You Couldn't Handle Me Ch. 02

My eyes were scrunched in pleasured concentration as I focused only on getting the cum out of my swollen dick. My jacking began to slow as the tanks began to empty, the beams of cum lessening in volume and strength, barely making it past her belly button. Finally, I forced the last of my cum out from my shaft, dripping it onto her. My muscles relaxed and my hands fell to my side. I looked up at Carrie.

She was fucking covered in cum. I tended to cum a lot, but never this much. I had painted her stomach with some of my cum having landed on her breasts and one shot landing on her sternum. Carrie dragged her fingers across her belly and pulled them back, letting the strands of cum stretch between her fingers and her stomach. She looked up at me and smiled.

"Seriously?" she asked in shock. "I'm covered!"

"Sorry, babe. I guess I should have warned you." I told her, regaining my breath.

"I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, judging by those balls of yours." She said. DING! Thanks, Carrie. Thanks for checking off that fact so my mother could hear. I glanced back, just in time to see her shadow disappear.

"You don't seem to be complaining. Most girls do." I said with an impressed smile. "You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" I growled, leaning down and kissing her cheek. She smiled cutely, biting her bottom lip.

"Tom, I'm a nice girl." she said with a dirty smile. "But, I am, like, literally dirty. Could you get me a towel?"

I stood up and glanced wolfishly between her belly and her mouth.

"Okay, I'm not that dirty." she said with a laugh. I smiled and nodded, trotting to the bathroom. I retrieved a pair of towels, tossing one to her as I wiped the sweat and juices off myself.

"Oh! Before you clean up..." I began. I stepped over to my desk. "For posterity."

"Hey! No!" she warned. "Don't do that!"

"Don't worry." I assured her. "It's just for me. I promise."

Carrie rolled her eyes but lied back slightly and posed.

"Give me a smile." I said. She smiled and I snapped a nice picture. I had a picture of each one of my conquests. Carrie would make a nice addition. I set my phone down and nodded at her.

"I'll be cleaning off cum for a week." she said, scrubbing her stomach, laughing. The bang of a cabinet slamming shut downstairs interrupted her revere. Her smile dropped.

"What was that? Is someone home?" Carrie said, panicked.

"Must be my mom." I said, naively.

"Do you think she heard us?" she asked. I shrugged. "Will we be in trouble?" she asked. I smiled.

"Don't worry about it."

Moments later, me and Carrie were cleaned up and dressed. I wanted to say we looked innocent, but I'm sure by the glow shared by both of us and the haphazard way our clothes were put back on, that we looked like we had just finished having sex. We trotted downstairs, her nervous to confront my mom. But I wasn't nervous at all. I was excited. I wanted to see what she would do. I wanted to see her reaction.

We found her in the kitchen. And as I looked at her again, I again marveled at her. I could not get over how sexy my mom was. I knew how fit she was. I had seen her flat belly, fit arms, and firm legs. But looking at her, all I could think about was that she was all curves. All smooth edges, even in her firmer areas. My mom was a fitness freak. Her body was a sports car, and she kept it well-maintained. Her legs were long and firm, but still possessed that delicious feminine curvature. Her arms were fit, the slight curves of her muscles hidden behind her smooth, mouth-watering skin. And she had a flat belly with a hint of abs. Nothing too severe, abs smoothed over in her soft, feminine flesh. Fit as a fiddle, but all woman. She was, quite simply, perfect.

I would still want to fuck her even if she wasn't all tits and ass. But I couldn't picture her without them. Mom was the type of woman built to carry around of pair of massive, fleshy tits. She was built to sport a perfect, round, juicy heart-shaped behind. For a moment, we just watched Mom stride through the kitchen, graceful, sexy even in the innocuous act of packing away some groceries. Only she could make the act of putting away cans of soup sexy.

She wore a pair of slim, tight, sexy tan capri pants, which really hugged her firm ass, showing off its round shape. She was wearing some sandals, showing her bare feet as they clicked on the floor. Up top, she was showing her school spirit by wearing one of her shirts from my high-school. It was a simple grey shirt, but it wasn't built for someone with such generous proportions. It clung to her. It hugged the massive roundness of her ridiculous jugs, showing off how they jiggled with every step, even with her bra on. The top clung to her and her stiff nipples were apparent, as always. This was a casual outfit for her and even it couldn't help but show off her lush frame. Her hair hung in waves well past her shoulders, and her stylish sunglasses were on top of her head.

I glanced at Carrie, and she was shocked by the sight of my mom. She must not have heard the stories.

"That's your Mom?" she whispered. Before I could reply, Mom turned to face us.

"Oh." she said, appraising us. She looked at Carrie. "Hello, dear."

"Oh, uh, hi." Carrie said. Mom paused, a heavy silence between us.

"You guys have fun?" Mom asked, erasing any doubt in Carrie's mind that Mom had heard. Carrie blushed.

"I'm, uh, sorry." she said, looking down, bringing her hand to her forehead nervously.

"Sorry, Mom." I said, staring right at her. Her eyes flashed with amusement and a little bit of, dare I say, respect. She let the silence hang, letting Carrie wallow in the awkwardness. Finally, Mom spoke up again.

"You can go, dear." Mom said with a sickly sweet smile.

"Uh, sorry, Mrs., uh, McGee." Carrie mumbled. I smiled at Mom as I put my hands on Carrie's shoulder. I led her to her car, assuaged her awkwardness and guilt at being caught, and sent her on her way. With a shit-eating smile I went back inside, stepped into the kitchen, and leaned against the counter across from her. She watched me do this as she shut the fridge.

"Was that fun for you?" Mom asked.

"I should ask you the same question." I said, glancing at her nipples.

"You have to be careful, hon." Mom said. "You're gonna break that poor thing's heart."

"How dare you accuse me of not actually caring for her?" I asked sarcastically. "How dare you question my honor?" Mom rolled her eyes at this.

"And how dare you imply that you were actually thinking about her." Mom replied deftly. I smiled. "Poor girl seemed a bit fragile. We're lucky you didn't break her."

"Maybe I need someone who needs it a little more... rough. Someone a bit older. Someone who can take it a bit... harder." I said, staring at her.

"Well, good luck with that." Mom said, packing away some bread.

"Anyone you know?" I asked.

"Ha." Mom said sarcastically. Mom noted my smug arrogance. She stopped putting away a few oranges and looked at me. "You think that impresses me? Hon, you're a good looking young man. It's not hard for you. It'll never be hard for you. Especially with a girl like her, a shy girl with self-esteem issues. I have no doubt that you could get down with half of the girls in your class, and that still wouldn't impress me in the least. You should at least aim a little higher if you want to impress me."

"I am." I said, staring straight at her.

"Well, aim a bit lower than that." Mom said, gesturing with her hands.

"You can't say you weren't at least a bit impressed." I said, stepping forward. "I mean, she did get a bit loud. And she shared some of my... attributes... to the whole neighborhood. That's got be a bit thrilling to know what you have right under your own roof."

"Keep dreaming, bub." Mom said, nonplussed.

"I guarantee Dad doesn't size up to me." I replied.

"Think what you want to think, dear." Mom replied, unfazed.

"Aren't you just the least bit curious? Isn't there some part of you that wants to see it?" I asked.

"I'm good." Mom said.

"Well, do you at least feel, uh... motherly pride?" I asked. Mom laughed.

"I'm beginning to question all the decisions I've made as a mother." Mom said. She paused then spoke up again, scrunching her nose. "Go take a shower. You stink."

I smiled then moved to walk past her, knowing I was right. Knowing deep down, she wanted to see what I was working with. But I could be patient. I could wait. Cause I knew, in the end, I would get her on her knees. I moved to walk away when Mom spoke up again.

"Oh." Mom called out. "I'm going shopping tomorrow. Do you need me to buy you any underwear?"

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, well, I was just wondering if you needed more underwear. I was just thinking, the ones you have now might be too small. I don't know if you need more room for your huge cock and giant balls." Mom said. I shuddered, hearing those words come from my mom's mouth was a huge fucking turn-on. Mom smiled knowingly.

"That right there..." she began, pointing at me. "That is why you will fail. Cause I could say a few simple words and have you shaking with need. And you... you don't affect me at all."

"Bull." I gulped, as she tore me down. She again smiled that arrogant fucking smile.

"That's why I don't care about anything I heard today. It doesn't matter what you're packing. It doesn't matter how big you are, cause I would still break you. You don't have what it takes. When I said 'you couldn't handle me,' I meant it. I'm sorry, Tom, but it's the truth. You might have a man's body, but you're still just a boy. Face facts. I would destroy you."

I stepped back, shocked at how vicious she was.

"Sorry." she said, seeing the effect her words had on me. I sensed a little worry, that maybe even she thought she went too far. Part of me just wanted to be unsubtle, to slam my dick on the kitchen counter and see if she could back up her nonchalance. But that would be so uncouth. So clumsy. But I couldn't let her know that she had me on the defensive. I gathered myself and replied.

"I want you to remember what you just said when you're on your knees, choking on my cock. When you're lustily deep throating me, sucking me as hard as you can. When you're a slave to my cock. Cause that's gonna happen, Mom. Face facts." I snarled at her. A slight smile crossed her lips, a slight relief that her words alone hadn't broken me. I turned and walked away.

"Don't take too long." Mom called out. "We're having ribs!"

*************

Although you might have forgotten this little factoid, I do in fact have a father. A lot of the action so far has happened with him out of the picture, but he was back now for a few months. So at this point, he was unavoidable.

For the most part I got along with him fine. I mean sure, we had our typical disagreements that teenage guys had with their fathers. But, him being gone so long kept things from getting too tense. When he got back, it was nice to see him. And by the time he left I was ready for him to be away for a while.

He was a bit stricter than Mom was. Mom was pretty laissez faire as a parent, and Dad was a bit more of a tight-ass. He was the one that did the punishing when I was a kid. He was the one who prevented me from getting anything too extravagant. Thanks to him, I had an economical car, an okay laptop and only a third generation iphone. At least with Mom, when Dad was gone, she didn't really pester me about how I spent money. She trusted me not to go crazy.

But despite that, Dad was alright. We got along fine, and I'm sure he saw himself in me a bit. While I might sound a bit critical of Dad here, I would slot that as the typical tension between a teenaged guy and his father. But he was always there for me when I needed him to be, despite his busy travel schedule. There was no-one happier for my athletic success than he, and there was no one prouder of any success I had than he was. We might have our disagreements, but I knew he loved me, and he only wanted what was best for me and wanted me to work hard for my success. I could appreciate that fact. But that didn't mean I had to like it.

He was a football player in school, as am I. I kinda looked like him, but I was far from a dead ringer. I had him beat in height, muscle definition, and hair. Though there were enough similarities there where it was clear we were father and son.

Dad looked like one of those guys that used to be really good looking in his younger days. He was tan, his smile was boyish, but he now had wrinkles where he used to have none. His skin was a bit too tan, and while he was still fit, he wasn't what he used to be. His hairline had receded a bit, but nothing too bad. He still looked handsome, while a shell of his former self.

Dad was proud of my success on the football field. He made it to my games whenever he could and I could always talk football with him. We would still play catch in the front yard and watch the games every Sunday.

Mom tried to fight it, but she eventually had to give in and become a football wife. On Sundays, she was forced to listen the cheers from the living room as we grunted and roared in approval of the football on-screen. Mom would try to do errands during game-day, but eventually, she wore down and ended up sticking around. I think she realized this was one of the things me and Dad really bonded over, and she really enjoyed watching it.

"You know, I think this year is the Pats year." Dad said, sipping on a beer.

"Way to take a real leap there, Dad." I began. "Way to pick the most consistently good team of the last decade."

"Well, if all your picks panned out, the Chargers would have won the Super Bowl seven years in a row." Dad replied.

"Well, not this year. They're awful." I said, sipping a lemonade.

Me and Dad were in the living room, sitting on the couch as we watched the late-afternoon football games. Mom sauntered in, sitting on the loveseat and watching the game alongside us. After a particularly hard hit caused me and Dad to holler, Mom spoke up.

"Such a violent game." Mom remarked. "I want you to be more careful than that guy was."

"Well, I'm a QB, so I won't be getting hit like that." I replied.

"Well, Tanya," Dad began. "Maybe he needed a better mother to guide him down the right path."

"Maybe." she said with a smile. We watched the game for a little more. "So, these teams hate each other?" Mom asked.

"Really, Tanya?" Dad asked.

"What?" Mom asked. "I'm, like, sorry I don't know these footballers too well."

"Tanya," Dad said, always proud to know something someone else didn't. "These two teams have played in the Super Bowl twice in the past few years. They ruined the perfect season! Both times, the Pats should have won."

I rolled my eyes. Dad talked a big game, but he didn't know what he was talking about sometimes. He would sometimes get very pompous about things he knew little about, just cause he heard a sliver of info about it in some article. I knew football and I knew which teams were better. That's why I liked to bet with Dad on games. For little things, like what we would have for dinner or something like that. When I competed with my Dad, I tended to win.

"Well, hate is such a strong thing to feel." Mom remarked. "Couldn't they just, like, talk it out? Reason with each other?"

I laughed. Although things between Mom and I had been tense, to say the least, we still could get along fine. For the most part, things were relatively normal between us. I mean, she was still my mother. Certain interactions between us were still very charged, and there was still that tension between us, but both of us were capable of acting normal. Especially with Dad around. Before all of this stuff happened, we got along great, and when she wasn't teasing me and I wasn't mad at her about teasing me, things were cool.

"What?" Mom asked, shrugging her shoulders. "Football would be a much better sport if I ran it."

"Mom, football wouldn't be a competition if it was up to you. They'd all be in a, uh... circle holding hands if it was up to you." I said.

"Hey, there wouldn't be so many injuries if they listened to me. Instead of the Super Bowl, they could just, like, go bowling. How much more fun would that be?" Mom asked. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, start your own league, dear, and we'll see if people watch." Dad said. Mom smiled and she stood up.

"Anyone hungry?" Mom asked.

"No, I'm good." Dad said. "I made me a sammich earlier." Mom rolled her eyes.

"How bout you kiddo?" Mom asked, smiling warmly, innocently as she looked down at me.

"Yeah, I can go for something." I said with a crooked smile.

"Well..." Mom began, bouncing her hips side-to-side cutely as she thought. "We could have... I could fry up some chicken breast?" Mom offered, lacking her typical naughtiness she would use when using the word breast.

"Sounds good." I said, giving my mom the thumbs up. "Do you need any help or anything?" I offered.

"No, I'll be fine." Mom said. "I'll make the sacrifice of missing the game."

Mom stepped out of the room, holding back from shaking her butt at me. This is what I kinda missed. Interactions with my mom where she didn't tease me. Where she acted like a normal mom, not the sexed-up tease she acted like. As soon as she was out of sight, Dad spoke up.

"Cherish it, son." he began. "You won't have this too much longer. Your mom cooking for you, cleaning for you. You know, very soon, you're gonna be your own man. You won't have these things for much longer. You can't lean on Mom for much longer. You won't have her at your beck and call, on her knees, cleaning up after you. So enjoy it while you can."

"What's your point, Dad?" I asked, annoyed at him trying to teach me this life lesson so pompously.

"Just letting you know, son. You've got to be your own man after a while, leave the nest and don't lean on your Mom for all your needs." Dad began. "Get ready to be doing all the stuff that she does for you. Be a self-sufficient man. At least, until you get married. Haha!" Dad said, laughing at his own terrible joke.

"So, you get to let her do all that for you?" I asked.

"Of course. One of the pros of getting married, son. I put a ring on her finger. I earned the right to have her do all those things." Dad said, laughing to himself. He noticed how un-amused I was by his sexist joke. "Tom, I'm kidding. Loosen up."

I wasn't so sure he really was, but Dad got up and stepped towards the kitchen. After a few seconds, I heard Mom giggle.

"Jay! Stop!" Mom giggled, as if being tickled.

"What?" Dad asked knowingly.

Not wanting to hear this, I turned the volume up.

************

It was a couple weeks later. I stepped down the school hallway, reaching into my backpack. As I approached the open classroom door, where students where filing out of, I looked in and saw some of the last few students filing out and saw a familiar face approaching.

"Hey, Tom." Carrie said warmly.

"Oh! Hey, Carrie." I said. I had chatted with her a bit in class and it was clear she was smitten with me. I liked her. She was super nice and fun, and very good in bed. I knew I didn't like her as much as she liked me. But, I was happy to keep fooling around with her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Talking to you, gorgeous." I said with a smirk. She rolled her eyes.

"Really, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I've got to talk with Ms. Graham." I stated, dropping the bravado.

"Well, tread lightly. She's in a bad mood." Carrie said. "I gotta go, but, are we still meeting up on Saturday... to, uh, study?"

"Yeah, definitely." I replied. "To study." I said with a smile. She blanched, looked at her feet, turned and walked out into the hallway. I turned to face the desk where Ms. Graham was sitting, talking to one of her students, this pompous, booksmart guy named Evan.