips, as she watched me with her flirty eyes.

"I love watching you eat, mother," I said softly, breaking the noisy silence. "It's such a tease."

"I know you do, young man," my mother said back. "I know it's a tease. That's why I do it. I enjoy teasing you."

"Are you a prick tease, Miranda?"

"Absolutely, but only with you, my darling," she said, "it's damned good fun, prick teasing you and watching you get all frustrated and desperate."

"I see, and what about that Cole of Newport? Did you tease him as well?"

"Oh no, my darling – I never teased that pretty boy - we were always too busy for that. We were always at it behind closed doors. No time at all for teasing and stirring up trouble."

I laughed softly. Miranda laughed as well. My mother noted my jealousy. It pleased her.

"I put that young man through his paces. I made him sweat and earn it, David."

"Yes, I imagine you did, mother. I imagine that Cole was eating out of your hands."

"Yes, young man. He was doing just that, at least at first, before he lost his good sense."

Miranda picked up her glass and sipped her champagne. She set the flute back down.

"Soon, you'll be eating out of my hand, darling David."

"We'll see, mother."

"Oh, believe me, son. You will be. You will be."

She carefully stabbed more of her dinner. I didn't bother eating. I watched a small stream of creamy sauce drip into her mouth as she deposited the piece of dinner inside. Her tongue ran over the gleaming cutlery and over her upper lip. She chewed with an open mouth. I could just see the food being broken down between her teeth. I could see the sauce swimming. She was watching me. I had never seen her eat so crudely before. My cock was so hard. I could have cum in my pants.

"Are you okay, David," mother asked, with a mock innocent tone, after she had swallowed. "You're not eating, darling."

"You know why I'm not eating, Miranda."

"Don't lose control, David."

I grinned at her.

Mother discreetly reached out and took my hand in hers. She carefully ran my index finger through her dinner. It was covered with runny cream. She lifted my finger to her lips. More sauce dropped inside. She placed my cream covered fingertip in her mouth. I watched her slip the point of her tongue over the saucy end of my finger and then I felt her suck my finger clean. I was stunned into prolonged silence.

"The food here is so wonderful," Miranda said a second later, "marvelous choice of restaurant, David."

I was still quiet. I was grinning.

"Young man, do you have anything to say about this matter? Cat got your tongue, hmmm?"

"I'm going to make you suck something else later, darling mother, when we get back to my place," I finally said.

My mother burst into laughter. It rang out in the restaurant.

"Oh my God – we're both perfect for each other, darling," she stated, clapping her hands and rocking back and forth in her chair. "We're both completely crude."

"You're perfect for me because you're perfectly divine," I declared.

My mother laughed softly. I picked up my fork and ate. Miranda sipped her champagne. The waiter came by to check on us. I ordered more drinks for us. My mother was ready to keep flirting with me, once our attendant vanished.

"Do you like it when I say and do dirty things, David," my mother asked, leaning forward to show me her breasts again. "Does it turn you on?"