Dweeb Ch. 05 - Inspiration

In the Womack bungalow, following the previous evening's perfect storm of loneliness, seduction, indiscretion and outright bad judgement, forty-year-old Colleen had failed to find any meaningful rest. Now, three hours after the least relaxing hot shower she had ever taken in her life, her rejuvenated sexual awareness continued its non-stop battle against her self-recriminations. Exhausted, emotionally overwrought, and unimaginably horny, she looked at the clock-radio in her waterbed's walnut headboard, then groaned, "Uhggh." Trying to focus on practical matters, she thought, "Two-and-a-half hours until Walgreen's opens at nine... maybe a glass of warm milk will help me get a couple hours' sleep before I go get the Plan B..."

Down the short hall from her bedroom, Colleen's eighteen-year-old son, Charles, struggled sleeplessly with his own demons in his plain maple-framed standard bed. After peeping on his mother, at first accidentally, but then admittedly on purpose the second time, he had jacked himself to completion while his mind dwelt on his snatched peek at her pouting snatch before she departed his view to step through her bathroom door. As good as that had felt, it hadn't been enough. His erection had softened only temporarily and his aching nuts unabashedly antagonized him to no end while his semi-hard prick pestered his psyche for more attention than he could give it with his hands.

Charles sighed and consulted his Fossil wristwatch then disappointedly thought, "Six-thirty... too late to get any real sleep, but too early to get up and do anything." Lifting the covers, he looked at his pajama's crotch and wryly confirmed to himself, "Well, at least your dick is down. Maybe a pee, and a shave, is all I actually need." Rolling from his bed, he ambled barefoot to the main bathroom, one door down the hall.

Colleen, in her electric-blue velour zip-front housecoat and oversized pink terry-lined slippers, heard the toilet flush as she scuffed her way to the kitchen. Hoping that her son was not up for the day, but only doing his business before going back to bed, she said nothing through the closed door. On the other side of the painted panels, Charles heard only the refilling toilet tank and the warm tap-water splashing in the porcelain sink. His Barbasol Lemon-Lime shaving cream felt coolly comforting as it softened his stubble and settled onto his jowls.

Midway through scraping his whiskers, Charles' stomach grumbled. As he finished his shave, it complained to him again. Wiping his face clean with a washcloth, he said aloud to his reflection, "Maybe I need a piece of toast, too."

When he stepped into the kitchen, Charles was mildly surprised, but far from unhappy, to see his mother standing at the window, watching the breaking morning. He opened his mouth to say something to her, then thought better of it. As he looked upon Colleen, his detailed memory of seeing her stark naked made her bright blue robe irrelevant. He studied the landscape of her shoulder blades, tapering mid-back, slight waist-roll, and finally, her widening hips framing her broad bottom as the velour draped, then fell straight away to her bubble-gum pink slippers. He imagined he had Superman's X-ray vision and his cock thickened.

Whether Colleen sensed that she was no longer alone, or heard Charles' sudden low excited inhalation, or simply had finished her milk, she set her empty glass on the counter and turned about. Even at ten feet distance, her eyes met her son's and made a connection which shocked them both. As she gazed at him, she mistakenly saw, instead, her dead husband, and also his living older brother, who had become, last night, only the second lover she had ever known. As Charles stared at the milk mustache on her openly astonished face, he couldn't help but conjure the image of him painting her lips with his cock's cream.

Colleen desperately sought to drive her crazy lust into banishment as she brightly greeted, "Good morning, Charlie! You're up early!"

Closing the gap to arms' length, Charles answered huskily, "Umm, yeah... I was, uhh, hungry."

Both mother and son had said the wrong thing at the wrong time with the wrong inflection. Their libidos jumped at the chance to call them out. Colleen's inner voice snarked, "That's right. Charlie's 'UP.' Take a gander at that package swelling in his pajamas, why don't you?"

Meanwhile, Charles' devil advised him, "Forget the toast! You're 'hungry', alright... for what your mom's got! And she knows it, too!"

Inspired by desire and unchecked by reason, Charles continued forward, enveloped Colleen in an unbreakable embrace and kissed her like he only ever dreamed of kissing all the beautiful girls he was too bashful to even approach. To his delight and surprise, she kissed him back while she pushed her hands under his arms and grabbed him low on his butt. His growing erection outgrew his pajamas' vent-fly as she pulled his hips hard to hers and flattened her breasts as much as possible to his thinly protected pecs.

Colleen was helplessly out of control in Charles' arms. She felt her intimate juices spill down her inside thighs. Working her jaws against his as she kneaded her fingertips through his pajamas into his contracting firm glutes, she whimpered, "N-n-ohh, Charlie! Oh, n-no, no, n-no!"

Charles didn't understand. His mother was jamming his joint against her pussy. His cock's bare head pushed painfully on her housecoat's metal zipper as it forced the velour, and the dobby nightgown beneath it, past her cunt's opening iris-petal lips. His brain tried to fathom what she could mean while his hands, without instruction, slipped through her armpits and seized her wonderfully full tits by their sides.

Forcing his left hand between their chests and up to Colleen's throat, Charles yanked her robe's zipper tab to her belly, then reversed his wrist and slid his inverted palm downward inside. Feebly and ineffectually, she protested, "P-please! Wait!"

But Charles wasn't waiting. He pulled her robe's collar off Colleen's shoulders with his right hand while he drove his left lower and grabbed her weeping welt through the soaked nightie. As his clutching fingers teased her cloth-covered clit, his standing stallion nosed between her labia and pressed against her paddock's gate, seeking entry. With a frantic fervor, she humped her ass forward while she hauled him impossibly closer yet, squealing as she came, "Yesss! Oh, God! YESSSS!"

Charles' primal instincts and their consequences were novel to him. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but he shared his mother's elation at whatever it was. Driving forward another foot, he pinned her against the counter's edge. As her body knocked over her empty milk glass, sending it shattering into the steel sink, his exploding nuts saturated her nightgown and pasted it to her pussy.

Abruptly changing her tune, and taking charge of her charging inexperienced son, Colleen pushed off from the counter and gasped, "Yes, yes, OKAY! But finish the right way... inside me!"

Charles choked, "Finish, Mom? I... uhh, think I did!"

Colleen grabbed her boy's rock-hard prick with her left hand while she pulled madly at her bunched-up robe with her right. "NO, you HAVEN'T," she corrected. "Raise my hems to my tummy... NOW!"

While Charles complied with her emphatic demand, Colleen pivoted a hundred-and-eighty degrees, bent over at her waist and braced her hands on the counter's lip. Intuitively, he grasped her naked hip points and stepped in until his fat dick's engorged bulb prodded her bottom's crack. Feeling his misaligned missile mash onto her anus, she reached her left hand through her legs and manually altered his approach angle. It was all the help he needed to slide his bolt home.

Colleen and Charles both grunted their satisfaction as his partially depleted, but still heavily hanging balls banged her ass-cheeks' undercurve and his soft spade-head slammed her cervix. He couldn't believe how wet, warm and welcoming his mother's cunt felt. It fit like it was tailored just for him and it squeezed with a loving rhythm. As a deep fire rekindled in his loins, he realized that she had been right about him not being 'finished' and he didn't see how, after this experience, he could ever go back to beating off.

Colleen heard Charles' breathing change when she felt his stroke begin inside her in earnest. Tipping her head up, she arched her back and reveled. His wide girth stretched her more, she thought, than she remembered his father ever doing. Certainly, he was larger in all respects than his uncle, who had broken her four-year sexual abstinence when he fucked her most adequately three times last night.

While her Kegel muscles coaxed her son's throbbing bone, Colleen flexed her knees and matched his forward thrusts with her own energetic pushes. He chuffed and groaned. She keened and mewled. Fearing that he was close to his second release, she prayed silently, as she ground her pubes around his piston, "Please, Charlie... Please last a little longer... So close... so... close!" And then it happened. She shrieked, "OH, CHARRRRLeeeee! OH!"

At almost the same time, Charles yelped unintelligibly and fused his crotch to his mother's ass as he rigidly contorted every muscle. His chest burned from holding his breath. His temples pounded and his ears rang. He overfilled her creaming cunt with his vitality and still his cock pumped out his seed as if he had an endless supply.

After what seemed an age, Charles relaxed and withdrew his dripping semi-soft penis. Thick greasy gray semen blobs puddled at Colleen's winking slit's os, then receded again as her thirsty vagina slurped them back inside. Caring nothing for her disheveled hair or perspiring brow, she straightened up, turned about-face and gathered her son into her coiled arms. "Such a good boy, such a young man, such a natural lover," she praised as she rubbed her hands up and down his spine over his cotton pinstripe pajama shirt.

Charles blushed with pride and hugged Colleen tight to his chest. He couldn't get enough of the terrific sensation of her big warm breasts bulging against his body. Finding her mouth, he kissed her sweetly, then asked, "Can we do this again? Soon?"

Colleen's mystifying powerful inner heat had almost fully dissipated. Now, just like when she woke up naked and well-fucked in her brother-in-law's bed four hours or so earlier, reason tried to regain the upper hand. "We'll see, Charlie," she hedged. "But whether we do or don't, you mustn't ever tell, or even hint at, what we've done just now. It has to be our special secret forever."

"Umm, okay, Mom," Charles agreed, taking it on faith that she knew more than he did about these things. "But I mean it," he pressed earnestly. "You're my mom, and I love you for that, but I have a new different love for you too." Something inside warned him not to say that he wanted to fuck her brains out daily, so he settled on telling her, "I want you to know that and I want to prove it as often as I can."

"Okay, Baby," Colleen cooed, shocked that she had just used the same term of endearment that she had always reserved for Wally and had never said to anyone else since he died. "Well, I have several things to attend to today..." she interrupted herself with a laugh and added, "and you have pretty much worn me out! I'm going to set my alarm for nine and try to get a two-hour nap." She kissed his forehead and said, "Thank you for being so sweet."

As Colleen zipped up her housecoat and turned to leave the kitchen, Charles grabbed her left elbow and asked plaintively, "Uhm, Mom? Can I lay down with you? I'm a little tired too, but I don't want to sleep alone, now."

Colleen didn't know what to say. She wondered how she would balance her son's expectations with her own. Sighing, she thought, "Can't put toothpaste back in the tube, so you better learn how to brush your teeth!" Aloud, she answered, "Alright, Charlie, but I really do need to sleep, so just let's make sure we only cuddle and snooze, okay?"

Charles sheepishly looked down at his dangling dick, then stuffed it back into his pajamas. Lifting his head, he smiled and said, "Absolutely!" His bare feet seemed to be cushioned by air as he floated down the hall with his mother to 'cuddle and snooze' in her bed.

Ninety minutes later and a mile away, Edgar Pomeroy sat alone in his kitchen, stirring cream into his coffee while a libertine voice in his head argued with his conscience, "What do you mean you don't know why you did what you did last night? You're forty years old, and for the last eight years or more, your sex life has been strictly do-it-yourself fantasy. So, you spiced it up by sniffing Suzie's panties while you stared at her naked tits and jerked off beside her bed. So what?"

Edgar's conscience protested, "So she's my daughter, that's 'so what'...a father's not supposed to ..."

"...For fuck's sake," interrupted the voice. "You think it was really any different from doing it while you thought about any one of the other girls on her cheerleading squad? How about that little brunette pixie, Emma? How many times after a football or basketball game have you pretended that you were up in her eighteen-year-old kootchie?"

"What if she had opened her eyes? Seen me... Caught me!" Edgar postulated his panicked dread.

The lusty prosecutor promptly rebuked, "What if she had? How the hell do you know she would have even minded? She might have wanted to help you out!"

Just then, the objectified teen walked into the room and laughed, "Don't stir the bottom out of your coffee cup, Daddy!" Then she leaned over his head from behind and gave his nose an upside-down kiss. Her Swedish-blonde ponytail swished his neck, ear and cheek leaving a strawberry shampoo scent trail before she snapped upright again. Passing by to the refrigerator, she pulled out a milk carton and said over her shoulder, "A penny for your thoughts..."

Edger left his spoon in his saucer as he drowned his reflexive groan with a slug of coffee, then lied, "Just thinking about the job I have to do today for Superintendent Fredericks."

As she splashed milk on her Cheerios, Suzanne Pomeroy asked, with a soft chuckle, "What, did his wife lose her wedding ring in the disposal again? He thought you were a genius to save it undamaged." Turning around, she leaned against the counter, spooned a bite of cereal into her mouth and continued, without worrying about the dribble at her lips' corners, "I think that went a long way to his decision to let me stay a cheerleader even with my weak grades."

Edgar noticed the escaping milk and his eyes relayed a distinctly un-fatherly message to his dick. In his head, the evil voice said, "Suck my cock 'til your mouth's full, Honey." Out loud, however, he actually advised, "Don't talk with your mouth full, Honey." Meanwhile, beneath the table top, in his gabardine work pants, his prick thickened and daubed his blue-checked boxers with an early lube drop.

Suzanne swallowed and apologized, "Sorry, Daddy." Then, noting the time on the wall clock, she turned about-face, put the barely touched bowl on the counter and said to the cupboards, "Oh, my gosh, it's eight-thirty... I really have to run! Cheer practice starts in half-an-hour. Where's Mom?"

Edgar watched as his daughter pushed her uneaten breakfast toward the sink. Her pleated sand-color skating-skirt's hem hiked up to expose her bright and shiny rust-red opaque satin-finish full-seat Lycra sports panties as they stretched tight over her compact ass. "Uhh-upstairs," he coughed. "Still putting on her face, I think." Darting his hand under his belt, he adjusted his growing hard-on to be both more comfortable and less obvious, in case, when she turned again, she had a view angle below the Colonial-style hickory kitchen table. Then he asked, "Umm, don't you usually wear jeans to practice, Suzie?"

Suzanne spun around from the counter on her toes and innocently looked down past her buttressed teen boobs to her bare kneecaps as her swirling skirt briefly flashed a colorful camel-toe before settling against her toned quads. Distractedly, she replied, "Hmm? Oh, yeah, usually... but Mrs. Patterson has a new routine for us. It's all cartwheels, splits and high jumps. She wants to see how it works with our uniforms."

While Suzanne returned the milk to the fridge, Edgar gulped the rest of his coffee and gaped at her over his cup's rim. Her lithe youthful curves, accented by Theodore Roosevelt High School's red-cream-and-brown color motif, burnished his memory of her naked sleeping beauty, even as the too-hot liquid burned its way down his throat to his gut. His hand trembled and the china rattled his teaspoon as he returned the empty cup to its saucer. Unaware of her effect, she walked to the table and stood by his left side.

Draping her right arm lightly around her father's shoulders, Suzanne asked casually, "Did you come in my room when you got home from bowling last night, Daddy?"

Edgar felt a hot prickle as his neck hairs stood in gooseflesh and he shouted in his mind, "SHIT!" Hoping that he had not been found out, he lied smoothly, "No, Honey. But you called out to me while I was in the hall. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

Suzanne sighed her relief softly. When she woke up at seven-thirty, she found that she had thrown off her sheet and blanket in the night. Not only that, but her thin gauze camisole's spaghetti straps had fallen to nearly her elbows and somehow the string bow-tie which closed her top above the empire waist had come undone. As a result, the flimsy cloth that was meant to cover her breasts wasn't doing that at all.

Suzanne thought she remembered leaving her undies, tights and bra on the floor after dropping them there, but when she got up, they were in her laundry hamper. She had fretted that her dad might have come in, tidied up after her, and also seen her naked titties as she slept. Satisfied with his answer, and figuring that she was mistaken in her memory, she replied, "No, Daddy, you didn't disturb me. I just wondered, is all. How did you guys do? It was the league championship, wasn't it?"

Edgar was glad for the neutral conversation topic. He felt his cock shrinking to normal as he said, "We won. Thanks for asking." Then, reinforcing his falsehood, he added, "I would have popped in and told you, but your lights were out and I figured it could wait until morning."

"What could wait until morning?" Bernice Pomeroy asked as she entered the kitchen.

"Oh, hi Mom," Suzanne chirped. "Daddy was just saying how his team won the league last night, but we were asleep, so he couldn't share the good news until now." Pulling her arm back from Edgar, she turned to her mother, gave her a hug and finished, "I've gotta scoot, Mom! I'll see you after practice."

Bernice broke away and moved to the coffee maker to pour herself a cup while she answered, "Well, probably not, Sweetie. I have things to do, people to see and places to go today. I expect I'll be gone when you get home." Turning to her husband, she gingerly sipped the hot brew then asked, "Can you bring home dinner after your job today, Ed? We had pizza last night; maybe we could do Chinese?"

Then, thinking about eighteen-year-old Butch Carlson and his fat hard prong that she would soon be kissing, Bernice altered her request. "Or maybe stop by that Polish deli on third street... you know how I like a nice kielbasa." Mindful of the kid's big balls, she added, "And there's red potatoes at hand that I can steam in a cheesy cream sauce." Her eyes sparkled as she looked at the kitchen clock and anticipated the high school jock's arrival in twenty minutes.

"Sure, Bunny," Edgar agreed. "That sounds tasty." Confident that his penis was fully flaccid again, he pushed back his chair, stood from the table and clapped his hands once. "Well, it's off to the mines," he laughed. "How about a couple of kisses to keep me strong?"