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!
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