Just A Cumrag Ch. 01

bysex4every1©

The following day promised to be an interesting one, considering how far I had gotten Malcolm to go along in my perverted little game in just one day. I thought Jason would never leave for work! After he did, I impatiently waited for Malcolm to get back from his morning run.

He walked in – all sweaty and panting – and took out his iPod, quickly gulping down half a bottle of water. "Morning mom." he said as he passed me by, heading towards the stairs. I was disappointed, but only for a moment...

"By the way, there's some cum for you to clean up; bottom shelf of my wardrobe." he said, briefly turning his head towards me, just before walking out. As he continued up the stairs, I smiled, delighted by the fact that the way he was treating me was deteriorating; his respect for me was clearly diminishing!

This realization made me wet beyond anything I could have imagined. I finished my coffee and got up, leaving the breakfast table as it was... I had a more important job to do. After taking several paper towels with me, I headed for his room, opened up his wardrobe and squatted down, bringing my head down to the bottom shelf to see what damage he had done. It was a healthy load; thick, juicy cum: several large ropes and a few dozen drops, which had gone just about everywhere; the side panel, his wardrobe door, the shelf above and quite a few of his clothes.

It took me six full minutes to diligently wipe all his cum off. As I was walking through the hallway, heading for the stairs – and holding the soiled paper towels – Malcolm came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel.

"More cum for you to clean in the shower." he said as he walked into his room.

He probably didn't see me freezing in place, lust ravaging my body as I relished his words, practically ordering me to clean up his cock juice, again. Although I was horny as fuck, I really didn't feel like going downstairs for some more paper towels, so I decided to make the best of an already perfect situation: I turned and walked into Malcolm's room, surprising him as he was naked. As he looked at me, I threw the paper towels in his trash bin and said:"I don't have any more clean ones." as I reached under my skirt with both hands and pulled down my black panties. I smiled and walked out, heading for the bathroom. I had a slight feeling he would be following me, as he could probably guess what I was about to do.

With Malcolm – butt naked – directly behind me, I walked into the bathroom, stepped into the shower and started looking for his nut juice. I quickly located a healthy, thick, glob sliding down the glass screen. I squatted down and used the crotch section of my panties to scoop up as much of his cream as I could, then used other parts of my panties to dab up the last smudges.

When I was done, I got up and out of the shower as I noticed Malcolm staring at me, thinking it was over. He was just about to turn away, when I straightened out my panties and started putting them back on. Malcolm's eyes grew wider than I had ever seen them and for a moment I thought he was going to jump me, but instead he just slowly whispered:"What the fuck?"

I ignored his exclaim of surprise and continued putting my soiled panties on, feeling his second-hand sperm against my bush and my inner thighs, slowly seeping down.

"There you go." I said, briefly looking back at the shower glass.

"Anywhere else?" I added as I turned towards him.

"Uh, not right now." he replied.

I smiled and walked out of the bathroom, heading down the stairs, feeling my cunt water as I felt his sticky cum clinging to my pubic hair and thighs. I realized his surprise would soon wear off and my little performance would only entice him to treat me with even less respect than before. We both knew that this had no longer anything to do with hiding cum from his father – if it ever did to begin with.

I continued walking around the house, letting his cum dry up right where it was.



As I suspected, Malcolm adapted pretty quickly, realizing that he could get away with even more than he had been doing so far... and off course he was going to use those newly discovered privileges the first chance he got. He stayed in his room for the rest of the morning until it was time for lunch, which we usually shared in the kitchen. I was still setting the table when he came in, wearing only a t-shirt. His right hand was firmly gripping his rock, hard cock and he was pumping it fiercely as he came in; from the looks of it, he had been pumping it for quite some time. He walked up to me and brought his cock to within an inch of my skirt, deliberately aiming for it. I froze – standing next to the kitchen table – and simply looked down as he stroked his massive cock. Just a few seconds later, he started spewing a colossal load onto my skirt, creating small streams of gooey cum running down. When he had emptied his balls, he wiped himself off on my skirt and sat down, as if this situation was perfectly normal. I did the same, which put an arrogant smile on his face. We had lunch and even talked a little bit like two normal family members.

About twenty minutes later, he started stroking his cock under the table again; I tried to keep the conversation going, but he didn't utter a single word after he'd started stroking. He just looked me straight in the eye, jacking off unabashed; the boundaries between us were sure fading quickly. After about a minute, I gave up on the conversation and focused on the wetness between my legs instead. God, how I needed to get off! I managed to restrain myself, figuring I'd get off as soon as he was done with whatever he had in mind. I was however unprepared for the boldness and nastiness of his next move: he got up, crawled onto the table and shifted on his knees – carefully avoiding all the condiments and food on the table – over to my side of the table, aiming his cock straight at my red blouse. I couldn't take it anymore and slid a hand down my skirt, finding my moist twat and playing with it, feeling what was left of Malcolm's cum dried up cum against my fingertips.

He just couldn't care less; he just stroked and stroked, clearly only interested in dumping yet another load... and he did, about three minutes later, all over my blouse.

By my count this was his fourth load of the day, and it was as fat and juicy as the first one I had cleaned up in his wardrobe; the quantity was equally impressive as he ruined every square inch of my blouse, paying special attention to my nipple areas. After reaching down and using the hem of my blouse to wipe himself off on, he got off the table and headed back upstairs. So, there I was... playing with myself, dried up cum in my panties and my bush and two big, fresh loads all over my skirt and blouse. I was turning into a regular cumslut, and I loved it... as a matter of fact, I wanted more... a lot more!

I denied myself a climax and went about my household chores, waiting for Malcolm to have any more use for me; hoping that his four orgasms so far today wouldn't have drained him completely. Luckily, that wasn't the case.

About three hours later, I was watching one of my soaps again, wearing a new skirt and blouse, but the same panties, his cum still in them. Suddenly he called out to me from upstairs:"Mom, can you come and help me jack off?"

"Sure thing hon." I replied, as I got up and realized that the balance of power was shifting a little more to his side; up until now, he had always sought me out, but now he was making me come to him. I saw the master bedroom door open, so I checked in there first. It was a good guess: he was on his knees, pumping his cock, one of my sweaters laid out in front of him. I squatted down on the other side of my sweater, my back against the bed and my knees far enough apart, so that he had a prime view. He stared down between my legs, at my panties, and continued to whack off. I watched him pump his beautiful cock for several minutes; the whole situation, as well the memories of everything we'd done today made me nasty...very nasty!

"Can I make a suggestion." I blurted out.

"What?" he asked, curious.

"This sweater is synthetic..." I said as I grabbed it off the floor and threw it on the bed. "... and machine washable; cheap and easy to replace should stains become a problem."

"Now, these sweaters..." I continued as I walked towards my wardrobe and grabbed the top one off a pile. "... are cashmere, dry-clean only and very expensive!" I said as I laid it down in front of him.

"Fuck yeah!" he screamed, arching his back and spraying his rich cream all over the delicate fabric; the very idea of his mother offering an expensive sweater for him to blast his cum on was too much for his horny, adolescent mind to grasp.

"Did that help?" I asked, with a smile.

"Yeah mom, you were amazing, I can't believe you did that!"

"If you're going to continue cumming on my clothes, you might as well use the expensive ones, and you might as well ruin them; it makes the whole act of emptying your balls so much more nasty, don't you think?"

"You actually want me to ruin some of your clothes?" he asked perplexed.

"Only if you feel like it." I replied. "I am just saying you can, if you want to!"

"O...okay." he stammered.

"Can you tell which clothes are expensive or dry-clean only?" I asked.

"I... I think so." he whispered as he got up, naked from the waist down, his half-hard cock dangling between his legs as he walked over to my wardrobe.

"This?" he asked, turning towards me.

"Spot on, that's my cocktail dress; dry-clean only and not very cheap... besides, because it's black, it will make your white cum stand out quite nicely." I replied.

After browsing a little more, he pointed another dress out, shorter this time, but laced with fake diamonds and turned to me for confirmation.

"Excellent choice." I said. "Slutty dress, rather expensive and because of the adornments nearly impossible to wash or to have cleaned."

After flawlessly pointing out a few more of my most vulnerable clothes, I noticed his cock jumping briefly up and down. Seeing how he had just cum, I disregarded it as a fiction of my overactive imagination and got up, saying:"One more thing..."

I walked over to the dresser and said:"I believe you're familiar with my underwear drawer."

"Vaguely." he replied as we shared a smile.

"You're off course welcome to use any bra or pair of panties you want, but might I recommend these..." I said, reaching in the back of the drawer, taking out a small pile of flimsy, bras and panties.

"... these are lace, they're very fragile and can only be washed by hand, in cold water: so, any cum stains on any of these will almost certainly be permanent." I said as if I was giving him normal information, exchanged between mom and son.

As he was looking at pile of lace undergarments in my hand, I saw his cock twitch and come to attention. I wasn't imagining anything; he was getting hard again!

He browsed through the pile and asked:"So, if I were to cum on any of these, they'd be ruined?"

"Well, technically they could still be saved if I washed the cum out of them right away." I replied. "So what I'd have to do is let them dry somewhere, so that your cock juice has a chance to really soak into the fabric and form a crust."

After hearing me say that, his hand instinctively gripped his hardening shaft and as he gawked at me with open mouth – not believing what he'd just heard – he started stroking on automatic pilot.

"Would you like to try it?" I asked, adding to his boiling lust.

"Fuck yeah." he grunted.

I selected a black, lace bra and put the rest of the pile away. Then I stepped back towards the bed and turned away from him as I took off my blouse and bra, before putting on the selected, expensive bra. After fixing the clasp, I turned back towards him, having deliberately denied him a view of my tits. He probably figured that I was a little shy about showing him my rack for the first time, as he didn't say anything. But when I started undoing my skirt, I could see the confusion in his eyes. After stepping out of my skirt and lowering my panties to expose my cunt to him once again, I could tell that his young brain was having difficulty with the contradiction displayed here: here I was, encouraging him to ruin an expensive bra and purposely not showing him my tits, while apparently not having any problem with showing him my moist cunt. As I got on my back on the floor, providing him with a clear view and shot to the bra in question, his stare was directed between my legs and it lingered there until he eventually felt ready to cum. Still clearly overwhelmed by the casual sluttiness displayed here, Malcolm stumbled over and dropped to his knees, right next to my almost naked body. After verifying his aim for just a second, he howled and arched his back, ejaculating fat ropes of cum all over the cups of my lace bra. As the last of his cum was drizzling out, soiling the last few clean areas on the fabric, I suddenly noticed something falling out of his pants pocket; a bottle of pills. I picked it up and read the label:"For bigger erections. For more and thicker sperm!"

So that's why his fifth load of the day was as juicy and as impressive as his first. I waited until he was done squeezing the last drops out of his tube onto my bra, then held up the bottle and asked:"When did you start taking these?"

"I've been taking them for months, about one a day." he replied, visibly annoyed.

"I see..." I whispered, just lying there, naked except for my cum drenched bra, looking up at him. It all suddenly made a lot more sense: why he wasn't in a hurry to find a job, why he was blowing wad after wad of thick cream all over the house!

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked carefully.

"Not one little bit." I replied, realizing that I was setting all kinds of bad examples.

"So now what?" he asked.

"Now..." I said as I rose to my feet and unclasped the bra.

"... we let it dry." I continued as I took it off – setting my titties free and showing them to him for the first time – and placed it on top of the nearby radiator.

"My god, your tits are huge!" he said as he stared at them blatantly.

Standing butt naked in front of my son, I whispered:"Thanks."

"I mean, really, really, big." realizing he wasn't paying me a compliment anymore.

"Thanks." I whispered, getting more than a little wet between my legs.

"They're so... fat and saggy!" Malcolm continued, turning a half-compliment into yet another degenerate little game.

"Yes, they are." I said, playing along.

"They look like cow udders." he said, still staring at them.

"Do you wanna wobble them up and down?" I asked lewdly, feeling my cunt tingle at his latest insult.

"Sure." he said as he took a step forward, placed his left hand under my massive right breast and started jerking and shuddering it around. A few seconds later, he placed his other hand under my left tit and did the same to that one. He played with them for several minutes, making them bounce and judder all over the place, occasionally even pulling one of my nipples; I just stood there, dripping, but not doing anything about it. I wanted to reach out and grab his massive cock so badly! I wanted to get on my back and have him pump his big dick into me as hard as he could, but I did nothing...

Eventually, he got bored and gave both my tits a good solid, demeaning slap before walking out of the room and heading downstairs, just like that! I thought about taking one of my dildo's out and jamming it up my twat, but I decided to practice restraint instead. I sat down on the bed and gathered my thoughts for about ten minutes, before getting dressed again – no bra this time – and heading down as well.

Jason came home from work later than usual, so dinner was a bit late as well. Considering the number of loads Malcolm had already squirted today, I figured he was pretty much spent. However, as I was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, I suddenly noticed him standing behind me, pumping his hard cock and ogling me.

"At it again?" I asked nonchalantly, without interrupting my work.

"Hang 'm out." he said.

"Sorry?" I asked, not realizing what he meant.

"Your tits; hang 'm out." he clarified.

I put down whatever I was holding and turned around, pulled the straps of my top down and hung both my big jugs over it. Without showing any other emotion than pure lust he kept tugging his big dick for several minutes, just drooling over my tits, hanging lewdly out in the open. Without much ado, he subsequently flung his cum onto the kitchen floor; nothing spectacular, just a few ribbons and some drops spread out over two or three tiles.

"You'll clean this up, right?" he said as he turned to walk away, about to stuff his cock into his boxers.

"Wait!" I said, a little louder than a whisper.

He froze and looked at me.

I signaled at his cock and said:"You need to wipe that off." referring to the residual glob of cum hanging from his cock head. "We don't want your father to find cum in your underwear, now do we?"

We both knew that Jason never touched his underwear, but Malcolm played along. "Mmm, you're right!" he said as he walked up to me, avoiding the tiles with cum on them.

"Skirt?" he asked as he raised his limp cock.

"Are you crazy? Your dad will notice... no, here." I said as I sank to my knees.

"Use my cheek."

Malcolm's eyes grew big and for a second I thought his cock was going to spring to attention again, but it didn't. He looked down at me, still not sure whether he had heard me correctly. But when I tilted my head the other way, presenting my cheek to him plain and clear, there was no longer any doubt in his mind. He pressed his cock head against my cheek and smeared the glob of cum open, drawing a watery line of cum across my cheek and nose. When there was no more cum to spread around, he let go of his cock and stepped back, looking at my still tilted face for a few seconds, before starting to leave.

"Don't forget to take your pills." I whispered right before he stepped out into the hallway. He stopped, turned and gave me a little arrogant smile as he looked me up and down in the most demeaning way!

I wiped his cum off my cheek and joined Jason in the living room, only to excuse myself as quickly as humanly possible. I spent the rest of the evening – until I heard Jason come up the stairs – on my back, with my legs in the air, jamming either a dildo or a couple of fingers up my twat. Although I had turned off the lights and pretended to be asleep by the time hubby came in, the whole room must have smelled like pussy. But except for opening up a window and getting into bed himself, he said or did nothing!

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous06/12/14

very good story

I agree that it was somewhat repetitive, but it just contributes to the nastiness of the story. It really does feed my own interests and fantasies and perhaps that's what really interested me. I lovemore...

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by MuskratSam11/20/13

Editor required?

I'm a professional editor. Now, I had other things than editing in mind when I read this, but it's difficult for me to turn off the Editor, and really, I didn't see anything much that needed fixing. Definitelymore...

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