I am Jake's Mom Bk. 02 Ch. 04

Authors Note

From The Second Book in the I Am Jake's Mom Saga

Update from Book 1: Brandon has just had the best sex of his life; the only problem is: it was in Mrs. Moore's exquisitely sexy body - and he had it with his college nemesis Mike. Now he's Mrs. Moore, alone, in her mansion, and to top it off, he has agreed to meet Mike later tonight. The mysterious black stone that changed him waits at the deep end of the palatial swimming pool out back. Will Brandon retrieve it to unlock its secrets, or will he linger in Mrs. Moore's body a bit longer?

***

FOUR

She sat, spread wide, every inch of him inside of her, her petals of labia lightly tickling the top of his balls, her jaw open wide. Time stopped. This was true peace. True meditation. Every boundary within her, man and woman, young and old, crossed. Every wall breached. Blown apart. Her female nature swooned; hungry for experience, knowledge, and power.

She looked down on Mike, a view punctuated by the periphery of her luscious breasts hanging from her chest. Mike's hands fell to her hips. He sat back in the day bed, lifting his pelvis high, pulling her back with him. She locked her legs around him to keep him inside of her and rode him forward. He fell back with a thud, and his cock jolted deeper into her. She yelped in pain; it was a good pain, letting her know she was filled completely. He nuzzled his nose firmly into her left breast and took her nipple between his lips. She could feel his firm tongue graze her pink nub of flesh, then circle it.

Can my nipples get any harder?

She gazed at her breast, his mouth working just beyond her tan line. She pressed two fingers to her clit and mimicked the motion of his tongue. To feel both sensations felt electric, as if a hidden circuit connected her nipples and clit. She loved having a clit. What purpose did length serve when pleasure could be so concentrated? She savored her hooded nub, patting it confidently, knowing a huge cock could only give her pleasure if it was inside of her. She moaned at the realization. Her juices coursed down his dick and over the contours of his balls which were already hard at work on their next batch of come.

She felt the hunger of her pussy satiated only for a moment before it was quickly replaced with another desire.

Repetition.

She shoved Mike from her breast and he fell back to the daybed. She lifted herself from him. Her pussy clung to his cock; she could feel the pull in her pelvis as it slowly relinquished his dick, leaving a sheen of wetness around its veiny contours. She rose until there was nothing but its broad head inside of her. She pulsed her muscles around it three times. Then she fell.

"Mmm!"

She quickly ascended, falling harder.

"Oh. Fuck!"

She wound up, working the cock, listening to her voice call out in pleasure. Fucking. Fucking was no longer the penetration she had long understood it to be. She was suddenly the recipient. She fucked him, working his dick to find the perfect rhythm, the perfect angle, the perfect flick of her hips that would satiate her emptiness.

It was always the next one.

She was taken in by the undeniable cruelty of nature. Want — driving her body and his into each other. She was merely a curvaceous animal, hungry to live and hungry to breed. When she lifted from him, her tits suspended in the air in a delayed reaction; when she dropped her ass, they followed milliseconds later, striking hard, their force jolting her the rest of the length down his shaft before recoiling upwards, ready for the next ascent. Every part of her was movement. Flow.

Ripples coursed over her curves at each impact. The dull smack their bodies colliding grew louder, joining her moans, the sound of water lapping the edges of the pool, and the scattered birdsong around them. Everything was sex. The world was sex. She was sex. Current coursed through her body, every impact filling the mysterious reservoir within her. Soon its edge would be breached, and a flashflood of pleasure would rush through her body.

Looking down on Mike as she rode him made her feel funny inside, and yet his enthusiasm overpowered her apprehension. She basked in the generosity of his dick inside of her. It helped she could count on him to last, affording her time to play — so she resolved to take advantage of him, working the cock however she pleased. After all, she was on top this time. She was in control. Fucking was a workout and she welcomed feel the burn in her calves and stomach and the rush of endorphins enveloping her body. She shifted angles and varied the length of her strokes, concentrating on pleasuring herself, until she gyrated her hips in a manner that coerced a long moan from Mike.

The sound was uncharacteristic of the stoic pummeling he had given her up to this point and hearing it sent an unexpected thrill through her tits. His dick immediately swelled within her. 'Oh! Fuck yes!' Surprised that he could get any harder, she resolved to quickly recreate the move. With uninterrupted rhythm, she worked her pussy, trying to remember what she had done so she could entice him to swell inside of her even more. She shifted and flicked her hips and ushered another moan from his lips. Mission accomplished. Blood pumped through the veins in his dick. In the following thrusts her pussy was stretched to its limit. Her pussy came alive. She savored her reward, increasing her rhythm to a frantic pace as she absolved the act as a clever manipulation — meant for her pleasure alone.

"You're so thick."

"I hope that's okay."

She looked in his eyes, still fucking him. His expression was cold, serious. She bit the tip of her tongue and nodded nervously. It was more than okay.

This wasn't a process of control — it was one of acclimation. Her senses were becoming willing receptors of Mike's responses; his breaths, his moans, his hardness. She took them in as raw data, processed them, fantasized responses, and then testing them. She was learning. Learning to please him. Learning to want to. Learning to be a woman. And learning how to fuck like one. She kept moving, slamming her body into him, finding out too late that the new angle did something for her too.

She shuddered. "I'm going to come. I'm going to fucking come!" She fucked him in desperation. She had to get there. She was so close.

She reached the point of no return and fell to his cock. He sat up and she threw her arms around his strong neck, holding on, digging her long nails into his back while moaning and cooing in his ear until she was rendered mute by the waves of climax rushing through her body. She came, looking skyward in blissful surrender, desperate to vocalize what was happening within her, but unable to. She quaked, her short and infrequent breaths the only hint of the upheaval going on within her. Mike wrapped his broad hands around her ass cheeks and held her to him. Her pussy gripped and released his thickness in rapid succession. Her tits pressed into his chest. Her throat finally loosened and she moaned. She was beginning to recognize her voice. There was no denying who she was.

As her orgasm subsided, she leaned back with him still inside of her, wrapped her legs around him, and gazed into his eyes pleadingly, as if to ask what was he doing to her. He looked at her stoically, almost impatiently.

She would have to get used to it. He was nowhere near being done with her.

—

Water splashed in the bathroom. Mrs. Moore's moans echoed off the tile. Waves of water slammed against the walls of the tub, splashing to the tile floor.

As a witness to the scene, there would be no discerning that this was her first time pleasuring herself. She was just a mother in her bathtub following where her arousal led her. One hand cupped a large breast, pinching her nipple, the other lay at the apex of her mature pussy, four fingers coated in her thick juices moved confidently over her clit as she let the images play in her mind. Her moans grew louder and louder.

Maybe it was better this way — to get it out of her system before they met. She could have a clear head again. She could think. God, she wanted to know what Mike was up to! The thought of finding out made her body feel so hot. She lifted her breast to her mouth and took her thick nipple into her teeth, muffling her moans with her tit.

Brandon stiffened Mrs. Moore's tiny tongue and licked her nipple, knowing that no one remembers an event, they remember the memory they create; the story they tell themselves. She knew dwelling on what had taken place this afternoon was madness, but it was getting her so close. She knew the feeling now; the feeling of everything building to a breaking point, becoming too much until finally. . .

"Mmm!"

Mike had been a good teacher.

She let the afternoon play in her mind, adding details along the way; the afternoon from Mike's eyes, what Chad must have seen from the bushes, what Mrs. Moore's perfect ass must have looked like slamming into Mike; being flung around the daybed, her hair in her face, her body manhandled and entered in multiple positions; the feeling of cum coating her tits and filling her pussy; and the phantom feeling his cock had left inside of her. She affirmed each sensation, making memories, allowing them to sublimate into one story in her mind.

The time I fucked Mike by the pool.

Was this a good memory to make?

She knew she should stop and consider this question and give it a thoughtful answer. Instead, she committed her fingertips to the tight figure-eight pattern they were weaving over her eager clit, failing to foresee any danger in letting her approaching orgasm answer the question for her.

When she came, it hit like a cataclysm. She froze and held on. Her body erupted and she followed her climax where it led. It was her strongest yet. The convulsions came, wave after wave, making a minute feel like an eternity. Her moans echoed from the tiles into the depths of her mind.

She lay back in the bath, holding on, lost in the afterglow, shaking sporadically as Brandon returned within her. Weak, he spoke in the faintest of whispers. She could tell it was him, even though his voice now sounded like hers.

This body. . . it's exquisite.

Her hands were shaking. She mustered her strength and reached for the frilly, pink bath sponge laying on the side of the tub. Fetching the bath wash bottle beside her, she squirted its pearly white contents into the material. It reminded her of Mike's come and she found it fitting she would be using it to wash him from her chest. Breathing in the sweet floral fragrance, she scrunched the loofah in her hands, working up a generous lather before sliding it in one stroke from left to right over the top of her chest. Soapy water coursed down the slope of her tits and dripped from her nipples into the water below.

She bathed herself, savoring every inch of her luscious body. When she was done, she leaned back and smiled, hugging her breasts to her in her arms. She wrapped her toes around the chain leading to the stopper, pulled it from the drain and lay for a moment, feeling reborn, savoring the feeling of water conceding her body to the air.