September Lust

September Lust

Chapter 1

Betty McCall's blue eyes glowered darkly over the rim of her martini as she watched her nineteen year-old son Eric enter the bathroom down the hall. Normally she loved her only son almost to distraction, but on that warm September afternoon she felt like slapping his ass real hard.

Not that he'd done anything wrong. Far from it, he'd gone out of his way to please her during the past two worrisome days. Ever since Betty's husband Paul had gone on a two week business trip to Japan, Eric had been a perfect angel around the house.

Betty was a highly sexed, fertile woman, but she had married for money and got stuck having a love affair with her fingers. Anyhow, she did have a son but the outlook for Eric was dim. Eric was nineteen and other than normal masturbation, he didn't seem to take much interest in girls. He played tennis at college, usually with men, and when he was home, he would usually read, or study his Bible. He did not get himself tattooed, or shave his head, or put a ring through his ear. You could say he was a Jack Armstrong, all-American boy.

The day was hot. Eric was cooling off in the shower. There was only one full bathroom in the single level ranch house, and she'd have time to slip in there and sit down on the toilet before he came out of the shower. She didn't have much on. Betty was wearing was a short cotton wrapper that was loosely tied in the front. Her very large breasts held the top of it open almost to her nipples and her thighs pushed back its hem to expose her pussy as she walked, but it wasn't a big deal, no one could see her, except her son. Like a lot of teenagers, he took long showers and it was obvious to Betty he was in there choking the chicken.

Betty could see his nude figure hazily through the frosted glass of the shower door. He looked even more like his father then, and she was hard pressed to keep the irritation out of her voice as she announced, "It's only me. I'll just be a minute."

Betty untied her wrapper and squatted on the toilet seat. The rush of her pee felt refreshing. Eric could probably hear its hissing sound in the bowl over the sounds of the shower.

Her mammaries alone were enough to make a man leave his wife. She had a pair of 38 DD's and while they were considerably bigger than they'd been when she was nineteen, they were every bit as firm because of exerciser she bought to firm up her boobs.

Betty's waist had thickened a bit during her last few years, but it still measured twenty-six inches with no stretch marks or flab. Her hips were a bit wider because her ass was out of proportion to the rest of her.

She knew men liked her ass and when she went out, she wore Yoga pants. No panties, just the pants. Betty had teased her husband in the past, doing the shimmy as she fixed his drink after work. After a couple of drinks and a big bottom in your face, it doesn't take much to get it up. Paul loved her ass.

At five feet five and a hundred and thirty pounds, she was a lot of woman, and she giggled wondered how much weight she had in her hips. But fuck, Paul loved it. He loved to do it to her, up the ass. At first she was a bit timid, but using some pomade and working her anus, she learned to relax and enjoy the ride.

Right in the middle of her anal reverie, Betty became aware that the shower had stopped. She looked over her shoulder in the mirror and saw her son staring at her through the narrow opening of the shower door. Pervert, she wanted to say, you're as bad as your father. But she caught herself, recalling that it was she who'd intruded on his privacy.

His wet arm snaked out, fumbled around, and grabbed a towel. Betty inwardly smiled and felt a tug at her heartstrings, for only then did she realize that her son was now a man, and wasn't a Boy Scout anymore.

* * *

"I'm going out for a while," she said and turned to face the mirror. "Stay and hook up my bra for me."

"Sure, Mom. Where're you going?" He was trying to avoid being obvious, staring at her chest while she applied lipstick.

"You know, now that you're nineteen I shouldn't have to be going out for some male company. I hate drinking alone. I might go over to Gloria's and we might check out the sales at Bloomingdale's. Just because your father goes on a business trip, I'm not going to deprive myself..." and she stopped because Eric look confused.

"I wish he'd get a job that keeps him home. Like that marketing position at Apple."

"He always brings his secretary with him..."

"Yeah, the sonofabitch brings Terri with him. I don't know why. She doesn't speak Japanese and doesn't take shorthand. If she wasn't so cute, I wouldn't mind so much."

"Then why --"

"She's an easy lay. That's why. Your father talks in his sleep when he's had too much to drink..."

"She's kinda flirty," he said.

"Did you sleep with that bitch? Did you?!? Did you?!?"

His eyes grew furtive in an instant. She wasn't being fair to him at all. Of course he'd thought about it, but thoughts are not deeds. After all, she'd thought that very day about having sex with her son. She had asked him a very unfair question, and before he could lie to her in response, she quickly said, "It's all right to think about things like that. We all do. But pick a better girl than your father's secretary for sex. What could she teach you?"

Eric was searching his mind for an answer.

"You're a virgin, aren't you? Eric, don't look so shocked. You and I can talk about such things. Have you ever... done it with a girl?"

He blushed scarlet, and he shook his head, no.

As embarrassed as he was, the situation was far too pregnant for Betty to leave it. She was in the mood. "Ever played with a girl's titties?"

"No!" he said, and tried to draw away.

"You stay right here, buster," she said, tightening her soft grip about his neck. "It's time we had a talk about sex. It's almost time you started doing something about sex and we'd better talk about it first. Lord knows, your father won't give you any advice, if he ever comes home again. Right now, I don't care if he does or not. I'd be happy enough just being with you," she said, hugging him softly and affectionately, feeling some of the tension go out of his body.

"Ever fingered a girl's pussy, Eric?"

He tensed, relaxed again, and shook his head miserably. "Mom, I don't want to talk about it now."

"No time like the present." She placed her son's arms about her waist again, and she put her arms about his neck. He was still blushing, shy, embarrassed, and the hard bulge of his prick still pressed hotly against Betty's hip. "Have you ever even necked with a girl, honey?"

"I kissed a couple. At parties. Never really necked."

"Well, I'm surprised. A handsome guy like you. Have you ever seen a naked woman?"

"Pictures of 'em. Playboy and some magazines like that. And -- "

"And?"

"And my friend Allen has some. Women in... underwear and things. Stuff like that..."

She nodded. "Are these fashion magazines or photos of women with dildoes shoved up their asses? I know about those kind of pictures. I've seen them myself. They excite men. They get all hot and bothered when they look at pictures like that. It makes them play with themselves, and that's not good. Do you play with yourself, Eric?" she asked, and pressed her tummy more warmly against his hard prick, just to be sure he knew what she was talking about.

He swallowed hard and lowered his head, and by not answering, he didn't lie to her.

She kissed his cheek, and she patted his arm fondly as she slid her hand up and down it. She was determined to persist now, for the odd sort of pleasure she was deriving from this intimate conversation far outweighed any discomfort her son was feeling from his embarrassment. She gave him a fond little slap on his towel-covered bottom and she moved aside just enough to place her hand directly on the hot, hard length of his penis. He gasped when her fingers toyed with his erection and she ignored that and said, "Eric, do you ever get so worked up you play with your penis? Do you take it in your fist and... maybe both fists? It's certainly more than a handful. Do you ever take your prick in your hand and play with it and stroke it and milk it till it feels so good you just can't stand it, and then let all that good rich cream squirt out all over the place? Do you, Eric? Do you ever do that after you've looked at those sexy pictures your friend Allen has? Do you?"

"Yes, damn it!" he said, close to tears again, but now they were tears of outraged embarrassment.

"And do you two ever play with each other's cocks? Do it together?"

"Heck, no! Well... we did it once together, but I didn't like it."

"Eric?"

"Yes?"

She went right on smiling her lovely red smile and she said, "Would you like your mother to teach you how to kiss? I mean, really kiss a woman the way she wants to be kissed. Like how to use your tongue to pleasure a woman? Like even lick her between the legs?"

She gave him a butterfly-light kiss on the lips, backed off and said, "Think it over, honey. I'd be glad to do it for you. It's not common knowledge, but a lot of mothers teach their sons about sex, and I don't mean just by talking about it. They let their sons look and they let them feel," she said, and took two steps away from him, drew aside the thin halves of her wrapper and artfully posed with her hands on her widely sweeping hips, one knee bent before the other and those gorgeous big breasts of hers stuck out at him.

"Lots of mothers like me teach their sons just about all there is to know about sex, honey. Would you like Mother to teach you about necking and other things?

Chapter 2

Eric walked to the kitchen in a daze. He had to take a break. He wasn't even sure of where he was until the cold air billowing out of the refrigerator chilled his legs. The cold air didn't affect his stiffy at all.

His mind was filled with what his mother might do. He'd never seen her so intimate, like she was hungry for someone to hold her, and the way her hands were restless, moving over her body, he was confused.

She was sitting on the couch with one arm lazily outstretched on the back of it.

She was smiling in warm, open invitation to him. Her flimsy housecoat was still open and he could see most of her tits, and those tits had to be the biggest, most beautiful in the whole world because they were far better and bigger than any of the ones he'd seen in the girlie magazines.

She had her legs curled up under her. Her thighs were just a bit thick, but they had a shape that was absolutely terrific, and they looked just as smooth and polished, and her hand was idly caressing herself, all around over her thigh and her calf as she sat there smiling at him, waiting for him.

She had turned on the fan and faced it to blow against the sofa, and its breeze caused her golden hair to softly stir about her face. Eric tried to keep the shyness out of his grin as he padded forward on his bare feet and eased himself onto the couch beside his mother, just under the soft white curve of her inviting arm.

"And here's your first lesson in sex," she said, and that arm on the back of the couch slipped down to his shoulders and pulled him gently closer. Her other hand went to his cheek and turned his head to face her. Her beautiful red lips loomed ever larger and then touched his, softly at first and then with growing ardor and warmth. He felt his whole body go rigid, but he couldn't help it. She pulled him closer, kissed him just a little harder so that her open mouth completely covered his. He felt her tongue flick out over his trembling lips and for a moment he felt he was going to shoot right then and there. but then the delicious taste of that tongue sliding into his mouth made him softly moan through the kiss and lean in her direction.

She laughed, sensing his uneasiness. "The tongue," she told him. "That's about the most important sex organ of all. First it lets you talk to each other, communicate, tell each other what you like to do and have done to you. Second, it feels good and when you use it to arouse your partner, you can feel it between your legs. There's some chemistry from your mind that tickles your balls." She giggled.

"Kiss me," she said. Eric liked the feel of her soft lips. He even liked the smell of her woman flesh, all mixed up with the scent of her lipstick, and subtly spiced with a musky scent that he couldn't quite identify but that he liked a lot. He sucked on her tongue and caressed her face and hair and neck. He mimicked her in every way he could except one, and he hoped he was pleasing her one tenth as much as she was pleasing him.

"You learn fast and you kiss nice," she told him, cupping his chin in her hand, placing a series of warm little kisses all around his open mouth, smiling her encouragement through her eyes. "You're a little too eager and a little too rough at times, but that's very understandable. Practice, that's what it takes. Practice kissing me, gently now..."

He let his mouth hang a little open just as hers was, and he was able to refrain from plunging his tongue between her lovely lips when her tongue came out to tickle around his mouth. They both had their tongues out then and hers was lazily twisting about his while he sat there, rigid once again, trying not to be eager and rough with this very special woman.

"French kissing," she murmured. "You like?"

Before he could answer, she was sucking on the very tip of his tongue, very gently, but making him feel it right on down to his balls. He nodded his head in complete agreement with her, and her lips curled into the sweetest sort of smile around his tongue-tip.

"See what I mean about tongues?" she murmured, and now she buried her lovely face in his throat and tongued him there.

"Oh, Jeezus," he muttered, and clutched her soft shoulder hard for a moment, fearful again that he was going to cum and thus end this total ecstasy. His blood was racing. Her softly sucking mouth, her constantly active tongue had his heart thumping loudly. He didn't know if he was going to shoot or faint first, but then at the last moment she gave him respite by backing off with that deeply penetrating kiss and smiling into his eyes.

"So now you know a little about using tongues for kissing and tasting and making each other feel good. Now let's use the tongue for talking, for communicating. Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Beautiful! You're beautiful, Mom!" he blurted.

She laughed softly and kissed him. "You're off to a good start. Women always like to hear that. But you've got to be more specific. Where am I beautiful, Eric? How?"

"Your face! Your hair! Your eyes and lips and throat and... and tongue and every thing about you is just beautiful!"

"You're sweet," she said, and rewarded her pupil with another soft kiss. "But is that all there is about me, honey?"

Her fingers were gently plucking at his hard little nipple, making him feel very funny down there. He was all confused and didn't know what to say, where to begin. Breathing very deeply, feeling very drunk, he looked from the pale tapered fingers toying with his dark rigid nipple to that billowing loveliness exposed by his mother's open housecoat and said, "You've got the most beautiful boobs in the whole world, Mom."

She looked down at herself and smiled. She drew her housecoat wide open and she put her lovely hands under her even lovelier breasts and lifted them, as if presenting them to him. He gazed on, glassy-eyed, as she fondled them freely and said, "Is that what you call them? Boobs?"

"Breasts," he murmured. "You got beautiful breasts."

"Call them anything you like, darling, as long as you don't call them fat. They're not too big for you?"

"No. Oh, no."

"I used to call them my boobies," she said, still toying with the nipples, still feeling that creamy fullness, the utterly fascinating big, big ends of them. "But you can call them anything you like, honey. Boobies, breasts, jugs, tits, anything at all that pleases you, darling. Would you like to play with Mother's tits, Eric? From the way you're looking at them, I'd say you would. Ask me nice, and I'll let you feel me up."

"Can I... play with your tits, Mom?"

"Of course, darling," she said, and she took his two quaking hands and placed them firmly against her marvelous warm flesh.

"Oh, Jeezus," he muttered, for his mother's tits were even firmer and warmer than he'd imagined they'd be when he thought about them and jacked himself off. There was a softness about them that made them so very full and yet so upright in their beauty, but he could feel nothing firm under the velvety flesh that his hot hands were roving over.

"Feel nice?" she asked, smoothing her hand over his leg.

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, as with ever new amazement he felt the stiffness of her very hard nipples.

Suddenly he pinched it, quite hard. He didn't know what came over him, he just had to do it. He closed his fingers on it sharply and his mother gasped and said, "Oh!"

And suddenly her arms were tight about him and she was breathing hotly in his ear and pushing her big tits into his groping hands and almost moaning as she spoke. "Pinch 'em again, both of them. You didn't hurt me. Oh, God! Darling, darling, hug me and kiss me and play with my tits. I love you so. Baby, baby, it's all right. Nothing to be afraid of. We're not doing anything wrong. Kiss me hard and play with my tits and make me feel so good I can't stand it!"

She was trembling all over now and her body was jerking and thrusting itself at him. He was shocked and frightened, but he sucked on her mouth as voraciously as she was sucking on his and he pinched and played with her hard nipples as she mashed herself against him and moaned in a sort of delirium and all but crawled into his lap. Her arms were breaking his neck, and somehow he just loved it. He sucked her tongue and pinched her nipples even harder, and it somehow thrilled him to the core when his beautiful mother whimpered through the deep soul kiss and convulsive little spasms began to ripple through her body.

She whipped her mouth away from his just long enough to pant, "Arms around me and hug me as hard as you can. Hard as you can, lover!"

He hugged her till his bones were cracking. She hugged him back just as hard. Amazingly, his hands didn't miss her tits on leaving them for now the hot ripples going through her body made the flesh of her back every bit as exciting as that of her tits.

She fell back on the couch, arms locked tightly about him, mouth mashing and tonguing against his all the way. Then he was lying right on top of her, hugging her body and kissing her mouth, grinding his chest against her tits as she thrust them up against him. His hips were between her legs, and her groin were rubbing up against his hard cock, all sweaty and wet and nearly bursting with good feelings. He was going to come at any minute. There was no way he could help it. He couldn't warn her, couldn't get out of this marvelous embrace, couldn't begin to keep his hot body under any sort of control in miraculous circumstances like this. But of course, his mother knew what to do.

"The towel," she panted, pushing him away and pulling him to her at the same time. "Get that damned towel out of the way and stick your prick in me now, now! Fuck me, Eric. Oh, God, do it!"

The damp rumpled towel was whipped out from between their thrusting loins and now he could feel her bare flesh, all furry and hot, with his prick. He was gasping and panting and coming already, or at least it felt like it.

"Put it in, dammit! Quick!" she cried, and with amazing strength she pushed him away, and with equally amazing dexterity, she took his bursting cock in her hand and jammed its spewing end in the hottest, slickest, most wonderful place he'd ever dreamed of in his life.