Making Mom Tap Out

"I'm not tapping out, so you'll be at it a while."

"I'm fine with that."

"Well... so am I." His mom twisted, her body rubbing against his, hot and soft.

There was a sudden shift as she released her leg hold and tried to scamper free. Robbie grabbed her around the waist and fell backward. She landed on top of him, her butt sliding along the entire length of his stiff shaft as the mattress bounced them around like porn stars in their first shoot.

Her breathing was like an aphrodisiac on his ears. Her smell, a mixture of feminine sweat musk and flowery deodorant, was intoxicating. He laughed in her ear as he ran his hands up her body. She seemed to tense rather than struggle as his fingers groped her thigh and the palm of his other hand groped her breast.

He expected her to finally snap and call him out. Wrestling was too thin of a pretense to allow him to openly molest her. He wasn't even sure what his goal was anymore. Did he still want her to back out in favor of Brenna? If so, why did the idea of her refusing to tap out make his cock so goddamn hard?

His mother slowly tightened her thighs, pinching his cock between him. He was the one to lose his focus this time, tensing and groaning at the insane pleasure. His mom grabbed one of his arms and made a show of pulling on it as she started rocking her hips.

It was dry fucking, plain and simple. The angle of his cock against her pussy was within that dangerous range where, sans clothes, it would have simply slipped in as though attracted by a higher force.

Robbie grabbed his mom's tits, crossing his arms over so the hold was still tight enough to arguably serve a purpose. He felt her squeeze her thighs tighter in response. He bounced her around, with the help of the mattress. There was a spot of sweat underneath where she'd been laying before. Was that sweat?

"Oh fuck!" she whispered.

He almost called her out for breaking character, but his words came out differently than expected. "Yeah? You like that, super slut?"

"Oh fuck! Robbie!"

She started rocking her hips faster and faster, thighs still tight around his member. Robbie felt like he was flying. He kissed her neck and squeezed her to him. The edge of his vision pounded, and the pleasure seemed to build and coalesce not just in his crotch but his stomach and legs and chest.

It was too much. Oh god.

He tried to roll her off him as he realized that he was in the danger zone. His body didn't cooperate anymore than his mouth had a second earlier. He flipped his mom underneath him and started humping her ass. The sensation of her plump cushion against his crotch and cock was what set him off.

He pounded forward into her, grunting as he came in his sweatpants. The sticky warmth of his seed matting against his pubic hair was like having a bucket of ice water dumped on him in a hot shower. Insane, mind melting pleasure morphed into the deepest horror and shame he'd ever experienced in his entire life.

"Mom..." he muttered.

"Robbie?" She rolled over, face flushed and embarrassed, breathing heavy. Her eyes darted down to the horribly obvious cum stain showing on his grey trousers.

He looked away before letting himself see her reaction. She slowly rose to her feet and hurried to the stairs. He wasn't far behind her. He felt like a little boy running after being caught with a stolen dessert as he slammed his door shut and collapsed at his desk.

The plan had been to weird her out. He was pretty sure he'd accomplished it a little too well.

***

Alison poured herself another glass of wine. She'd tiptoed back downstairs after catching her breath. The remnants of the Chinese food sat on the kitchen table in front of her, but she had only whispers of an appetite. Robbie still hadn't come downstairs since they'd had their little wrestling accident.

And it'd been an accident on both sides. She wondered if he'd feel less embarrassed about what'd happened if she admitted to him that she'd almost come too. Those words he'd whispered into her ear would be forever burned into her mind alongside a few other select pieces of genuinely hot dirty talk that had been growled at her over the years.

You like that, super slut?

She blamed herself, not him. She could have called for a break the second she'd felt him getting hard. Her reasoning for continuing, at the time, had been to keep from embarrassing him. Even then, the excuse had tasted like the lie it was.

She'd been fascinated by her son's hard cock. That was the horrible, shameful truth. It'd left her wondering if nearly every man she'd slept with had been small or under excited. It sometimes took her working for long minutes to even get Jeff hard in the first place. Robbie's had just suddenly sprouted into existence like he'd shot it out of a spear gun.

Alison massaged her temples and tried to think through a solution to the mess she'd made. Well, again, the mess had been mutual. She touched her crotch and knew that it was her son's cum that she felt crusted on her shorts. There'd been enough of it to leak through his sweatpants. She'd seen a stain on the mattress, but she wasn't sure if that was from him or her.

How the hell had she let things get so weird, so fast? In the span of a ten-minute wrestling session they'd tested and frayed the absolute limits of a loving relationship. She still wasn't sure if she was ready to talk to him or even what she'd say, but she knew she had to do something.

She called Brenna.

"Slow down," said Brenna. "Start over. You convinced Robbie to play the Joker for your little wrestle tease."

"I did." Alison breathed out and forced herself to continue. "We've been rehearsing."

"As you should be, given that the show is the day after tomorrow."

"It just got a little... weird tonight," said Alison. "For Robbie, more than for me."

"He's your son," pointed out Brenna. "I thought some stuff like that might crop up. When I told you to have Robbie fill in, I didn't think you'd do the same kind of routine you do with Jeff."

"Why didn't you say that at the time?"

"I thought it went without saying."

Alison groaned and sank down on the table, still holding the phone. "I just feel so bad for him. He's in such good shape, and so young. He shouldn't have to go through the emotional torture of having to do something like this with his mother."

"I mean... I doubt he's tortured by it," said Brenna. "I bet he's really confused by it, for sure, but I wouldn't go as far as tortured. Did he seem like he was enjoying it?"

Alison bit her lip. "It seemed like he was really enjoying it. Right up until..."

No. There still had to be some lines. She wasn't about to tell Brenna that she accidentally made her son come in his sweatpants. Did that really even happen? She wished she could convince herself that she'd somehow misinterpreted moment, hadn't smelled that familiar scent or seen the obvious stain.

"I think I know a solution," said Brenna.

"I was praying you'd say that," said Alison.

"Text what time you guys are planning on rehearsing at tomorrow and I'll come by and help you out."

"Thanks, Bren."

She didn't try knocking on Robbie's door again before going to sleep. He needed space and so did she. He was already up and out of the house when she woke up the next morning, which stung her heart a bit. She could understand the impulse to avoid her, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

She texted him to check up on him. His response to her question of whether he was okay was a frustratingly short yea. She let him know about how Brenna was going to help them rehearse that night, and he said he thought it was a good idea. It felt like a small step in the right direction, a small step back onto the right path.

Alison headed out to get groceries and spent the rest of the day cleaning. Robbie came home late in the afternoon, not long before Brenna was scheduled to arrive. She waited for him in the living room, legs and feet bare underneath her sleeveless summer dress.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey." He shrugged as he replied, as though her just being in his presence asked a question.

"We should talk," she whispered. "About last night. Our rehearsal."

He nodded slowly as he walked over to the couch. He collapsed onto it next to her and let out a sigh, shoulders sagging.

"I know," he said. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just got... way too into it and..."

He shook his head. Alison touched his shoulder soothingly. He didn't have to say it. Neither did she. They could talk about it without having to say it, right? It wasn't that big of a deal.

"It wasn't your fault," she said. "You're eighteen. We were wrestling around. I wasn't exactly wearing all that much. It could have happened to anyone."

That's it, she told herself. No big deal. Just a little fender bender. A little accident. Accidents happen.

"It didn't happen with anyone, though," he pointed out. "I just got so hard."

She sucked in a breath at his word choice and spoke with a soft but warning tone. "I know, sweetie. But it wasn't your fault. I was also... really into it."

"I could feel that you were, Mom," he said. "I couldn't stop thinking about it last night."

Neither could she. But if she admitted that to him it felt like it would be losing control of the situation at the edges.

"You can think about it all you want," she said, forcing a smile. "We were just wrestling, Robbie. It got a little wild."

"It just felt so good to touch you," he muttered. "To hold you and feel you against me. And the way you kept squirming..."

"Mmm, I know, sweetie," she whispered. She set her hand on his knee and squeezed. "It was just rehearsal. We were both in character. I didn't even notice... anything weird."

She didn't even hear herself, didn't understand why she was saying what she was saying. Why had she even bothered calling Brenna and trying to get her help? She could smooth this out with Robbie. They could keep going, as they were. The idea of simply jumping into another rehearsal that night held such an intense draw. It made her feel hot, and not just in her face.

"You said you wanted to get Brenna's help," said Robbie. "I thought we might get to this point eventually. But Mom... I think I want to do it with you."

"Oh, Robbie, you can do it with me." She rubbed his leg and leaned in closer. "You will do it with me, hun. Brenna's just going to help us out a bit."

"You're not worried?"

She shook her head, but it wasn't the truth. She was worried, but in all the wrong ways. Worried about what she might let happen. Aware of the danger of leaning into a situation that was clearly already out of her control.

"We haven't even had our dress rehearsal yet." She let hand slide a bit further up his leg. Just teasing him a bit, she told herself. She'd touched more than that the previous night.

She took a breath and tried to force all the weird emotions away. The situation wasn't as crazy as it seemed. She could call it off at any time. Robbie was even checking in with her, making sure she was comfortable.

She'd raised him right. She could imagine him having a similar conversation with a new lover, maybe. But that was a ridiculous comparison. She was his mother, for god's sake. The situations were nothing alike.

He leaned over slowly, taking his time in a way that made hyper aware of his presence. He kissed her on the cheek and then stayed close.

"I'm glad we could work this out, Mom," he whispered. "So glad."

"Me too, Robbie."

The moment held for long enough for Alison to wonder if he was going to kiss her again, this time on the lips. Bizarrely, she began hoping that he'd simply fall into character right there and then and try to pin her on the couch. She brushed the thought away instead of turning it over as a knock came at the door.

***

Robbie felt oddly conflicted as Brenna hugged his mom and smiled at him. She was pretty, in some ways more classically attractive than his mother.

Tall and thin with high cheek bones, she had a serious hometown supermodel aesthetic. Her boobs and butt were compact and functional compared to his mom's generous assets. Robbie felt something evil twist inside him as he made the comparison.

"You're looking well, Robbie," she said, in a playful voice. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Brenna," he said. "How about you?"

She'd always treated him like an adult. She wore sunglasses, a flirty white blouse that emphasized her waifish figure, and tight jeans. Her dark hair hung in loose curls on either side of her face.

"Your mom said you were having some problems getting into your little wrestling show." Brenna spoke the words in a teasing voice that sounded almost sensual in light of recent events. "I thought I would stop by and see if I could help you guys out."

"Thanks, Bren," said his mother.

"We were just talking about it, actually," said Robbie. "I think we came to... an understanding."

He was so confused. He had wanted to wrestle Brenna in place of his mom, but that'd been before they'd gotten into it. The idea of wrestling Brenna still had a certain erotic appeal to it, but her beauty was in her face and waistline. She was the kind of woman who would look good on his arm, rather than one to roll around with on the mat.

She represented a way out. Why wasn't he seizing it? He still remembered how ashamed he'd been after his little accident the night before. Was it worth risking another, with his mother, of all people?

At least with Brenna there might be a chance of them doing something consensual and legal to solve any unexpected boners that popped up. He felt himself getting hard as the pinch of his mother's thighs came back to him. He remembered the lurid tenor of her voice, the panic of her arousal.

Oh fuck, Robbie!

"Here." Brenna had been rifling through her bag and was now handing him something. Robbie accepted it with a furrowed brow and a shake of the head.

"Uh..." He turned it over, identifying that it was some type of weird cushion with adjustable bands in back. "What's this?"

"The solution to your problems," said Brenna. "A makeshift crotch guard. I did a shoot a while back with two married models. Married to people other than one another, that is. They used these to keep the contact of their naughty bits from being quite so naughty. They've been thoroughly washed and scrubbed in the time since, for your information."

"Oh, okay." His mother also had one and was smiling politely. "Thanks, Bren. This is... really thoughtful."

"Now, you have to tuck them into your costumes pretty well," said Brenna. "Over your underwear but under everything else. It should make sure that you and Robbie don't have to think too much about how you're moving against each other."

"It's got to be like an inch thick," muttered Robbie.

"That's the point," said Brenna. "Better than grinding on each other when you're mother and son."

Robbie saw his mom look away and turned his own gaze down as though his feet had become wildly compelling. Hearing the judgment in Brenna's voice made it real again.

They weren't the Joker and Wonder Woman wrestling under fictional pretenses. The world still existed outside of their living room. Consequences still existed even they weren't written into their scripted little wresting routine.

"Try them on with your costumes," said Brenna. "I'll hang out here in case you guys need help getting them on or adjusted or whatever."

They both did. His mom's Wonder Woman costume was a lot skimpier than he'd been expecting. Most of the craftsmanship seemed to be in the top, which cupped her tits into a perfect bouquet of plump cleavage. The skirt was pleated cloth, more reminiscent of a classical school girl outfit then true superhero garb. At the very least, the skirt hid the thickness of the crotch guard.

Robbie looked and felt like he was wearing a diaper under his costume. He had the joker mask on, a latex thing that was a little annoying to see and breathe out of. He wore no shirt, just suspenders, along with purple slacks and black shoes. The crotch guard squeaked slightly as he moved.

"Go through your routine," said Brenna. "Get a feel for how you move in them."

They did just that. It felt soulless, lacking the intensity and stakes that had seemed so exciting before. They tried the falling tower with no mattress and it worked perfectly, but their celebration was a muted high-five.

"There's one other stunt we do after this," said his mother. "Hold your arm out."

Was he picking up on a hint of boredom in her voice? He tried to tell himself that it was better than toeing the evil line they'd been walking, but it felt like a lie.

"Like this?" He lifted his right arm straight out to the side.

"Perfect." She grinned and he saw a flash of spirit. Running forward, she grabbed his arm like a gymnast and swung herself up into a quick assisted flip. Robbie laughed, amazed at her agility even despite being otherwise disheartened.

"Now," said his mother. "I keep hold of one of your arms, twist, and you go down."

Robbie flopped onto the floor. "I'm down."

"And then I pin you." She lamely pressed herself down over him. Robbie saw one of her hands graze his crotch, but the guard deadened the sensation completely.

Brenna clapped and laughed in the background. "That was so cool! You guys are going to be the stars of the show."

"Yeah," said Robbie. "I can't wait."

His mom pulled him to his feet, holding onto his hand to kiss the back of it. "Oh, come on, Robbie. It'll be fun."

She smiled at him in that way of hers, like she was trying to cheer him up without a good way of doing it. He felt ashamed of how disappointed he was. Especially after how traumatic the previous night had been for them both. Why would he want to keep playing with fire?

Brenna left. The rest of the evening was uneventful. Robbie awoke the next morning feeling horny in that unmotivated way where he didn't feel like doing anything about it.

It was Saturday, and the fundraiser was that evening. His mother was called into the gym by a shift in one of her client's schedules. She promised him she'd meet him at the fundraiser that night.

Robbie arrived at the old gym where the event was being held fifteen minutes early. Some of his friends were already inside, and he said hi to them. They were as eager to whisper about the women they'd already seen in costume for the tease show as they were to congratulate him on taking part, even if it was with his mother.

His mood lightened as he walked around and took in the generous amounts of eye candy on display. Nearly all of the women in their scantily clad superheroine costumes were the mothers of friends and acquaintances, or in some cases, sisters. He was excited to still have access to the dressing room, but that excitement deflated as he made his way to the back and discovered that it was subdivided by gender.

The thought came to him as he started to put on his costume that he had the option of simply forgoing the crotch guard. He could tell his mother that he lost it or forgot. She'd be angry, undoubtedly, but the thought of her discovering it through their movements while wrestling and trying to flex her ire mid-match made him strangely excited.

There was no point -- if she wore hers anyway, he'd still barely feel like he was doing much more than humping a rubber pillow. Robbie groaned and, not for the first time, wondered why he was so fucked up. His phone vibrated. He turned the screen on to find a text from his mother.

Call me as soon as you get this.

He called her immediately and she picked up on the first ring.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey. What's up?"

"I talked to your father." His mom let out a sigh. "He decided he's not comfortable with us doing the show after all."