No Monkey Business: Week 02

As I started to finger mom with more gusto she started to move more against me, bouncing up and down on her toes and gasping, her gasps as arousing to my ears as her bouncing was to my cock still nestled between her cheeks. With my cock directly on mom's ass and one of my hands directly on her pussy, my other hand suddenly felt out of place as it groped mom through two layers of fabric. I figured that I could halve that number without having to try to undo mom's bra through her top with my teeth. And so I released mom's tit for a second and slipped my hand inside her tank top at the waist, sliding my palm up over her smooth stomach until it returned whence it came, but now with only a bra between it and the prize.

Based on the noises she was making, mom was definitely enjoying the three-pronged assault I was making on her body. But it wasn't one way traffic. The feel of her ass on my cock was of course amazing, yet the feel of her body under my hands was possibly even better and I lamented how long I'd gone without realizing what a divine body I'd been living with, and how soon it would be taken from me. "God, mom," I whispered into her ear between kisses, "you're so fucking... fuckable." It wasn't exactly Shakespeare, I know, but I was at least being true to mine own self. Besides, mom seemed to appreciate the comment.

"Yes," she hissed, shoving her ass hard against my cock and wringing her hands on the jar she was still clutching. "Fuck me then," she whined. Then, just in case I hadn't heard, she moaned "Fuck me, fuck me fuck me," punctuating each clause with a hard thrust against me.

I knew this was lust-fuelled dirty talk. Mom made her feelings on The Rules clear regularly: if I wasn't close we couldn't have sex. And horny though I was I wasn't yet close to cumming. But with mom practically begging for my cock I found the number of fucks I could give about The Rules at an all time low. And so I said fuck it, and decided to do just that.

Before she could retract her demand or sexily moan "Figuratively speaking", I pulled both my hands back from their errands. Mom gasped at the sudden loss of my finger in her pussy but leant forward slightly as I put some pressure on her back. I then shoved her panties down to her ankles, grabbed her hips with one hand and my cock with the other, and guided the head to mom's waiting entrance. And then I pushed.

I'd intended to be inside mom before she could react. As a best case scenario she'd then be too delighted with my cock inside her to check whether I was close. And the worst case scenario was that she'd ask if I was close, I'd admit I wasn't, and I'd have to pull out. But all that would take several long moments, and I'd be fucking mom all that time.

What actually happened was this. The head of my cock slipped between the folds of mom's pussy lips and I pushed forward. If I'd done some trigonometric legwork first I might have realised that with both of us stood against the kitchen worktop, the angle wasn't quite optimal. But it wasn't hopeless either. My cock didn't fly off into the ether but nor did it head up into mom. I pushed harder, eliciting a little squeak from mom. Then, with an entirely inaudible pop, the head of my cock shifted slightly and lurched up into mom's pussy. And that was when all Hell broke loose.

Okay, Hell might be pushing it. To be more accurate, that was when a jar of tomato-y pasta sauce broke loose. In her throes of delight mom had been twisting the jar between her hands, but not tightly enough to actually undo the lid. At least, not at first. As our passions mounted she gripped tighter and tighter. And then she felt my cock finally penetrate her. She jumped in surprise and twisted the jar reflexively. And because even jars of pasta sauce have comic timing, this time the lid did come off.

From my position behind mom I didn't see anything happen. As far as I was concerned, my cock entered mom, she jumped, and then she yelled "Dammit!" I smiled inwardly, proud that my cock could have that effect on mom, but also unsure why she sounded quite so angry. Presumably it was some horny-angry mash up, like when people get so hungry they get angry about it: hangry. Mom was probably just horngry.

My deliberations on horngriness and imminent fucking of mom were both interrupted as she lifted herself up on tip toes to remove my cock and reached behind her to push me back slightly.

My first guilty assumption was that mom knew I wasn't close to my orgasm and was making me prematurely exit because of my premature entry. The second possibility as I saw it was that mom had had her own orgasm already and was too sensitive to continue. This was as unlikely as it was unhumble since mom was profoundly unlikely to have had a powerful enough orgasm to stop after experiencing the full force of about an inch of dick. More possibilities would have come to me with time, but before that time came mom turned around.

Any brief hopes that she was turning just so that we could go at it face-to-face were dashed as soon as I looked down at what had been her pristine white top. Now it was none of those things, except a top. About half of the jar of sauce had clearly decided that since it was destined for mom's stomach later in the evening it could take a shortcut. The shortcut had failed, as shortcuts are wont to do, and instead mom was now wearing that sauce. A few globs had splattered onto her forearms and one small drop had even made the connoisseur's choice and had made it to her cleavage. But her new top had taken one for the team and intercepted most of the thick red sauce.

I did a heroic job of keeping a straight face as I opened my mouth, hesitating for a moment as I tried to decide between "This wasn't what I had in mind when I thought we'd get saucy in the kitchen!" and some not yet fully developed joke about it being my job to splatter mom with gooey liquids.

My hesitation probably saved my life as mom held up a finger before I could speak, looking mightily pissed. "If you want to keep your tongue, then keep it still," she told me, before kicking off her panties and pushing past me to get a cloth from beneath the sink. "Dammit," she muttered as she started wiping the excess tomato goo off her top. "This'll have to go straight into the wash," she added, before grabbing the bottom of the tank top and heaving it up and off. "Could you turn off the hob, then run upstairs and grab anything white from the laundry basket?" After a moment's pause she added, "Steven?" This last bit was said not unkindly, as mom broke through my reverie over her suddenly exposed figure. She really did look devastatingly good in that bra and skirt combo.

"Right, yes, totally," I managed to say, despite feeling like my tongue was going to loll out like a cartoon dog's seeing a bone. With a burst of willpower I tore my eyes away from mom long enough to turn off the hob and then headed towards the staircase as mom began running cold water through the stains on her top and squirting dish soap on it.

I bounded back down the stairs and into the kitchen a few minutes later with an armful of assorted whites that I'd hunter-gathered from the laundry basket in the bathroom. It was mostly mom's stuff as my white clothing didn't extend far beyond a couple of white t-shirts, and they were already packed ready for college.

Mom wasn't in the kitchen any more, so I passed straight through into the small laundry room on the opposite side that connected the kitchen to the back door.

"I got the- the sturm" I said as I rounded the corner into the room. This was of course a total lie as I actually had the stuff, and not the sturm, which is (checks notes) an eighteenth century German literary movement full of rousing action. It's possible that I tripped over my tongue because of the sight awaiting me as I entered the laundry room: mom sat with one leg over the other atop the washing machine, slowly swinging her leg as she waited for me. She was still in just the bra and skirt, with the skirt coming obscenely high in her sitting position. I approved. It's also possible that I was making an intellectual comment on the fact that the sight of mom was certainly having a rousing action. My erection, which had gone from full hardon to semi-on as I'd dashed upstairs, had faded to more of a demisemi-on as I rummaged through mom's dirty socks looking for the white ones. But now it was back to nearly full arousal. Totally sturm.

Mom looked pleased with herself at the effect she had on me and then patted the front of the washing machine where the door hung half open. As I approached it she leant forward slowly, struggling to contain a smile as her bra-encased breasts had a predictable effect on me and removed any last doubts about my erection.

She wasn't just leaning down to show off her tits though. Once she was low enough she grabbed the washing machine door. "Fill me with your big load, Steven," she said in a gruff voice, moving the door in time to give the impression that the machine itself was talking. I wasn't fooled though as I could see her lips moving. I rolled my eyes, hoping that I didn't survive the therapy-inducing act of sleeping with my mom unscathed only to develop a fetish for washing machines. (Spoiler alert: I did not develop a fetish for washing machines.)

Once I'd crouched down and dumped that big white load in the washing machine, mom pushed the door shut with a click. "Could you start it on a white warm wash?" she asked, tilting her head as she added "I can't see the buttons from this angle."

I nodded and made to carry out mom's instructions, only to face an immediate obstacle. "Uh, mom."

"Yes, dear?"

"I can't get to the knob because of your legs."

"I thought that was my line."

I looked up from where I was crouched to see mom simultaneously trying to cover up a smirk at her own joke with an innocent look, as well as blushing slightly. Before I could come up with a witty retort mom leant back slightly and uncrossed her legs. I assumed she'd scoot to one side and hop off the washing machine. Instead, with a shy glance at me, she slowly spread her legs until they hung down on either side of me. Her skirt, despite its mini-ness, did a noble job throughout her motions of protecting her modesty.

"Thanks," I said, a hint of a tremor in my voice. With the obstacle gone I quickly turned the machine to the appropriate settings and hit the on button. After a few seconds the door lock noisily engaged and water could be heard doing whatever it is that water does in washing machines when they start up.

That taken care of I stood up, ending up between mom's spread legs. I drank in the sight of her body before me, my arousal only growing at her proximity to me. For her part mom was staring down at my cock, her lips parted slightly and her breath heavier than sitting down would really warrant.

"So," she said softly after about half a minute of this.

"So," I echoed.

"We should, really. Should go do dinner."

I didn't respond, not trusting my voice to say anything suitably withering about that absurd suggestion. Instead I kept gazing down, devouring the sight of mom's legs vanishing impossibly high into her skirt, of her hips emerging from the other side and narrowing to her delicious waist and then of course onto her mouth watering tits. I even gazed at her face, which may not have magically become objectively beautiful, but the pink blush growing in her cheeks and the little bite she occasionally gave to her lower lip were turning me on more, not less.

My whole body was on edge, and from the slight tremble I could see from mom I think hers was too. "Steven," she said almost desperately, and that was it.

It was as if I was a runner waiting at the starting line, and mom had said "Bang." I was off.

I dropped to my knees so quickly that I'm surprised they weren't bruised. With one hand I grabbed the front of mom's skirt and lifted it up, exposing her very ready looking pussy perched on the edge of the machine. With my other hand I held onto mom's thigh. But my mouth was where the action was. As soon as mom's skirt was out of the way I darted my head forward between her legs and gave a single firm lap of my tongue over her pussy. She squealed my name and grabbed my hand on her thigh. As she did I clamped my mouth over her clit and started going to town on it with my tongue, using the tip, the sides, and long strokes with the flat of it to stimulate mom. And stimulated she was as she let out a string of nonsensical noises and grabbed the back of my head, pulling me even tighter against her. I somehow found a higher gear with my tongue and started lapping furiously at mom's clit, not sure how long I could keep it up. As it turned out I didn't need to keep it up for long at all.

Mom made a noise somewhere between a sob and a "Fuck!" (a sock?) and then the pressure of her hand on my head changed direction. Instead of pushing me quite uncomfortably hard towards her she pulled me very uncomfortably hard upwards by the hair. Enjoyable though eating out mom was I was not going to risk having my hair pulled out to finish down there, and so used mom as leverage to get back into a standing position.

"Inside me!" she growled at me and I took the cue. I took my hand from her thigh and slid a finger inside the pussy I'd just been pulled from. Mom was so wet already that almost my whole finger entered her before facing much resistance, and once I started fucking her for all my finger was worth that resistance melted away. Mom tilted her head back with a groan then gasped "More!"

I added a second finger which again took but a few strokes to start banging mom with abandon. This earned another desperate sounding swear word from mom, yet it still wasn't enough. Leaning forward again she grabbed my arm and pushed it away, grunting as my fingers fell from her pussy. She then let go of my arm and immediately grabbed my cock. "Inside," she gasped, tugging my cock towards her waiting entrance and squirming on the washing machine as if she could get my cock in her without me moving.

"I- I'm not close," I said with almost horror movie levels of stupidity.

Mom glared at me as if she couldn't believe she'd wasted eighteen years raising a son who had the impertinence to not be close to cumming at this exact moment of this exact Monday evening.

"Then put the fucking tip in," she said with the kind of icy calm that immediately precedes someone being attacked by a homicidal snowman.

"Right," I said and pushed my hips forward, letting mom guide me in. In my eagerness to satisfy mom I overcompensated and stuck half my cock in her before coming to a halt. I gasped at the sensations, and risked leaving my cock there for a moment before I started to pull out, aiming for a more realistic interpretation of 'the tip'.

I'd scarcely started moving my hips back before mom started wiggling around in front of me, and before I knew what was happening she had her arms and legs wrapped around me, and pulled me forcibly against her until my whole cock was balls deep inside her. My gasp this time was even louder, and mom let out a long moan.

"Mmm," she cooed. "Such a big tip." She finally sounded happy again. I nodded, and grunted something approximating a "Yup." We stayed like that for what must have been a full minute before mom relaxed her death grip on me. Now that she'd had whatever itch had needed scratching deep inside her dealt with, she seemed calmer again. She pulled back slightly to look me in the face.

"Okay," she said quietly, even looking a bit embarrassed. "That might be a bit more than the tip. Why don't you go back a bit and I'll help you finish?"

I assumed she meant she'd jack me off while I held the end of my cock inside her, which was fine by me. I nodded in agreement and gave her a little kiss on the nose. Her smile widened at that and she wrapped her arms around me again, postponing my withdrawal for a few more seconds. Finally she relaxed her grip again. "Okay, mister. Back you go-oh. Oh. Ohh!"

Now, mom was not bursting into spontaneous song from an excess of joie de vivre. She was not filled with the joys of Spring (it was Fall). No, instead a third character had entered the fray.

To be fair this character had been quite vocal already during our sexual encounter in the laundry room. I didn't mention them above because I felt like it spoiled the mood. As someone who was there at the time I can tell you that licking, fingering, and sticking my dick in my mom on top of the washing machine was honestly very erotic. And as someone who was there at the time I was distracted enough by my horniness that I could happily ignore the occasional whooshes, clunks, and squirty noises that the washing machine made below us. I didn't mention them above because, well, go back about a dozen paragraphs, then compare and contrast: Mom was so wet already - much like the innards of the washing machine which she sat on that noisily flushed yet more water through its pipes - that almost my whole finger entered her before facing much resistance and once I started fucking her for all my finger was worth that resistance melted away and the washing machine made a loud thunking noise which I think it was meant to do, or at least it's always done that and we've had it for, like, ten years now. Mom tilted her head back with a groan then, as a series of clicking noises emerged from the depths of the washing machine, gasped "More!"

See? Better without that, right?

Anyway. At this point the washing machine became impossible to ignore. Whatever setting I'd put the machine on apparently had about fifteen minutes of wet preamble before getting down to serious business. Mom and I had been getting up to our own wet preamble for about fifteen minutes. You can see where this is going.

Just as I was about to pull most of my dick out of mom the loudest click yet came from the washing machine, and then the spin cycle started. Mom, who was pressed down onto the machine with my dick deep inside her, felt it first, hence the "Oh. Oh. Ohh!" As the machine started to spin a low rumble thrummed through both our bodies, growing in intensity as the torque did. It would probably have been quite a nice feeling under more innocent circumstances. With our bodies intimately locked together as they were it went far, far beyond nice.

"Steven?" said mom sounding a little scared and a lot turned on as the vibrations built and my cock turned into the world's most lifelike sex toy. Any thoughts of getting my cock out of her were forgotten as she titled her head back with a moan and wrapped her limbs around me yet again. Meanwhile, I leant forward to try and keep my balance and grasped the edges of the machine on either side of mom. As I leant towards her, mom leaned back, pulling me down lower. "So good," she moaned quietly and adjusted her hands so she could pull my face to hers. We kissed, but almost chastely in the circumstances, the vibrations from the machine making it more awkward than arousing. Giving up on that I rested my head next to mom's, our cheeks brushing against each other.

Beneath me, mom rolled her hips a couple of times then gasped against my ear. "Feels so good," she murmured, then, a moment later, "I think I'm going to- ." She gasped and tightened her grip on me before letting out a high groan as she came.

My own orgasm wasn't there yet but it did feel absolutely inevitable. The vibrations from the machine were relentless, only growing stronger if anything. The constant sensations being transmitted to my cock through mom's pussy were like a thousand tiny blowjobs all at once. It was only a matter of time before they took me over the edge.

Mom had barely finished going over her first edge when she started running her hands up and down my back. "Shit, Steven," she said, a definite tremor in her voice. "Can't believe I'm already- I'm gonna- Again- ." Whatever broken sentence she tried to utter next was lost as she shuddered against me, grunting into my shoulder. The sexy little noises as she came for the second time egged on my own arousal and I pressed my hips harder against her, managing to urge my dick a little deeper into mom in the process. She yelped in surprise and started shaking under me.