Jason and Mrs. Johnson

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"Well, that's good!" She patted his knee. "That's very, very good, son." She was feeling proud of herself. This is how a mother should help her son. They should be able to talk openly about such things and it would certainly be very reassuring to the son to have his mother be so understanding and supportive. "And, was it pleasurable for you?"

Actually, the sex with her daughter was now considerably more pleasurable, but he had in fact masturbated a few times since the afternoon with Bridget while thinking about her, recounting the experience in ecstatic detail, typically climaxing at pretty much the same time as it had actually occurred. "Yes, ma'am, yes it was."

"Oh, I'm so happy," and frankly quite relieved. "I imagine that you must often be thinking about Bridget when you do it." She would assume that would be true and she certainly wanted him to feel comfortable about iy. Mrs. Johnson was feeling very good about this conversation. Just the fact that she, they, could talk about such things made her feel good. There was something quite pleasing, so gratifying, to be speaking so personally, so intimately, about masturbation with this young man. It was perhaps as soothing, as healing, for her as it was helpful to him.

But, to Jason, it was just another trick question. It was obviously best to say yes. He could hardly say that he was thinking about some other girl. But, it clearly didn't seem right to be telling her mother that he jerked off to fantasies about her daughter. Well, perhaps there was a middle ground; some way to admit to it but to also acknowledge feeling at least a bit guilty about it. "Well, yes, ma'am, but I am sorry about that. I do really feel bad about that."

Well, that was disappointing. That was precisely what she didn't want to hear. Mrs. Johnson even moved closer to Jason. Her breast, the one that had popped out, pressed against his shoulder. Jason caught a wisp of her perfume. It was strangely suggestive of Bridget's butterfly rosewood. "No, no, honey, please, don't feel bad. Of course, you would think of her." She rested her hand on his hands, which were clasped tightly in his lap. "You really shouldn't feel bad."

Jason's mother had obviously provided no guidance for him regarding how to discuss his sexual fantasies of the daughter with the mother, but this did remind him of when the mother pretends not to feel bad when you break or spill something and Jason's mother had been quite clear about that: You continue to express your remorse. "Oh, but I do, Mrs. Johnson. I really shouldn't have thoughts like that, about your daughter."

It broke Mrs. Johnson's heart to hear this. This is precisely the neurotic feelings of shame with which she was herself struggling, and it would be a real shame if it contributed to troubles in his relationship with Bridget or, even worse, the deterioration and ultimate destruction of their relationship. She needed to reassure him. "What sort of thoughts do you have about my daughter, you know, when you play with, um, yourself?" She leaned in closer, letting him know that she was there for him, and understood.

This really seemed like it was going too far. There was simply no way that he could tell Mrs. Johnson that he thought about her daughter sucking him off, but saying that he thought about making love to her seemed too obviously corny and phony. "I really find it kind of uncomfortable talking to you about this." This was probably his most honest statement so far, and it did help.

Mrs. Johnson did appreciate that she was perhaps asking too much and, frankly, she wasn't entirely certain that she wanted to know what fantasies he was having about Bridget. She must admit, though, that her own heart was racing at the thought of hearing him talk about, perhaps, Bridget kissing him, down there. She knew that boys must like girls to do that. Her husband can't really represent what is truly common or normal about such things. But, still, "I understand, Jason. That is really too personal, and what goes on between you and Bridget, well, I mean, what may some day go on, is not really my business." Now she was being dishonest. What Jason did with her daughter was her business and, therefore, what fantasies he might be having about her was probably her business as well. However, she would have to place some trust in him, and what was important right now was helping him to become comfortable in seeking an alternative to sexual relationships with her daughter. "What about me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Have you had fantasies about me?"

This might be an even harder question to correctly answer than the one about Bridget.

"I suppose, Jason, that you must have, at least one time since that Saturday. After all, mine was the first naked bosom you had seen." She pressed it into his arm to underscore her point, and it was the point of her nipple that was indeed being pressed into his arm, much to his consternation.

The correct answer must be the honest one, at least in this case. She could hardly have asked this question with the expectation of him having no such fantasies. "Well, yea, yea, I have, once or twice."

Mrs. Johnson was thrilled, in more ways than one. She was thrilled that she had been able to help Jason speak so openly about this, and frankly it was rather nice to hear that she could excite a young man. She may no longer be exciting her husband but she was at least a point of interest for this healthy, young man. She leaned in even further, pressing her breast further into his arm, and whispered into his ear. "And, what did you think about when you thought of me?" Fantasies about her daughter were perhaps none of her affair, but fantasies of herself could hardly be out of bounds.

"Oh, Mrs. Johnson, I don't know if I really should say. This is really very difficult for me, and, besides, Bridget should be getting here pretty soon," at least, he was hoping that she would be.

"The errand I gave her will keep her busy for at least another half hour." Mrs. Johnson removed her hand from Jason's, whose were really quite sweaty at this point, and slid the fingers of her right hand up and down his arm. "Now, Jason, be a good boy and tell Mrs. Johnson what you were thinking about when you played with yourself."

"Mrs. Johnson, please."

"It's perfectly alright, dear. I want you to feel comfortable with such matters. It's important that you do, not only for yourself but for the sake of your relationship with Bridget. You must have at least thought about my breast?"

Jason had thought about Mrs. Johnson's breasts a number of times. He thought about them the first time he saw them. No healthy boy wouldn't think about them. She had very, very full breasts. They were often hidden by an apron or a matronly dress but she did not need to dress provocatively for them to be noticed. Those breasts, accompanied by her engaging smile, were so very hard to ignore. "Yes, ma'am, I have," he quietly confessed.

"Now, see, that wasn't so hard, was it."

"Um, no ma'am," he said. Another lie. That had been very hard to say.

"Does it make you hard when you think of them?"

He thought he had said that. Why does she want to hear him say it again?

But, Mrs. Johnson very much enjoyed hearing him say it.

"Yea, yea, it does, I mean, it did."

It was perhaps a Freudian slip, but he had said it, and, like a true slip of the tongue, it wasn't a lie.

"It does? It does right now?"

Jason's clasped hands were hiding a budding erection. He wasn't entirely sure he really should feel this way, but talking about masturbating to fantasies about Mrs. Johnson's naked breasts while Mrs. Johnson was pressing her breast into his arm was, frankly, rather arousing.

Mrs. Johnson was now herself a bit flustered. She hadn't really thought something like this would happen, but perhaps she should have. Wasn't this precisely the point? What would a mother do if her son developed an erection? Would she shame him for it? Jim probably would do precisely that, sending the young Jason off feeling horribly guilty and traumatized, as if he was some sort of a pervert. And, besides, it wasn't like he had developed this erection with his actual mother. Mrs. Johnson was feeling very motherly at the moment. She felt like she was performing motherly duties, helping the young man with his young, budding sexuality, but she was not herself his mother. There was really nothing to be ashamed about. That was precisely the lesson she was trying to convey, and she should continue to do so. "Let me see it, Jason. Take away your hands."

"Mrs. Johnson!"

"No, I mean it. I don't want you to feel ashamed or embarrassed about this. Someday I may be your mother-in-law and I want you to feel completely comfortable in whatever may arouse, I mean, rise, arise, between us." She was obviously not that comfortable about this herself, but she knew that this was the right thing to do. In fact, to make it fully clear, she simply pulled away his hands from his lap and there, before her eyes, was the telltale sign of a young man's stiffie.

She was now herself speechless, at least for a moment. She was transfixed by the sight. He was indeed erect, at least partially. It was terribly provocative, and strangely thrilling. "Well, Jason, yes, I see it, and I must say, I think it's just fine. No, no, I take that back, I think it's in fact wonderful."

It was again Jason's turn to be speechless, at least for a moment. He hardly considered it to be wonderful. "You're really not upset, Mrs. Johnson?"

She definitely was not upset, at least not in the way he was thinking. "No, no, not at all, Jason. Of course, though, I don't think you should show such a thing to my daughter."

"Oh yes, of course not, Mrs. Johnson."

"I mean, that's my point, Jason. It's, uh, important, no necessary, for you to take care of your urges in some alternative way, to, well, you know, maintain the chastity, the pureness, of your relationship with Bridget. But, naturally, there will be times when you do become excited, like right now, and perhaps I should have appreciated that it could indeed happen with me, this afternoon, as we talked about my," her voice quieted, "my breasts."

Jason was beginning to appreciate that perhaps he was truly fortunate to have Mrs. Johnson be the mother of his girlfriend. She was certainly a very open and tolerant woman. As well as a very, very sexy one.

"After all," she smiled, "we are sitting together rather closely, aren't we and, my goodness, it's precisely that naughty breast that is pressed up against you, isn't it."

This reminder caused another surge in his pants, and that did not go unnoticed, as Mrs. Johnson was keeping a close eye on it. However, she also realized that she might be creating the problem that she was precisely trying to resolve.

"There is, however, one problem, though, Jason."

"Ma'am?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, but Bridget will be getting here soon. Well, not that soon, but within the next half hour and perhaps all I have done is just get you all excited, with no relief. Will you be okay with her?"

"Oh yes, certainly Mrs. Johnson, really, it'll go down by the time she gets here. I will just think about something else." That was not at all true. He knew full well that when Bridget came home, he would want some relief as soon as possible. He couldn't wait to feel her mouth, or her hand, on his stiff cock.

Mrs. Johnson slid back, away from Jason. It was nice of him to say this. He was indeed a good boy. But, she hardly wanted to be the reason that Jason might lose control with her daughter. "No, no, this just won't do. Jason, you do have time. Why don't you take care of it now?"

"Excuse me?"

"Before my daughter gets back. This is what I have been trying to say. You can masturbate here, now, get it out of your system, and when Bridget arrives the two of you can concentrate on your studies."

It would indeed help him control himself with her daughter, but she couldn't really be suggesting this, was she? "Mrs. Johnson, please, I can't, I shouldn't, masturbate, here, in your house, in your study. I don't feel right about that."

"Well, you need to do it somewhere, and I hardly want you to have to sneak off to the bathroom, like it was some sort of toilet activity. Here, I will stay here with you, to reassure you, to demonstrate to you that it is perfectly fine and natural. I will sit right by your side. It will be my way of offering support." It was also her way of being able to watch, but she wasn't about to say that.

"Mrs. Johnson! I can't do it in front of you!"

"Well, I don't see why not, but if that does trouble you, I promise I won't look. And, besides, I can be of some help." Much to Jason's surprise and shock, Mrs. Johnson began to unbutton her blouse.

"It was my breast that initiated this whole problem and it will be my breast, both of my breasts, in fact, that will help with the solution." Mrs. Johnson could feel the blood rushing to her face but she wasn't at all sure whether it was embarrassment or excitement. As she undid her blouse, she recalled one of the dreams that had so troubled her before and now it seemed to becoming a reality, yet it was no longer a nightmare. This would indeed be good for her as well, as she was, quite literally, confronting and conquering a nightmare.

"Mrs. Johnson, I really don't know if this is the right thing to do." Emotionally, Jason was feeling a little unsure about this. After all, Mrs. Johnson might be even twice his age. She was though awfully darn attractive. She had been a pretty girl when she was Bridget's age and was still a very striking woman. Beyond simply her rather prominent breasts, she had long shapely legs, wavy blonde hair, pretty green eyes, rosy cheeks, and sweet red lips that always seemed to be gaily smiling. Jason's cock wasn't so ambivalent. It was swelling as each button was unclasped, and reached its full erection when Mrs. Johnson parted her blouse to reveal a very lovely, very sexy, white lace bra that rounded and cupped her full breasts in such a delightful presentation.

"Do you like my brassiere, Jason?"

"Oh yes, ma'am. It's um, well, quite appealing."

Mrs. Johnson giggled at his awkwardness. Of course, he had no real experience or understanding about what would constitute an "appealing" brassiere. "Jason, would you mind please helping me with its clasp? It's always so difficult for me to reach behind my back. Jim usually helps me with this and, well, he is not here, of course." It was now Mrs. Johnson who was being completely dishonest, but it was a nicely seductive white lie. It allowed her to enjoy the experience of an innocent young man clumsily trying to undue her brassiere. Many women, and girls, naturally enjoy this. The boys are so clearly desperate to get it off, and their impatience is further compounded by their inexperience, yet they all want to convey the impression that they are smooth and suave. It's cute, and Jason didn't disappoint her.

Jason wasn't entirely inexperienced in removing a brassiere, but he had in fact only done it twice for Bridget, and even the second time was still clumsy, and Mrs. Johnson didn't help matters by keeping her blouse on so that he had to lean into her, reach around her back through her blouse, and figure it out by blindly blundering trial and error, at the same trying to avoid accidental contact of his chest with her breasts, which Mrs. Johnson appeared to be making more difficult by even thrusting her chest out, ostensibly to help him reach around behind her.

She further compounded his plight by taking the opportunity provided by their close proximity to rest her hand directly on the protrusion within his slacks. She acted as if it was just an accident and that she was not in fact even aware of the intimate contact, and that probably flustered him all the more. No young man is not going to find it rather embarrassing, to say the least, to be "accidentally" bumping his erection against the hand of his girlfriend's mother.

Mrs. Johnson at first giggled at his fumbling and embarrassment, but as soon as her hand made contact with his erection, she closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure; at long last, an erection and, she could tell, a rather stout one at that. She knew she would be as desperate to see his dick as he appeared to be to see her breasts.

"Got it!" Jason finally exclaimed, and gratefully pulled away from her enticing breasts.

Mrs. Johnson smiled flirtatiously at him as she slowly pulled the cups down off her breasts. "This will be the first time you see a woman's breasts, won't it Jason," although adding, somewhat embarrassedly, "or at least both of them."

It was still technically true and Jason simply nodded, his mouth becoming dry. There was really something uniquely appealing, erotic, in seeing the breasts of a woman, a true woman, and a woman with such large ones as Mrs. Johnson, and, once they came into view, they did not disappoint.

They were not nearly so firm, nor were they so perfectly shaped, as her daughter's, but that was in part their appeal. They didn't hang down or sag way down. They did still stand up well, but their shape was more oblong than round, and they appeared to jiggle and wiggle with just about any little movement. Jason knew that if he buried his face in these, they would truly envelope, absorb, and engulf him. He wanted to grab them so badly.

"Alright, Jason, let's see your penis."

"I thought you said you wouldn't look."

"Well, yes, not when you actually get started. But, it seems only fair that if I show you my breasts, you show me your penis. Isn't that how you kids would play?"

Jason didn't point out that a truly fair exchange would be for her to raise her dress and lower her panties, but one thing his mother impressed upon him was not to argue with the mother of your girlfriend, even when you knew full well that you had a valid point. He unbuckled his slacks and lowered his zipper.

Mrs. Johnson waited expectantly, her heart beginning to pound.

At the moment of truth, Jason did hesitate. Was he actually dreaming? Was he really about to remove his erection from his slacks to show it to Bridget's mother? This just didn't seem right. "What about Bridget?"

She responded with the same question, asking why he was asking. "What about Bridget?"

"Isn't this wrong? Should I really do this?"

"Jason, this is precisely for Bridget that you are doing this. This is to protect her virtue. Trust me, son. I am her mother. I know what is best, for her, and for the future of your life with her. Now, show Mrs. Johnson your Johnson."

She smiled at her joke, as did Jason, helping to ease the tension. He reached inside the fly of his slacks and then his boxers.

Mrs. Johnson's smile broadened as she was about to see, for the first time in such a long time, a stout erect cock, and even one belonging to a handsome young man.

She was not disappointed. Jason was not at all big, but his penis was so terribly firm, stiff, and proud, and capped by the shiniest purple plum she had seen in years. She loved plums. "Oh my, Jason, it's really very nice."

It is always nice to receive a compliment from your girlfriend's mother. You do want her to approve of you. He graciously replied, "Thank you, Mrs. Johnson."

"No, really, Jason, it's lovely. My goodness." She was truly feeling a bit flustered. She could feel her heart racing as she sat transfixed at the sight of the young tower, thrusting out from his slacks, a staunch ripe tool begging to be touched, to be felt, to be tasted. "You will make my daughter very happy one day."

"I surely hope so, Mrs. Johnson."

"Yes, well, alright then, why don't you, um, get down to business and take care of him. He really does look like he needs your attention."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. He clasped the shaft in his hand but, before he began to stroke it, he reminded her, "You said you wouldn't watch, Mrs. Johnson."