15

This is a parody story. No characters represent any real person, alive or deceased.

All characters are over the age of 18, including cartoon characters who have failed several years of school.

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It was brought to my attention that I had, even if unintentionally, borrowed heavily for this chapter from a concept brought forth by another writer. My apologies, and this rewrite should solve those concerns.

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Saturday morning found Francine Smith doing the least favorite chore of the great American housewife, the family laundry.

Performing what had become a morning ritual; she blazed a fatty of Chronic from her stash and grabbed a Coke to chase away the dryness as she began the mundane chore of gathering the disorganized piles of laundry from her kid's rooms.

As she lugged her basket through the kitchen on her way to the laundry room she saw Klaus jump to the top of his fish bowl where he suspended himself above the rim with his flippers and called out. "Franzine; could you come here for a moment?"

Francine set her laundry basket down and leaned her elbow on the kitchen counter as she gazed into his little fish eyes. "What is it Klaus?"

"I just wanted to tell you that you look just exquisite today Mein Fraulein."

"Well aren't you the charmer this morning." The beautiful mom replied with a dazzling smile, stroking the top of his head with a couple of fingers. "What brought this on?"

"You are such a beautiful Frau, Francine..." He said.

"Beautiful huh?" Francine cooed, resting her elbow on the counter top and supporting her smiling face by the chin just a few inches from his bowl. "Go on; I'm listening." She smiled so beautifully with gratitude for the compliment that it nearly melted his fish heart.

Running his tiny fish eyes up and down her form, he finished his thought. "And well, I just noticed lately you are dressing a little more...how should I say this? Ah yes; Flittchen."

"What is Flittchen Klaus?" she asked.

"You know; slutty." He smiled a cheesy grin, unsure of her response.

Francine stepped away from the counter and held her hands out. "You mean like this little number?" She turned in a slow circle as he admired her attire for the morning.

With just a pair of cute ankle socks on her feet, she wore a skin tight pair of white yoga pants that appeared to be painted on her curvy body, stretched so tight that they were becoming nearly sheer in places. As she turned he could make out that she was wearing a tiny little thong panty.

On top she wore a pink Under Armor brand, super stretchy tank top that was at least two sizes too small. It encased and held up for display her big, braless tits.

Klaus stood frozen, his eyes glued to her form. He began to speak robotically. "My God, you are a Goddess! You are wearing no das Bustier!"

Even Francine understood he was referring in German to her braless state.

"I have twelve thousand dollars in my wallet and no Gott Verdammt hands. The money is yours if you will just give me one hour of your time." He pleaded.

"If you only had a big ol Weiner Schnitzel that I could actually wrap my hands around Klaus." She licked her lips and smiled wickedly. "I have some laundry to do right now, so maybe another time."

She picked her basket up and strutted away, never seeing Klaus' jaw coming unhinged as he called out. "YOU DIDN'T SAY NO! YOU DIDN'T SAY NO!"

Suddenly Klaus recalled overhearing Stan arguing with Roger after his Couples Neuro Relaxation Therapy session about a magic word to unlock Francine's sensual side. Klaus began calling out the phrase, hoping against hope that it would unlock the beautiful blonde for his pleasure.

"Legerdemain! Legerdemain! Legerdemain!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.

He couldn't see that Francine had come to an abrupt stop on the other side of the door. She stood slack jawed, staring into space, her mind and emotions once more being transformed by the powerful suggestions the word represented.

Five minutes later the blonde wife began sorting clothes mindlessly by color and fabric with a huge smile on her lips as random thoughts began entering her mind.

'I feel really sorry for Klaus. Trapped in a fish's body by Stan and his buddies at the CIA, no companion...no hands.'

Her attention was distracted from her daydreaming by something rough and stiff in her hands. It was a crusty pair of underwear; her underwear.

"What the fuck?" She exclaimed as she held them at arm's length. She had no idea what it was that covered the inside of her panties. Hesitantly, she had touched the white crusty material. Then she knew. "Cum!" she gasped.

After the initial shock of discovery, she looked down at the pile of clothes she had pulled her soiled panties from, only to discover the load of clothes came from Steve's room. That made sense. Her husband Stan had been out of town for the last three days and she'd thrown these panties in her hamper just yesterday, so it wasn't Stan's cum. It wasn't green, so it wasn't Roger's. A smile crossed her lips as she realized that it had to be Steve's cum.

As she stood in her cold gray basement, laundry spilling around her, she began laughing. "I've raised a pervert. What a weird thing for him to do." she said as she stared at her desecrated underwear. Her transformation from shock, disgust, and disappointment to lust and desire was inevitable and swift. She was after all a very horny woman lately.

As she tried to understand the whys of what her son had done, Francine's irritation at the condition of her panties increasingly turned to curiosity. Her son had masturbated his big cock into her panties, that much she was certain of.

She thought about physical act of masturbation. "How many times has he done that?" she thought, shocked at the incredible amount of sperm. "This couldn't all be from one time." she told herself. "Although, he does have some really big balls."

Not only was the crotch of her modest black bikini panties completely filled, but dried cum rose up the sides and back. "He must have done it so many times." she marveled. It made her mind reel with excitement to think about him masturbating into them.

She giggled self-consciously when she found a glimmer of humor in that thought. "He must actually be hornier than I am. Poor boy." She knew Steve didn't have a steady girlfriend and never really had many casual girlfriends either. He had a difficult time with the opposite sex. Looking at her underwear, a glimmer of sympathy took hold.

She began to act and think more like a mother again, even seeing the funny side of her discovery. "What were you thinking Steve? Did you think I wouldn't notice? I do the wash for shits sake. Did you think I would not find them?" She sighed as she looked again at the crusted mess.

Most of the sperm had dried and cracked, reminding her of an arid salt flat. In several places it was so thick that it hadn't completely dried. It had a sticky sheen that made her curious as she wondered aloud, "How long does it take sperm to dry? When did he do this?"

Her experience with sperm in her younger days was far from limited, so she knew this was an remarkable quantity. As she contemplated that question and others she consciously became aware of the disturbing stirrings that were taking place inside her own body. "Francine Smith, you dirty girl."' she playfully scolded herself for what she was contemplating.

The full richness of the aroma of her son's sperm ignited a feeling in her that she refused to disregard. Without thinking, she brought the panties to her face and inhaled deeply. The overpowering aroma was nearly mind-altering to her in her present state.

As she inhaled again a rush of exhilarating feelings struck her body. Alone and in her basement, with no one watching, she indulged the guilty pleasure of touching her breasts. Her body shuddered delightfully and she couldn't help smiling as a sexual rush ascended up from between her legs. She wanted to scold herself for being so wicked but the delectable dampness that had crept between her strong thighs was too pleasing.

She tried to blunt her sinful urges by pressing her legs together but that only put more pressure on her pussy and made her all the more aware of how turned on she'd become. To distract her body, she examined her panties again. She wondered if this were the only pair of her panties he'd masturbated in. Determined to find out, she emptied the laundry hamper onto the floor and searched for more evidence of his sinful behavior. She was almost disappointed when she didn't find another pair. Her mind reeled and her body shuddered as she contemplated the physical act required to produce so much sperm.

It had only been four days since she had first seen Steve completely naked, stroking his huge cock in his room. Obscene visions of his slim young body flashed through her mind and lust wracked her emotions as she envisioned him holding his cock in her panties and cumming into them. Her imagination spun out of control. "How did he hold them?"' she wondered. "Did he wrap them around it or just jack off into them? How many times did he do it?"

More wicked thoughts inundated her mind. "I wonder who he was thinking about while he did it? Girls at school...movie stars? Could have been thinking of me?"

"Maybe he just likes panties?" she tried convincing herself as she really was beginning to embrace the enticing notion that he thought about her as he masturbated into her panties.

She caught herself hoping it was true. "Francine Smith, you naughty girl. Wishing something like that?" Unable to control her emotions, her mind focused on that lone fantasy and any small amount of guilt easily slipped away.

Bringing her soiled underwear closer to her face, she marveled again at the amount of sperm that filled them. "He must have done it so many times." That made her giggle and a small glowing smile inched across her face. She could no longer ignore her pussy and conveniently forgot to admonish herself for allowing her body to respond.

She brought her soiled panties back to her face and stared inside, inhaling deeply again. The smell was a delicious mixture of young, virile male pheromones. She inhaled again as visions of her naked son jacking his huge cock off into them filled her mind. "I wonder if he calls out my name when he cums?" She wondered, her voice sounding so far away.

Quickly dropping the panties, Francine closed her eyes and moved her hand roughly over her aching breasts. That wasn't enough to satisfy her anymore. Guilt ridden and driven by an ever increasing desire, she moved her hand under her yoga pants and rested it over her panties. She could feel the heat coming from within as she moved her fingers across her damp crease.

Her fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, slipped under the elastic waistband of her thong and rested over the moist cleft of her pussy. Her brown pubic hair, she amusingly noted was already damp and matted.

She hesitated for only a second before pushing her finger between the soft wet folds of her vulva and onto her clit. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she moved her finger in small circles over her engorged clit. With great enthusiasm, she admitted how good that felt. She wouldn't allow herself climax yet though.

"I'm just a little horny." she consoled herself while at the same time slightly increasing the pressure on her clit. "I need to tease myself until I'm really horny." she told herself as she guiltily let her finger slip a little further into her pussy. With one hand still between her legs, she picked up her panties again. Large chunks of dried sperm clung precariously from the fabric. Her middle finger began fucking inside her pussy as she moaned softly.

Before she realized what she was doing Francine was pressing the crusty, sperm covered panties to her face, rubbing it against her skin like a hot towel at the day spa. Her finger moved to her clit and she rubbed it harder. The manly aroma of the cum was exhilarating as she ground her panties into her face. With the crotch pressed tightly against her nose, she inhaled deeply. One nostril became clogged with the plaster like mix, so she blew out. Instinctively, her tongue flicked out and licked up the good size bit. She tasted the sweet saltiness of her son's cum and greedily sought out more.

Her finger was back inside of her pussy, moving faster and more determined now. When she tried to pull the panties she was wearing aside she frustratingly realized they wouldn't stretch enough under her tight yoga pants to allow her full access to her pussy.

Lifting herself up from the floor, she quickly pulled the yoga pants and her panties down her legs, over one socked foot and then the other, roughly kicking them aside. "Oh fuck yesssss," she said letting out a loud moan when she finally got her finger back inside of her cunt. She pressed her cum soaked silk panties into her mouth and allowed her tongue to wash the crotch.

Francine couldn't stop herself now. With her mouth wide open, she gathered in as much of her son's hardened sperm as she could find. Still not satisfied, she turned them inside out and stuffed them in her mouth, sucking and capturing the last of the salty flakes.

The cool floor against her naked legs fought to temper her over heated body but lost out to the overpowering lust within her. After many minutes of wild masturbation, she collapsed onto the gritty basement floor, exhausted and for the moment satisfied.

When she regained her senses, the hot mom giggledwhen she saw how barren the panties were now. Only a few faint white spots were left where once it had been a whitewash of sperm.

"Oh my God, did I do that?" She ran her tongue over her teeth and tasted her son again. Dried and smeared cum clung from her face everywhere. She used her fingers to bring it to her mouth. She couldn't get enough. "Better than chocolate." she laughed as she licked her fingers until her son's salty seed was all but gone.

Drunk with lust, she ripped up her tight fitting top and frantically pawed at her engorged breasts. She pinched and pulled her aching nipples, pinching and pulling them before twisting them and mashing them together. Her other hand went back between her legs and she fingered herself mercilessly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, this feels so fucking good!" she called out. Even if she'd wanted to, she couldn't control her second and third climax. Like a runaway freight train, they smashed through her body and exploded from between her legs. "Uhhhhhhh! Yesssssss! Fuck yesssss Fuck!" She cried. When she could finally breathe normally, she wiped at the sweat that rolled down her face. Her fingers gathered up the last remnants of her son's sperm and she greedily brought them to her mouth.

"Does he think about blow jobs like is most men?" she wondered. Francine, until recently had rarely given in to Stan's frequent request for her to suck his dick because she had convinced herself that as a good wife, the act was demeaning to women. She now readily would admit to anyone how much she enjoyed the feel of a smooth hard cock in her mouth, as well as the taste of cum.

"I wonder how Steve's big dick would feel in my mouth?" she wondered out loud. "Francine Smith, you are such a perv." she playfully chided herself as she snatched up her abused panties one more time. Looking at them, she saw again that there was nothing left but raw silk. She was so exhausted that she was sure she couldn't possibly cum one more time.

The spilled laundry caught her eye again and even though she'd searched it once, she crawled over to it on hands and knees and perversely tore through it in any hope that she had missed a pair her son had jacked off into. There was of course no more.

Frustrated, she weakly pulled herself to her feet. Her top hung above her breasts, rolled tightly. The panties she'd worn as well as the pair her son had cum in lay discarded on the floor next to her yoga pants.

She fixed her top and pulled her pants back on before placing the clean laundry basket on her hip and starting up the stairs from the laundry room. It had been an exhausting morning already, and all that remained was to deliver the piles of folded clothes to Steve's room, and then take the rest to Haley's room and the master bedroom.

Francine paused on the landing to push her hair back behind an ear. She loved the way her hair was looking lately. 'Wow...I need a trim.' She reminded herself to make an appointment next week.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, she walked down the second floor hallway to Steve' room. The door was closed, and as was the custom in the Smith household, she politely knocked. Not hearing an answer, she knocked again, a little louder this time, and then turned the doorknob.

The sight that met her eyes burned with a flash into the backs of her eyes. The room was dark except for the light that emanated from a computer monitor. Steve was facing the door, sitting in front of the screen with headphones on, from which she could hear a driving beat. His desk hid most of his body from her, but his bare chest and shoulders rose above the top of the desk.

His cell phone was attached to his computer and he was looking intently at the screen, his right hand in his lap moving back and forth. By way of the big mirror hanging next to his bed, the picture on the screen forced its way into her consciousness. The image showed Francine kneeling on her hands and knees on her bed, her ass towards the camera, her face looking back with a lusty expressions. There was no pretense of covering her various charms. Her anus winked out a deeper pink than the pale skin of the rest of her bottom, as she drove a big black dildo deep into her pussy.

With a gasp, Francine Smith dropped the laundry basket. In the same instant, Steve, sensing the change in the light in the room guiltily grabbed his white briefs and pulled them up his legs, unsuccessfully attempting to stuff his erection back into concealment. He looked terribly embarrassed while looking up and seeing his mother's horrified expression.

"Mommmmm," he whined, sounding miserably like an immature brat, as he whipped around and shut off his monitor. He wanted to shrink into a tiny ball as he began to cover himself, never suspecting that she had seen the image on his screen. Francine quickly grabbed the basket and accidently slammed the door behind her, a lot harder than she intended.

'Oh, shit,' the teenager thought, 'why the fuck did that have to happen?'

Steve's erection had subsided enough that he was able to get his white briefs the rest of the way up. He walked over and lay on his bed, feeling more ashamed than the time he accidentally knocked his Dad's antique beer stein collection off of the mantelpiece.

"Bad enough that mom thinks she's caught me stroking off to some random web page. Pile that on top of accidentally seeing her in her negligee the other night..." He whined softly.

"I don't know what the Hell I'm going to do if she ever finds out she sent that picture to me last night. Not to mention if she finds out about those hot pictures I took last night through the opening in her bedroom door."

Outside in the hallway, her heart pounding, Francine leaned against Steve's bedroom door. With one hand pressed against her mouth, she could hear everything Steve said. With an impatient shake of her golden hair, she decided to finish separating the laundry in her own room.

Later that night while lying in bed Francine became concerned that she might have scarred Steve for life. "Francine Smith, I think you kind of panicked." She told her reflection in her full length mirror as she got ready for bed. "I shouldn't have raised my voice the other night in the hallway. For god's sake, that was my fault not Steve's. And now tonight I compound the issue by running out of there without telling him that masturbation is only natural."