Lessons with Mom Ch. 01

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Sandra raises the idea of sex ed with her son.
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I had just arrived home from college for Easter. I was my first time back for quite a while. I pressed the doorbell and heard it ring throughout the house. A moment later my father, Scott, opened the door.

'Hi there', he said gruffly, shaking my hand. Behind him in the hallway was my mom, Sandra. 'Great to see you,' she said as I walked through the door. She gave me a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.

My parents had married and had children quite young; dad had just turned 40 and my mom was 38. They were both in pretty good shape. Mom was slim, with small boobs and a small bum, but great legs. My friends had always thought she was pretty hot. I remember feeling the same way as a horny teenager. She kept her pubic hair neatly trimmed into a little strip. I knew that because I had seen her in the shower from time to time when I was growing up.

We were not a nudist family, or anything like that, but occasionally she would forget to replace the towels in the bathroom. She'd then call out to me to come and bring her a new towel, and I would happily oblige. Who could resist an opportunity to see a naked woman in real life and not just on the Internet? I'd sit on the edge of the bath and chat to her while she toweled herself off. First, her back; then arms, softly across her chest and stomach, along her legs and then, finally, between her legs with a gentle sawing motion that caressed her pussy. My favorite part was at the very end, when she would turn away and bend over to pick up the bath mat. I had a glorious view of her thin pussy slit between puffy cheeks, and a cute, round and slightly open asshole. It was only much later that I realized this to be a sure sign of a woman who loved anal penetration. But we'll get to that later.

That night we all sat down to a great dinner and caught up on what had been happening over the past few months. The alcohol was flowing freely and we were all pleasantly drunk by the time we went to bed. I was just about asleep when I heard a familiar noise. I sat up and listened intently. There it was again. Mom sighing softly. I knew I was in for an aural treat: a drunken fucking session involving my parents. Mom had a tendency to be a bit 'noisy', especially after a few drinks. I had lost count of the times that I had heard her enjoying herself. Feeling pretty horny this time, I snuck out into the hallway for closer listen. Mom's sighs got louder as she gave dad instructions: "Just there Scott; now slower, harder'. Dad was obviously doing a great job of eating her pussy because the sighs turned into short sharp squeals, ending in a high pitched 'fuuuuck'.

Silence.

Now, if things went according to the usual plan, they would start fucking. Right on cue, I heard some rustling and then the slow creak of bed springs. The creaking got faster, punctuated by grunts and the sound of bodies slapping together. A pause, more rustling and then the sounds resumed again with the creaking even louder. Dad must have been fucking her doggy style against the bedhead, I thought. It wasn't long before mom started squealing again. Dad emitted a loud grunt and the sounds stopped. I heard mom laugh and say: 'well, you really filled me up, honey.'

I knew from experience that at this point one of two things might happen. Either they would start fucking again or mom would come out to the bathroom to clean off and then go to bed. I snuck back into my room, which was just as well because it seemed that this was the end of the excitement for the night. I heard mom's footsteps along the corridor reach the bathroom, which was just opposite my bedroom. The door opened and closed and I could hear her cleaning up and the toilet flush. Then the buzz of the electric toothbrush. But, oddly, the buzz didn't stop. After about five minutes, I could hear mom breathing deeply and moaning. I realized that she must have been using her vibrator; dad had not done the job properly.

By this point my balls were ready to burst. I pulled my cock out of my pants and began masturbating furiously while listening to mom in the bathroom. I came just before she did, in a huge burst that created a mess on the sheets. I rolled over from the 'wet patch', as far as I could, and went to sleep.

The next morning I peeled myself off my sheets (my evasive maneuvers had not been as effective as I had hoped) and wandered down to breakfast feeling well rested. Dad had already left for work, mom was sitting down reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. She looked up.

'Sleep well?'

'Like a baby,' I replied.

I fixed myself some breakfast and we began to chat more about my time at college. After asking me about my courses and professors, she said, casually:

'So, any romances I should know about?'

'Mom!' I exclaimed.

'There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You can tell me whatever you want. I'd like us to be able to talk openly about this stuff,' she responded.

'Well,' I began cautiously, 'I've had a few dates here and there, but nothing special.'

'And by 'dates', do you mean 'sex'?' mom asked pointedly.

I rolled my eyes. 'Mom, I know that everyone thinks college is some big sex-fest, but it actually isn't. The girls go for all the jocks, and if you're not one of them, then you go home alone.'

Mom looked sympathetic. 'I know what it is like with girls that age' she said. 'So, you are still a virgin'. It was a statement, not a question.

I blushed and avoided her gaze.

'There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, honey,' she said quietly. 'It happens for different people at different times'. She then laughed.

'In fact, the older I get, the more like a virgin I feel'.

I looked at her sharply.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, without going into details, let's just say that your father and I haven't been doing much in the bedroom lately'.

I was so shocked by mom's frankness that I could not help blurting out:

'It didn't sound like that last night'.

Mom's face flushed red and she looked down at her coffee.

'It's OK mom. I couldn't help but hear. But you know this happened quite a bit when I was growing up. I'm not bothered by it.'

I couldn't add the truth: 'And by the way, I wacked off listening to you last night'.

She took a deep breath, looked up, and smiled. 'Fine. It is a bit embarrassing to know your child has heard you have sex, but, as you say, it is perfectly natural. I'm glad we can be this frank with each other.'

Her face brightened. 'I've just had an idea. How about I give you a head massage like old times.'

In my teenage years I had occasionally suffered severe headaches, verging on migraines. Painkillers did little to help but I found that a strong head massage would relieve some of the discomfort. Mom was my masseuse. It became a habit of ours, even after the headaches had stopped. I would lie on the couch and she would massage my head, while we chatted about random stuff.

'Sounds great,' I said. We cleaned up breakfast and went to the living room.

Mom sat down at one end of the couch and I stretched out lengthways, my head in her lap and my feet dangling over the end. She began to apply pressure around my temples, rubbing in a circular motion.

'That feels fantastic,' I told her, 'I've really missed this.'

'Just relax and enjoy it' she said.

Her fingers hit all the right pressure points and I slipped into a pleasant drowsiness. I thought about what had happened last night and I was acutely aware of mom's physical presence. I cracked my eyes open and I could see the swell of the underside of her petite breasts. I could feel her warmth on the back of my head, as it rested between her legs. I knew where some of that warmth came from.

'OK. Change position' she ordered. She rolled me onto my side, so that my face was now pointing below her navel. Overlaying her normal body smell was a deeper, distinctive musk. She shifted position slightly by widening her legs. My head dropped further, so that my nose was now rubbing against her body through her dress, only a few inches above her pussy. I kept breathing as quietly as I could, taking in that delicious aroma.

She resumed the massage. After a few minutes more, she said hesitantly:

'You know, I have an idea...'

'What?' I prompted.

'Well, maybe your father and I should give you some tips on what to do with a girl when things get physical.'

'Mom!' I yelled, 'That's gross'. Secretly, I was turned on.

'No – hear me out. I know we gave you some books and an educational video, but it is not the same as seeing the real thing.'

'Sure, mom,' I said, 'So what? You're going to show me a porno?'

'No,' she replied. 'I want you to see sex between real people, not fake sex between actors. I want to you watch us.'

I was quiet. The idea of seeing her gorgeous body in the throes of passion got me instantly hard, but I still couldn't quite believe it.

'You can't be serious,' I said. 'How do you feel about that? How does dad feel about that?'

'Well, you've heard us having sex a lot, so looking can't do any harm. Your father doesn't need to know, anyway. I'll arrange it for sometime in the next couple of nights. I'll give a signal and make sure I leave the door open, so you can watch.'

'That will be interesting,' was all I could say. Mom looked down the couch, towards the obvious bulge in my pants, and moved her eyes back to me. 'Well, I think part of you thinks it will be more than interesting! Right. This massage is over for today'.

To be continued.....

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11 Comments
swfb70swfb70about 1 year ago

wow one chapter from 2013- it was a great start-

AnonymousAnonymousabout 3 years ago
Fortunately, I read the comments first....

Then saved myself the time and moving on, to the next story.

🤣🙏🙏🤣

raretoastraretoastover 7 years ago

Are you going to finish the story?

AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
.

Another LAZY author who uses apostrophe's instead of quotation marks for dialog. Pure laziness.

Ian SinclairIan Sinclairover 10 years ago
To be continued.... (not!)

The thing about a story with a "to be continued...", it never is. It's a tool that authors use when they're too darn lazy to finish a story, and are impatient to get feedback with what they've written so far. Shame really. Oh well, this comment isn't quite finished, 'to be continued...'

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