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"You want to put my penis in timeout?"
"Hey, it'll be hard for me too. We can handle 48 hours though. And it'll be worth it," she defends.
"I don't want to torture myself," I resign.
My mother crosses her arms in dismay before something registers in her brain. She blurts out, "I still have my wedding dress."
"What?"
She expounds. "If you don't cum for two days I will literally let you fuck me in the dress I wore at the church I married your father in."
"Jesus." I swallow.
She laughs. "He'll understand. After all, he had a thing for girls who shared his mom's name."
The doorbell rings, and my mother leaves to pay for the delivery.
"Ugh." I stare down at my boxers.
'Sorry buddy.'
***********************
Thursday
I don't know if it's the garbled gurgling or the amazing sensation around my genitals that spikes me back to consciousness. Plump lips, flared around the hood of my penis head, suckle and slurp the skin so gently that I almost cum immediately. Her tongue glides over the pores of my cock with an oral dexterity that is impossible to teach. A bit of saliva remains connected to her lip as she pulls away and stares at the pillar of meat snared in her hand. Her hankering for cock has evidently not diminished, yet she waits for me to speak.
"Moomm," I splutter.
'Am I even awake?'
She's in another new outfit from her shopping spree; a satin negligee top, the same dramatic shade as her ruby lipstick, and a pair of white, thigh high stockings. Her hair is drawn back into a ponytail, displaying her lovely visage.
"Do you like it? Is it too tacky?" She tugs at the stockings.
"Wha-What happened to no sex for 48 hours?" I croak.
"As long as you don't cum we should be fine," she says.
"I can't prom..." I respond.
Her free hand moves quickly, stacking onto the other and gripping my dick like a baseball bat. She slowly works both hands up and down my shaft.
I shudder.
'Ok this isn't that bad.'
"You good?" She checks.
I nod.
"Good." She accelerates her strokes.
I let out a groan.
"It's okay," she winks and kisses my pee hole.
"Oops." My penis twitches threateningly. "Sorry."
Her apology doesn't mean much. She continues trying to mold my turgid piece of flesh like it's made of clay. I strain my neck and try keeping my breaths even.
It doesn't help. I center my attention to the floor. There is an empty whipped cream can that stokes the cache of memories created from yesterday's circus.
'I can't hold it. Fuck it, I'm just gonna cum.'
The doorbell rings and we both bolt upright.
'Dad?'
"Shit, what are they doing here so early?" My mother lets go of my cock and whirls around.
'Oh. False alarm.'
"What time is it?" I look to the dresser clock. It's 8:22 AM.
"Oh my god, look what I'm wearing... And I haven't even changed the sheets or picked up this sty," My mother freaks out.
"I can just tell them to screw off," I propose, grabbing a pair of discarded jeans from the floor.
"No! They were the only service I could find with an opening for today. Just... Give me a minute." She tosses me one of my wrinkled t-shirts and then pushes me toward the bedroom door.
"What am I supposed to do?" I lobby.
"Distract them for a few minutes," she replies, closing the door abruptly.
The doorbell rings again. I trudge down the hallway. Seeing my mother flustered in such sexy apparel has not helped to kill my boner. I tuck it under my waistband, so it doesn't stick out as much.
'It's a good thing she only kissed your dick and not your face with that lipstick.'
***********************
It takes 15 minutes for my mother to emerge from her room. The cleaning lady doesn't mind starting at the other end of the house. She is older than I expected, probably late 50s, with graying hair, and a sunny attitude. I manage to locate and remove any dirty clothes before she unloads her cleaning supplies.
"Thank you so much, this week has just been so hectic. I'll warn you that the master bedroom is a bit messy. It was my husband and my anniversary the other week and... My son just finished high school, so things have been busy," my mother rattles off an explanation. She keeps her hands in the back pockets of her blue jeans while gabbing innocently with the maid. Her modest black shirt hides the black diamond necklace I've gotten so used to seeing suspended above her mammaries. She's kept her hair in a ponytail, but the rest of her slutty costume and makeup is gone, for now.
'She's still super hot.'
I try not to stare at her ass, but mentally I envision yanking down my pants, bending her over the sofa and pounding my thick cock in and out of her magnificent pussy and dispensing the six-pack of cum from my blue balls.
'Why did she have to wake me up like that?'
I volunteer to go pick up some breakfast. When I get back, my mother is in the guest bedroom, one of the few areas the maid has finished cleaning. She glances at me with a coquettish grin.
"Where is she?" She whispers.
I look outside the doorway.
"My room, I think. Why are you whispering?"
"Close the door," she instructs.
I drop the bag of croissants on a chair and shut the door.
"Your father called to confirm that he'll be getting in tomorrow evening," her tone is earnest.
I run my hand through my hair. "Wow."
'Shits about to get serious.'
"I told him to take a cab home, that you had plans," she says.
I nod. "I'll head out by 6."
She pats the space next to where she's sitting on the fold out bed, gesturing me over. Her posture is rigid and resigned. We sit in silence for several minutes.
'This is obviously hard for her, don't be an asshole!'
I move my hand to her back and rub between her shoulders.
'Say something!'
"This isn't your fault, it's mine. That fucking necklace..."
"Shut up," she brushes me off.
"Seriously, had I known... had I known..." I can't bring myself to say it. As fucked up as it is, I love my mother, like in every possible context of the word. This summer has shown me who she really is, and it's time to stop pretending that I'm not addicted to her, that we could end it and things would be okay. We both know that divorcing my father is only the first step in a string of life changing decisions that we will have to make to protect our forbidden relationship, but there is no alternative.
"I didn't mean to do this to you..." I continue.
"Jake Shut Up!" She proclaims. "You didn't do this. We did this. And I don't regret it. The thought of going back to who I was... Miserable and spiteful..." She leans into me, and I wrap my arms around her. Her face tilts up and I kiss her lips. We lock eyes as our foreheads touch and her fingers run through my hair.
"You need a haircut," she says, exhaling hot breathe over my face. My hands sneak from the small of her back to the back waistline of her jeans. She scoots onto my lap. My fingers delve under the denim barrier. Groping her naked ass cheeks, she rotates her hips over my crotch, dry humping as our mouths connect and tongues touch.
The wet, sweet taste I've gotten to know so well graces my receptors. My hardening phallus toils beneath the twilled cotton barrier of our pants. We make out, kissing each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Her beautiful long, dark lashes flutter as her eyes close. She clenches her buttocks and squirms as my palms enjoy feeling up the perky eye-magnet.
"If you keep doing that I'm going to jizz in my jeans," I warn.
She stops wiggling.
After a few more minutes of kissing and heavy petting, we hear movement in the room next to us.
"Let's have breakfast," my mother suggests. She wipes her lips and straightens her shirt.
***********************
Despite the early start, it takes the maid nearly 6 hours to clean the whole house. I spend most the time crashing on the guest bed.
'Oh fuck!'
The pressure is painful. I twist to my side and behold the bulge in my jeans. I can feel its impatience brewing.
'It's only going to get worse the longer I wait.'
I pace around the room, checking my phone and ignoring the dark thoughts raging in my hormone riddled mind. The tightness in my pants eventually slackens enabling me to leave the room. I follow the sound of voices from the hallway. As I turn the corner, I see my mother writing out a check and thanking the maids for doing such a fine job. The older woman notices me, stiffens, and looks away.
'Weird.'
My mother tears out the check and hands it to the woman.
"Do you think you'll be needing our services again?" The gray-haired cleaning lady inquires.
"There's a good chance we might," my mother answers politely.
The maid lowers her voice, so I can barely distinguish what she's saying.
"I've seen it all, and I can be very discreet." Her wrinkly hand slips into her pocket.
"I'm sorry?" My mother flashes her disarming smile.
"No need to be sorry, darling." The maid withdraws something from the pocket and displays it to my mother. "The lord is not so fickle as to judge us for our every little indiscretion."
My mother opens her mouth to respond, but falters to complete a thought. She takes the object from the maid's open palm sheepishly.
"Well then, I hope you and your son have a wonderful rest of the day," she states, briskly picking up her last bag of cleaning supplies.
As the front door closes I walk up to my mother who still hasn't moved.
"What is it?" I ask, looking down at her closed hand.
She unclasps her fingers.
'Oh.'
"I must have missed it under all the clutter." My mother discloses. She slips the wedding ring back on but seems perturbed with herself.
"It's fine, nothing bad happened. That lady even seemed cool with it."
"I'm not worried about her. I just wouldn't want your father to find out that I haven't been wearing it. If he doesn't trust me when I ask for the divorce, he'll have the option to drag it out," she turns away.
"Even if he did, I'm positive you could convince a judge to see things your way," I contend.
"And why is that?" My mother smirks as my arms slide around her from behind.
"Because you're too fucking hot to say no to," I kiss the top of her head, then her ear, then her neck...
***********************
Friday
I'm back in my own bed. Thus, marking the first night since taking my mother that we aren't sleeping together. It's for the best, though. Her presence alone is a walking syringe of heroin to my drug addled mind. Being around her is too much. Even barricaded in my teenage chambers, one of the few places unsullied by our consanguine taboo, my penis stands in full rebellion. It's 1 AM, and my internal body clock only acts to remind me that I haven't cum in over twenty-four hours.
I toss and turn, incapable of rolling over with the pulsing sycamore tree that tents my sheets. When I manage to close my eyes, my dreams tease a stream of short, unfulfilling moments. In one, I'm standing in the doorway of her bathroom as she gets ready for a night out. She tarts herself, accentuating her eyes with a little shadow, and smacking her pink, succulent lips in the mirror. She's wearing a bluish grey halter top with an open back.
"Do you think this is too much?" She posits and does a pirouette in front of the mirror.
One of her spaghetti straps slides down her shoulder, exposing a significant wedge of chest. She adjusts the plunging neckline, but her necklace catches on the thin string. I reach to touch the inviting diamond, but she steps back, unfurling her hair and shaking it out sensuously. Her devious smile fades into fog as the dream ends.
In another episode of unconscious fantasy, I watch as my mother seduces an Italian gate agent into downgrading my father's ticket for his flight home. We board the plane, and she flashes her pearly white smile at the sight of her irritated husband cramped in the middle seat of one of the very last rows. Before he notices us, she's leading me into one of the stalls. I tear into her tight black, "fuck me" cocktail dress, the thin material surrendering easily in my eager fingers. Nothing feels as good as her skin. The soft, perfumed texture of her body makes me manic. She audibly gasps, as my hands slide their way up her thighs, hiking up the ruche hem to discover a matching lace thong. Her legs part as I peal the honey-soaked garment from her forbidden garden. She shudders, gingerly touching the outer folds of her tender female flesh. I unbuckle my pants and pull down my boxers. Her eyes widen at the immense package dangling between my legs.
There's nothing left to say, each of us feels what must happen. Bracing herself with the metal bar, I hoist her toned legs around my waist. My cock prods abusively at the delicate entrance of her pink hole until my mother grabs it by the base and shoves it through the quivering flaps of her gushing gash.
We stare lustfully at one another as I begin pounding away, waves of pleasure flowing through my body. The ding of the seatbelt warning reminds me of my father.
'Her pussy is mine now.'
I increase the pace of my strokes, pumping her so hard that the heels of her sharp, red sling backs smack against the folding door.
Sandwiched together, she begins to thrash and moan until sweat streaks down our faces. My suddenly huge cock forges onward, stretching her fertile pussy to the brink. I rape my mother, grasping her matronly hips and pinning her above the sink.
'Deeper.'
Her eyes role to the back of her skull as I plunge my veiny arm in her well. The muscles in her graceful neck strain visibly at the intrusion. She begins clawing my back with her manicured nails as my nuts ricochet against her taint. I'm encouraged to push her golden ass against the wall for more leverage. The sound of our smacking sexes and the tones of my mother's high pitched feminine whines fill the humid compartment. They soon turn to wails as the tumultuous attack is too much for her weeping pussy. The cacophony stirs me in a heedless barrage of sustained thrusting. I feel myself destroying her cunt. She bucks her hips, rocking and squeezing the evil hammer as it jabs around with godlike fury, putting pressure all over the walls of her pussy. Her head wobbles between her shoulders like a rag doll, throwing her hair everywhere.
'Make her yours.'
I arch my back to propel the last of my massive prick through her bee stung cunt lips, marinating it in the deepest confines of her clenching vagina. A bulge appears at the surface of her concave belly. My mother yelps, her face contorts with pain as I poke her cervix. She flails beneath me, palms sliding up and down my muscled biceps as her nails scrape against my flesh. The ache in my balls signals an impending orgasm of colossal proportions. I bury my face into her cleavage, smelling her perfume and feeling her tits. The necklace burns against my cheek and I'm just about to move it when...
I awake to a painful erection. And though it's not as gigantic as the one I wielded in my dream, it still seems larger than usual.
'That was intense.'
I succumb to giving my cock a few strokes while checking out the selfie my mother sent. It doesn't help. Somehow, I know I won't feel right until I'm back in the real embrace of her sex.
The day is boring, and the grogginess I'm left with after a night of turbulent slumber leaves me horny and cranky. I don't bother leaving my room till after noon. My phone buzzes routinely with updates about Cady's party, and although it'll be good to get out, I'm not that psyched to go.
Parking in front of the TV, I spend a couple more hours surfing the channels. I stick to watching primarily sports, but there is no taming my desperate libido. When a commercial for some stupid cookware product pops on the screen, and the attractive actress with dirty blonde hair and generous curves begins doling out advice on how she feeds her family, I whimper, pulling on the crotch of my jeans to adjust for my rapidly ripening banana.
Not too much later, I hear the light footsteps of my mother as she strolls up behind the couch, slides her hands down my shoulders and leans in to give me a peck on the cheek. I'm so hypersensitive to any sexual sensation that I tense up, registering not only the soft stickiness of her lips, but the gentle swell of her breast as it skims the back of my neck, the scent of her sharp perfume as it invades my mind, and the glassy nude shimmer of her nails as she squeezes my shoulder playfully.
'Pull her down and make her yours!'
I glance up and she gives me a coquettish grin. The neck of her purple robe hangs open, and I get light headed following the mile-long valley of cleavage sloping between her swaying breasts. She lingers, resting her elbows on the back of the couch, presenting her sexiness until my rigid pecker lurches painfully in my shorts. Her smile widens shamelessly.
"Finally finished washing the bed linen. I swear some of those splotches were never coming off," she informs me.
'Fuck the sheets. I'll plug myself in you so hard that there won't be any jizz to mop up.'
"You okay?" She asks as if unaware of her effect on me.
"Um... Yeah, sorry." I try clearing my thoughts.
She ruffles my hair. "Good. I'm going to get ready for your father soon. You excited for your party?"
I nod, feeling a tinge of annoyance at the mention of her getting ready for some other guy. She picks up on it.
"Veil or no veil?" She nudges.
'Hmmm...'
She giggles, "Actually, I'll make that surprise."
She sashays away, swaying her ass to and fro, and creaming at the thought of her boy's hard cock. As her silky, tan legs turn the corner I gulp.
'Dayum.'
I only see my mother once more before heading out. She's setting the table in preparation of dinner with my father. I flip open a beige folder that's sitting on the countertop.
'She's already signed the divorce.'
Clad in a preppy dress that shows off her lean and lotioned legs, I feel anxious and uneasy leaving her alone with my father. An interesting side effect to the radical reshaping of my moral psychology over the last few days has been a budding jealousy in my subconscious. I know it's petty, but when looking at my beautiful mother the barbarian in me prompts to claim her before anyone else has the chance.
Misreading my face, she sighs and struts up close to me.
"You're not having second thoughts, are you? Not after everyth..."
"I'm not!" I interrupt.
"Good." Her eyes slit, and she slowly licks her lips. She comes in for a hug, but her arm drops at the last second moving to cup my dick through my pants, while sticking her tongue in my ear.
"My pussy has been throbbing all day. I'm so hot for you and only you." She whispers, then steps away.
I pull her back in, feel her spongy melons flatten against my chest, and kiss her hard on the lips.
"Mghmm," she tries to speak before embracing the kiss. I can taste alcohol on her warm breath.
'I must not be the only one nervous.'
***********************
"Where the fuck have you been?" Reece shouts from across the lacquered porch in front of Cady's driveway.
"What do you mean? I'm super early." I walk the steps of the towering residence. It's no secret that Cady's parents come from money. It's why, when she moved to my high school in sophomore year, she ascended the ladder of popularity quicker than most the preppy girls. Having the reputation for throwing excessively wild parties and splurging on her entourage of friends ended with her being voted prom queen and "most likely to become famous" in the yearbook. Some might think she is the manifestation of a spoiled child obsessed with keeping up her image, but that opinion is usually relegated to students who are not cool enough for an invite.
