The Jackson Family Ch. 1

The day started calm and very cool, but brilliantly sunny. Mary Jackson packed some luncheon for her son Tommy and checked the weather report again. Cold with a slight possibility of snow.

She threw on her warmest half-length fur coat over a fleecy T-shirt and plaid skirt, thought about wearing a bra and decided against it. She checked herself in the mirror, and liked what she saw. Mrs Jackson was not a vain woman at all, but appreciated in a kind of dispassionate way her neatly packaged body, her flat stomach and full breasts straining at the T-shirt. At 5'6" she often wished to be taller and leggy like her sister, but it wasn't something she dwelt on. She gave her soft auburn hair a flick and wondered if the red lipstick wasn't just a little too much. It wasn't.

She smiled and hoped there would be some muscular sporty types at the game she could flirt with. She both enjoyed and hated flaunting herself with strangers. Enjoyed the sexual rush she felt when they caressed her breasts with their eyes, and the stammering efforts to impress, but hated the tension she caused for herself. She could never be unfaithful to Gregory, who had given her two lovely children and provided her with a Cherokee runabout and a huge rambling house which she loved. If only he was home more often, instead of wandering around the country on obscure and complicated business ventures.

"Come on Mom! We'll be late"

Tommy's yell woke her from her reverie, she grabbed the keys from the dresser and trotted out to the car.

"Here I am darling. We have plenty of time." She smiled her dazzling best which as always made Tommy melt.

Tommy was a stunningly handsome young man. He was, like his father, fair-haired with bright, sparkling blue eyes. And like his father he was going to be tall and muscular. Already he turned the heads of girls and women alike.

"Tommy, you're going to freeze! Where's your coat and beanie for heaven's sake?"

Tommy was already sitting in the front seat, rubbing his hands and legs vigorously. The air in the car was cold enough to numb his skin. He had stripped down to shorts and his light soccer shirt with "Eagles" neatly written across the front, and No.10 in large white print on his back. Little protection against the penetrating chill.

Mary looked at the sky. The sun had disappeared behind low heavy cloud, and a stiff breeze was swirling around the trees, paper scuttled along the empty streets.

"I'll be fine. As soon as I get there I'll be on the ground running Mom," explained Tommy. "Just turn on the heater."

"Oh Tommy you know the damned thing has been broken for a week, it's freezing in here. Run inside and get some clothes."

"Mom! Go, go, go! We're late," he said urgently, making a whip-cracking sound with his tongue, "Giddyup, go, go!"

Mary smiled, shook her head, started the engine reluctantly and pulled out onto the street for a raw day of watching the indomitable Eagles thrash the speedy but fragile Panthers.

"This is ridiculous," bellowed old Mr Cheshire, "call the bloody game off!"

A number of parents rumbled their agreement and glared at the dispirited officials. What had started as a bright cold day had turned foul. A strong north wind had come groaning over the mountains causing the temperature to plummet to near freezing and swamping the players and the spectators alike with large, wet snow flakes. The boys played on manfully and refused to leave the icy field. With florid language and exaggerated gestures they would finish the game, they said. But the mothers could only see their pain and the child-like pleading in their eyes. Fathers looked sombre, torn between embarrassing their sons and protecting them from the fierce wind and the soaking snow.

Mr Cheshire, a respected bank manager not given to emotional outbursts flourished his umbrella threateningly and boomed, "You'll kill those lads, you fools! Bring them in now! It's only a game, damn you!"

Mary could barely see Tommy in the gloom and the flurries of snow. The boys were playing in slow-motion. Some had stopped almost in mid-stride, hugging themselves and shivering uncontrollably. She had a feeling of dread. Her own warm shirt and fur coat was useless keeping out the bone-numbing cold, what on earth could the boys be feeling? Tears of frustration trickled down her cheek and froze on her white skin.

Suddenly a woman screamed. "Jimmy! My Jimmy!" On the field one of the smaller boys had collapsed to his knees, head bowed as if in prayer. He was quite still. At once the men ran onto the ground towards him. It was a signal for the other parents. Within seconds, there were barely distinguishable shapes hurling themselves desperately onto the arena searching for their children. With them was Mary Jackson, her coat flapping behind her, eyes wild with fear. Everywhere fathers and mothers were wrapping their lads in coats and sweaters and towels.

Tommy was standing alone and calm near the far end goal post. He was quite still. "Tommy! Oh Tommy darling", cried Mrs Jackson, heaving off her coat and throwing it around his shoulders.

"Mom? Mom, what're you...", Tommy's voice trailed away. His speech was slurred. His face was ashen white, and he had a slight frown. The wind cut into Mary's bare flesh. Tommy's hair was sodden, his lips were blue-gray. Suddenly the strapping young man was a little boy again. "I think I'd like to go home now Mommy," he said weakly.

Afterwards, Mary could not remember half-carrying, half-dragging the boy to the car across the ice-covered field. Miraculously amidst the driving snow storm they found the vehicle almost immediately. She bundled Tommy into the passenger seat and did her best to cover him in her coat. He tried to curl up underneath it. She started the car, and remembered the heater. Cursing angrily, she crashed the gears and threw the Cherokee recklessly past frightened and bewildered family groups.

Gently and firmly she took Tommy into the lounge, holding him tightly. Thankfully the house was warmed by the central heating, but still Tommy looked very pale, his eyes slightly glazed and his tongue flickered across dry lips. Worryingly, he was not shivering. Mary rushed down the hallway to the bathroom and began to draw a warm bath.

Somewhere in her panicked mind, she knew hot water would cause even more harm, and from somewhere a piece of useless information popped into her brain. The Germans in World War Two had shown the best way to reverse hypothermia was the warmth of another body. Mary threw her arms around Tommy, hugging him tightly, then realised her fleecy T-shirt was soaked and cold. She tore it off, her heavy breasts swaying gently. Even in his benumbed state, Tommy's eyes widened. His mother's breasts were magnificent. The cold had made her nipples bullet-hard, and soft blue veins glowed just beneath her white skin. Almost automatically, his hands reached for them, just as his mother clasped him again to her warmth trapping his hands firmly around those wonderful globes.

Awkwardly, she guided her son to the bath, tested it with her elbow, just as she had done countless times when he was baby and lowered him into the water. Even at luke-warm temperature, the water burned Tommy's frozen body and he screamed in pain and he thrashed around. Mary struggled with him, somehow stripping him of socks, shirt and shorts and throwing them roughly aside.

Until now, her own half-nakedness, and now Tommy's, had barely registered with her. Now she realised that for the first time in years she was seeing her son naked. She was annoyed when she realised she was blushing. And dismayed when she eased off his jocks and there was a distinct throb in the pit of her stomach, and lower. She saw her darling boy completely nude.

His penis was half-engorged, and swayed sensuously in the warm water. Still alarmed at keeping him warm, Mary swirled the tepid water onto his chest. She leaned over and hugged him again, her swollen breasts crushed against his chest. All the time her hands and fingers were massaging her boy, desperately trying to bring blood to the surface again. Almost by accident -almost- her hand swept between his legs.

Her heart stopped one beat. His cock was fully erect, standing rock-hard and stiff against his stomach. Instinctively, her fingers curled around its shaft and she gripped it.

Beneath her fingers she felt the blood harden his penis even further, and it pulsated. Her husband's cock was huge, but never had she felt a cock so strainingly hard before. Tommy sighed and moaned a little. As if another person had taken control of her body, Mary held the back of Tommy's head with one hand to keep him sliding into the water, her right hand tugged and squeezed and gripped his long beautiful cock.

"Precious baby, you'll be fine darling. Mommy's here now. You'll be warm with Mommy," she whispered. Tommy's eyes met hers, and she smiled. "There, there, baby. It's okay now".

All the time her hand was gently, firmly around his cock. Without thinking, she kissed his cold lips softly, lingering a little.

"Mommy will look after you sweetheart. Mommy's here," she murmured, her lips still against his. "Everything's okay now. Everything's okay."

Tommy lifted his hands from the water and took both her full breasts. He tried to speak, but only a rasping sound came from his throat. For a moment Mary was shocked when she felt Tommy' hands on her breasts, felt his thumbs finger her hard nipples, knowing this was not the gesture of a boy who was delirious. A thrill went through her, tingling her spine, bringing goosebumps to her breasts, hardening her nipples even further. She thought of pulling away, but instead she leant closer, closer to his lips and deliberately pushed a nipple into his mouth. Tommy closed his eyes and groaned softly, sucking gently on his mother's breast.

"My poor baby. Yes baby darling. That's nice, my lovely boy," Mary choked. And with her hand she pulled Tommy's head hard against her breast. "My suckling baby. Suck Mommy's nipple. Everything's fine now. Everything's okay."

Tommy's hands started to squeeze her breasts roughly now. His cock pulsated urgently. Without taking his eyes from hers, his hips started to convulse. With a slight pop, his lips left her nipple, and he gasped, "Mom, I'm going to....to....your hand on my....."

"I know, darling. I can feel it. I want you to cum for Mommy. It's okay," and she beamed at him. Her hand flying on his cock, hard and and urgently.

"Aaaargh! Mom! MOMMY! It's happening!" cried Tommy, his hips and legs and arms flailing.

"Let it come darling, spurt your delicious cum on Mommy. You're a wonderful sweet boy. Cum for Mommy."

Tommy's back arched convulsively, and his cock stretched hard in her hands, then pulse after pulse shot wads of his cream into the air, onto Mary's back and arms. Splashing the side of her breast. Droplets splattered her cheek. To both of them it seemed like gallons of cum had erupted from his cock.

"OOOoh! Mommy! So good! aaaah!"

Mary leant over and mashed her lips against his. Her tongue swirling around his, saliva spilled from their mouths, and Tommy's hand clutched his mother's hair pulling her even closer to him as his convulsions slowed and stopped, and gradually he relaxed and sank back into the water.

"There, darling, does my baby feel better now?"