Mother's Boys

That evening, the older boys had been very quickly adjusted. Due to bringing nearly nothing besides for comic books, the third-hand Chevrolet that would probably sink to Hell any day now, and two trash bags of clothes they'd been hiding from their money-hungry father, they were pretty satisfied with their new small space that consisted of two beds, a 15 inch 90's television set, and a fine elm dresser below the tele and an alarm clock that would awake them for breakfast and chores that Tina stated would pay them respect.

Now, as the sun was ready to set for the night, they were all at the dining table. Brady hurriedly ate, being exhausted after a long day of servitude and tending to his brothers, however politely and gracefully. Brenden enjoyed the lovely family time packed into a meal of fresh rye bread, parmesan angel hair noodles with turkey, and roasted red potatoes: much, much different from pieces of overcooked frozen pizza that were left over from their snoring father and then eventually nothing as time went. Cody loved the meal possibly too much and was very ready to eat, but, on the contrary, there more important things. He had no explanation for this, it was so sudden, it was so weird.

Cody glanced down at his supper plate before letting his eyes drift up towards his mother, and her astounding breasts which happened to peer out from her blouse top just subtly enough to run a tingle through his cock. He looked up into her lavishing, shimmering eyes and her thick yet so soft, irresistible scarlet lips once he noticed her looking his way. Her sensual smile, and all the imaginable possibilities that arose from her raised brow, made his cock stiffer than metal.

Supper at the large house couldn't have been any tastier, prepared by Tina, strictly homemade until the last minute, because Mother knew best in the world and her boys should never be allowed to experience anything else since it would be anything less.

Brenden had felt welcome. Cody had especially felt wonderful in odd, odd ways, and it couldn't have been nicer. It was warm and fuzzy; maybe hot, for a better word.

Adjacent to Cody was Brady, also getting a glimpse of Tina's breasts; though, he had no need to be discreet, as she was fully aware of his pulsing cock, sweaty palms, and his urge to suck her nipples dry. After all, she was engorged and ready for the nightly routine that consisted of his milk worship and her nipple-conducted orgasms - if the boy had behaved well for her during the day. Brady was sure he could see the milk stains of her bra cups through her causal but thin shirt, and man, it did not help him sustain the massive desire that came in a form of a rock-hard erection trying to break free from his underwear. His foreskin exposed his highly sensitive, wet head to the hot friction as it bulged too intensely for his cotton briefs to handle, and only if the briefs could be her warm, slippery, clenching entrance that's horny to the point of almost sucking his cock in like a vacuum after all the nipple play.

Brenden was oblivious, simply focusing on his meal. He was either sexually repressed around Tina, like the average man around the mother, or slightly more mature and able to recognize supper as the biggest priority after the stressful previous days let alone years.

Tina was inquiring how the food turned out when she stood and went to Brady. She teased him lightly by subtly pointing a finger to the empty glass that sat near his dinner plate, "Brady, don't you want some milk, sweetheart?"

Brady trembled, palming the huge protrusion of his pants between his hips, praying. "Oh, yes; yes, Mother."

Brenden's voice murmured in a shy tone as he ran his tongue along his lips that were lined with cow's milk, "Mom, could I also have some more milk while you're at it?"

Within seconds of standing, Tina had been at Brenden's side with a milk pitcher. "Do you deserve this milk?" Her tone was very firm and disdainful. "How could you ask me to go out of my way, for a little boy like you - when you've shown no sign of worship and appreciation of your mother?" She swiftly flicked her free wrist to the side of his disappointed face. "Stop slouching so much." She smacked him again where his face was already reddening.

Now, after swallowing a bit of bread, Brady paused at an abrupt but tender touch. He was paralyzed with goose bumps as he slowly turned his eyes to find his mother's thinly clothed breast being pressed against his flustered cheek. She was towered over him at the side of his chair, kindly looking down at both his gaping eyes and his bulging erection which only seemed to stretch longer and stiffer. He felt the tingles from his aching cock begin to race throughout his whole body as he craved the feel of her large, puffy, naked breasts against his palm. Either an illusion, or he could sense a big nipple perking up beneath the pad of her bra and unusually thin sweater, hard enough to split the diamonds that ran along the tiny chain of her thigh high boots. What had been resting behind only a layer or two, five inches above the top of the boots had been another story. His cock pestered him and reminded him just how much he longed to finger the stiff buds, and how badly he desired to suck them dry of their luscious milk until she was brought to orgasm as many times as she insisted. The "story" directly above the thin-chained leather boots was pretty damn great one, a moist one, a tight one, that his precum-drowned cock was past ready to read. However, he'd been forcing - even straining - for inches of patience and self control because he was fully aware and utterly respectful of her rules, which included that he must behave and receive her permission in order to perversely place even a fingertip on her fragile body and he must show obedience through awaiting his mother's encouragement.

She pressed her breast further into his rosy, steam hot cheek in a seemingly indifferent way as she leaned past him to retrieve his glass. With a suggestive and firm grip to the glass, and while humming in a dryly provocative way that was too similar to moaning, she slowly tipped the pitcher and allowed milk to dribble into the glass.

Cody grimaced, horny with envy. Perhaps too envious to tolerate. From his spot at the table, he was able to catch a glance at the cleavage slightly pouring from his mother's low sweater. Imagine his brother's face being his instead. Imagine squeezing her breasts, bouncing them, massaging with warm oil. Or taking the nipples and sucking, pinching them with his teeth or between his tongue and the warm roof of his mouth, and practically tasting the excited tissue grow rapidly as she gasped. It was difficult to admit to himself that he enjoyed it, being a strange and sick nature, but it was becoming impossible to think about how wrong it had been when his erection was ready to rip his pants and all he wanted to do was choke it with the opening of his foreskin stretching tenderly over his cock with each jerk. Or, rather, allow his mother to choke it. He'd been a good boy, he'd deserved it. His bottom lip flicked forward as he filled the dining hall with, "Fuck..."

Their mother, emerging from his side and towards Cody, was not pleased.

Their mother had a glare in her deep brown eyes as her foot hit the floor, the steel hard heels nearly chipping at the polished oak floor and her breasts trembling so slightly through the open lacy top under her sweater. The two desperate, drooling boys swore they got a slip of pink through the lace's slits. The nipple. Her voice was stunningly quiet, as collected as it was firm, when she demanded, "Cody: my bedroom, this instant. Brady: stand, hurry to retrieve my Jergen's bar, then return to finish your meal before washing the dishes. And get whiny Brenden some damn milk."

Brady took the clammy hand away from his bulging, pulsing groin and placed it behind his back with the other one, which had immediately placed his fork to the table. He rose to his feet and ran the sexual smirk from his face as a sign of integrity and respect. "Yes, Mother. Anything else, Mistress?"

She placed the tip of her perfected crimson nails against her soft lips, a bit darker in color, to think.

"Anything, ma'am, I'll get it."

"Get the paddle from the laundry room, the engraved one, Mother's favorite. Your brother's behavior towards me is too unacceptable."