Tell Mommy What You Want

He eased back finally, his uninjured leg cocked up at the knee to mask his predicament.

"Carol told me you have it when she's doing her work with you. I don't want you to be embarrassed, Ryan. It's natural. ...Did she ever say anything about it?"

He shook his head absently, looking like he wished he could crawl under the bed and hide.

"So, come on, why do you like her?" I said, popping a light punch into his shoulder.

"She, um..."

"She's very pretty."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Her breasts aren't that big, do you like that?"

He nodded, then nodded again, just faster.

"Little breasts," I mused, edging my butt more securely onto the bed. "Which other ones do you like?"

"Her, the one here with..."

He'd been flipping down the pages for another model when I reached down and lightly brushed my fingertips along the outlined shaft of his penis, just as I'd been doing in my mind the previous night, an imagined touch that dropped me into a truly shattering climax.

Ryan jumped at the sensation, the shock of it etched over his boyish features. I brushed my fingers along the full length of it then, deliberate, leaving no doubt as to whether I'd intended it.

"Jeez, Mom, he gasped, squirming away as best he could with a leg anchored in a twenty-pound plaster cast.

I reached and again touched him, this time just settling my palm there.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"I..."

I started stroking him through the sheet in earnest, very lightly at first, then quickening, hearing his breathing thicken...he was staring at my working hand now, the practiced slide, the way I adjusted so as to grasp him fully, feeling the surprising heft of his tool. Not even a minute...

"Aughhh... "

Ryan's face was contorted, eyes shut. I knew he was coming, the frenzied throb as he ejaculated into the folds of cotton, the sudden wetness seeping beneath my palm. I released him then, stunned a bit that I'd actually done it, seeing him open his eyes and look at me in an uncomprehending way. I simply got up and left the room, flustered, knowing that he had to be freaking. I didn't care, I had to go. I had to go downstairs, away from him. I went out into the garage and there, without preamble, pulled my slacks down around my ankles and leaned against the wall, one hand for support, one hand curling around my vagina...I was very wet, warm slickness on my digits as I found that delicious little nub, ten seconds tops and I screamed when it hit, weeping gasps as I furiously jacked my index finger over it again and again, the orgasm flaring like an inferno against my eyelids.

I lay there for several minutes afterwards and then calmly got up, pulling up my slacks and smoothing myself out. I was shaking with the residual adrenalin, but I felt no guilt, even though I knew I should. I went into the kitchen and sliced an apple into six wedges, carefully cutting away the core before arranging them on a small plate with a clump of white grapes. I brought the plate upstairs and knocked on his door jam.

"Snack?"

Ryan didn't answer, he was befuddled, agitated. He couldn't look at me.

"I'm sorry I shocked you," I said, coming into the room and putting the plate on his night stand. "Did you like it?"

No answer. I honestly don't think he could've answered if he wanted.

I went to the bathroom and put a wash cloth under the warm water, ringing it dry.

"Here, let me clean you up," I said, attempting to pull back the sheet, only to have him yank it back to his chest.

"Ryan, I'm sorry if I upset you. I just know..."

I stopped myself from talking and put the dampened cloth on the sheet.

"I'll let you alone for a while. I just know you're frustrated and lonely up here and if I...if I can help you like that, then I'll do it. You just have to ask. That's why I gave you the books. ...Wash up and eat the fruit. ...I love you, you know that don't you. I just want you to be happy."

I left him and didn't go back up till dinner, which I left him eat alone. Other than to say goodnight, I stayed away from him for the rest of that day.

I knew I had to let him ask for it...actually that was an integral part of the fantasy for me. I made myself hold myself back from it. I honestly think I was ready to crack up that first day with the anticipation.

Two days it took. Two whole days where I pretended like nothing had happened. If he spoke ten words to me I was lucky.

__________________

"How was everything," I asked, bending over to fix his pillow. Carol had just left and I was just making sure he was comfortably settled.

"Good."

"Okay, then you rest awhile and I'll..."

"Mom..."

"What?"

"I..."

I felt a delicious chill course though my veins. "You can ask me, Ryan. I told you that."

"Do you want to..."

"Do you want me to? If you do, just ask."

"Will you..."

My son's voice was shaky and intimidated.

"Will I jerk you off?" I laughed...surprised at how relaxed I was with it, a refreshingly girlish lilt to my voice.

I left the room and came back with a bottle of baby oil. I put the bottle down and reached for the sheet, only to have him clutch it tightly.

"Ryan, let it go. Just lay back and relax."

I flipped the sheet away...my son was dressed in running shorts and a tee shirt, his hardness already evident. "Take off your shirt'" I said, as I reached down and started the arduous task of pulling the shorts down over the casted leg. He again tried to stop me but one look silenced him and he wordlessly pulled the tee up over his head. He had a beautiful young body, smooth and firm, slender, the perfect proportion of litheness and muscle. His cock was rigid, straight and thick. I realized I hadn't seen it since...it was so long, and now it was erect and hard in anticipation of my touch.

"Relax," I said again, climbing onto the bed with him, feathering my fingers over his silken chest, staring into his eyes as the excitement heightened. I reached across him and took a squirt of oil into my palm and quickly slathered his penis, roiling my palm as I slid up and down its length.

He reached over and brushed my breast...I immediately pulled away, shaking my head, my turn to be flustered. That was some type of line there, wasn't it. He did it again, and I pulled back further. "Don't do that."

Ryan was cowed with the words and I settled into my rhythm again, sensuous, loving...again he "brushed" my left breast. I stopped and pulled back. Why not, I thought.

"Should I take this off?"

No answer.

"Tell me to do it and I will."

"Take it off," he stammered. "...I want you to."

I knelt up, wiping the oil from my palm and pulling the blouse from along my waist. I worked the buttons rapidly and shucked it off my back.

I reached behind and unhooked my brassiere, the straps drooping at my shoulders. I have large breasts, thick nipples, areolas the size of silver dollars. I was always self conscious of them, embarrassed by the attention they drew, and now that they'd settled more than a bit with my forty-years of earthly gravity, I was genuinely worried he wouldn't like them. "I'm warning you, these aren't as nice as the girls in your magazine. ...You take it off, okay?"

I squared my shoulders and let him slip the lace cups away from me. He grinned and I found myself deeply pleased to be looked at like this. I took his uninjured hand after a moment and brought it up to my left breast, a jolt as he touched it, my nipples were hardened. Ryan sat up and caressed them, unsure of himself.

"You can suck on them," I whispered hoarsely, thinking lewdly that he'd done that so many times before...so long before, the weight of milk pulling them down along my ribcage. He brought his head up and suckled a nipple, first one then the other, tender, as if afraid to hurt me. "Bite down on them soft, baby," I moaned, closing my eyes to the unexpected pleasure of it.

I had to end this now, I thought, reaching down and again taking his cock in my hand, manipulating it faster now, quickening as he continued to suck at my tits. Then that grunt, a choked rasp, the indescribable sensation as his semen began to splatter over me, viscous threads flaying over my exposed belly with each frenzied thrust into my fist.

And then the crash that sent him collapsing back onto his pillow, hiding his face from me.

Without a word I cleaned us both up and then lay alongside him...his naked body, the penis shrunken, me stripped to the waist, my breasts pressed against him.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said after a moment. My heart sank.

"If you don't want to, we won't." I whispered and slowly got up from the bed, standing over him for a long moment, bared from the waist, my tits pulling down along my chest. "I'll do whatever you want me to do. ...Anything at all, all you have to do is ask. It is just for now though, just for while you're stuck up here like this. ...I want to make you feel better." Then thinking of it, I added. "...I like doing it."

The next day I waited for Richard to leave, watching his car disappear down the street. It wasn't even six o'clock yet. I hadn't slept well again and was exhausted. "Anything you want." The words kept sparking through my mind, the way I'd said them, the import of it.

"Mom."

It started when he yelled, a twinge of pleasure radiating from deep within my pelvis.

"What?" I said before I even got to his door.

"Are you sure it's okay? I mean with..."

"It's okay, baby. It's just for a little while, so it's okay."

"I..."

"What do you want?"

"Well, like yesterday..."

"For me to jerk you off," I asked.

Ryan nodded.

"I said you can have anything you want, Ryan. Are you sure all you want is that," I asked, miming a fast hand-job with a wiggle of my wrist. "...Why don't you think about it and then after breakfast, you can tell me if you want something else. ...Don't be afraid to ask, okay."

I showered after dropping off Ryan's cereal and juice. I kept thinking of what it was I was doing here. What consequences would there be...even if it all stayed a secret, like it should. The words echoed through my head. ...anything you want ...anything you want ....anything you want...

"Ryan..."

"Mom..."

He'd pulled himself up into a sitting position and was waiting. I was dressed in a short silk robe that I'd had for a good ten years and had worn maybe twice.

"Now tell me what you want, baby."

"I..."

"You have to say it," I said, stepping in front of the bed and undoing the cinched knot securing the robe. "...Do you want to see me naked?"

"Yeah," he whispered shakily.

"Then say it. Tell me to strip for you."

"Strip...strip for me."

I took a step back and let the robe slip off my shoulders. I was nude beneath and had shaved my legs that morning in the shower. I thought I looked pretty good and his smile said I was right in that opinion. I was five-foot-ten, and held myself on the thin side, which for a mid-aged lady with rather large breasts is saying something. I'd looked at myself in the mirror that morning. My dark hair was cut short and there were the first streaks of gray in it, my face had just a few wrinkles.

With a bit of drama I climbed atop the bed and drew the sheet aside. Ryan was naked, he'd struggled from his shorts on his own. I crawled up across his body, seeing the litany of names etched into his cast, feeling the wetness between my legs.

Straddled atop him, I bent and offered him my lips, by tits swaying free beneath me, the stiffened nipples incredible against his bare chest.

"Kiss me," I whispered, closing my eyes, rewarded with a light brush of his lips across mine. "Have you ever kissed a girl before," I asked gently. He nodded. "...I mean really kissed?" I went on, lowering my face to his, ardent now, pressing my mouth to his, feeling his shyness melt, then the touch of his tongue. I crushed my full weight down atop him, passion flooding as my lips intertwined with his, tongues swirling wildly.

"I want to suck your cock," I blurted, instantly embarrassed by the coarse sound of it. "...Tell me to suck it, Ryan."

"Suck it," he wheezed.

I kissed a path down his chest, across his muscled belly, dragging a nipple across the vein tangled underside of his penis, feathering it with my lips, taking his entire length into my mouth with one dip of my head. My son gasped and stiffened...I was sucking him, that smooth silken feel of a man's cock like nothing else, scrapping my teeth lightly as I'd lift, retching as he touched the back of my throat, never breaking eye contact with him, even as he put a palm to my forehead to shove me down further on it.

"Don't come yet, baby," I muttered breathlessly, wondering what it must be like for him to be watching his otherwise reserved and demure mother with his cock buried in her mouth. "I'll let you fuck me if you want. Is that what you want?"

He nodded, reaching down to caress my cheek with a meld of lust and genuine caring that I'd never before experienced.

"Tell me that's what you want. Tell me to do it. ...I want to fuck you, baby. I wanna be your first. ...Tell me that it's okay. Please tell me to."

He couldn't get the words out. I lifted my pelvis up and straddled him, reaching down to guide his thick bulbous head into my body. The feeling as I lowered my weight onto it was indescribable; the burn that always accompanied penetration for me, then that exquisite rush of sensation along the length of my spine. I tilted my head back and let out a deep groan, a throaty purr as I started to ride it, my palms rested on his sternum, my body lolling as I moved up and down, growing quite frenzied now...Ryan was coming, his fingers clutching the sheets, a shout through clenched teeth. I could feel the pulsing as my son pumped his seed deep inside me, and then my own climax hit, a wrenching, vicious thing that ripped across my abdomen, wave after wave even as I felt his hardness break within me. I realized I was shrieking then, bucking down on him harder as one orgasm ripped into the next.

I opened my eyes after what had to have been several minutes, my body absolutely spent, collapsed atop my son's, my lust crumpled, my gaze unfocused, a sheen of cooling sweat between us.

"That was so good," I whispered, kissing his chest, tasting the salt on his skin.

I waited a few more minutes and at last lifted myself off him. He smiled shyly, as I looked down at the crawly trail of sperm dripping along my inner thighs.

"Are you okay?"

I nodded and grinned. "You came a lot," I said vacantly, wiping up a bit of the opaque liquid with my fingertips.

Ryan started to look away, but I put my fingers to his chin and made him look back at me.

"We'll do it as much as you want while you're laid up like this. Every day if you want, okay, maybe twice a day. ...Anything you want to do with me. Anything at all, baby."

He nodded.

But when you're better, we stop. ...Agreed?"

Again that nod.

I grinned and leaned in to kiss him lightly on the forehead.

"Don't go," he said.

I saw that his teenaged dick was already stiffening. This was gonna be a busy couple weeks, I thought wickedly as I bent to take him into my mouth again.

_________________

And it was; five more weeks till he was partially mobile. We messed around every single weekday in one way or another, often twice a day, with a few three-timers thrown in for good measure. It was the most wildly erotic time in my life.

I was forty-two years old and I permitted my teenage son to violate me in virtually every way he could. I swallowed his sperm in more mouthfuls than I can remember, coolly instructed him in the reciprocal art of cunnilingus, where he proved himself a true savant, a novice maestro who reduced me to a humping machine riding my pussy down upon his eager face. On one memorably wanton afternoon, sparked by an innocent query as to my own "first time," I rabidly described nearly every sexual interlude I'd ever experienced, the words spilling out in a torrent, fueled by the all too evident effect they had upon his youthful libido, grinding my cunt down on his cycling tongue as I spewed forth on raw backseat fucks and even a particularly rough three-way that an old college boyfriend had argued my into. I could share it all with him I felt, and the effect was so intensely liberating, a perverse tumble into carnal bliss.

It was the best time in my life sexually.

And when he was finally off the crutches, the leg able to bear weight at last, I put on the brakes.

I explained that that was what we'd agreed to, that we had to stop. Ryan was disbelieving at first, then turning moody and hurt as he realized how determined I was. On my own side, I was moody and nuts.

We made it to almost eight months; eight utterly miserable months.

I'd had an in-service day at school and was preparing for the end of my semester. It was maybe two when I got home and Richard was out of town on business. I wasn't too happy about being home alone with my own son at that point, as I'd had to rebuff several increasingly overt passes from him over the interceding time period...and to be honest, the "rebuffing" was getting increasingly harder for me to pull off. I thought about it all the time. I missed it so much it physically hurt.

"Ryan," I yelled as I came into the living room.

"Here," he answered dully, sitting in and armchair at the far corner...how hadn't I seen him there.

"How was your..."

Ryan reached over and deliberately pressed a button on our answering machine. Richard's voice, still in Atlanta, a hurried message about the negotiations dragging out and his having to stay there through the weekend...three extra days minimum, saying he'd call me later that night.

Ryan clicked it off. "Looks like we have ourselves a long weekend."

"Ryan..."

My son stood up and without another word pulled off his shirt. He'd bulked up in the school weight room since his making recovery, and was maybe an inch or two taller.

"Ryan, stop..."

He shook his head and started to pull off his jeans. The living room curtains were opened wide, cars passing up and down the street in the late afternoon sun. His erection was jacked threateningly against his briefs.

"Ryan..."

He stared at me as he slid them off, his cock springing up at a brazen angle.

"People can see you," I blurted angrily, moving across the room to draw the drapes. He caught me from behind just as I got my hand on the cord, spinning me hard against the wall and pressing me up tight with his nude body, trying to kiss me.

"No," I shouted, pushing him off me with more anger than I knew I felt...what was I so angry about.

He reached out and fingered the top button on my blouse open. I swatted his hand away and started to redo it.

"You know you want it."

"Don't say that. Don't talk to me like that."

"What, are you getting it from someone else now?" he said acidly.

I hit him across the face as hard as I could, tears spring to my eyes. "Don't say that to me," I screamed.

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"Mom...god, do you hear how that fucking sounds. ...We can't do this, baby. We can't. ...I'm sorry I hit you, but we can't."

Ryan reached up and again undid the button on my blouse. I pushed him back...forgetting now that we were standing there in front of that damned picture window with anybody you could imagine strolling by.

"I said no."

Ryan hesitated a moment and then did something that floored me. He stepped up and with one forceful motion ripped my blouse open to the waist, buttons flying, piling me back into the wall again as he tugged it down along my shoulders, even as I started to desperately pry his hands away.

"No..."

I was sprawled on the hardwood floor instantly; Ryan wrestling down atop me, frantically pulling my black brassiere and lace-capped slip down below my breasts, a young bull now, wild in the eyes as he bunched the knee-length skirt up over my waist, my own body responding as if despite itself, that warm spreading sensation below my naval, his flesh on fire as he pressed his full body weight down upon me, anchoring my face as he clamped his lips across mine, pressing our mouths together until any vestige of resistance melted and I was kissing him back, my hands roaming his body, stoking that tautly muscled ass of his...