Winter Mix Ch. 07: Breakfast

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old

Saturday, December 22, 1962

Eighteen-year-old Barney Barnes slipped his six-foot-two, hundred-and-ninety pound, athletic frame through the back door into the kitchen in his house in Westport, Connecticut. Even on the very short walk from his hot thirty-seven-year-old neighbor's home, the cold night air chilled his fingers and he had fumbled the lock. As he eased the door shut behind him, its hinges squeaked. Fearful that his late return would wake his mother, he exclaimed silently, "Darn, Darn, Darn it!"

The house seemed to pick up and amplify every little sound. He heard his heart beating as loud as the school marching band's big bass drum. The ceramic owl wall clock, with its big gold-and-black plastic eyes that shifted left, right, left, right, with every ticking second, clicked implacably. Mrs. Maxon's words, hours ago, following her phone call to his mom, echoed, like a referee's whistle in an ice arena:

"Your mother says to tell you to be sure not to make a lot of noise when you come home, because she's going to bed."

Then Barney's stomach gurgled worse than if he had started up the Westinghouse roll-about dishwasher. Looking up to the ceiling, he held his breath as he listened for tell-tale footfalls immediately above him in his mother's bedroom. As he worried that she might demand an explanation, he thought wildly, "I can't just say 'Sure, Mom. I fixed Mrs. M.'s damper, then we danced a little, then she sucked my dick, then we fucked, then we fucked again, and then we had a nap and so, now I'm home at 12:15 in the morning. What's wrong?' "

When he heard nothing to indicate Judith Barnes had wakened, Barney exhaled a long quiet sigh. Suddenly, the house was still; even Owl's tick-tock seemed muted. He mused to himself, "Don't be stupid. Everything's okay. It's all normal noise that wouldn't wake a cat." No longer tired or tipsy from his Cuba Libre fuck party with Roberta Maxon, he pulled off his rubber boots and heavy parka, then put them away in the hall closet.

Upstairs in his own room, at the far end of the hallway from the master bedroom, Barney stripped down. Heaping his jeans, flannel shirt, underwear and socks haphazardly onto the carpeted floor while he walked around, he mulled the amazing life-changing event he had just experienced with Mrs. Maxon. His sweat, her Chanel No. 5 perfume, his cum-smell and her sex-scent clung to his sticky body. He wondered whether he should risk a shower, then decided to set his alarm and get up earlier than usual to wash away the evidence.

Turning down his bed, Barney retrieved his Boston Bruins flannel pajamas from under his pillow. As he pulled on the bottoms, he thought how his favorite team had just skated to a big victory over the Red Wings, but it was only their fourth win against eighteen losses and eight ties. Buttoning up his top, he sighed regretfully. They were having a lousy season, but he loved them.

In bed, Barney dismissed the Bruins and returned to the MILF-next-door. She had invited him for cocoa. His hockey practice, if it wasn't cancelled due to the weather, was not until ten. Maybe he could see Mrs. M. later, after all. The thought made his cock wiggle and begin to thicken.

Barney tried to ignore his stiffening prick, but his balls added their complaint and made it impossible. Still, he was concerned that his squeaky bed in the early morning quiet would carry its noise to his mom, wake her up, and maybe get him caught in an embarrassing predicament. Climbing out of bed, he padded barefoot down the hall toward her room to check on her. If she seemed very asleep, maybe he could risk jacking off standing up in the bathroom.

Startled to find her door wide open, Barney crept cautiously to his mom's Colonial-style maple four-poster double bed, where he got another surprise. Judith was certainly asleep, however she had, during the night, thrown off her blankets so that only her feet and ankles remained covered. Semi-curled on her right side, with that arm bent beneath her pillow, her left arm lay extended atop and along her ribs, with her relaxed fingers' first knuckles tucked under her nightgown's hem. Like the bedding, this was skewed, leaving her higher leg bared to her hip, while with her lower leg indecorously flashed flesh well up its inner thigh.

Over the years, Barney had frequently seen his mom wearing this long white flannel nightdress, so prettily patterned with little green-stemmed violet and purple flowers. Never, though, had he seen her under these conditions and circumstances. Not only did the nightie diagonally slant precariously up across her pelvis, all four of its shirt-front buttons were undone and the plackets were spread immodestly. Her right breast, squashed by her weight into the bottom sheet on the mattress, was exposed to its partially buried areola, while her left tit, still technically hidden, bulged threateningly downward.

As he looked on his mother with a completely new perspective, Barney forgot his dream image of Roberta Maxon, naked on her knees in her pink negligee and red bedroom slippers. Adjusting his viewpoint, he cocked his head sideways and peeked to see what he could see up under her nightgown. Her closed legs formed a triangular darkness and revealed nothing, so he moved closer to the wall, then craned his neck to peer upside down into the open valley between her hills. Though they swelled and settled provocatively with her regular breathing, he was again prevented from seeing more than he had already.

What was seen and what was guessed, however, was sufficient for Barney's thick cock to fully harden in his pajamas. Licking his lips unconsciously, he boldly pushed the Bruins below his butt and stroked his stick with his left hand while he cradled his recharged walnuts in his right. He wanted to reach down and lift Judith's nightdress the rest of the way up to her stomach, or pull its opened bodice fully away to free her left boob to fall where it may. More than that, though, he did not want to disturb her repose or let go of himself; not even for a second.

Pulling and squeezing. Pushing and pinching. Barney worked his hands faster in opposition and in concert. Groaning low in his throat, he recognized the welcome building tension rising from his gonads to his gut and then from there onward to his chest.

Almost at the same time that Barney tipped his head back with his eyes shut tight to better concentrate on his pending ejaculation, Judith opened her eyes and turned her head left on her pillow. The room lighting was mixed shadows from the mercury vapor street lamp outside, off-center from her dormer windows, and silver splinters from the sheers, sent through scudding clouds by the waning crescent moon. She blinked several times while she stared at what appeared to be her son standing by her bed. Her mind reeled as she asked herself, "What is he doing? Is he masturbating?"

Rolling her whole body to the bed's center, Judith lifted her torso from the mattress, propped herself on her elbows and asked, with as even and non-judgmental a tone as she could muster in her groggy state, "BeeBee? Honey? What are you doing in my bedroom? What time is it? Is something the matter?" She knew immediately the answer to the most critical question and she regretted her unintentional fusillade. She chastised herself silently, "Slow down, Judith. Don't interrogate the poor boy."

Barney's libidinal energy promptly dissipated when he heard his mother's sleepy voice. Dropping his dick, he did not know whether to shit or grin as he exclaimed, "Yikes! M-Mom! Gosh, I'm so sorry! I don't know what..." He broke off speaking, opted for 'flight' in reaction to his sudden fear, and turned about-face. Hobbled by his pajama bottoms, he lost valuable seconds and failed to flee the scene before he heard Judith clearly command him, "Wait, BeeBee! Don't go."

Sheepish, but obedient, Barney pivoted on his heels and finished tugging his pajama bottoms up under his untucked square-hemmed top. While he was doing that, but before he finished, Judith swung her legs out over the mattress edge, sat up properly and leaned toward her bedside table to snap on a lamp. During their pas de deux, mother and son each got brief, yet significant, eyefuls of the other's heretofore private parts. Blushing, he averted his gaze as quick as he could while she matter-of-factly pulled her nightgown hemline below her knees and calmly re-did the lower two buttons on her neckline to re-upholster her thirty-five-inch C-cup pillows.

Judith suddenly remembered reading in a women's magazine, years earlier, an article by Dr. Benjamin Spock about child sexuality and how a parent ought to address masturbation. She did not recall whether it was in 'Redbook', or 'Ladies' Home Journal', but the gist was not to punish, or add guilt. Of course, it said nothing about what to do if the 'child' was practically a grown man, with at least a seven-and-a-half-inch boner, ready to ejaculate on his mother while she slept unaware. She coached herself, silently, "You'll just have to wing it and hope for the best, Judith."

Patting the bed beside her, Judith encouraged, "Sit here, BeeBee." She smiled wistfully as his butt depressed the mattress, causing her left hip to slid and bump against his right. She thought, "How long has it been since...?" Cutting herself off, she said to him, "I haven't been as good a mom as I might have been since your dad left, BeeBee. I'm sorry for that. Becky had her troubles and took a lot of my energy, and I'm glad she's doing well now, but I think I kind of took it for granted that you were okay."

Barney started to deny Judith's self-recriminations, but she stopped him, "No, you're sweet, but I have to say this." She patted his right thigh at the knee and thought, "God! His muscles are so hard!" Quickly clearing the distraction from her mind, she continued, "But, I can be here for you now, if you will let me."

Barney was unclear on where his mother was going with her words, but his dick was happy with where she was going with her hand. Soft, yet firm at the same time, her brief pats sent galvanic thrills up his thigh to his aching unrequited nuts. Rather than shrinking away with proper shame, the recalcitrant pony in his pants reared up proudly. When she saw her son's flannel tent over his rising pole, her heart fluttered, her cunt clutched and her conscience disengaged.

Rotating her position forty-five degrees toward Barney, Judith meshed her knees with his, unabashedly drove her right hand up his quadriceps, and capped his cloaked cock with her palm. Simultaneously, she laid her open left hand light upon his shoulder top, then squeezed her fingers gently into his rock-hard trapezius while she softly declared, "It's obvious that talk is no good when you're in this state." Then, brushing her left hand over his collarbone to his nape, she breezed, "I'll just finish what you started so you can better pay attention to me."

While Judith worked her massaging fingers around the teen's close-cropped blond big head, she pulsed her right hand on his hidden plump little head. Barney groaned and, again, closed his eyes as his gut-warming glow returned. Judith wrapped her fist loosely around his flannelled phallus and slid downward. When her hand's heel banged his balls, his cotton pajamas, stretched tight over his sensitive engorged glans, blotted small exiting pre-cum drops.

Barney gasped short sharp responsive breaths as Judith sanded his throbbing erection with sturdy strokes. She grinned to see the anguished pleasure in his contorted face. Periodically she paused, but only to briefly upset the rhythm and heighten his anxious enjoyment. Meanwhile she cooed throughout, "Yes, BeeBee... good... you're a good boy... Mom loves you... Mom makes you feel... mmmm, good."

Barney's nuts were going nuts. His cock was so hard it hurt. His tight chest made deep breaths impossible while his throat clamped his Adam's apple. Leaning back onto the mattress, still warm where his mother had been sleeping just moments ago, he clawed his fingers into the bedding and yelled, "MAHHHHHMMM!"

Judith lost her grip on Barney's scalp, but did not mind. Removing her left hand to his heaving chest, she skated over his hardpan pectoral muscles while she milked his shooting dick. The front of his ice-white pajama bottoms, polka-dotted with the black-and-gold eight-spoked Boston Bruins wheel insignia, quickly turned dark gray as each powerful cum spurt soaked through the material. While the greasy blotch spread like a Rorschach test, she quietly praised, "Good for you, BeeBee... Let it be... cum for me... cum for your mother... she loves you so much!"

Wasted, his mind blank and spirit soaring, Barney fell flat on his back across the double bed with his knees bent over the mattress edge. His spread legs shook uncontrollably while his raised cramped toes dug his heels deep into the sculpted old-rose Bigelow carpet. Judith stood and then, as she lifted his quaking legs from the floor to the bed, she took away his pajama pants. Staring at his softening log, lolling against his depleted balls, she noted the remnant seed clotting in his sandy pubic hairs and murmured maternally, "Aren't you just a messy boy! But, never mind. Mom'll clean you up."

Not only did Barney not protest, he moaned his gratitude while Judith used his dry pajama legs to absorb the sperm which had not already adhered to their front. She felt her own insides stir as his hard-on surprisingly regenerated under her gently scrubbing hand. She thought about Hank, who, at twenty-one, had delivered her to womanhood when she was eighteen, then immediately recovered and took her again. Not once, but twice more, in rapid succession, he came vigorously inside her.

At age forty-one-and-a-half, Judith could not remember the last time she was with a man. It must have been Ralph, before they divorced in 1956. Her brother may have ruined her for any other lover, but her husband was certainly never the air beneath her wings in the bedroom. Now, even though she knew it was wrong, she needed to find out if her son could bring back her long lost ecstasy.

Climbing onto the bed, Judith raised her nightgown to her hips, straddled Barney's legs with her shins, then lifted her gown the rest of the way over her head. As she tossed it to the floor onto his cast away pajama bottoms, his eyes took in her fully revealed mature 35-28-36 form. He looked from her short permed platinum dyed hairdo to her plucked-and-penciled caramel brown eyebrows to the naturally skimpy butterscotch curls adorning, but not hiding, her slightly flared tan pussy lips and croaked, "M-Mom? What are you doing?"

Judith leaned forward over Barney's chest and began unbuttoning his pajama shirt while she answered, "Don't you remember me asking you almost the same question, BeeBee? And then I said I would finish what you started? Well, that's what I'm doing." She spread open his top and ran her palms over his ribs, from his chest to his hips. Then, extending her thumbs, she slowly pushed her hands, like a road-grader, up to his armpits before continuing to his shoulder tops where she massaged into his clavicles.

Barney groaned and rolled his upper body involuntarily under his mother's sensual strokes. Her pendant tits swayed in small independent circles. Fully erect, his boner bounced against his a taut stomach while pooling saliva forced him to swallow or choke. Suddenly dropping prone, she straightened her legs, flattened against his torso and mashed her midriff to the great throbbing vein on his fat cock's underside.

Kissing him hard, Judith rolled onto her back, pulling Barney with her, then broke their kiss and demanded, "Now, LOVE me!" Underscoring her urgent need, she repeated, "Love your mother, BeeBee, NOW!"

Barney thought he understood. He knew what he wanted to understand, but he could not square his recent tutorial with Roberta Maxon with what was happening right here, right now. Dumbfounded, he stared down at Judith and replied, huskily, "Mom? What? I DO love you, Mom..."

"Oh, son," Judith answered, fighting to keep frustration out of her voice. "No! I mean, do what you wanted to do to me when I was sleeping!"

Barney panicked. He could not possibly explain that he was thinking about Mrs. Maxon when he was caught holding his pecker. Judith did not know why the teen was not getting her message, but she could not wait. Reaching between their bodies, she manually lined up his dick with her vaginal hole and pushed its helmet inside like a suppository.

When Barney felt his mother's os stretch and then snap shut on his steel-hard shaft, there was no more ambiguity. Remembering Mrs. Maxon's crying command, he thought to himself, "Mom wants me to FUCK her. HARD!" He drove deep, then let his instinct and first lessons with Roberta be his guides.

Grunting, Barney pulled back, fighting against Judith's protesting cunt, which wanted to hold him, coax him and never let him loose. Then he plunged in again, all the way, intermeshing his pubic hairs with hers while his nutsack slammed against her taint. Retreating again, he remembered he had done something with Mrs. Maxon that seemed to drive her crazy. He thrust forward, wracking his brain to recall the trick.

Judith moaned and mewled with every stroke while she rejoiced in her head, "Yes! Yes!" As long ignored fires rekindled in her soul, her body clamored and her heart hammered; perspiration beaded at her scalp line. She did not need to pretend, as she used to do with Ralph. She knew who was in her and she was glad for it.

Like a schoolboy who had been stuck on a tough test question and then struck on the right answer, Barney paused at his maximum penetration. Judith rolled her eyes in their sockets and wondered, "Did he come already? Please, God, don't let him come so soon!" She kicked her heels against his hams, hoping to goad him and, if fact, he moved again, but in a surprising fashion.

Raising up on all fours as he pulled on his backstroke, Barney flexed his cock and scraped its top side along Judith's rippling roof. At the same time he pushed his hands under her ass cheeks and dug his fingers into the muscles. Lunging powerfully forward, he ground his pubic bone against hers and yanked her butt up as he tried to get himself all in. She forgot her prayer as his velvet mushroom first caressed her G-spot and then smashed like a bullet onto her cervix.

Clawing at the sheets like a cat on a scratching post, Judith yelped, then screeched as critical mass was reached and then breached. "BeeBee! Son! Oh, God! YESSSS!"

Barney grinned maniacally. Proud of himself, he held his mother tight in his clutches, lifted from the bed, while he withdrew slowly as before and then shoved forcefully forward. Just like at the Maxon house, he felt like he could go forever. He was a machine; or Superman.

Judith screamed again. She twerked and jerked convulsively. Whether it was a second crisis sweeping her to oblivion, or an additional, more powerful, iteration of her first orgasm, she did not know. Nor did she care; she was beyond counting.

Barney cared, however. If he was Superman, then someone, somehow, had put green kryptonite nearby. His legs, back and arm muscles ached, though he continued to pound his jackhammer into Judith's hole, no matter that she bucked and flailed and kicked him as she squealed her excited delight. Just when he was on the verge of collapse, he felt his unstoppable inner force surge. Desperately, he thrust his meat mightily forward to its limit and crowed out loud as he crunched his glutes and squeezed hers; his fingertips were white on her pulped red mass.

Judith joined her son's shout with her own incoherent yodel as her euphoria trebled. Windmilling her arms, she caught his triceps in her grasping fingers and pulled him forward. Worn out and weary, he tumbled sideways, still lodged in her canal and spitting his seed reserves into her womb. She rolled left with him while her starved and thirsty cunt coerced every last life-giving dram from his withering dick.