Generosity Is Its Own Reward

"...and do you like that Jason?"

"Yes, Mrs. Francis. Very much."

"I'm glad, Jason. Now, just lay back and let me do all the work."

"Yes Mrs. Francis."

He's such a polite boy. Always has been. Perhaps that's why I decided, when I had decided,

Him

.

You see, I'm relatively new to all this. Not pleasuring a man with my mouth, no, I've been doing that for two-plus decades now, although at first it was more obligatory, and not very pleasant, but that's the way things are sometimes when we're younger: we tend to make snap judgments based on our limited experiences of the world, and it's not until we become more secure in who we are as people simultaneous with discovering what receiving and giving real pleasure is all about, that our perspective tends to shift as we take in more and more of the buffet life offers us -

But here I go getting distracted again.

I most assuredly intend to remember this moment - as I do all my moments with Jason.

I grip Jason's beautiful cock at the base, his soft blonde curls flowing up between my fingers and over my thumb onto the back of my hand. With the skin pulled tight down towards his scrotum, the shaft curves ever-so-slightly to the left - my right - veins trailing across it like trade routes across an ancient desert plain.

Trade routes across an ancient desert plain

, for some reason that phrase excites me - tents, a moonlit oasis, quivering tapestries, camels grunting in the distance as a lover drizzles patchouli mixed with vanilla over a beloved's body, kneading the flesh into aroused submission - as I purse my lips and run them up one of the veins, tracing it, kissing it, flicking my tongue over and around it until it disappears into the crown, Jason straining his hips towards the ceiling in a subtle yet patently obvious attempt to seduce himself into my mouth either by accident or by what he's imaging his irresistible charms. I smile as I kiss the side of the crown and trail my wet lips back down the shaft into the moss surrounding it, planting several kisses on the hidden flesh there.

This is not a first for Jason and I. And it most certainly will not be the last - for now, in this singular moment, it is Jason and I.

Well, in this moment, yes, there is Jason and I, and after this moment there will be my husband and I. Which is as it should be.

I make an "O" with my mouth and slowly lower it over the crown of Jason's penis then slowly lock my lips around the rim and slowly increasing my sucking pressure I slowly run the tip of my tongue around his penis slit, slowly parting it and slowly sucking at the same time. As it is with young people since time began, teaching "slow" takes...time.

Jason convulses in the bed and with a little more pressure he convulses again, and lowering my lips down the shaft I perform the ancient straw-suck technique -

...ancient trade routes...

- and bring up my right hand and cupping both his testicles I push them up from the bottom towards the shaft and Jason raises his shoulders off the bed - "Yes-yes-yes!" he whispers, the muscles in his lower abdomen contracting into one solid mound - and releasing the pressure on the shaft, I dab his penis slit once, then raise my mouth off him and pull back and stare him in the eyes.

"Not yet, love," I say while running the tips of my left middle and index fingers over his waist then up towards his navel, then around the crown of his penis, then down the side of the shaft, his penis twitching just-on-the-edge of orgasming. He clenches his ass cheeks repeatedly, his shoulders raising off the mattress some and jerking lightly in time with his air-humping.

"Yes, Mrs. Francis," he says, eyes closed.

"Good boy," I reply, then offer a few kisses on the inside of his left thigh where it meets his torso.

I've known Jason since high school, a classmate of our middle son. How could anyone not know him? I've adored him since then, the way an older person can beneficently imagine the lifetime of adventures awaiting a someone like Jason. No, he wasn't the Adonis-in-Training, flaxen-haired man-child captain of this and this and this sports team and the wet dream of many of his peers, girls and boys. No. He was not that kind of Jason. This Jason was an Average Jason, tallish and medium build for his age, competent at sports but no star, straight-A's - salutatorian, not valedictorian, that honor went to a female flaxen-haired Aphrodite-in-Training - and probably, perhaps, the wet dream of two or three of his classmates - but of a considerable number of adults, women and men, definitely. What made Jason stand out was his eyes - slightly tragic, quiet, old soul eyes. Eyes, you knew, and as a woman you

know

these things, eyes that will forever be yours, eyes you want swim in forever. Eyes that matched the personality of just who Jason was, who Jason is - the kind of boy who is kind, the kind of boy who volunteers once a week at one of the emergency family shelters in town reading to the smaller children, the kind of boy who is oblivious to the fact that all eyes are on him and it is that innocence, that kind of genuineness and confidence that completely draws you in and yet because it asks nothing of you, holds you and never lets you go.

That is my Jason.

So from a distance, many of us we watched Jason grow, then leave us. He traveled East to a prestigious university, spent the summer after his first year volunteering with an NGO in Africa, then after his sophomore year at a prestigious west coast university interning in a pediatric nanotech laboratory, and now this summer working from home bound to a group of trans-continental classmates debugging and coding the software for a brain scan technology one of his professors is developing with an international niche biotech firm.

This is my Jason.

And let's not pretend - we all have a My Jason, ALL of us, the only difference being a name - Samuel, Damian, Arun - Willow, Jasmeene, Catherine...

I run my tongue up the flare of skin between his testicles while rubbing his penis over my forehead. When my licking reaches the shaft, I kiss up the underside all the way to the crown, his penis tracing a thin line of pre-cum over the corner of my right eye socket and down the side and over the tip of my nose. My tongue points out and when it passes up over the slit, I swab the remainder of the pre-cum away. Once again, I close my mouth around the rim of the head and swallow a mouthful of saliva and pre-cum, the taste sweet, and the pressure of my throat contracting causes Jason's entire body to twitch. I close my eyes and smile. I won't delay him today as I usually do. His second orgasm, though, will be scrupulously earned.

I shift my weight forward, I'm on my knees bent towards Jason, my knees just inside his. While Jason is without clothing, I'm naked from the waist down and wearing a simple cotton blouse, unbuttoned, and a very wispy transparent bra with colorful embroidered flowers on it - a lingerie extravagance that I don't usually go for but my husband was in a playful mood and it made for a delightful forty-fifth birthday gift in this very bed a few years back.

Now, the tops of my legs, hips, and stomach are pressed against the mattress and reaching my hands under Jason's thighs, I pull myself closer towards him, draping his legs against my shoulders. His penis is inches from my face. With the tip of my left index finger, I trace a vein as it zig-zags over the surface, watching his testicles rise, then fall...rise...then fall. This amuses me greatly. I kiss the right side of the head lightly and instinctively Jason spread his legs wider. He's offering himself to me unconditionally, so trusting, he has learned much this summer.

I'm not one of those predatory cougars. I have too much respect for not only myself but for my husband, our marriage, and all that we have created together. Having raised three adorable children, we have tried to live a virtuous, mindful life, contributing - we hope - as much to our community as we have to our generous and kind children. We, my husband and I, enjoy each other's company immensely, we are aligned in so many fundamental and profound ways, and we honor the differences we have, differences that in the grand scheme of things make us as people as well as a couple more accepting.

And in regards to physical intimacy, ours is more...intimate, meaning now that the children are away most of the year, lazy afternoons - sleeping, actually sleeping, in this bed, reading, intermittent intercourse but mostly caressing - hours of holding, touching, moulding clay on a potter's wheel, lifted to the heights of arousal to the very edge, then retreating, satisfaction found when satisfaction is given, fingers, lips, mouths, tongues, it no longer needs to be furious gymnastics, pounding relentlessly often only for the sake of pounding but instead, orgasms as connection, renewal, deliverance.

So yes, there's that, for sure.

"But why a Jason?"

I'm holding Jason's penis at the base, I've lowered my closed fist so it rests against his scrotum, and once again the shaft is curved ever-so-cutely to my right, and he has cupped his right hand around the left side of my head as pulls me closer onto him while I alternate sucking pressure with release...pressure-release, pressure-release, pressure-release...He's tightening his hips more forcefully up towards me now and placating him, I bob my head up and down, up and down on his shaft, letting him think he's directing everything, that this is pleasure he deserves, I allow him these moments, letting him fall into expressing what he wants, letting him communicate to another what it is that he not only likes but more importantly what he desires, which is the threshold of losing control, being vulnerable - expressing a need that only another can not only help identify but quench as well.

And this is why I do this - appreciation. Thanks to another who taught me much one summer years and years ago. An older man of course. Without constructing a complicated collage of circumstances, someone who I grew to first admire, then trust greatly. Someone who knew me in ways I wasn't aware even existed. Someone who gave without taking, someone who could speak to me without speaking, someone who I imagined was thinking about me even more than every minute I thought about him...someone who showed me...No, someone who

taught me

to ask without fear, someone who gave me the gift of being myself. Someone who showed me love, and as such whom I grew to love, someone who in certain small ways I still do love. Some may understand that, some not. All I can be is honest - and perhaps, that too will be too much for many.

And in case you're wondering, No, my husband does not know. And Yes, perhaps in your eyes that makes me a heinous woman. Your ability - and right - to judge is yours and yours alone. But that does not mean I am bound by your damnation. That is a power beyond all our rectitude, and to assume so is hubris. This way is more honest - it is not a sex act. Telling my husband would be bravado on my behalf of the cruelest kind, a torture into which his inadequacies - of which there aren't any, a fact that needs to be justly reiterated - would be thrown back at him again and again, a sisyphean humiliation. His thoughts would forever be

Is she? Who's she with? Where? When? How?

And even if in that there existed arousal, him knowing, me telling - or showing - afterwards, would it not only then be nothing more than performance, playing a game? And who plays games with love, if to win means to cheapen love? I could not live with myself if I was unfaithful to love.

So why, one might ask, why a Jason? For all of these reasons. And other more atypical ones. Not to stave off age. Not to prove a point. Not to make up for lost time and missed opportunities. Not to punish. Not to force an escape. When Desire Meets Knowledge, Gratitude.

Jason shifts on the mattress and I wonder if when he's away from me how often he replays our times in his head. How often he masturbates imagining my mouth - and my sex - enflaming, engulfing, and emptying him. How he balances in his mind sex with a former classmate's mother in her bed in her house. Does that make him cum faster? longer? harder? When he's with someone else - this summer, I know that he "sees this girl" of and on and while I don't spend any time wondering what they do or don't do, I do entertain - usually during an incredibly boring moment chatting with friends during an intermission of an outdoor concert or theatre offering - does he think of our times when he's with her and does that make him cum faster and longer and harder? With my husband, I most certainly do not replay in my mind these moments with Jason - that would cruel, and worse, dismissive. Not knowing as innocence, that is shelter, security, preservation.

I'm sucking sloppily on Jason's penis now purposefully, a little smile on my lips as I do so, running it through my lips and over my face, the edge of my brow, over my cheek and neck and breasts and nipples. Jason bends at the waist up off the mattress while I release one testicle from my mouth and suck in the other, he says with great earnestness "Mrs. Francis I think I'm going to -"

I grip Jason's penis firmly at the base, raise my head off him, and look directly into his eyes, which plead back at me.

"Not now Jason."

"Yes Mrs. Francis," he replies, a needy-frustration-little boy whine whine in his voice, which makes me grin. He releases my head that had been clasped in both his hands and lowers his back down onto the mattress, his legs flat out-straight and rigid. "Thank you."

Yes, so polite

, I think. I'm looking at his penis, inflexible yet trembling, skimmed with saliva and cum that's dribbled down over my fist.

He will make someone a fine husband someday

, and as that thought crosses my mind, I then think:

Perhaps I snapped at him too forcefully?

No. No more distractions. It's time.

I run a hand over Jason's abdomen, my index finger rimming the boundary of his navel. At first he curls up with a squelched giggle, then lowers his head and rocks it from side to side. I move closer to him, a little above him, my back arched down towards him, both hands now jerking his penis. My flingers coated with fluids from both of us, I'm able to stroke him easily, and forcefully, which makes thrust his hips up again towards me. My head motionless, I lock my lips around the head and pump Jason with both hands, his body spasming erratically, and from our time together I know he's extremely close so I drop my right hand from his penis and while still jerking him into my mouth with my left hand, I run a saliva- and cum-covered index finger around the rim of his anus. Jason stops, jerks his whole body upwards, then flops back down onto the mattress. This is something I also know no one else has ever done to him and it's something I always do, each new encounter exploring more and more of him, so much so that if I don't Jason will - again, thinking I'm not aware of what he's really doing - twist his hips in such a way that I can't

not

move a finger there. I'm waiting for the day Jason asks for this - that will be the day he will break through and finally embrace his true self, as I once did, and I will reward him greatly for his bravery.

I'm sucking the slit of his penis, with my tongue and lips alternately collecting his pre-cum in my mouth while also smearing it back around him. He's writhing in the bed now and my right middle finger tracing his anal ring, I slide my thumb and index finger of my left hand inside the corner of my sucking mouth and gently separate the sides of his penis slit. I squirt a little saliva-semen back inside him and he contorts violently. Bent at the waist, his torso tips forward quickly before he collapses back onto the mattress while shooting a thick, warm stream of semen into my mouth. I'm a little taken by surprise - I wasn't expecting that demonstrative of a response - but then again, I had never done that, offer Jason's semen back to him that way - but nonetheless I swallow his abrupt orgasm willingly. I'm sucking and stroking cum from him simultaneous with my finger running a circle inside his anus about the depth of a fingernail and his body twitches, shoots another, then another, then another stream of cum into my mouth.

I slowly pull my head back, making sure I can hold it all, as Jason moves through a series of mini-tremors. I rub his anus one final time then move my finger away, and that hand rises up to grasp his shaft at the base. Holding it out to myself as if an offering and while still sucking the crown, I coax out of a few final quavers from him as his spasms gradually cease. He then brings both his hands up and rests them softly on the sides of my head and this is the time I adore the most - holding Jason in my mouth, his penis immersed in a pool of his own cum, feeling and hearing him breathe at first deeply and irregularly then eventually more slowly and regularly, his penis growing softer in my mouth as I lightly run my cum-covered tongue all over him.

I want to swallow him all now, at once, consume him fully, but instead, I lift my mouth brimming with cum off him, and I lean up and back. Locking my eyes into his again, I bring a hand up to my mouth and calmly yet deliberately part my lips and let Jason's cum s-l-o-w-l-y ooze from my mouth. It's thick and white - the purest of whites - and turning my hand side to side, Jason's semen slides down over each finger, coating them one by one, occasionally as the cum slips from my mouth I suck the stream back only to let it dribble out over my lips again.

Jason eyes me, transfixed, which makes me open my mouth as I let the remainder seep from my mouth into the outstretched palm of my right hand.

Tipping my palm side to side and with eyes still trained into his, I lower my tongue to lap up all the semen there, spreading some over my lips and cheeks, and my mouth full again I ceremoniously swallow it all, closing my eyes to savor the taste. My eyes open as Jason begins to run his fingers softly over my thighs, I can feel his cum-covered shaft twinkling the inside of my left thigh -

ah, youth!

- and quickly and with great exaggeration I suck and clean the remainder of Jason's cum from my fingers until I'm bathing my fingers and palm with my tongue, not satisfied until I can feel nothing but my own saliva coating my skin, and with the index and middle fingers of the other hand, I swab up all the cum that's slippery on my face and swallow that, too, and one day soon I know I will introduce Jason to the pleasure of consuming himself, directly from my mouth, and like the diligent student he is, with caring and proper instruction, I know he'll take to it gloriously.

My hands flat on the outside his hips, I glance down to capture Jason in my eyes. He stares back just as intently. I run my right palm up his left arm, then over his shoulder, then I flip my hand over and trace his jawline with the top side of my hand, then skim my hand over his ear and through his eyebrows. Kissing the palm side of my right-hand fingers, I then place those fingers over his lips. He gazes up at me, silent, both of us joined into this moment, both of us also knowing that this conjunction between the two of us is about to shift. And it does, when he reaches up with both hands and cradles mine in his before he gently, yet consciously places his lips against my palm -

yes, my work has found purchase

- and now, as always, I allow myself to finally fall into the tingle that's been building below.

Without speaking, I roll over Jason's left leg and rest myself beside him in the bed and stare briefly at the ceiling before closing my eyes. Our hips and ankles and knees touching, I reach my right hand out to draw lazy circles over his left hip, until the mattress shifts. In my mind's eye I see Jason pivot up onto his left side. He pushes himself to the left so he can cross over me and very deftly, in one graceful movement, he slips between my legs. It is my turn now to accept him, so I spread my legs wider and sliding his arms under my thighs - and I grin, into the stellar student he has become - he lifts my legs onto his biceps and my legs dangle there as he plants soft kisses up the inside of my thighs.