Mouse Bk. 05 Ch. 03

Mouse froze as Alicia walked toward her. She was going to have to hold the damn, cute, thing, she knew it. She knew it, and she waited impatiently for Alicia to insist.

<8 Attractions

"I'll see you there, then. 3 PM. Okay. Bye."

"Who was that?"

Doug asked the question with thinly veiled suspicion, which made Melanie both angry and nervous.

When Doug had been in eighth grade, Melanie and Dan were having problems. They fought constantly. They never touched, they never kissed. Everything, absolutely everything, was a battle between their different ways of managing their lives. They had to manage kids, finances, incomes, the household, their friends, and their lives together.

Melanie and Dan got caught going in two different directions on a one way street. They collided, they fumed, they fought. And the kids saw it all.

With time, things settled down. With some quiet, secret counseling, Melanie and Dan had found some middle ground. As the kids got older, they had found time to spend with each other. She thought it could never happen, but eventually they even rekindled the old flame. They both became interested in affection, and sex, and each other, again.

Yet since then, Doug had always worried that his mother and father would divorce. It usually seemed to be based on the idea that his attractive mother wasn't getting enough attention at home, and so would go looking elsewhere. It almost seemed that the more mature Doug became, that the more he learned about sex, the more he thought that that was what his voluptuous mother was looking for.

So now, while Melanie was making a simple, private lunch date with Kate, Doug guessed that she was having an affair.

"Just a friend," Mel answered, annoyed.

Doug scowled, but held his tongue. He was being silly. Dan and Rick were away again, visiting schools. Why in the world would Melanie have asked Doug to come home for the weekend if she were having an affair? So she could get caught by her son?

"I won't be out long. It's just my friend Kate. You jealous because I'm not having one little drink with you?"

Doug smiled grimly into the sports section as a typical, male, silent response.

"You'll have the place to yourself for just a short while. Not long enough to get into trouble," Melanie added.

"What about you? I thought you quit drinking."

"I did. I'll probably have a Shirley Temple or a coke."

"Yeah, right."

"Don't be fresh."

Doug looked at her uncertainly, so she smiled back to set him at ease. Mel felt most comfortable with her daughter Jenn, but of all of her three children, she liked Doug the best. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't just because he was the first, the oldest. She felt a real connection with Doug, with the way he behaved and the way he looked at things. Sometimes she wished that Dan were more like Doug.

"Well, I'm not getting into any trouble. I'm bored to tears here."

The fact was, she had asked Doug to come to keep her out of trouble. There would be no house parties this time. There would be no drinking to excess. There would certainly be no incestuous liaisons with her brother.

Doug's presence would keep her in line.

Melanie had actually begged Jennifer to come home as well. She figured between the two of them, she'd have no room to fuck up. Jenn said she had other plans. Melanie wondered, a little worried, if Jenn was enjoying the same sort of college experience that Mel had indulged in.

"You look pale," she told Doug. "Now that the days are getting warmer, you should take advantage of the deck to get some sun and some color. Not too much, just some. I've got a headache. I'm going to take a nap for a while before I meet Kate."

Melanie headed upstairs.

* * *

Once in her room, Melanie stole a quick drink from the bottle of scotch she and Dan kept in the room, to calm her down and help her relax.

Doug was initially going to bring his friend Washington. Washington was an intelligent, slightly built black boy. He wore glasses, making him look bookish. His manner of speaking was bookish, too, almost overly articulate. The boy was very, very smart.

Mel was disappointed when Washington had chosen not to come. Her obvious disappointment ultimately made her glad that he had cancelled. She'd had enough fantasies about the boy to know he was another chance at trouble for her.

In college, Mel had never indulged her fantasies about black men. There was a fairly large african american population at her college back then, but they tended to keep to themselves. The student population was much more self segregated. They had black fraternities, black parties, black lunch tables. Everyone was cordial and artificially integrated, but it wasn't real. Everyone knew it should be. The civil rights movement had begun long ago.

But it wasn't that easy. The two groups weren't comfortable with each other. They were very clearly separate groups, and they just didn't mix.

Mel had always regretted that.

* * *

Melanie was so close. Her body ached. Her spirit ached for the release. She was so close. In her mind, Washington's stiff, young black cock filled her mouth. His ecstatic moans filled her ears. His inexperienced, frantic hands clawed at her hair.

She was so close. Her own hands twisted her nipples ruthlessly. She dug three fingers deeply into herself, feeling her own slippery wet juices all over her fingers, all over the insides of her thighs, covering her hands, everywhere.

She was so close. She imagined him coming, covering her face with blasts of wet, hot cum. She let his big, black cock slip out of her mouth to bathe herself in his shower of male seed. She looked at his muscular, glistening black thighs. She studied his pinkish black cock up close, watching it jerk as it threw streams of cum straight at her eyes. She heard his loud, animal grunts as he came for her.

She was so close, but Melanie couldn't get over the edge.

She pictured Doug walking in, a look of expectant fear on his face. He'd know what he would discover, having heard the commotion through the door. He'd heard the sounds his his young, black friend sucked hard and dry by his own mother. He'd guessed what he find. He knew he should stay away, but he couldn't.

He would barge in to see his beautiful mother, fully clothed, lying across his friend's belly. His friend's jeans and boxers were pulled down to his ankles. A big, hard, black cock rested right across his mother's cheek, surrounded by huge gobs of cum. The combined look of rapture and embarrassment on his mother's face was startling.

He saw his mother. He knew what she'd done. He knew what his mother liked. He knew what she was.

Mel would be mortified if it happened, if her son discovered her reveling in his friend's dark black cock and shiny white cum.

Mel came. With the image of her son's shocked expression frozen in her mind, herself debased and caught, Mel came in a single, wrenching wave, followed quickly by another even more powerful climax. She worked her own clit frantically as she felt her tits exploding with electric sensations. Her entire body rocked with the image of her son's face in her mind, staring in awe at his whorish mother.

Regaining her composure, she locked her eyes on Doug's as she devilishly let him watch her licking the cum from the black cock lying against her face. She let him see his beautiful mother enslaved by a huge, young black cock. She closed her eyes, visibly relishing the taste of the cum as her son watched.

The sensations in her body slowly subsided as Melanie settled, amazingly relaxed, into the imagery and feeling of having been caught, so wickedly degraded, by her own son.

* * *

Melanie awoke in a fog. She rolled over to glance at the clock.

3:37 PM.

Good God.

Melanie fumbled frantically for her cell phone. There were several text messages. She'd accidentally left it on "silent," so it hadn't awakened her. She went straight to the most recent text.

"Can't wait any longer," was all it said. It was sent at 3:23.

Shit.

Melanie looked angrily at the bottle of scotch, then knew that the alcohol wasn't entirely to blame. She hadn't been sleeping well. She'd been living in a state of constant tension and stress for weeks. She'd been doing everything wrong, and paying the price, feeling tired and spent all the time.

She reached lazily over to take another drink, as she realized that the affects of the first two were still in her system. As she sipped the scotch, she remembered the beauty of the orgasm that had finally driven her into a peaceful slumber. Her lips curled ever so slightly at the memory.

The thing was, as wrenching and exhausting as the orgasm had been, she was far from sated.

Washington's young, black cock would be so, so good, if she could actually get hold of it. Any young cock would do, but that buck's deliciously sinful black prick would be a wicked treat. It had certainly done the trick in her fantasy.

She conveniently avoided the memory of her son in the whole montage.

* * *

Melanie wandered into Doug's room, not really knowing why. She wasn't really thinking now. She was just feeling, and floating, and experiencing. She looked around at his old high school trappings. This was really just a shed for him now, a bed and a place to sack out when using his childhood home as a place to sleep. He was finishing college now, moving on to law school. This was all a part of his past, not his present or his future.

Doug was a man now. She couldn't even think the words "little boy" any more. This wasn't really his room any more. It was more of a large closet full of memories. It was an old toy chest, left ignored after the boy had outgrown toys.

Melanie wandered over to look out the window, to take in the image of their perfectly manicured back yard, part of the personal queendom over which she'd held dominion for the past twenty years. Her queendom that was fading away.

Right below, if Melanie leaned close to the glass, she could see Doug sunbathing on the deck, lying comfortably in the heat on a cushioned recliner. She smiled warmly at his relaxed comfort, imagining that he had is iPod turned up far too loudly again, enjoying the warmth of the sun, his music, and the simple joys of life and youth.

Melanie admired his body for a moment. He had definitely grown into a fine young man. He was really beyond fine. He had good muscles, like his father, but they were better toned and well defined than Dan's had ever been, even in his own youth. Doug's body glistened enticingly in the sun with a mix of suntan oil and sweat.

Melanie realized with a start that he was naked, not just in a skimpy suit, but completely naked.

He was more than naked. He was jerking off.

Melanie lurched back from the window in surprise. Doug knew she was supposed to have left for drinks at 3 PM. He must have assumed that she had, and that he had the house to himself.

Melanie, recovering her composure, eased up to the window, leaning her forehead against the cool glass to watch. It was harmless enough. She was his mother, after all. She was curious, too.

It was hard to see from this distance and angle. The window was clouded with dirt and dust, too. She scolded herself for not washing these windows more often.

His body was nice. His cock was very nice. It wasn't as large or thick as Dan's, but it wasn't a toy. Looking at both, gleaming body and stiff cock, together, was more than nice. Melanie felt her body reacting to the sight.

Melanie backed away again, feeling a tinge of guilt. She'd never actually do anything with Doug. There was no way. She couldn't hurt him like that. Michael was bad enough. Mouse was bad enough. There was no way she was going to hurt her son that way.

But that didn't mean she couldn't watch for a while.

She needed a closer look, just a good peek, and then she'd be done. She would check him out for a moment, then get out to try to find Kate, to apologize, and to keep Doug from knowing she hadn't left on time.

She moved quickly to the door, half gliding down the stairs, almost hurried in her eagerness, but also very consciously careful, in her foggy state, not to stumble and fall. Walking down the stairs took more concentration than it should, she thought distractedly.

Once she approached the family room, with the sliding door to the porch, she slowed down, moving carefully and smoothly, or so she hoped, to be sure not to draw his attention.

Melanie was pleased to find that by leaning against the door frame just inside the room she had an excellent view of most of Doug's body, including his cock along with the strong, muscular arm and hand that worked it. Doug wouldn't notice her unless he stood up and turned. It was very similar to the angle she had used to watch Michael fuck Mouse that first time, she realized.

That thought made her hesitate. Her guilt weighed on her further. She knew this wasn't something she should do. She knew she shouldn't indulge this whim. But it was all so harmless, and easy. She wasn't going to do anything. She was just going to watch.

The rational, mature part of Melanie, the part that was always in control, told her that it wasn't that simple. It was never that simple. The easy thing was always a trap. She was making a mistake, again, and she knew it.

But that part of Melanie had been quite numbed by the scotch, while another, sinful part was fueled by it. And his thick, young cock did look so tempting.

* * *

It didn't take long for Melanie to touch herself. She was gentle with herself, for now, lightly circling her nipple with one long nail, matching Doug's rhythm as he moved his hand over his cock with a slow, deliberate glide. His cock glistened in the sunlight with very liberally applied suntan oil. The boy had prepared himself nicely, Melanie thought. The image was exquisite.

Melanie immediately surrendered to her thoughts, imagining herself at his side, on her knees. She didn't waste time with how or why she was there. She simply was. He didn't retreat, he didn't run or even startle. He was appropriately shy and apprehensive. He'd never been naked in front of his mother, not as an adult, certainly not with an impossible to ignore erection gripped firmly in one hand.

* * *

His cock was irresistible. He wouldn't run, Melanie imagined. He'd stop, of course. His hand would jerk away, to rest innocently at his side, a ridiculously, as if he hadn't been doing anything at all. But his cock would still be there, excitingly and undeniably hard before her, standing almost upright, like a well disciplined if drunken soldier.

He would stare at her, in panic. She'd avoid his eyes. She'd avoid making him uncomfortable. Uneasy.

She could study him for a while, nothing more. She would just stay there beside him. She would just look at him, not into his eyes, not at his face, just at his body, blatantly admiring it as it gleamed with oil in the hot rays of the sun. She could look at his hard, young cock, gleaming too, yearning for release, aching for the touch of a tender, experienced hand, providing him with the release the poor boy so wanted and needed.

She could reach out to him. With the slightest, most gentle touch, she could place her hand on his own, to guide it hesitatingly back to his cock. She'd let him know it was okay. There was nothing wrong. She'd help him. She'd ease her son's hand back to his cock, so he could stroke himself, for his pleasure, and for her, for her pleasure.

She kept her hand resting ever so lightly on his, after that. His own hand moved smoothly, slowly, gently up and down the length of his shaft. Her hand stayed with his, always in contact, a gesture of affection and encouragement. She touched only the back of his hand, nothing more. Even that was a feather touch, a whisper of air across the skin on the back of his hand. His hand did the same to his cock, touching it only lightly, almost afraid to squeeze it too hard, too obviously, in front of his mother.

Together they easily stroked his cock, even though she never touched anything more than the back of his hand.

His prick shimmered in the sun under a thick coat of coconut oil. The scent of it was strong, permeating the warm air while overpowering the musky, sweaty smell of his groin. The oil let his hand move so effortlessly up and down his shaft, free of all resistance or restraint.

They did this, together, for a long, quiet time. There was no hurry. Melanie was in no hurry. Doug was too shy and nervous to be in a hurry. She helped him, applying only the most subtle pressure, to keep moving his hand up and down his hard, beautifully smooth, stiff cock.

Occasionally, shyly, Melanie glanced up at him. If he was looking at her, which he did often, she quickly looked away. She couldn't look him in the eye. She couldn't let him see her looking at him. She couldn't let her son see the lust in her face.

When his gaze fell to her body, or to her hand touching his own, ever so close to his forbidden cock, then she could look. The she studied his face. His features were sharp and angular, like hers. It had the overlarge family nose, but his was even larger, with a pronounced bump in the middle. Most women probably hated that. To Melanie, it was attractive, and it made him all the more a part of her.

His face held an expression of calm tension. She wished she could ease it, that she could help him to relax.

Her eyes strayed down toward his chest and abdomen, admiring the youthful ripples and ridges of the muscles. One motherly hand reached out to touch him, again, ever so gently, tracing the lines and curves of his sinews.

The moment he looked her way, the hand on his body froze. Her eyes fell, dropping to the ground, then looking off, not at him, not at his body. She felt foolish when she did so. He was young. She was experienced, and always in control. She should be able to do as she pleased, without hesitation.

His free hand moved to hers, on his chest, urging her to continue, just as she urged him to stroke himself faster.

She couldn't look away for long. Her eyes were constantly, irresistibly drawn to his cock, his young, hard, delicious cock. The desire to touch it herself grew stronger.

His own eyes were visibly drawn to her breasts. It thrilled her to know he stared at them, that he was admiring them. They came to life without even a touch. She felt waves of pleasure building inside them, just at the thought of his gaze.

It was all taking so long. He'd been stroking himself now for too long, always with her guidance, at the pace she dictated, but it was taking too long. He was nervous and unsure.

Melanie knew what he wanted, what would help. She reluctantly, slowly drew back the hand exploring his body, using it instead to undo the top button on her blouse, and then the next, and then the next. Always keeping the one hand touching his, close to his cock, she used the other to push her blouse first off of one shoulder, then the other. It fell part way down, to rest across her back, sleeves bunched at her elbows, baring her shoulders and the tops of her breasts.

Her other hand had never strayed from his cock. It couldn't.

His eyes were now locked on her breasts, on the flesh exposed above the lace of her bra. She looked at his face then. It was filled with a longing that sent shivers through her.

One hand, and then, ever so reluctantly, the other, slipped awkwardly together up her back to find the clasp of her bra. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward, to more easily undo the clasp. Doug's eyes widened amidst an expression frozen in unexpected tension.

In a moment she had released it. Her bra slipped easily to the ground, letting her full, fleshy breasts free.

She panicked, then. He was young. He was used to younger, firmer tits than hers. He would be disappointed.