Noises Through the Wall

All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older. Thanks for reading!

*

To my surprise, I felt no shame for what I did with Christopher. My frustration and excitement pushed such civilized thoughts from my mind. I had manipulated my teenage son's hefty penis to completion. The image of his hot stuff spewing out of him returned to me again and again. I woke up in the middle of the night and played that release over in my mind. While my husband snored next to me, I reached down and diddled myself to a small orgasm before falling back asleep.

While taking my morning shower, my son's eruption came back to my mind again. Even though the bathroom door was open, I reached down and rubbed my button. I knew my husband was dressing in the next room, but I couldn't stop myself.

"Everything okay, dear?" My husband poked his head into the bathroom, and I froze. "It sounds like you're breathing kind of funny." His voice was casual and mildly inquisitive.

"I'm... fine..." I was so close to an orgasm. He was really killing my buzz. It should have occurred to me that I could just hop out of the shower, and we could have morning sex like I imagined any healthy wife would do. But even as he stood there, my mind played my son's spasming body on repeat. "Go down to... breakfast, Carl. I'll be there... shortly," I panted.

"Okey doke."

Through the water splattered glass, I could see his silhouette disappear from the doorway. My hand went right back to my box. It was his fault anyway. Since I'd first heard Gwen and Christopher in the basement, I had given Carl plenty of opportunity to scratch my new itch. And whether it was his age, or his tool, he just wasn't up to the task. Having heard Gwen's frenzied cries of pleasure, I suspected that Christopher's eighteen years and nine inches were more than up to the task. As his mother, he would never let me confirm my suspicions. Although he would probably let me finish him with my hands again. The thought of it sent me over the edge. I shuddered out my climax in the shower.

My son barely made eye contact with me that morning. Like I imagined any good mother would do in my shoes, I tried to make him comfortable by pretending everything was quite normal. I think I fooled my husband, but Christopher raced off to school without even eating his croissant. And he usually loves those. The second they were both out of the house, I raced upstairs to my bedroom, closed the blinds, and put a towel on the bed. You can guess what I did for the next couple hours. And I'm pretty sure you know what I thought about while doing it.

I masturbated twice more that day. Once while listening to Christopher and Gwen hump on the other side of the basement wall, and one final time in the shower after I had worked Christopher to completion again that night. A sperm-soaked towel lay in the bathroom hamper just feet from where I was furiously massaging my vagina. That was the first night I brought a towel with me down to his room when I pleasured him. And I did so every night thereafter. That way I didn't have to worry about the mess.

For a couple weeks, that was my routine. My son seemed to look forward to our nightly visits. He had a sparkle in his eye every night when I arrived. And he always said thank you when I finished him off.

I did keep asking him questions about what he and Gwen were up to. Both as a pretense for the handjobs, and also because it spurred my excitement to imagine that I was eighteen again, my son was my boyfriend, and it was my vagina he lost himself in, not Gwen's. I had been hoping that maybe this would satisfy me. That if he splooged enough times in my hands, I maybe wouldn't need to have what Gwen had. But instead, this was winding me up further.

"Christopher, sweetie?" I was on my knees one night, working his thing steadily with my hands.

"Yeah, Mom?" His usually smart, composed face looked a bit dopey as I helped him approach his completion. I was used to that expression by now. But some light returned to his eyes when he heard my voice. He looked down at me like I was the best mother in the world. And who's to say I wasn't? It's not like Candice Johnson was doing this for her son down the block.

"I've been thinking, Chris." I knew it was time to give up the game of make believe we'd been playing. I wasn't doing this to make sure he was being safe with Gwen. That was a ridiculous notion, dashed to pieces by the last few weeks of activity. Christopher was an intelligent young man, he must have known I was into what we were doing. "I wonder if you would like to see my breasts." I worked hard to keep the tremor out of my voice. "I'm obviously not a teenager anymore, so I'll have a different body than Gwen. But maybe it would be nice for you to look while I do this for you?"

"Really... ugh... I don't know." Christopher's penis grew even larger in my hands and I could see his heavy testicles contracting. He was going to orgasm any minute.

"Remember all those years ago, when Mrs. Johnson and I would take a dip in the hot tub at her house and you would play with her son?" I had him right on the edge.

"Ooohhhhhh... Mom." His arms were trembling now. Apparently, this was a treasured memory. I thought it might be.

"Mrs. Johnson insisted that our husbands go out, and that she and I soak in the nude. We stopped doing those weekly hot tub nights because I saw the way you looked at me when I undressed. It made me uncomfortable." I picked up the towel and put it on his thigh, getting ready. "Don't think I didn't notice when you went up to Timmy's room and watched us from the window. I saw you watching Mrs. Johnson's boobs bobbing in the water, but I also saw you ogling mine. I couldn't have you spying on me." I sighed as I realized what this made me. "Turns out I'm a hypocrite."

"Why... ugh... Hypocrite... ugh... Mom?" Christopher was grunting now. It thrilled me to hear the deep, manly sounds of satisfaction coming from my sweet guy.

"Never mind." I wasn't about to tell him I'd been spying on him! "Just let it out now." I flung the towel over his penis and pumped hard with both hands. He cried out, convulsed, and his warmth trickled over my fingers. I wiped off my hands and then cleaned him up with the towel. He stared glassy eyed at me as I did this. I stood up, but I couldn't leave, could I? He had finished, but no one likes a tease. "Like I said before, I don't have the body of a teenager." I wiped my hands one last time on my yoga pants, stalling. Then, I lifted up my shirt, pulled it over my head, and put it neatly on his bed. I held my breath.

"Shit, Mom, I can't... believe... you're doing this." His eyes went very round. Despite his recent exertions, his thing looked very hard. A little bit of sperm leaked out of the top of his penis while he stared. My bra was the boring, supportive type, but he gazed at me like I was wearing the lingerie my husband had bought me for Christmas.

I reached behind my back and found the clasp. I finally exhaled. "Ready, sweetie?" I unhooked the straps and removed the bra, while deftly sliding my arm in front of my boobs. I dropped the bra, but continued to hide my breasts. Well, sometimes people do like a tease. Slowly, very slowly, I removed my arm. My eyes were fixed on his. But his gaze was laser focused on my chest. His mouth fell and his eyes got wider still. Something I hadn't felt in years settled over me as I released one boob, and then the other. I felt sexy. How could I not when this attractive young man drooled at me?

"Fuck... Mom..."

"Watch your language, mister." I frowned. That wasn't the response I'd wanted. Had I misread his look? "You don't like them?" I was seconds away from covering back up. "Are they too saggy?"

"No, no, no." He suddenly looked very alarmed. "They're not saggy at all. I mean, they hang, but... I don't know... they're big... like I remember them from Tim's house. From the hot tub... floating..." He looked up into my face. I could tell he was worried he'd ruined the moment and I'd put them away. And he almost had with his bad language. But his exuberance showed me how much he liked them, even if words failed him.

"So, you do like them?" I reached down, hefted them up, and let them drop on my chest. I watched his gaze snap back down to my boobs. A warm, tingling sensation spread through me. I had forgotten how good it felt to be desired.

"Yes. They're perfect." He reached over on his desk for his phone. "Could I take a picture? I'd love to be able to look at them whenever --"

"Not on your life!" I laughed, picked up the sperm-soaked towel, and whipped it at his penis playfully. "Next thing I know, I'll be on the internet. Or you'll say..." I lowered my voice in a bad imitation of Christopher, "... hey Gwen, you want to see my mom's tits." I pitched my voice back up to its normal octave, "No pictures. Not ever." I walked over to his closet, dropped the towel into his laundry hamper, and then turned to stand next to the bed. I was very aware of how my bare breasts shook as I walked.

"Sure, sorry." He pushed the phone away from him on his desk. "Well, can I just look at them for a while?"

"Sure." I sat down on the bed, keeping my back very straight, and put my arms by my sides. "How do they compare to Gwen's?"

"They're... um... different." Christopher reached out his right hand and stroked his penis. I don't think he was even aware he was doing it. Frankly, I was a little surprised he could masturbate. Carl had always been a one and done sort of guy, and I'd thought that all men were like that. It is quite possible that I had made a bunch of assumptions about men generally based on my experience that were not all together correct.

"Tell me how they're different, Chris." I shook my shoulders back and forth and jiggled by boobs a little. The pace of his hand quickened when I did that. I was almost drunk on the effect I was having on him. For the first time in months, I felt my frustration ebbing.

"Yours are... um... bigger. And they hang... lower. They really are perfect. Like two... tear drops."

"Does Gwen ever try to get you off with her breasts?" I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I blushed at his compliments.

"She tried. But she's too small to fit around my... my..." Christopher looked so darn happy staring at my breasts.

"Your penis?" I had not planned on it, but quickly I was on my knees again between his legs. I pushed his hand away, grabbed a boob in each hand, and pressed them around his hardness. "I bet Gwen wishes she could do this." I pumped my breasts up and down his shaft, looking down as the flared head popped up through my cleavage again and again. It was a bit dry, so without thinking, I spit in between my boobs to lubricate things. I pumped him for a while, mesmerized by the disappearing and reappearing penis. When he started his low grunting, I looked up to see the happiest teenager on Earth. "You like what I'm doing, sweetie?"

"Oh... God... I'm gonna..." His eyes shut tight and his face suddenly looked quite fierce.

"Wait..." But before I could move myself to a safe distance to retrieve his already saturated towel, he erupted. The hot liquid hit the underside of my chin first, and then sprayed up into my face. I let go of my breasts and fell backwards, but the fountain of sperm seemed to follow me. Hot splashes hit my breasts, upper chest, and more of my face. I closed my eyes and sat there, letting this force of nature take its course.

After a while, he spoke, "Mom? You okay? I didn't mean to... um... it just sort of happened."

"It's okay." His stuff tasted salty on my lips. Is that what his father's sperm tasted like? I couldn't remember. "We just got carried away." I wiped the spunk out of my eyes, and opened them. I was greeted by a son who looked totally satisfied, but also a bit concerned. "It's okay, really," I reassured him. "I'll just hop in the shower. Your father's asleep, so..." I shrugged. I didn't want to admit out loud that I was sneaking around behind Carl's back. I picked up my bra and shirt and held them to my chest. "You need to get yourself cleaned up, too."

"Sure, Mom." Now that he'd seen I wasn't mad about getting splooged on, his eyes turned dreamy. He was enjoying the wake of two orgasms. My word, he could have two enormous orgasms back to back. I shook my head and headed to the door. "Goodnight, Christopher."

"Goodnight, Mom. Thank you so much," he said in dreamy voice. I had the rather happy suspicion that he was watching my butt. I wiggled it a little in my yoga pants as I left his room.

As I masturbated in my bathroom that night, my frustration hadn't left me completely. But for the first time, I felt some measure of satisfaction at being so desired. I wondered what Christopher's sex with Gwen would sound like the next day. I imagined he would be even more amped than usual.