A Futanari and Her Son's Girlfriend

This is the first story I've ever written and I would appreciate any feedback for my first submission.

All characters are fictional and over 18.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I heard the front door open and my son Josh talking to his girlfriend as they came into the house.

"Hey kiddo!" I called out from the kitchen, sticking my head around the wall. "Do you two want an after school snack? Pineapple was on sale at the store today."

Josh looked to Claire to answer the inquiry. "No thank you Mrs. T." She said quietly, keeping her head down and her bangs in front of her eyes. She was a polite girl and I generally liked her, but she was always very shy around me.

Claire had the thick rimmed plastic glasses that were popular these days - and as far from cool as you could get back when I was in high school. She kept her black hair shoulder length and the color of it contrasted sharply with her very pale complexion. The way she dressed made it impossible to tell her exact body-type and her outfit was definitely not chosen to accentuate her physical characteristics. She always wore baggy jeans and frumpy-looking hoodies, unlike most other high school aged girls that seemed to show off their legs and chest with short skirts and tank tops.

"No thanks, mom. We're just gonna head to my room and study for the math final coming up," Josh added.

"Ok sweetie, leave the door open," I replied. I remember when I was their age, and if my son is anything like I was, I definitely don't want to give him the privacy I'm sure he wants. Not that I was incredibly promiscuous, but the risk of getting caught by parents in the house always added an extra thrill that I was unable to resist. My boyfriend - and girlfriends - at the time certainly enjoyed my naughty streak.

"Sure thing, mom," he said, rolling his eyes, acting like I was being ridiculous with my suspicions.

I just smiled knowingly and watched them walk towards the back of the house and the bedrooms. Claire blushed while keeping her head down and followed Josh closely.

I should tell you about myself. My name is Nancy Thomas. Or Mrs. T. to all of Josh's friends. I'm tall for a woman at 5'10 and keep myself in pretty good shape for a 39 year old. I've got some (as my gynecologist Dr. Kelly Freeman describes me) killer curves with my 32F breasts. And all the squats and exercise I do contribute to my well defined rear and flat stomach.

I never could manage to to get the well defined abs of a true athlete though. Not that I minded that much - I think I look great in the mirror at 150lbs. An athletic hourglass figure. Think Christina Hendricks, but with short kinky blonde hair and long muscular legs.

Today, I was wearing a red plaid patterned golf skirt that stopped mid-thigh (it's almost impossible to find skirts that come down to my knees, being on the taller side) and a white, collared v-neck pullover blouse that showed off a healthy, but not indecent, amount of cleavage. The first thing I did when I got back from the store was to kick off my shoes, so I was barefoot in my kitchen.

I live alone with my eighteen year old son, Josh. My husband George has been deceased these last eleven years. A young nurse that had worked two doubles in a row and used adderall to keep her going made a boneheaded mistake after George had a routine surgery. It caused an embolism which lead to him dying of a stroke.

I was crushed when he died, but I did my best to hold it together for the sake of Josh. While I did sue the hospital, I couldn't find it in me to blame the nurse for her mistake. Nurses working conditions were abysmal back then - not that they've improved much - and she was just trying to make some extra cash to raise her own child.

The resulting malpractice suit and insurance pay-off from the hospital meant that we live a pretty comfortable - but not lavish - lifestyle. The interest and dividends mean that I don't have to work, but I spend most of my free time on my life's third love - golf. (George and Josh being one and two)

I give lessons at a country club that I'm a member of. It might not surprise you to find that a lot of rich guys are willing to pay $200 an hour to stare at a busty blonde wearing a golf skort and swinging a driver. What surprises them is that I'm a scratch golfer and actually give good lessons on how they can improve. They might come for my tits, but my regulars keep coming back because I help their golf game.

Funny enough, it was George that got me into golf. I'd never played before we met, but he played on his college team. When he introduced me to the sport, I thought it was ridiculous until I got to the putting green. As it turns out, I'm a natural and rarely miss a putt inside of 15 feet.

George cultivated my game, and I saw it as another opportunity to spend more time with him. In the process, I got very good and within a few years was giving him a run for his money. I don't think I would have ever started giving lessons if George hadn't died. When he was gone, you might think I'd give up golf because it reminded me of him, but it was just the opposite.

I played even more, because it reminded me of him.

With the settlement and not having to work, I spent most of my free time practicing, taking lessons, playing in tournaments, learning everything about the golf swing and in the process, learning how to teach it. George still inspires me to this day. He was truly one-of-a-kind.

Another reason I say he's one of a kind is because of how he responded to my "little" secret.

You see, I'm a futanari.

I don't mean that I'm unbelievably proportioned like you might see in those ridiculous "hentai" porn cartoons. Yes, I've got a large chest, but my cock isn't three feet long and I can't fill up a 10-gallon bucket with semen in a single orgasm from my monstrously large testicles.

Partially because I don't have any testicles and my ejaculate is clear. Kind of like when girls squirt, but it has a sweet taste and a little thicker consistency. It also doesn't have sperm, so I can't impregnate anyone.

I've got a pretty normal-looking vagina (in my opinion) with inner lips that poke out a tiny bit, but I have an overly large clitoris that's shaped like a tiny little dick. Think "micropenis". Except that when I get aroused, i can "allow" my clit-dick to swell to many times it's size. Just under nine inches, and thick enough my thumb and forefinger can barely touch when it's fully engorged.

I say allow because I can also control it and keep it the size of just a large clitoris. Though it starts to feel uncomfortable if I don't let it "out" every couple days, and I have to cum before it'll shrink back down.

Part of why I say George was one-of-a-kind is how he responded to finding out my secret. I hid the fact that I'm a futa from him when we started dating, but he caught me with my cock out one time when I was masturbating, and instead of being disgusted or freaked out, he was intrigued. That open-mindedness is part of what lead me to marry him.

Not that he was gay or bisexual. He said that it was just another part of me and he loved all of me - even if I had a dick that was bigger than his sometimes. (Not that he was small. He had a healthy eight inches that he used to great effect) He even let me fuck him in the ass a couple times, but admitted he wasn't that into it. Although I love being pounded in the ass.

He would however, give me head or handjobs nearly as often as I gave them to him. He liked to alternate between going down on me and making me keep my clit-shape - which makes it more sensitive - or giving me a blowjob. He was exceptional at both.

Knowing what it feels like to have a dick really improves your blowjob skills. Both mine and his.

These days though, blowjobs are few and far between. My aforementioned gynecologist is aware of my secret, and schedules me for checkups every three months under the pretense of keeping constant watch on my unique anatomy. While she does take care of my lady-bits as a doctor, she also loves the taste of my cum and to deepthroat my cock, and makes sure to wear a skirt for easy access on days I have an appointment.

She told me once she's not a lesbian, but loved the idea of fucking a medical marvel. And since the sex was only with my cock - she never touched my breast or pussy in a sexual manner - didn't think that counted as gay. I think it's a very gray area she's stumbled into.

Other than Dr. Freeman, I have the occasional casual fling, maybe once or twice a year with either men or women. When I have sex with women, I almost never let my cock out. Only rarely when I'm certain she can keep a secret. And I never take any of them to my house. I always wanted to keep that part of my life separate from Josh.

That is, until what happened on this day.

I stay active with social activities at the country club, and this weekend we were having a fundraiser for a local high school golf team. For my part, I was baking twenty dozen cookies of various types to sell to members and guests. I had gone to the grocery store for ingredients earlier, but just realized that I was going to be short on brown sugar. I'd thought I had more at home, but must have used it for another recipe and forgot I was running low.

I had enough to get started though, and I could send Josh to the store for more brown sugar while I continued baking.

I walked from the kitchen across the living room, and into the carpeted hallway that lead to our four bedrooms. Two of which we used as a home-gym and as an office. My master suite and office were at the end of the hallway, but Josh's room was the first on the left, across from the room we used as a gym.

The door was open like I asked, but only cracked enough to be able to argue it as a technicality. I slowed my approach when I heard a noise that didn't sound anything like paper rustling or book bags being moved about. Not that I was planning to peep on them if they were engaged in some sort of petting, but I also didn't want to embarrass shy young Claire.

What I found instead shocked me to my core.

Josh was naked from the waist down, having left on his t-shirt. Claire likewise was stripped down to a lacy black bra and matching lacy boyshorts.

I was shocked for several reasons. First, while Josh was somewhat on the skinny side (he played golf like me, not football), his cock was a mirror image of his father's. Eight inches long and thick, and currently, plunging in and out of Claire's throat while he held her head hostage.

Second, the baggy jeans and frumpy hoodies did a very good job of hiding a curvy, busty, pale beauty. Claire must have had DD's stuffed into that lacy bra. She also had thick muscular thighs - probably from her horseback riding - and a well-rounded bottom, framed wonderfully by her choice of undergarments. Like her hair, the black color of her lacy underwear contrasted with her milky white skin to show it off to great effect. Her stomach was flat, and I don't think anyone would describe her as fat, just curvy.

My third shock came when I went to open my mouth to object to everything that was happening. I'm not ignorant to kids these days and them being sexually active, but I couldn't condone this behavior while I was in the house.

Also, Josh was violently face-fucking Claire! While I enjoy that type of aggressive oral sex sometimes, I was going to have to have a long uncomfortable talk to him about respecting women.

My words died on my tongue however, when I noticed that Claire, far from objecting to this type of treatment, was using one hand to pinch her left nipple and the other was stuffed into her visibly soaked panties and moving rapidly. She was also making a "GLUCK GLUCK GLUCK" sound with every thrust of Josh's big cock. They couldn't have been at it for very long, but already she had saliva running down her face, dripping from her chin onto her chest, and plastered across her forehead and glasses.

The last part confused me until Josh pulled his cock out of her mouth and slapped her face and glasses with it a few times, trailing thick spit and spreading it across her visage, before resettling his grip in her hair and began thrusting his cock into her throat once again.

I had another shock when I realized that witnessing this act was causing a familiar tingling in my pussy and an uncomfortable swelling in my clit. The last time I saw my gyno was over two months ago and I hadn't had any action since then.

I resisted the urge to allow my clit to expand to its full size, but couldn't help moving my hand under my skirt and pressing my palm against my big clit and teasing my lips through the fabric of my bikini-style panties. There was already a growing wet spot.

I couldn't lust after my son! It was wrong! Even though he had a fabulous looking cock...

No! "Calm down," I told myself.

I removed my hand from beneath my skirt and turned back towards the living room. The "GLUCK GLUCK" sound continued faintly and was joined by a muffled moaning sound until I cleared the hallway. I couldn't believe they'd do that while I was just a few feet away, but I understood the thrill.

I told myself again that I shouldn't be lusting after Josh and his cock that reminded me so much of George's.

His girlfriend on the other hand... oh she was gorgeous. I imagined it was me that was holding onto her face and feeding her my massive cock while she fingered herself to orgasm. I'd love to plumb the depths of her eighteen year old pussy and stretch it to accommodate my generous length and girth. She would love the taste of my girl cum, just like me and all the other girls that have tasted it do.

I hadn't realized I had decided to act on my hastily thrown together plan until I was calling out to my son from the living room.

"Hey Josh, honey?" I said loud enough that they could hear me over the erotic sounds they were producing.

There was no immediate answer, but there was some audible shuffling and cursing.

"Josh, do you have a moment?" I said loudly again while walking towards the bedrooms, letting him hear that I was getting closer.

"Yeah mom, what's up?" He said, opening his door the rest of the way and stepping into the hallway, blocking my view of his room. Likely giving Claire a little more time to make herself presentable.

His face was flushed and he was breathing a little heavy. I could see the hint of a bulge in his pants, so he must not have been able to finish before I interrupted them.

"Aww, poor guy," I thought to myself with an evil grin.

"I thought I asked you to leave the door open? And are you wearing a different shirt?" I asked while raising an eyebrow.

"It was open!" He asserted. "And I changed shirts because it's hot outside and I was sweaty. Did you need something?" He said, trying to change the subject.

More likely he gave Claire his shirt as a quick towel to make her face presentable after being covered in saliva. I let it go but my expression told him I knew he was up to something.

"I know you're studying, but I need you to run to the store for me. The fundraiser is tomorrow and I need to keep baking. But, I need more brown sugar to finish all the batches I have planned."

"I thought you said you just went to the store today. You didn't get any?" He asked.

"I did," I replied. "But I thought I had more on hand than I do, and I need another package to meet my quota."

"Come on mom, we really need to study for this final. Can't you go back and get what you need?" He pleaded.

I had to give him credit. If I hadn't peeked in on them earlier, I wouldn't have thought anything was amiss. But I needed him to leave me alone with Claire if my plan was to have any chance of succeeding.

"You're a straight A student and you've helped your friends on the golf team with their math homework. You're telling me that you need to study to pass this final? I'll bet you could write that test."

"Well, maybe." He said with a sort of 'aww shucks' half smile. His expression turned pleading as he continued. "But Claire does need my help and I promised that I would make sure she got a good grade. It'll take us half an hour to go to the store and back. I don't want her to miss out on that much study time the day before the final."

He looked into his room while he said it, and I looked around the door frame to see Claire had put her frumpy outfit back on and had cleaned up any signs of their earlier activities. Her bookbag was open on the bed and she was seated at Josh's desk with a math book open in front of her.

"How about this then... Claire can stay here and keep studying while you run to the store. By the time you get back she'll have found some problems she needs help with and you can assist her then." I proposed. I leaned into his room and put Claire spot by saying, "That's okay with you, right Claire?"

"Umm, sure." She replied.

Josh looked torn, but couldn't really argue with my logic. If she really did need to study as badly as he claimed, then he had no reason this arrangement wouldn't work.

"Well, okay... I guess if you're fine with it..." He said hesitantly, looking at his girlfriend.

She gave him a little nod and turned towards her open textbook.

"Great! It's settled. I need you to run and grab another 32oz. bag of brown sugar. Don't get the cheapo brand, but it doesn't matter which one other than that."

"Okay. I'll be back in about a half hour, I guess." He said, defeated. He grabbed his car keys and headed out the front door.

I walked back towards the kitchen, trying to decide the best way to go about this.

Maybe I should just expose my cock to her and hope she's still gagging for it. Based on how wet she was before I interrupted them, her pussy must still be on fire and aching for some more action.

Maybe she's going to masturbate in Josh's room while he's gone. That would be ideal, and I can just catch her and offer to help. I'd never rape the girl, but I'll bet with a little persuasion she'd be willing to do anything I wanted.

I snuck back and peeked into the room one more time, but her nose was buried in her math book. Damn.

Should I confront Claire about what she was doing with my son, and more or less force her into performing for me? She was quiet and judging by the way he was treating her, sexually submissive. If I asserted dominance, she may very well give in to my desires.

My panties were soaking wet at this point, trying to decide what to do. And my clit was throbbing uncomfortably. Normally I jerk off in the shower in the morning so the pressure doesn't build too much day to day, but I had an early playing lesson on the course and didn't get the opportunity.

I stripped off my panties there in the kitchen, and lifted up skirt to watch. I "let go" of the muscle that keeps my clit from turning into a cock. That's how I think of it. To me it feels like I always have to maintain a little bit of pressure to keep it subdued. Kind of like holding your head up, every day. You hardly notice the effort until you let your head lay down on a pillow and your neck is tired.

I watched as my clit pulsed and started swelling up. It really did look like a very tiny penis that was becoming erect, but instead of growing a couple inches and topping out, it just kept growing. And pulsating, and growing. Until it was the full nine inches and hard as a rock. Velvet covered steel.

There was no going back now. I had to cum before I could get my dick to resume its former shape as a large clit instead of a massive cock.

I let go of my skirt and it tented lewdly out in front of me. My thighs were wet and sticky from my pussy juice, and I took a moment to raise my cock - oh that feels good - and slide a finger into my soaked tunnel.