Dumbing Down for Mom

All characters in this story are over eighteen.

Dumbing Down for Mom

I'm Roy. Royster Jenkins Forrester is my full name, thanks to mom. Now you see why I simply go by Roy. I'm twenty, an only child, in college studying pre-med, and still living at home. Dad died two years ago from a heart attack while having sex with my mom, Cassy. She's officially Cassandra Olympia Forrester. It was mom's family who was into the long, off the wall, names.

As a kid, she competed in beauty pageants and won most of them. She was a little cutie and grew into an absolutely gorgeous woman. Her pageant career ended in her teens. She rocked every part of the competition except one. This was the first pageant she had entered that the final points came from a question and how you answer it. Her question was 'What are your thoughts on the present status of China?'

You're probably going to think I'm making this part up. I don't blame you. I didn't believe it either until my dad showed me the video of her answer. She turned to the audience and flashed her beautiful smile then began.

"China has been around for hundreds of years. It's better and stronger now than ever before. China is one of the things, I personally, would have a hard time living without. No one likes eating on paper plates. And those Styrofoam things are just atrocious. I hear people talking about red china sometimes. I'm not impressed with that. Maybe with a black tablecloth it would look alright, but for me, a white tablecloth just feels cleaner. I like simple china, white with a stripe around the edge. A gold stripe is what I like best, especially with gold tableware. I prefer glassware that's clear and maybe a monogram on it. The napkins should be cloth, of course, with a napkin holder that's functional, and complements the rest of the place setting."

I shit you not. That's what she said. Her parents recommended she become a photo model after that. Mom could memorize with the best of them. But thinking and common sense eluded her. If she hadn't been home schooled beginning in the fourth grade, she would never have made it through high school. For the most part, the academics in school aren't much use for any of us unless our chosen careers require them. Common sense is. Mom was apparently putting on her makeup when they handed that out.

Don't get me wrong. I love my mother. She means the world to me, and she did to my dad too. She's sweet, loving, considerate, and always puts her family first in everything. She's an amazing cook and homemaker. She's fun to be around and enjoys little things.

Mom and dad both came from wealthy families, so we've always had the best of everything, big house, nice cars, great vacations, designer clothes. We even had a maid and chauffeur until dad died. Mom let them go after that to give herself more to do. She works out in our home gym and pool daily, and still, even at forty-two has the body and face of a goddess. At five ten and a hundred thirty pounds, she attracts attention.

She rarely leaves our property without me. In public, men are attracted to her like dogs in heat. She went on two dates after dad died and swore off men all together. She said that all they were interested in was her body. I really can't blame them. Even as her son, she makes my dick hard just by being around her. Go ahead and judge me. You probably wouldn't be reading this unless your mom did the same thing to your dick.

That brings us to the point of this story. I decided to do something about it rather than just fantasize. Mom was lonely. She needed someone in her life besides just a son. I'm six feet tall, have a good body, and a nice personality, but I've never had much luck with girls. Academically, I'm downright brilliant. I have enough common sense for both mom and me. I'm just awkward around girls, except mom.

She isn't one of those moms you read about on Literotica that seduces her son, marries him, then has his babies. To get in my mom's pants will require finding her weaknesses and exploiting them. I already know the weak area and came up with a plan. The manila envelope on my desk is the beginning of it. It looks very official. The very professional label on the front reads, 'Personal,' in big red letters. 'Mrs. Cassandra Forrester.' There's no return address, and besides being clipped closed, and sealed, it's been taped shut. I'm presenting it to her this evening at dinner. It's Thursday. She'll read it tonight, but not say anything about it. She'll have all day Friday to formulate her response, then Saturday and Sunday to implement her solution. I'll be an innocent bystander in the entire thing. It took me two weeks to get the letter inside the envelope worded exactly right and I have little doubt that by Sunday I'll be a motherfucker.

Mom and I were sitting at the dinner table on Thursday enjoying the delicious dinner she worked all afternoon creating. It was after we cleared off the table that I gave her the envelope.

"What's this?" she asked.

"My academic counselor gave it to me today. She told me not to open it. It was for you, and only for you, to read."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Mom, I've never been in trouble."

"I wonder what it could be," she said.

See what I mean? Common sense would tell you to open it and find out. She put it on the table.

"Mom, I think you're supposed to see what's inside."

"Oh, yes. I probably should."

"I'll clean up the kitchen and run the dishwasher if you want to do that," I offered.

"Thank you. That's very considerate. Should I open it here?"

"It's marked personal, mom. You probably should read it in private."

"I'll take it to the den then."

She picked up the envelope and left the room. The only times she ever went to the den was to clean or do online shopping. I expected her to take it to the sitting area in her room. She read her romance novels in there. The den was a surprise. I had anticipated her every move, but right out of the gait she did the unexpected. This wasn't a big issue and shouldn't interfere with anything, but it did remind me to keep an eye on variables. As I finished up the kitchen, she read the letter.

My dear Mrs. Forrester,

As you know, your son, Royster, is a brilliant young man with a bright future. I'm sure you are immensely proud of him, and we at the University are proud that he has selected our institution to further his education.

To our great surprise he has been having some difficulty in two of his courses. Two of his professors have brought this to my attention. As part of his pre-med coursework, he has a considerable academic load. If her were unable to complete a course successfully it could ruin his chances of getting into medical school. He has two examinations due next week that could make or break his medical school dream and the professors of both classes have great concerns.

The first course in Anatomy and Physiology, the study of how the human body is put together and how it operates. He has done beautifully in this course until now. The section he is having difficulty with is the reproductive system. Based on the in class quizzes his professor is concerned that he will fail. The professor provided him with access to some books that graphically display female anatomy, yet even with that, his knowledge of the female body is severely lacking.

The second course is related to the first. This is his human sexuality course. Without understanding the reproductive anatomy and physiology, understanding human reproduction would be impossible.

We're afraid that Royston will fail both unless something happens very soon to change it. We've done as much as we can here at the University. I'm hoping that by bringing this to your attention you might find a way to save your son's dreams of becoming a doctor.

What I'm about to suggest may be difficult for you. It is also off the record. Thus, the sealed envelope for your eyes only.

Royston needs to experience a female body. He openly admitted to having no experience with women. A girlfriend would be the obvious first choice but with just a few days until the exams, I doubt that is a possibility. A professional sex worker would also be a possibility. My concern with those is the legality. We certainly wouldn't want Royston spending the weekend in jail for soliciting a prostitute. The second issue there is the possibility of contracting some horrible sexually transmitted disease. Although some are easily curable, others are not. This leads us to our third possibility. A close, very close, female relative. Royston told me that besides you, he has only a grandmother in her eighties, who lives in a nursing facility.

I don't feel comfortable even putting the implications of this on paper. It would take a very loving individual and dedicated woman to take such an over-the-top approach to Royston's needs.

If there is another option which I have not thought of, I would hope that you might recognize it. Royston's future may depend on what you are able to do to help resolve this.

It would be my preference that you do not discuss the contents of this letter with your son. I believe that writing you was the proper approach, but as an academic professional, it is crossing a few ethical lines.

I thank you for your time and consideration in this very important matter.

Sincerely,

M. S., Academic Counsellor.

I wish I could have been there when she read it. I have no doubt she nearly pissed herself toward the end. My assumptions were that she would sit dumbfounded for about an hour, then come and talk to me nonchalantly about how school was going. She wouldn't ask for specifics. She'd ask me about girls and if I had any prospects. Then she would go to the kitchen and make some sort of dessert. We'd enjoy that, along with a glass of wine on the patio before bed. I was right every step of the way. She baked chocolate chip cookies, by the way.

Friday morning, as usual, she was already dressed and looking beautiful when I came down for breakfast.

"You look even more beautiful than usual today, mom. Got a date?"

"Hardly," she replied.

"Yeah, me either." I was laying it on thick.

"What are your weekend plans?" she asked.

"I have two exams next week. I've really gotta study for them."

"Tough material?"

"Yeah, somehow I just can't grasp it. I feel like a blind man being tested on color recognition."

"That bad huh?"

"Very bad. I may not pass the tests."

"You've never failed a test in your life."

"There's a first time for everything, I guess."

"Are you really that concerned?"

"Mom, if I fail, med school is history."

"Surely not."

I gave her my best pitiful smile. "Thanks for breakfast. Gotta get to class."

I kissed her on the cheek, put my dishes in the dishwasher, picked up my intentionally overloaded backpack, and left for school. Everything was going according to plan. Fridays were actually a light day. I only had three classes.

Mom would come up with her plan today. She would accept the idea that she was going to seduce her son, thinking it was her own idea. Mom would be out at the pool when I got home wearing a ridiculously hot bikini. To do a little advertising, I would put on my Speedos before joining her. I had two large A&P texts with a little literary porn tucked between the pages to keep at least a semi while studying. She would be sunning, and I would be facing her from a shady spot while I read. I wanted my package in full view to keep her motivated.

When I got home, I ate the sandwich she had made for me, changed into the Speedos, grabbed my books, and headed outside. She was exactly where I knew she would be and wearing her yellow bikini. That was my favorite, and she knew it. I expected her to have a wine cooler next to her chaise, but instead she had a Tequila Sunrise. My chaise was already positioned in the shade. I'd put it there a couple of days before. After setting the books down I walked over and kissed her cheek.

"Mom, I love how you look in that suit. It's my favorite. Can I get you anything before I hit the books?"

"No, I'm all set, honey," she replied, raising her sunglasses, and melting me with her smile.

I sat on the chaise and grabbed one of the books. Holding it up so I couldn't see her I began reading the erotica. Little by little my cock grew, and I moved my legs farther apart. I wanted mom to know I couldn't see her so she would be more comfortable seeing my ever-enlarging package. I will admit that I hadn't thought this through very well. Holding that freaking book up was tough. It only took about ten minutes before my arms were cramping. A bound sixteen-hundred-page textbook is heavy. I finally gave up and put it aside.

Walking over to mom with my crotch at her eye level I stopped.

"Mom, is it okay if I get a beer or a wine cooler? I'm having trouble concentrating on my reading."

"I can make you a Tequila Sunrise."

"No, I think that would be too much. I just want something to relax me a little."

"That's fine, baby."

'Baby?' I thought. She's never called me baby. That was her pet name for dad. "Can I get you something?"

"How about another sunrise?" she asked, pointing to her glass.

"Consider it done," I told her going back inside.

I went to my room and grabbed a much smaller book. My arms weren't gonna make it with the big one. I made her drink and grabbed a beer then went back outside. After resuming my position on the chaise, I slipped the erotica into the smaller book and put myself on display. It didn't take long before I had a full erection. Mom would finish her second drink before coming over next to me. It was about twenty minutes before I heard the ice cubes hit the bottom of the glass, then right on time, she pulled a chair up next to me.

"Can you take a short break so we can talk?" she asked.

I closed the book and put it on the table. "I wasn't getting anywhere anyway."

"What material is giving you so much trouble?"

"It's kind of embarrassing mom."

"Be that as it may, what's the material?"

"Female reproductive anatomy and physiology for one. The other is human sexuality."

"What is it that you don't understand?"

"I know the endocrinology and how the hormones work. I understand how the ovaries, fallopian tubes, and uterus work. It's the rest that I can't concentrate long enough to learn."

"What do you mean, the rest?" she asked.

"Specifically, it's the parts you have covered by your bikini. Every time I picture them, I get distracted and can't concentrate."

"You get aroused?"

I moved my hands to cover my crotch. Yes, it was just for show. I wanted her to see it.

"Uh, yeah."

"Do you know how to relieve that?"

"Yes, mom. I figured that out several years ago. It doesn't help."

"Not even if you study right afterward?"

"No. As soon as I pick up the book, I'm right back at square one. My professors gave me books with pictures. One even suggested I watch porn."

"Did that help?"

"If anything, it made it worse. Mom, if you were starving would watching someone else eat ease your hunger?" I know, calls for a commonsense answer. It took a minute for her to answer.

"No. I can see your point."

I was relieved. I really was afraid she would miss it.

"Mom, I'm at my wits end."

"I have an idea. Let's go get cleaned up and go out to dinner. It'll let you relax and take your mind off it. Then when we get home you and I can look at your books and we'll solve this together."

Inside I was grinning ear to ear. Outside I was still a troubled young man in need of help. "Do you think that'll help?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Okay, I'm willing to try anything."

"Good. It's settled."

We went to a steakhouse for dinner. Mom had two drinks. That was a total of four that I knew of. She's tipsy after the second mixed drink. She can drink wine all day with no apparent effect. I drove us home.

"Go change into comfortable clothes and meet me in the living room in about fifteen minutes. Bring your books."

Changing clothes was a surprise. We were already in comfortable clothes. And why did she need fifteen minutes? She was changing too and freshening up. I had expected reviewing the material tonight but nothing more. I expected show and tell for tomorrow afternoon or evening. I had either underestimated her resolve or the added effect of the alcohol. It didn't matter. The sooner the better.

I put on a tank top and some gym shorts, nothing else. Marking a chapter of topographic anatomy in one book, and a chapter on sexual response in the other, I waited on her. After a minute to regroup I made her another Tequila Sunrise and grabbed myself a wine cooler.

Mom walked in a few minutes later. When she got ready in the mornings, she wore a dark blue, short, silk robe. I'd never seen her wear it any other time. She had it on tonight. My cock sprang to life immediately.

"Oh good, you got us a drink," she said, as she sat next to me. After taking a big gulp she turned to me. "Show me what you need to learn."

I opened the first book to the marked page. It was the breast anatomy.

"You know what breasts are."

"Yes, but it's more than just breast. They have different parts and react to stimuli."

"That's certainly true. I'm going to try and help you learn this. I love you and want you to succeed. You understand that don't you?"

"Yes, mom." She smiled then pulled open the top of her robe exposing her breasts. "Uh, mom..."

"We're studying, baby."

There's the 'baby' again. "Okay."

"Look closely at my breasts. They come in many shapes and sizes. Mine are about average."

"They're beautiful."

"Thank you. After having a baby, they make milk for the baby. It's better for the baby than formula or cow's milk. I didn't know that when you were born so you had formula. This dark part is the areola," she said, pointing at hers. "The raised area is the nipple where the milk would come out. That's about all there is."

"The book talks about nipple stimulation," I told her.

"You can suck on them or touch them to cause that."

Although I knew it hadn't been an invitation, I quickly leaned forward and took one in my mouth. Mom sighed and put her hand on the back of my head. My other hand went to the free breast. I massaged it gently and teased the nipple. She made no move to stop me. After a minute or so I switched breasts. Her hand held me to her a little tighter. In a few minutes, I sat up.

"Your nipples got really hard, mom."

"Yes, they did."

"I heard you sigh a couple of times. Does it feel good to have them sucked?"

"They're extremely sensitive. It feels really good."

"The book also says that breast stimulation can cause sexual arousal. What is that, exactly?"

"It makes my lower parts engorge and causes juices to flow for lubrication."

"Lubrication for what?" God, I was milking this.

"Uh...for intercourse. Breast play helps prepare a woman to have sex."

"Oh, that's in the second book."

"Now, tell me the parts of the breast," she said.

I cupped her breast. "This is the breast." Using my finger, I pointed out the rest teasingly. "This is the areola. This is the nipple," I said, giving it a soft pinch. She sighed again. "When stimulated, it gets hard and cause sexual stimulation. Did it sexually stimulate you?"

"Uh, yes, baby. It did. Anything else we need to cover on the breast?"

"No, I understand the physiology. It was the anatomy I needed."

"Me too," she whispered under her breath.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"Nothing, baby. What's next?"

"The lower part."

"We should go to my room for that. It'll be easier to see," she said.

I stood before she did and offered a hand to help her up. That was when she noticed the tent in my shorts. She stood and we both walked to her room. She walked to the bed and climbed up leaning back on the headboard with her legs together.