My Addiction
I just stood in shock and watched, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the laundry basket. Jesus, how could any one man produce that much? I heard him softly grunt as that long thick rope ejected straight up into the air.
Just like women, men have different orgasms. Some men ooze or dribble, some men it flows out; and some few can actually squirt. This was not squirting; this was a damned cannon volley as it rocketed up out the tip and into the air.
What made things worse was the fact I was soaking my panties as I stared at such an unbelievable sight. I heard him grunt again, and God help me if a second thick rope didn't follow the first. Compounding things was what he had just grunted before the second volley spewed out.
When I heard that soft grunt of 'mom' I thought I was going to scream. My throat tightened, my grip tightened; and my panties turned into a fucking swamp. I staggered back from the half open door and down the hall to the master bedroom. I dropped the laundry basket on the floor and my hand was down my jeans in a flash.
Hell, I didn't even make it to the bed. I stood in the middle of the bedroom and jammed two fingers up my soaked pussy, hearing the obscene wet squelch as they drove deep.
"Fuckkkk" I groaned softly.
Images roared through my head as I pounded my fingers viciously into my pussy. Images that to most would have been degrading or humiliating; but only inflamed me further; the image of that fountain splattering across my face, or dripping down my tits.
"Oh shit" I grunted as my orgasm slammed home within minutes.
Hot juices flooded over my hand as my body shook and vibrated. I knew then I was in trouble, very deep trouble. I had just masturbated to a massive orgasm from watching my son jerk off.
I'm a single mother; I have been since my son was born nineteen years ago. Not because I had to for him; but because I choose to; for him AND me. Having a man was not something I really felt the forced need for. We had done just fine all these years; and perhaps one day I would find that special someone, but it just wasn't a huge priority.
I'm thirty-seven; and yes if you do the math that meant I had my son when I was eighteen. No it wasn't planned, but I wouldn't change a single thing in my life. Who am I? I'm an ex-PTA mom, a member of my church women's group, and a volunteer at a local food bank.
I'm also a senior teller at a local bank, a single mom...and a cum addict. That's right, a cum addict. It's how I got pregnant. I love cum; I love swallowing it, I love tasting it, I love wearing it, I love cum...period. The first time I had sex I was hooked, to the point I let an older man pour his hot load into my fertile belly, and BOOM; there was my son.
I had managed to control the addiction to a certain extent the last number of years. I dated, and got my regular fix; rotating who I dated so it wasn't as obvious. Until today that is. It had been a long time since I had seen a man cum that much and that powerfully; a VERY long time. Just the thought of that hot...thick...slimy seed...fuck I was doing it again. I jammed my fingers deeper, trying to shove my entire fist up my dripping cunt as I ravaged myself to the images.
As a second orgasm shorted out my logic circuits, I only knew one thing...I wanted that cum. I wanted it...I needed it...I craved having it shot all over my face and body. The fact this was my son had long departed my brain as my addiction gripped my body like it hadn't in ages. I was going to get that cum, I realized; I just needed to figure out how.
It was two days later that my fevered brain came up with an idea. I had fingered myself at least twice a day if not more since first seeing him. That night I tossed and turned in my bed after three massive orgasms. I should have been exhausted, but my body was on fire. I rose from my bed and padded to the bathroom, pulling the sleeping pills out of the medicine cabinet. I rarely used them, but on nights like this they were a Godsend.
I popped one pill in my mouth and drew a glass of water at the sink. I only took one as they usually hit me like a brick wall after about a half an hour. As I set the glass on the counter, I looked at myself in the mirror.
What are you becoming? I thought. It was like I was eighteen and uncontrollable again. I sighed and picked up the bottle of pills to put them back. My eyes landed on the bottle, my brain clicked; and I shivered.
I couldn't...I wouldn't...I stared at my face in the mirror. That face simply nodded back at me. Yes, tomorrow night...one pill...in his pop he drank at night while he played his computer game. It was too easy, too simple; and yet it could actually work.
The next night, after dinner; he did the dishes for me as he usually did every night. I headed upstairs for my evening shower...just like normal. I pulled a single pill from the bottle and slipped into his room, dropping the pill into his half drank pop can sitting on his desk, and then retreated to my room.
I berated myself for sinking so low that I would give my son a sleeping pill. But the thought of that geyser lingered in my mind. After he headed to bed, I lingered downstairs claiming to watch a movie. It was Friday so staying up later was easy. I waited...and waited. I debated...I debated more. Finally I hung my head in shame and about midnight headed up the stairs. I was intent on just going to bed, and not let this thing gain control again.
But, it was like my body said one thing while my brain another. The next thing I knew I was standing in front of his bedroom door, staring at him asleep in his bed. He was on his back, only a sheet over him, and the pale light from the hall leaked into his room.
I stepped to the side of his bed and looked down, that ended any resistance I had. My eyes traveled down his bare chest, tracing the contours of his abs and chiseled pectorals. Jesus when did he turn into such a hunk of man meat, I wondered. I leaned down and plucked at the edge of his sheet.
Maybe I would get lucky, and he would be wearing his shorts. I had no idea how to get those down without waking him. Then, the sheet slid lower; and there it was. God help me he was sleeping nude. I swore the Gods were conspiring against me as that flaccid tube slid into view. Soft it lay across his belly surrounded by brown curls of hair. I figured it was about six inches soft; which meant he was probably somewhere between seven and eight inches hard. Not huge, but not small; a respectable length.
Without hesitating, I wrapped my hand around that stalk as I eased down onto the bed beside him. I glanced at his desk and saw the now empty can in his recycle trash can; he had drunk the entire thing.
I softly called his name and tapped his shoulder with no reply; at least not an awake reply. I did feel him respond as that shaft thickened and lengthened in my grip as blood filled it.
"Oh God" I whispered softly as he hardened in my grip.
Like any virile nineteen years old, it only took a handful of strokes and that thing was throbbing hard against my palm. I thrilled as I watched a drop of pre cum seep from the tip. That's it baby, I thought, cum for momma.
I leaned down and swiped my tongue across the tip, moaning softly as I tasted that salty drop. I was hooked, I was done; as I opened my mouth and slid the engorged head in.
"Nnnnnnnn" I heard him moan as I softly sucked the top of his cock.
His hips began to move in time to my mouth. God, even asleep he was fucking my mouth like a pro. I picked up speed, swirling my tongue over his pisshole. I didn't want to waste too much time, I WANTED that cum.
Then it hit. I heard him give that tell take soft grunt, I felt his cock jerk in my grip. I popped my mouth free and hovered my face over his pulsing dick, waiting. I was not disappointed as he shot the first round like coming out of a rifle barrel.
"Ghuu" I heard him grunt as the first thick volley splattered across my face.
I slid my hand down his shaft, cupping his balls, gently massaging the sack as I felt them contract a second time.
"Mom" I heard a soft gasp as a second wad rocketed against my lips and chin, dripping down onto my neck.
I looked down, not realizing I had tilted his cock, and watched as a third smaller stream ejected out and land on my cloth covered breasts. I could feel the warm fluids seep into the thin cloth and cling to my skin.
I heard him give a soft sigh, and worried he might awaken, I gently lay his softening cock back on his belly, sliding the sheet back up to hide that magnificent tool. I rose to my feet and in a half haze walked back to my bedroom.
In the dark, stretched out on my bed, I did the unthinkable. I reached up and began to smear the sticky fluids into my skin. Rubbing it across my face and neck, and then smearing it down across my upper chest. I could smell him as it clung to my skin; tentatively I extended my tongue and tasted his tart load, reveling in the flavor.
There was no doubt in my mind that my addiction was back in full force, and the perfect source was right down the hall. The fact it was my son only made the craving more. That sense of the forbidden, the hidden hunger only made me want it more. I knew it was wrong, I knew it was dangerous. I was a middle aged woman, what would he want or see in me. That he called for me both times he came had shocked me; but I had no illusions.
I am a thirty-seven year old mother. I'm not some trim and fit nineteen year old. My hips flare wider, my ass is bigger and my 36C's hang down more than they rise up. How was I to compete with some college tart? I tried to not have a repeat...I made three days and I slipped another pill into his drink.
This time, as I felt that thick shaft pulse, the first rocket of hot seed battered the back of my throat as I sucked the head in deep. God he tasted good. I enjoyed sex; I mean I LIKE the sensation of a hard cock filling me. But when I discovered sucking cock, I was in love. Having that thing squirting hot slime down my throat like some dime store slut; had sent a shudder through me.
Sitting on the edge of my son's bed, while he pumped my mouth full of hot seed, sent a gush of hot juices between my thighs. I didn't even have to touch myself and I was cumming.
For the next almost two weeks, I was in heaven. About every third night, I would slip a sleeping pill into his drink; and then go to his room later to bathe myself in his hot seed. I had forgone my nightgown, instead feeling that cream pulse across my breasts and face.
Once I even stood while I jerked that hard cock, feeling it thicken in my grip, watching the head engorge and when I felt it begin to throb, I stood by the edge of his bed and waited. The first jet arched through the air and splattered across my belly, sending a shiver through me. I stood there, half bent over watching, as a second thick rope exploded from the tip, this time spraying across my lower belly, hot white globs clinging to the fur of my mound.
He was cumming on my pussy, I thought. I had the horrific urge to throw a leg over his sleeping form, and slide down that pulsing pole. I held myself in check, barely; the sleeping pill wasn't that strong and the risk was too great.
Instead I stretched out on my own bed, slid my fingers through my coated mound, gathering those thick globs on my fingers; and then shoved them as deep into my gut as I could.
The orgasm that roared through me dwarfed what I had felt before. I gurgled and whimpered as I pumped my son's virile seed into my pussy. I came harder than I had in over a decade. I knew I wanted his cum inside me, but I had no idea how to even start telling him. The thing was; I didn't have to.
