Session 2
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Since then, things had gotten, uh, weirder.
Mom had always been touchy feely, but here lately, it was...different somehow.
Those special hugs became a regular thing. And I embraced her warmth. She started reaching around me more, like to point out questions. The other day, she taught me almost entirely while standing behind me.
Then one day, when I came down for breakfast and morning lessons, she only had one spot laid out: Hers. In front of her normal seat were all my books, and even two plates of food. She scooted her chair out and patted her lap.
I sat down gingerly at first, kind of crossways on her lap. But she reached in between my legs and pulled my thigh wide open, which worked my body around until I was balanced on a single one of her legs. Then she wiggled her thigh side to side, working my ass cheeks open. I guess to settle me in? She kept going for far longer than what was comfortable.
I wore only pajama bottoms. She wore short cotton shorts which stretched around her thick thighs. And when she stopped wiggling, my cheeks hugged around either side of her leg.
My asshole, separated by only a couple strips of fabric, scraped against the top of her thigh. She ignored this and opened my history book. "What were the underlying tensions of the War of 1812?"
And then, that became our new routine. I weighed maybe a buck thirty dripping wet, which clearly she could handle because I'd sit like that all day. When I'd get up to go to the bathroom or something, my spot would be waiting for me once again. I'd sit down and Mom would part my ass cheeks just the same, every single time.
It--it started fucking with my head.
I vented to my friends on Discord. Most just said something like "Bro, your mom wants to fuck you." "Goddamn, and I thought my family was fucked."
But then one person DM'd me. "What did it feel like?"
I texted back, "please, I'm really confused and don't know what to do. Don't make fun of me."
"I'm not. Just curious."
This really caught me off guard and for one big reason: "No offence, but it's weird talking to another dude about that."
The response came slow. Eleven minutes later, the reply came. It wasn't a text reply but instead, a pic: Two small breasts hidden by a leather corset. Her belly was exposed through the lacings, a perfect six-pack of feminine curves, and when my eyes trailed downward, just a hint of a bush peeked out over her desk. And if that message wasn't clear enough, she wrote "what did it feel like? I'm curious" right across her bare skin in marker, just above her partially exposed nethers.
The picture cut off just above her breasts. I couldn't see her face, but something about that body nagged at the back of my mind. Also, the darkened dorm behind her appeared familiar.
I almost asked to see her face, but dear God, I was talking to an actual woman, one who was interested in my sex life--
--wait. Sex life?--
Fuck, I was too excited to dwell on those implications right now, so I text back the only thing I could: "It felt so wrong."
"As it should. Were your balls on her knee?"
"Uh...yeah."
"Did you have an erection?"
"Uh...yeah."
"Were you wearing jeans?"
"I...uh...no. I was wearing pajama bottoms."
"Every day?"
"Everyday."
"So you liked it then?"
"Uh...I don't want to talk about this anymore. But thanks for not being a dick."
"Wait wait wait. What'd you do about your erection?"
I didn't answer. That truth was far too embarrassing. I'd--I'd been taping my dick back to my stomach. All I could find the first time was masking tape, which was useless. Then I dug some duct tape out of Dad's toolbox. But when I started sweating down there, it lost its stickiness and peeled off, springing my erection free. It was so loud. I'm sure Mom heard it because I was, of course, sitting on her lap at the time, but like normal, she pretended not to notice and continued on with her lesson in asexual reproduction in amoebas.