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That Day With My Son

A naughty mother gives her jealous son a farewell.

This was the moment that started it all. Here I was sitting on a stool in my kitchen. I was modestly dressed—tennis shoes, black leggings, little pink tank top cropped up high, no bra. This freckle-faced young man named Eric stood between my legs with his hands gently on my waist. I held his face in my hands. I kissed him slowly. Then I opened my lips and waited to see how he’d kiss me back. His tongue came in too fast, too desperately, but I welcomed him in. His hands were getting bold, rubbing on the bare skin of my lower back. I let out a surprised moan and that seemed to spur him on. But that beast of a tongue kept digging around. I wanted to tell him there’s no G spot in the mouth. Just kiss me. When we stopped, he pulled away, his mouth still open, breathing hard, wanting more. Oh, how he wanted me. That horny look on his face was cute. I wanted to indulge him.

But we were in the middle of a game. I laughed a little. The boys—Eric, Billy, Taveon and Jamie skulking in the corner—waited to hear what I’d say. I thought about it a little, just to keep them in suspense. And then I said, “Six.”

They laughed. They groaned. They teased him. “Only a six, dude?” Billy said. He had gotten a seven.

“Okay, okay. My turn,” said Taveon.

Eric reluctantly moved away from the comfort of my thighs. Taveon stepped up to the plate. He positioned himself between my legs.

“Ready?” I said.

“Oh, I’m ready,” he said, cocky. “I hope you’re ready, Mrs. Brandt.” They laughed at him. He was always overconfident. “I’mma win this contest.”

He looked over at Jamie. He did so just a bit nervously. Probably the first time I ever saw Taveon a little nervous. He and the boys grew up with Jamie. I’ve known them a long time. They’d come over sometimes. Eric’s eyes always went to my hips and my ass. I’d wear low cut shirts just to drive Billy crazy with the visage of cleavage. Taveon liked to flirt with me when Jamie wasn’t around. And although I’m pretty sure they’ve discussed me and my flirtatiousness or perhaps even my body, they probably held back what they really wanted to say since Jamie was my son.

Jamie was quiet by the counter, but he didn’t say anything. And it was his suggestion (albeit sarcastic) that we have this kissing contest. So Taveon turned back to me. I spread my knees wider to let him in. He put his hands on my thighs as he inched closer. And that sweet horny look on his face. Oh, I loved it. His hands brushed past my breasts on its way to my face where he took it and pulled me gently towards him. His head cocked to the side as his lips seemed to open in slow motion, his tongue slowly extending towards me. That’s all I saw before I closed my eyes.

My hands were on his bare chest. His shirt was wide open as usual. I had my hands and pink fingernails on his dark skin. His fingers were going through my hair. He was pulling on my hair a little. I had an urge to grab his waist and pull him closer into me. I ordered my hands to behave. But my tongue had no inhibitions as I drank in his tongue. He kissed me, deliciously. When he was done and started to move away, there was still some saliva connecting our mouths. He grinned at me with a victorious look and bit his lower lip. I smiled, staring back at him, and wiped the saliva from my chin. He nodded and waited. I made a show of thinking about it. Then I threw my hands up. “Nine!”

“Yeah,” Taveon screamed out before giving me a quick hug, pressing his chest purposely against mine. I stood up, laughing, slapping him on his stomach. He looked back at Eric to gloat. I patted him on the chest to calm him down a little, but he was still saying, “yeah.”

He pointed at Billy. Then he turned back to me, arm still around me. “See, I know what a bitch likes,” he added. That idiot.

A punch from Jamie sent him crashing into the screen of the back door. I yelled my son’s name. Eric cursed and ran over to help Taveon. Jamie stormed out of the house. That fun was over.

Jamie came back at dinner time. My daughter Sarah was with us. She was the only one talking. She babbled on about her friends and who they were dating and who they wanted to date. She talked about her classes. She talked about Jamie being “so, so, so, so, so lucky” to be going away for college. Jamie chimed in that yes, he couldn’t wait to leave for college. I gave him a look and he continued eating. Sarah looked at us, perhaps sensing a little tension. Jamie got quiet again. I asked her about the boy she was seeing who was “so, so, so cute” and that got her going again.

Later that night, I decided to apologize to him. I don’t know why. I’ve seen his pornos. But the kissing contest hurt him and I wanted to make it right. After I shower, I usually stay in my comfy robe and have some hot tea. I made enough for two this time. He wasn’t in his room. He was in the living room watching TV. When he saw me, he stood up, as if to leave.

“Don’t go,” I implored him. “Talk to me.”

He stood there quietly, a look of pain on his face.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But it was your idea!”

Oh, why did I say that? Eric and Taveon had been bragging about how each gave me a better hug when they came in and Jamie, wanting them to stop, said, “What’s next? Who can kiss her better? What the fuck?” And I was the one who said okay.

“Yeah,” he said, making a face. He was about to walk out when I grabbed his arm. He finally looked at me. Was that a tear in his eye? I pulled him to me, walking him back to the sofa. Instead, he sat on the armrest, still looking at me with what I thought was maybe anger, disappointment, disgust? I didn’t know.

“You know how childish I can get sometimes,” I told him. He scoffed at that. I pretended to be offended that he agreed and gave him a little slap on the shoulder, keeping my hand on his shoulder.

“Sometimes you’re just bad, mother,” he said.

“I can’t help it.”

I touched his neck. His face. Stared into his anguished eyes. Moved my face closer to his. He blinked, a little confused. And I gave him such a sympathetic look, the kind I used to give him when he was confessing to something he did bad. I gave his lips a peck. His eyes had closed for a second. I kissed him again. His arms were around my waist now. I gave him a proud look and three pecks quickly and playfully.

“Honey,” I whispered into his ear as his hands began to roam around the thick fabric of my robe. My breasts were by his neck. I moved them closer to him. I guided his head and buried his face into me. The strap of my robe fell. My robe was opening. My silk panties were exposed. His hands were headed towards them. I held him back to let my robe open further. There. Now my breasts were out, too, and he was staring into them. He was breathing hard.

And the poor dear still had some tears in his eyes. There were so many things I wanted to do to him. But I just opened my arms and waited. He reached inside my robe to touch my bare skin and buried his face once again into the boobs that used to feed him. He kissed them. He nibbled on them. He devoured my nipples. He grabbed them with his strong hands. My little boy wasn’t a little boy anymore. He grabbed me and pulled me to him. I was grinding my body into his now. And those hands were tugging at my panties. I could feel him grab a handful of silk into his fist with such gentle strength. And as he slipped them down I cooed into his ear and whispered his name. He yanked me close and slammed his lips into mine. I put my hands on his shoulders to temper him. He relaxed into my mouth. Our tongues danced and twirled around each other and we were locked for God knows how long in a kiss that was so passionate, so fun, so wrong. When I pulled away, I gave him a cutesy look. And I scored him a, “Ten.”

His hands let me go. It was supposed to be a joke but he didn’t laugh. I sighed. That angry look was back. Whoops.

But then we heard, “What are you guys doing?”

I could feel him about to jump up but I held him down. An overreaction would just be admitting to a crime. I held his head to me. He pulled my robe back together as I turned to my daughter standing by the doorway.

“Sarah? Oh, I’m just, we’re just, I’m comforting him. He’s sad. Sad about leaving for college.”

Jamie looked up at his sister and nodded and shrugged, leaning his head back on me.

“You are?” she said. “I’d be happy as fuck.”

“Watch your language,” I said. “He’s still leaving home. Leaving you and the dog and his friends and, and his mother…”

“I guess.” She shrugged and turned to leave.

“Good night, Sarah.”

She was finally gone. I turned back to him but he seemed to be pulling out of our embrace. No, no, no. I wanted him some more. I wanted to know what he’s been doing with those girls on Saturday nights. I wanted to see how much he had grown. Plus, I was horny. Horny and selfish and wanted him all night long. I tried bringing him back to warmth of my bosom, but he was getting up.

“I liked kissing Eric,” I said, knowing it would bother him. “And Billy.”

He looked away and frowned. I giggled a little. “And Taveon.” I turned away from him, opening my robe again and touching myself as I walked away very slowly.

I know Jamie. I know how he can be. And sure enough, I felt his strong arms come and wrap themselves around me. I held his arms as I felt his lips come barreling onto my neck and my back, into my hair. I reached behind him and grabbed his head, pulling him into me. He seemed a little angry but he was still coming at me. He turned me around with force and I gasped in surprise before he kissed me. I touched his chest and worked my hands down, down, down to his…

Oh my God.

My son’s cock was now in my hands. So many years I washed his little peek-a-boo before showing him how to do it himself. My, my, how he’s grown! And growing a few inches more right there in my hand.

I looked up at him, lovingly, proudly, longingly, rubbing that cock in my hands. Now using two hands to hold it and stroke it and caress it. And hold his balls. He was breathing hard again. I smiled into his eyes and kept my eyes on him as I retreated down to the floor, pulling his pants down as I went. He looked so confused, a mix of lust and anguish, like he didn’t know whether to tell me to stop or keep going. So I kept going. And I licked that cock from tip to balls and back to tip, a streak of saliva marking the path, before taking it all into my mouth.

A gasp and a groan escaped him. I looked up and put a finger to my mouth, telling him, “sh!” He liked that and finally smiled at me, resting his hand on my head. Back into my mouth, his prick went where I sucked some more.

My sweet boy led me around to the couch and pushed me onto it, my robe, my arms and my legs spread open as he touched and fondled me. He slid my panties under me and pulled them off. He removed his pants and boxers from around his ankles.

His hand lay on my pussy and it tingled. He wasn’t even doing anything and I was squirming. Then he dipped a finger in. Yes. And deeper. Ooh. Feeling me inside, spreading me open. Oh, no, the couch. I’ll have to clean it early tomorrow. Fuck it. I was so wet. He kissed my pussy and I held his head there for a while. And Jesus, how he worked his tongue in my pussy! Who taught him this? I squirmed while he licked me into an orgasmic frenzy. I covered my mouth to stop myself from yelling. I tried to push his head away as the pleasure was too much, too much, but he grabbed my hands and kept at me. My legs were all over the place, one draped over the headrest of the sofa. Some strange, guttural sounds were coming from me as I bounced and convulsed on the sofa as another orgasm hit me like a tidal wave. I was a contorted mess, pelvis this way, torso turned the other way, head thrown back and hanging. Until he released me and I dropped onto the floor with a thud, still shaking from yet another orgasm. He was still trying to finger me and I pushed his hand away.

But he wouldn’t have it. He spread me open right on the floor. He got between my legs. I was ready to sing “hallelujah” as that sweet cock drilled its way home. A dream come true. A long-held fantasy realized. My boy’s hot and hard manhood deeper and deeper inside the warmth of his mother’s pussy, connected in the last and ultimate way we could connect.

I used to be a screamer, but for fear of waking up Sarah I tried to keep quiet. He had to help me a little, covering my mouth when he saw I was about to yelp. And he fucked and fucked and fucked me till he collapsed on top of me. I held him. He had some juice left and he pumped it inside me while I caressed his hair.

We laid there, him slowly going limp, his cum dripping out of me, oops, his hand still on my breasts, his face buried in my hair. I could’ve laid there all night and would’ve fucked him again at dawn but for the fear of what Sarah would see in the morning.

He kissed me some more, his hand still caressing me as we lay there on the rug. Between kisses he said, “I’m going to miss you, Mrs. Brandt.”

I gave him a stern look. He grinned and tried to kiss me.

“Angela?” he said.

I pulled away to look at him, very disapprovingly. He chuckled while I stared at him angrily.

Then he relented and said in a sexy voice, “Mother.”

I smiled. “Better,” I said and let his tongue into my mouth again. As we got up, he told me I’d better behave while he was gone.

A few days later we saw him off to college.

I didn’t quite behave. His old friends would call me up sometimes. I’m horrible.

Over the next few weeks, Sarah was acting strange, talking back to me, not telling me about her little dramas like before. I checked her journal that she kept on her computer and didn’t see anything at first. Then I checked the date of that wonderful night I had with Jamie and saw this entry: “I think my mom and brother are fucking. Ewww.”

Ah, nuts.


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