You've Got Mail

"Nooo." She said to no one. "The spunk silly! You need to check out the spunk!"

She paused and looked around. Of course there was no one to hear. Her ears burned regardless and she stifled a nervous giggle.

"Trunk." She spoke firmly and clearly. "Trunk."

What is wrong with me? Get a grip girl, your head is turned all around.

Of course it is, she argued, I saw my son give my neighbor and her daughter a cum-bath. Of course my head's turned around. Its not everyday you see your son blow a juicy load.

She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. There, that's better. Now where did I put that remote cum-trol?

She clenched her fingers and toes and her whole frame shook with frustration.

"CON-trol."

Grrrr!

Later that afternoon she lay on her back on the sofa with her legs stretched across her son's lap. He had rented an action film but she was more concerned with the sour cream dip he'd bought.

As she watched Bruce Willis shoot yet another bad guy -- yawn! -- she dipped a breadstick into the cream -- yummy! - and brought it to her mouth. Her tongue idly flicked at the tip, before closing her teeth around it with a crunch. She watched with delight as her son's eyes darted to look at her. He shifted about uncomfortably and she stifled a grin.

This is what you want right? A sexy brainwashed mom? She bent her leg at the knee and pushed down on his thigh with a bare foot. She felt a bulge in his trousers twitch beneath her toes.

Jackpot.

"Sit still." She moaned. "You're so fidgety."

She clenched her toes and they grazed lightly across his swollen shaft. He flinched.

"S-sorry mom."

She tutted at him and shook her head. Then she fed another dollop of sour cream into her mouth. You think you're such a great mind reader Benny-boy? Well your old mom can read minds too. I know exactly what you're thinking. You're thinking you'd like to dip your big old cock into the sour dip and then have me lick it off aren't you? Your own mom. Well it's not going to happen you little pervert. Can you read that? It's not going to happen.

A dollop of cream dropped onto the swell of her breast. It was cold and she jumped. She flicked a finger across it and sucked it clean. She looked up and he was grinning at her.

"What?" She asked.

"You're getting cream all over you."

She smiled back at him sweetly.

Pervert.

Okay Gemma, she told herself. Okay. Just settle down there. It's just a game right? Just a game to teach him a lesson. No need to start getting irritated at the poor horny pup. After all you're doing this for his own good right?

Yes she replied. It's for him, not for me.

Her panties were sopping.

They sat in silence for most of the film though Gemma barely caught two minutes of it, so caught up was she in her own head. When it was done she got up, pecked him on the cheek and told him she was going to bed.

Alone in her room she quietly scolded herself. She was supposed to make a fool of him. That was the plan right? Show him that he wasn't able to control peoples' minds. What was the point of all that teasing if she didn't pull the rug from under his feet at the end?

But he hadn't made a move had he? Lord knows she'd given him enough opportunities. A whole days worth.

She had to peel her panties off her crotch before getting into bed. Hell, I feel horny, she thought. And then she fell asleep.

She called in sick on Monday morning though the only part of her body burning with fever was between her legs. She tossed and turned in bed for a few hours trying to fight her aching sex.

It's just the excitement of dressing sexy yesterday, she told herself. It's been too long since you indulged that's all. After all, when was the last time you enjoyed a good fuck? Her mind drew a blank.

Exactly.

"It's a wonder I don't have cobwebs." She whispered. I'm only thirty-six, I'm too young for cobwebs. Now that slut Sarah Matthews, she should have cobwebs. I reckon she would too if Ben hadn't fucked her. She probably hasn't had a decent orgasm in years; she should thank my Benny for taking care of her.

Gemma spread her legs and slowly began stroking her pussy as she contemplated this, though it was a subconscious act and she was barely aware of it.

"I wonder if she begged too?" she murmured.

Begged TOO? She held onto the tail end of that thought and examined it with a puzzled expression on her face. What do you mean by that? she asked herself. Who else is going to beg?

"I mean... I mean..." she whispered anxiously.



A whole load of juice leaked onto her hand and her fingers became slippery. She moaned and worked one, then two fingers inside.

"Mmm, I mean Ashley of course." She blurted this out defensively. "Yes. Ashley Matthews. She was there too."

An image flashed across her consciousness. Two women -- mother and daughter -- on their knees with their heads tilted back and their mouths open like two baby chicks being fed. Rich nutritious spunk erupting violently from her son's cock.

Her pelvis bucked and she added a third finger. Her slick pussy took it hungrily and without complaint.

"Oh god!" She protested at the images assaulting her and squeezed her eyes shut. "Why am I thinking about this? Go away!"

Suddenly there was blackness and she was relieved. Then came an absent careless thought. She broke out in goose bumps and her fingers paused in their ministrations.

What if it's him? Controlling my mind? What if it's true?

"No, surely not-" She began.

But he looked so confident didn't he?

"Yes but-"

And here you are masturbating like a teenager.

"It's not possible." She stated. "It's just not possible."

She chewed her bottom lip nervously. But he did look confident didn't he?

Sat there on the sofa.

With his juicy cock.

"Oh god!" She clapped her hands over her face. Fuck I'm going crazy! She rolled onto her side and pushed her head into the pillow. When she removed her hands again she looked a little calmer. She took a few slow deep breaths and tried to manage her thoughts.

I'm just horny that's all. I'm doing all this to myself. My son is not controlling my mind. My son is NOT controlling my mind. She twirled a lock of hair around her fingertip and stared at the ceiling uncertainly.

"Fuck I've got to get that letter!"

Things didn't quite go to plan. She took a shower but when she emerged from her room five minutes later she was still naked. She wasn't concerned that her son might see her because she'd heard him go out earlier that morning.

But she couldn't find anything to wear. And it was bad, real bad. She couldn't even find any underwear. She rummaged around her clothes drawer and threw set after set of panties, knickers and thongs onto the floor. They were all very nice, but they weren't red. It had to be red panties or nothing at all. She didn't know why but that's just the way it was. There was a pair of cotton whites with red flowers on them but she only managed to get them on as far as her knees and no farther.

She looked at yesterday's yummy red pair lying beside her bed. They were stained with her juices and needed urgent washing. She reluctantly dumped them in the hamper and then, with no other option, forgot the underwear and slipped into a short black skirt. It wasn't red but had a cute pink trim along its hemline. Which was short. The skirt had a slit up the side and revealed quite a lot of thigh. And it was tight and hugged her ass.

"At least I won't have a panty line." She tittered and buttoned her small black shirt. She appraised herself in the mirror and then added some pink gloss to her lips. She smiled at her reflection but something wasn't right. After spending another fifteen minutes brushing her hair she eventually decided on a simple ponytail. All the time she continually scolded herself.

"C'mon, c'mon stop fannying around, you've got to get that letter."

When her hair was done she breathed a sigh of relief, slipped into some shoes and walked quickly out of her room.

Two minutes later she came running back in, pinned some red hoops to her ears, slipped into some red heels and then walked out again.

In the city she was gathering stares like some people collected stamps. Though she was in a hurry it had been a while since she'd worn heels and they were forcing her into a slow careful slut-strut. Her hips rolled and her ass shimmied as she walked down the high street.

Normally the stares would have irritated her but today she didn't seem to mind, they just seemed to set her body on fire. She could feel her nipples, rock hard little nubbins grazing against the inside of her shirt. And her pussy tingled with every cool breeze. With each passing moment she regretted more and more that she hadn't finished masturbating earlier. Her legs felt awful unsteady.

As she walked past a shop window she paused and looked at her watch. It was only 1pm. She had another four hours before the post office shut. Plenty of time. She smiled up at the mannequin with the red garter belt and then walked inside the store.

Two hours later she left carrying three large shopping bags stuffed with stockings and garters; push-up bra's, demi-bra's and panties. Lots and lots of red panties. But she still wasn't satisfied. As she had tried on the various items she had become increasingly distracted by her reflection. More specifically her hair. It just wasn't right.

Ten minutes after leaving the clothing store she was sat in a salon. When Jacque, her usual stylist heard her request he just stood behind her in stunned silence.

"Ar-are you sure?" he stammered.

"Yes."

"Its just that normally you're so conservative and-"

"Oh please Jacque. Just do it for me. I've got places to go."

"But the way you're dressed. You'll look like... like..." he protested.

"I know what I'll look like." She squirmed about in the chair. Her pussy was soaking. "Just do me!"

Ninety-minutes later she admired herself in the mirror.

"See?" she told her hairdresser. "I told you it would look good." She rummaged around in one of her shopping bags and retrieved two red ribbons. "Will you put these in for me now?"

When she emerged from the salon her hair was in pigtails with little red bows. She looked like a hot little porn star and she'd never been happier.

Unfortunately she only had fifteen minutes until the post-office closed and she was going to be late.

John had worked as a mail clerk for fifty years. Man and boy. He'd seen plenty of things but never anything like the hot piece of tail that swayed in at closing time.

"But you don't understand." She was telling him. "I have to have that letter otherwise I won't be able to stop him."

"Stop who?"

"Benny of course. He said I was going to kneel and -- and I'm afraid he might be right." She was babbling at him and not making an awful lot of sense. "Mister, I don't want to kneel-"

"Then don't. Look lady I don't see what this has got to do with a letter. Just wait for it to be delivered. It'll get there tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she exclaimed. "But-but-but you can't! It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair sweetheart, and neither is the postal service."

Gemma took a deep breath in and then exhaled. She leaned forward across the counter, letting her cleavage spill forward out of her shirt. She looked up at the mail clerk and spoke slowly as though he were a simpleton.

"Look. You know he can't read minds and I know he can't read minds. But look at the state of me... Does it look like I can be trusted with a cock?"

As a matter of fact he thought she could be more than trusted with a cock. She looked like she knew exactly what to do with it. He said nothing though, just raised his eyebrows and smiled while she continued.

"Look at me." she was saying. I'm out of control." As she said this she swung her bags in the air and piles of sexy underwear tumbled out. "Oh crumbs!" she said and sunk to her hands and knees.

John peered over the counter and watched happily as she scrambled around retrieving her clothes. To his delight each time her ass shimmied her skirt worked its way farther and farther up her thighs. Eventually it slipped up around her hips to reveal her snatch, which was tight and smooth and glistening. If she noticed she didn't seem to care.

It was too much for the poor mail clerk to bear and as he eased himself over the counter he was already negotiating.

"Okay sweet cheeks the letter's all yours. But first you're gonna help old John out okay."

Gemma looked back at him and her eyes widened as he fished his cock out of his pants. She groaned.

"Oh God! Yes! Whatever it takes. Please just fuck me. I-I really need it."

And as the words left her lips she realized that she was telling the truth. She did need it. She really did. It had been a long and frustrating day. As the old man pushed his gnarly cock inside of her she gave a grateful little moan and came almost immediately. For John, who had never fucked a girl this hot when he was half his age, it was too much, and as she spasmed and convulsed around him he blew a hot load inside her.

As she drove home that evening she felt calmer. Like a weight had been lifted. Or like all the tension had been released. It had been five years since she'd last been fucked. Lord knows why, she knew she could get it every night if she wanted. There were plenty of eager men, and they could offer a whole lot more than her afternoon post office affair. But brief as it was, her orgasm had been tremendous and in her post-coital bliss she now felt like she could think clearly again. She blushed with disbelief at her behavior. I'm such a slut, she thought.

But she felt a curious sense of peace regardless. She realized she had repressed her sexuality for far too long. That was all. That was why she'd acted so confused. That was why she hadn't been able to think straight. Her son wasn't controlling her mind. It was preposterous to think that such a thing was possible. She kicked herself for even entertaining such a notion.

Maybe that's what had happened to their neighbor Sarah Matthews. Maybe Ben had merely planted the idea in her head and she'd let it run away with her and the next thing she knew she was on her knees beside her daughter catching spunk.

Gemma liked to think that she was a little more strong willed than that. That she wouldn't be so easily manipulated by subliminal suggestions. Okay, so she had fucked the post office clerk. But no one had made her do it. No one could make her do anything. She was in complete control.

She looked over at the letter sat on the passenger seat and smiled with relief anyway. Now that it was in her possession she felt a whole lot easier. Ben sure was in for a disappointment.

She slowed her car as she approached a red -- yum! -- light.

Yum rhymes with cum she thought absently. And they both rhyme with son. Isn't that funny?

When she got home her first instinct was to tear open the envelope and read its contents. But then she thought about Ben and how smug he'd looked when he told her that after he'd read her the letter she was going to ... well, when he'd said he would control her. But now the tables could be turned right? By her reading the letter to him she could deprive him of his opportunity. Deny him his control of the situation.

Yes, a moment like this wasn't to be wasted.

She could hear him upstairs in the bath and calmly but reluctantly put the envelope to one side. This was going to be worth the wait.

As she sat in the kitchen moments later, she sipped at a cup of coffee and thought about how crazy she'd been acting. She shook her head in exasperation at her own foolishness. Still, it hadn't exactly been a normal week had it? Most moms wouldn't be too surprised to inadvertently catch their son's masturbating, but to catch him as he's ejaculating onto two women? No it hadn't exactly been a normal week.

She supposed that some of her behavior could be explained as a reaction to the obvious realization that her son was now a man. And she'd spent so much time thinking of herself as a mom, that maybe she'd stopped thinking of herself as a woman.

Maybe that's what this is? She thought. Maybe that's why Ben said the things he said? Maybe he was trying to defend his masculinity by trying to assert his control over me as a woman.

That still didn't excuse him though: he had behaved like a pig. And the more she thought about this the more her emotions started to simmer and boil over. He'd behaved like an obnoxious pig and somehow she'd let him defuse the situation and deprive her of her right to adequately punish him. She'd relinquished her control of the situation so easily!

Too easily!

She decided then and there that she'd waited long enough. She was still his mom and it was time for her son to learn his place!

When she burst into the bathroom seconds later she was carrying the letter in her hand and her blood was roaring in her ears. To her amazement Ben barely flinched.

"Oh hi mom. Come to wash my back?"

She wanted to knock his smug grin right off his face and when she smiled back at him it was with the realization that now she knew how to do it.

"Not at all Ben. Not at all." She waved the letter in the air. "I just wanted to show you what I picked up from the post office today."

Her son frowned back at her and she felt a little thrill of delight tingle in her stomach.

"That's not addressed to you mom."

She grinned triumphantly. "Well I'm going to open it anyway."

"Seriously mom, I don't think you should be reading that."

Gemma kneeled down beside the bathtub and sneered at him. She tore at the seam of the envelope with a long fingernail. "Well I'm afraid that's too bad honey. Because I'm going to read it and you're going to listen. Weren't expecting that were you?"

"Mom." He warned but it was too late. He watched as his mother tore open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

"Dear Sarah." She read.

Sarah?

Dear Sarah, your father and I just thought we would drop you a quick letter whilst we were away...

"This isn't for me." She said and was immediately deflated. She picked up the envelope and looked at the address. It was addressed to her neighbor. "This is the wrong letter." She protested stupidly.

"That's what I tried to tell you." Ben said.

"But...but..."

But that means the real letter was still out there didn't it. Her letter. THE letter. It was still out there and on its way. The countdown had begun.

"No." she whispered meekly. "No, you can't. You can't."

"Can't what mom?" he looked at her, all innocent and sweet while she sat back on her heels. Dazed.

"It's not fair." She murmured.

"Hey." Ben soothed. "Just relax will you." He handed her some soap and turned around. "Look just relax and wash my back will you."

She looked down at the soap in a stupor and then began lathering up her hands. As she stroked in circles across his skin she felt the contours of his shoulder blades and the smoothness of muscle. She felt like she was in a dream. She didn't know what to think, didn't know what to say, and didn't know what to do.

So she washed him. Just like he asked. She worked his shoulders and his arms. His neck and his back. And he talked the entire time. Spurring her, encouraging her. And she was in a dream. She was an automaton and she was in a dream.

When he stood and turned she stayed kneeling and he towered above her.

"And now this." He was saying and he lazily waved his cock in her face. It was full and hard. She reached up and ran her hand along his inner thigh. She looked at his dick thoughtfully.

He smiled down at her and patted the top of her head encouragingly with a wet hand.

"Better make sure you get it nice and clean mom. After all, the mail arrives tomorrow."