A slimy Discovery
"That's it. Grab those three tubs up there." I said to my now grown son. This was his last week at home and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to put him to use.
The kid had accumulated way too much junk, and since he was heading off to Europe to begin a four year study abroad program I decided that it was time to do some much needed downsizing, starting by tossing out his old kiddy stuff.
"And that one too-" I pointed to a beat up plastic container that was plastered with yellow and black caution tape. It had stickers that said poison, hazardous materials, and biohazard scattered all around it.
"Hold on! God Mom, I only have two hands." He wiggled on the step ladder as he dug back into the shelf. It wobbled, and a plastic tub came tumbling down, spilling its contents onto his bedroom floor.
He fell down quickly after, landing with a grunt.
I had the reflexes of a snail, and did nothing to catch him.
"Oh baby?!"
"I'm fine." He said.
And he was.
I laughed, and tousled his hair like I did when he was little. "Is my widdle pumkin gunna be okay." I baby-talked. "Did my widdle baby-boy get a boo-boo on his bum-bum."
He playfully swatted my hand away, and turned his backside toward me shaking it playfully. "What, are you going to kiss it better?" He joked, righting the ladder and climbing back up it to get the remaining boxes.
I playfully smacked his tushy, and then began gathering up the mess that had spilled out of the tub.
Random sized and shaped containers, plastic vials, wooden stirrers, notepads, and papers had been scattered across the floor. A flakey mess of crusty dried up gunk covered everything.
"Oh, your old slime box." I said, picking up a few random cup sized containers with various primary colored lids.
"Unicorn slime?" I asked, reading the label on the top of the blue lid. "Looks more like a chunk of unicorn horn if you ask me." I shook the container and the hardened chunk of ancient slime rattled around inside. "You know, the Physiologus says that a unicorn can only be caught if a virgin maiden was placed before it."
"I know, you told me that when we made the stuff." He quickly hopped down and placed the other boxes he had retrieved on the ground.
"Mutant Slime? I don't remember that." The half opened lid was askew, dribbles had leaked out and were now hardened bright green pieces of toxic looking plastic.
"A solo experiment." He laughed. Snatching it out of my hands.
I continued picking up more little cups, reading each label aloud as I tossed them back into the sticker covered box.
Black Ooze. Toss.
Fluffy Slime. Toss.
My son pretended to help me clean up the mess, but I saw that he grabbed a notebook, sliding it suspiciously behind him.
"Oh look!" I stopped when I picked up a large tub, only a little brick rattled around inside as I shook the container too and fro. "White Slime!". The hand written label was covered by a red sticker that said 'Top Secret'.
"Looks like it got all used up, huh?"
My son's face went red, and he tried to slyly maneuver the notebook further out of sight.
"What's that?" I asked. Curious. Oblivious.
"Nuthin," He said. "Probably just recipes I guess. C'mon This stuff is so old, let's toss it all."
"Oh we will, believe me - but c'mon I want to see your cute little hand writing." I snaked out a hand and snatched the notebook out from under him before he could say no.
He slammed a hand down, but only managed to snag the corner. A few stray sheets of paper tore as I tugged.
"No, mom!" he grunted in defeat.
"Aw, my pumpy-wumpkin doesn't want his me to wook at his top secwet fings-" I engaged my mommy voice again while rifling through the crusty notebook. Many of the pages were stuck together and it flopped open like an ancient mythological tome. Each cluster of papers were thick and crinkled.
This kid was no archivist that was for sure.
I stopped on a faded picture that had been masking taped down in the center of the page. It had been printed from an inkjet printer onto glossy photo quality paper, and now the colors were dull. Ink bled in numerous places where something watery had splattered. The face was completely bleached, and ink spread outward around the largest of the wet marks.
The picture was almost completely wrecked but I could make out words on an old forest green apron, my old forest green apron. 'Messy Moms Make Good Moms', were accented with a little blob of white slime.
Underneath the picture, written in bold permanent marker were three giant capital words. 'MOMMY'S SECOND BATCH'. Underneath there was a cute curly font which read 'Mommy wants you to give her a special recipe!"
My heart thumped loudly. I swallowed and stared.
My son snatched the notebook out of my hands and threw it into the plastic tub.
"I, uh. That's not what you're thinking-"
Even though I had never seen the picture he took of me - I knew what this crusty sticky page full of cum splatters was. And it aroused me. A wave of heat coursed through my entire body.
I had become quite the facial enthusiast over the years, and thousands of images had brought me to orgasm. I myself had a large collection of carefully curated treasures stored in a private folder on my laptop, tablet and phone. Although I had never been a participant in such a glorious act, I yearned for, dreamt of, and fantasized about a man cumming on my willing desperate face. I longed to feel it, smell it, taste it and more.
Those splatters, those streaks. It was obvious. My son had washed away my face with his ejaculate. And now his crustified sperm had glued the pages together.
Some would have called my son's beautifully messy temple to me a twisted oedipus complex, but as an expert in my field I knew it was something more nuanced - like Shiva and Mahādevī or Sikhalól and his Mother-wife.
I understood my son's fascination, and I felt it too.
My pussy began to moisten.
"Mommy's Second Batch?" I arched my eyebrow and gave him a wicked good smile. A smile that said tell me more.
"I. It. Uh. Well when-"
The frantic little guy was speechless.
"Shhhh" I touched his thigh. "It's okay. I know what this is and there's no need to be embarrassed."
"No, you don't un-"
