Britslut’s

Slutty Stories

 

 Sons and Lovers

(sequel to Laundry)

© Copyright britslut 2006. No re-use allowed without permission.

 

I lay there, my son’s cum slowly drying on my skin, wondering what on earth was going to happen and what I wanted to happen. I dare not admit to myself that the thought of Robert having full sex with me was spinning round my head. I was sure I had experienced another orgasm of a sort when his semen had splashed against my breasts. All I could think about was seeing and touching and, yes, tasting more of his copious fluids ...

All was quiet in the house. Eventually I got up, put my work clothes back on without bothering to clean myself up, and went downstairs. Robert was in his room working and I didn’t see him for the rest of the evening. I wondered whether he was feeling as guilty and confused as I was. I had a strong temptation to go into him and kneel before his chair and take his cock in my mouth ...

I slept badly. In the morning he was bright and breezy, eating breakfast as if nothing had happened. As he went off to school he gave me a big kiss on the cheek and at the same time took my hand and pressed it against his trousers. I could feel the bulge of his erection, which he would presumably carry around all day until I got home again and he could obtain my panties and swathe his cock in their body-heat.

This had got to stop. At lunchtime I phoned Carol on her mobile.

‘Hi Gina. Hang on, I’m just in the middle of my lunch. Call you back in five minutes, OK?’

‘’Hi Carol, how’s the soreness?’ I asked when she rang back.

‘Oh, fine, thanks. Didn’t last long. Why, is Robert wanting a repeat match?’

‘I think he might. He’s ridiculously horny. If he doesn’t get some release, I’m afraid ... well, afraid that something might happen.’

‘What sort of something?’

‘We might ... go too far together.’

‘How far is too far?’ There was a chuckle in her voice.

‘Any further. He’s just a bomb full of sperm, waiting to explode.’

‘So you want me to do you a favour and drain your son’s balls, eh?’ Carol said, rather curtly.

‘Well ... I thought you rather enjoyed it last time ...’

‘Oh sure, it was great! No problem. But what are you afraid of, Gina?’

I took a deep breath. ‘I think I may ... have given him the wrong impression.’

‘What have you been up to? Come on, tell me. I want all the juicy details.’

Hesitantly, I narrated to my friend what had taken place between Robert and I since he had got back from Carol’s. Sitting in my office describing how I had masturbated him so that he climaxed over my naked body made it seem even more sordid - and it was pretty sordid to start with.

Carol was silent for a minute when I finished.

‘Let’s face it, Gina, you want him bad. More than he wants you, in fact.’

‘How do you work that one out?’

‘Robert will fuck anything in skirts for his kicks. He’ll even fuck me. But you, you’re stuck on him and him alone. You don’t even look at other blokes.’

The more I thought about it, the more I realised she was right. But I didn’t want to admit it.

‘I can’t ... do it with him. I’m his mum. It’s so wrong. It’s as wrong as anything can be.’

‘More wrong than wanking him into your dirty smalls?’

I sighed.

‘However, if you want me to give him another all-night shag-fest, that’s fine,’ she went on. ‘I’m creaming in my knicks just thinking about it. And I’ve got a few tricks that we haven’t tried yet. But just think - what will you do next week when Paul’s back home?’

I said my goodbyes and rang off. She was right, as ever. What would I do when her own son was living with her? He might not take kindly to knowing his mother was screwing his school-friend.

When I got home from work that night Robert was sitting in the kitchen eating a biscuit.

‘Mum, is it OK if I go round to Paul’s again this evening? Probably stay over again?’ Carol must have phoned him to arrange her shag-fest, as she called it. She was quick off the mark!

‘That’s fine, love. Only ... probably best if you don’t tell Paul about it.’

‘Oh, he knows. He’s cool.’ I had forgotten that, of course, they saw each other at school even when Paul was at his father’s house.

‘You’ve ... told him about it?’

‘Oh yeah. He thinks it’s great. I had to give him a ball-by-ball commentary. As it were.’ He chortled as realised what he had said.

‘Did you tell him ... about us?’

‘Yeah. We tell each other everything. He thinks it’s cool.’

Oh my god, I thought. It would be all round the school, what Robert’s mum does with spunk and panties.

‘Look, Robert, I don’t think we ought to do ... anything any more.’

His face fell. ‘Aw, mum. You know you like it as much as I do.’ As he said this, he reached up under my skirt - I was standing in front of him - and slowly hooked his fingers into the waistband of my tanga briefs. I was powerless to stop him as he slipped them down my thighs and lifted one then the other of my legs so that I could step out of them. He raised the scrap of black cotton to his lips.

‘Mmm, very hot and juicy today.’ He unzipped his trousers and hauled out his already erect cock, wrapping the panties carefully around the shaft.

‘Why don’t you kneel down?’ he said softly. I felt as if I was hypnotized, my eyes riveted to the taut swollen head of his penis. I knelt on the tiled floor, hands by my sides, while he stroked his shaft slowly. His breathing grew louder and ragged.

‘Open your mouth, mum,’ he whispered. Time seemed to stop ...

Almost none of his emission went in my mouth. The long strings of semen flew up across my face and hair, the later pulses falling onto my breasts and blouse. My son wiped his cock across my cheek, then stood up, tucked his cock back into his trousers, and tucked my panties down my bra, leaving me kneeling there, trembling.

I thought: he had taken control, and I had let him. I had enjoyed it, the humiliation, the degradation, the sheer dirtiness of it. And at the moment his first spurt had hit me in the face, a hot gush of fluid had burst deep inside my vagina and was now trickling down my thighs.

It was a long time before I struggled to my feet. I looked at myself in the hall mirror, dispassionately inspecting the fan of white globules across my face and hair. I went to start cooking the tea.

My son didn’t comment when he came down to eat, as I sat there with his ejaculation still on my head and chest. Afterwards he kissed me on the mouth and said he was going over to Carol’s - there was no need for the fiction about seeing Paul.

‘Have a good time, love,’ I said. What else could I say?

I spent the rest of the evening in a daze - my usual state by now. I didn’t clean the semen off - fortunately no-one came round to visit me - until the next morning. Its smell filled my nostrils and triggered confused, erotic dreams. Part of me wanted to let him do anything with me, no matter how perverted or obscene; another part was revolted and horrified. I wondered idly which would win.

In the morning Carol phone me to report on the night’s activities.

‘God, that lad’s a spunk factory! I feel like I’m blown up like a balloon. Where does he get it all from? Was his dad like that?’

‘Not really. I mean, about average, I think. I haven’t got a lot to compare with, really.’

‘Well, I’ve had a few blokes in my time - more than a few, in fact - and your son wins hands down. Quantity and stamina. Like a firehose. And he just keeps coming back for more.’

‘I guess I should be proud of him.’

Her voice dropped to a murmur. ‘Take my advice, Gina. Let him at you. He’ll give you the best sex you’ve ever had.’

‘It’s OK for you to say that, he’s not your son. How would you feel if I told you to shag Paul?’

‘I’ve been thinking about it. Although he might be a disappointment after Robert. Who’s coming over again tonight, by the way, hope you don’t mind. I’m hooked on him. Which raises the question, what happens next week when Paul is here? I need my nightly fix of spunk, Gina. I can’t go for a whole week without it!’

‘You could send Paul over here,’ I said without thinking. ‘Do a son-swap.’

‘Hey, you might have something there. That way, we both get serviced. I’ll suggest it to him.’

What if he doesn’t fancy me? I thought. I am, after all, old enough to be his mother. There was another solution, of course. Robert could service me, and Paul could shag Carol, whom, if she was right, he lusted after anyway. No, I thought, let’s not go there.

The thought of spending the night with a teenage stud - one to whom I was not remotely related - kept me nicely juicy all day. I hadn’t had sex, apart from with my own fingers, for months, and my vagina was crying out for some action. I wondered how I would get through the rest of the week until Carol’s son was available. But what if he objected to the arrangement? We would be back to square one.

I felt a sort of empowerment by the time I got home. I had resolved to exercise rigid self-control and not to go any farther with Robert. But it was harder than I expected. He caught me as I was standing at the sink peeling potatoes. His arms encircled my waist and I felt his erection pressing between my buttocks. He slid his hands down my thighs and up again, carrying my skirt with them, sliding inside my panties.

‘No. Not tonight,’ I said with a catch in my voice. ‘Save it for Carol.’

‘I thought you liked it, mum,’ he sounded amused, not hurt or angry, but stopped and withdrew.

‘I do. I mean, no, we shouldn’t. Not any more. Doesn’t Carol satisfy you?’ I turned round - he was leaning against the table, his hips jutting, his erection plain under his trousers and T shirt. I felt a weakening and a wetness - I just wanted to kneel before him and take his cock deep in my mouth until it erupted ...

‘Oh sure. She’s a nympho!’

‘Robert! That’s not a nice thing to say.’

‘Well, she is. Insatiable. Wants it constantly. Not that I’m complaining.’

‘Well, women get horny too, you know.’

‘I know you do, mum,’ he said gently, holding out his arms to me. I couldn’t help myself, I flowed into them and he hugged me and stroked my back. His erection pressed into my stomach. ‘That’s why I’ll always be here for you. You’ll always take priority.’ His hips bucked gently, rubbing his shaft up and down against me. I felt hotness flooding my vagina. It would be so easy to slip my panties off and lift my thigh and take him into my hungry aching void. My nipples swelled against his chest and without thinking I began to hump gently against him, rubbing my pubic mound against the base of his cock. He clutched my buttocks and moaned.

‘Oh mum!’ I felt his cock jerk against my belly, again and again. A warm wetness spread across my stomach, matched by a similar one in my panties.

‘ Now look what you’ve done,’ he joked as we separated, showing me the wetness blossoming on his shirt. My blouse was likewise soaked.

‘You should have saved that for Carol,’ I said.

‘Plenty more where that came from! But you didn’t cum, did you, mum? I bet your panties are really wet by now, aren’t they?’

I nodded helplessly. So much for exercising self-control. I knew what he wanted and I knew that I could not resist him. I reached under my skirt and took off the black tangas. As predicted, they were soaked, almost dripping with my sexual juices. I held them out and Robert took them and pressed the crotch to his mouth and nose, inhaling deeply and then sucking. He stuffed the cotton into his mouth and chewed it like a gourmet.

‘That’s so tasty, mum. What will you do while I’m round at Carol’s?

Fuck myself into oblivion with my fingers, I nearly said. ‘Oh, I’ll be OK. Lots to do.’

‘You know what I meant.’

I sighed. ‘I don’t know, love. I just don’t know any more. I don’t think I can stand it.’

He went to hug me again but I guessed where that would lead to and held him at arm’s length, then said something about getting the tea ready. He said he would do his homework, and the spell seemed to be broken. But I was still tremblingly horny, with drips of juice trickling down my thighs every so often.

After tea he shot straight round to Carol’s, giving me a big kiss on the mouth, smelling of deodorant. He looked so virile and handsome that I almost melted and asked him to stay with me. Afterwards, I rattled round the empty house trying to tidy up. The temptation to lie on the bed and masturbate endlessly became stronger and stronger, as I imagined vividly what Robert and Carol would be doing at that moment ... I was even toying with the idea of going into town and having sex with the first bloke who tried to pick me up.

At about 8 o’clock, there was a ring at the door. I went to answer it and realised that I was still pantieless - well, that didn’t show. I opened the door to find Paul, Carol’s son, standing there. He gave me a sheepish smile.

‘Hi, um, is Bob in?’

‘No ...’ I said, confused. ‘He’s ... gone out.’

We looked at each other. I thought that Paul was looking much more grown up than when I had seen him last, only about two weeks before. He seemed taller, about my height, and boyishly handsome, with a wide smile. No wonder Carol fancied him.

‘Won’t you come in?’ I said, or rather my hormones did. I wondered if he could detect the sexual musk radiating from under my skirt. It took an effort to stop myself saying ‘I’m not wearing any panties at the moment.’

We stood in the kitchen. I could see his eyes roaming up and down my body, and presumably wondering what the damp patch on my blouse was. I wanted to slide my hands over his chest.

‘Robert’s gone round to your mother’s,’ I said.

‘Yes, I know.’ Again, that sheepish grin. ‘It’s you I’ve come to see.’

I wondered if he wanted to talk, to pour out his adolescent angst and confusion at the strange way these adults were behaving. I would be happy to put my arm around his broad shoulders and comfort him.

‘Well, here I am ...’

‘Bob’s giving mum lots of sex,’ he said. ‘She’s so happy. It’s great. I was worried about her.’

This was not what I expected to hear. ‘Um, yes, good for them, eh?’

‘But Bob says you’re not happy.’

‘About him and Carol ... having sex? No, I’m OK with it. Honest.’

‘No, I mean, he says you need lots of sex too, like mum. She said the same thing, too.’

God, was my sex life the sole topic of conversation these days? ‘Well, it’s true I haven’t had sex for quite a while. And I’m not over the hill yet.’

I pressed my hands against the side of my hips, reminding myself of my pantieless state. Talking about it had made me realise just how long it was since I had had sex with a man, and just how badly I wanted it.

‘You’re not even getting close to the top of the hill yet, Mrs Martin,’ he said, looking pleased at being able to think of a subtle compliment. ‘I think you’re a very sexy woman.’

‘Sexier than your mum?’ I nearly said. To tell the truth, I was finding it hard to speak. The conversation was taking some interesting turns.

‘Really?’

He nodded. We seemed to have hit some sort of stalemate. I had a pretty good idea why he had turned up, and the temptation to rip his clothes off and shag him was growing by the minute. But something in me had to wait for him to make the first move. After all, he was only a kid really.

‘So why have you come to see me?’ I asked, trying to give him a cue.

He gave me a helpless look and suddenly stepped forward and planted his mouth on mine. I was too shocked to respond at first, but then my hormones and innate female reactions kicked in and I opened my mouth and we wrapped our arms around each other and snogged furiously, wetly, breathlessly. His tongue flailed around in my mouth, I tasted his fresh saliva. Our bodies were crushed together - my nipples, hardening quickly, drilled into his chest; his erection pressed against my stomach. His hands roamed urgently over my back and buttocks. I hoped that he wouldn’t come too soon like Robert.

We broke the kiss to draw breath, strings of saliva still joining us, then mashed our mouths together again. Boldly I explored his firm young body with my hands, squeezing his taut buttocks and grinding my hips against his. We tried to get our tongues down each other’s throats. I hadn’t felt such a rush of passion for a long time, and my sex glands doubled their output.

Paul broke off again and knelt before me, sliding his hands and face down over my breasts and stomach. He lifted my skirt and buried his face in my wet, matted pubic hair. I gasped with the sudden violent eroticism of the act. If he was surprised at my aroused, pantieless state he gave no sign - I would not have been surprised if Robert hadn’t forewarned him. His muscular tongue wormed its way into my bush and sought out my slit, now leaking juice with a vengeance.

I felt the back of the kitchen table against my buttocks, and lifted myself onto it and spread my thighs to allow him easier access. I knew that my labia would be swollen and engorged, dripping with juices, framing my hungry entrance. I felt my lips sliding across his cheeks, opening up, his tongue lashing against my membranes. I splayed my legs even wider, shamelessly urging him further into me. His tongue speared deep into my cavity.

My clitoris was demanding attention, and I got one hand in his hair and pulled his head up slightly so that his mouth fastened on my tingling aching button. He sucked it with a will and an intense, explosive orgasm welled up in me and burst almost without warning. I felt fluids sluicing out of me, my vaginal walls clenching on emptiness. Involuntary noises came from my throat.

Paul slurped up as much of the fluid as he could, plainly relishing the taste. When I got too sensitive I hauled his head up and looked at his wet face through a mist of pleasure.

‘Wow, that is so sexy!’ he breathed, holding my labia apart with his fingers to look at my gaping wet tunnel. I refused to feel any modesty; I was too high on orgasmic bliss. I wanted to reverse our positions and suck on his cock until he exploded in my mouth, but my vagina was demanding to be filled and Paul seemed to be of like mind.

‘I want to fuck you!’ he gasped, licking my wet labia.

‘Do it then!’

He stood up, unhitched his trousers and pulled out his cock. It was a respectable size, rigid and reddened, with a trickle of clear liquid oozing from the eyehole. I stayed perched on the edge of the table, thighs wide, craning my head to watch the actual insertion. I didn’t want to miss any of this - after all it was a rare enough event these days.

Paul positioned his cock between my lips and grasped my thighs, then thrust home. Although I wasn’t tight - my vagina felt like it was gaping like a nestling’s mouth - I still gasped with the suddenness of his penetration. He rammed home in one stroke, the head of his cock thudding against my cervix. There was a loud squelching noise as the air and fluid inside me was displaced. Automatically I squeezed down hard on the base of his shaft as if to keep him inside me for ever.

He groaned with bliss and started to pump into me fast and furious, so that I had to grip the edge of the table to stay in position. As a configuration for intercourse it left a lot to be desired, but I knew that Paul wouldn’t last long. God knows how long he had been dreaming of this moment. I squeezed him rhythmically to intensify the tightness of my tunnel.

I love to see a man’s face when he climaxes.  Paul, who was almost a man, screwed up his eyes and let his mouth hang open. His chin was still dripping with my juices. His body went rigid, his back arched, and he made a strange mewling noise. His cock jerked again and again, spewing his sperm into my hot cavity. I milked him with my internal muscles until his balls must have ached.

He stayed in me, his cock softening with little quivers. Sweat dripped off his forehead. He opened his eyes.

‘Jesus, Mrs Martin, that was incredible! I’ve never come so hard in my life.’

I smiled at him tenderly. ‘I bet you will, though. Maybe even later this evening.’

His face lit up when he realised the implications of what I had said. This wasn’t just a quick shag - I intended to keep him with me all night and extract as much pleasure from him as possible. At my age, you have to seize the moment.

He let his now limp cock slip out of me and looked down to where my raggedly gaping vagina was starting to leak copiously onto the floor. I wondered if his emissions were as huge as Robert’s.

‘Shall I clean you up?’ he said, concerned.

‘I don’t mind,’ I said. ‘Depends if you like your woman to drip.’

‘I’ve never seen it before,’ he said, staring at the trickle of cum. ‘I always used a condom with my girlfriend. Oh god, you’re not going to get pregnant, are you?’

I laughed at his belated concern. ‘No, I had the snip long ago. You can pump as much of that spunk into me as you like.’ As much as possible, I thought.

Finally the trickle, helped by some muscular exercises on my part, died away. Paul still gazed in fascination at my wide-open labia. Hesitantly he bent forward and started to lick my clitoral region again. This was heavenly, but my buttocks were starting to ache. I pulled his head up, gently.

‘Why don’t we go somewhere more comfortable?’ I said, thinking how corny it sounded. ‘We could maybe even take our clothes off.’

 

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 last modified 23 August 2006