Mother Is an Uptight Redhead

We were in the kitchen. I had shot my load for the second time that morning and had pulled my meat out of my mom's pussy when I heard mom call out, "Hi, Paula, how was last night's movie?" My jaw dropped as I quickly took five steps back across the kitchen tile and ducked into the hall. If Paula was outside somewhere, she would have been looking up to the kitchen window and, with luck, hadn't seen me. My next thought was that mom's apron wasn't covering the upper part of her chest. Seen at an angle from below, she might even appear to be topless.

"It was good. I liked it better than the second Toy Story movie." From the sound of her voice, it sounded like Paula was walking toward our house. That meant she probably had not seen me and didn't know what a mommy-lusting, mommy-fucking pervert I was. But this was definitely a new twist in the game of domination.

"I'll just have to wait for it to come out on DVD," said mom. She wasn't calling out now, so Paula was close by. "How much longer are you in town?" she asked Paula.

"Just until late tonight. I have to catch the red-eye flight home so I can teach a class tomorrow afternoon," she said.

"Well, then, I won't keep you from your time with your mother," said my mom, again with the fake cheerfulness I knew so well. It usually masked the degree that she was judging the person she was talking with. "And tell your mom that last night's dinner was delicious. Junior liked it, too, especially dessert. Have a safe trip home!"

I waited until I heard the screen door slam next door, which meant that Paula had gone into her mom's house. "How could you?" I hissed, not too loud. I could barely control my anger. "Are you crazy, trying to get caught?"

"So what if she knows?" asked Mom, genuinely smiling. "She'll tell her mom? Eileen knows, as you perfectly well know. So what do you care if she knows where you dip your candle?"

"Yeah, but..." I started to say. But what? I couldn't think of what to say next. What would the neighbors think? Yeah, right. And mom and I are both adults, so it's no crime.

"Now eat you pancakes," said my mom. The tone of her voice made it clear that she was done with that conversation. The topic of our mutual sex life did not return to our conversation during our meal. Then she drove me home, like it was any day and we were any other family.

I had a pile of work waiting for me at home and got busy with it. I was getting hungry, thinking about calling for pizza delivery, when the doorbell rang. I looked around the edge of the heavy blue curtains in my living room. I know, pretty upscale for a bachelor in a rental house, but they were there when I moved in. I liked them, because they made sure I had privacy from the street.

The first thing I noticed was the taxi at the curb, with the driver looking at my front door. I glanced to the right, to the steps by my front door, and saw that someone with a suitcase was at my door. I couldn't tell who it was. The doorbell sounded again, this time with long pressure.

Imagine my shock when she stepped back, as if giving up. It was Paula.

I froze. If I didn't go to the door, she'd get in the taxi and leave. That was why the cab driver was waiting, right? She rang the bell again. A million thoughts went through my mind, not the least of which was the deciding one. My one encounter with Paula, years before, was one of the best fucks of my life. Here she was, ringing my doorbell. Opportunity apparently does arrive twice.

I went to the door and opened it. "Hey, Junior," she said, big grin on her face and a twinkle in her eyes behind her nerdy glasses. She was wearing a dumpy gray sweatshirt with the name of the college where she teaches, jeans, and comfortable slip-on shoes. "Can we chat?"

"Sure. Have you had dinner? I was about to have some."

Paula stepped in, depositing the suitcase just inside the door. She turned and waved at the taxi, and it pulled away and drove off.

"How are you?" I started to ask, and she cut me off with a practiced school-teacher voice.

"Let's get to the point," she said. "I'm going to the airport. Give me a ride and save me the further thirty bucks for the cab and I'll pay you in trade." I felt my jaw drop a little, and my eyes widen. Was I completely surrounded by crazy women? I was certainly surrounded by women who had strong ideas about what I should do with myself.

She looked me in the eye, and then let her eyes wander around the room. They fixed on a spot just slightly behind me, and she grinned broadly. "Were you expecting company?" she asked, laughing. It was quite a girlish laugh. Not the usual prim Paula, as I thought of her.

I realized that she was looking where I'd laid out the sex toys, thinking mom was coming to my place, and they were still right there, in plain sight on the coffee table.

I'm sure I looked like a total idiot at that moment. "Don't say anything, Junior," she said, chuckling. "I know you're a well-greased fuck-toy. Your mom was still at my house when I got home from the movies, and I heard plenty."

"Jeez!" I sputtered. "Do you women share everything?"

"Oh, no, I came in the back, quietly, and listened. I heard your mom bragging how she'd have you pop Viagra before she'd fuck you this morning," Paula explained, almost as if giving a lecture to students. I wanted to pull a blackboard from the closet for her to make a diagram. She continued, "If you want to know more, the deal is that you take a Viagra now. I'm sure the one you used on your mom has worn off now." She looked at me. She had the look of a bored sales clerk who was waiting to hear what you wanted. There was no warmth in her offer.

But I couldn't lose in this deal. "Sure, Paula," I said, "Let me get a pill. You know it takes a little while to work."

"I told you I have a few hours," she said in her flat response, as if explaining something to a very dull child.

I went to the bathroom, took a pill, and came back.

"Here's the deal," she told me. Show me what's on your computer. Show me a porn site you go to when you jerk off. We'll look at that for a little while."

"Okay," I answered. "In here." I took her in the spare bedroom, which is my study with the computer, where I'd been working all afternoon. I didn't have to hunt around. I had a few sites bookmarked. I have some that I've joined under different names. I sat at my desk and pulled up a site called "Smutty," where my handle is Fatviagracock. I like it because it's easy to sort things by their descriptions. Milf, titfuck, that sort of thing. I logged in, and went to a page of images that were of women's buttocks, either thrust in the air, doggystyle, or thrust up by high heels. "How about anal?" I asked her.

"That's so sweet of you to remember," Paula said, with another girlish laugh. She wasn't really an ice queen. But of course I knew that.

She pointed to an image of a middle-aged woman bent over a bed, shoving her ass high in the air. Her buttocks were glistening with some kind of lube, and a HUGE cock was poised to enter he puckered anal opening. "Tell me about that one. I see you tagged as a 'like'," she said. "She looks a little older than you, Junior." She was standing behind me. Without any prompt from me, she was suddenly making some kind of motion behind me. I twisted my head to look. She was pulling her sweatshirt over her head. To my surprise, she was wearing a tiny, tiny black bra. She didn't have an especially large rack, and I hadn't seen her breasts in years. I was shocked to see a tattoo, in green ink, vertical across her left breast top. It was a mermaid swimming forward, head toward her cleavage, with the mermaid's mouth wrapped around a dildo. It was carefully placed. As long as Paula avoided wearing low-cut blouses or anything else with a lot of cleavage, no one was going to see it.

She could see I was staring at the tattoo. "It's not the only one. They're kind of addictive," Paul told me. "Be a good junior and tell me about that picture and maybe you'll see my tramp stamp."

I'd forgotten our game in the moment, and looked back at the screen. "Why do you like that one?" she asked again.

"Because she reminds me of my mom," I explained. "But you already guessed that."

"Yes, but I like to hear you say it," said Paula. "Scroll down the page slowly and let me see some more. Because of what I heard our mom's talking about, I waited after breakfast until your mom's car drove up. You two went inside, and after a while I saw your mom in the kitchen. So I went upstairs and looked out the bathroom window, where we can see down into your kitchen. It looked like your mom wasn't wearing anything but an apron, but she wasn't by the window very much so I couldn't really see. But I did see you come in and cross the kitchen, and you were naked. So I went outside and walked over by your kitchen window. It was open a little, and I could hear some pretty filthy shit coming out of your mouth when you fucked her."

Paula's story surprised me, but hearing her prim voice say "shit" was the biggest of those surprises! Here she was, playing a sex game, but that one word seemed too out of character.

She made me explain why I liked several of the other images on the page, and why I didn't like some others.

"OOOH! I like that one! Scroll back," Paula squealed. It was another girlish sound. There was a side to this girl that she did her best to suppress. I was starting to realize that that was true of women in general.

I scrolled back up until she said, "THERE!"

It was an image of a woman of about 20, standing, ass facing the camera, pushing a black dildo into her anus. "Do you think a cock as fat as yours will fit into her other hole with that bad boy in her ass?" asked Paula. "As I remember it, you cock is a wide one."

"With enough lube and a little patience, most things are possible," I told her, grinning. She looked me in the eye and grinned back. A bulge in my pants was growing bigger. I liked her games.

"Let's see you toy collection," she invited me. I need no more invite, and got up and we went back to the living room.

I expected her to go for the big red dildo. I thought we'd play the game she'd just suggested. Instead, she picked up the strap-on that I'd bought some years ago. I'd bought it to use on my girlfriend, thinking I'd warm her up with it before fucking her. That was before I had pills that kept me hard for a long time. But Molly had taken one look at it and it was never put into play.

"How many times has this been up your ass?" Paula asked, eyes widening.

"Never," I answered. "That's the one for ass play." I pointed to a smaller, curved dildo that was good for massaging my prostate.

"Not tonight junior," she said. Paula kicked off her shoes. Her feet were bare. She grabbed the top of her pants on either side and pulled them downward as she lifted her right foot. She stepped out of the pants leg, then did the same with the left. She was wearing tiny back lace panties that matched her bra. There was another tattoo visible now: a mermaid's tail rising up, out of her crotch. The mermaid's head was somewhere down in there, out of sight.

She picked up the strapped dildo. She faced it forward, leaned forward, and in a swift motion stepped into it with one foot and then another. She'd hadn't taken any time to figure it out, which told me all I needed to know about her sexual expertise with this particular toy. She lifted the straps to her waist so that the hard fat rod was shooting from her pelvis at a 45 degree angle. She fumbled, finding how to tighten the strap for her waist, but after a moment she was tightening it. She was ready.

She picked up the jar of Vaseline. "Strip, junior, and position yourself over the barstool," she commanded with a firm voice. I kept two such stools at the kitchen counter. She understood their primary use. I pulled a stool clear of the counter. I took off my clothes. She evaluated me as I did so, as if she was trying to decide if the fish in the display case was fresh enough. I wasn't too embarrassed. I hadn't let myself go to the dogs since college, when she'd last gotten a good look at my body. "No warm ups?" I asked her.

"I think not," she said in a voice that didn't invite argument.

I faced away from her and lowered my abdomen on the stool, then leaned farther forward, reached down, and grabbed two legs of the stool near the floor with either hand. My arched back left my ass hanging in the air. Paula walked over and hit the inside of my heel with her foot. "Move your feet out," she commanded. I obeyed. I heard to metallic clang of the Vaseline lid on the floor. I heard her walk behind me, into the kitchen. From the corner of my eye I could see that she was getting a towel from the rack. As she walked back toward me, her right hand was wrapped around the strap-on's artificial cock, rubbing the lube up and down generously. She threw the towel onto the middle of my back. "Relax as much as you can," she said.

She was fast.

As I was releasing the tension in my shoulders, I felt the coldness of the dildo at my asshole. I could barely feel it as pressure when I felt the rush of pain as she shoved it against the resistance of my sphincter muscles. It was good that I was gripping something. It wasn't that she shoved fast. It was that she shoved steady. The pain at the opening was followed by the warm rush of further pain that swept into my rectum. I grunted with pain. She paused, not because of the grunt but because the strap-on was well into me. "This is a big one you bought," she said, with a hint of approval. I felt one her hands in the middle of my lower back, palm pressing down, and then I felt her other hand reach down around the right side of my ass and up again, where she fumbled for a moment until her hand found my cock. Her right hand was smeared with the Vaseline she'd used to lube the big dildo that was now inside me. She roughly squeezed my cock, which had gone somewhat soft. She stroked it. Hard and with firm command. She didn't move the dildo, but held still while her hand jerked me. "Let's see if it's fat like I remember," Paula said. And it was indeed starting to get hard and fat. "That's it, that's a good boy. There are women in this world besides mamma," she continued. "You need to broaden your interests, junior. Now take it like you're my bitch."

Soon, I was hard as a rock from the movement of her hand and the dirty talk, and she slowly moved her hips back and withdrew the rod most of its length. While she pulled back, she loosened her grip on my penis. As I felt her hand tighten on my cock again, gripping me but not moving, I also felt the dildo drive into my ass with a steady, slow motion. It was not really pain any more. It was the satisfying feeling of being open and exposed and very full of someone else who was in control. One hard push forward and there would be pain again, but Paula seemed to know when to stop pushing. When she did stop, she gave my cock three long strokes, keeping it fully erect. Then the hand went steady, gripping without stroking, the dildo withdrew, and the pattern was established. Stroke. Stop. Withdraw. Grip. Push in. Stop. Stroke Stroke Stroke. Repeat.

I wasn't counting. There were maybe ten cycles of this exquisite sense of being filled and then stroked. But this was the fourth time I'd had sex in twenty-four hours. I wasn't going to come right away.

Then Paula stopped and with a sudden, delicious movement, pulled the strap-on from my ass. "You've been a good, boy, Junior, but don't get up just yet." There was genuine pleasure in her voice. "If you'll do as I say, I'll take my turn bending over the stool, and you can get your rocks off however you want."

"What's the catch?" I asked.

"You have to keep this in your ass the whole time," she answered. She leaned down and picked up a rather fat dildo that was on the coffee table. It was dildo that had been in my ass many times while I lay on the couch, jerking off to porn movies. She scooped a little more Vaseline from the jar and smeared it over the business end of the dildo. Then she thrust it into my ass, still gaping open from the strap-on. "Hold it there with one hand," she commanded, "and you can fuck me how you want."

I reached back around with my left hand and grabbed the base of the dildo so it stayed deep in my ass. Then I stood up. Without a word, Paula bent over the stool and grabbed the lower portion of two legs. Then she spread her legs. She was still wearing the strap-on, but it was dangling between the stool's legs. I had access to both pussy and ass. With my left hand occupied, I felt her firm ass with my right hand, ran my fingers down the beautiful crack of her ass, and pushed my middle fingers into the middle of her crotch. She was excited, because her cunt was quite wet. My cock was still stiff and I pushed into the waiting slit.

"Yes, Junior!" she said with some excitement, a slight squeal in her voice. "Fuck me like you fuck my mommy and your mommy! Show me that you're a cock-service for women! Be my toy, too!" While she said it, Paula pushed her ass back toward me, so I drove deep into her wetness.

I liked the way she was taunting me. Paula was far more reciprocal in her roleplaying than my mom. It made up for the fact that my cock wasn't getting all that much pleasure from Paula. I just didn't have all that much to give. But I pushed hard, and steady, and then I felt my sphincter loosen on the dildo filling my ass when I finally shot a few drops of semen into Paula.

When I pulled out of her, she turned her head and playfully looked me in the eye and said, "My turn to finish up." She loosened the waist strap of the strap-on, and guided it to the floor. She walked to the coffee table, picked up a small hand-held vibrator, and fell back onto the couch. Paula spread her legs and put the vibrator to her clit. She threw her head back and closed her eyes. She didn't make much noise while she came. But her mouth fell open and she started to breathe more loudly, and she arched her back. After about a minute, she pulled the vibrator away and sat there, very still. When she finally opened her eyes, she looked at me and smiled. "Let's shower, then we can stop for something to eat on the way to the airport," she proposed. "It will be like a first date."