A Perfect Cock Ch. 03

His cock stirred in his pants, and he took a seat, pouring himself a glass from the pitcher on the table, before she noticed his semi. He forced himself to smile and meet her eyes before he sipped from the glass. He couldn't read her expression. The orange juice tasted like ash in his mouth.

She regarded him for a moment, then smiled brightly. "Well?"

He looked at her blankly. Surely she couldn't be talking about what had happened last night. There was no way she'd bring that up - especially at the dining table, and during breakfast. "Well...?"

She looked at him again, then giggled slightly. "Well, sleepyhead, you have any plans today?"

He slumped down slightly as the tension melted away from his body. "Oh, yeah. Maybe I'll go meet up with Chase again. We have so much to do."

He took another sip of orange juice. It was easier the second time. His mom wasn't about to grill him. Life was good. The juice tasted like something this time - like salvation, like life.

She looked back down at her phone, then back up at him. "Bit early to be headed out, don't you think?" She paused, sipping from her own glass. "Why don't you stay in for a bit, stick around the house for a while?"

"I think I'll just head out now," he answered quickly. He wasn't about to test his luck by staying around for any longer than he needed to. He already had enough to think about without his mother acknowledging the actions of the night before. He started to get up from his chair, draining the last of his orange juice and setting the glass down on the counter.

"Not so fast, young man," his mom said, putting her phone down on the counter. Face down, the back looking up to the sky. Uh oh. This was serious.

He sank down slowly into his chair, looking at the table, at her phone, at his hands. At anything but her.

"We need to talk about last night."

He slunk down into his chair, sweat beading on the back of his neck. His heart dropped as he stared at the table, unable to meet his eyes now.

She spoke again, gentler than now. "Jacob, look at me."

He shut his eyes tightly, breathing hard, then looked up at her. He almost felt like a kid again, instead of a strapping young adult. The smile was still on her face, but softer now, not as bright. Not the stern look that she had on her face when she was about to lay into him.

"I - I'm sorry," he said. Now that he had started, the words started to rush out. He planted his hands on the table. "I didn't mean to - I really didn't. It was just there, and I swear I wasn't planning on doing anything, but it was so hard to ignore, and then you came in, and - "

He buried his face in his hands, unable to even keep his eyes open at all now. "I'm sorry," he said again, his voice breaking slightly. Jacob valued lots of things in his life, but foremost amongst those was his relationship with his mother, with his father. He couldn't bear ruining that, and all for a moment of horniness.

The silence stretched, seemingly forever. Then he felt her cool hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears that were starting to form there.

"It's alright," she said softly.

He couldn't believe what he had heard, but she said it again, wiping away the wetness from his other cheek. "It's alright."

He cracked open his eyes, looking at her. She was still smiling at him, a motherly sort of smile that she used whenever she used to soothe him after he scraped his knees or fell down the stairs or hit his head as a kid. The kind of smile that made him feel all warm inside. "It - it is?"

"Of course it is." She gently placed his arms on the table, away from his face. He let her pose him like a mannequin. "It's only natural. Really, it's my fault."

"What?" he exclaimed, shocked. "No, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have done what I did. It was wrong - "

"Jacob," she said, cutting him off sharply. "No more of that. It really is natural."

He looked at her fully now. "You're... you're not mad?"

She laughed at that, her hand covering her mouth as she stared at him, eyes full of mirth. "Mad?" Her tone was amused, ridiculing the very idea. "How could I ever be mad?"

He was lost. "Well, I was, you know..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

She shrugged, taking another sip from her glass. "Well, I did leave that dildo out where anyone could see, didn't I?" She said the word smoothly, like any other, but it reverberated in his skull. Dildo. Such a nasty word, a dirty word, a delicious word. It brought back images of what he had seen last night, a slideshow, a flipbook in his head of memory after memory.

She continued talking. "I shouldn't have done what I did. You were just doing what any young man your age would do." She put down her glass now, taking hold of both his hands in her small ones. "I take full responsibility. Really." She looked him directly in the eyes. "You did nothing wrong."

He looked at her, even more bewildered now. "So I'm not in trouble?"

"Of course you're not in trouble," she said. "But we do still need to talk."

The sense of loss and anguish disappeared in his heart, replaced by a sense of unease. "We do?"

She nodded, leaning back. It was her turn to look uneasy now. "What happened wasn't unnatural, and will probably happen again."

He shook his head furiously. "No, Mom, I promise. It won't, I won't let it - "

She cut him off with a severe look. "Jacob, don't you dare lie to your mother. Are you telling me you're never going to masturbate again?"

Masturbate. She sounded out each syllable in such a delicious way, her lips forming the sounds that he heard and her mouth making the noises. More images flashed through his mind. Her dildo on the ground. His hand around his cock. Her, with the dildo doing things that no son should imagine of his mother. Such naughty things, things that involved those lips of hers - the top set that spoke to him, and the bottom set that called to him. His cock swelled in his pants, and he shifted in his seat.

His mom took his silence for agreement. "That's what I thought. Now, while you use our bathroom, I expect that we're probably going to run into similar situations again."

He gaped at her. "You're going to leave your toy out all the time?" He couldn't bring himself to say the word. Dildo. Not in front of his mother. Not yet.

She swatted his arm, her eyes narrowing. "Gods, no. I meant you in the shower, and me seeing, well, what I saw." She gestured towards the table, at him. At the part of him that was under the table. At his cock. His cock swelled up a little farther, filling with blood.

"With one bathroom, I'm guessing that you're going to need to use it when I'm showering sometimes, and I might need to use it when you're showering," she continued. "Now, it would be a lot less awkward if we could acknowledge that now instead of running into another situation like yesterday."

"Mom, I mean it. I won't do it again. You can use the bathroom in peace."

She laughed again, a twinkling sound that matched her eyes. "That's still a lie, and you know it. I don't care if you take care of your business in my shower. I just meant that there are some rules that come along with you using our shower in the first place."

"Like?" he asked.

"Well, first off, no locking the door. I know you didn't yesterday, but I'm just making sure. If I need to use the bathroom, I better not pee my pants waiting for you to unlock the door for me."

He smiled faintly at the thought of his mother banging on the door while jumping up and down, trying not to pee herself. "That goes both ways, doesn't it?"

She nodded again. "Of course it does." She held up two fingers. "Number two, if you're going to finish in the bathroom, you have to clean it up yourself."

His cheeks reddened at that. "I can't believe we're having this conversation right now, Mom."

Alice flushed slightly at that. No wonder, given the topic at hand. Never in a million years did he think he would be discussing masturbation etiquette with his mom. "I'm just making sure," she said, slightly breathy. She took a deep breath. "Three, no more toys in the shower. At least no leaving them there. I don't want to know what kind of toys you're using."

"MOM!" His face went completely red at that. Her face remained stoic for a moment longer, but then she broke. She doubled over, laughing at him, and held up her hands.

"I'm just making sure!"

"Well, I already know what kind of toys you use," he shot back, "And I'm sure there are more where those came from."

Almost immediately, his mom stopped laughing. Her face turned solemn. "Not funny, Jacob."

She paused, then grinned mischievously. "It was a nice toy though, wasn't it?"

He stood up, his chair squeaking against the tiles as his face went even more red, if that was possible. "I'm leaving."

She was gasping for air when he turned on his heel and dashed for the front door and sweet summer air and freedom that lay beyond.

"Have fun!" she called after him, tossing an apple at his head.

He chuckled as he plucked it out of the air and ran out the front door, leaving it swinging behind him.

In truth, he was glad that his mom had talked to him the way that she had. He had been prepared to die, to go live life as a monk, to get a vasectomy and promise never to have children in case they developed whatever weird kinks he had, but she had dealt with the whole thing with charm, with laughter and smiles. She made him feel happy, not scared. He was eternally grateful for that. Now he wouldn't have to shave his head and live in the Himalayas.

He strolled down the street, amazed at how much had changed in so little time.

--

Alice smiled to herself, satisfied with how her conversation had gone. Jacob had looked extremely uncomfortable at some point, and truth be told, she had been as well - but she was fairly certain she had done a good job of masking it, of hiding her unease at the whole situation - and her incestuous horniness that lay under that, like the layers of a Russian doll inside her soul. All in all, though, the conversation had gone just about as well as it could have. He had seemed happy at the end there, even laughing.

And some parts of him were definitely happier than others. She had spotted the slight (well, if she was being honest, extremely not slight) boner in his shorts as he turned and left, try as he might have to hide it from her view. See, Alice had figured something out last night, when she had been planning and plotting for how to deal with this whole mess of a situation. Alice had seen Jacob masturbating while looking at her dildo. She also knew that he knew that the dildo could belong to no one else but her. Which meant that if the dildo was hers, then he had been masturbating to her dildo - to her, and he knew it. And now, he knew that she knew that he was masturbating thinking about her. That conversation had proved it to her - his shame in accepting that he had been masturbating thinking about her dildo, over her dildo. About her.

So now, Alice had a task ahead of her. She knew that Jacob masturbated thinking about her. He knew that she knew, in a convoluted sense. So now, she simply had to show him that she masturbated thinking about him. In her mind, it all made sense. If both of them masturbated thinking about each other, if they both knew that the other masturbated thinking about them, then perhaps, just perhaps, things might escalate.

The thought made her wet.

She put down her glass and headed upstairs, hoping to grab her sunscreen and maybe get some time in the backyard, especially after she had been so rudely interrupted the day before when she had been sunbathing. Her pussy would have to wait. She climbed the stairs quickly, shedding her robe as she had the day before, at the bottom of the stairs, hanging them from one of the banisters and trekking up the stairs naked as the day she was born, if slightly wettened by her salacious thoughts. She reached the landing, heading towards her room, where her sunscreen -

What was that smell?

She stopped in her tracks, pausing at the top of the landing, stark naked. Her breasts heaved slightly, the nipples at the ends wavering in the air as she breathed in deeply, in and out, sampling the air.

There were not many things that Alice knew the smell of by heart. She was a relatively terrible cook, but she could smell out chocolate like a pig sniffing out truffles in the dirt. She knew coffee, she knew the smell of ripe oranges and mangos. But above all, she knew the smell of cum. She knew the saltiness, the slight bitter undertones, the thick, musky scent that only came with sexual desires and things of that nature. So Alice knew, she just knew, that she smelled the unmistakable alluring stench of fresh semen. And it came, unmistakably, from Jacob's room.

Her pussy pulsed as she turned towards his room instead of her own. Wariness filled her mind of what she might find, but excitedness overtook her brain as she stepped, naked, towards his room. Excitedness, or so she told herself. But between her legs, where they met at the apex of her thighs, fresh, clear liquid started to bead between her shaved lips, forming little drops as it pooled around her opening and started to smear between her legs. Her pussy lips hung slightly open, as if recognizing the scent themselves and opening themselves up to accept what would come with it. Hopefully, that something would be a cock. Her nipples tensed up, coiling down into long little rods that stuck out of the ends of her breasts. They were almost like little pointers, leading the way, motions for her body to follow them as they sniffed out the scent of semen. Her body, animalistically, primally, responded to the tang in the air. It turned, almost unconsciously, towards her son's room, and took a step. Then another. Before she could stop herself, before she could think about what she was doing, she stood at the entryway to his room, peeking through his door, which stood ajar and inviting.

Jacob wasn't exactly what Alice would consider the cleanest person in the world. As a child, he had often left his room in disarray, with clothes all over the place, bed unmade, covers in a pile at the foot of his bed. It had been a miracle he had ever had fresh clothes to wear in the first place. As he had grown up, however, a semblance of organization had emerged. What had been a pile of clothing, both washed and unwashed, had slowly separated into its constituent parts - but still in piles of their own. College, however, had changed him, and for the better. He was more organized now. Sure, her son wasn't exactly up to Alice's standards, but his room was undeniably neater than it had ever been before. Clothes were folded - folded! - and put away in his closest. So what if his closet door was open, and that his comforter wasn't exactly folded up properly. And that his suitcases were still open and taking over the far side of the room? She would take what she could get.

What Alice didn't expect, especially given how clean Jacob had ended up being recently, was the state of his bed. He usually ended up making it before he left for the day, at least stretching the messy covers over a corner or two before he dashed out the door and disappeared from the house and her life for approximately the next fourteen hours. Today, however, his bedspread was simply gone. His mattress was bare, the normal gray covers that hid it from sight missing completely. The pillows still had their covers, but the bed itself was completely bare, empty. All the while, the steady scent of semen grew stronger in the air, almost wafting directly into her mouth. It made her tongue salivate, licking her lips, as her eyes darted around the room, trying to find the source of the stench. Somehow, even her son's semen's scent managed to smell amazing. Divine. Perfect.

Alice poked the door open and it softly squeaked as it swung towards the wall, unearthing the rest of the room to her eyes. A hamper stood against the far wall, a dresser next to it, closer to her. Almost nothing else was in the room. The dresser was covered in clothes. Hoodies, sweaters, other things that she was sure her son had seen ample use of in college, when the winter months were harsh and snow beat down on the campus, covering it in soft white mounds that sucked the warmth from the people and deadened life. Now, however, most of those things would be completely useless now, at home, and stood silently in his dresser, waiting to be pulled out again next year, when he returned to his campus and felt their need.

Her eyes returned to the hamper. The only thing, really, left in the room that she hadn't looked at yet. It was not even close to full, so he had definitely done some sort of laundry recently. Either that, or he had been reusing clothes for the past couple of weeks - or maybe longer - and simply didn't have enough "dirty" clothes to fill his hamper. That, however, was unlikely. Jacob liked to smell good, and he had such a distinct smell. Probably his cologne and deodorant. The room smelled like him, at least normally, when it was not undercut with tones of sweat and spunk and semen. She stepped into the room further, looking more closely at the hamper. It wasn't full, but something large was taking up the top, where it looked to have been haphazardly thrown in. Something bundled up.

Bedsheets.

Alice, still naked, stepped into her son's room fully, getting closer to his hamper full of his bedsheets. Something had happened that had caused him to furiously tear off his bedspread and deposit it, the whole thing, sheets and all, in his laundry. And Alice had a good idea as to what. She gently stepped through his room, dancing on her toes, until she got to his hamper. There, the gray sheets sat, bundled up, completely balled up around something in their center. She hoped silently that what she expected to find in their center would be, truly, what existed at their center. She gently lifted up the ball and unrolled it, spreading it on the bed.

The center of the sheets was a different color than the rest. The rest of the sheets were a relatively light, grayish-white shade. But the center, the part where her son's cock would rest as he slept if he slept unclothed, was almost black. A large dark spot the size of her head, uneven and spotty, stood out from the rest of the sheets. She touched it gingerly, and immediately drew her finger back. It glistened in the sunlight as she turned it slightly back and forth, admiring what coated her fingertip. The sheets were wet. She sniffed her finger daintily, then again hungrily. Musk, salt, sweetness. The smells of sex. Her pupils dilated as she gazed at her finger one more time, then licked it with just the tip of her tongue.

Almost immediately, her tongue exploded with taste. It tasted, essentially, perfect. Salty and sweet, musky. It tasted almost just like his father did, but somehow better. Where his father tasted amazing, Jacob tasted perfect. And this, this was fresh. This was real. This was her son's cum. And she had an entire bedsheet worth of it to herself. So much semen she almost didn't know what to do with it. She put her hand down in the mess, and it came back wet. Utterly, completely covered.

She did the most sane thing she could think of. She licked her hand clean. Long, unfaltering strokes, almost like her hand was a cock, and she was licking its shaft, its underside, like a slut on her knees. Like she had been last night, when she had been pretending that her husband's cock had been her son's instead. She licked all of the semen from her hand, and then put it down again in the wet pool on the bed, in the midst of her bedsheets. It came back wet again. She inhaled deeply from the center of her semen-covered palm.