Just Once Never Ending

Just Once, Never-ending

By Rusty Zipper

Story description: A son blackmails his mom to do a distasteful task that snowballs into a gooey mess and escalates.

***

DAY ONE: COMPROMISING POSITION

I blackmailed my mom.

I did it on a whim when I caught her in a compromising position. At the time, it was also an effective way to circumvent her livid disposition that arose from my duplicitous judgment.

It all began when I entered her bedroom without knocking. She was laying on the bed wearing a robe, but the bottom half was parted.

Naked from the waist down, her thighs were widely opened.

With a vibrator in hand, she was pleasuring herself and was moaning with her eyes closed.

I had my phone in hand and did something stupid. Well, perhaps it wasn't so foolish now that I think about it, I guess it depends on perspective.

I took a picture of her masturbating.

Not a smart move if you forget to turn the flash off.

Yeah, a burst of light in a dim room did alert my mom to an intruder.

Her eyes immediately popped open and the reaction was what you'd expect.

Her knees snapped together while she scrambled to close her robe and she yelled, "What the fuck, Chad!"

"The door wasn't locked," I replied.

The noise produced from the vibrator in her hand made for an awkward conversation.

Her face blushed as she franticly twisted the bottom to turn it off.

Tossing the device under the covers, she retorted, "And you didn't have the decency to knock?"

Her angry chastisement stemmed more from embarrassment, but she was right. I should have been more conscientious for her privacy and been a gentleman.

Buffeted by guilt, I said, "I'm sorry. I'll knock next time. I'm going back to my room."

I turned and placed my hand on the doorknob.

"What did you do?" my mom said with an accusatorial tone.

I turned back to look at her, my expression was guilty of a travesty.

I've learned by experience from my girlfriend that women have this unusual ability to read a man's mind based on his countenance. Moms are even more efficient at reading their sons like they have a built-in guilt detector. In this instant, circumstance, a flash of light, and a cellphone with a camera that was noticeable in my hand made it easy for her to deduce that I'd done something deplorable.

Her eyes narrowed, she headily rasped, "I'm your mother, how could you?"

Truly, my stomach did wrench at that specific moment. I was caught committing an appalling act and my back was against the wall.

Then she demanded, "Delete that picture right now!"

Perhaps it was the tone of desperation in her voice that triggered me.

"Why would I? Maybe I'll send it to your friends. Perhaps I'll email blast it to your church group. Wouldn't that be embarrassing?"

She huffed, "You're blackmailing me?"

Okay, for clarity, I wasn't thinking of that when I threatened her. It was primarily to get her off my back. She put the idea in my head and my thoughts became perverse. When my mind drifted to the gutter, I began thinking of how far I could push her.

"Yeah, I'm blackmailing you," I replied.

For a moment, she stared at me with a red face and a slack jaw.

She then said, "You can't be serious. You'd do that to your mother?"

I sheepishly smiled and replied, "I have a picture of you with your legs spread and a vibrator half-buried in your hole. That gives me leverage. How desperate are you to keep it out of circulation?"

"Chad, what do you what? A game console? A computer for college? A new car? Tell me and I'll pay for it. Then you'll delete that damn picture from your phone."

I said, "How about a hand-job and you don't stop until I pop."

It was obvious that I'd taken her off-guard. She began stuttering and then coughed to clear her throat.

With a furrowed brow and her eyes narrowed on me, she exclaimed, "Did you just say you want me to jerk you off?"

"Yes. Until I ejaculate. I have an explicit picture of you, my payment should be of equivalent significance."

"Oh hell no. I didn't raise a perv. I'm your mom, that's sick. You've lost your mind. You're playing me. Pick something reasonable," she replied.

I decided to bluff by placing my hand on the doorknob. I then said, "It's no joke. You're not taking me seriously. As soon as I step through this door, I'm bombing the picture out. I'll let you explain it to your churchy friends."

"Chad, this is ridiculous."

I replied, "Okay, I'm out of here," as I opened the door and took one step out.

"Wait," she blathered out in desperation.

I closed the door and turned back to face her.

She glared at me and said, "You'll delete the picture in front of me when I'm done?"

I kept my expression blank, but I was nervous and shocked by her reply. Her last statement was more than a consideration and I must admit it intrigued me.

I said, "Of course I will. I'm not out to hurt you."

"You need to swear that this will never be discussed. Not one fucking word to anyone. Do you hear me?" she demanded.

"Do you think I'm crazy? My lips are sealed, I promise."

She rose to her knees and mumbled, "I can't believe I'm agreeing to do this."

It was as if she read my mind again because I was thinking the same damn thing. Frankly, I was scared and wasn't so sure I could go through with it.

I was about to say that I was teasing her and would just delete the picture.

Then she said, "Chad, drop your pants and underwear. It'll be easier than yanking it from the fly."

Yeah, my mom said that. Perhaps in a more casual tone than expected and now I was the one taken off-guard. I was her son and it wasn't like she hadn't seen me naked before. Although, I wasn't a little kid taking a bath and much had changed since then.

"Are you going to do it or not?" she said.

I stuttered, "Y...Ye...Yea...Yeah, give me a second."

My mom gawked at me and I was unnerved by it.

At this moment, I felt like the one being blackmailed. I'd somehow backed myself in a corner and felt obligated to follow through with the obscenity.

After I placed my cell phone on the dresser, I hesitantly removed my shoes, trousers, and boxers and then stood there like a fool staring back at her.

Truly, she wasn't smiling, and she had no desire to do this. Seeing her son naked from the waist down wasn't sexually arousing to her, it was the opposite. She was repulsed by the idea and it showed on her expression, but she oddly took the blackmail to heart and felt coerced to follow through. She was being tasked to perform a sexual act on her son it distressed her.

She huffed and then said, "I'm not stooping on a dirty floor. Crawl up on the bed and get on your knees. Don't make this difficult for me or I'll change my mind and take my chances."

I'd gone this far, and I admit I had a legitimate curiosity as to whether my mom would fondle me or chicken out at the last instant. For that matter, would I even allow her to do it or would I freak out and find myself in an awkward predicament?

I clambered up on the bed and shuffled forward on my knees until I was five feet away and facing her.

I could have ended this now by telling her the blackmail was a sham to see how far she'd go, but when I saw her busty cleavage and a shadowy nipple from the parted dangle of her robe it kind of jinxed that idea and I kept my mouth shut.

She grimaced and then whined, "Chad, I'm your damn mother and your penis is hard already. What the hell?"

Well, in truth, it didn't get rock solid until she approached me which is why she made that comment. Acquiring an erection when my mom came within proximity was difficult to explain and somewhat shameful.

I replied, "I don't control my dick. What do you want me to say?"

"You shouldn't have a boner is all I'm saying," she exclaimed.

Yeah, her response required me to give her a "what the fuck," look so I did.

I replied, "Are you going keep appraising my rigidity or do the deed?"

She returned the same expression I had given her a moment ago and mumbled, "This is so wrong."

She reached out and clasped the shaft in her right hand. As she began slowly yanking my dick, her face expressed distaste and she turned her head to avoid looking at it.

When she felt my member twitch and throb in her hand, she grimaced and muttered, "Oh my god, you're turned on by this."

I said, "It's obvious and the point of this activity. Remember you can't stop until I ejaculate. I'm going to edge this for as long as possible."

She pivoted her head back and glared at me. She then heatedly said, "You're going to do what?"

When she first touched my dick, I'd thought I'd be as squeamish as she was, but having her hand wrapped around my shank had a calming effect and my arousal inspired a vulgar image in my mind. Since she wasn't matching expectations, I decided to up the ante by manipulating her.

I replied, "You're not performing with much enthusiasm and my dick knows it. I'm going to try and hold off the urge just to humiliate you. There is a way to speed this up, but you won't like it."

She huffed and then replied, "Jerking you off was our agreement. What are you suggesting?"

"If you put it in your mouth and looked up at me with pouty eyes, that would damn sure speed up the process."

"You're asking me to suck your cock?" she retorted.

"No. I'm giving you an alternative that will shorten the time you'll have to spend with that nauseated expression on your face. It's your choice."

"Chad, that's taking this too far. Not happening."

"Then keep up your lackluster tugging. I'm sure I'll feel the need eventually," I replied.

She snapped, "Oh, hell no, I'm not spending all day on the bed fondling your penis. This needs to end."

Her hand movements intensified with full stokes to the top of the head and gentle twists of the shank. She also dropped her other hand to my balls to kneed them with encouragement.

I kept my mouth shut because I knew without a doubt that commenting on her hasty eagerness would temper the momentum and perhaps put an abrupt end to progressing from here.

She glared at me to appraise whether her actions were having any positive effect to bring this deplorable deed to a conclusion.

"Damn it, Chad, fucking come already," she grumbled.

She pivoted her head down to look at my cock. She stared at the bulbous head as her hand frenziedly frolicked along the length.

Her shoulders quivered once as her face crinkled before she raised her head to look at me. With a stern stare, she said, "Don't you dare come in my mouth. Do you understand?"

Wide-eyed from her remark, I hastily replied, "Yeah, yeah...I'll let you know."

She pivoted at the waist and lowered her head. I watched her mouth gape and hesitantly envelop the knob for a brief instant before she jerked and pulled back.

With a scowl of distasteful, she smacked her lips and said, "Did you cum already?"

I had to reply to that one. I said, "You'd know if I did. You're tasting pre-cum. Have you never given dad a blowjob?"

Ah, yeah, she gave me one of those looks that conveyed I'd said too much.

She snapped, "I'm not discussing my sex life with you. And yes, many times."

"Then what's the problem? Look you've already slurped it off the tip. Not promising I won't leak, but if you slobber when you do it, you probably won't taste it."

Mom glared at me for a moment. It was clear my reply wasn't helpful, and her patience was running thin.

She huffed and then broke eye contact as she lowered her head once again.

This wasn't my first time receiving a blowjob. My girlfriend did it on a few occasions, but I confess she is a novice compared to my mother. With an enthusiastic approach, my mom was determined to conclude this shameful task as quickly as possible.

She bobbed, slobbered, and licked while tugging the base of my shank and playing with my balls. She performed like a calibrated dick sucking machine with years of experience that contained greasy gears perfectly meshed to work with efficiency.

I was so pleasured by her eager mouth that I was distracted and forgot to warn her. Having not ejaculated in a few days, I had a full load and it jetted out as a copious thick stream followed a final short burst that trumpeted the emptying of my balls.

I'd made a dreadful mistake that I would later regret.

I quipped, "Oh shit," with a hesitant downward tilt of my head.

Looking down at my mom with guilt and a queasy expression, I was at a loss for words.

She stared back at me with her eyes broadly opened.

For a few moments, her mouth encircled the girth of my cock as her mind wrangled with what had just occurred.

When her eyes suddenly narrowed on me and her face turned red, I knew then that she had figured it out. After purging of my penis from her oral cavity, it remained wide open and her complexion paled as her face crinkled up to express disgust.

A layer of cum rested like a thick gooey carpet on her tongue and pooled on the bottom part of her lip where it dribbled over to trickle down to her chin.

She awkwardly shrieked, "Uw ame in my ouf, how cud uw!" with a cupped hand hovering under her jaw to catch droplets of sticky semen.

I interpreted that as "You came in my mouth, how could you!" and yes, observing a gelatinous sludge of ejaculate dribbling from my mother's mouth did make me cringe.

She scrambled off the bed in a mad rush and dashed through the bathroom door.

Oddly, there was nothing but silence.

After a minute, I said, "Are you okay?"

That's when she began spitting into the sink and running water.

The timing of it was weird. It would be a couple of days before it made sense to me.

Gathering my nerve, I yelled, "I'm sorry!"

The sounds of her gurgling with mouth wash echoed from the open door.

Knowing she was pissed, I thought it best to get dressed quickly so I crawled off the bed and snatched my boxers off the floor.

I had just finished buckling my belt when she appeared in the bathroom doorway.

My mom calmly said, "Get your phone, socks, and shoes, and get the hell out of my bedroom. No discussion. I don't want you anywhere near me for a while. And delete that picture as promised."

My expectation was a furious confrontation. I was prepared to handle that, but when she spoke with a motherly tone as if I'd simply borrowed the car without permission, that gave me cause for concern.

"We need to talk about this," I said.

She pointed a finger towards the door and said, "Out of my room. We're not speaking about this ever. It never happened."

What bothered me was the fact that it did happen. This wasn't something I could just sweep under the rug and disregard. I observed anxiety in her expression and knew this wasn't a forgettable moment for her either. I was convinced that she would eventually implode, and I feared the repercussions of that. I was determined to discuss it with her to alleviate the troublesome burden of guilt from my mind.

I decided to let it go for now and did as she asked. I rushed to my bedroom.

After closing the door, I sat on the bed and sulked with worry.

***

A few hours later after stewing with my thoughts, I decided to make another attempt to talk with her.

Her bedroom door was closed.

I damn sure wasn't entering unannounced this time. I was about to knock when I heard a faint noise resonate from the opening at the bottom of the door.

I put my ear to the wooden surface. The hollow-core provided an acoustical barrier that reverberated the sound from the interior bedroom.

I heard a muffled buzzing sound barely audible.

Then my mom moaned.

I impulsively broadened my eyes and stumbled back from the door.

Although an unnerving thought rambled in my mind that instant, I shrugged it off as my mom relieving stress provoked by the demoralizing event from earlier. After all, I did interrupt her before she had time to finish.

I returned to my room to grab my keys and then drove to visit my 22-year-old girlfriend named Jen.

***

DAY TWO: REPERCUSSIONS

It was morning. I got dressed for class and then walked to the kitchen.

Mom was there preparing breakfast.

I boldly walked up to her and said, "Hi."

She turned to me and stared for a moment before saying, "Do you want eggs?"

"Are we going to discuss what happened?" I said.

With panic evident in her eyes, she rasped, "Keep your voice down. Your father is getting dressed for work. No, it doesn't require a discussion."

She glared at me while the hand holding the spatula began shaking.

I gently clasped her arm to hold it steady and whispered, "Mom, you're freaking out. It's obvious you're troubled by it. Why won't you talk to me so we can work this out?"

She pulled her arm from my grasp and immediately turned back to the stove.

I watched her frenziedly scrabble the eggs she was cooking.

With her back to me, she mumbled, "Chad, quit staring at me. It was just once, never again, and never to be spoken about. Let it go, I'm fine."

I exclaimed, "No, it's clear you're not. Dad likes his eggs over-easy and you just scrambled the shit out of them. You're avoiding me for some reason. We need to talk about it. I won't be comfortable until I'm confident you're okay."

"Okay with what?" dad said as he walked into the kitchen.

Mom jerked and the spatula flew from her hand onto the stovetop. A small amount of egg dropped to the surface and splattered.

I casually turned to look at him and replied, "I decided to stay home today to help mom around the house. I asked her if it was okay."

Dad exclaimed, "Skipping classes to help with chores, that's highly unusual for you."

"I want to spend time with mom," I replied.

My mother dramatically turned to face me. She glared at me with tightly pressed lips.

Dad chuckled and then said, "Ah, I see now. You two quarreled. That explains why she was tossing and turning in her sleep last night. I doubt she got a wink of rest. It must have been a bad one. Lorene, perhaps spending time with Chad to talk it out wouldn't be a bad thing."

"Exactly," I said with a smile.

She huffed and immediately turned back to the stove and then said, "Sure."

As we sat at the table eating breakfast, mom's conversation consisted of an occasional grunt when responding to my dad's statements or dropping a "Hum," to show interest. Otherwise, she was distant with her gaze locked on her plate, my dad, or the floor. It was evident she was intentionally trying to avoid looking at me. That was not a good sign.

After breakfast, dad left to go to work.

Sitting across from her at the table, I said, "You're troubled about yesterday. We must talk about it."

Mom gave me a stern look and stood up. She snapped, "Never to be discussed ever, we agreed. It's over, please let it go."

She didn't allow me to respond. Leaving the soiled dishes and plates on the table, she hastily left the dining room and scurried down the hallway.

I heard a loud thud as she slammed her bedroom door.

This was my punishment for ejaculating in her mouth. She was avoiding the topic on purpose to provoke misery, so I'd torture myself with concern.

I sat pondering what to do next and then decided I needed to leave the house. I strolled around the mall for a few hours to give her space without my obnoxious presence to trouble her.

***

At noon I drove back home having reached a decision. If she refused to talk to me, I'd just confront her and blabber out what I needed to say and apologize for my actions. I hoped that she'd eventually forgive me for what I'd done.

When I entered the house, I noticed all the dishes on the table had been removed and the kitchen was spotless. Even the floor had been mopped.

Finding her absent in the front part of the house, I crept down the hallway to her bedroom door.