WHAT WONDERS WEED WORKS ON MOM

WHAT WONDERS WEED WORKS ON MOM

By Oediplex 8==3~

“January First, Two Thousand Eleven … 1/1/11 … A New One – one, one, one one; a new year and a new day. I need a new . . mmm” she pondered out loud, but her husband was making sonorous vibrations still asleep next to her. She turned and looked at the nightstand … 6:10 am; why she awoke she was unsure. But she was awake and alive and still a bit buzzy from the party last night. It was two in the morning by the time the last of the guests had left their house. Quite a blow-out it had been. There was a sense of revelry which seemed to push the boundaries of all other previous New Year parties which they had given.

The kids had been old enough to join in the festivities and had some of their college friends over. The multi-generational mix had added a feeling of rejuvenation for the middle-age group which had traditionally attended their holiday blasts. Perhaps it was a spirit of passing the touch to a younger group of adults as the next era was beginning. Perhaps it was the passing of the joints brought by the kids that the older folks were toking like they were back in school themselves.

Whatever the chemistry of margaritas and marijuana, wine and weed, gin and joints; there was a wild, wanton, wicked, wonderful time had by all. Dancing bordered on seduction, games were played for little sexual favors, clothing was loose and so were the morals of some of the guests. The spare bedroom was locked several times through the evening. Certain folks shared the bathroom with persons of the opposite sex, for rather longer than needed for usual purposes. It had not turned into an orgy, but it was as close to one as she had ever been.

Yet, as the hostess, she had not had the chance to sneak even a touchie / feelie with anyone. Save from a few lingering kisses several of the male guests gave her upon leaving, she had missed out on the sneaky fun everyone else seem to be having. Wait a minute. There was a fuzzy memory of one of her son’s friends copping a feel on her tush at the sink when she was mixing some more drinks. But the youth had not followed through.

She wondered if her husband had made any passes at some of the women last night. He was a notorious flirt but seldom made any serious attempt to go any further; at least while she was around. Last night was a very liberated occasion though, perhaps he had chanced it. There was certainly a period where she had lost track of him for nearly a half an hour. It’s not like he hadn’t cheated on her once or twice. Since they were brief flings, and she and he otherwise had a great relationship, she had forgiven him. Still, it had pissed her off each time.

She had thought about getting even but never found anyone she would want to do it with. Well, she thought to herself honestly, maybe that kid last night might have been fun. Yet she wanted to have sex with someone she was fond of at least, not a quick roll in the sack with physical gratification the only motive. Intimacy was so much better when coupled with caring. Mutual giving made the act of love special and sweet and added to the sensual pleasure. It was heightened by a sense of trusting each other, you and your partner’s intimately sharing of deepest self.

She arose and slipped on a light robe over her nude form. She was still trim in her petite figure. Her breast sagged only a little and her tummy was kept tight with exercise. She might have passed for one of the college kids if she colored the start of gray out of her hair and you didn’t look too close at the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. She’d be damned if she would call them ‘crow’s feet’. A couple of tennis games a week gave her bottom a firm feel and her legs an athletic muscle tone. She bet that the kid from last night enjoyed squeezing her buns.

She descended the stairs to the kitchen for a Screwdriver to stave off a hangover, but discovered there was no more orange-juice left. However she found half a fat joint in one of the ashtrays, brought in from the perfunctory clean up effort at the end of the party. ‘COOL!’ She thought to herself, I haven’t had a chance to get decently stoned in nearly fifteen years. She had smoke a lot of pot in her youth, and on a few rare occasions since.

Things changed with work and marriage and kids. She didn’t resent the moving on into the mature roles that responsibilities required of her. But she did miss the freedom of times gone bye, now and then. She went out to the deck in the back of the house. No one up, no one to see, everything cool; she lit the marijuana and sat in a lounge chair as she sucked in the first toke. The peaceful mild morning of a warm Florida winter’s day was quiet save for bird song.

It seemed to her the idea setting for a retreat from all the concerns and duties being a grown up had. The grass was powerful, or maybe it had been so long since she had smoke some. In any case it was beginning to make her nice and high. Only one problem, she got horny when she got high. She reached between her legs and started to finger herself. In an instant she was wet. She took another toke. Maybe she should go back upstairs and see if her husband could get it up.