That's What Good Boys Do Ch. 01

I came home early from my summer job at the landscaping company, feeling tired, dirty, and, as usual, more than a little depressed. I was eighteen years old and still coming home to my mother's house each night. Not that she minded—we had lived together, just me and her, for most of my life. My first year away at school had been tough on her, and I knew she liked having me around, at least for the summer.

What bothered me more, I guess, was that unlike every other guy I knew, I didn't have anywhere else to be that night. The guys at work were nice enough, and would sometime ask me to parties. But parties meant girls, and when it came to girls, I was still clueless. I may as well have still been a kid, the way I felt around them. Even if they tried to talk to me, I'd clam up, and the whole thing would just turn awkward fast. "Just relax," the work buddies would say. "You ain't so bad looking. Just be cool and they'll talk to you."

But talking wasn't the problem. What scared me was what came next. The sex stuff... as if I could even imagine getting that far. It wasn't that I didn't think about it constantly—I just really had no clue how to make it happen.

It's like, as a guy, you're just supposed to hit a certain age and magically know how to do all this amazing sex stuff with a woman, every time, and always at your smoothest. The guys I knew all seemed to know it all—or at least talked like they did. I thought the sexiest thing in the world would be to get a girl naked and make her feel good. But damned if I knew how. I felt clueless, and that made me not even want to try

I guess I was brooding about all of this, as usual, when I walked into the house and down the hallway. My mom's bedroom door was open. I walked past, toward my room, and was about to say hi, when I caught a glimpse of something unusual. I stepped back, quietly, and looked into her doorway.

My mother was standing at the foot of her bed, in front of her full-length mirror, with her eyes closed. She was in a pair of tight black panties and a matching bra... and nothing else. I'd seen her walk around half-naked before, but never like this. The bra was black around the straps, but the rest was see-through, like some kind of fine, lacy mesh stretched across her fat tits.

My mother has never been a small woman, but she's always been shapely, and, truth be told, I've always loved the way she was built. More than once I've sneaked a peek at her gorgeous, pale cleavage peeking out from her blouse in the morning, and then felt terrible for looking. (But not so terrible that I didn't end up humping on my own pillow all night, picturing those amazing tits brushing against me over and over in my mind.) And standing there, as she was, in the bedroom, the magnitude of her curves became all the more apparent. The bra barely contained her—her breasts hung wide and heavy against her, and from where I was standing I could just barely make out the shapes of her huge nipples pressing out against the fabric. Her back was a flawless soft line, dipping in at the waist and then spreading out, at both sides, into a luxurious spread of hips. The skin indented slightly where the panties started, and her round, wide ass cheeks pressed out against the back of them like a pair of sculpted soft globes. There was a hint of fat along the backs of her thighs—just enough to make you realize, just by looking, how soft they must really be—but otherwise the effect was of someone at once comfortable and solid. In other words, the way a woman should be. I saw the way the panties bunched slightly in the crack of her ass and thought, "This is so wrong." But I didn't look away, and I realized, with a mix of shock and excitement, that my cock was getting rock hard and warm against my thigh.

With one hand she was tracing the shape of her own breast through the fabric of the bra. And the other, I realized, was hidden from my view, at the front of her panties, moving in slow circles. She opened her eyes, looked up at her reflection, then saw me in the mirror and gasped out loud.

"Oh God!" she said, and threw both hands over her tits. As if that covered anything.

"Christ!" I said, at the same moment, and stumbled back past the doorway.

She scurried to the door, slammed it shut, then yelled at me through the wood. "Why didn't you tell me you were home?"

"I was going to..."

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I didn't know..."

"What were you doing, watching me like that?"

"What were you doing, mom?"

"None of your business," she said, way too quickly. "I was doing... adult things."

"I'm an adult, mom."

The doorknob twisted and she came out with a robe wrapped around herself. "I didn't think of it that way," she said, looking me up and down. "But I guess maybe you are."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You should be," she huffed. Her ears were bright red.

"But I'm glad I saw it." It came out before I could even think about it.

She glared straight at me. "What did you say?"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "But you... you looked good."

She seemed taken aback. "I... I did?" she asked, quietly.

"Yeah," I said. "Even though I wasn't supposed to be watching. You just looked so good." I stared at my feet, suddenly conscious of myself.

"Oh," she said, half surprised and half sighing. "Look at you right now. You really are just a sweet boy, aren't you?"

I wanted to walk away to my room, but I was too mortified to move.

She stepped closer and put her hand on my face. "Mama's sweet boy," she said and shook her head, smiling. She lifted herself up to kiss me on the cheek, and I felt the familiar sensation of her tits pressed against my chest. But this time, she held herself there, and let the robe fall open around her.

"Did you really like what you saw?" she whispered, in my ear.

"Yeah. I really did."

"Oh yeah?" Her voice was different now. A breathy register I'd never heard before. "Did you like seeing your mama in the bedroom like that?"

"Yes," I said, barely able to breathe.

"Oh God," she said. "It's so wrong."

'What is?"

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked, seriously.

"You know I can."

"Are you sure? I mean, can I really trust you?"

"I'm your son, mom. Who can you trust more than me?"

"You're so right," she said, and squeezed me slowly. Then she took a step back, stared me straight in the eye, and said, "How would you like to be Mama's sweet boy tonight?"

"Oh my god," I said, nearly hyperventilating.

She jumped back. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, mom, it's not that." I reached down and touched her cheek. "It's just... I would love... I mean... yes."

"You... you want that?" she asked, more amazed than anything.

"You have no idea how badly."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You know you can, mom."

Smiling, she took my hand and slipped it inside her robe, resting it on the spread of her bare hip. "Do you know what to do with all of this?" she purred.

"No," I said and blushed again. I couldn't lie. Not to my own mother.

"Well that's alright, baby. Because Mama's going to take you in her room and show you exactly what to do."

She led me by the hand, and back into her bedroom. I was too stunned to say anything. And the fact is, too excited. I felt like anything I said might mess it up, make her come to her senses and push me, horrified, back into the hallway.

She sat me down on the edge of the bed and then stood in front of me, her thick robe hanging open just enough to expose her long cleavage and the black crotch of her panties.

"So what have you done, baby?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she said. "With girls."

"Not much."

"Have you kissed a girl?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen a girl naked?"

"No," I muttered, and hung my head.

"Oh baby, that's okay," she said. "That's what Mama's here for."

She stepped away from the bed and let the robe fall back off her shoulders, onto the floor. Then she stood there, directly in front of me, in nothing but the black bra and panties.

"I just bought this outfit and was trying it on," she said. "Though I wasn't sure who it was for." She stood up straight. "Do you like Mama's outfit?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you like the way Mama looks in it?"

"Oooh yeah."

She ran her hands over her own, barely clad tits. "Oh baby, you make Mama feel so good when you say that."

"I do?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "Do you like to make your mama feel good?"

"Yes."

"I can see," she said, and stared straight at the obvious bulge in my pants. "Is that what Mama does to you?"

I nodded without speaking. She stepped closer, so that her legs were on either side of mine, then reached down and grabbed my stiff cock straight through my pants. I let out an audible groan.

"Such a sweet boy," she said, and squeezed, feeling my cock throb in her hand, then let go suddenly. "But we need to save that for later. First, Mama needs to teach you what she likes."

With one hand she reached back and undid the bra. My mother's heavy tits fell out, and into my face. The nipples were even bigger than I'd imagined, and with beautiful pink circles surrounding them, covering almost the entire breast. With both hands she lifted one and gave it to me. My mouth took it and, like a reflex, started sucking.

"That's right, baby. Suck Mama's big tit. Just like you used to. Yeah, nice and soft. Just like that. Put your tongue on Mama's nipple."

I ran my tongue across it, and felt the skin go tight as her whole body shivered. "Oh yes, baby. Just like that." She held the tit for me while I lapped slowly, all over it. She tasted like sweat, and something much more ancient. Then she gave me the other one and I went to work, brushing the whole breast with my tongue, and stopping occasionally to suck hard at the nipple. I couldn't quite believe what I was doing. But I couldn't stop either.

"Oh god," she said, in a deeper voice now. "That gets Mama so wet. I haven't been this wet in years."

She took her tit away and stood straight up again. I prayed she wasn't going to make it stop.

"Have you ever seen a pussy, baby?"

I shook my head.

She stepped forward so that the black panties were right in front of my face. I could see the texture of her bush pushing out against the silky material. Perfectly framing it, on either side, was a thin spread of dark hair that ran down the inside of each thigh and disappeared... well, I couldn't even imagine where it disappeared to. But I hoped she was about to show me. I felt my balls go tight as rubber bands as my cock grew harder than even I had thought possible.

"Do you want to see your mama's pussy, baby?"

"You know I do," I said, my voice caught in my throat.

She slipped her thumbs into her big waistband and slowly pulled her panties down. I gasped out loud when a bush of thick, dark pubic hair sprang out the top of them. It was different than anything I'd seen on the young skinny girls in my dirty magazines—much messier, but somehow much more animal and inviting and... adult. As if she'd read my mind, she said, "This is what a grown woman's pussy looks like, baby."

A faint scent hit me, something sweet and musty at the same time. I felt something awaken deep inside my body, as if suddenly smelling something I'd dreamt my whole life and never known the name of. My new favorite smell in the world, I realized with deep, guilty pleasure, was the stink of my own mother's pussy.

She slid the panties down and stepped out of them, then held them in one hand. With the other she reached down and put her fingers deep between her thighs.

"Do you want to look at Mama's vagina?" she asked.

I just nodded.

"Good," she half-whispered. "Because Mama wants you to. Mama wants to show you everything, baby." She leaned her shoulders back and used her fingers to spread the hair between her legs. Two thick, swollen pink lips spilled out. She pushed them apart and pulled back, exposing a glistening red clit, nearly wide as my little finger. It looked as hard and worked-up as my own cock, which now threatened to rip straight through my boxer-briefs.

"Look at Mama's big clit," she said, in a raw, desperate voice. "Go on, look at it."

I stared at it, trying to memorize every tiny rigid curve of it.

"Do you like my clit?"

"It's beautiful, Mama."

"Such a sweet boy," she said. "Do you want Mama to show you what a grown woman does when her clit gets big?" She didn't even wait for an answer, just slipped her middle finger carefully over the tip of her own clit. Instantly her eyes shut tight and her whole body shuddered, and I smelled her again, stronger.

"Show me, Mama. Show me what feels good."

Her finger darted back and forth across her clit, which was now poking straight out of its sexy little hood. I watched the way she dragged her fingertips just above it, then across the tip of it for just a moment, then in slow circles all around the edges. She stopped, slid her fingers lower, and dipped them, for just a moment, in the dark, hairy place deep between her thighs. Her body shuddered again, and she moaned out loud. When she pulled her fingers out again, they were completely coated in something clear and slippery, which she smeared all over her clit.

"Oh God, baby. You got your mama so wet."

"Is that a good thing?"

She smiled down at me, but didn't stop fingering. "Ooooh yes, baby. It's a real good thing. It's one of the best things a boy can do." With her free hand she lifted up the panties, still bunched in her palm, and lifted them toward me. "Here, baby. Look what you did to your own mama."

She pushed the crotch of the panties right up against my face. To my surprise, they were soaking wet.

"Oh yeah," she purred. "You really soaked Mama, baby. You made Mama drench her own panties." She pushed them right up against my mouth. Her other hand was working furiously on her fat clit, and she was moaning out loud now.

"Come on, baby. Don't be shy. Smell what you did to Mama. What you did to your own mama... your own mama..." Her voice cut short, gasped, and became a long, low scream.

I couldn't believe I was hearing any woman make a sound like that, let alone my own mother. I breathed deep and was overwhelmed by the smell of her and the salty taste of her slick underwear in my mouth. It was too much for me. I bucked my hips once, my cock shifted against the material of my underpants, and I felt the familiar, inevitable rush of my own gushing orgasm. Except this was far stronger than anything I'd ever done to myself. Because every time my cock contracted, just when I thought it couldn't get any better, I would listen to the sound of her moaning, or breathe in and smell her on the panties again, and my body would shake and come all over again. My thighs tensed, I gasped out loud, and shook helplessly as what felt like gallons of my own hot cum rushed up the stiff length of my cock and straight out of me.

"Oh God," she panted. "Mama loves her sweet, sweet boy!"

I shook one last time as the shock of my unexpected orgasm subsided. I opened my eyes, caught my breath. Then the guilty reality of what I'd just done hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh God mom," I muttered. "I'm sorry."

She rushed to me. "Baby, what are you sorry for?"

I wasn't sure. I thought it was guilt over the whole crazy situation. But then I realized the much dirtier truth: what really bothered me was that I'd let myself come so fast. That I'd been given this once-in-a-lifetime chance, only to—quite literally—blow it so quickly.

I looked down, with shame, at the enormous wet spot spreading across the fabric of my jeans. "I guess I'm not very good at this," I muttered.

My mother's face flushed with fresh emotion. "Oh, honey!" she said, breaking into a smile. She sat down close to me on the bed and put her arm around me, the same way she'd done when I was little and had skinned my knee. "Is that what's bothering you?"

I nodded at the floor.

"Oh, my sweet boy." She shook her head. I could tell she was trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh baby," she said, beaming at me. "Don't you know you just helped make your mama come?"

My heart jumped. "I did?"

"Of course you did." She leaned over, kissed me behind the ear, and whispered, "That's what good boys do."

"I guess I... It's hard to tell..."

"I know, baby. There's a lot to know. But you'll learn." She paused, still breathing heavily, and looked around the darkening bedroom, as if, for her too, the whole situation was just finally sinking in. Then she sat up straight, with that old look that I knew meant she'd made up her mind about something, and said, "And Mama's going to do everything she can to teach you."

I felt horny and terrified at the same time. "But mom... all of this... Isn't it bad for us?"

"Only if you think it is." She took my hand. "What we did right now, did that make you feel bad?"

"Oh mom. You know it didn't."

"That's good to hear, baby. Because you made your mama feel really, really good. Better than I've felt in years."

Despite all my confusion, I felt my heart jump.

"You love your mama, don't you baby?"

"Of course I do."

"Then what's so bad about helping her feel good?"

"But..." I struggled for the words. "Isn't it... wrong?"

She squeezed my thigh, stared into my eyes, and smiled. "I think we're a little past that, don't you?"