His cock was huge, and it looked like it was about to explode.
Diane's brow furrowed. Right here in her own house, her son giving in to the temptations of the flesh. She wondered, for the tenth time in the last few minutes, what she should do about it. Brad, of course, had no idea that she was watching. He was staring at his computer screen, naked, pumping his cock. And what a cock. Diane couldn't quite believe the size of it. Not that she had much experience, of course, but she guessed Brad's cock to be at least eight inches long, thick and wet and so disgustingly sexual.
Diane wondered if she should even think of it as a 'cock', instead of a 'penis'. 'Cock' was so...common, so base. Then again, what Brad was doing was base, so it was probably okay to use the word.
Brad's face contorted, and his hand tightened on his slick cock. He was staring at a picture of some immoral woman as he masturbated. Diane studied his body, his hard muscles tightening as he abused himself, and then that big man-cock.
Diane had to remind herself that he was a man now, in all senses of the word. He was back at home after his first year in college, a handsome 19-year old who walked with man's swagger. She was glad, maybe even excited, when he had returned home, but now, she wasn't so sure. She wasn't naïve; she knew that young men were often ruled by their desires. But her son had left as a polite young man, and now, as she watched him abuse himself, it was clear he had been corrupted by the wickedness of modern life.
And what wickedness. When she had first heard the wet, rhythmic sounds coming from his bedroom, she had wondered what it could be. Because his bedroom door was cracked open, it meant she could peek in without betraying his privacy. It had happened a couple of times since he returned home, Diane accidentally glancing into Brad's room. Just last week she had unintentionally peeked in just after his shower, and that's when she noticed what a man he had become. It was a little risqué staring at her own son's penis, watching it swing heavily as he walked around his room. Oddly, it got harder the more she watched, and after two minutes, her son was nonchalantly walking around his bedroom with a thick erection. She had continued watching, eyes riveted to his swaying cock- so thick, so hard- until she finally turn away, so unsettled that her knees were shaking.
But this was different. Even if she pushed the door open and walked into the room and ordered him to stop, Brad was too far gone in his tawdry act of self-abuse. He wouldn't be able to stop even if she tried to physically intercede, even if she took his hands away from his thick, wet cock and tried to squeeze off the impending explosion herself. Brad was so far gone that he would probably spew his cum all over her hands, his hot, disgusting sperm spraying up her arms and probably onto her blouse.
He grunted, and his back arched. Diane forced herself to watch. A thick jet of cum flew out of his cock, and then another, landing on a towel he had placed on the floor. His stomach muscles clenched and released, and Diane's jaw dropped. It kept coming, spurt after spurt of cum jetting out of his cock in a torrent. It was obvious that if she had tried to stop him, Brad's powerful ejaculations would have blasted right through her efforts, and her expensive clothes would have been covered with sperm, just like the towel on the floor. And she was particularly glad that she hadn't tried to kneel in front of him to stop this shameful act, because then his hot, wet sperm might have gone higher, maybe splashing onto her exposed neck, or worse, onto her face. Disgusting, just the thought of this hard, wet cock spurting its slippery load all over her face, probably even into her mouth.
Brad was slowing down, his ejaculations getting less intense. The towel was crisscrossed with cum, puddles of the stuff, and he slumped in his chair, his semi-erect cock waving at half mast, gooey and shiny and still throbbing. Diane stared at it, the better to understand her son's sexuality, because that was the only way she could deal with this problem. She looked at the shiny head, smeared with cum. Absolutely disgusting, a wet penis, and she wondered how women could even take such a piece of meat. She looked at the towel again, cum still glistening, and suddenly Diane knew what she had to do.
She stepped silently away from the door and went back down the hallway. "Oh, Brad," she said, as if coming up the stairs. She walked toward his room.
Her heart thudded; she wanted this plan to work, wanted to steer her son away from his carnal instincts. She couldn't give him much time, though, maybe five seconds-
She pushed the door open just as Brad dove under the covers of his bed. She caught a flash of his hard, muscled ass. She had to remember to use words like that, the words he would use. She had calculated correctly that he only had time to turn off the computer and dive for cover to hide his nakedness. The towel was still there, with its shameful load of cum, but she didn't look at it.
"Thought I'd do a wash."
"I'll do it, mom-"
"That's okay. Have to keep things tidy. I'll handle it."
She was aware of his eyes, so she carefully ignored the towel and its wet load as she picked up bits of clothing strewn around the room. The last thing she did was casually scoop the towel off the floor, not even really looking at it, and she could see Brad's relief that she apparently hadn't noticed his vile deposit.
Brad stared at the door as it swung shut. She hadn't even looked at the towel when she picked it up, so with any luck she wouldn't notice the jizz all over it.
He sighed. That was close, his mother almost catching him jerking off. There would be hell to pay if she did, because she was so fucking prissy about everything, especially sex. Which was really weird considering how hot she was.
Brad shook his head. His friends often told him what a babe his mother was, and although he told them to fuck off, he knew they were right. In fact, he sort of got off on the fact that his friends thought she was hot. She was 39 but easily looked ten years younger. When one of his pals told him she looked like this Internet babe Veronika Zemanova, he had done a quick search. He still remembered his shock: it was almost like looking at a picture of his mother. She was older, of course, but just as good-looking. They both had the same lean, hard body, the same long legs, the same beautiful ass. The one exception were the tits: Zemanova's were big and meaty and had that cock groove he liked so much, but his mother's boobs were even bigger, and sagged lower on her hard, flat abdomen. Brad thought his mother's tits were just about the best tits he had ever seen.
And lately, he was seeing more and more of them. A few days ago, she had been wearing one of her old sweaters, a big, loose one, while she was cleaning up. He was trying to play a video game and hadn't even noticed at first, but then she bent over to clean the coffee table across the room, and her sweater had fallen open. Wide open. He could see everything, her tits in plain view, dangling right in front of him, no bra, nothing. They were big, heavy things, with great nips. For some reason her nips were erect, thick and hard and almost an inch long. She stayed bent over the coffee table for almost a full minute, working on a stain on the table, and the whole time her big, floppy tits swung heavily back and forth.
But what an attitude. His mother hadn't mentioned a word about sex to him, ever. Yes, she probably felt awkward being a single mom and everything, but it was as if she was afraid to even utter the word. Brad knew how things worked, but it was as if 'sex' was a dirty word. Or 'filthy' and 'disgusting', as she would put it. When she wasn't busy being Ms. Important Executive at her boring old insurance company, she poured all of her energy into exercise, keeping the house spotlessly clean and being way too strict. That was one of the reasons he went away to State, just to get out from under from her constant rules and general bitchiness. You couldn't even swear around her because she would get all upset and tight-ass about it.
The weird thing was, even though she was so proper and conservative, sometimes there were flashes of...something else. The display of hanging tit she had given him was the latest in a string of episodes. Just last week, she had taken some Cokes out to a gardening crew she had hired. But it was immediately obvious to Brad that she had forgotten to put on a bra underneath her tank top, which was weird considering she was always so careful when she dressed. Whatever the case, the gardeners had noticed it right away, and Brad watched from the window as they had nudged each other and leered. His mother had been oblivious, popping the cans while her big tits shimmied underneath the thin material, her nipples sharp points.
Brad often fantasized about cumming all over her tits; he had even stolen a bra from her drawer to jerk off into. Truth be told, there was bit of kink to him coming back for the summer. He was more experienced now, and he had a sneaking suspicion that something was bubbling underneath all that repressed bitchiness.
He had seen it just last week. He heard her coming up the stairs after his shower, and in a moment of sudden bravery, he had dropped his towel and walked around naked. Just the thought that she might be looking in made him hard. He almost chickened out, but then he just went with it and after a couple of minutes he was walking around with a huge hard-on. For some reason, the idea that his mother might see his swinging dick was a turn-on. A little kinky, but still a turn-on.
Fuck it, his mother had a great bod, even if she was a bitch.
Diane dropped Brad's dirty clothes into the laundry basket, all except the towel. She realized that she had to know more about Brad's sexuality if she was going to protect him from leading a life preoccupied with sex.
She headed to her bedroom, then closed the door and sat on the edge of her bed. Frowning, she studied the towel. Some of Brad's cum- that's what he would call it- had seeped into the material, but there were still great gobs of it splattered all over. Diane brought it closer, and she could smell it, a musky, raw, sexual odor. She forced herself to inhale. It upset her, but this was her duty as a mother. She raised her fingers, and noticed they were trembling. Should she stop right now, and not do what she was contemplating?
No. If she were to protect her son, to shield him from his preoccupation with sex, she had to know more.
She ran her fingertips through the cum. It was still warm, and she shuddered with distaste. Her fingers were slippery with her own son's sperm, sperm that she had watched spurt in thick, hot streams onto this very towel. She sniffed it, shaking her head at the depravity of masturbation and suddenly Diane was so upset that without even thinking she buried her face in the towel, trying to wipe away her tears. It took a few seconds for her to realize what she had done. Diane jerked back and stared at the towel. To her horror, she realized that she had inadvertently smeared her son's hot, wet sperm all over her face!
Trembling with shame, she stood and went to the mirror. Sure enough, there it was, glistening on her face, on her nose, smeared across her forehead, drying cum. Some of her mascara had run, mixing with the cum. It was so vile, her own pretty face running with hot teenage sperm, no different than if she had squatted in front of Brad during his shameful act, no different than if he had spewed his hot cum all over her face himself, his hard cock splattering her with his thick, milky sperm in endless streams.
She watched a thick wad of cum drool down her cheek. She raised a finger to wipe it away. At the last second, she realized that she would be wasting an opportunity, and even though it was the most disgusting thing imaginable, she slid the finger into her mouth. The only way she was going to be able to talk to Brad about controlling his physical desires was to understand more about them, and this was part of understanding, wasn't it? It was all about this, all about hard young bodies releasing their store of cum. This was the real culprit, her son's sperm, and she wanted to know all about it.
Salty and warm and she forced herself to roll it around her tongue. She tasted it, appalled by the sheer sordidness of it all, letting it coat her tongue in a slippery, disgusting film. There wasn't enough, though, to get a real sense of it, so Diane watched herself in the mirror as she scooped her son's cum toward her mouth, her lips glistening. At last she could taste it, thick and musky, and she swallowed, feeling it slide down her throat. Not quite enough, though, and she lifted the towel and sucked a particularly large deposit of warm sperm into her mouth. She ran it around her tongue, so sordid. She swallowed it, then licked at the remaining gobs of cum. Her knees were shaking, probably from the shame of knowing that her own son's cum was in her stomach.
But she had to do it, because she had to protect Brad from the excesses of the flesh.
The very next day, he was at it again.
