Family Development Ch. 04: Medley

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.

*****

Eighteen year old Claude was a young man possessed. He was obsessed with, consumed by, an expanding relational dimension. He sat, thunderstruck, at the rectangular lemon Formica and chrome table in the James' Pasadena kitchen, staring unabashedly at Carla, his barely forty year old mother, as she merrily meandered from counter to sink, stove to refrigerator, clearing the remnants of their breakfast.

Carla was giddily a-glow in a just-fucked rapture, certain, too, that her freshest egg must surely have joined with one of Claude's millions of sperm. He had, after all, spent , not once but three times, without protection, into her eager vagina that very morning, the most fertile day of her current menstrual cycle. "If there's a God, I'll have Claude's child." she swore to herself, looking across the kitchen to her young, virile, Adonis, sipping the last swallow of his orange juice.

When Carla crossed the line, by sneaking into Claude's bed at 2 a.m., she had not known how lost she had been or how ardent her son could be. What had begun as an intended naughty exploration, a sinful self-indulgence, was now an out of control wildfire. Carla's body was a prime unburned forest in the midst of a long drought. Had she thought more about it, she might have realized the danger of building even the tiniest fire for basic warmth. As it was, however, her son's passion was like a Santa Ana wind and the resulting conflagration was awesome to behold.

Carla caught Claude ogling her well-built, fit frame. She blushed like a maiden, but crossed the linoleum and stood proudly beside him. "So, you don't think your Mom is too hard to look at, huh?" She asked, tousling his dark brown hair and grinning, all the while reminding herself that her 6' 3", 210 pound, grown son was, himself, hardly repulsive.

Claude pushed his chair back from the table and spun it around. He spread his knees and captured her with his strong hands, inside her sheer white rayon peignoir, just above the waist of her lime green chiffon baby doll bloomers. He tugged slightly, drawing her close, between his legs. "Completely, NOT!" He answered with a chuckle, licking a drop of orange juice off his lower lip. "In fact, I have a confession: I have been looking at you, and getting hard-ons, for a couple of years." He laughed, dropped his hands to Carla's bottom and quietly held her for a moment before continuing. "Why do you think it was that I asked you not to come to swim meets and watch me race?" He inquired, tilting his head back and staring into his mother's face. He loved its oval perfection, her perfectly spaced eyes, her thin straight nose and full sensuous lips. Everything about her was beyond improvement as far as he was concerned. Merely thinking about her made his dick wiggle in his sweatpants.

"Oh," Carla mused, "I guessed you would be embarrassed to have your mother there, or maybe were afraid I would see a girl in the stands you weren't ready for me to know about." She stroked Claude's neck with her left hand and placed her right hand loose upon his left shoulder, gently squeezing it through his T-shirt. "There were any number of reasons but, I wasn't going to take it as a personal slight." She smiled and kissed the top of Claude's head. "So, why did you?"

Claude coughed and looked down at the growing lump in his pants. "I was afraid, alright," he said quietly. "Afraid that I might look at you and get a boner in my Speedo."

"You mean," Carla chortled low in her throat, while she massaged her son more firmly, digging her thumbs into his trapezius muscles, "Like the one you're building down there right now?" She asked.

Claude flexed his fingers into Carla's cheeks, spreading them inside her thin panties. "I mean exactly like this one," he answered huskily. He slid his right hand up to the middle of Carla's back and his left to the top of her drawers. Pushing his left hand back down, inside the pastel material, he carried her panties over her ass to mid-thigh where gravity sped them into pool at her ankles. He pulled his mother's upper body in against him and raised his lips to meet hers as she lowered her face, hungrily kissing him with an open mouth.

Carla stepped out of her baby doll bottoms and straddled Claude's legs. Still kissing him, hard and deep, she lowered her hands from his shoulders to his waist and stretched out the elastic of his sweats. She pushed while he hiked his ass off the chair, and his grey jersey pants slid to his knees, freeing his erect cock from its soft prison. Claude kicked his legs loose from the sweats and pushed his left middle three fingers deep into Carla's slippery slot.

"Uunnhh, Baby," Carla exhaled, closing her pussy around his wriggling fingers, "That's... uunnhh... SO... NICE!"

Claude's right hand slid between their chests and covered Carla's full left breast. His first and second finger tips plucked at her thick hard square nipple while his spread thumb and pinky worked with his palm heel to palp the firm mound.

"Yeeep!" Carla yipped approval and scooted her hips forward. Claude ducked his head beneath the baby doll top and suckled her right tit, drawing as much of it as possible into his hungry mouth. Carla plopped her cunt down onto her son's fat cock and rocked her ass forward and back on his thighs, slick with her pussy's juice. Claude's displaced left hand squeezed her buttocks. His greased fingers slid between her cheeks and rubbed small penetrating circles around her sphincter. "MMfff!" Carla moaned, as the pressure from his dick merged with that of his fingers in her rosebud. She had always resisted any effort by Ben for anal contact. It had never seemed right to her. "Why is this OK with Claude?" she wondered in the back of her mind, even as she actively squirmed and drove his fingers past their voluntary stopping point. "MMMFFFF!" She moaned more loudly, forcing her rectum onto his fingers to the webbing of his hand and then violently thrusting forward and back. Claude's dick and digits see-sawed as he sucked and mauled her breasts. Carla tilted her head and screamed to the ceiling, "OH MY GOD! YESSSS! YESSSS! OH CLAUDE! FUUUCCKKK MEEEEE!"

Claude was astonished by the outburst as his mother shook and trembled on his lap, coming a flood around his prick and onto his legs. He had been concentrating so hard on giving Carla as much pleasure as possible that he had nearly forgotten he was part of the mix, too. His dick did not forget, however, nor did his nuts. Moments after Carla's screams died away and she clung, whimpering, quivering to his neck, drooling on his T-shirt, Claude felt his balls seize in their sack. He lunged his hips and curled his finger tips. He drew mightily on his mother's right tit as he crushed her left one in his hand and exploded the creamy contents of his testes into her for the fourth time in eight hours.

Carla wept unrestrained as she hugged her son and mewled. "Oh Claude... oh my God... oh son... ohhhhhh!"

Claude pulled his right hand from Carla's tender tit and patted her gently on her back. "I'm here, Mom," he crooned soothingly, rubbing her shoulder blades, "I'm here for you whenever you want me, any way you want me." He eased his left hand carefully out of her ass and lightly cupped her bottom. "I love you so much." He pledged. "Shall we take a shower and then lay out by the pool?" He pressed her full seated length against him and held her tight. "You know, just hang out and rest?"

Carla nodded, still numb from the most wrenching prolonged orgasm she had ever had. Claude sensed her need to move and her incapacity. Bracing her to himself, he leaned forward and stood, lifting and holding her 145 pounds as if it were nothing. He kicked away the pile of clothes at his feet and carried his mother in his arms down the main hall to her bedroom, past the four-poster and into the master bath. She clung gratefully to his neck as he slid the shower door open and turned the tap to full hot.

As steam filled the room Claude carefully stood his mother up, still supporting her against himself, and slid her peignoir off her shoulders into a heap on the tiles. He curled his left arm around her waist and raised her baby doll top above her head, pulling it as Carla managed, one arm at a time to extricate herself from its thin ribbon straps. As the green sleepwear fell onto the dropped robe, Claude again picked his mother up and cradled her. Now, nude in her son's arms, she felt a weird role reversal. Her mind whirled, flashing back to 4:14 a.m., February 17, 1959. When the nurse handed Carla her newborn bundle she did not imagine she could ever feel happier. How wrong she was. This moment exceeded that joy by miles. Carla craned her neck and kissed Claude sweetly. He stepped, smiling, with her into the shower, not caring that he still wore his T-shirt.

The steaming medium spray soaked them as they stood, relaxing, enjoying their bond. Carla revived and scratched at Claude's ear with a fingernail. "I think I'm OK to stand alone, now, Baby," she cooed softly.

Claude lowered her slowly, reluctant to end the longest, closest, embrace he had ever shared. Carla dropped her arms and tugged at the hem of her son's drenched shirt, pulling it up past his chest. He raised his arms helpfully and pulled them back through the sleeves as his mother pulled his head hole over his wet hair. Stepping into his arms again, Carla dropped the soaked shirt into a sodden pile at her feet and kissed her son softly, then warmly, then with vigorous passion, pushing him back against the tiled wall.

Claude responded automatically. He wrapped his arms around her back and squeezed her against his hard chest. Carla broke the kiss and slithered down, between his arms, in a half-squat. She drug her hands along his spine and stopped when her palms splayed across his solid glutes. Pulling him to her face she teased his navel with her tongue and lips. "Mmmmm," she buzzed, "I could just eat you up" she mumbled into his six-pack abs.

Claude tipped his head back, the shower spray bounced off his pecs and water sheeted over his stomach dividing its stream around Carla's nose and mouth. He laughed into the wet echoing cubicle. "Uhm, Mom?" He asked, between the gut convulsing chuckles inspired by Carla's tickling mouth, "You DO know I'm a human... and remember we just made love and I CAME really, really HARD, like a few minutes ago?"

Carla paused and looked up at her young lover. Shower spray drove into her face like a tropical rainstorm. She opened her mouth and filled it with the waterfall, then turned and spat it back out. Looking again at Claude she asked, "So... what's your point? I may be full of your spunk, but that doesn't mean your tank is empty. Or, are you tired of this old lady already?" Not waiting for an answer, Carla returned to Claude's belly and blew a raspberry, just as she used to do when she bathed him 15 years earlier. Reflexively Claude reached down and rubbed his mother's shoulders as he braced himself against the tiled wall.

Carla worked her fingers around Claude's buttocks and down onto his hams, pushing her nails deep into his strong muscles, leaving marks, but, not breaking the skin. Abandoning her squat, Carla knelt on Claude's T-shirt in front of his groin, pleased to see his erection had returned from her ministrations. Leaning forward she kissed the slit on his mushroom and slid her lips over its velvety wet surface, just barely filling the 'O' of her pursed mouth before sliding back and releasing the fleshy knob with a loud popping kiss.

Claude groaned when Carla's tongue slid over his slit, and, again, when she kissed his helmet away. His disappointed dick twitched and bobbed in front of her nose, hoping to regain her favor. Carla's long blonde hair, in the shower spray, hung like a beaded curtain over her shoulders, her breasts and Claude's crotch. Under its tent, she wrapped her left hand around Claude's stalk, holding it as if it were a microphone. She ran her right hand between his legs, rubbing her wrist against his shrunken sack, feeling the bottoms of his shriveled balls tucked up into his pelvis. Her right middle finger found his anus and pressed its tip against the dimpled rim.

"Ohhh, uhhnn," Claude moaned, feeling his loins stir internally with her caresses.

Carla grinned in secret behind her golden veil and broadly licked the teenage lollipop in her left hand. "Uhhnn!" came her victim's prompt response. Pushing her finger tip into Claude's asshole, past her first knuckle, Carla sank her mouth over his cock, holding the rim of his glans behind her teeth, while she sucked the plump sponge and slid her fist down his shaft to its base.

Claude danced as she sang into his microphone. His hips thrust forward and fell back, automatically reacting to her stroking and poking. His scapulae rolled against the wall tiles and his toes involuntarily curled. Carla felt his nuts come out of hiding and group up in his scrotum. She pulled harder on his bulb, squashing it against the roof of her mouth as she pulsed her fingers on his great throbbing under-vein.

Claude could not believe what was happening. "I'm going to blow!" He thought, wildly. "Holy shit, she's making me come!" When Carla's middle finger wormed its way past her second knuckle, she twisted it 180 degrees and crooked its tip. Her forearm flattened along Claude's ass crack and squished his tightened scrotum and nuts. She met his lunging hips full on and took the top half of his aching cock into her mouth while her left hand rapidly tugged short, insistent, strokes on its lower half. "AAARRRGGGH!" Claude roared into the shower head, instinctively clasping his hands, with interlocked fingers, behind his mother's neck, compelling her to stay sealed to his dick as his balls miraculously found yet more semen to pump. Carla slurped and swallowed, spurt upon spurt, so happily that she laughed aloud around his shooting fount, narrowly avoiding choking on his volume as she did so.

When Claude was utterly finished, Carla sat back on her heels, pulled her finger from his ass and pushed her stringy hair strands away from her face, over her back. She was still grinning and laughing as she licked her lips and swallowed a lingering globule of jism. "A mother can always tell when her son is holding out on her," she said, wagging her finger at Claude. "Didn't I teach you about not fibbing and coming clean when you were little?" she jokingly accused.

Claude nodded weakly. "Yes, I guess you did, but I thought that was about stealing your cookies," he replied in a small voice.

"It was," Carla confirmed, "when you were eight. Now you're a MAN and my 'cookies' are different, but, I'm still you mother!" She stood and hugged her wasted son. The shower spray, turning lukewarm, beat gently on her bottom as she kissed Claude. "NOW, you can get into your suit and go laze by the pool... I have a couple of things to do first. I'll join you later." She shut off the tap and held the shower door open. "So, SHOO!" she ordered with a light laugh, swatting her son's bare bottom as he exited.

*

An hour and a half later, Claude was swimming easy laps in the James' full-size pool when Carla walked out of the house. Born on the cusp of Aquarius and Pisces, the Water Bearer and The Fish, he had always been a true water baby. When he was small, the most serious punishment he could receive for transgressions was to be grounded, which, for him, meant: No Swimming! He kicked to the side of the pool and stared over the splash gutter as his mother crossed the patio tiles to the apron and sat in a wrought iron arm chair, putting two large fluffy towels and a bottle of sunscreen on the matching white glass-topped table beside her.

Carla wore an electric blue one-piece cutaway tank suit, which clung like a second skin to her well proportioned full figure. As she walked, with her naturally sensual sway, the Lycra Spandex material shimmered. "Fuck me!" Claude exclaimed to himself silently, "Cut off the straps; add a cotton fluff tail; she could be a fucking Playboy Bunny!" He thought about making a wolf-whistle but, decided instead to simply get out of the pool. He raised himself, with a single push, out of the water and stood dripping on the deck, grateful his cock had seemingly not yet recovered from the blowjob in the shower, but only bulged in normal relief against his scarlet racing Speedo briefs.

"Hey, Mom," he said, picking up his own towel and wiping his face. "Aren't you going in for a swim?" He asked when he saw Carla begin applying her SPF-50 cream to her thighs and knees.

"No, not for a while," Carla answered, "But you go on... in fact, why don't you show me what I never got to see at those meets you asked me to stay away from?" She smiled at her son.

"Um, sure thing," Claude replied. "Go ahead and oil up... I'll do four lengths, just like it was my I.M."

"'I.M.'?" Carla queried. "What's that?" She rubbed her shins down to her ankles and smeared more lotion on the tops of her feet. As she asked her question, her posture displayed a tantalizing, straight down, view of the deep cleavage between her 35D boobs.

"Individual Medley, Mom," Claude explained, enjoying the show. "That's four 25-yard legs, using four different swim strokes: Butterfly, Back, Breast and Freestyle. I also swam the Butterfly Leg on the 200 Medley Relay." He saw Carla's head lift and her face formed an uncomprehending expression. "Just watch... I'll do it as if I'm going for the gold!" He laughed and walked to the shallow end of the pool.

Claude assumed a starting dive stance, imagined a pistol shot and launched. Carla was impressed by his grace and speed. He looked like a flying fish as his arms swept and legs kicked. His turn was a mere flash, a winking red ball, and then we was on his back, windmilling and kicking to the other end. Another spinning turn and he shot underwater, then surfaced in his breast stroke, slicing through the water like a porpoise, toward the deep end. His final powerful turn set him for home. Carla had a vision of Johnny Weissmuller outracing a crocodile in an old Tarzan movie as she watched her son perform. Seeing his shoulder roll as he stroked made her cunny wet. Unconsciously she touched herself, pushing her suit into her peach, just a little bit.

She stood up and handed Claude his towel as he walked back to the table, puffing. "God! His chest is just HUGE!" She thought to herself, remembering how good it felt when he laid on her. "That was really marvelous, Honey!" she said, with unvarnished admiration.

Claude laughed as he toweled off. "I always win... in practice," he said, adding ruefully, "to be honest, though, I doubt I'll be at the '80 Olympics, Mom."

Carla stepped forward and hugged her son through the towel. "You're MY Olympian, don't you worry... but, come over here to the chaise and put sunblock on my back, OK?" She asked, heading over to the padded lounger. She sat, straddling the foot end and bent forward, bowing her bare back. Claude picked up the lotion and followed, sitting behind her in front of the armrests. He squirted a liberal streak along her arched spine, put the bottle on the ground and rubbed vertically from her nape to the base of the suit's cutaway back.

"Mmmmm," Carla murmured. "You have such a great touch," she complimented, feeling his cock swell against her bottom through their suits.

"Uhh, thanks," Claude answered, mildly surprised by his fat dick's demonstrated renewal. He shifted on the chaise. Carla twisted her ass and scooted back into him. The lounger's arms prevented Claude's escape from the additional firm contact with his mother's buttocks. He pushed his oily hands up her back and across her scapulae to the side seams of her suit top at the edge of her armpits.