She Made Me Fuck My Son by Lauren McAllister

She Made Me Fuck My Son!

It was the very best of times. Like getting out, after a long stay in rehab, and having that first drink!  My anything-but-prodigal son was returning to the humble nest (and I do mean humble) for the entire spring holidays. Jacob had been industriously toiling away at college for almost six months. This was his first year at Berkeley and I missed him more than that vibrator I shorted out in the bathtub. Since his father had scampered off with some big-titted pancake waitress and become a spinning instructor in Aspen (theoretically to work off all those free pancakes he’d been eating), we had become very close. Of course, in the microscopic two bedroom apartment I was forced to move into, I was very close to just about everything. If I took a deep breath, my ribcage would touch both walls.

            Since Jake had been off enlarging his brain to the size of a Chevron 76 sign, I’d gotten into the kind of habits that a person gets into when they live alone. Walking naked around the apartment, farting at will, bathing on a “need to do” basis and having prolonged wank sessions in my living room. I had developed a whole sophisticated, bordering on Daedalean, autoerotic ritual in his absence. A glass of wine, some porn I’d downloaded from the internet on my flatscreen and a pair of indefatigable fingers between my legs. I’d watch some amateur cuckold encounters or a few threesome videos and slowly sip my wine. That left my good hand free to play with my tits through the first few venereal vignettes. After my tender nipples had received a thorough and exhaustive mauling, I would slide on down to my buttery mound. Perhaps a top up on the wine before really digging in to the job at hand.

            Now, it was time for some spit-roasting or double penetrations while I brought myself slowly, but deliberately to my first orgasm. I so enjoyed wanking that I didn’t want it to be over too quickly. The more anxious I got for the cum monkeys to start screaming between my legs, the slower I tried to go. Of course, at some point you just lose all sense and reason and start beating on your clit like it’s your pancake-waitress-loving husband’s nutsack. By this point, the wine has been placed safely on a side table and my ring finger is up my ass as far as I can shove it before I explode. Then it is gloriously upon me. My spine tingles, my legs tense and my little twat hole clenches. I can feel my sphincter start to squeeze my knuckle and Bam!, this massive tsunami of sexual pleasure practically knocks me off the couch. All that waiting and holding back makes me feel like I’ve been love-punched in the cunt by Wladamir Klitschko. Good, holy God! My upper body is violently jerked forward over and over by these devastating contractions exploding like Firestone tires from clit to tits.

            Then, I just lie there for a much-needed recuperative minute or so with my hand dripping in my snatch honey. After that, I right myself and have a couple more of sips of wine. The soothing warmth of the silky red liquid as it trickles down my throat gets me more than sufficiently primed for another round of spirited self-abuse. This goes on till I run out of videos or pass out from the merlot. Not exactly a roll in the sack with Brad Pitt but it gave me something to look forward to during the long dreary day.

            That all changed, obviously, when Jake returned home and brought his new girlfriend with him. She must have been a relatively new girlfriend because, that whole first week, they fucked up a Jovian storm. It felt a little icky masturbating to the sound of them “going at it” but what choice did I have? Between the two of them, I was never alone long enough to whap out a ripe one and their grunts, moans and mattress murdering more than hid the sound of my own pathetic DIY sex acts.

            Not that I blame Jake for dipping his candle (even though the walls in my apartment are about the thickness of service station toilet paper). Sandra was an absolute stunner. He had really scored himself a honey. She had a pair of tits that even had me tingling a little between the legs (Okay I’ll admit it; there was a generous helping of girl-on-girl videos in my wine and wank catalogue). Besides her eye-popping bodily appurtenances, Sandy was also a sweet, sweet person. I was loving her company during the day, as much as my son was loving her company at night. She was always ready to lend a hand in my micro-dot of a kitchen. I really appreciated the help but I was feeling really guilty about how much I was enjoying my arm brushing up against her bodacious funbags while we were cooking (not that I tried to avoid it).

            By the third night, I was maniacally masturbating to the sound of Sandy’s moans and imagining that it was me causing them. Our kitchen collisions became more and more frequent. I had also begun to give her little pecks on the lips to thank her for helping out around the hovel. My unnuanced and totally inappropriate actions were quickly becoming the makings of farce. I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off my adorable little houseguest (hugs, quick shoulder massages, any excuse to touch that magnificent body).

            One morning (Jake was still asleep) Sandy was bent over, looking in the oven. She had this really short dress on and no underwear. The sight of her pert posterior must have short circuited my cerebral cortex because I unforgivably grabbed me a big handful of it.

            “Boy,” I sighed, giving it a good jiggle “I wish I had a nice ass like this one again.”

            Unimaginably, Sandra didn’t jump up and slap my face. In fact, she continued to let me brazenly knead her magnificent cheeks until I finally had the decency to stop.

            “Nonsense,” she smiled. “Pull down your pajamas and bend over.”

            She didn’t have to ask me twice. I had my jammies down around my knees before you could blink. Sandy gave it a delicate couple of taps and then dragged her palm over my shamelessly goose-bumped flesh. Every touch was sending humungous electrical charges shooting up my vaginal canal and setting my brain on fire.

            “This is in excellent shape. Reminds me a little of a cheerleader I had a thing with back in high school.” Then she gave it a playful slap (More please!). “We’d better stop shamelessly fondling each other and get his lordship’s breakfast ready. He’ll be out here any second looking for food.”

            The rest of the day, I was completely obsessed. Why did she tell me about that cheerleader in high school? Was it merely an innocent compliment about my butt or was she trying to tell me that also she liked girls? And even if she was bi – what did that mean? Only a batshit crazy horndog would consider banging her own son’s girlfriend. I needed therapy…or maybe an entire troupe of Chippendale’s dancers.

            The next morning (after a serious night of whapping to the memory of our mutual tush touching) I greeted her in my old pom pom outfit. Could I have been anymore fucking obvious (BLUSH!).

            “Guess what I found just sitting in a drawer,” I lied. It was in a storage locker in the basement of my apartment building. I had to brave rats and spiders, going through box after box to find it. “And it still fits!” This was almost true. I’d spent a good part of my evening letting out the waistband, but only by an inch or two.

            “Well, rah rah girl!”

            I was just about to lift the front of my pleated skirt and give her a little suggestive cheer when…

            “What the hell are you dressed up like that for?”

            Shit! Jake had woken up early for once. I covertly pulled down on front of my uniform so I didn’t accidentally give him and eyeful of my just-shaved vag.

            “Your mother and I were just goofing around,” Sandra replied, pulling out the frying pan. “Eggs?”

              The rest of my day was spent in misery, frustration and confusion. That night they didn’t have sex…which meant that I couldn’t have sex because they’d hear me. By the next morning, I could hardly get my jaw open, I was so horny. Perhaps a nice, long hot, wank-tastic shower would help calm me down.

            I was wrapped in a towel and just about to whip into the bathroom before everyone woke up when Sandra tapped me on the shoulder. I practically jumped out of my unsatisfied skin.

            “Sorry,” she giggled. “Listen, Jakey and I have to go out as soon as he wakes up. Would it be okay if I shared the shower with you?”

            “Share?!” Why that was way better than, “Can I take a quick shower first?”

            “Ah, sure,” I replied, trying to hide the fact that my vagina was veritably undulating at the prospect. “After all, we’re both girls.”

            Once inside my little bathroom, I dropped my towel and she whipped her t-shirt off the most perfect body I had ever seen. It was nigh on impossible not to just stand their and gape with my tongue hanging out. I quickly turned to start the water on to stop me from being so rude. When we stepped into that tiny tub together, I almost threw up on her, I was so nervous. Needless to say, not touching each other’s naked sudsy bodies in such a confined space was about as likely as finding an unopened beer bottle at Charlie Sheen’s house. If I’d have been a guy, I would have had the end of my dick stuck up my nose. I was psychotically aroused.

            After a particularly homoerotic collision of naughty bits during our cramped ablutions, she put her hand up between me legs and caressed the puffy outer lips of my swollen twat. “I think about you when your son is fucking me,” she sighed.

            Instead of being shocked and horrified, this absolutely rocked my Sapphic socks.

“And I think about you when my son is fucking you,” I sighed back.

The next thing I knew, I had my hands halfway up her ass, she was all over my tits and we were necking to beat the band.

            There was a knock at the door.

            “Are you going to be long? I have to piss.”

            Goddamn that stupid dipshit asshole!

            “We’ll be out in a second sweetie,” Sandra called out. She turned to me. “Listen, I’m going to leave our bedroom door open tonight. I want you to look in on us.”

            “What?”

            “Please, just do it. I so want to see you watching me get as I get fucked.”

            “But…”

            Sandra put her hand between my legs again and rubbed my clit up and down with her soapy finger. It was paralyzing. I almost went off like a stick of dykey dynamite. “If you do this for me tonight, maybe we can have a much longer shower tomorrow.”

            Knock! Knock!

            “We’re coming!” I yelled.

            “Mom? Are you in there too?”

            Shit!

            “Your mother’s having a shower while I get ready for our outing. Now, shut up or I’ll make you go pee down in the flower beds.

            Just like I was instructed, I crept out of my room about midnight. Their door was slightly ajar, like she said it would be. Despite all my completely valid apprehensions about this exceedingly inadvisable course of action, I violated just about every rule of motherhood and decency and peered in.  

            “What are we waiting for?” an anxious Jacob asked.

            “Nothing baby,” she cooed as she saw me in the doorway. “Now, you just lie back and let me taste that big hard cock of yours.”

            I hadn’t seen Jakie’s penis since he was about 7. It had grown some. Talk about having severe mixed feelings! Sandra looked directly into my eyes as she slowly licked up the length of his shaft and then put the end of my son’s knob into her mouth. And she kept right on looking at me as she bobbed her head up and down on it. Jake was moaning (I felt a little like moaning myself.) as she slurped and sucked away on his joint.  

            No matter how inappropriate the whole scene was, I was mesmerized. By the time he’d climbed on top of her, I had my hand down my pajama bottoms. Sandra positioned herself on the mattress so she could watch me masturbating while Jacob slammed his fuck-stick into her. The looks and gasps that she gave off as he avidly pumped her - the way her legs rapped around his ass, trying to pull his dick as far inside her as possible – It was all too much. I came like grenade went off in my cunt. I let out this gigantic fucking yelp and ended up doubled-over on the carpet with these massive spasms charging up from my pulsating pussy. I could hardly to breathe from the intensity of the torso contractions. I had girlie squirted everywhere and was lying in a puddle of my own cum juice. Very attractive. That’s when I heard a familiar voice.

            “MOM!?”

            YIKES!

            “It’s okay baby. Let me handle everything,” I heard Sandra say. I was too afraid to look up and face my indescribably ignominy, so I just remained a big soggy blob on the carpet. “She’s just lonely. You don’t want her to be lonely, do you? She’s your mother.”

            “She was watching us do it, for Christ Sakes!”

            “Everything is fine. She just wants to watch. You like to watch people fucking. We do it all the time on the internet and in the dorm.”

            “But…”

            “Come in here Sharon,” I heard her say. I forced myself to look up.

            “Come sit beside us on the bed,” she beckoned. What exactly was the plan here? She started to stroke Jake’s cock, probably to keep him from thinking clearly. “You can watch us all you want.”

            I knew that last thing I should be doing was walking in that room but I did it anyway.

            “Why don’t you take of those pajamas. They’re all wet.”

            Cripes! Now I was naked in front of my son. And vise versa of course.

            I sat on the edge of the bed and Jakie and I just weirdly looked each others genitals as Sandra started to suck on him again. The lighting was such that you could see every minor detail of the prurient and slobbery proceedings. She teased his balls unmercifully while she pushed his cock further and further into the back of her throat. As freaked out as Jakie was, the incredible blowjob was calming him down immensely. Hey, he was my son, but he was still a guy.

            “Watch how his delicious dick slides inside me,” Sandra smiled as she pulled my boy’s knob back and forth between her thoroughly engorged vulva. She was now lying on her back and spread wide. Jesus, what a delicate and stunning pussy she had. It was all I could do not to push Jacob aside and dive in there face-first. As the tip of his schlong vanished into her hungry opening, I felt a “touch me!” twinge ripple up from my cock cave. I was so aroused, I thought I might spontaneously combust. Sandy kept leaking out these deep lusty sighs but never took her eyes off me watching her. Jake was raised up on his arms, enabling me to ogle his glistening shaft thundering in and out of her tumescent twat. Her plump lips squished and stretched with each thrust and withdrawal. My right hand drifted nervously down between my legs.

            “Don’t be afraid to play with yourself,” Sandy whispered sexily as she put her hand on my upper thigh.

            I really didn’t need any more encouragement than that. I was all over myself in seconds. Jacob and Sandra were now both intently watching me whap my wallet while they fucked each other. I didn’t hold back. I was smacking my slit silly and the harder I wanked it, the harder they fucked.

            Boom! My cunt clenched into a singularity. It felt like someone was shooting me repeatedly in the stomach with a gigantic cum-gun. The contractions were absolutely gut-ripping. My eyes were blurry, my twat was spraying the entire mattress and my clit felt like it had swollen to the size of a barstool.

            By now, the loving couple were thrashing around and making noises like demented zoo monkeys. Jake suddenly pulled his doowanger out of Sandra’s bright red pussy and started whacking on it. Sandy quickly scooched down, just in time for him to empty a giant load into her mouth. She pumped on his nutsack with her hand to drain every last molecule of his seed out of him. When he’d dropped off her, she rose up and gave me a huge soul kiss, bathing my lips and tongue in my own son’s sperm. Shamefully, I just kept on kissing her and ingesting some of his semen in the process. This girl was pure evil – but I loved her for it.

            Somehow, Sandra convinced me to lie down with them. I mean, I was still naked for crying out loud…we all were. And there we lay, disgraced and debased me on one side, Sandra on the other and a very nervous Jakie in the middle. My tits were pressed up against his arm but I kept my pudding cup well away from his thigh. Well, you have to draw the line somewhere.

            Reaching over to hold my hand, Sandy started to nibble at his neck. They started into some major mouth maneuvers as my arm was pulled onto my son’s stomach. After a few seconds, I felt myself being very slowly pushed downwards. Initially, I tried to pull back but she dug her nails gently but meaningfully into the back of my hand so I stopped resisting and let her drag me to my incestuous shame.

            Jake’s penis was semi-soft and slippery, still coated in Sandra’s sweet cunt honey. The feel of his cock in my hand was intoxicating. I squished it and rolled it around in my hand and caressed his dewy balls (With the encouragement of Sandy, of course.). Gradually, it began to grow in my palm. Its increasing hardness sent forbidden shivers throughout my entire body. I refused to even look at the horrible thing I was doing until I felt Sandra’s cheek touch the side of my chugging fist. She was sucking on the end of his knob, while I rosined up his shaft. Jakie just lay there – probably worrying that if he moved, I’d come to my you-don’t-jerk-off-your-own-son senses and hightail it out of the room. Alas, I did not. Sandy pulled my head towards her and I willingly went. She plucked his joint out of her mouth and rubbed it across my lips. The next thing I knew, I was bobbing up and down on his Johnson while Sandra licked his nuts and scrotum. I could taste her vaginal dew on his shaft and the residue salty cum leaking out of the tip. The multiple questionable flavors and the hardness of his dick and the Oedipal horror of my actions had set my undulating pussy on fire. I hadn’t been this turned on since I got spit-roasted by my math teacher and his wife in high school. We traded his cock back and forth, sometimes soul kissing each other with the head of his penis in both our mouths at once. Sandy also had her other hand busy twiddling my twat to keep me as hot as a pizza oven while all of this absolutely filthy and unforgivable fellatio was transpiring.

            I lay on my back with my legs spread open, fully exposing every tiny detail of my genitals. The experience was stomach turning. Jakie had his big hard-on in his palm and was rubbing it up and down my vulva, and pressing the glans against my hole. It was obvious that neither of us wanted to do this foul thing but Sandra just kept egging us on. Telling us what to do. I watched in horror as the head disappeared inside me. He flopped down on top of me and stuck his tongue in my mouth. We kissed deeply, both trying to take our minds of the fact that inch by inch; his cock was pushing its way up my vaginal canal. When I had been penetrated right up to the hilt, he paused, not wanting to continue. I placed my put my fingers gently on his temple to comfort him.

            “That’s all right baby, you can do this. Just start fucking me. As soon as you put your spunk inside me, we can stop.” I started to slowly grind my pussy up and back, encouraging him to start humping. “Play with my tits sweetie; they’ll help get you in the mood.”

            Eventually, he started to wanly move his pelvis. I wrapped my legs around him and met his every thrust, moaning like he was giving me the balling of a lifetime. Jake rose up on his arms as his pud-pounding increase in intensity and enthusiasm. I glanced down and could see he cock pistoning in and out of me and his balls bouncing off the inside of my thighs. Yikes! The first per-cum twinges started to spark about my clit. We looked deep and apologetically into each other’s eyes as the climactic surges grew between our legs. I could feel my cunt clench around his swollen cock. Lord forgive me I was about to climax!

            Jacob emitted an enormous grunt as his familial spew splurted out of him and drenched my inner most reaches. He was jamming me really hard now, pushing every microscopic glob of his mung inside me. This set off an orgasmic eruption that almost knocked my teeth out. I was practically ripped apart by spasms so powerful, I almost fainted. Thrashing and writhing about underneath him, I was simply too overcome by cum bombs exploding throughout my torso to care. I grabbed his ass and milked every last clitoral throb out of him, grinding my pussy against his now deflating member. When my body finally stopped quivering, the shame set back in big time.

            Jacob went limp on top of me with his face buried in the pillow. I don’t think he could bear to look at me. Sandra began to stroke his back and then leaned over to kiss me full on the mouth.

            “You were great,” she sighed. “I came three times just watching you two.”

            Jakie and I just lay there nakedly awkward and feeling defiled and dirty for what seemed like forever before I fell asleep. Waking up in the morning and facing my inexplicable actions was positively horrific.

            When Jake fucked me on the couch that afternoon, I didn’t want to cum (I just wanted lie there until the ordeal was over) but I did anyway. Wow, did I ever! Over the next few days, Sandra forced us to perform the most lewd and obscene actions imaginable. I actually preferred it when we were made to do it doggie style because then I didn’t have to look him straight in the eyes at the exact moment he was filling up my cunt up with his salty seed (and yes, I had tasted it many times by then). If I’d been very good that day, Sandra would let me eat her out while Jacob finished up his business in back of me.

            After every sexual encounter, we would just lie there in embarrassed silence waiting for Sandy to tell us what to do next. I mean, what do you say to your own son after he’s just finished cumming up your ass?

            I can’t say that I was sorry to see them go back to school. I was so traumatized and sickened by the whole seedy, contemptible affair, it took me several weeks before I could even masturbate again.

            I’m still in contact with Sandra (though I don’t talk to Jacob much anymore). I send her the odd naked picture of me on my phone. In fact she texted me just the other day. She says she’s dying to meet my daughter, when Debbie gets back from Europe next month.

           

If you like the writing, please check out more of my work at the site below.

http://www.caffieri.com/#XXX 

Young Cock Rocks by Lauren McAllister

Young Cock Rocks

Or

Well Hung and Young

           

To tell you the truth, I was boiling mad at my husband. It was pretty shitty having to turn 36 in the first place, but having to do it on my own because Mr. Dickwad felt it was more important to sit in a cold tiny room and blow the heads off some ducks…well, let’s just say that Jimmy did not get a “have-a-great-trip hump.” And…I splurted a whole dispenser of mustard into his waders. And I undercooked his eggs that morning so he’d feel nauseous on the long car ride. I also hid a card among his luggage saying, “I hope a duck flies up your ass and the assholes you’re with shoot it.”  Yep, I was pretty steamed at the little shit.

My friend Amy decided to throw me a party to pick up my spirits. It worked. The second I got there, I was picking up spirits right and left and swallowing them at a rate that would have had Lindsay Lohan counseling moderation. The get-together was okay, I guess. I managed to successfully drown my sorrows and several of my vital organs. There were quite a few people I didn’t know milling about but I was so slobbering drunk by then end of the first hour that getting to acquainted any of them was beyond impossible. Although, there was apparently one exception.

The next morning, predictably, was epically hellacious. I was somewhat philosophical about my dire (about to turn diarrhea) situation, as I lay and moaned like a cow stuck in a mudpit. Hey, let’s face it; I had earned every micron of digestive misery and every diamond-tipped chisel-blow of excruciating agony to my temples. I was now officially 36 but I felt older than David Bowie when Catherine Deneuve nailed him into that coffin in “The Hunger” (I’ve got a thing for Lesbian-themed movies and I really, really want to fuck Susan Sarandon before I die.). The whole room was spinning. I felt like I was going to see Margaret Hamilton riding by on a bicycle at any second. That’s when Jimmy put his hand on my ass and started to rub it gently. What a world-class fucking jerk! Didn’t he realize what kind of catastrophic, self-inflicted distress I was in? At that pivotal moment, he had a way better chance of getting thrown up on than getting laid. In fact, I could feel my first big heave session coming on. Why not, I thought (as much as I was capable of thought). This will teach the fucker a lesson, leaving me alone on my birthday.

I had already turned before I put two and two together and realized that there was no way that Mr. Inconsiderate Ass-Feeler could have been Jimmy.

“BLECHHHHHHHH!” I suggested. Massive swells of salty party food and cheap wine erupted out of me and onto some poor naked guy lying next to me. I was horrified beyond belief but I just couldn’t stop throwing up on him.

“I wam so sowwy.” I tried to talk but it felt like Satan had taken a gigantic hell-shit in my mouth. Focusing was difficult as my eyes were pissing all over my cheeks but it sure looked like I was sharing my bed with a vomit-covered twelve year old. Oh my God, I’m a baby raper!!!!

“How old are you?” I half-blubbered, dreading the answer and reaching down to see if I had pissed the bed.

“I told you last night, Steph, don’t you remember. I’m 17.”

Fuck! Well, at least he was legal. Not that whatever I’d gotten up to the night before was in any way excusable. What had we gotten up to the night before? Before I could formally posit that question, I upchucked up again.

“Did we have sex?” I forced myself to ask between violent retchings. Sam was so sweet. He cleaned my face with a wet towel that he’d fetched from the bathroom.

“You were amazing,” he kindly lied, wiping a particularly nasty chunk of something off my tits.

“I fear I may have had a little too much to drink last night,” I unnecessarily informed him.

“I got up about an hour ago and started the coffee machine. Would you like some?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea about me, but I would blow you for a cup of coffee right now. No! That’s a joke, I mean, I probably have blown you….Oh God, this is the worst birthday of my life.”

While I selfishly wallowed in a big icky pool of self-pity and recycled foodstuffs, Sammy gallantly scurried off and fetched the carafe and a couple of mugs from downstairs. I spent the next hour curled up in fetal position, warming my dyspeptic cheek with the rich dark liquid I was still to sick to taste. Sam removed all the Technicolor sheets off the mattress and put new bedding down while I lay there groaned like I’d been impaled on a garden gnome. Of the two of us, he had the better job.

I was literally helpless. If I stood up, I became demonically dizzy. Sam had to carry me into the bathroom and I (GASP!) had to do No. 2 in front of him (though it sure felt like there was a lot of No. 1 in there as it blasted out of me at seemingly fire-hose velocity). I couldn’t even wipe my own ass! Damned alcohol had turned me into a plague victim. Several times, I begged this stranger-turned-nursemaid to leave me to my limitless suffering and imminent death (there are certain things that a girl never wants a man to see her do – and I was doing just about all of them) but I really wanted him to stay.

Plus, I had three more scorching trips to “the bowl” in rapid succession, and someone had to clean up my messy patoot. He even let me curl up next to him on the bed, knowing that there was every possibility that I would once again turn Vesuvian with nary a second’s notice. “I swear I will make this up to you,” I gurgled at about 2:30 in the afternoon, giving his almost bald nutsack (from youth, not shaving) a gentle squeeze.

The very next moment it was about 7 o’clock at night. I opened my bleary eyes to plain toast and a new pot of coffee on a tray.

“Are you an angel sent from heaven?” I only half-jokingly queried.

“You should try and eat something,” he kindly smiled.

“I’m so sorry I made you watch me poop,” I moaned, “I’m not usually like this with strangers.”

He took off his pants and crawled into bed next to me. Now that I could see more clearly, he looked even younger than I’d originally thought. On the upside, this was the first time I was well enough to register the size of his cock. The boy was packin’!

I felt like a complete perv, snuggling up to this teenager (I had bras older than this kid), but it was just so comforting to have him there. About 8, we watched a movie he had on his I-pad. It had this guy in it who could open jars of peanut butter with his mind and he got onto a rocket ship and I’m not really sure what happened after that because I fell asleep again.

When I woke in the morning, he was still snoozing. God, I felt better. Life in all it’s multifaceted glory had returned to my formerly disease-infested puking flesh-lump. My head still hurt a little, but all things considered, I was back to my old self. Sammy looked so cute lying there. All that young, perfect skin. I pulled back the covers very carefully so I could have another look at that dick of his. Yum. It was definitely very munchable.

Of course, there are those nagging little thoughts that go through your head as your about to despoil the young. He was a mere child and I was a married woman of three dozen years with sagging 36 year-old boobs, for Christsakes. What would I think if I was his mother and some other wicked vixen was about to sully him? I put his cock in my mouth and tried not to think about it. Yikes he was 17; it shot up like the knife out of a switchblade. What do you know, I liked sucking young cock! It was hard and smooth and “squirt”. A huge helping of teenage-boy semen coated my uvula before I’d even gotten started. Ah yes, I remembered this part now. I was getting high school-prom flashbacks.

“Wow, that was even better than in your friend’s closet,” he thanked me.

Oh my God! I blew this virtual fetus in Katie’s closet? I had some serious apologizing to do on Monday morning.

I patted his nuts and made a big show of swallowing his offering. “I’m going to make you some breakfast, young man. You just lay her and refill this thing and I’ll be right back for another helping.”

I don’t know what got over me. I was practically dripping as I whipped up some eggs and whatever else I could find in my depleted cupboards. Having this cherubic coital neophyte in my bed had turned me into a sex-crazed loony cock-whore. I took a few minutes to shave anything that was beginning to darken on my body and then I trotted back up stair with the grub.

“Don’t worry mom, I’m just staying over at a friend’s house. I’ll be home for dinner.”

Shit, my little boy was talking to his mother on the phone! I couldn’t help it; I had to instantly give him head. It was so totally wrong of me; I practically had an orgasm as the purple knobby bit of his goo cannon hit the back of my throat. “Just keep saying the word ‘mom,’” I prayed. Slurp. Slurp. Each time he did, little pre-cum spasms would shoot up into my wicked womb. I signaled for him to keep talking to her as I straddled his thighs.

“Yeah, I’ll cut the lawn tomorrow…”

I grabbed his shaft in my fist and rubbed the end of his cock up and down and across my pussy lips. The conversation with his dear mother got a little stilted after that. I put a small piece of toast into his mouth as I allowed inch after inch of that magnificent phallic edifice to slowly penetrate my inner sanctum. His face went the color of an old Columbia Records label as I ground my twat against the hilt of his wanger. So, I was fucking him, feeding him and listening to him talk to his mother. What an unholy combo! It made me so wet; I was practically a human canteen. The first moan seeped out of me.

“That? That’s just Gordie playing with his dog.”

He was an amazingly good liar, considering how hard it must have been for him to think at that moment (men just seem to be born with that ability, don’t they?). I was also beginning to lose a major portion of my cognitive function as I cranked up the speed and intensity of my pelvic thrusts. His complimentary helpings of hot-buttered toast had also abated somewhat.

Sammy was so much bigger than my husband (and so much younger) that I was in complete copulatory heaven. I could feel his thighs tightening between my legs but that was okay because mine were right there with him. My twat grotto began to squeeze tightly around the stem of his Johnson and I was starting to make noises like an idling 1987 Ford Torino.

“Listen, I got to go. Love you,” Sammy choked out.

He’d barely turned off his cell when we both started to cum like psychotic zoo monkeys. Screeches and moans filled the room as massive orgasmic explosions shot up my convulsing torso along with about a gallon of his baby jam. He grabbed hold of my tits and nearly ripped them off – but I kind of liked it at that moment. My clit was throbbing like a be-hammered cartoon thumb. Sammy was smashing his cock inside me like he was trying to kill a cunt troll (in reality, only very old Romanian women have those). Finally, I fell forward and shoved my tongue in his mouth as I drifted into my post-climactic glow. This was our first soul kiss – well the first I remember. His lips were so soft – almost like a girl’s (but there was nothing else girly about him…well, except for that tight little pink ass of his. It was so cute; I almost wished I had a big dong so I could sodomize it!)

We spent the next hour or so smooching and groping and then he fucked me two more times. God bless them younguns! I let him slide on top of me for the last one. I figured by the third ride, his trigger would have less of a hair to it and it was safe to let him hump away at his own pace. He didn’t disappoint. I came like a pirate cannon going off. I soaked the bed with a majestic spray of lap liquids as wave after wave of teeth-shattering sensual-seizures tore through my abdomen. At one point, I caught myself reaching down and trying to pull his big floppity nuts up into my uterus. What a trollop! If my legs were any wider apart, I would have had to open the windows.

After you’ve had a 40 year old guy banging away inside you for an extended period of time, a 17 year old is a revelation! The fact that Sammy remained really geeky and polite as he poured his sour cream into my baked potato was so hot it just set my hair on fire. And at that tender age, dicks are quickly rechargeable!

After I became too sore to pee, he was finally allowed to go home to mommy and that lawn he needed to cut. I spend the rest of the day gently dabbing ointments on my vulva and hoping to heal before Elmer Fudd came home expecting a fuck for some ducks (and I’m the one who had to cook the little grease-turds, yuck).

I have hired dear, sweet, well-hung Sam to mow my lawn on Saturday and Sunday and I have absolutely no complaints about his work around my garden. Next weekend he’s going to bring his even taller friend over so they can work at different ends of my property at the same time. Yummy!

As for Jimmy, I bought him a new set of hunting fatigues plus fishing equipment, a new set of golf clubs, hiking boots and mountain climbing lessons. After-all, it’s important for a man his age to stay active…ain’t it?

If you like the writing, please check out more of my work at the site below.

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My Son Got Into Brown...And Me! by Lauren McAllister

My Son Got Into Brown…and Me!

            I was so happy when Jimmy got into Brown, I could barely contain myself. And then when I saw how much it was going to cost, I could barely contain my bowels. Jesus Christ, who knew that having brainiac offspring could be so expensive? Still, if I gave up eating expensive foods like…food, I figured I might be able to swing it.

            Jimmy offered to work for a year or two to help pay for his tuition, but I wouldn’t hear of it. He’d spent all of high school locked away in his room studying his head off to get into a good college. The poor schlub never had a girlfriend or even a date. I can only assume that he was wanking himself cross-eyed like I was every night. Our Kleenex bill was rather high, as I recall.

            Something special needed to be done to commemorate this amazing feat of the superior brain. Talk about unprecedented. The closest any of my family had previously gotten to a college career was Aunt Dottie. She spent a drunken weekend in 1978 giving oral sex to most of the North Carolina Tar Heels while on vacation. You have to watch out for those change rooms, she got a terrible case of athlete’s knee.

            My problem was finding the bucks to treat this uber intelligent fruit of my loins to something memorable before he wandered off to the wonderful world of academe and I never saw him again. Florida was out. Sunny Cal was out. Too damned expensive! I didn’t really have the heart to take him to Yosemite or Yellowstone. Who wants to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with your mother? What I required was an affordable location that had a ton of young women lying around half-naked and completely drunk. Jacob needed to become acquainted with those strange-but-enjoyable bumpy creatures and pronto. Giving a load to your palm every night maybe okay in high school but I knew that if he missed out on the plethora of puss in college, he would regret it for the rest of his life. (That is one thing my family has plenty of experience at: regretting things for the rest of our lives.)

            I spent about a month feverishly tapping away on Expedia and Trivago, trying to find the cheapest beach resort in the known universe for us to spend a week or so at. The major economic encumbrance with most of these thrifty destinations is that you could buy Bill Gates’ left nut for what it costs you to fly there. So, I had two requirements. This “paradise” had to be procured for nickels and being able to drive to it in my rusty clunker was an absolute imperative. Eventually I came upon a little Bed and Desayuno in a Mexican seaside hamlet that had yet to be overrun by the drug cartels.

            I think Jimmy was excited about going, but he’s a very polite young man and perhaps he just didn’t want to break his impoverished mother’s well-intentioned heart. Regardless of his actual feelings, he appeared ebullient enough as we crammed ourselves into my geriatric Hyundai for the 1500 mile drive. The trip itself made Gandhi’s “March for Salt” seem like a pleasant afternoon stroll. All my limited funds were tied up in our sub-luxurious accommodations, so we slept (and I use that word very loosely) in my car for two days. We also found ourselves compelled to eat aroma-rich foods to mask the alarming reek of our own body odor but alas, that ended up giving us the farts. I’ve seen less-gross Judd Apatow movies. By the time we arrived at the hotel, I would have sucked-off a camel for a long shower and a comfortable bed.

            But I’m a hopeless mom, so Jimmy got to wash the stink off him first, while I did that whole nesting thing. When he came out of the bathroom wearing just a towel, he looked like he weighed about 35 pounds. Sigh. I keep myself in really good shape, but the days of being that skinny were gone forever.

            We were so cartoonishly tired that evening that neither of us felt as embarrassed as we should have, sleeping in the same, relatively snug bed. I was woken up about an hour into my blissful slumbers by a strange shaking. Earthquake? They did have them in those parts of the world. Luckily, I didn’t jump up screaming and head for the nearest doorway because it turned out to be Jim having a wank. On the one hand (pardon the pun), I was shocked and horrified (after all, he was only lying about an inch and a half from me), but on the other, I was envious. It had been a considerable time since I’d had anything that even resembled a penis inside me and a glorious clit clobbering sounded like just what Mama needed. After about five minutes of intense self-abuse, Jimmy let out a muffled grunt and fell silent. He then slept like a baby while his poor mother spent the next several hours trying not to finger herself under her nightshirt.

            The first thing next morning, I jumped out of bed and ran into the shower. I was perfectly clean but I needed the rushing water to cover up the sounds of my moans as I whapped myself bow-legged. After three days in that cramped rust bucket of a car, the feel of that first orgasm rushing up from my swollen, dripping “mom mound” almost made me scream the paint off the bathroom walls. Not that it wasn’t peeling off already (As I stated earlier, this wasn’t the priciest of establishments.). I treated myself to a really nice second jaw-dropper and was about halfway to a third when Jimmy banged on the door.

            “I’m hungry,” he so inconveniently complained, “are you going to be in there all morning?”

            That sounded like a brilliant idea, but being the good parent, I bid a reluctant farewell to my sweet and tender genitals and got dressed. Ten minutes later, we were chowing down on some eggs and overlooking the sunny Gulf of Mexico. It was very nice but I was still a half a wank short of being completely happy.

            We spent the morning looking around what was left of the town (apparently a hurricane made its way down main street in 1989 and they still hadn’t gotten around to fixing things) and the afternoon at the beach. It was a topless stretch of sand but I kept my boobies modestly confined because of whom I was with. As it was, poor Jimmy was forced to spend most of his tan-time slouched-over next to me, trying to conceal his humongous boner. Hey, there were a lot of very nice breasts on that beach, I didn’t blame him. And the sight of some of those big cocks jammed into tiny Speedos had me wanting to go a few rounds with my Dos Equis bottle. As I say, it had been quite a while since I’d had the puss serviced by anyone other than me.

            Luckily, by about 5 o’clock or so, Jim was able to deflate his trunks sufficiently that we were able to drag our sun-baked bodies back to the hotel. He pleasured himself three times that night, after he thought I’d gone to sleep. I rolled over to face him, thinking that might dissuade him from further penis poundings and let his exhausted mother get some shuteye but it only set his busy monkey-spanking schedule back about 10 minutes.  

            It was a moonlit evening and I could see him rubbing away on his cock quite clearly through my pretend-closed eyes. It was something I’d literally never seen in person. A man “doing what comes naturally”. The way he had a death grip on his shaft and the intensity with which he pumped it up and down was beginning to make my ramp damp. Luckily, his eyes were shut tight (remembering those girls on the beach, I’m guessing) so I could really take it all in without worrying about getting caught ogling my own son’s wang. Soon, his breathing sped up and he let out a little “ugh,” and shot a creamy load onto his stomach. I was stunned that he had anything left to squeeze out of those nards of his. He was working those poor fellas to the point of collapse!

            Within seconds, he’d wiped himself clean and fallen off to sleep. I waited an appropriate amount of time (or as long as I could stand to wait), got out of bed and gave myself a quick one in the bathroom. God, I needed that!

            The next few nights followed the same pattern. I’d take him to the beach in the afternoon to ogle some sexy girls and watch him whap the daylights out of his meat stick that evening. Then, once he’d drifted off to dreamland, I’d slip out and pound my vulva into paste. Hey, I had to have a little fun on my vacation.

            On our fourth evening there, we went to a really nice bar. The waitress was a stone fox, with a really low cut top and a pair of tits that deserved to be in an art gallery somewhere. And she certainly knew how to use them. I’m betting those bouncing beauties were bringing in a horny king’s random in tips.  

            “Would you like a beer or something, sweet cheeks?” she inquired with a smile that could have given a hard-on to a dead guy.

            Jimmy looked at me, wondering what I would say.

            “Hey, the drinking age down here is 18, go for it. And I think I’ll have one of your largest margaritas.”

            So, there we sat for the rest of the evening, eating spicy Mexican food and cooling it off with large, cold containers of alcohol. By the time we’d finished drinking, my brain was absolutely swimming and Jimmy had turned into a grinning bobble-head doll.

            “I’m not sure we can leave,” he giggled.

            “Why ever not?” I slurred.

            “I’m afraid I have a rather embarrassing erection.”

Yep, he was completely out of it.

            “The waitress’s’s’s tits?” I asked knowingly.

            Jimmy tried nodding his head but almost fell off his chair.

            “I tell you what, I’ll get up first and you walk close behind me. We’ll get you and that big boner of yours out of here and no one will be the wiser.” Shit, I was as drunk as he was.

            And that’s exactly what we did. Only Jim followed me a little too close and several people did glance our way as we attempted to stealthily exit the saloon. Mostly because it looked like someone had glued his crotch to the back of my dress.

            “We’re out of the restaurant now, sweetie. You can take your woody out of my ass-crack.”

            “Oh. Sorry about that,” he apologized, separating himself from the mother-ship. 

            “Not a problem,” I smiled and then kissed him full on the mouth. I have no idea what I was thinking…or whether I was thinking. “I am so proud of you.”

            “I just want you to know, I’m gonna support you, when I get a good job. That’s what this has all been about. You shouldn’t have to live in that tiny apartment when I have these smart things in my head.”

            That was such a beautiful thing to say, I’m afraid I kissed him again. Even longer this time and with more tongue. Jimmy didn’t seem to object. In fact, I’d say he more than held up his lingual side of our smooch.

            Then, I quickly pushed him away. Even with a head floating in booze, I could see that it was my duty as a mother to stop this craziness in its tracks.  

            By the time we got back to our shitty room, I had not stopped all this craziness in its tracks and things had progressed in a most unfortunate and inappropriate direction. Blush! We couldn’t keep our drunken mitts of each other. He had his hand up my skirt and I had mine down the front of his jeans. It felt so good to have my fingers wrapped around a meaty dick again. Okay, this probably wasn’t the male member I should have chosen to reacquaint myself with, but sometimes (especially when there is alcohol involved) you have to make do.

            Once more, I paused to reflect upon my actions, but only after I’d unzipped Jimmy’s pants and pulled them down to his knees. There was my son’s cock about an inch from my nose. Did I really want to do this? Alas, I didn’t have time to answer myself as Jim grabbed the back of my head and pulled me towards him. The next thing I knew, I was noisily slurping up and down on his rock hard Johnson and turning his balls into tingle bells with the tips of my fingers. Let’s just say he was a fan of my oral technique. An inebriated thought occurred to me.

            “So, have you ever had your cock sucked before?” I queried with a small giggle.

            “Mom, you’re not supposed to ask your son a question like that!” he countered.

            Jimmy had a point. I shrugged and continued to lovingly polish his knob. A second, more sensible thought, came staggering into my ddipsomaniacal head. If I made him cum in my mouth, then we wouldn’t actually have to do “the deed”. He pulled my top off while I was sucking and considering this. I believe I was the one who removed my bra. Blush a second time!

            Two minutes later:

            I was lying on the bed, completely naked, and my legs spread out like a Piper Cub propeller.

            “No. You can’t fuck me. I’m not on birth control!”

            “Plan B,” he shouted and stuck the head of his schlong into my sopping girlie hole. Most of my sense and resistance ended about then. I wrapped my legs around him, grabbed his ass and let him ride me like only an 18 year old can. It was mind blowing. I watched his eager teenage cock ram its way inside me again and again while his nuts swung back and forth between my legs like cobs of corn in a windstorm. Stunningly, considering his lack of experience in matters horizontal, I came first. I could feel a large one welling up inside me like a pressure cooker set way too high. Sticking my nails into his tight pink ass, I began to buck up and down like a demented rodeo bull. He’s very lucky his maniac mom I didn’t snap his dick off. Massive orgasmic waves blasted up from my throbbing, swollen twat and overwhelmed every muscle and fiber in my body.

            Even as I was screaming about wanting him to “crush my cunt with his gigantic suckable fuck wad” he continued to pound away down there, huffing and puffing like a fat guy after a sack race. I was still riding the runaway cum train when he made that now familiar grunt and shot a boatload of his junior jism into my cock-famished pussy. Thrust after thrust poured more of his sticky goo deep into my womb. By the time he finally flopped down like a dead cat on top of me, I was awash in semen. Jimmy bless him, didn’t just roll off his hard-fucked mother and go to sleep. He stayed mounted for a good fifteen minutes or so just soul kissing me and stroking my breasts.

            Then he got hard again and screwed me a second time with as much incestuous verve and perv as the first.

            When I woke up in the morning, with my naked son curled up next to me, I almost shit. What to do now? First I needed some aspirin to calm the sirens blasting in my head. Quietly slipping out of bed, I downed a fistful of pills and sat by the window, looking out at the vast expanse of water. I didn’t bother to put any clothes on. It was hot in the room and my insides were still completely coated in my own child’s spunk, there didn’t seem to be much point in a pretend show of bashfulness.

            About half an hour into my contemplative communing with what’s-left-of-the-splendor of the Gulf after the BP catastrophe, I felt someone gently touch my shoulder. Jimmy was up and had also neglected to don suitable attire. He bent down and kissed the top of my head and stroked my neck. Shivers shot up and down my spine and I felt myself to begin to get moist. Uh oh! Wrong reaction! I could also see that Jim’s woman-whacker was starting to show signs of renewed life. He reached down to feel my left tit.

            “No baby, we can’t. Last night was a huge mistake. A huge drunken stupid mistake and it is totally my fault.”

            That’s what I said, but I didn’t attempt to remove his hand from my chest. Perhaps in retrospect I should have done that.

            One Minute Later:

            “Listen, I’m only going to give you blowjobs for the rest of our trip, okay?” I said, removing his throbbing man slice from my mouth. “All this shit we’re doing is completely illegal outside of The South.”

            Well, I kept that promise for about another 6 minutes. From that day on, he fucked me in every position imaginable. We hardly left the room for the rest of the stay. Nothing lewd or licentious was seemingly off limits while hunkered down in the depths of our sin cave but I did refuse to give him anal for two days before our return trip home. There was no way I was going to drive for 76 hours with a sore and throbbing asshole. Though, that was the first thing he asked me for when we pulled into our driveway. What is it with you men when it comes to putting it up our poop holes?

            So, after a summer of the hottest and most sex I’d ever had, I drove my beautiful boy off to his big impressive Ivy League school. At least I knew when he found a decent girl (who wasn’t an incestuous whore, like me), he’d know what to do with her.

            Even though I was driving back the next morning, I let him give me anal as our last sex act together. And man, he pounded my sphincter raw! Sure it was painful, but when you think about it, what more fitting gift is there for a guy who got into a Brown!

If you like the writing, please check out more of my work at the site below.

http://www.caffieri.com/#XXX