Giving Mom What She Wants Pt. 01

Day 3

The next day passed in a blur for Tom. He could barely concentrate on his work, seeing again his son and his wife, Charlie kissing Annie, fucking Annie, even tenderly placing a pillow under her hips after filling her with his seed, leaving her with a kiss and a whispered "I love you, Mom." Tom had lain in bed beside Annie, not saying a word, finally reaching out and turning off the light, lying cold and damp in the bed for hours, listening to Annie sleeping peacefully beside him.

In the morning, he and Annie both acted as if the night before had never happened, and Tom had run distractedly, losing over two minutes off his time, his mind circling over and over and over again the events of the night before. He knew he should ask his wife to explain herself, but he did not dare. He knew that the ensuing conversation would be confrontational and unpleasant, and he could not bring himself to ask her to explain her actions. He sat at the table after his shower and played with his scrambled eggs, sipping his morning coffee with some relief as it sharpened his drowsy and sleep-deprived brain.

He watched Annie washing a pan at the sink, her back to him, and noticed that she gazed out the window over the sink more than she usually did, bracing her hands and body against the sink. She had not spoken a word to him all morning. Tom knew a moment of panic when he heard the back door open and saw his son enter, Charlie's tshirt plastered to his broad chest with sweat, and he watched with dismay as Charlie stripped off his shirt like always. The last thing Tom wanted to see was his son's naked body. But Charlie stripped anyway, then filled his glass with water to drink. Annie turned her head, and she and Tom both watched as Charlie drank the water down deeply, the muscles in his tanned throat moving, his thickly defined chest muscles flexing as he threw his head back, a thin stream of water dribbling from the side of his mouth down his chin and neck. Tom watched his wife watching his son, and saw again desire on her face. He felt the blood pounding in his head.

Charlie finished his water and looked at his mother, then went to her at the sink, fitting his body to hers head to toe, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Annie's hands slid over Charlie's arms she leaned back into him. Tom felt like an intruder in his own kitchen and wanted desperately to leave, but he was again frozen as he watched mother and son held tightly together by Charlie's strong arms. He watched Charlie's head dip down his mouth close to his mother's ear, and Tom heard Charlie murmuring to her, but could not hear what was said.

When Charlie's mouth descended farther to the place where her neck and shoulder met, Tom felt himself move, going out the door blindly to his car. Had he not taken the same route to work every day for 15 years, he didn't think he would've made it to the office. As it was, he could not remember the drive itself. He missed his 10:15am break and realized only when his need to became urgent that he had failed to relieve his bladder since early morning. His hasty routine that day gave him no pleasure, and it was with some fear and trepidation that he took the drive home that evening.

He entered the house to the garage into the kitchen and noted with relief that dinner was cooking again, but Annie said not a word to him as she busied herself preparing dinner. Tom wondered with some anxiety whether Charlie would appear for dinner. He did, and Tom watched as Charlie and Annie sat closer than normal, their conversation more quiet and muted than normal, but Tom noted that Charlie touched his mother more often than normal as well, his hand lingering on her arm, his arm around her and resting on her chair back after he had finished his meal. The two continued to speak after their dinner was finished, and as normal neither spoke to him, but Tom felt unnaturally excluded by the pair, and he tried to think of something to say.

When Annie rose and began cleaning the dishes off the table, Tom took his plate and glass to the sink as he always did, and then went to his recliner in the media room. On this night, however, he was too distracted to read or watch TV, but sat instead with his book in front of him, waiting for whatever would happen next. Neither Charlie nor Annie came into the room, and Tom wondered distractedly whether they were together somewhere else in the house; he realized only later that Charlie had left right after dinner, and, when he finally took himself off for his shower, he stood under the water until it ran cold, wondering where Charlie had gone and if he would return. He waited, chilled and anxious, in bed, his book propped firmly in front of his face, as Annie slid into bed. As had happened the night before, it was only a few minutes before Charlie entered the room in his boxer briefs and squatted beside the bed to speak quietly to his mother.

Annie responded, and Tom could see as Charlie leaned close for a kiss, then stood up. This time, Charlie removed his briefs, his cock already hard and straining, before lifting the covers and sliding into bed beside his mother. The two embraced, and Charlie began kissing his mother, Annie responding with passion, their arms around each other, their bodies straining towards one another. This was not the tentative awkward pair of the night before; these were lovers. Tom knew with inevitable certainty what would happen tonight if he did not speak. His throat dry and rusty as if he had not spoken all day, he tried. "Annie," he began, but stopped when he felt Charlie's hard dark gaze on him.

"No, dad," Charlie ground out, his eyes on Tom's face, "you don't want to be involved, remember?"

Tom stopped, and then felt the blood drain from his head as Charlie, his eyes still on his father's face, bent his head to his mother's breast and began suckling at her nipple. Only then did Tom realize Annie was naked in bed. He watched as Annie's hand lifted to Charlie's head, wondering if she would push her son away and speak to her husband, but all Annie did was thread her fingers into her son's hair and pull him closer still.

The lovemaking between the two was more intense this time, and Tom watched in aroused fascination as Charlie lay between his mother's thighs, his mouth roaming all over her clit and pussy, his tongue thrusting in and out of her wet cunt, as his cock would thrust a few minutes later. Tom lay frozen, his book forgotten, his cock rock hard beneath his pajama pants. When Annie moaned as Charlie's cock slid into her, Tom realized that his hand had found its way down to his cock, and he was stroking himself as he watched the pair fuck. It only took a few strokes for Tom to cum, and he groaned involuntarily as his short, hard cock spasmed beneath the cotton fabric.

Annie went still, and Tom heard her ask Charlie about the noise. Charlie didn't pause, continuing to stroke his cock in and out of his mother's pussy, but he turned his head and looked his father in the eyes as he said to his mother, "It wasn't anything, mom, just dad cumming in his PJs." Annie turned her head and looked at Tom for the space of a moment, then turned back to watch her lover above her.

Tom felt embarrassed and ashamed—and aroused again—as mother and son ignored him lying a few feet away in the king size bed. He watched as Charlie pleasured his mother again and again, feeling the wet cotton of his pajamas plaster itself to his semi-hard cock, the unpleasant clammy feeling humiliating him even more.

When Charlie finally spilled his seed into his mother once more, Tom came again, this time not even caring that the pair heard his groan of completion, but doubting they did, since their attention was focused so completely on each other. Tom heard Charlie groan words of love for his mother as he came inside her, and he watched Annie lift her head to kiss her son as he gave her what she wanted.