Son Teaches Mom How to Come

Janey sat across from her son at the kitchen table, watching him wolf down his dinner while surfing on his phone. She opened her mouth to speak a couple of times, but returned to a pensive silence after each attempt. She was testing the appropriate phrases in her head.

"You know, Jacob," she finally began, "I never approved of it when you began your relationship with Mel?" Melanie was one of Janey's oldest friends and she had never, in her wildest dreams, thought a woman like herself (in her late forties with a couple of grown kids and settling down to life of sagging, wrinkling, pre-menopausal middle age) would've caught the attention of a teenage boy with runaway raging hormones. "But, I accept that you're old enough to make your own decisions." Jacob grunted and nodded, his eyes not leaving his phone.

"So I also guess you're also old enough to have an adult conversation about... things. For want of a better word." She smiled but her son did not reflect the gesture, just carried on stuffing his face and wiping his thumb across his digital screen.

"So, I was speaking to her earlier, Mel I mean, about your date last night? And she... she told me, well, not to, you know... she told me you gave her five orgasms!" Jason paused surfing and finally looked up, a questioning face stuffed with food. "I mean... five?! Five orgasms? Big ones too."

Jason shrugged, his eyebrows expressing his confusion that his mother would be repeating the word 'orgasms' at him over dinner. His mother's face looked expectant. What on Earth, he was thinking, was she waiting for him to say? So he said, "Yep." and went back to shovelling his food down his throat.

Janey got up and began pottering around the kitchen, clearly agitated but unclear how to proceed. Jason plonked his fork down on his plates and leaned back, full-bellied and oblivious to her growing annoyance.

"Can I just ask?" Janey sat back down, opposite her boy who had resumed swiping through

meaningless crap on his phone, "How? I mean... how? Five? That's, I don't want to say incredible but, it's... it's not usual, you know? Better than average, I should say."

"What exactly are you asking me, Mom?"

"Look, I'll admit it. I'm jealous, okay? It seems like a many a moon since I had a decent one, singular, but ...ah, don't give me that look, if you're old enough to do it then you're old enough to discuss it." Jacob looked into the eyes of his mother, eyes the same colour as his own, and squirmed.

"Surely you've... cum more than once before?"

"Not for some time, honey. Not for... look I love your old man but he's not exactly adventurous when it comes to the art of l'amour."

"T.M.I. Mom!"

"No, quite the reverse. Not enough information. Not nearly enough! Mel wouldn't spill the beans about what you two get up to together; she probably still feels a little guilty about cradle-robbing my eldest child but you... now you can explain how you turned her legs to jelly and her brain to pea-soup five times in a row."

Jacob ginned wide, "Is that what she said?"

"More or less. So. Spill."

"You want the physical, like, anatomical details?"

"Blow by blow account. If you wouldn't mind."

"Well, I do kinda do mind. It's private, you know?"

Janey looked stunned at his refusal. Then hurt at his betrayal. She got up slowly, pouting, and turned her back on him to wash some dishes. She knew exactly what she was doing and his resolve melted after a minute or two.

"Okay, okay, Mom. Whatever you want. Don't be upset, I'll tell you anything you wanna know."

Janey and Jacob sat together and talked for nearly an hour while he gave her all the juicy details of how his sensuous older lover has educated him in the art of cunnilingus. He carefully described how he'd employed various techniques learned from educational websites and even (in this day and age!?) books.

Janey watched silent and spellbound as her son demonstrated with his mouth and his alarmingly dexterous fingers how he had pleasured Melanie's luscious wet slit until he, himself, felt carried away on his mature partner's waves of erotic ecstasy; believing, though it appeared unbelievable as he said the words out loud, that his soul had climaxed in blissful orgasm every single time Melanie has erupted her quivering love-flow into his eager mouth.

He was just re-enacting the coup de grâce of relentlessly tonguing the engorged clitoris when his mother let out an involuntary whimper that made him pause. Jacob looked around the table to gaze in wonder at the sight of his mother's hitched up skirt and her clenched hand rubbing intently on her pantyhose crotch. It was his turn to be spellbound as his wide-eyes took in the stunning vision of her long elegant legs encased in sheer black nylon and the dark spreading patch of moisture around her fist. The shadow of her pubic bush under the dark material. The hint of her arousal scenting the air.

"Mom? Are you-"

"Well I didn't expect it to be so intense, so... graphic. Aw, don't look at me like that, we're all being grown ups here aren't we." Janey coughed, blushed and straightened out her skirt. Her cheeks were flushed. "Well, er, thank you Jake, for, er, being so ... candid and forthcoming."

"Forthcoming??"

"Alright, shut up. You know what I mean." Janey stood up and left the kitchen with as much dignity as she could muster in the face of her shameful embarrassment. Jacob sat rooted in his

chair utterly amazed at what he had seen, what he was still seeing in his mind's eye.

The truth was that Jacob had for many years now been fantasising about his foxy, sexy, leggy Momma. He had only responded to his mother's friend's flirting because Melanie had reminded him so much of his fantasy woman; although her legs were not as fine, her boobs were saggier, her face, and neck, were more wrinkled, she had no butt to speak of and, horror of horrors, she shunned pantyhose like the plague. The smooth, soft, sheer fabric tights were the favourite item of underwear that Jacob liked to steal from his mother's laundry hamper; revelling in the aromas and tastes and feeling them rub on his cockhead as he tugged on his stiff meat.

And it was this exact thought that had nailed him to the kitchen chair, the thought of getting his grubby little mitts on that particular pair of cum-soiled black pantyhose has swelled to fill every whirring cog in his horny teenage brain: She went upstairs. Did she go to change out of her work clothes? Had she taken them off already? Were they sitting there atop her pile of dirty clothes in the corner of his parent's bedroom. Is that the sound of the shower? Yes!

Jacob stole upstairs on his tip-toes, excitement prickling his skin. He listened at the bathroom door to check that his mother's shower was still in full swing. He walked into the dark master-bedroom and immediately crossed to the laundry hamper, breathing hard he lifted up the warm cloth skirt, the white blouse, the white bra (he felt inside the cups and they were still tantalisingly warm) and there lay the crumpled, bunched ball of black nylon heaven.

It was the work of seconds to hide the tights up his tee-shirt, scarper back to his own room, shut the door tight and switch on his radio to drown out the sound of his imminent wanking.

Under the warm jet of the shower, Janey's thoughts were racing. They were racing to incredibly inappropriate places that she didn't want them to go but her filthy, feverish imagination could not shake the recurring images of her son's sensuous mouth pleasuring... licking... tasting.... swallowing....

As she curled two fingers up inside her pussy she had no idea that in just a couple of days she would, herself, be tip-toeing down the hall to knock quietly but insistently on Jacob's bedroom door in the middle of the night.