Joan & David Ch. 01

I glanced in through the back door into the dark kitchen, obviously I was late for my curfew and I knew that if my mother was not asleep she would more than likely be waiting in the living room to come in through the front door, all I wanted to do was go downstairs into my room, masturbate and go to sleep.

Tonight was one of those nights I would not soon forget, not that it had been anything too special (nothing to write home about, as some would say) but because of the sheer blue-balled torture I endured from eight in the evening until just after eleven, when I should have been home. My girlfriend, Ashley Gibbon, wanted to fool around a little though actual intercourse was out of the question. The fooling around turned into giving her an orgasm but she left me high and dry, never quite allowing me to cum but constantly getting me to that point—and then her parents came home which killed the mood as I tried to escape undetected, thankfully I think I accomplished that.

Every man, and boy, knows that the only way to get rid of the dreaded and painful syndrome of Blue Balls is to expunge the build up of semen by any means possible, and for now it looked like I would have to slip into one of my regular fantasies and paw off.

The lights all over the main floor seemed to be off, a good indication that my mom, Joan Hanson, went to bed and would not know that I broke curfew again, still I had to be careful parents had a funny way of impossibly hearing a back or front door opening and closing when a child comes in late. I dug my keys out from my front pocket, my finger brushed up against my flaccid shaft sending a wave of pleasure through my midsection making it clearly obvious Mr. Happy would not take long to become happy. I slipped the key into the lock as silently as I could, unlocked the deadbolt slowly as not to make a sound and slowly,very slowly pushed the door open. The door squeaked just a little, I stopped and pushed my way through the small opening, closed the door and locked it up once again.

It was then that I noticed the light streaming out from under the doorway leading down to the basement, the laundry room and my bedroom. I knew I turned off the light when I left, all of the laundry that needed to be washed was already finished which meant that my mother had no business down there except to see if I was home when my curfew came. Shaking my head I knew I was caught but I would think of that later, right now all I wanted was to remove the dull throbbing ache in my shorts.

Crossing the dark kitchen, still glancing into the kitchen I noticed something move in the living room,probably Garfield, I thought. Grabbing the doorknob separating me from the basement I heard something from the living room, I glanced over to the dark living room. What exactly did I hear; was it a grunt or a moan?

Letting go of the doorknob I walked slowly over to the open doorway between the kitchen and the living room, from my vantage point I could see Joan's feet pressed up against the armrest. I closed my eyes drew in a deep breath and sighed, she fell asleep on the couch and I had to wake her up. A couple of years ago we were in a car accident in the middle of winter, luckily me and the other driver were in perfect shape save for a few cuts and bruises but my mom was not so fortunate: her spine was pushed out of place, we found out very quickly that if she was not on a decent surface for sleep her back would ache terribly for a couple of days until it had a chance to straighten itself out, and I had to wake her which would start the Big Speech about Responsibility and Curfew. I reluctantly moved into the dark living room knowing my aching blue balls would have to wait even longer.

She whispered something under her breath in her sleep, the words were unintelligible but I thought I knew what might have been going through her head just by the sound of her voice. After all I did get Ashley off at least a couple times throughout the night. I shuddered, that simple tone of voice was not something I wanted to hear coming from my mother, that tone told me without a doubt that she could still have hungry feelings of sex—and no kid wants to know that about their parents; if possible I would guess most of the kids in the world would rather be ignorant and believe their parents weremoving furniturein the middle of the night and not having sex.

But what I saw when I leaned over the couch floored me; I froze in one spot not truly believing what I was seeing: I saw my mother's fingers gliding over up and down over her naked sex, after a short while she switched to light circles for a moment and back to moving up and down over her clit. My eyes saw a light sheen of wetness over three fingers, two rubbing up and down over her clit, the third pressed down on top of the first two, and a wet glint over her exposed, aroused and puffed lips. Her pink nightgown, one that dad bought her a couple months before he filed for divorce to be with some rich woman in Edmonton, was pulled or rode all the way up almost to her belly button. Her pubic hair, from what I could see to the sides of her hand, was light brown, neatly trimmed to the point where all of the curls were gone. Her legs, immaculately shaved within the past day or two, flexed and relaxed, pushed against the armrest of the couch and eased off, all in time with her fingers self-manipulation. She moved her hand up and off of her clit giving me a complete birds-eye view of her sex, she brought her hand to her mouth and lightly licked her fluids, I saw her pink lips folded back and puffed out glinting under the filtered moonlights from the drapes covering the living room windows before her hand guided itself back against her sex, as soon as her fingers pressed against her clit she moaned and whispered something under her breath again.

I saw her other hand move, it guided itself up to her chest and started caressing her hidden breast, first the left and the right, giving each a light squeeze before going to the other. My eyes flicked from her hand caressing her breasts to her other hand down below as she masturbate; my eyes followed her left hand, the hand squeezing and feeling her own breasts, then wandered down her chest, over her tight stomach and stopped at her belly. She pushed her hand up under her nightgown towards her breasts, from above I could see her fingers clasp her left nipple and gently squeeze, I listened to her gasp and looked down to her face.

That was when I realized I was no longer floored at watching my mother masturbate on the couch below me, it was also then that I knew what I was doing—watching my mother please herself—was about as wrong as if she watched me, but I could not pull myself away either. It was her facial expression of lust and pleasure with her mouth partly open and her eyes tightly shut that caught me, for the first time—and I do mean thefirst time—I saw my mother under a new light, in that moment I saw just how sexy she really was. In that moment Ashley's face and her beautiful naked body danced in my head but something was different, something was not the same. She was not as beautiful as my mother writhing on the couch in the middle of the night under the pale moonlight.

My eyes were fully enamored with watching my mother masturbate unknowingly in front of me but not my whole body,my hand wandered from the side of my hip across to my midsection, I did not have to go down any length to realize that I had a huge erection tenting against my jeans, as if on automatic my hand trailed down the length of my hardened shaft to the very start of my sac and slowly started back upwards to my sheathed head. I closed my eyes for a moment hoping that I would regain some sense knowing that watching my mother was wrong, instead I saw her in my mind, her hand gently stroking up under and along her slit. I could even see her finger pressing down against her clit and the shocks of pleasure being sent through her midsection. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to walk around the couch, drop to my knees and remove her hand just to place mine there to please her, to give her a wonderful orgasm, I wanted to do all of thatand cup my own sex in my hand and pleasure myself.

My silent reverie broke she gave out a shuddering groan, not an orgasm but close. My eyes forced themselves open, my hand rubbed a little faster over my hard cock buried cruelly behind a thick layer of black denim, I watched her starting to shiver as her fingers worked faster in circles over and around where I visualized her clit to be, her gasps increased in volume and frequency; her body shuddered and her back arched, went down and she breathed in a truly deep breath and slowed herself down.

Her hand dropped, her finger went from above her cock and slowly,agonizinglyslowly, went down towards the entrance to her vagina, I knew where her fingers were going and desperately I wanted to see her push that finger deep inside of her. My own hand, in the moments as her fingers trailed down towards the entrance to her sex, gripped my zipper and pulled it down, forced its way into my jeans and gripped my hard, hot shaft. I watched as her finger pushed it's way down against her entrance, as soon as the tip of her finger touched her hole I listened to her pleasant, needing groan and a moment later I watched as her fingertip vanished into her sweet, nubile body.

I thought I was going to cum right there in my pants!

I took in a deep breath, trying to make it as silent as I could, and started to stroke up and down slowly on my hard-on in my pants, feeling the intense heat radiating from beneath my boxer-briefs. I felt a slight wetness on a side of one of my fingers as it touched the head under my foreskin, again prompting me to go to her side and please her with my own hand. But I could not, just watching my mother masturbating was wrong and touching her would be worse, not to mention she would know, and probably be horrified.

Her finger slid deeper and deeper into her body, bit by bit her finger vanished into her own body, her back arched and she let out a long, hard groan. Her face tightened up in pure pleasure that almost doubled as a look of pain, until finally I watched as she engulfed her whole finger up to her knuckle, slowly she pulled her finger out recharging the sheen of her fluid—hernectar—and pushed the finger back in, her face relaxed and her breath quickened considerably. She moved her finger in and out of her body quickly, my paw stroking my own shaft at nearly the same speed, my eyes closed and opened intermittently from the pleasure I was giving myself.

Just as I opened my eyes I watched as my mother slid a second finger passed the folds of her lips and into her sex, almost instantly she gave out another cry of pleasure. Her whole body tensed, every muscle in her body flexed at once, in one moment she pulled her left hand out from under her night gown away from her supple, fairly perky breasts and as I pawed at myself I watched as she thrust her hand against the couch backing.

"Oh god!" She cried; I watched as her fingers clawed against the couch. Her toes curled against the armrest, her breasts pushed against her nightgown showing her hard, taunt nipples pressed up against the silky fabric. "Oh lord!" She bit down on her lip, I knew she was having her orgasm; her fingers thrust deep inside of her, immediately after she pulled them out and thrust them back in. "Take it out!"

And then her eyes flashed open, orientated directly on my with my hand in my pants wrapped around my hard cock, stroking quickly and controlled. She closed her eyes again, her left hand reached out and grabbed my shirt in a balled fist. Her cries of her orgasm were astounding, and I was scared as hell.

"Please David!" she cried, my name.

My name! She criedmy name. A warm chill washed down my spine, not a cold and scared chill, a warm and welcomed chill. Her grip loosened on my shirt, her body started to wither and droop back down towards the couch cushions, and then her eyes opened with clarity she could not have a moment ago. She opened her eyes and saw me with my hand in my pants masturbating; even though she cried my name and opened her eyes the first time I could not stop pawing myself.

"David." She said slowly through panting breaths. Her flushed face and her heaving chest somehow made her that much more appealing, but even so I pulled my hand out from my pants and backed away a step. I felt my cheese blush a deep, deep red. "David, you watched me…" She said and sat up on the couch. "…you watched me masturbate."

"I-I'm sorry." I whispered, now I felt nothing more than like a wicked pervert. "I-I'll…I'll go…"

"No." She said. And that was that, or so her voice said. She did not want me to leave, and when her voice was as soft and as calm and collected as it was now shemeantit. "Come sit beside me."

Submissively, maybe knowing this should have been the time I actually just walked away, maybe nothing would be said again, but I did not leave. I went around the couch and sat down, sheepishly I became interested in my socks. I could still feel my hard shaft pressing against my shorts, now I could also feel my hard-on against my pants. My mother's nightgown dropped enough to hide her genitals, bunched up hiding her fur, still giving me a good look at her shaved, smooth and supple legs and a shadowy hint of what treasure lies below—just a small hint, like a memory.

"You were late." She said. "It's almost one."

I opened my mouth to dispute the fact that it was almost one when I entered the house, I remembered checking my watch as I walked into the backyard and it was only quarter after midnight, but I said nothing, if I did she would know how long I was watching her from above. I closed my mouth and nodded.

"You also watched me masturbate." She said unnerving me with her easy going, calm voice. She turned to look at me, raised her hand and pulled my chin up, turning my head to meet her eyes with mine; she used the same hand she masturbated with. I could smell the fragrance of her fresh nectar, the wetness staining my skin.

All I could smell was her sweet orgasm under my nose, an intoxicating smell I wanted to rub myself against like a cat rubbing against a toy draped in catnip, for a moment I almost thought I might nuzzle up against her hand just to spread the smell, but I had more pressing matters (forgive me for the pun) at the moment. I answered her comment with a guilty nod, I felt horrible for what I had done and now the scolding would come but I doubtedI'm sorrywould make this all go away. What I had done was virtually unforgivable. I felt like a man being caught watching child porn.

"You were masturbating, were you not?" She asked.

A plain and simple question with a simple answer, to which I nodded, but that seemed to make everything even worse for me, at least if I just watched it would not look nearly as perverted as it actually was now that she knew I had my hand in my pants. I dropped my head, bit my lip and nodded, all I wondered is if my mother would ever forgive me for tonight. I wished I was just late, I wished I did not go into the front room after hearing anything and just went downstairs to paw off and sleep.

She cleared her throat, after a moment she raised my head to eye level again, now she had a smile, almost a dreamy smile. She looked me over for a moment, orientating on my crotch, though I knew my hard-on was receding I knew it was still over half-hard.

"Take it out." She whispered. She bowed her head and kept her eyes on my crotch.

I did not move, for a long moment I just stared at the top of her head not knowing what to say and worse, not knowing what to do. She wanted me to take out my half-hard penis from my pants and expose myself to her. I bit down on my lip again, the last time I saw her sex was when we took baths together when I was more than a decade younger, now I had seen hers in action and she wanted to see mine.

"Take it out." She said in her calm, collected,do as I sayvoice.

I nodded, what else could I do against that voice and the fact that I had seen her pretty much naked? Taking a deep breath, I reached down with both hands, unbuttoned my pants with one hand and pulled my shirt up to reveal a decent stomach—a five-and-a-half pack—with just a little fur around my belly button and a slight treasure trail leading down towards my crotch. Now sitting on the couch with my pants unbuttoned, unzipped I revealed my light grey boxer-briefs to my mother, I saw my half-hard penis pressing against the fabric with a wet spot at the tip of my head. I bit my liphard, now completely embarrassed at the precum which soaked a small circle showing my arousal.

"You liked watching me!" She whispered in astonishment. "Youreally liked watching me, did you not?"

I said nothing. Instead I followed her orders and pulled down the front of my boxers exposing my purplish-pink somewhat hardened head along with an inch of my member to her, I could see a slight sheen on the upper half of my tip surrounding my small slit from the precum.

"Take itall out." She said. "You saw all of me."

I stood up and nodded, grabbed the waist of my jeans and pulled them down exposing my somewhat dark haired legs and all of my boxers with my half hard-on pressing up fully visible against my underpants with an inch of the shaft and my head sticking out. I put my thumbs in my underwear and hesitated before pulling them down, for a moment I thought my mother was going to laugh at my size, thought the thought left when I was reminded that Angel, my first and only partner, never complained about anything I did or my size. She actually complimented me, though neither of us knew how big (or small) I really am; I refused to measure. After the moment of hesitation I pulled my underwear and my pants down below my knees to my ankles, my penis dropped to half-mast in front of me, curved downwards from gravity.

I sat back down on the couch beside my mother, even though both of us have seen each others genitals over and over in life this was different, now we have seen each othersmaturegenitalia, I knew what her femininity looked like and she now knew what my maleness looked like. I chuckled silently, not like my mother was not used to seeing the penis, after all I was created.

"Very nice!" She whispered, almost as if she was in awe. I was brought back to the moment, to thepresentsituation. I turned to my mother, her eyes caressed my midsection almost as heated as my eyes caressed hers.

I looked down, unbelievably I watched the half hard-on I sported start to stiffen up, my penis started to defy gravity and straighten up as it grew, for possibly the most times in my life I blushed again. Still, I did not think it would take much to harden up again, not with watching the pleasant sight of my mother naked from the waist down, masturbating herself and playing with her own nipples with the scent of her orgasm filtering through my nose brought by her own hand.

"Oh, thatis nice…" She whispered, both of our eyes were on my hard, heated cock. Silently, in words only I could hear, it screamed to be used. I breathed in deep, it wanted to be touched, licked and sucked until it exploded, releasing by blue balled ache. "Now, I want to watch you masturbate."

I glanced at her, she looked almost hungry enough to eat me, or reach out and touch me, almost hoping that she would I waited for a long moment, when it became apparent that my hopes were not going to be fulfilled I nodded and reached down. I felt my heart racing in my chest, I tried to find out whether it was nervousness, desire or just plain need to get off. The answer did not come to me, what did was the quickening of my mother's breath as I wrapped my hand around my shaft, glancing over to her I saw her eyes almost glued to my hand and my hard cock therein.