I swear, it all started with innocent intentions. But they quickly went out of the window.
Ron, my husband, had gone out of town for the weekend on business. And Jason - our son - was back home for the first time since he flew the nest for university. At first, it felt incredible to have my little guy back around the house; I missed having him more than I realized. But I was about to discover something else: he wasn't so little anymore. He was a man -- with a man's needs.
The first incident occurred the Saturday night he came home. It involved snuggling under blankets and drinking too much box wine. It featured a needy son and his doting mommy who didn't know when to say no. It ended with a satisfied son and a sticky mommy in an even stickier situation.
Now, my new normal involves helping my son get off!
My New Normal
It was a beautiful summer evening. The sun was setting outside. The scent of my house-renowned meatloaf thickened the air. Oh, and Jason - my only son - had me bent over the kitchen table with his cock hot-dogged between my ass cheeks.
My pretty summer dress had been frantically hiked up in bunches around my waist, revealing thigh-high stockings, creamy legs and a silk-clad butt I had worked into bubbly perfection at the gym. Jason certainly seemed to like it, at least.
"Ugh, f- honey," I seethed through gritted teeth, trying to keep my voice level, even as my son heaved me back and forth along the table's oak surface, buffing me against his manhood like a sex toy. "You think you could maybe... speed this up... just a li'l bit? Your dad is going to be home soon!"
"T-trying," Jason panted in response and renewed his virile efforts to set my butt on fire via horny friction. It must have been a frustrating day for him or something. He was giving it to me like an animal. Like a mongrel mounting his bitch!
"I'd cum faster if you let me lose my boxers!" He said.
"Absolutely... not," I groaned. My words were stilted as I gouged my fingernails into the tabletop for some purchase.
"Oh, come on," he whined. "You could keep your panties on!"
Ha! By then, the silky red material of my panties had been totally swallowed between my cushiony ass cheeks. It was almost as if I weren't wearing them at all!
"You know the rule," I shot back, trying to adopt a motherly tone of finality -- and failing miserably.
Our 'rule' was simple: when we were alone, and he needed a little friction, I didn't mind 'helping him out' every now and then. That was fine, I rationalized, so long as there wasn't any genital-to-skin contact. Because that would totally be full-blown incest -- whereas a bit of dry-humping was just a loving mother helping out her son, right?
"Fine," Jason grunted his dubious assent and ripped me from my reverie by urgently surging forward and grinding his needy bulge into my ass. I felt it dig into me with every pass, a pulsing mass of flesh straining against the coarse grit of its cotton prison.
His hands came to grasp at my shoulders for leverage. Fuck. He had strong hands -- not rough, but not exactly gentle either. Insistent was the word. He was very much a man taking what he needed. He was using me, and I was letting him. Actually, it was worse than that. I was encouraging him!
"Good boy," I purred; it was surprising to hear my tone laced with more 'sultry MILF' energy than I had intended. "Just relax... close your eyes... and focus on... finishing. How about that?"
I stirred my thicc rump in little circles against his cock to punctuate the suggestion. And, y'know, also to speed the entire process along. It had nothing to do with the fact that his hot man meat felt fucking amazing, nestled between my mommy-thick ass cheeks. No way.
Who the fuck are you fooling, Mary?! My motherly instincts demanded. They had lived in a constant state of shameful disbelief at my handling of the entire situation since it began. I mostly tried to avoid confronting that part of myself whenever I let Jason use me like this. The self-loathing could come later, when I was all alone. At least, I thought it could.
You're such a fucking slut! I told myself as Jason continued to set a furious pace. You like the way his cock feels, throbbing against your ass, don't you? At night, when you rub your slutty cunt, you imagine what it might look like, how it would feel inside you, and even what it would taste like in your mouth.
I would have given anything to be able to honestly deny it all. But frankly, I guess I really must have been a terrible mother because my panties were fucking flooded. And all I could do was pray Jason wouldn't notice before he had finished with me.
I chanced a quick glance over my shoulder to look at him. My baby boy -- a big strong man. All grown up. He looked like an adorable, nerdy, 19-year-old version of his father -- square-framed glasses, a strong jawline, intensely-blue eyes and dirty-blonde hair that fell shaggily over his face. Thankfully, he was in a world of his own. And going by the semi-vacant look on his face, it was a blessedly simple world of euphoria. His head tipped back. His mouth hung open. His eyes pinched shut. He was giving it to his mommy good. He wanted this.
"M-mom?" He moaned desperately. "I'm -- so fuckin' close..."
"C'mon, baby," I mewled thoughtlessly in response and drove myself back to meet his frantic cadence. "Cum all over mommy's panties!" All the while, I was rhythmically swirling my ass into his cock and insistently meeting his uncoordinated thrusts.
"Give it to me!" I wailed. That did it! Jason gave a throaty growl, clumsily surged forwards and collapsed on top of me. His weight felt immense on my tiny frame. He squished me against the table, buried his face in my golden locks and let go. Even through his boxers, I could feel him pulsing powerfully. He growled like a bear when he came; no mother should know that about her own son.
"Oh f-fuck, fuck... fuck," he whispered as the last warm embers of his orgasm washed over him. And I just lay there and took it.
Silence followed. Jason's choppy breath was hot and wet against my neck. My own breath was ragged and shallow, as well; I could feel sweat evaporating on my face. I felt dirty. I felt ashamed. Still, my pussy ached for some attention.
After another minute or two, I spoke up. "Let me up, baby," I said, reassuming my motherly mask, crooked as it now felt to wear. "I have to check on the meatloaf."
Jason clumsily withdrew. Then, he tenderly finger-combed my dishevelled hair back into some semblance of order, delicately flipped my dress back down, and promptly retreated upstairs to clean himself up. Before he vanished from earshot, I heard him say, "Thanks, Mom!"
When Ron came home, we ate together as a family. Sat around the same kitchen table Jason had bent me over not even an hour earlier. Ron didn't seem to notice or care that I was uncharacteristically quiet. That was typical of him lately. He and Jason happily discussed sports, work, and university. Meanwhile, I pushed meatloaf around my plate and wondered when Jason might need me to 'help out' again. I already knew I would.
Sitting idle, I lazily pondered the notion of having reserved a spot in hell for myself. If such a place existed, it was undoubtedly my ultimate destination, right? And when I arrived down there to sizzle away eternity, this story is what I would tell Adolf Hitler when he asked me, "So, Mary, vhat are you down here for?"
That night, when we were in bed, I begged Ron to fuck me. It had been so long, I whined. Weeks. Months, even!
He gave me all the usual excuses endemic to a dead bedroom: he was too tired. He had a long week. He wasn't in the mood, etc. But I coaxed him to life by slipping under the covers and putting my once-talented mouth to work.
I pressed my pretty face into his manhood and lapped at his ball sack with my warm, soft tongue. I knew how much he enjoyed that. I suckled on the wrinkly flesh, deftly moving between his sweaty testicles until they were shiny from my spit.
When I took his cock into my hand and stroked it into a familiar six inches, it throbbed in my palm. Having achieved my goal, I surfaced from beneath the covers and insisted that he mount me from behind, like a mongrel breeding his bitch in heat. I used those exact words. The look on my husband's face was priceless; that was probably the last thing he had expected me to say. He couldn't believe his luck! Nevertheless, he obliged.
He seized a clump of my hair and wound it around his palm like a length of blonde rope. Using these makeshift reins for leverage, he shoved my face into the mattress and gave it to me. I let him use me -- the same way I allowed our own son to use me: hard. I literally screamed as he reamed my tight, slick, grippy, drippy cunt.
"Yeah," I yelped encouragingly over the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. "Fuck my whore cunt, baby... p-put my fucking pussy to work!"
The whole time, I had my eyes shut tight. And God help me because I was thinking about Jason. Thinking about him taking me with all the energy of a younger man with a far more impressive cock.
"Breed me!" I mewled, surprising myself with how pathetic and desperate I sounded. "Breed me... bree-" My words disintegrated into a strangled sob as the orgasm building inside me finally erupted. I blubbered incoherently as pleasure tore through my body, radiating like warm electricity from my stretched pussy outwards.
I trembled, tensed and clamped down around Ron's cock like a vice. And before I knew it, he was cumming, too! He sprayed his load as deep as he could, pumping out one thick rope after another before collapsing to one side, exhausted.
"Where did that come from?" he asked after his sense returned.
"I've been needing that all day," I responded casually. "Hold me?"
He did. He wrapped an arm around me, sealing our sweaty bodies together, blanketing me in warmth and guilt. And as I drifted away to sleep, I wondered if Jason had heard any of that -- and if he was stroking his big cock just one room over? Somehow, a small part of me hoped that wasn't the case -- not without me being there to help him.
So, if anyone has anything to say to Hitler, just let me know. I might pass on the message for you sometime.
Ron, my husband, had gone out of town for the weekend on business. And Jason - our son - was back home for the first time since he flew the nest for university. At first, it felt incredible to have my little guy back around the house; I missed having him more than I realized. But I was about to discover something else: he wasn't so little anymore. He was a man--with a man's needs.
The first incident occurred the Saturday night he came home. It involved snuggling under blankets and drinking too much box wine. It featured a needy son and his doting mommy who didn't know when to say no. It ended with a satisfied son and a sticky mommy in an even stickier situation. Now, my new normal involves helping my 19-year-old son get off!
Ten Minutes
"Can't it wait until I get home?!" I asked, trying to look at anything besides my son's imposing little problem.
"Please, Mom," Jason whined. "I gotta cum so bad it hurts!" He stood in the bathroom threshold, clutching the blatant outline of a raging erection through his sweatpants.
Damn it. I always caved when my baby boy adopted that needy, helpless tone. And the little shitehawk knew it. "Oh, for Christ... alright, alright. Don't whine!" I snapped, beckoning him into the room. "Jesus, you're worse than your father when he was your age, you know that?"
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, wincing at the perverse absurdity of that sentence. How had everything become so messy in one short week?
Gee, Mary, I don't know. You think it might have anything to do with the fact you're a hell-bound whore? I viciously strangled the self-critical voice inside my head, resolving to contend with that mother of all bitches some other time--over a bottle of wine or three. At that moment, I just wanted to focus on the task at hand. My son - and his throbbing cock - needed me, damn it!
"But you listen here, Mister," I said, suddenly adopting a stern, motherly tone. I rounded on Jason, pointing a dainty finger at him while glaring imperiously. I may only have been five-foot-nothing - making my son a good foot taller than me - but I could still lay down the law when I had to. "You better make this quick, and when you, uhm... finish... you don't get any of it on me."
"Sure, Mom, you got it," Jason murmured. He was already fumbling with his waistband, paying me no mind.
"I'm serious, Jason, not a drop! I've got a dinner reservation with your dad in..." I glanced at my rose-gold wristwatch, an early anniversary gift from Ron--Jason's father. The sight of it made me feel a little queasy with guilt. "...oh shit. Thirty minutes! You better make this really fast. He's waiting outside in the car!" Oh fuck, this is a bad idea, I thought, already regretting having caved so easily. I briefly considered calling the whole thing off; that would have been cruel, wouldn't it?
"I'll try to be quick..." Jason said, sounding uncertain. "Sometimes it takes a while. You know that."
"Well, not tonight!" I shot back, glancing at my watch again. "If you haven't finished in... Ten minutes... I'll leave you high and dry. Have I made myself clear?"
"Okay, okay!" Jason stammered as he clumsily shoved his sweatpants down and unceremoniously kicked them away from his feet.
"Fuuuuck," I hummed. My eyes instinctively fell on the enormous bulge pitching my son's boxer shorts like a tent. I immediately lost my train of thought. "You are hard, aren't you?" That bitch-breaking monster between Jason's legs was pulsing for relief--actually fucking pulsing; I could see it, even through his boxer shorts! I caught myself subconsciously licking my plump, cherry-red lips at the sight of it.
I had actually never seen my son's manhood--I only felt it pressing against me through his underwear whenever he borrowed some friction from mommy. Even that fringe contact left a very special impression on the mind and body. If he weren't a socially anxious wreck, he would have had his pick from all the sizequeen sluts on his campus. And then, maybe I would never have gotten myself caught up in the mess of all messes?
The thought of Jason with somebody else - some fitter, younger woman - caused a sensation to spear through my chest that felt unsettlingly close to jealousy. I banished it with a shake of my head. And seeing as I was caught in the mess anyway... I moved discretely toward Jason, stretched out a dainty hand, and palmed his package.
"M-mom?" he stammered in response, looking utterly shocked. I had never actually touched him like that before. It was new territory we were exploring together.
"Shhh," I whispered, looking up at him, trying to appear more self-assured than I felt. "Let Mommy help you."
He did.
His package felt enormous compared to... well, just about any cock I had ever handled personally. It was also hot to the touch! Not warm, mind you. Hot. I gave it a little squeeze. It lurched in response, and Jason moaned--a desperate little noise caught between pleasure and aching pain. Fuck. My poor baby boy must have really been hurting for it.
What the hell are you doing, Mary?! The critical bitch inside my head represented the last ounce of credibility I had left as a mother. Once again, through an effort of perverted will, I violently choked her into silence. After all, touching Jason through his underwear didn't break our cock-to-skin contact rule, right? I glanced up at my son through half-lidded eyes. He certainly didn't seem to think so.
Then again, the wildly lustful twinkle in his eyes gave me the impression that he wouldn't have objected if I plunged to my knees and sucked him off right then and there. The boy wanted relief. Desperately. He didn't care how he got it. It was equal parts cute and unnerving.
"F-fuck, Mom," Jason sighed through choppy breaths.
"Watch your language," I said sternly. "I'm still your mother!"
Jason gawped at me, incredulous. Here was his mom, feeling him up as she admonished him for swearing. It must have been quite surreal for him.
"Do as I say... not as I do," I added, blushing a little at the absurd dissonance of the whole situation. I gave Jason's package another squeeze--a knowing smirk playing on my lips as I massaged my thumb over the outline of his cock head. He groaned in response, pulsating at the tender touch. "That feels good?" I asked, repeating the motion.
Jason nodded emphatically. I smiled. No matter what, it always felt good to bring my baby boy pleasure.
After a few more well-practised manoeuvres, my hand retreated. A dark patch of precum seeped through the grey material of Jason's underwear. I touched my fingertips together and looked at the sticky discharge webbing between them. Great. "Go lock the door, honey, just in case your dad gets impatient and comes looking for me," I commanded. "And be quick about it!"
"Right," Jason stammered, sounding a little bewildered. He moved to close the door, then hastily locked it.
When Jason turned back to face me, I greeted him with the sight of his mommy bent over the sink with her clingy black dress hiked up around her hips--exposing my lacey panties for him, as well as thigh-high stockings, thick and creamy thighs, not to mention a nice round ass.
I glanced over my shoulder and wriggled from side to side, shaking my juicy rear for him. Then, I gave it a nice hard smack, probably imparting an attractive red handprint. "C'mon," I urged, spanking the other panty-clad cheek, making it jiggle invitingly. "Seven and a half minutes. Let's get a move on."
I didn't have to tell him twice. Jason descended on me like a ravenous animal. In two strides, he was on me. He grasped my hips with two powerful hands and clumsily crashed his not-inconsiderable weight against me. Fuck. He could be such a brute sometimes! I had to brace myself against the sink, emitting a little 'oomph' noise as I did so.
He didn't waste any time setting a pace that was even more urgent than usual, and that was saying something. He scraped his bulge against me, hot-dogging it between my ass cheeks--desperately rasping the cotton of his boxers against the green silk of my panties. Jesus, I had a horny son... A sentence that no mother should every so much as think about.
"Yeah," I purred, knowing how much Jason enjoyed it when I encouraged him verbally. "There you go, baby." I gyrated my hips, stirring my pleasantly-plump rear against his cock. He moaned and squeezed my hips with vice-like strength.
"D-don't stop," he grunted.
I didn't. "Give it to me," I mewled like a harlot, feeling my face heat up. "Give it to Mommy. Make her take it. Give it to her hard."
Oh boy, did he give it to me. The next thing I knew, Jason was sweeping a confident hand up my back and caressing it over the velvety material of my black dress. It actually felt really nice--until he abruptly snatched a palmful of my blonde, wavy locks and brutally snapped my neck backwards.
"Honey!" I seethed, my blue eyes widening in shock and irritation as a sharp pain lanced through my scalp. He must have taken my dirty talk to heart. "You're... f-fuck... you're messing up my hair."
"Take it, Mom," Jason growled dismissively.
I had never known his voice to sound so deep and husky. I had also never known him to be so rough! But I didn't tell him to stop, and the little shit didn't. So, I took it. He wound my hair around his hand, using it to arch my spine and subjugate me to his furious tempo. He gave it to me hard, driving and grinding his needy bulge into my ass. I felt my silver crucifix necklace - another gift from Ron - bouncing against my cleavage as he used me.
The worst - or perhaps best - thing about this new position was the mirror hanging directly above the sink. It gave me a clear view of the sinful circumstances quickly spiralling out of my control. I gazed into my blue eyes and saw my own mortification and lust reflected back at me. For a 45-year-old woman, I looked damn good in my date-night get-up. I also made an effort with my makeup; black liner, smoky eye shadow and red lipstick went a long way.
Behind me, Jason stood tall, a pillar of unrefined, youthful masculinity--he had this wild look in his bright eyes, shimmering behind his glasses. I hardly recognized him, and a small part of me couldn't help but wonder if I had created an itty-bitty monster.
I tried to avert my gaze, but Jason drew me taut like a bow, all but forcing me to watch as my own son used me. The sight made me feel the most intense sense of shame--and that sense only compounded as my panties began to flood with tingly arousal.
After a short while, I contorted my arm and strained my eyes to glance at my watch. Shit. We were running out of time. I would have to help my itty-bitty monster speed things along.
"Two... minutes, baby," I said, the words becoming stilted as Jason heaved me back and forth by my makeshift leash of blonde locks.
"I know, I know," he groaned, pinching his eyes shut. "I'm... trying."
At that moment, I made a hasty decision that I knew I would most likely come to regret practically immediately. Time was ticking. The situation called for more drastic measures--or a darn good therapist. In the absence of the latter, I opted for the former and did what I felt I had to do.
"Stop," I said, my voice choppy. "Baby, s-stop... just for a second." I twisted against Jason's emphatic grasp and managed to turn around. He continued to thrust away against my thick thighs; his blue eyes were full of frustration and confusion. I brought my hands to his chest and pressed him softly away. He acquiesced - albeit reluctantly - by taking a small step back and letting go of my hair.
"Mom, please! Five more minutes! I'll be quick, I'll--" Jason whined. But this frantic litany dissolved into stunned silence as he watched me slip my green panties down shapely legs. I took a dainty step out of them, briefly flashing him my neatly trimmed blondie bush and glistening cunt before straightening the black dress down my thighs.
"Take it out," I said, my voice was thready and small.
"Huh?!" Jason's eyes bulged.
I sunk down in front of him and felt the cold kiss of porcelain tiles against my knees.
"Take it out," I repeated, willing a maternal edge into my tone.
"B-but, Mom," Jason sputtered, gazing down at me, "the--what about the rule!"
"I'm not going to break the rule," I said determinedly. At the same time, I took my green lace panties and wrapped them around my hand--lord help me, they were damp with my own arousal. Using my panties to jerk Jason off would not break our rule. No, it would only violate its spirit. "Now," I said, taking a deep breath and willing my voice to sound confident and motherly. I arched a brow up at him. "Take. It. out."
Jason seemed hesitant, but he didn't argue. He reached down, hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and a second later, they were around his ankles.
Oh, sweet Jesus. I was right about his cock. It was fucking magnificent! Enough even to make pornstars feel a little inadequate. Eight inches, at least--and almost as thick as a soda can. The angry-red head already wept precum from its slit, and a network of colourful veins pulsed along its length. I wondered what it might feel like, pushing into my cunt--rearranging my insides. Oh, God. Oh, Christ. Jesus, fuck, help me. I wanted it. I wanted my son's cock!
I cleared my throat. "Ahem, g-good," I croaked, squeezing my thick thighs together.
"Yeah?" Jason asked, sounding more than a little anxious. I was probably the first person to have seen the damn thing.
"Oh, yeah... you've--it's grown since I last saw it... you--" I winced, cringing at my choice of words before I even completed the whole sentence, "--have a really... nice... erm... penis."
"Th-thanks, Mom." Jason beamed proudly.
"Mhm." I looked up at him through thick lashes. "Can... I touch it?" It was probably best to ask for permission, even though his response was a forgone conclusion.
Jason eagerly nodded his consent.
"Okay," I said, sucking down a shaky breath and nodding.
Heart racing, I reached out my panty-gloved hand and took Jason's girth into a silky grip. My fingers - barely - wrapped all the way around his girth. I squeezed gently, and his hot cock lurched in response.
Jason made a vulnerable little moaning sound.
"Is this okay, baby?" I asked, looking up at him. "Does it feel okay?"
He nodded emphatically, barely managing a weak little, "Yeah... it feels... good."
"Good," I said, managing a small smile. "Okay."
No, Mary, this is not okay. Actually, this is about as far away as a mother can conceivably get from 'okay'. It was too late to back out. So, I throttled my doubts--and at the same time, I gripped Jason's manhood all the more firmly, choking up on it.
I mean, what I was doing hardly even qualified as a handjob, per se. Strictly speaking, my panties were making all the physical contact. Right? I began to jerk my grip gently, back and forth, beating out a smooth and steady rhythm. Every now and then, I would roll my palm over the dome of his tip and rub at his frenulum through the silk. He seemed to like that.
"Don't get used to this, mister," I said, looking up at my son. "Y'hear me?" Then, I sat up on my knees - so that I was eye-level with his manhood - pursed my lips into a tight pout, and I began to blow, letting my breath break in hot and cold waves against his glistening tip.
"Okaaaay," he chirped uncomprehendingly, looking down at me with glossed-over eyes. He was too blissed out to focus on anything besides my hand slipping and sliding the soft material of my panties firmly up and down his cock.
"Good boy," I purred, giving his length some twisty-wristy action as I jerked. "C'mon," I added, my voice thickened by something sultry and maternal in equal measure. I pursed my lips, blowing another shock of breath over him. "You know what mommy wants."
Jason tipped his head back and groaned.
"Cum for mommy... mommy wants it," I purred, feeling a wicked grin possess my pretty features. "Cum in mommy's panties!"
"Mom," Jason growled urgently. "I--I'm--mom, don't stop... I'm--" He began to hump himself into my grasp, prompting me to tighten my grip even more and pick up the pace into a furious cadence that made my arm sore.
"Cum," I snarled, my voice knotted by something alien and fierce.
A moment later, Jason was working through a breathless litany of curse words, sounding half-possessed as he pulsed irregularly in my hand. I didn't stop pumping until I caught every last drop of my son's seed in my panties.
There we were, me and Jason--stewing in the aftermath of what we had just done. He staggered backwards and sat on the toilet lid, breathing hard. "Fuck," he grunted.
"Language," I shot back, throwing my cum-soaked panties at him.
"S-sorry," he muttered, catching the make-do cum rag.
"Clean up," I said. Before the guilt began to bleed in, I felt a perverse jolt--on some level, providing my son with a pair of my panties excited me. I wondered if he would keep them? A little 'first handjob' trophy, perhaps?
"That was... amazing, Mom," he said, still breathless.
"Mhm." I stood up. It was difficult to avoid my own gaze as I gave myself a once-over in the mirror. My hair was a damn mess, but the rest was still passable. I washed my hands in silence and began to fix my hair as Jason gathered himself.
"Mary?" Ron's voice froze me to the spot. He rapped on the locked door, then tried the handle.
For one dreadful moment, I thought my awful secret was about to be uncovered then and there.
"Geez Louise, what's taking so long? The Garland isn't a twenty-four-seven restaurant, honey," Ron quipped.
I breathed a sigh of relief and whipped around, glaring a stern but silent warning at my son. Jason looked like a deer caught in the headlights. I brought a finger to my lips. He nodded his head.
"Honey?" Ron asked, a hint of concern settling into his muffled tone.
"Mhm! One second, love," I cooed.
"Why is the door locked?"
"Oh," I muttered. "I'm--just... reliving myself."
"Oh," Ron said, using that tone which implied he wished to hear no more.
I gave him some more anyway, hoping it would scare him off. "Yeah, I've been holding it all day and--"
"I get it, honey. You don't want to eat on a full tank." Ron stated flatly. "I'll... I'll be waiting in the car. Five minutes, okay?"
"Mhm!"
Ron's footsteps recessed down the hall. Only then did I breathe easy. That was a close call. The closest yet.
After a moment, I rounded on Jason, leaned down to kiss him brusquely on the head, and said, "We'll talk about this tomorrow. Leftovers are in the fridge."
I left Jason there, probably with all kinds of questions swirling around in his head. Instead of helping him through it like a good mother(ha!), I went to a 'romantic' anniversary dinner with his father. It would have been nice, but I was entirely preoccupied. It felt wrong to put on an attentive little show for Ron's sake, but I did. I tittered at his jokes and nodded along to his stories.
The whole time, I was sipping on wine and thinking about Jason. Thinking about what I had done--thinking about how I might go about shoving the handjob genie back into its bottle. Nothing like that can ever happen again, I told myself. I would tell Jason the same thing tomorrow morning, I decided.
After dinner, I had Ron drive us to our old date spot when we were going through college together all those years ago--a discrete little lay-by that overlooked the glowing city. There, I sucked his cock better than I ever had before. And I even let him fuck me on the backseats. We went at it like horny college punks all over again. Twice. Though, to my mild horror and undeniable arousal, I did find myself distinctly wishing Ron's cock looked and felt a bit more like his son's.