The knock on our door was so tentative that I barely brought my head up. My husband had caught it though, his right eyebrow drawing into a quizzical arch as he shifted his weight off me just a bit.
Then it came again, still faint as the knuckles rapped off the wood.
I lifted up on my elbows to stare at the bedroom door, aware of the disbelief on my face as I looked back to Dan. He was stifling a rather bemused grin, offering a shrug as he felt my attention.
Another knock, an edge more assertive—he wasn't going away, the nervy little shit.
"Yeah," Dan spoke up finally.
"It's me."
Without thinking I tugged the sheet over my bare breasts, the cotton weave cool against my nipples. Dan glanced at me and tossed his head with mock weariness as he played a hand down the half-slip still covering my legs.
"You need something?" Dan asked softly, sharing a mischievous wink with me as he spoke.
"Ummm..."
"Huh?" my husband cut in, a bit louder now.
"I gotta ask Mom something."
"Has to ask you something," Dan whispered close to my ear, nuzzling his mouth into crook of my neck till I pushed him away, ignoring my obvious discomfiture with this whole insanity. "...What you think he wants to ask?"
"This has got to stop," I hissed back at him.
"Hey, we made the kid a deal, you and me both."
"I don't care. We can't have him just coming down like this and..."
Dan drew an index finger along his nose as if to shush me.
The kid knocked again, two very precise taps.
"What you want to ask her?" Dan piped up, deftly working his fingertips beneath the black silk of the slip and deliberately tracing them up the length of my thigh. There was no immediate answer, no sound save for a creak of hardwood as our son nervously shifted his feet.
I listened to this silence, closing my eyes briefly to the sensation of that touch. Dan was smiling at me when I looked up to him. 'Deal's a deal," he mouthed and kissed me softly on the forehead.
"...I'll be right there," I heard myself say, drifting my eyelids down with the words.
"And don't keep her too long," Dan teased as I slipped off my side of the bed, knowing the remark was for our ears, but having no doubt that our Danny was probably still listening in from out in the hallway. I eyed my husband for a brief second as I plucked my blouse up off the back of the rocker, wondering how he was really doing with all this.
"Think he'd be surprised if you didn't wear that?" he mused.
"I think...I think it would give him new ideas. New ideas that he probably doesn't need to be having."
"You know, there's nothing sexier than a lady wearing only her wedding band."
I lifted my hand up between us, twisting the gold ring with my thumb. "That's only when it's your wife." I dredged up a devilish grin, feeling my heart palpitate as I actually considered it. "...And you'd better watch out or I'll really do it."
"Like a dare, you mean?" he parried, lifting up on one elbow as he coolly surveyed my near naked body.
"Yes."
"Like if I dare you to go down there just like that. ...With just your sexy little slip thing?"
I felt the sudden blush rising to my cheeks and shifted my gaze to the floor.
"...Dare you."
My stomach fluttered when I looked back at him, his broad generous smile cocked playfully to one side. I dropped the blouse back on the chair and opened the bedroom door, stepping back into the hallway in one long stride. I lifted my left hand—a glint of gold, my fingers trembling—and gave him a tight little wave, flavored at the last instant with my best wink.
"Bye," he said, waving back, still smiling as his topless wife closed the door and disappeared down the darkened hall.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
This particular "insanity" as I phrased it for want of a better term had started barely two weeks prior, the last week in June to be precise—the 26th, a Tuesday, just after one in the afternoon. Dan and I were both at work—he was just wrapping up an account meeting and I had just shown a house over in Shadyside. It was something we did a lot in the past year or two, a hastily arranged matinee tucked into a busy work schedule.
As was our habit, we parked our cars at the curb rather than pulling into the garage—Dan was out ahead of me, slipping through the gate that led to our backyard. Two or three times that summer a nice sunny afternoon had spelled a fun skinny dip in our pool followed up with an unusually hard fucking as I knelt in the patch of lawn beneath our new patio. Forty-three years old and going back to the office with grass stains on your knees and your thighs sticky with cum makes a girl feel a whole lot younger than forty-three. At least it did with me.
"Get this off," Dan laughed, pinning me against the siding as he yanked my blouse free, not bothering to unbutton it as he pulled it up over my head, his mouth pressed to mine, my arms tangled in the sleeves, that delicious syrupy warmth spreading up the length of my body, aware of the coarsening in my breath as he freed my arms and tossed the blouse onto the shrubbery. "...God, I love strippin' you," he whispered lewdly, deft as he flicked open the clasp of my brassiere, an almost electric sensation as the lace cups slipped off my breasts, his free hand sliding my skirt upwards till I felt his fingers digging into the soft roundness of my butt.
"So, you wanna fuck me, mister?" I murmured, the words as much a part of our lovemaking as anything.
"I'm gonna fuck you so hard."
"I can take it," I grinned defiantly, always the same words, always that lively thrill as I tossed my head a bit.
"Go on, get your hot little ass in the water," Dan laughed, playfully shoving me so that I was staggering ahead of him as we rounded the corner into the backyard of our property.
I remember stopping dead in my tracks. Or teenaged son Danny, who should have been out with the landscaping crew that afternoon, was standing along one of our chase lounges naked as the day, his erect cock getting stroked furiously by a shirtless guy with dirty blond hair.
Dan actually almost crashed into me from behind—neither of them aware of us for that long second or so till I gasped louder than I thought possible, standing there stripped to the waist, my shoes kicked off, tits swaying stupidly.
"Hey," Dan fairly shrieked stupidly, his arm out pointing at them as the blond boy's hand froze in mid-stroke, our Danny's face blanching of color as he turned and saw us there. And in that instant before anything happened, all of our eyes met.
"Danny," I choked, my voice strangled.
His mouth moved but he made no sound. The shirtless kid who was probably no older that his early twenties suddenly bolted, up on his feet, running, taking the tall fence that backed our yard in frantic scrambling heave—I'd crossed my arms, stupidly trying to cover my breasts.
"What is this," Dan yelled, taking a step around me. I grabbed him, not sure of what he was thinking, his tone more stunned than angry.
And Danny bolted for the house, leaving his clothes and dirty sneakers scattered on the hot flagstone.
"No, no," I was saying, gripping into my husband so that he couldn't follow him inside. "No...Just let him go for now."
An hour later, both our schedules cleared as we called in with an unspecified family emergency, Dan and I sat out by the pool. The ice clinked in his glass as he swirled the tall VO and ginger ale I'd fixed him. I wondered what was going though his mind after seeing what we'd just seen. It had floored me and I didn't have all the testosterone bullshit swilling in with it.
"We have to talk about it with him," I said softly, garnering a slight nod.
"It doesn't mean he's gay," I went on, though I reflected blackly that having another man jerking you off didn't go a long way to defining you as straight either.
"Not that there's anything wrong with it," Dan answered as he blankly stared at the stone beneath his feet, parroting the old sitcom gag but having his voice betray a raw pain as it crackled.
"He's our son and we love him," I said, almost as if I needed to remind us both.
"I do, I do." He looked up at me and tried for a wink, a tear welling in the corner of his eye "I love him no matter what."
"Let's go up and talk to him then."
He nodded and took my hand, squeezing it gently as we started back into the house.
Three knocks to get the door open, Danny hunched on the edge of his bed, face skewed away from us.
"We're not mad at you," I started. "...We're not."
"I'm sorry."
"You don't need to say that, Sport," Dan said in a husked voice, reaching out to touch our boy's shoulder only to have him cringe away.
"We're just worried about you," I went on. "...It doesn't matter to us if you're..."
"I'm not gay," he blurted angrily, furiously swiping at the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"We're not saying you are," Dan put in, again patting his shoulder as he sat on the opposite side of the bed.
I looked at Danny sitting there and was just reminded of what a painfully shy kid he'd always been. No girlfriend yet, never even what you'd call a real date—I recalled an occasion a year or so before when a thin, rather plain girl had come up to say hi as we'd shopped in the mall. She liked him, you could see it, but Danny blushed and sputtered, ready to crawl out of his skin. And yet I could tell he liked her too. I'd kidded with him over it, but had felt bad for him in that same instant.
"Who's this kid who was out there?" Dan asked.
"Nobody," came the answer, his head shaking dejectedly.
"Has he...has he ever been over here before?"
"No, no..."
"You don't have to lie about it. If he was here before, it doesn't matter. "
"We're just worried about you," I interjected, knowing I was repeating myself now for want of something to say.
Danny moved his head, sniffling loudly.
"So he wasn't here then, that's what you're saying?"
"He wanted to...never before..."
"...Well, you aren't in trouble, okay," Dan said quietly. "We'll all talk about it all tomorrow."
"We love you," I whispered as I kissed the top of his head.
It was as if Dan and I both willed ourselves not to speak of it until we were in bed that night. Nothing, not a single syllable, and then, quietly: "What're you thinking?"
"Kid's a teenager and teenage boys think solely with their dicks," Dan said in a resigned tone. "They wanna get off and trying to be rational and intelligent about it doesn't work. I used to be one, remember?"
"But you never did...you never did it like that, with..."
"I had a plump little redheaded girlfriend before I could drive and she'd..."
"She jerked you off."
"Unfortunately that was all she'd do, but she did keep it well milked."
"That's gross," I said, nudging him in the ribs with my elbow.
"And you obviously helped some boys with their stress," he teased back, his first real smile since our backyard encounter.
"I was always a good girl," I shot back straight-faced.
"I'm sure you were good."
"When I first did it, I thought it was disgusting. It was vile, it was on my hand and my sweater and...
"Then you met me."
"I started liking it a bit before I met you," I answered judiciously. "...I just didn't realize they came that big before I met you."
Dan's hand was on my leg, rubbing slightly. I loved how it felt with him...I was still a virgin when I met him in college. I'd never even sucked off a boy till then, never envisioned myself liking it even. Just yucky backseat handjobs and horned-out teenage kids squeezing on my smallish tits.
"Stop," I said, shaking my head as I brushed his hand away. "We have to figure what we're going to do."
"Maybe he's queer."
"Don't say it like that!"
"You never know who is and who's not. I'm hoping he ain't, trust me. Let it just be some phase or better just a kid looking to get his rocks off one way or another."
"He needs a girlfriend, is what he needs."
"What he needs is a regular hand with it, that's what he needs," he said wryly, raising his palms up as opposite sides to a scale. "One hand the fag with no shirt, the other a chick with some passable tits and a fast hand. Maybe a sweet little mouth on her too, if he's lucky."
"Let him know the full range of his options."
"You bet."
"Just gotta get him a girl. That sounds easy as all hell, excepting for the fact that our son's ability to speak seems to vanish as soon as a girl bats an eye his way."
"...Maybe we can volunteer you for the job."
"I swear to god I would do it too. If I knew it would..."
"That solves it then," Dan said with a playful smirk.
"What do we do? I mean really?"
Dan straightened himself up against the headboard, fixing his mouth in lines of concentration.
"We can do just what you said," he went on evenly.
"Just what..."
"Cut a deal with him. He swears off anything like what happened out there today and he can ask you..."
"I'm being serious."
Dan shifted so that he was facing me, eyeing me over the edge of his glasses: "...It may shock you, but I am being very serious."
"What? He promises no more whack-off sessions with boys and in turn I..."
"He can ask you and you would..."
"I jerk him off! I grab my son's cock and I masturbate him. Or do I have to suck it too?"
"Shhh," Dan murmured, gesturing for me to hold my voice down—I realized I'd been nearly shouting in his face. I stopped and drew in a deep breath, then another.
"Don't shush me," I hissed, though I did reel in the volume.
"Did you think about it?" he said quickly, a finger up to cut any new outburst short: "Eh, eh! Don't take my head off, okay. I'm just asking if you'd thought about it. Not now, but before. ...Before I even mentioned it."
"...Yes," I finally answered, feeling a high color on my face.
"Thought about doing that for him, for our kid?"
"...Yes," I answered, pretty much just moving my lips over the word, not able to even look at my husband.
"Then why not do it?" he asked.
"Because I am his Mom and..."
"And you love him and would do anything for him...anything at all, right."
"And you don't think it would mess him up? I mean in a serious, major league way."
"Men can compartmentalize when it comes to sex. It's a simple fact. They can just divorce it from other emotions. "
"And you..."
"If it helps straighten him out..."
"No pun intended, right?"
"No, no pun intended. If it straightens him out, then I am perfectly okay with it. ...Look, just sleep on it. If you can't..."
"No, I'll do it."
"You're sure?"
"Yes," I nodded, stiffening a bit as he stretched over to peck my lips.
I really wish I could say that I agonized over it, that I wrestled with the right and wrongs of it—that I at least tossed and turned all night with the dark ramifications of it, but that would be lie. I decided then and there that I'd do it, that I'd offer myself to help him out, that I wouldn't do it in a grudging way, but would be open and loving with it. I just simply decided that I'd make the offer, and truth be told, I slept like a baby for the rest of that night.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"I said it wouldn't happen again," Danny said sullenly. "I told you I'm not..."
"We believe you," my husband cut in, glancing across to me for support.
"Then can I go?"
"One minute, okay?" Dan said, lifting his index finger for emphasis. "...Sit."
Danny reluctantly sat down. He was dressed for his summer job with the landscaper, worn jeans and a tired looking white tee.
"We talked about this situation and feel that you need another diversion if you really want to stay away from situations like yesterday,"
Danny was flustered, more than embarrassed, squirming as he sat there.
"We, your Mom and I, thought about it and we're willing to make you deal."
"I said I wouldn't ever do anything like..."
"We both believe you. We do. ...We're just offering you a deal that would make it easier to resist that kind of temptation."
"You're supposed to ask what it is," I piped in cheerily.
"...What is it?"
"If you need...if you want, you know, release..."
I glanced over as my husband stammered—the clinical echo of the word "release" actually bringing me close to giggles.
"I will jerk you off anytime you want for the next year," I said, bringing astonished looks from each of them, though my kid's jaw was dragging farther than my Dan's. "...You ask and I will do it, simple as that. On your side, all you've got to do is promise that there'll be no more of what we saw out by the pool during that time. ...Then, after a year, you can decide what you want to do. ...Does that sound fair?"
Danny's expression was dumbfounded—he couldn't answer if he wanted.
"You think about it and let us know tonight," I said and stood up from the table, nodding in dismissal to them both.
"You'll be okay," Dan said to our boy as he stood up, patting him on the shoulder and picking his briefcase off the dining room table. He rolled his eyes at me as I stepped in to kiss him goodbye at the door, "I'll call you later," whispered close to his ear.
"What time is the truck picking you up?" I asked my son as I closed the door.
Danny was still staring at me with something close to awe, almost shaking his head to recall the question: "... About eight-thirty I think."
I looked at the clock—twenty minutes or so.
"I know we shocked you with our proposal," I said as I sat back down at the table.
"I..."
"I think it's only fair that you find out what you'd be getting if you said yes," I smiled coyly. "Like taking a test drive with a new car."
Danny was frozen in place, swallowing hard, flustered.
"Come here," I motioned. "...Stand in front of me."
"Mom, you don't..."
"Come over here," I urged more gently, waving him over until he got up and in a few halting steps had come in front of where I was seated. I could see the outline of his erection through the scruffy jeans.
"Relax," I said, reaching up and popping the brass button open, meeting his gaze as I slowly pulled down the zipper. "...I said relax, I'm not going to bite...at least not this time," went on smiling, fishing my fingers in along his waistband and tugging the denims downward, bunching them around his knees, his cock bent crookedly within the white briefs. I brushed my fingers over it through the cotton, never taking my eyes off his.
"You want me to stop?"
He shook his head, looked around nervously as if some neighbor had their face pressed to a window.
I hooked my thumbs in along the elastic band and pulled them down, his cock springing up with a mind all its own.
"You have a nice one," I mused—and it was nice, thick, maybe seven inches long with thick bulbous head. Thicker than his Dad's, not quite as long, but beautiful, stiffly at attention, his testicles tightened at the base.
"Thanks," he wheezed, shaking as I feathered my hand over the smooth shaft, through the fine hair as I brushed and cupped his balls. I shocked myself as I enjoyed it too—I hadn't really expected that.
"Are you ready?"
He nodded rigidly, looking down as my palm encircled his cock and started stroking it in a measured pace, feeling the heat as it swelled to a deeper purple, the head smoothing it became even more gorged with blood—not even two minutes and I could hear his breath coarsening, his hips bucking with the movements of my hands, the choked grunt and then the higher bleating as he completely lost it, thrusting into my gripped hand as he started spurting, head-on before me, thickened globs of semen whipping out across the front of my white blouse, flaying back over my hands and forearms. I closed my eyes for a second as I continued to get merrily wet...
"...I'm sorry," he was saying, pulling back from me as I opened my eyes. He'd made a fine mess of my outfit, skirt, blouse, even my shoes.
"It's okay," I said calmly, feeling happily serene for no particular reason. "...You better go and clean up before your ride comes."
He hurriedly pulled up his jeans and underwear together, unable to really take his eyes off me as I used a table napkin to swab some of the sperm off my hands and arm. "Go ahead," I shooed, "Get cleaned up and think about whether you want this treatment for the next year."
"...I do."
"Hey, you're supposed to at least think about it first."
"I..."
"I'll be home from work early today, I just have like three showings and then that's it, so I'll be home by three at the latest. When you get home, if you still want it to be our deal, then take a shower and knock on our door. I'll be on the computer doing stuff."
That day was like a blur for me—no work getting done, no sales, nothing of any consequence, though I did call Dan and confess to him what I'd done. He laughed and called me impetuous, then thanked me for taking over the sales pitch that morning. I tried to listen to his intonations, to get some hint as to how he really felt about his wife doing something like this, and with his kid no less.
At home later, I was on the computer pretty much staring at the screen when I heard my son come in, listening as he walked through the quiet house, stopping outside my door and then stepping away—an almost euphoric surge as I listened to the dull vibration of a water pipe as he started taking his shower.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
That was all just under two weeks ago. I'd met him coming out of the shower that day, more prepared than at our breakfast table that morning—a bottle of Johnson and Johnsons baby oil, a thick hand towel. I sat on the edge of his bed and boldly asked him to towel off in front of me, that cock of his already rigid with teenage passion. He had a beautiful young body, five-eight, slender in his build, his chest smooth still, a thick shank of unruly dark curly hair capping off a delicately handsome young face.
I'd asked him to lay down on the bed and a squirt of oil that I warmed between my palms, that slippery heat as I slathered his hard shaft, fascinated as he went with absolutely rigid with his orgasm, a matter-of-factness as I swabbed the semen off his stomach with the towel, a chaste kiss to his forehead as I stood to go.
"Morning or night, whenever you want it," I said from the doorway. "...Now just lay back and have a nap while you're relaxed."
Morning or night proved to be morning "and" night over those next eleven days. Mornings before he'd leave for his summer job, as soon as Dan would leave for the office—and once while he was still sitting down with his coffee, Danny beckoning me to his room with a desperately subtle flicker of his eyes. And every afternoon as soon as he'd get dropped off by the truck—a shower and he'd come for me, towel around his waist, hair dampened, cock hardened.
After the fifth or sixth day he started to get more frisky, a brush of his hand along my waist, a hesitant caress against my breast as he would start coming. I'd of course shrugged off the small gropes, once even halting my masturbatory attentions to pull his hand off my left tit. "No," I'd whispered, knowing even in that instant that it wasn't fair to expect him to stay in control while I was whipping him into a sexual frenzy.
I'd told Dan all of it, shocked at first that he'd become visibly excited with the details, our own frenzy of lovemaking stretching from one night into the next, exhausted as we'd finally collapse against each other on our sweat soaked sheets. "Kid's gonna want some tit, it's only natural," he gasped as he rode into me one night, bending his head to tug at my nipples with his teeth.
And now here I was standing outside my son's bedroom topless, that clingy slip hanging down to just above my knees. I stopped out there and asked what I was doing with this. A nightlight down the hall cast shadows on my body. I was forty-three, a good forty-three but years are always years—smallish tits are increasingly a blessing as gravity holds reign over your body. My breasts were still supple, maybe a little sag, the nipples dark and small—I had good tone in my legs and ass from walking, a bit thicker in my frame than I was up through my early thirties, clear olive complexion, pretty—beautiful and gorgeous were never apt words for me, but pretty and cute always were. My hair was cut stylishly short, very businesslike—I'd long since given up yanking the lonely threads of gray out. I listened to the AC click on and shivered a bit, wishing that I still had my hair long like I did when I was young so I could shroud my son's bare chest with it, a strange thought, I knew.
"Hi," I said on entering, the bright bedside light making me blink. Danny was standing alongside the bed, naked, fully tumescent. He eyed me with apprehension, then a hungry surprise, my arms crossed in front of my bare chest, palms cupped chastely over my breasts.
"Is Dad mad?"
"You did interrupt us a bit," I smiled, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the mattress, my son doing the same so we faced each other, our knees brushing.
"Sorry."
"No you're not," I giggled, sounding very girlish now, dropping my hands at last and straightening my spine so they were on their finest display. "...Do you like them?"
He nodded and reached—I took hold of his wrists and slowly brought his hands to them, a callused roughness as he enthusiastically felt me up.
"Can..."
I leaned to him. "Go slow," I whispered, he bent and kissed one then the other, looking up at me as he gingerly took the right nipple in his mouth and suckled. "...A little harder..." He sucked it, his tongue rough on it, I felt myself getting wet, a lightness at the base of my skull. "Bite it...just easy though..." His white teeth pinched down on it, then shifted across to the other. "Do it harder..." He tugged at it, stretching it out, teeth sharp on it, tugging, moist...
"Sit back," I said and slipped off the bed so that I was kneeling in front of him, absently teasing a peaked nipple up the length of his dick, leaned in and feathered my lips over the entire shaft, a bubble of semen shiny at the head. I kissed it off, his breath was coarse...I had to get out of here now, I sat back and stroked him to a furious climax, splayed with ejaculate, standing up too quickly on rubbery legs, wordlessly staggering back to my husband with the cum in rivulets across my chest.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Morning," I chirped as Danny came into the bright, sun-dappled kitchen. He had that mussed, just-out-of-bed look, a white tee shirt and those tired old denim cutoffs that I wanted to throw out with every wash. "Did you sleep okay?"
He gave a quick nod, a wary unease to his manner. "...Dad gone?"
"He had an early appointment. Do you want some eggs, or I could do pancakes if you like?"
"Was he mad?"
"Mad about what?" I asked, trying to pretend that I hadn't come so close last night, so close to...
"You know, knocking on your door, and you..."
"My burlesque," I laughed, doing a quick sashay for him, still seeing he was uneasy.
"He wasn't mad?"
"No he wasn't," I said evenly, making my smile more playful. "...I made him very happy when I went back."
"Did you fuck him?"
"Please, listen to the mouth on you," I blurted with bemused outrage, shaking my head more at the question that the word.
"Sorry."
"...So, is it eggs or hotcakes?"
"What did you do?"
"Your mind is very one track today," I said, saw he was waiting for an answer, didn't want to say that it was none of his business, which of course it wasn't. "...If you must know I performed what the Italians call an act of fellatio."
"You sucked it?"
"Fellatio sounds nicer and I did it very well I might add." I found myself wanting to say it, to tell him the nasty details, his father sitting against the headboard naked when I came in, the sperm already drying across my skin as I climbed atop our mattress, feeing the wetness between my legs, arching up to show how I'd been marked. "...You are such a naughty girl," he said devilishly, smearing a bit of the semen around with his thumb, lifting the thumb to my lips for me to lick it clean. "I am," I'd answered. "I was very bad, very bad."
"Did he come in your..." Danny started, jarring me out of my revel.
"Yes, and before you pull up your next question, that answer is yes too," I said, sticking my tongue out at him, remembering his father gripping into the sheets as I bobbed my head over his straining cock, scraping my teeth deliciously along the heavily veined underside, still clad in the lacy black half slip which had so entertained our son, a stifled shriek as he finally ejaculated in my mouth, that crawly coolness of his semen as I eagerly gulped it down.
"...Would you suck me?"
"That's not what we agreed to," I heard myself answering too quickly, shaking my head—I should have seen that he'd want it. If I hadn't gotten myself out of there last night, I would've...
"You kissed it last night."
"Yeah, last night we maybe did too much."
"I know you wanted to?" he went on, standing up and pulling his tee up over his head. He was slim framed, a skinny kid really, lithe in his musculature, smooth and tanned from his work in the sun that summer. I felt a sudden weakness in my legs as he stepped closer to me, hands gentle along my curves of breasts.
"I did," I nodded.
"Give me a blow job."
"Don't say it like that."
"Can I undress you?"
I was shaking my head, backed tightly against the refrigerator now, no conviction in anything, his fingers already undoing the buttons of my blouse.
"I'll do it," I whispered finally, pulling the blouse free of my skirt and draping it back over my shoulders, bringing his hand up to the clasp at the front of my brassiere, holding his hand as he snapped it free and slid the straps off my shoulders. Sucking on them now, pulling my whole tit into his mouth, hands roaming freely from my back down towards my butt, grinding off of me.
"You swallowed for him, didn't you?"
"I always do, I always do."
His lips were on mine, pressing, his tongue, I opened my mouth and kissed him back, his cock pressed against my waist, humping...
"Suck mine."
"Don't ask me, tell me," I whispered breathlessly as his body pressed even harder against me.
"Do it," he muttered with a malevolent lust, a hand on my bare shoulder, pressing me downwards. "...Suck my cock. On your knees and suck it!"
I was genuflecting on the hard tile floor then, struggling with the cutoffs, pulling them down to his ankles, his hardened cock at attention before me—I'd so wanted to take it in my mouth last night, I'd wanted to do more too, I'd wanted to...
"Open your mouth," he commanded, his hand gripped into my hair as he brought it to my lips, I opened my mouth to it, that familiar silken feel on my tongue, the heat—I took it deep, suctioned hard on him feeling it swell, wet sloshing as I worked my head from side to side, swirling my tongue, cupping his testicles, lightly squeezing them as I tried not to gag, lifting my eyes to him, my son watching me intently, mesmerized with the sight of what I was doing, feeling him close, closer, the shaft swelling as his face contorted, minutes blurring as he bucked his hips to the sway of my head, the thin bleating as he started to climax, sucking it deeper, watching his face...
"...cocksucker..."
The word caved in on me as he powerfully shot into my mouth, a retching flood of sperm, briny, thick and globby as he gripped my hair and shoved his cock in to the hilt, grinding it relentlessly into my face, as if trying to purposely gag me...
He stepped away finally, almost tripping on his bunched up shorts, quite stunned by what he'd just done, the violence and passion of it, what he'd said. I deliberately opened my mouth for him, opaque cum in a puddle on my tongue, dripping over my lower lip. I tipped my head back and swallowed it all.
"Mom..."
I put my hands out on the floor and hung my head as I tried to catch my breath, after a moment his hand gentle on my back.
"Mom..."
"I'm okay," I nearly sobbed, still tasting his seed.
"Mom, I'm sorry."
"I'm okay," I repeated as I weakly sank my head against the cold tile.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Hi," I answered, not masking the excitement in my voice, the phone pressed tightly to my ear lest someone eavesdrop on our words. It was a blisteringly hot afternoon, the taller buildings on the distant skyline lost in haze. I'd called Dan maybe fifteen minutes before and gotten his voicemail—I stayed parked in an Olive Garden lot waiting, not trusting myself to fumble for his callback while I barreled along the parkway.
"Hey, Babe," came my husband's voice, a scratchy connection.
"Can you get away?" I nearly gushed—I needed it, I was in one of those moods, one of those manic nympho rushes that I'd never had until I was in my mid-thirties. I'd been thinking about it all morning, craving it in a way that was almost unsettling—I'd caught myself fantasizing about being down on my knees in the kitchen two days ago, a searing recall of my son's hard cock in my mouth, thickening as he quickly reached his climax. I hadn't done anything since. No more of my room visits, avoiding him when I could, even turning away from Dan's advances that same night.
"I can't," Dan muttered, sounding deflated as he said it.
"C'mon, just a half hour or so, I promise I'll make it worth your while."
"Can't do I, hon. Hanson's got a meeting with that new..."
"Fine," I snapped.
"...I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I said after a long moment.
"One of our backyard romps would've been great."
"Yeah," I answered sullenly, realizing that we hadn't had one since when we walked in on Danny and that jerk-off asshole. What was it? Three weeks ago, three weeks and now my own son had cum in my mouth. Called me a...
"...You want, I think I know someone else who can do the job," my husband said softly.
"What, is that what you wanna happen?" I snapped. "You want me to let him fuck me!"
"...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"I've got to go," I muttered, resting my forehead against the steering wheel.
"Karen."
"Yes," I whispered, still sagged against the wheel, already feeling bad for snapping at him.
"You and I both knew where..."
"Please, don't," I said, rocking my head from side to side.
"We both knew where this was going from that first night. Both of us knew, even if we didn't say it aloud. You wanted to give him...how'd you say it?"
"Let him know the full range of options," I murmured flatly, a rote enunciation.
"Full range is the full range, you know what I mean. Look I love you, you know that. And I gotta tell you that as weird as it goes, the thought of you, you know...the thought of you doing that for him was..."
"I sucked his cock two days ago," I cut in flatly, weeping now, barely audible, wondering if he actually heard it. "...He came in my mouth."
"...It's okay."
"It's not okay. It's fucking not. ...He called me a..."
"It's okay," he said again, firmer now, a sharpness in his tone.
"You don't understand."
"...You liked it," he said softly.
"Yes," I sighed, that single word breaking a tension that had been ruining me for the past two days...hell for the past three weeks, ever since I'd first had him stand awkwardly before me as I unsnapped his jeans. I should have said I loved it, that I loved his hands on me. That it made me fucking wet like a slut. That I'd wanted him to...
"And why shouldn't you like it?"
"Because I shouldn't, that's why."
"But you do, and obviously Danny does too. Am I right?"
"And you? How are you dealing with...I just told you I sucked our son's..."
"I knew the score going in," he cut in, the connection filling with a murderous static. "I'm not naïve enough to think you could just..."
His voice was gone, the bars on my screen flicking down to near nothing. I tried to call back but couldn't get through. Off in the haze I could see towering thunderheads forming, the sky darkening. I tried again, then again—nothing.
I folded the phone and slid it back into my purse and keyed the ignition, careful as I pulled out of the parking lot, my body shaking as I crossed into the lane for our exit, sticking just below the speed limit. I circled our neighborhood for twenty minutes until I found the landscaping crew working on one of the newer developments near Essex. Thunder sounded off in the distance and I could smell the rain in the air. Danny was up past the circular drive with two other boys wresting grass trimmings into a fifty gallon drum. He spotted me crossing the lawn in my neat business suit, the gray slacks a rarity for me, as I almost always wore skirts or dresses.
"Can I rob you of a worker, Al," I asked, addressing myself to Al Cummings the owner of the business and someone with whom I'd often contract to spruce up properties I was selling.
"Sure," he laughed, looking up and waving Danny down from the drive. I always thought Al wanted to fuck me and right now I'd have let him jam me face forward into an unpainted sheetrock wall and have at it, I was that pent up. "Looks like we're all going to be knocking off soon anyway," he went on, indicating the darkening sky with a dip of his shaved head.
"Hey, Mom," Danny said as he came up to us, tentative, unsure of what I was doing there.
"She sprung you," Al cut in, in his rough way.
"Thanks Al," I said, and whisked Danny down to the Lexus.
"What's up," he said as I pulled out onto the pavement. He knew I'd been thrown off by what happened in the kitchen. I'd put him off three times since then, once as he presented himself naked in the doorway of our bedroom.
"I'm horny, is what's up," I said shakily. "...You think you wanna fuck me?"
"I thought I wasn't supposed to say that word," he said with a tight smile.
"It's okay to say if that's what you're going to be doing, how's that?"
"I..."
"Easy question, you want to fuck or no?"
"...Yeah," he said.
"Good, then hang on," I said, making sure he had his belt on as I buried the accelerator, topping out at over eighty as I cut back towards our house, the speed a rush as I squealed through several corners, laying a five foot skid mark on our street as I slammed short on the brakes.
"Come on," I said as I jumped free of the car, the phone sounding as we went up along the side of the house and out towards the patio. "Hi," I answered crisply.
"Sorry we got cut off, babe," Dan's voice began.
"It's okay," I answered, gesturing my son over to the covered portion of our deck.
"I can get off in a bit if you're still..."
"No, I took your other advice," I said, the first drops of rain starting followed by a terrific boom of thunder.
"My...my advice..."
"I got a note for Danny's teacher and he's here with me right now," I said, dropping my tone as I stopped and looked skyward, a few heavy drops pelting my face.
"He is, is he?"
I knew Danny couldn't hear me, but I turned anyway and tucked my head over the phone. "I'm gonna let him strip me and fuck me, right out here on the grass."
"Okay..."
"And when you get home, I want you to fuck me too. Hard as you can."
"That's pretty hard."
"You know I can take it."
"...It's a date then."
"Then I should get going...and get myself stripped naked. Nothing like getting stripped by a horned-out teenage boy, is there?"
"Karen?"
"Yes."
"I love you, you know that."
"I love you too," and I folded the phone, turned to Danny, the rain coming down in sheets now, another crash of thunder that made me cringe.
Get outta the rain, Mom," he shouted from the deck.
"I've always wanted to get fucked in the rain...in a thunderstorm," I yelled, thankful that we had no close neighbors. My hair was already getting plastered against my head as I kicked off my heels, peeling off my wet blazer, the slacks soaked, Danny was shaking his head and suddenly was laughing at me out there, the bra unclasped and dropped, the lacy Victoria's Secret panties slipped down and stepped out of.
"Don't be afraid," I shouted, lifting my face again to the sting of the drops.
Danny came across the grass, getting soaked to the skin as he peeled away his work clothes, naked then, coming up to me, wrapping my arms around him and locking my mouth to his, his fingers probing down through my thick bush, bold now as he worked a finger into my damp labial folds, .
"This way," I whispered huskily as I turned my back to him, a hand on my shoulder pressing me down to my knees, forward till I was spread out with my hands, rain blistering over us, his hands on my hips, following the deep groove above where it met my thigh, vulnerable, a lightening crackle over us, something hit nearby, the fine hair on my arms bristling, ozone thick in the air.
Danny tried to enter me, tried again but slipped short of it. I bent my head down and reached beneath my body, rain cascading off me, dribbling down my nipples. I found his cock and guided it, the jolt of pleasure as it pressed into my vulva, deeper, a gasp as he slid inside me, the burning sensation and then he drew out and drove that first thrust into me...
aghhh...
I came almost instantly, a blinding surge that I hadn't expected, the orgasm rippling from deep in my pelvis, rising again...
aghhhh...god, god...
I grabbed into the muddy sod as he tugged my head back by a shank of wet hair, shaking me, another orgasm, more blinding than the first, crackling the length of my spine, arching my back up...
aghhhh...ahhh...aghhhhhh...fuck me...fuck me...harder...fuck...aghhhhhhh....
He was bearing down on me then, my face was being ground down into the flooded grass, biting into it as Danny grappled a hold on my hips and started pounding himself into my vagina, anchoring me with his grip so I took the full impact of every thrust, grunting, lifting my knees off the ground as he drove his full weight into me...
I felt another orgasm peaking, deeper now, my face in the runoff, choking on the water as I felt it coming, another crack of thunder, a crescendo of hot pleasure that overcame me, going limp as it swept though up my nervous system, the orgasms like a string of firecrackers, so fast, one into the next till I was aware of an almost mindless shriek sounding in my ears, going black, black...black...
"Mom."
I opened my eyes slowly, the rain softer now, dying into a drizzle. Danny was anxious, a scared expression on his good-looking face. I settled my breath and made myself smile. Clots of grass were still clenched in my fists. I could taste it between my teeth, shivering now. Danny was shivering too. I reached for him with my dirty hands and hugged him to me as tight as I could.
"That was so good," I whispered close to his ear. "...Did you come?"
"Yeah," he nodded, boyish embarrassment etched round his eyes.
"Good," I held him tighter, feeling his heart pound, wishing I'd felt him come inside me. "...Did you like it?"
He nodded and grinned.
"This is gonna be a real fun couple months, baby, don't you think?" I said almost to myself, feeling the rain finally ebb away and a single ray of sun brighten against the otherwise dark sky.