"Come on, mom. Just a little," Matt whispered in the kitchen.
"No," she replied sharply.
"But it's been an entire week without—"
"No!" she whispered, pointing the long sharp kitchen knife in her hand at me to make the point. She had been dicing tomatoes on the large cutting board. The vegetable platter she was preparing to bring out to the barbeque was nearly finished. Neighbors and friends swarmed their backyard. The thump of music could be heard through the closed sliding glass door. Monica had kept her distance from her stepson since their last encounter. There was a difference between clearing a man's head so he could focus on his schoolwork and being a distraction.
I was not raised to be a distraction.
"Go outside, go on your father's out there, your sister, your friends. Go think about that," Monica shooed him away, then got to work dumping the tomatoes in the last slot of the vegetable tray.
It was Labor Day weekend. A Meyer family tradition was to have a cookout for the neighborhood every year and this was the eighth year in a row. The sun shined with a nice breeze. The tables they set up in the front and back yard were full of people, most of whom Monica and Todd, her husband, tolerated, but still. Parties were about people coming together and not just the ones you knew.
The sulking expression her 18-year-old son wore morphed into one of thought as the hue on his cheeks pinked.
"What is it?" Monica finally asked.
"Well, um, nothing," Matt hung is head and turned around from the kitchen island Monica worked on.
"Stop. What is it?" she said in a warning tone. Her son turned around carefully so no one could see through the sliding glass door. "Oh, my," Monica put a hand to her mouth, astonished by the size of the tent formed in his jeans.
"It's just that red dress your wearing is my favorite, and I can't stop thinking about you and—"
"Okay, um, let's uh—let's just go over here," Monica said, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching as she led her son into the nearby master bedroom. Her and his father's room. The forty-year-old mother of two wore a form fitting strawberry red dress with spaghetti straps and a matching pencil skirt. Overtop she wore a colorful apron that covered in drawings of fruit. Removing the apron, she laid it on the bed and looked at her gold fossil watch, worried that her husband could come looking for her at any moment. "Okay, come on. Take off your pants."
Monica waved her hand for her son to hurry up. He unbuckled his jeans and slid them down as she closed the door. Matt's massive cock bounced and stood erect like it was pointing at her. Pinching the sides of her tight skirt so she could hike it up a few inches, Monica kneeled before her son who sat on the edge of her bed. Her fingers gripping her son's shaft and started pumping. The veiny shaft flexed against her grip and she felt its strength. Looking up at Matt's face as she worked his cock over was exhilarating. She loved the way he looked down on her. With her hand jerking his hard cock, his eyes looked at her like a queen. The pleasure he felt, the power she had... it was intoxicating.
"Mmm, you like that? Is this what you wanted?" she whispered, stealing glances at the closed doors. "I had no idea how dirty my son was. I can't even wear a low cut dress without him walking around with this big hard cock."
Pumping faster, Monica shook her blond hair off her neck as she felt the sting of a sweat beginning to form. Her tits bouncing wildly as she jacked her stepson off, she felt her loose spaghetti straps teeter and fall off her shoulders. First the left, then the right. Matt's mouth was wide as he breathed heavily staring in anticipation. The power of his gaze and drunk feeling it gave her was almost too much.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" Monica teased, groping the loose fabric around her breast with her palm. She finally peeled it away and let one of her breasts bounce free. "You like tha—"
There was a quick two knocks on the door and Monica froze, she looked, expecting to see her husband or half the neighborhood to be standing in the doorway, but thankfully the door didn't immediately open.
"Monica? You in there?" a familiar voice with a thick Alabama accent.
Amanda,
Monica thought. The nosy neighbor and the epicenter of all the drama in this neighborhood.
"Uh, yes, um, don't come in I'm changing," Monica blurted out. She released Matt's cock and was moving away, now that she had been discovered, when Matt grabbed her wrist. The look of shock, betrayal, anger, and a lecturing mother all appeared at once on her face as she looked up to the short smile on her son's lips and the quick shake of his head as he brought her palm back to his member.
"Oh, of course, dear," Amanda said in a sing song voice. "Your husband, Todd, just sent me to tell you to find Matt."
Monica went back to pumping Matt's cock with a tense grip and a vigorous speed. Her eyes narrowed on her son with a stern warning behind them as she spoke.
"Okay, I'll go get him," she said.
"I guess Todd needs someone to make a run for more charcoal. You know,
your
parties always are the biggest hits and all..." Amanda said like it was an insult.
Both of Monica's breasts were bouncing uncontrollably out the top of her dress as she stroked her son. She tried to pull her dresses straps on over her shoulders one at a time but they kept falling back down.
"Okay, thanks," Monica said slightly winded.
"Mmhmm," Amanda hummed through the door. Monica listened to hear if she could hear her nosy neighbors footsteps clack across their hardwood floors but she heard nothing.
Monica saw the fountain of pre-ejaculate that dripped down the tip of his cock and covered her thumb and the back of her hand as she pumped him. Looking him in the eyes, she gave him a stern no games look.
"You need to orgasm now," she whispered, glancing back at the door. "please son, we have to get back to the party. You father will be looking for us any minute!"
Monica's eyes became wide, her eyebrows high and pleading. "Please, just let it go. Please, baby. Give it to momma. Give me everything. Monica saw the squint in Matt's eyes and the soft groan grew from within him. Her lips panting just over his cock. "Oh yes, baby, that's it. Cum for me yes. Yes!" she whispered.
Without warning, her son grabbed the back of her neck and puller his lips down and around the head of his cock. The orgasm he had was instantaneous. His spurts of semen bounced off the roof of her mouth and fell to her tongue. Holding her mouth on him to the last flex of his cock, he released her and Monica pulled away. She coughed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, having already swallowed his seed.
"What are you doing? Are you crazy? We can't do that!" she huffed in anger, even though she could feel just how wet his dominance had mad her between the thighs. "That's it, we're done. No more!"
"Wait what? No, I just thought—"
Monica stood adjusting her skirt and dress, then held up a finger. "We will talk about this later, mister."
Monica left the room with a secret smile in the corner of her lips, already imagining the visit to her son's room tonight.
...................
Monica was in the kitchen with Todd, cleaning the remaining serving dishes.
Thank God they used paper plates for the cookout, or I'd be here all night
.
It was more accurate to say Monica was cleaning the dishes and Todd sat on the kitchen counter (which she had told him twice not to do) and complained about what everyone else said and did during the party. Todd's work for the cookout ended after he turned off the grill (after cooking charred black hot dogs, and dry unseasoned burger patties).
The woman nodded and pretended to listen as she finished and took off her apron. She went through the house and saw a million and one jobs that still needed to be done. Mostly cleaning. Things that could wait until tomorrow.
"These floors are filthy," Todd complained as he sat in his lazy boy chair. The weight of his rounded belly made the chair rock back and forth as he undid his belt and let his circumference expand. He was referencing the bits of dirt and grass tracked in along the hardwood floor from people using the bathroom...
And the nosy neighbor Amanda almost catching me with my stepson.
Monica ignored the comment and sat on her side of the couch which was on the opposite side of the living room from Todd. Some old football game played on their enormous TV and before half time, Todd was curled under
his
blanket like a large baby and snoring with his feet up.
