The Horny Housewife’s Halloween: A Son’s Naughty Temptation

It hadn’t been easy negotiating with my folks for a Halloween party at our place.

A week of arguing and foot-dragging had finally paid off after a series of tactical explanations and “growth opportunities for a young adult” speeches.

I was on a mission to scale the Beta Sigma social ladder at my college—a necessity if I was ever going to move out of the house. I was only a freshman, so acceptance was a long shot, but my parents chose to pay for my tuition and NOT dorms or housing. With my parents living only twenty minutes from campus, they figured it was a no-brainer. A part-time job and some penny-pinching on my part still wouldn’t cut it, though, so I needed to find a shortcut.

I’d heard stories about Beta Sigmas requiring pledges to live in the crew’s mansion for the first year, so after a little number crunching and figuring, I knew there were four spots vacant. Four Beta Sigmas. Only three would be selected from this year’s crop of twelve potential pledges.

In short, I’d found a loophole to getting out of my parents’ house and meeting a steamy group of coeds, but first I needed to make the list.

Step one was selling my folks on me rushing and pledging my rights to the Beta Sigma party animal.

First, I tried explaining how they’d benefit from me moving out of the house and not crashing in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, my dad was a heavy sleeper, and my mom, Gen Ryder, was a homebody.

Plan B was arguments about “becoming my own man” and “establishing independence for the greater good.” I didn’t quite win the argument, but they seemed to see the logic. In the end, I got the green light by promising to visit Sunday night for family dinner.

Once I got the go-ahead at home, I needed to stand out on the road to making the Beta pledge list. I volunteered for every conceivable activity and kissed the butts of the decision makers. I did everything to make myself invaluable and look good.

I got a lucky break when the college—under pressure from locals—banned on-campus parties for Halloween.

Halloween happened to fall on a Friday that year, and Beta Sigma was famous for its themed costume parties. This was a blow to the frat, and I knew if I could concoct a way around the rules, I’d have an inside track.

The Ryder family house is huge, located in the affordable-bourgie part of town. I knew my parents’ finished basement and backyard combo would be ideal. They were going to be out, attending a Halloween party they went to every year. I campaigned to host a party of my own, vowing to keep everything below board.

The neighbors wouldn’t be a problem, since they were set up for high-end tailgating, and my parents wouldn’t be home. My folks didn’t like the idea but eventually caved after I suggested they make a night of it and grab a hotel room. I also agreed to schedule a cleaning staff to come out, clean everything up, and bill me—and I offered to pay for Mom and Dad’s hotel rental.

I didn’t have the cash, but the Beta Sigma treasurer was convinced to take care of those expenses in return for me making the party happen.

After my last class on Friday, I spent the afternoon prepping. I went out and bought all the necessary ingredients for our Beta Sigma “secret jungle punch”—basically a potent mix of Everclear, some secret ingredients, and an old trash can repurposed for the purpose.

Next up was the costume. Easy. I went as Farmer McBasketball Star—a costume featuring a numberless jersey, red basketball shorts, a matching headband, and some old Chuck Taylors.

The party started at midnight, and my parents were leaving early for their own party at nine. I planned to finish my prep work and invite the bros over at ten for pre-party drinks.

I was in the living room when my parents returned. Both of my parents wore last-minute costumes. Dad went as a cowboy—right down to fun boys on his boots. Gen was in a slutty bunny costume.

Gen looked incredible. At thirty-seven, she could take on any of the freshman coeds. Her “costume” was simple but provocative as hell.

A tiny grandma-panty-type dress right out of a Frederick’s of Hollywood Halloween promo.

The thin, black dress hugged her curves. The neckline featured white lace with a ribbon that flopped onto the swells of her breasts. A matching white apron was tied around her waist and hung from the wide sash in the back. The skirt floated above her hips and was trimmed with girlish lace. The hem barely covered her thighs, where a pair of white thigh-highs was held up by a garter belt. The clamps poked out from under her skirt. A black choker and towering heels—making my mother look like a “MILF stripping pro.”

Her dirtyblonde hair was loose around her shoulders, drawing attention to her ripe fruits, tender and sweet, under the thin fabric.

“So, how do we look?” My mom inquired with a twinkle in her eye.

I was used to seeing my parents in less suggestive costumes and taken back at her sexy look. “I—you look good.”

“Don’t play dumb, son. I can tell you don’t like it. What’s wrong?”

“It’s not that, Mom, it’s just… Don’t you think the costume is kind of risqué?”

“What, you think I’m too old?” she teased with a twirl.

“No, Mom. You’re beautiful. I’m, uh, not used to seeing you like that. Don’t worry about it. You guys are ready to party.”

“Thanks. Don’t worry about things getting too crazy, son. I have your dad here to keep me on the straight and narrow.” Gen reached out, looping her arm through my dad’s, before winking at me, signaling she was kidding. “Come on, honey. We don’t want to be late.”

I watched as my parents headed for their beloved Nissan Altima.

“Peace out, son, and remember, you clean up this shit before we get home. And no law enforcement.”

“Bye, Mom. Don’t stress. Everything’s under control.”

I killed time until the party by watching The Price is Right. Some of the bros arrived with six-packs. Eric, in charge of the keg, dropped the ball. He showed up empty-handed, complaining about a “none-too-cool” beer distributor. I smelled an opportunity and volunteered to drive over knowing I could pull off a fake ID.

I left the bros in the basement, watching TV and drinking beer while I went to pick up the keg. At nearly eleven, my mom was sneaking in the back door. She knew I’d be pissed if she busted my balls at the party, but she thought she’d be gone before it started.

My father had left his cell phone charger at home, and she offered to come back and grab it. Mom tiptoed through the empty house, retrieved the charger, and, upon hearing the television in the basement, decided to say goodnight to her beloved son one more time.

Descending into the basement, she saw a bunch of young men watching TV—but no John. They saw her before she could sneak away.

“Oh, hi. I’m sorry. I was looking for my son.”

“Oh, he’s out and should be back soon.”

“I don’t know. I’m not supposed to come by. My son doesn’t want me to embarrass him.”

Eric, the one who failed in Keg Duty, was quick on the uptake. He realized I had hired a party stripper as a surprise.

“Don’t worry about it. We don’t mind if you join us. Here, let me get you a drink.” Eric didn’t wait for a reply and poured Mom a glass of the good stuff.

Unwilling to embarrass me any further, she decided to wait for my return so she could explain herself. She was also bored out of her mind at the other party.

“Well, I guess I can join you for just one drink.” She strutted over to the couch and took a drink from Eric.

The secret punch was a deadly combo that went down smooth and hit hard. She was a few drinks in, and she felt her buzz kick into a higher gear. The bros were already downing beer in my absence, so everyone was looking to get rowdy. They respected her wishes to wait for John’s return.

Eric took the lead and noted how good she looked in her “French Maid.”

Having slammed her drink, she was feeling hot; her guard was down. She soaked up the appreciation but thought nothing of it.

“Really? Are you sure it’s not indecent?” she asked.

“Why don’t you show us what you’re working with?” Eric took her empty cup and prompted her to do a spin. Without prompting, a refill appeared on the table.

Mom was suddenly standing in front of four horny bros. She was off balance but cool as a cucumber. “Turn around; let’s see the rest of it,” Eric prodded.

Mom felt loose and playful, so she decided to indulge them. Her costume was more revealing than she’d usually rock, but she enjoyed the result of her hard work. Mom did a slow turn, pausing with her back to them before finishing her pivot.

“Well?” she smiled. “What do you think, guys?”

The room was filled with wolf whistles and speculation. My parents had a healthy sexual relationship, but she couldn’t remember the last time Dad called her “hot” or looked at her with that kind of focus. Mom felt flushed and downed another drink. The cold punch helped her nerves as she waited on me.

“I don’t know. I feel naked without a bra,” she said, glancing at her chest and lifting her dress.

“You look fine to me; no need for a bra,” Eric continued his bro-down.

“I’m jealous; looks like you guys are going to have a blast tonight. The party I was at was a dud. I was the only one on the dance floor.”

“You can stay as long as you want.”

“No, I don’t think I should be here longer than needed.”

“You like to dance?” One of the bros walked over to the stereo and cranked up some generic dance-pop as Eric took her hand. “Let’s dance. Finish your drink first.”

Eric held her cup as she polished it off. He propped her up before her third refill. Then started to dance with Mom, staying very professional. He told her he didn’t know her name.

“It’s Gen.”

Eric put his hands on her hips and whispered in her ear. “Gen…that’s a very sexy name.”

Mom was surprised by his forwardness, but she took it as a compliment. She felt emboldened and safe…because she was home and surrounded by her son’s friends. Eventually, Mom noticed another bro “sneaki