Copyright 2022 Liza Sharpe. All Rights Reserved.
Author's Note: All characters in this fictional story are over the age of 18, and are products of the author's dirty imagination.
1
Melissa rolled over to glance at the clock on her nightstand. The amber glow read 5:57, three minutes before the alarm was set to go off. Reaching over, she shut off the alarm and slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her husband Richard, who was softly snoring beside her. She stepped into her house slippers and pulled her bathrobe on over her ankle-length white nightgown.
She went into the bathroom, doing the things all humans must, then washed her hands carefully and brushed her hair. Long and sleek, her medium brown hair had auburn highlights that complemented her hazel eyes. She pinched her cheeks to enhance her rosy complexion and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash before she headed to the kitchen.
She efficiently unloaded the dishwasher she'd run just before bed last night. "A place for everything, and everything in its place," she said, one of her mottos for a happy life.
She started a pot of coffee and gathered the items she needed for breakfast. She diced onions, bell peppers and mushrooms, then quickly scrambled a half-dozen eggs, enough for omelets for her husband and their 18-year-old son Tyler. She set the table and stepped back, gazing at it with a critical eye. She adjusted the placement of Richard's coffee mug, checked again, and nodded, satisfied with the result.
Melissa believed in doing her best in every task, no matter how mundane or repetitive. While Richard worked to provide for the family's financial needs, her job, as she saw it, was to ensure her family was well-cared for. Well-prepared, nutritious meals, a clean and tidy house, and a pleasant home environment were all important, as well as ensuring she satisfied Richard's needs as a husband and as a man.
She went outside to retrieve the morning paper; Richard was an old-fashioned kind of guy, and enjoyed having a newspaper to hold while he read at the breakfast table. She set the paper on his chair, pulled out and ready for him. She glanced at the clock and began heating the omelet pan and a second pan to warm the ingredients. She grated cheese and diced some ham, then began cooking.
While she cooked, she mixed some cut fruit for a side dish and poured a glass of orange juice. Tyler would sleep in a bit later; having just finished high school, he was working a mid-shift job to earn spending money before he went off to university.
Richard slipped in quietly behind her at the stove, reached around her waist and pressed himself close to her body as he kissed the side of her neck, his hands straying upward to cup her firm breasts, causing Melissa to coo happily.
"Good morning, beautiful," he murmured. Melissa turned in his arms, her own going around his neck as she pressed her mouth to his, nibbling his lower lip the way he liked so much.
"Good morning, stud."
"Did you sleep well?"
"After everything you did to me last night?' Melissa pulled back, smiling as she gazed at the man she loved. "I slept like the dead, lover."
Richard smiled. "So did I." They kissed again; though they'd been together over 20 years, since their senior year in high school, the couple still acted much like they had as newlyweds. It was a rare night that they went to bed without making love, and they still drove each other wild.
Melissa pulled away to check breakfast; Richard stayed close by, his hands moving over her body.
"Hungry?" she asked, a playful note to her voice.
"Famished, but we don't have time," Richard answered, an old joke between them.
"There's always tonight," she promised as, reaching behind her, she slipped her hand between the opening of his own robe and closed her hand around what she found there. She let a happy groan escape her lips as she patted her husband's bulge. Her husband chuckled as he sat at the table.
Melissa added the ham and vegetables to the omelet, then quickly chopped some fresh herbs and sprinkled them and cheese over the eggs and plated the meal.
Richard had the paper flat on the table as he scooped fruit from the cup. "Fresh blackberries," he said with a sigh. "My favorite."
"Don't I know?" Melissa smiled, glad her husband still appreciated the little things. She set his omelet in front of him.
"Any requests for dinner?" she asked as she watched her husband eat.
"Whatever you'd like to make, my love," he answered, poring over the local news. Melissa sipped her coffee; she herself wasn't a breakfast person and wouldn't eat until later in the day, after she'd gotten her workout in. She swore that skipping breakfast was one reason she had maintained her figure through one pregnancy and twenty years. The couple were both 38; she'd conceived and given birth to their son at age 20, while Richard was still in college and she worked in her mother's bakery. The unplanned pregnancy helped them clarify their values in a hurry; both hoped for a family and they were in love, no doubt about that. They'd arranged a quick wedding before Melissa started showing too obviously. Neither gave a thought to how their married life began anymore; they were too compatible and happy to dwell in the past like that.
After eating, Richard went to get ready for work. Melissa cleaned the mess and wiped out the now-cooled omelet pan and set it back on the stove, ready for her son to come out for his meal. She stripped the sheets from their bed and replaced them, then threw the soiled linen into the wash. She hummed as she worked, a woman content with her life.
2
After sending Richard off to work with a kiss, Melissa opened her laptop to check her email and her cloud-based calendar. She found it most helpful to keep track of her schedule this way; though she'd checked her schedule yesterday, she wanted to make sure none of the groups she was active with had made any changes that would affect her.
"Perfect," she said with a smile. She really had nothing that required her attention this afternoon. She woke her son with a knock on the door. "Last call for breakfast, sleepyhead," she said, poking her head in the door. Tyler, laying on his stomach, raised his head off his pillow, looked at his mom, blinked twice, and let his head fall back to the pillow.
"Five minutes," Melissa heard from the bed.
"I'll start your omelet."
"Thanks, mom."
Melissa pulled her son's door closed behind her. Hearing the click, Tyler raised his head again. He turned over onto his back and stretched, yawning. He threw back the sheet; he slept naked and his 18-year-old morning wood stuck skyward, an impressive tool on a toned, muscular body. Tyler scratched his chest; he'd just begun sprouting hair there, though he'd been shaving his face for almost two years now.
He took his erection in hand, gently stroking up and down. He'd been awakened from a particularly erotic sexual dream; he'd been having anonymous sex with a blonde bombshell who was stretched out on a blanket in the woods, face down and ass up, moaning loudly as he thrust roughly into her cunt from behind.
He called the dream to mind as he stroked roughly up and down, wondering what it would actually feel like to have himself buried inside someone, to have a pussy grip his hard cock. His dry, frantic stroking rubbed him harshly; he needed to hurry. Faster and faster, his hand gripped and squeezed as he jerked his way to an early-morning climax.
He groaned as semen exploded from the swollen head of his dick, shooting up into the sky before spattering back down, landing on his chest and stomach. His ball sack contracted over and over, sending jets of fertile cum up, babies never to be born. Gasping, he reached for the tissues on his bedside and quickly wiped himself clean. He then tossed the tissue and poked his head out the door. No mom. He hurried to the bathroom to clean himself more thoroughly. A warm washcloth, wetted from the sink, wiped the residue from his skin; he tossed it in the hamper when he was done, then hurried back to his room to get dressed.
3
Two minutes later, clad in running shorts and a muscle shirt, he wolfed down the omelet, then took his dishes to the sink. Kissing his mom on the cheek, he said "You take such good care of me, mom. Thank you!" Melissa smiled and hugged her son, her head pressing into his chest. Tyler towered over both his parents; at 6' 5", he was a full head taller than his mother. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, his hands rubbing between her shoulder blades. His breath nearly caught in his throat. Lately, when he was close to his mom like this, his body reacted in a way it never had. Her body pressed against his caused a tightening in his groin even though he had just cum minutes earlier.
Her body felt good against his palms; he spread his fingers wide, and his large hands nearly covered the top half of her back. His mom pulled away, patted his chest with one hand, and turned to the sink to rinse his dishes. Tyler stood watching her for a minute; she went about her day as though the hug meant nothing more than it should to a good mom. He sighed; there was no sense chasing phantoms.
Tyler was a pretty simple guy, really. He wasn't a standout in any respect; he was mostly a go-along-to-get-along sort of fellow. He was in decent shape, but not athletic; he did well in his studies but didn't excel academically; and he was good-looking but didn't attract a lot of attention. He didn't really have the desire to apply himself to anything. He knew he'd go to college, but didn't really care much about furthering his education. He'd be just as happy to spend his time gaming with his friends.
Had he been more determined, he could have achieved more in his life. He had a sharp mind; years of gaming had taught him strategic thinking, and he was a natural problem-solver. His tall, lean build would have been great for a swimmer or distance runner. Most notable, though, was that if he'd bothered to talk to girls rather than just look, several of his classmates would have been more than happy to share their beds with him. Sadly, Tyler wasn't even aware of this fact.
He was scrolling through his social media accounts on his phone when it pinged with an incoming text from his friend Chris.
Chris: wyd?
Tyler: Chilling
Chris: l8r 2day??
Tyler: Work.
Chris: Call in sick. U will thank me!
Tyler:???
