Giving Mom Facials

Warning: the story you're about to read is completely fictional and was created for the sole purpose of a fun read. Please do not try using the "beauty regimen" in this story in the real world, as it does not actually work. I only wrote it because I liked the premise :-) This story contains parts of adultery and incest between a parent and her son. If any of these subject matters get under your skin—infidelity in particular—please find an alternative erotic reading source. This isn't the one for you.

The story's also longer than the average Lit story. I didn't plan for it to stretch out as long as it does, but I guess that just happens sometimes. I know long tales aren't to everyone's taste, so feel free to find something else if you prefer your stories shorter. Lastly, all characters involved in sexual actives are over the age of eighteen, and you must be over that age as well in order to read on.

Otherwise, have a good motherlovin' time.

* * * *

On a late Sunday morning, Darleen Walker-Davenport walked back and forth through her home as she collected her family's dirty clothes to do her weekly rounds of laundry. In her tight black yoga pants and a dark green camisole, the raven-haired beauty hummed a tune from her childhood in the eighties as she stepped into the laundry with her third hamper of clothing.

As she separated clothes, out the corner of her eye, Darleen noticed a dark blue sheet lying atop her dryer. Her head shook. That boy. She walked to the sheet and took it in her hold. Doesn't even have the decency to put it in a hamper like a normal human being.

She opened the mattress cover to check its condition. Her pale blue eyes broadened with a gasp.

Near the centre of the sheet, Darleen spotted a powder-like substance in the shape of a large rough circle, about the size of a plate.

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinised the stain, as if reading a sentence that made no sense. She didn't need a CSI black light to name the substance. Did he sneak some little floozy into my house? Darleen's blood boiled.

Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled. She felt she had no right to get upset about this. Andy was eighteen years old, after all, and legally allowed to participate in sex. She just didn't like the idea of her son repeating the same mistakes she and her husband made.

Darleen cringed at the thought. She loathed the insinuation her son was an accident. She sighed and tossed the sheet into an empty basket.

As the young mother returned to separating clothes, she realised she'd jumped to a conclusion. That stain did not prove her son was sexually active. Another plausible scenario was it came from masturbation. And knowing her boy, that made more sense.

Andy was a good looking kid, but much more socially awkward than his father as a young man. He wasn't into sports, working out, wild parties or anything of the sort. No, Andy preferred video games, Netflix, comic books and school books. The thought put Darleen at ease and caused a smile with a shake of the head.

After tipping the first load into the washing machine, the dark-haired mother took another look at the basket her son's sheet now lay crumpled in. She strode to it, pulled the cover out and gave it one last examination. "Jeez," she whispered. Then her eyes went wide.

It was clear the spokes in her head turned.

*

Mr Oscar Davenport and his wife Mrs Darleen Walker-Davenport had been in a relationship for close to twenty years and married for over the last eighteen. The two first met in college, during Darleen Walker's freshman year and Oscar Davenport's final one.

The young couple fell head-over-heels in love within the first few weeks of meeting, and as it so often goes with young couples, it didn't take long for their relationship to get physical.

When it came to their amorous activities, Oscar and Darleen were always responsible and practiced safe sex. Although, this excludes one life-altering night, during a wild fraternity party they attended.

Oscar and Darleen both wound up having too much to drink and couldn't resist getting handsy. In need of privacy, they ended up in the backseat of a blue Camry, belonging to Oscar's pal, Trevor.

Kissing and fondling ensued, but Oscar wanted to take their affections a step further. Unfortunately, he'd left all his condoms in his desk drawer inside his room, and Darleen was sober just enough to remind him.

Oscar didn't feel he could wait long enough to get back to his dorm, so he made her the promise to withdraw before his climax. As the saying goes, alcohol impairs one's ability to make good decisions. Darleen smiled and unbuttoned her jeans.

A month later, they discovered she was pregnant.

The young couple wrestled with the decision, but decided to keep their baby. It wasn't all tough news for them: Oscar soon graduated with his bachelor's degree in business studies, and, with help from his father, it didn't take long for him to find a well-paying job.

A couple months later, upon receiving her parents' blessing, Oscar then asked Darleen to be his wife. She beamed, hopped and nodded her acceptance. She couldn't find words; not even a simple "yes."

Oscar and Darleen's parents happily chipped in to pay for the wedding and honeymoon. And at the ceremony, it appeared they'd all put their annoyance about the groom knocking up the bride out of wedlock behind them. They all shone with pride on the day, in spite of the blushing bride's extra glow.

Moreover, soon after his proposal, Oscar suggested his new fiancée should drop out of school, or at least put her studies on the backburner during her last few months of pregnancy. He believed he could take care of their family whether or not she decided to return to her books.

Even though Darleen coveted a degree, she thought putting her studies on hold wouldn't be a horrible idea. She'd done some reading on maternity, and had always known stress and pregnancy did not blend, too well.

In the middle of the festive season of nineteen-ninety-nine, two months following the wedding, Oscar and Darleen welcomed their eight pound boy, Anderson Davenport, into the world.

The new parents couldn't have been happier about his arrival. Their lives as care giving, responsible adults may have started sooner than either had anticipated, but they both felt they wouldn't have it any other way.

Oscar made good money at his job as time went by: enough to get his family out their small apartment and into a lovely two-story home in an upper-middle-class Californian neighbourhood; enough to park a minivan and a luxury saloon car in their driveway; and enough for Darleen to become a fulltime stay-at-home mom. She decided that would be her part.

Life wasn't bad in the Davenport household.

It wasn't shabby in their bedroom, either. As years passed, Oscar and Darleen's sexual flame hardly flickered. Their lust and desire for one another was absolute. Any outsider looking in wouldn't have been confused as to why. They were an exceptional looking item.

Towering at six-foot-two, Oscar Davenport was a fine specimen of the male species. With a healthy crop of dirty blond hair, dark brown eyes, sharp facial features, and a smile that made many a woman weak at the knees, he was considered a dreamboat by many.

He had a lean physique to match his rugged good looks, to boot. The Good Lord was clearly in a generous mood the day He designed him. Oscar had broad shoulders, a chiselled chest, muscular arms—but not overly so—and although his stomach held no abs, it harboured not a hint of fat.

His build indicated why he was offered a scholarship to play for the UCLA Bruins. Well, that and his effectiveness as a linebacker. Lastly, Oscar managed to stay in shape over the years by heading to the gym a few times a week before and/or after work.

He was indeed a great piece of eye candy.

And Mrs Walker-Davenport complemented him, superbly. At five-foot-five, Darleen was several inches shorter than her other-half, but equally in shape.

After her first few years of motherhood, Darleen stepped onto the scale in her bathroom she'd long avoided and discovered she'd packed on a considerable amount of weight.

In spite of compliments from her mother and friends about looking "voluptuous," "curvy" and "more womanly," she felt self-conscious and took their words with a grain of salt. Darleen believed it was their kind way of telling her she was overweight. Oscar never made her feel bad about her size, but she also felt bad about slowly letting herself go while he retained his shape.

She decided to do something about it. Darleen converted a spare room into a home gym. She brought in a treadmill, stair mill, spin bike, gym bench and a rack of weights. She wasn't crazy about the idea of joining an actual gym and working out in public.

With Andy in kindergarten, she was able to push herself every day without distraction. Within a year, the young mother became one tight and toned woman. She was never able to get back to her lowest dress size, which annoyed her, but she still looked fantastic and never stopped pushing for it.

Yes. Being super skinny was still the craze in the early-two-thousands.

Moreover, on Darleen's chest sat an ample pair of breasts, which had developed to somewhere between C and D cups. Oscar found them to be more than a handful. Below, she was gifted an adorable round little bubble butt, tight and toned from her excessive workout sessions. It damn near screamed to be held or swatted.

Lastly, long silky jet-black hair cascaded to a third of the way down her back and framed a beautiful heart-shaped face. It consisted of pale blue eyes, the cutest little nose, high prominent cheekbones, small deep dimples that flashed whenever she spoke, rosy round lips and no sign of aging, which Darleen achieved by—

We'll get into that in a moment.

Indeed, Mr and Mrs Davenport had a lot on their side to maintain a healthy sexual relationship. The only reason they didn't have more children was due to the contraceptives implemented after the birth of their son. They'd had discussions about bringing another child or two into the world, but Oscar was content with the one they had. Plus, as of the year twenty-twelve, Darleen had another use for—

I'm getting ahead of myself, again.

However, Oscar and Darleen's "healthy" sex life had gone awry over the last few months. You see, Oscar wasn't particularly "blessed," if you will, when it came to penis size. He held the average five and a half inches of length while erect. But what he lacked in size, he more than made up for in sperm count.

Oscar Davenport creamed in amounts most porn stars and directors could only dream about for their money shot. The man truly had a talent, and it was one of the things Darleen loved about him. She didn't have a cum fetish or anything of that nature—if such a thing exists—she was just happy her husband was a great source of natural skin cream.

This was Darleen's dirty little secret to looking so young and radiant at the age of thirty-seven. Most strangers assumed she was in her late twenties or early thirties.

The way Darleen saw it, why waste money on chemical peels, Botox and whatnot, when she had exclusive access to an abundant source of natural cream that helped keep the wrinkles at bay—or at least, further delayed their presence. And she'd become addicted to the regimen.

It was a great situation for her husband, as well. "Facials" aside, he could've asked for whatever sexual act his heart desired, whenever she wanted a "treatment," and Darleen never failed to indulge a request. Although, he never did ask for anything outrageous. It was a harmonious arrangement.

However, as stated before, things had gone "awry" in the last few months. Even though Oscar managed to maintain erections, he hadn't been able to produce as much of his miracle cream as he'd done in the past. Lately, Darleen was lucky if he provided her with a spoonful, which perplexed, worried and left her frustrated.

She'd asked him to go see a urologist about the problem, but he shrugged it off, saying it was probably just an effect of aging. Darleen found it difficult to argue with that reasoning. Oscar was in his forties now, and no man could cum and maintain the libido of a youngster forever. She found this depressing, but unsurprising, because in her mind and as the old adage goes, Nothing good lasts forever.

*

Sitting at his desk in his dark untidy room, Andy stared at his computer screen with a deadpan expression as he clicked at his mouse and keyboard. Voices crackled from his headsets, to which he responded, while playing the online video game sensation, Fortnite.

The young man had been at it for hours. The only reason his room was dark was because he'd forgotten to open his blackout curtains that morning. He hadn't even showered yet. He sat and played in his Star Wars boxers and the beige t-shirt he'd worn to bed.

It wasn't that Andy was unhygienic. He simply became so engrossed in gaming sometimes, he lost track of the real world around him. In fact, in his focus, he only heard the third round of knocks on his door and call of his name:

"Andy."

He snapped out his trance and looked towards his door. His mom stood in the doorway, in her green cami and tight yoga pants. "Oh, yeah, Mom. What's up?"

Darleen smiled, shaking her head. "I swear, it's like you turn into a zombie when you're playing on that thing."

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that." He removed his headset.

"So...busy, honey?"

"Err"—he looked at his computer screen—"yeah, kind of."

"C'mon, Andy. You've been playing that game all weekend."

He picked up his headset and spoke into its microphone, "AFK, guys. Be back later."

"Later, dude."

"Later."

He turned his attention to his mom. "Is this gonna take long?"

"Only a few minutes, sweetie. Meet me in the family room." Darleen spun and walked down the hallway, adding, "Oh, and for goodness' sake, Andy, put some pants on. It's two in..." Her voice faded.

Andy walked into the living room. His mother sat on their cream coloured couch chair and on the glass top of the white living room table sat his crumpled mattress cover.

His heart sank. He knew what he'd accidently done to that sheet two nights earlier. He'd scrubbed it down with paper towels and tossed it into the laundry room without much thought. He didn't believe the stain would show, but he'd obviously been wrong.

Fuck, Andy groaned inwardly and took his seat on the middle of the largest couch.

"Umm, what's this about, Mom?"

"It's about this, honey." She reached for his sheet and held it up with one hand. "I, ah, found it in the laundry this morning."

"This is about my sheet?" His face scrunched. Andy knew playing stupid would ultimately get him nowhere, but he'd do whatever it took to prolong getting to the crux of this meeting.

"Yes, honey, but more specifically, it's about what's on your sheet."

His heart thumped. Oh, God, Mom, why're you bringing this up? Why couldn't you just throw it in the washing machine like a normal mom? Andy couldn't voice his thoughts, though. He could only stare, wide-eyed and straight-faced.

"I'm talking about this, hon." She showed him the large white stain.

"Oh." He looked away and bowed his head. "...Yeah, sorry about that, Mom."

"Do you wanna tell me how it got there?"

His head slowly shook.

"Andy, did you bring a girl into this house?"

He shook his head with more conviction as he faced her. "No, Mom. I swear."

As Darleen stared him in the eye, she felt like breathing out a sigh of relief. She knew her son couldn't bear to lie and maintain eye contact with her if she gave him one of her icy stares. He'd learned from an early age about the consequences of lying to that face.

"Okay." Her expression softened. "So, this happened during a...naughty movie?" Her thin eyebrows with their slight arch rose, as the one corner of her mouth curled.

After moment, he nodded and murmured, "Yeah."

She smiled. "It's okay, hon. I'm not mad about that. Every healthy red-blooded young man masturbates. It's the norm and has been accepted since...I can remember." She shrugged. "What had me worried was you might be having unprotected sex. And seeing your sheet made me think you might be relying on the withdrawal technique. Which isn't very...reliable." Darleen stopped before she said too much.

"Umm, okay, Mom." He nodded. "I was wondering why you're bringing this up. Don't worry. I'm not doing anything stupid."

"Good." She nodded with a smile, but it soon disappeared. "Okay, now that we've gotten your awkward moment out the way...I think it's time we get into mine."

Her son's face contorted as he eyed her.

"You see, Andy, it's just that...well, when I first saw your...umm, semen stain...I couldn't help noticing how much of it you...produce."

Andy stared. "Oookaay." He nodded. "That's, aaah, weird."

"Yeah." Darleen took a moment. "I thought you might say that, but when you hear why I bring this up, I think you'll understand."

Andy waited. "Okay, then, Mom...go on."

"You see, Andy, I—aah. Well, your father—umm. Okay, let me start off by asking you a question: have you ever wondered how I manage to stay so...radiant looking—not sure if that's the right word—despite my age?"

Andy put thought into that.

Like every boy in the world, he'd always believed his mom was a beautiful woman—in fact, the most beautiful when he was little. But he also knew this didn't solely come from his love for her. Even his three buddies weren't too shy to admit what a "hottie" he had for a mom, Joshua being the most vocal:

"I say, Andy, you got one hottie for a mommy," he'd say. "You sure you weren't adopted?"

In a way, it flattered Andy to hear compliments about his mother, but it also annoyed him. He'd always shrug it off, though, and come back with some quip about his friends' parents.

Indeed, the young man knew he had what others would refer to as a "MILF" for a mom. And now that she brought it up, she did look "radiant" and younger than her thirty-seven years on this planet. There'd been more than one occasion she'd been confused to be his older sister.

"Well, Mom, I guess I just never thought you were that old"—he shrugged—"and right now, I'm guessing you're just using some sort of beauty cream."

Darleen giggled. "I guess you can call it that." She nodded and showed off her healthy teeth.

"What's so funny?" Andy smiled subtly.

"Umm, do you wanna know the name of my 'beauty cream?'"

"Sure."

"Sperm."

His face scrunched. "Well, that's a weird name for a beauty product."

"No, honey, as in actual sperm, semen or...spunk, as the young people say these days."

His eyes broadened as he listened. "Mom...eww!"

Darleen laughed. "What?"

"I can't believe you do that."

"Hey! I'm not the only one!"

He considered. "So...you're trying to tell me...that other people do this, too? I mean, other than porn stars?"

"Yes." She smiled. "I only learned about it a few years ago. I heard on a talk show that 'sperm facials' can actually be good for your skin. Curious about it, I went on the internet and did some research.

"Apparently, it was true. Studies reveal that the protein in sperm can do wonders for your skin and help fight off the signs of aging. So for a few years now, I've been making use of your dad's. And I've been happy with the results."