Submissive Mom - chapter 2

Chapter Two: Mistake 2, I reluctantly join in

 

That night, over dinner, Robert broached the subject once again. I was going to have to address what happened.

“Mom, I think we should talk about last night.”

“OK, you start.” I said buying time until I could get my thoughts together.

“Do you know what I was doing when you came down the steps?”

OK, let’s take a clinical approach to this situation, I thought. “I assume you were masturbating.”

“Yes, I was. Are your ok with me doing that in your house?”

“Of course I am. That is a normal, healthy activity for someone your age. There is nothing wrong with that, nothing to be ashamed of.” I reassured.

“Do you do it?” he asked.

Oh my, I thought; this has taken a nasty turn. Surely he could see me last night. “Yes, I have been known to masturbate on occasion.”

“How often do you masturbate, mom?”

“Robert, I am not comfortable discussing this with you.”

“Mom, you are trying to tell me that masturbation is normal, healthy and there is nothing wrong with it. Yet you don’t want to talk to me about a normal, healthy activity that you admit you do. Which is it?”

“OK, you are right. It is a little embarrassing, but there is nothing wrong with it, and it is normal.” I took a deep breath. Then I took a long sip of my glass of merlot. “Yes, I masturbate, or try to, several times a week.”

“Try to?” Robert questioned.

“Yes, try to. Here is a little known fact about your mother. It is often difficult for me to reach a climax. So I often try, but do not fully succeed.”

“Why do you have trouble cumming?”

“Whoa, your not even going to use the clinically correct terms, are you? You are going directly for the street slang? OK, we’ll use terms you are comfortable with. I guess I have trouble because I am easily distracted, and struggle with the feeling that on some level that sex is wrong. But I know that is silly way to feel; that sex, in particular, masturbation is normal and healthy. Nonetheless these irrational feelings I have do interfere sometimes.”

After a bit more back and forth, I cleared the table and went up stairs to change. I returned wearing a tee shirt that I normally wearing to bed, with my panties modestly on underneath. Robert had selected the movie “Mandingo” from a cable station and was on the couch wearing only a pair of loosely fitting gym shorts. Mandingo was a sexy, R rated film about the old south and slavery, and contained considerable inter racial sex scenes. It was a steamy film.

As the scenes became more and more explicit, I could see Robert’s penis begin to grow and stiffen under the thin material of his gym shorts. Between the images on the screen, the very vivid memories of Roberts’s erection from the previous night, couple with the growing tent in his gym shorts in front of me, I was becoming increasingly aware of my own clitoris and the growing wetness of my vagina. I also knew that my nipples had grown completely erect and were clearly visible through my tee shirt.

Right there in front of me, Robert reached down and slowly massaged himself through his gym shorts. I was curious, aroused, and tried not to act shocked. He was now obviously fully erect. He looked directly at me, continued to stroke himself and said coyly, “I will if you will.”

I blushed and feigned not understanding what he was saying. In fact, I was not entirely sure I did understand what he was saying.

“You know. It’s normal, healthy and there is nothing wrong with it. Join me.” As he smiled towards my barely covered crotch.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that with you. It would be wrong. And it would be embarrassing.”

“You yourself told me it is normal and healthy. Come on.” As he placed his hand into his gym shorts to stroke himself “skin-to-skin”.

I know now, as I knew then, that I should have politely gotten up and excused myself at that moment. I would like to claim I do not know why I did not get up at that moment; but the truth is I was very, very aroused by this whole perverse situation. Despite all logic and reason to the contrary, I slowly reached down to touch myself through my panties. And I watched intently as Robert pulled his penis out for view. It was the largest penis I had seen, thickly veined, with a well defined head and a slight purple tint. I was estimating it was 7 ½ to 8 inches, and was thick; thicker than the vibrator that I had in my night stand, which was the largest item to work its way into my pussy up to that point and time.

I continued to massage my clitoris with tiny circles was I watched Robert stroke himself with increasing speed. I was on the verge of climax, but something was stopping me from crossing the line to orgasm.

Our breathing began to synchronize and became faster, deeper and more labored. I could tell Robert was approaching orgasm and I could not stop myself from wanting to witness it and experience my son’s climax. His loins stiffened, his pace quickened and he began to ejaculate long thick strings of semen shot up and landed on his abdomen and lower chest. I was amazed at the strength, volume and distance of his ejaculate. There were at least four very large spurts and the semen covered his belly and chest with a gooey mess; the fragrance of the semen filled my nostrils. I had never been so stimulated in my life, yet I could not reach and orgasm.

As Robert lay back panting and sated, I got up, said “don’t move, I will clean this up.” I went to the bathroom to get a wash rag and soak it in warm water and returned. His penis had started to grow soft. Sitting down on the couch nest to him, I leaned over and began to wipe the semen from his chest and belly. The sweet scent of the semen continued to excite me. Robert simply lay back closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the wash cloth. And then I took his semi-flaccid in one hand and wiped it with the warm wash cloth. It immediately began to stiffen in my hand. Instinctively, not really thinking about the morality or ramifications of my actions, I continued to gently massage his penis as it grew hard. The experience was surreal, and almost dream like. I really did not feel that I was on control of my actions, but rather a player in a scripted play.

“Is this OK?” I asked as I stroked him back to erection.

“Oh, yes.” he moaned appreciatively, arching his hips slightly with each gentle stroke. I knew this was crossing yet another barrier that should not be crossed, but the sight and scents of the scene had me intoxicated with lust. I was wet, aroused and not thinking clearly at all. Robert leaned forward and ran his hand up my inner thigh. I froze. I did not intend to have him touch me or for this to go any further. I had not intended for this to go as far as it already had. I tensed up momentarily, keeping me thighs pressed together, denying my son access to me gushing pussy.

Robert merely said, “relax. I just want to touch you for a moment. I just want to feel your excitement.” As he gently separated my legs and his fingers gently explored the gusset of my very damp, almost soaked panties. As I relented I reasoned, 'how can I deny Robert touching me while I am touching him?' I knew I should not have been allowing any of this, but we were past the point of making the right decision now; and I clearly did not have the will, strength or desire to release his beautiful hard-on and leave this moment.

Robert’s touch on my clitoris, separated from his fingers by only a think piece of fabric was electric, a slight moan escaped me, revealing how much I enjoyed, and needed his touch. It had been over 5 months since I had been with a man; and the last man with whom I had achieved and orgasm, in fact the only man with whom I had ever achieved and orgasm was Robert’s father before the divorce, three years ago.

Robert quickly found my erect clit and massaged it in a gentle but arousing manner that had me rocking my hips and moaning as I pumped his penis in my fist. He then pulled aside the leg of my panties so he could access the opening of my vagina freely. I was so wet, so aroused, and so open, that Robert had no trouble locating my opening, and inserting two fingers deep inside me. And as his fingers entered me, Robert got up from the seat next to me, and moved to a kneeling position in front of me. I released his penis as he did, and watched as it arched straight up on its own. Kneeling in front of me, Robert’s index and middle fingers were buried deep in me; his knuckles stimulated my clit while the tips of his fingers were teasing the front wall of my vagina, my g-spot. Robert knew just how to touch me.

As I clutched the couch pillow next to me in a state of arousal I had never before known, I said “Robert, you have to stop this, you are going to make me cum.”; but I made no physical effort to stop what was happening. “Please, baby, stop; I am going to cum.” I begged again. But he did not stop. No, instead, he leaned forward and placed my engorged clit in his mouth, sucking it gently.

I completely lost it. Then it started the biggest, most intense and longest orgasm of my life. I bucked my hips wildly, holding the sides and back of Robert's head in place as he sucked my clit, pressing myself forward to push his fingers as deeply inside me as they could reach. Roberts sucking became more intense, almost violent; his fingers aggressively attacking the front wall of my vagina. He spread his fingers apart as he pulled them out and plunged them forward violently, stretching my pussy open. Wave upon wave of pleasure rocked across my body, my abdomen was convulsing. I was making completely incoherent sounds, almost talking in tongues so to speak. My sons was giving me my first multiple orgasm of my life, and he continue to stimulate me, not allowing me to come down from my peak. He kept me at the peak until my belly hurt and I truly needed to stop; but could not stop cuming until he released his hold on me.

Finally, I pushed his head back, breaking the suction his lips and tongue had on my clit and panted, “please baby, please,you need to let me stop, you need to let me down.”

He smiled proudly, very pleased that his efforts had produced such a profound result. He removed his fingers from my uterine walls and sat on the couch next to me; his erect penis still straining towards the ceiling.