Beat the Clock: A Mom's Assignment

Another moment passed and the tension was thick between us and then John found a hidden reserve of strength somewhere and said in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "I reckon I should go hit the books, Mom!"

He turned and hurried down the hallway, slightly hunched over and this time not looking back even when I called out, "Thanks, son. Go get your schoolwork done and I'll call us in a pizza for supper. I picked up some DVDs for us to watch too!" John was in such a hurry, he barely mumbled in reply.

I dressed, feeling sinful in a nice way as I slipped on my crotchless panties, admiring myself in the mirror and how the black lace contrasted so well with my wispy blonde muff. I then slipped into a slinky little black lace peignoir that I'd bought earlier. I found it very sexy in that it more teased at what was hidden underneath than actually revealed. It hung to mid thigh, although I quickly discovered it would draw up close to my crotch when I sat down -- even further if I wasn't careful. The scooped neck offered up a voluptuous view of my heavy, meaty breasts, just skirting the edge of my aureoles, yet transparently revealing my nipples in sheer silk swatches.

When I emerged into the kitchen, my "fuck me" pumps back on, I was feeling nasty and whorish and part of me, especially the part between my legs was urging me to get on up stairs and just throw myself at my son. Still, part of me sensed he wasn't quite ready and even though time was passing quickly -- it was already somehow past six o'clock, I felt I had to proceed cautiously.

My confidence in my plan took a shattering hit when right after I called in the pizza, the phone rang and I discovered it was Dale on the other end. I felt panic rise up in me and wondered if my previous caller was listening in and I had to steel myself simply to pass pleasantries with my husband as he yammered on and on about his first day at his seminar. While he rhapsodized about new insurance statistics, I had to fight the urge to scream at him to run to the police and somehow get himself protected, my impulses squelched by my certain knowledge that if I did so, he might be saved, but that I was condemning my daughter to death.

Then a terrible wave of guilt washed over me as I realized that for the first time in our marriage, I was going to be unfaithful to him. But what else could I do? I felt a little crazy for a moment as Dale talked on, fighting a new urge to just ask him, "Hey honey, what would you prefer I do -- let you be murdered or fuck our son?"

Finally my air of distraction became obvious even to my husband. "Con -- are you okay, babe?" Dale asked. "Is our boy taking care of you while I'm gone?"

I fought down the urge to just start laughing or crying and replied, "Oh sure, you'll -- um, you'd be proud of him." That seemed to mollify my husband and after we discussed his schedule, he told me he'd see me Monday evening and that he loved me.

"I love you, too, Dale," I replied a bit numbly and after he hung up, I rushed back to the bathroom and had myself a good cry. Afterwards, I left money on the little table in our foyer and called up to my son to pay the pizza guy when he arrived, then I retreated to the kitchen and struggled to regroup -- to muster up whatever was inside me that would see this seduction through.

To my surprise, it didn't take me long to find it. I thought over and over about what I had to do -- fuck my son and I focused on how hard I -- his mother, had made him with my little fashion show and naughty flashing. The more I thought about that big bulge in his pants, I felt the fires again growing between my legs and I squirmed in my chair at the kitchen table again trying to understand how I could feel both ashamed and aroused at the same time.

It was almost seven-thirty when the doorbell rang and I had to yell up to John twice to come answer it. I gathered myself up and collected plates and drinks and placed them on a serving tray while listening to my son come downstairs and deal with the pizza delivery guy. When I heard the door close, I carried the tray down the hallway to the living room. When I arrived, John had the pizza on the coffee table and was looking over the DVDs I'd picked up -- a frown on his face.

"What's the matter, honey? Didn't I buy anything good?"

John began to answer me, but his reply died on his lips as he took in his scantily dressed mother. My negligee either scared him or aroused him or hopefully both. I wondered what he might be thinking -- maybe wondering why I was so sexily dressed, obviously not wearing a bra and as his eyes scanned downward, studying the hem of my peignoir, recalling that my panties were crotchless.

I leaned over and set down the tray, my breasts almost falling out and certainly giving him a tremendous view of my cleavage. "Honey...son? Everything okay?" I asked softly, handing him a plate and a soda.

He continued to stare for a few more seconds, face darkening up like before. Then he shook himself out of his stupor and found his voice. "Um...what. No, uh, I mean, yeah, I'm okay, Mom." He looked around, grasping for words, staring first at the pizza and then at the DVD's in his hands. "Oh, uh, these movies...I'm not sure you're going to like them. I think they're kind of..." He had to search for the word. "They're kinda crude, Mom."

Actually they were really crude and really raunchy. I'd picked them out carefully. They were mostly so-called teen comedies about teenage boys trying to get laid or just losing their virginity and just chock full of naked women of all ages, mostly with improbably huge tits. I selected one of them and popped it into the player while we both sat on the couch and ate pepperoni pizza. It was the sleaziest of the lot, the storyline roughly about a young man trying to lose his virginity to a sexy young thang, but winding up bedding her sexy older thang of a mother. It was crude and nasty, full of cursing and nudity and even funny in a silly sort of way.

John's attention was never totally on the movie, his eyes drawn again and again to me sitting at the other end of the couch, following me whenever I got up to go the bathroom or get something more to drink. With every movement, I would wind up a little closer to my son on the couch -- him almost shrinking into the corner. I shifted about constantly, giving my son quick flashes of my crotch as my peignoir would ride upwards. Before too long, he had a huge bulge in his pants.

Finally the first movie ended and it was now past ten o'clock, I knew time was quickly running out. I got up and put in another DVD, making a big production out of bending over, letting the negligee ride up and expose my ass and my uncovered mound. I was scared and turned on and could feel the heat and slipperiness of my labia, swollen and wet and very much exposed to my son.

When I sat back down, I sat right next to John, curling up to him with a contented sigh, my feet underneath me and the hem of my peignoir hovering right around my crotch. This movie was an old 1970's soft porn comedy -- a European feature in poorly dubbed English with scads of nudity and barely concealed sex. John sat there tense and wired, my hand on his forearm, my fingers lightly scratching along the fine hairs of his arm. His heart was beating hard enough for me to feel it and he was breathing heavily.

As we watched a scene where a young man fucked an older woman with big, bouncing breasts and wearing an awful blonde wig, I snuggled up closer to my son, my breast mashing against his upper arm, almost falling free from my outfit. As the woman's screams of orgasm began to fade, I whispered as I stroked his skin, "John, thank you for helping me out today -- for being the man I needed."

Barely audible, John replied, "Yeah...um, anytime, Mom."

"It really meant a lot to me, hearing you tell me how beautiful I am...how sexy I am." I paused and moved my fingers down to his hand and interlocking our fingers, added, "A woman my age can't hear that sort of thing enough."

There was a long pause and then John said, "Well, it's true, Mom. You are beautiful."

I turned my head to look up at him and asked in a quite voice, "Really, son?"

My son gave me a shy smile and said, "Really, Mom -- I've always thought you were beautiful."

I lifted myself up and gave my son a slow, lingering peck on the cheek, my meaty breast rubbing against his body as I moved. "You're so sweet, baby," I said, giving his hand a squeeze."

Silence followed and we turned our attention back to the screen where the older blonde haired woman was now on her knees, the young man behind her and her face screwed up into an expression of pained ecstasy. I squirmed about, working my way closer against my son and letting my hand fall just above his knee. The tension in the room doubled as we watched the scene play out on the television screen.

A clock up on the mantle chimed -- announcing that it was ten-thirty -- I had ninety minutes to seduce my son and save my daughter and her father. I took a deep breath and made my move. "Son?" I said.

"Yes, Mom?"

"This afternoon when I was modeling my new clothes for you, did I make you hard?"

My son gasped and his body stiffened and I think he halfheartedly tried to rise, but I kept my hand firmly on his leg. "Please, John. I really want to know."

Silence ensued...punctuated only by the low, animal moans of the woman on the screen. I slid my hand a few inches up John's thigh and said, "Please tell me -- did Momma make your cock hard?"

John licked his lips and opened his mouth and then closed it. His face was turned to the television screen and finally, unable to turn and look at me, he whispered, "Yes."

I slid my fingers further up his thigh, stopping just sigh of the tent pole that had risen up. I asked the obvious. "Son, are you hard right now?"

He nodded, swallowing with difficulty and unable to speak. "John, are you hard now because we're watching that woman get fucked or are you hard because of me?"

My son began to nod again, but I leaned into him and with my free hand, took him by his chin and turned his face towards me. "Tell Momma the truth."

There were tears in his eyes as the moment began to overwhelm him and he sobbed, "You, Mom. You're making me hard!" He began to cry, but I made shushing noises and put my finger on his lips and then I rose slightly and pressed my lips to his, kissing him gently and lovingly, mostly with a closed mouth, but using my tongue to wash over his soft lips every few moments. I'm not sure why, but it seemed to calm him down a little.

"Thank you, sweetie. I'm glad I made your cock stiff -- I wanted to turn you on," I said. I slipped my hand further up and palmed the khaki covered monster in his crotch. I could feel it pulsing in rhythm with his heart. I looked into my son's eyes and with an eager, pleading tone said, "Can I see it, John? Can Momma see her son's big, erect cock?"

Again my son, eyes wide in amazement and near panic, was rendered speechless and could only and helplessly nod. Never taking my eyes off my son's face, trying to convey my love for him through eye contact alone, I worked his belt loose and then unbuttoned his pants and drew down his zipper -- John tensing up as I slipped my hand into his crotch, through the opening of his boxers and for the first time, wrapped my fingers around my son's erect penis!

Freeing it from the confines of his shorts, I finally looked down and now I was speechless. Oh my god! Who the hell knew my son was carrying around such a huge piece of cockflesh. Almost mesmerized, I began to slowly stroke it, feeling it pulse with life in my grip. I tore my eyes away from my son's mammoth cock and looked again into his eyes.

"John, your cock is lovely," I breathed hoarsely. "It's so damn big!" I lowered my voice conspiratorially and added, "You're much bigger than your father!" which was not a lie. Just holding it in my hand, I knew my son's cock was both longer and thicker than Dale's penis. Still stroking his cock, I rose up again and kissed him on the lips, rolling my tongue over his still pressed together lips.

"Mom?" my son finally managed to gasp. "We can't -- we shouldn't be doing...this is wrong!"

"No it's not, baby," I said gently, never ceasing my slow stroking. "You love me and I love you. I make you hard and you..." I paused for emphasis. "You make your mother wet!"

John's eyes widened and he whispered, "What?"

I slowly spread my knees, knowing I was pulling the hem of the peignoir upwards, revealing my exposed cunt, naked and framed by the sexy black lace of my crotchless panties. "You make my pussy wet, son. The love I have for you -- my need for you and this fine cock has made my pussy wetter than it's ever been in my entire life." I reached out with my free hand and found his almost limp hand. "Feel me for yourself, baby. Touch Momma and see how hot and wet I am for you!"

I tugged his hand towards me, letting it come to rest on my inner thigh just a few inches from my flowered labia, now darkly pink and wetly glistening. I released his hand. It was important that he make the move on his own -- instinctively, I knew this.

My own voice now took on an odd quaver as I was growing overwhelmed by the moment, horrified at what I had to do and even more horrified at what I suddenly wanted, no, needed to do. I couldn't believe how excited I was. My nipples were so swollen that they hurt. "Touch me, sweetheart. Feel what you do to me!"

I held my breath, not taking my eyes off my son's face while I continued to slowly masturbate him. His hand remained motionless for the longest time and then I felt him move! His hand slid up my thigh, brushing over the lacy silk of my panties and then paused, hovering over the heat of my cunt. "It's alright, John. Please touch me -- I want you to."

I let out a little gasp as for the first time in my life, my son's fingers brushed through my wispy bush and then pressed against my wet labia. John paused again, eyes wide with desire and perhaps madness, no doubt reflecting the incestuous lust shining in my own eyes and then, one finger -- then two began to trail along my slit, between my swollen and quivering lips, sinking deeper as they moved and then deeper as he probed for my opening. "Yessss!" I hissed as my son's fingers found their way deeper inside my pussy. I began trying to clamp down around his fingers, wanting to feel him inside me.

"Oh, Mom!" John moaned. "You -- you're sooooo hot and soooo wet!" He waggled his fingers around sinking them to the second knuckle and I ground myself against his hand. "I love you, Mom!"

Almost on the verge of tears, both ashamed and aroused, I whispered back, "I love you too, John," and then I leaned into him again and kissed him, forcing my tongue between his lips and gratified and excited as he began to kiss me back, his tongue probing uncertainly into my mouth. As we kissed, I continued my slow stroking of his cock which seemed to grow a bit more around my fingers, blood pulsing within that mighty pole more rapidly with each passing moment. I passed my thumb gently over the top of his cockhead, smearing the thick drops of precum dripping from the slit of his cock.

John was doing his part, making me shiver with pleasure as he plunged another finger into my pussy, probing and discovering my sweet spots like a natural. I made excited mewing noises against his mouth, rubbing myself up against his body like a female cat in heat. I reached out and took his free hand and guided it to my breasts, tugging down the neckline of my peignoir and letting my breasts spring free. John moaned happily as he began kneading my heavy tits, palms scraping against my turgid nipples and sending more bolts of pleasure through my body.

Animalistic passion took over -- all thoughts of shame banished and on the verge of orgasm, I pulled away from my son only to sink to my knees in front of him. For the moment I was beyond words, beyond any coherent plan. Suddenly, I had my son in my mouth, running my tongue over his cock, sucking his cockhead furiously, never losing eye contact and reveling in the look of utter pleasure now on his face.

I sucked and lapped up his precum and slowly took all of him in my mouth until his wiry blonde pubes were tickling my nose. Then, despite being almost drunk with sheer carnal desire, I realized I was tasting cum -- not that he'd shot his load yet, but I could taste it on his shaft and in his crotch and I became suddenly aware of the dampness of his pubic thatch. It hit me hard, almost making me swoon as realization swept over me. He'd masturbated within the last few hours!

I let my son slowly slip from my lips and then as I took his stiff rod in hand, rubbing it over my cheeks and lips, I looked up at him and said, "You jacked yourself off after my fashion show, didn't you?" I probably would have sent him into a panic if not for my lusty, evil grin. John nodded slowly.

"You went upstairs and stroked this big cock while thinking of your Momma, didn't you, baby?" I cooed before running my tongue up the length of his long and hard penis.

"Yes, Mom," John gasped.

"Mmmmmm, well, you'll never need to jack off again, son. Momma will make sure of that!" I growled before taking him in my mouth again, sucking my son off with a vengeance. As I bobbed my head up and down on his shaft, massaging his velvet steel with my lips and tongue, I felt his fingers fall to my head, curling around my short blonde hair till he was helping me work my head back and forth -- fucking my face as much as I was sucking his dick. I moaned my approval at this, making him moan in return.

It didn't take too long from there. I heard John's breath quicken and his cock began to swell and he cried out, "OH CHRIST, MOM! I'M CUMMMING!" And my god, he came -- a great gusher of hot sperm exploding from his cock into my mouth. Sweet, clean tasting cum. I'd forgotten how a young man's semen could taste. John thrust himself against my face, crying with pleasure as I continued to suck him and then I felt myself nearly orgasm as reality came crashing in.

My mind reeled as I realized that for the first time in over twenty-one years, I had a cock in my mouth that wasn't my husband's -- amazement that doubled as part of me screamed, "You're sucking your son's big cock. YOU'RE EATING YOUR SON'S HOT, DELICIOUS CUM...AND YOU FUCKING LOVE IT!"

I couldn't help but love what I was doing. It had been years since I'd felt this much passion for a man...for my husband. A dam of repressed sexual need exploded into release, narrowing down in focus to this wonderful cock of my own child's, a cock I just kept sucking and sucking, draining his load and delighting in tasting and swallowing every drop.

My son squirmed and shook with pleasure and I continued sucking his cock. The sensations overwhelmed him -- my sure and determined loving of his sensitive flesh became too much and I continued to suck his cock, even as he tried to withdraw, putting pressure on my head, tugging me by the hair to let him go. I resisted and as he moaned from the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain that my mouth and tongue were delivering, I sucked on his still stiff cock even harder.

Minutes passed with John moaning, "Mom -- I love you, Mom, but, oh God, too much...OH, MOM!" Still, I sucked my son's cock without pause, paying attention for any sign of shrinking and becoming pleased with myself as it continued to throb, stiff and firm in my hungry mouth. My own needs now began to assert themselves and now assured of my son's erection continuing, I wanted it and him inside me.

"Baby, do you think you can fuck Momma?" I gasped as I let him slide from my lips, a long streamer of saliva and sperm trailing with me until it finally snapped and splattered against my exposed breasts. I began to fall back, shoving the coffee table away so I could lie on my back, drawing my knees up and then spreading them to expose my wet and hungry cunt to my son.