No Monkey Business: Week 02

When I woke up on Saturday morning the house was silent and mom was nowhere to be found.

It was a week since she had called me into her room and asked me for a little favor. I was heading to college imminently and mom was scared. For eighteen years I had been her closest and, as far as I knew, her only friend. Now I would be leaving. There would be a son-shaped hole in her life, one she intended to fill by having a second child.

The flaw in mom's plan was that it was a minor miracle that any man had gotten close enough to get her pregnant the first time, a second miracle seemed unlikely. Below clothes that the Founding Fathers would have called frumpy was the body of an angel. But mom's face, the only part of her that she ever showed the outside world, was, well, not so angelic. Although you might see something like it if you went to church, most likely on those gargoyles they have up near the roof.

Given that, it was no surprise to me that mom's online pleas for a man to impregnate her went unanswered. And so she turned to me. My mom had asked me to be involved in the process, if you catch my drift. She wanted me to help her get pregnant, if you see what I mean. She wanted to fill that son-shaped hole in her life by having her son fill her hole, if you grasp my meaning.

I had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to donate my sperm to mom twice a day for the two weeks before I left for college. Obviously we couldn't have sex. That would be incest, which is just plain terrible. Instead, mom wanted me to masturbate to the point of no return, guide my cock inside of her with the precision of a bored gynecologist, wait a few seconds to finish, then withdraw and go back to whatever it was I was doing before the minor inconvenience of cumming inside my mother. That would totally not be incest. Everyone's a winner.

Problems had arisen almost from the start. One of the cardinal rules of our arrangement was There Shalt Be No Thrusting. Thrusting was tantamount to sex in mom's eyes, and like I said, we totally weren't having sex. Now, mom's pussy was the first that my cock ever had the pleasure of being inside. It was warm, it was tight, it was oh so very wet. But simply chilling out inside it wasn't quite enough to cause my orgasm to spontaneously burst forth, no matter how close I was when I entered. We came up with various work-arounds to this: jerking into my hand with just the head inside mom, thrusting myself against mom's heavenly ass or over her pussy, or even using her panties as a barrier to stop my cock going more than a few inches inside her. As the saying goes: if it's only a few inches, then you can't call it incest! At least, I think that's a saying.

The previous morning mom had decided that thrusting your penis inside a woman's vagina really isn't the same as sex, when you get right down to it. At least, not if you only thrust a few times. In the interests of maximizing her chance of conception she had decided to allow just a handful of thrusts inside her when I was about to cum. How many thrusts constitute a handful was a question we had strived to answer the previous night inside the stall of a gas station's public bathroom. Then outside the stall. Then in the back of my car. We didn't seem to have a definitive answer yet, and I was looking forward to studying the problem in greater detail today. Except, as I said way up there, mom was nowhere to be found.

Our house was comfortable but not exactly huge. There were two bedrooms upstairs; mom's had an attached bathroom and there was a separate bathroom that I used. Downstairs there was a large kitchen, a medium lounge, and a small laundry room with a door leading to our modest back yard. With so few rooms to search it didn't take me long to check them all and confirm that I was indeed alone in the house.

It wasn't even eight o'clock yet, so I couldn't fathom where mom would be. I returned to my room to don a t-shirt and some shorts that were more respectable than the boxers I had been wandering the house in, then went back downstairs and headed out of the front door. Mom wasn't in our front yard, but her car was. I wandered over to the road and looked up and down it. Still there was no sight of mom, though I did see our neighbor Mr Brownling mowing his lawn across the way. I raised my hand in greeting but he ignored me. The houses down our road were carefully spaced so no two were directly opposite each other, as if they were all embarrassed about the prospect of making eye contact with another house.

I hung around in the yard for another minute, but there was a chill in the air at this time in the morning in early fall, so I soon headed back inside and sat myself down at the kitchen table. To be honest I didn't know whether to be worried or not. I'd never known mom to go on early morning walks, but then I wasn't exactly an early morning person. Maybe this was normal for her and I'd just managed to miss it until now. But part of me worried that it was something more serious. Our session the previous night had been intense. Far more intense than earlier ones, in fact. I felt like we had started to cross some line. This wasn't just a son harmlessly jerking off to cum inside his mom anymore, it was in danger of getting weird.

What if mom thought we'd gone too far and hated me for it? What if she hated herself for it? What if she'd woken up and fled the house never to return? What if she hated herself so much she was going to take her own life? What if she hated me so much that she was just out there finding some sharp implement in order to come back and take my life? What if-

"Steven! You up yet, honey? I'm home!"

I heard the front door click shut then mom walked into the kitchen, acting as if nothing at all was the matter.

"Mom!" I said, my emotions feeling like someone had taken all the characters from Inside Out and thrown them in a blender. "What's the matter?"

Mom just frowned at me. "Nothing at all," she said. "We were out of milk. I just walked over to the store to get some." She held up her hand to show me the half gallon jug of milk she was holding. I felt tension ebb from my body and rubbed my face to restore some sanity to the brain behind it. Mom was busy getting out breakfast supplies and didn't seem to notice my reaction as she continued talking. "I saw Mr Brownling on my way home, mowing his lawn. I stopped to have a chat but he didn't seem interested."

Given how introverted mom normally was I was impressed that she'd tried to talk to our curmudgeonly neighbor. "Isn't there some law against using a lawnmower at this time in the morning at the weekend?" I asked. Mr Brownling's house was far enough away to make the sound of his mowing too quiet to be really annoying, but also too loud to ignore completely.

Mom turned to face me and tapped her chin as if pondering this deeply. "No," she said at last, "not quite. I think the closest thing in this state is one of those weird old laws that's never been replaced. You know, you can mow your lawn first thing in the morning as long as you're not riding on the back of a bear."

I laughed. "Ah, one of those. You can only eat three slices of pizza at one sitting unless you have written permission from the Pope."

Now mom laughed. "You can only buy a toothbrush on Sunday if you don't buy toothpaste at the same time."

I tried to think of another one but mom beat me to it. "No sex in the back of the car unless both people are wearing a seatbelt." Mom cast her eyes down slightly and a pink tinge appeared in her cheeks. "Whoops," she added softly.

I felt my own cheeks heating up. I didn't know what was weirder: the fact that I was now having amazingly erotic sessions with my mom twice a day and loosing enough cum inside her to fill the milk jug on the table, or the fact that when we weren't in the throes of one of these sessions I became embarrassed talking about them.

Mom clearly had the same issue as her cheeks were in no rush to lose their color. She turned on her heel and took the milk to the fridge and resumed getting breakfast ready. I stood up and helped, partly because I wanted to distract myself and partly because I was famished.

With two of us working on it, breakfast soon materialised and we dug into it with gusto. The food vanished from our plates in a fraction of the time it had taken to appear, leaving mom and me to nurse our glasses of orange juice. "So," said mom after a few minutes, "it's been a week."

This had been on my mind since the previous night, but it hadn't occurred to me that mom would be as aware of the time as I was. In a week I'd be leaving for college, and either mom would be pregnant or... well, I didn't really know if she had a backup plan. Maybe she would follow me to college and continue our sessions until she had a child in her belly. But no, mom had made it clear that she wanted me to live my life. It would be difficult to enjoy a normal college life if my mom was loitering nearby, constantly trying to squeeze in a clandestine session of me cumming inside her. Pleasurable? Absolutely. Normal? Alas not. Lost in these thoughts I almost didn't hear mom carry on.

"One more week to go," she said. "You still happy to help me out?"

I nodded enthusiastically, eliciting a smile from mom. "Of course, mom! I love you, you know I'd do anything to help you." That made mom smile even more and look down shyly. On more than one occasion mom had seemed to get even more pleasure from our sessions than I had. In terms of number of orgasms we'd had I figured we were probably drawn level. And yet seeing her face light up and knowing that I made mom happy felt good in a whole different way to all those orgasms.

"Well then," she said, looking back at me. "Wanna come to my room and do me a favor?"

The reference wasn't lost on me. Nor was it lost on my cock, which stiffened in my shorts. I drained my orange juice and stood up before holding my hand out for mom. She took it and stood, and together we walked upstairs to mom's room.

Once there mom slowly started pulling down her jeans, revealing the light blue bikini briefs underneath. "The thing is, Steven," she said, "I want a baby. And I want you to help me get pregnant."

I pushed my shorts down my legs, trying to match mom's pace in disrobing despite feeling like tearing off both our clothes there and then. "So," I said, trying to remember my lines, "you want me to have sex with you?"

"Oh god, no, Steven!" she said, even as she pulled her panties down. I couldn't help but notice a dark patch on her underwear where they had been against her pussy. "Nothing like that." I pushed my own boxers off then, my cock being pulled downwards with them until it twanged free and pointed up and outwards. Mom licked her lips then continued. "No, obviously we can't have sex." Mom tore her gaze from my cock in order to open her bedside drawer and grabbed the bottle of lube she kept there. She then sat on the edge of her bed, her glistening pussy level with its edge and her legs spread. I wasted no time in positioning myself between her legs, my cock jumping in time with my pulse as if it was trying to get away from me and go where it really wanted to be. "I figure you could just..." she poured some lube into her hand as she said this then tossed the bottle to one side and grabbed my cock in its place. As soon as she finished talking she began making long strokes up and down my engorged cock, pausing at the top of each stroke to rub her thumb over the tip. I let out a long, shaky breath at this, then remembered I was supposed to say something.

"Masturbate?" I said.

"Right," she said, and stroked a little more vigorously. "Until you're ready to..."

"Cum?" I supplied.

"Mmm," moaned mom, something of a variation from the script as I recalled it. "Then you can just stick it in, fill me up with this big, beautiful cock, give me your cum, make me yours."

"Oh fuck," I whispered. If mom was going to diverge from the previous Saturday's dialogue then so was I. Besides, the feelings of pleasure welling up from my cock were deserving of an oh fuck or two.

Mom brought her other hand up to gently caress my balls. A week's worth of orgasms had done wonders for my stamina, but mom seemed to be on a mission to make me cum. I was starting to think I wouldn't long at all when mom suddenly slowed her strokes down to a crawl.

"It must be hard," she said, rubbing her thumb agonizingly slowly over my cock head on the last word, "getting close enough to cum before sticking it inside me." I nodded. Something was definitely hard all right. Mom hadn't really teased me before this, our sessions had been almost frantic, the point being for me to cum inside mom and our horniness making that happen as quickly as possible. "Maybe if you just rub the tip against me," she said, then let out a low moan as she pulled me closer and rubbed the head of my cock up and down between the folds of her pussy, pressing against her clitoris with the tip as she did so. Every few strokes she would push her hips forward at the right moment to let the head of my cock slide between her folds and into her pussy. It was slow, heavenly torture, and it was working. I felt a glowing tingle deep in my abdomen as a slow burning orgasm started to build. I already knew it was going to feel incredible, but I didn't want to get there alone.

"It's not working, is it?" I said. Mom looked at me, confused. We both knew it was very much working. I pulled my hips back slightly. Mom never let go of my cock but it did slip away from her pussy. She looked down at my cock in surprise, then pouted up at me. I carried on before she got too upset. "I suppose I could touch you if it's not a sexual thing," I said. "What if I put my hand here while I masturbate?" As I said this I moved my hand down to mom's pussy and located her clit with my middle fingertip. Mom let out an appreciative little coo.

"Okay," she managed to say in a breathy voice, then started stroking my cock again, picking up the pace as my own finger started to move back and forth over her clit. Avoiding each other's arms was a little awkward but the pleasure we were both feeling made it hard to worry about such details. Mom tried to keep up her trick of running a thumb over my cock's head periodically, but the distraction of my finger on her clit soon made her forget about that and she stuck to just frantically jerking my cock. She soon closed her eyes and tilted her head back, a grimace of pleasure on her features. I regarded her face and, not for the first time in the past week, I reflected on how, to me, it had transformed without changing. Mom hadn't magically become beautiful, not objectively and not subjectively. But with each of our sessions she had become ever more sexy, and somewhere along the line that had become much more important to me.

"Oh god, mom," I managed to say. "Are you close?"

"Yes, Steven," she groaned, even as I felt the cum rising in me.

"Oh fuck, mom! Put it inside!"

In the event mom merely released my cock and I was the one who moved my hand from her clit in order to grab my cock and guide it into mom's waiting pussy. I slammed my hips forward as soon as my hand was clear, and mom tensed up as my cock filled her, crying out a series of little 'ooh's.

I could have stayed perfectly still and cum just then. Mom hadn't brought me to the edge with her hand, she'd tossed me right over it. But what was the point of having new rules if I wasn't going to test their boundaries?

Even as mom started to experience her orgasm I pulled my cock back and then sank it once more into her. Mom's little 'ooh's became somewhat bigger 'ahh's as I repeated the maneuver a couple more times. That was all I could manage though as at that point my own orgasm hit. I'd heard of toe curling orgasms before - the good kind not the embarrassing kind - and thought it was a quaint figure of speech. Not so any more. My toes curled down into mom's carpet as the rest of my body started to tremble with the pleasure emanating from the base of my cock. Maybe I should have roared or bellowed, but at that precise moment I was silent, the breath catching in my throat and rendering me quieter than I had been since we started. The pleasure built and yet, weirdly, the cum didn't follow. For a second, some part of me wondered what would happen if I orgasmed inside mom without actually cumming. Would we repeat our morning session, affording me three glorious orgasms with mom today?

The question became academic even as these half formed thoughts dashed through my mind. The intense feeling of pleasure in my cock grew until it felt like a physical pressure trying to escape. And then whatever dam had been holding back my cum burst. It felt almost like an explosion in my cock. Without any conscious thought from me my hips jerked so hard that I almost pulled my cock clean out of mom. Luckily I didn't as the next thing I knew, cum was jetting straight out of my cock and into mom. I could feel it rushing down the length of my cock, each burst like a new, smaller orgasm.

Clearly mom wasn't too far gone to be aware of what was going on. She raised her legs as I came, wrapping them around my waist and keeping our bodies locked together, and making encouraging noises.

I don't know how long my orgasm lasted. Probably longer than it felt like at the time, but shorter than it seems in retrospect. All I know is that all too soon the last dribble of cum seeped out of my cock. My legs were shaking and little grey dots floated before my eyes. I didn't trust my limbs to walk me out of there nor my vision to guide the way. So I pulled my cock out of mom, stepped to the side, and crashed down onto the bed beside her. She turned her head to look at me and smiled.

"You did good, hon," she said softly, and stroked my hair. "Why don't you have a nap now. I think you need one."

It was sweet of mom to suggest that, but my whole body was still coming down from that orgasm and I knew sleep wouldn't be possible any time soon.

That turned out not to be entirely accurate. A few seconds later I felt mom's weight shift on the bed and her lips press gently against my cheek. That's the last thing I remember before sleep took me once more.

---

I awoke feeling groggy and thirsty. I was still laid on mom's bed, but I had shifted around a bit. At some point while I'd slept either I'd pulled some of mom's comforter over me or mom had covered me up a bit. Whoever had done it, I felt nice and cozy. I also felt lazy. Mom's digital clock told me it was afternoon already, and my stomach confirmed it was about time for lunch. Tempting though it was to stay there wrapped up in the warm covers, I forced myself to roll out of bed.

I pulled my boxers and shorts back on and headed downstairs. Mom was in the kitchen, fully dressed once again. "Hey there, sleepy head," she said when she saw me walk in. "I'm rustling up some sandwiches for lunch. That okay?"

"Great, mom," I said, shuffling over to the coffee machine and pouring myself a large helping. I sipped at the scalding liquid, risking a burnt tongue in order to get that sweet, sweet caffeine inside my system. It seemed to work at once, and I started feeling like a human being again. When the sandwiches were ready I ate my fill, fully restoring my humanity in the process.

"Mm mm mmm," I said as I swallowed the last of my lunch. "That was delicious. Thanks, mom."

Mom looked down at the last bit of sandwich on her own plate then raised her eyebrow at me, probably wondering if I was being sarcastic. "Erm, thanks?" she said. "They were just sandwiches..."

"More like grandwiches!" I said, too enthusiastically. Mom looked skeptical. "More like sandwowches!" I tried. Mom just gave her head a little shake to warn me off any more attempts. I gave up. "Any plans for today, mom?"