Taing the Edge Off for Her Son

Hi all. This is my first story, but truth be told, I am a writer in real life, but I have absolutely no idea if I can write erotica. Any comments would be so very helpful.

As for this story, all characters are above the age of twenty-one. Robert is twenty-eight and his mother Catherine is forty-four.

Robert was so close.

I can tell when he is about to finish. It is more than his ragged breathing and the way his legs shake. It is that sound he makes; an almost a strangling noise from the back of his throat that tells me this is going to happen, and it is going to happen quickly.

I feel awash with power.

I am reminded that long ago, a wise woman told to me that no man will ever be more yours, will ever give you more of their attention, will ever care more about what you want, than when he is in the last moment before an orgasm that is being brought about by you. As for the present, in this last fleeting moment I have between his struggle for release and the glorious end I will provide for him during this deeply personal moment, this is what I remember. Perhaps I remember it because it came from my mother. In reality, I learned a lot from her.

I move my legs up slightly and I hunch down on my knees as I and gently take his balls in my hand. His back arches and he breathes in two, maybe three desperate breaths. He pulls in air like his lungs will simply not hold enough. I move up and down at that magic place; the inch or so that is just below the head of his cock on the underside of his penis. I suck very lightly and begin to move just a bit more quickly. He shudders and tries to say something that I fail to understand. (Only remembering later, I think he said

please

). Speaking honesty, I do not care what he said. I am not following orders at this moment. I am in fact, giving them, and he will not take his pleasure until I say so; until I push him over the edge. At this moment, I am focused on his engorged cock as my loving mouth takes him to a place I can never visit, not even in my dreams.

I spin my tongue around the head of his cock and increase the pressure with my lips as I feel his cock head swell and expand. I go up and down, almost mechanically and suck gently. His balls are pulled in and there is very little time left for him to suffer in this way. Make no mistake; he is suffering. I use my tongue, my lips and a bit of suction to pleasure him. He says something that sounds like

please

, but I do not want him to pop just yet. I work him with great care knowing that he is close. I edge him tenderly in ways that a bystander might almost see as loving. Perhaps a moment so intimate, they have to look away. Others of course, might see it as abuse. I slowly release his balls as the time has come for him to finish. I use the thumb of my other hand to gently massage his rear entrance. It is warmly lubed, and this avenue holds for him a delightful sense of pleasures he has yet to experience or imagine. (I remember our initial conversations indicated that he had no experience with this route to pleasure).

He told me he was frightened. I assure him that his fears are unfounded. I was so pleased because on a personal note, I love it when a man is afraid especially, when he is hungry, naked and a bit unaware of what is going to happen next and how. He grunts as my finger makes very tender contact against his opening. I gift him with a very gentle touch and use my thumb to tease him. I push it in a bit; smoothly but certainly not without purpose. His entire body, head to toe, tenses. I press in just a bit more. I wait for one second push forward easily stopping at that fist sphincter as I am in up to my first knuckle. I am approximately one more knuckle away from his prostate gland but that is not a place to go on this first time undertaking. I wrap my other arm around his hip to hold him in place and I use that thumb to gently massage the nerve-rich first spot and flick over it very gently. I hear him gasp one time as his back arches.

It is over.

His body goes absolutely rigid. For what seems to be a very long time, although in reality, probably not more than a few seconds as he goes silent. His mouth is open, but he does not breathe. He is quiet but then with no real warning, he comes to a full boil. The sound he emits is desperate and the intense emotions of this delicate moment lead me to believe that pleasure at this depth might bring him to tears. I have worked clients who have given themselves to anal stimulation and many are subject to a deep emotional release. Many cry at this exquisite experience. I smile inwardly because I know that he is incapable of doing this alone. He needs me for this experience. My thinking is that the closest he could ever come to this on his own is by masturbating and that activity is a very poor substitute. Interestingly enough, the cruel side of me loves to see a man masturbate. They see it as an act of self-pleasuring. I do not. I see it as an act of desperation and self -abuse. For a man to cum by his own hand is heartbreaking; wrenched.

The moment slows in time and the last second or two seems so long. His cock twitches and the first rope of cum shoots into my mouth quickly followed by the second and third being just a heartbeat away. I own him. I let the cum build up in the back of my throat before I pull back slightly and swallow. I move my thumb back and forth in his ass gently and press it in just a tad more remembering that he is new to this. He gasps as his body tries to deal with this level of pleasure that seems now, to be almost unbearable. This moment is raw for him and he is, purely animal. For the first time during this engagement, I speak to him.

"Shh", I tell him gently. "Shhh."

"I understand my sweet, you love this. Just ride it out Sweetie. Enjoy. Enjoy the moment just as I'm enjoying it." I manage his orgasm by holding my free hand on his hip and keep him from, if I may brag for a brief second, flying off the bed.

I clear the back of my throat, take a deep breath and suck harder while I increase the pressure. His cock seems like iron in my mouth. I relax a bit in my head because I know he has shot the lion's share of his load and the rest will be easy for me to pull out of him. I have almost, quite literally, sucked the life out of him. I slowly take my thumb out of his rear and I feel him tense slightly as he then relaxes. I continue to lick him in ways that are still deeply sexual but are flavored with a bit of play and teasing. I cease movement and suck him hard. He is drained and he begins to migrate to the other side of what is probably the most intense sexual experience of his life. His breathing has slowed, his top lip is covered with beads of sweat. It was over and my attendance here was coming to a close.

His mother, who was sitting just behind him on the bed, flexible legs gently crossed from years of yoga, held his head in her lap as she did from the start. She smiles at me. A strange crooked smile. His breathing has slowed and is not yet gentle but shows signs of normalizing. As for her breathing, you can see, that she is deeply excited. Her eyes are a bit glazed and she looks like a woman with a deep need. We sit quietly and wait for Robert to calm a bit more, as we begin to transition, as we are all thinking of what is to happen next. My mind goes to his mother. I imagine using my fingers to satisfy her. Playing with her clit until it become purpley and angry and engorged with blood. Just using my thumb on her gently, I imagine feeling her movement; the struggle of a good wife and mother feeling her orgasm approach as I carefully move her to bliss. I feel the warmth of my vagina moisten.

Michaels mother, aged forty-seven, speaks for the first time.

"She was very kind to you Robert" his mom said.

"She was very generous with you sexually and now I need for you to be generous to me. I need you to stay hard for me. Do you understand" she says. Her voice is calm and almost gentle, but it is not without edge because she is desperate need, and nothing will turn out well if that need is not satisfied.

So here we are. At the point of this encounter where the rubber meets the road. She needs to orgasm, but she needs to do it with him fucking her. Simple as that because we signed off on it at a celebratory dinner just last night. (I always get all participants together for a dinner the day before we execute an event just to see that all are onboard and understand what is to happen).

It seems a bit late to make this introduction, but I am hoping to make a quick introduction of myself and tell you my role here.

I am Julie and I am just shy of thirty-five. I am an RN, an MSW and a Therapist but keep only a small client load. I am self-employed and I suspect you can see the type of work that I do. Simply stated, I work for very wealthy people. No co-pays, no insurance companies and no office to visit. I work one week a month with one weekend included. Scenes are executed every Sunday. This schedule works well for me because it allows me to pursue my other sexual proclivities in my time off but when I am working, I visit well vetted clients and spend the time required to work with varying partners as they try to achieve intimacy and connection. I have been doing this for almost six years and only work special situations that are delicate, complex and deeply sexual.

The people I assist come from referrals arising from quiet and well-worn contacts such as MD's, Social Workers and Therapists who know what has to be done but can't do it themselves. My job is to create and empower sexual love among those who need to hide quietly in the dark least the world finds out about their passions. My job is to facilitate, in any way that is required, connections just like this one.

I am good at what I do. I am the perfect companion for anything from coffee to dinner and I never raise an eyebrow because I am quite average in terms of my appearance. That is where average stops. I will tell you more about me and some of the circumstances that have created the monster that I am (Good monster or bad monster will be your decision) down the road but for the sake of this story, I need for you to understand me even if it is just a bit. I am deeply intuitive and can begin to understand what a client needs with just a conversation. Suffice to say, I have a deep understanding of sexual love and how to bring about resolution. I have a sense of what it will take to create satisfaction in ways that are breakthroughs for sexually logjammed lives. I can excite to orgasm and relax to sleep. Quite frankly, I can do so much more.

So why am I a part of this unholy threesome? Because as his usual bedmate, the oral love that Robert desperately needed was not to happen because his mother is desperately frightened to suck him. My role in terms of physical involvement, is to drain him; to take the pressure off in order to assure that he will not cum before she does. Let's just say that I am his insurance police against failure and for that, I am paid so very well.

"I am sorry" she says to no one in particular. "I can't swallow that, and I can't put it in my mouth" she says to no one in particular. She is nervous and talks for no real reason.

"I think this is the best time to begin" I say in an attempt to move this new part of the interaction forward.

"It's OK' he says with an edge of annoyance. She moves her hand down to his warm soft middle and for the first time since I have arrived, she takes him in her hand. He groans slightly as her hand goes away from his swollen cock and she gently cups his balls in her hand. His body tenses and all she says to him is "shhhhhhhh..."

She is Katherine, a regal name for a woman who is so deeply sexual, that I can smell her need. Not the kind of woman who can go without sexual contact for long periods pf time. She is about one hundred and thirty-five pounds and has pretty short cut reddish hair. She has tats in multiple places, a nose ring and of all things, blue highlights. (I really like them). She appears more muscular than slender, but she is devoid of any fat due to early morning rowing. Few women look like this at her age.

I stand upright and move about as I look for my panties suddenly remembering they are all balled up in my skirt. I dress quickly but I do not leave. I am a mess with hair flying in every direction and truth be told, my most sensitive parts are wet. I feel a flash of anger because he is sated and soon, she will be. Sadly, I am not so I will have to settle for the envelope of cash on the counter near the blender that is payment for services rendered. I am not proud of this but I am not telling you all of this in order to lie. Can I cum? Sure, but not here and not now. However, with the right tongue? The right fingers and lips? I would soar across the sky and never land struggling to express my lust and my rage. I stand and move off to a chair about three feet from the bed.

"Lay still for me" his mom says as she fondles him gently.

"I am glad to hear her say this and begin to take responsibility for her pleasure as we discussed. If she wants pleasure, she alone, is responsible. I made it very clear to her, that it is her, not me, nor anyone else, who can help her. We rehearsed, roleplayed and meditated over scenes, now it is real. Now is the time for her to move. This is not a rehearsal. The moment is awkward as I stand there, knowing what is to happen and not knowing if I should to stay or to leave.

So I ask.

"Do you want me to stay here or do you want me to leave. I can..."

"Stay" she says without looking at me. Her eyes are a bit glazed as she looks at his cock and not for one second, does she take her eyes off of it.

"Under the pillow" she says still not looking at me.

"What? I..."

"Under the pillow" she says with an edge in her voice.

I lift the pillow and see a small tube of the expensive lubes she buys online in the small purple tubes. I hand it to her. This seems to calm he slightly as she squeezes way too much of it into her hand. I know enough to just stand there and remain quiet.

His eyes are closed. He is satisfied but his mother has made him hard again by just lightly rubbing his cock. She warms the lube in her very small hands and wraps them, quite tentatively, around his cock. His shudder reveals an underlying need that must be satisfied but for right now, he now must exert some type of control. He must not cum too quickly because if she does, all of this work will have been for nothing. She has waited for this moment through almost a month of conversations and roleplay in order to ensure their success. I have absolutely drained him for just this moment and now it is up to her.

She runs her hand up and down his cock. He is quiet and needs to adjust. She moves her hand up and down again and he groans quietly. She needs him rock hard. She is a study in human desperation. She is in a tank top and a short white skirt, buttons in front, that barely cover her assets, but I have never seen her in a full state of undress. I suspect, believe it or not, that under all of it, she is modest; perhaps even shy. I would love to have seen her sans clothing. In the hopes of full disclosure, I would love to break her. It would not take me long.

I angle back as she spreads the lower part of her skirt and grunts as she lifts her right leg over him in an attempt to take him inside her. I see her pussy for a flash. It is shaved and wow, it is beautiful. In the silence of the moment she presses him into her slowly. I watch very closely. I can see she takes in half of his cock, stops for a minute, takes in a bit more and slowly absorbs the rest. He is in her up to his balls. She shudders through her mid back but is largely quiet. It is obvious that she understands how to ride a man on his back. I suspect she has done this before. His cock is gorgeous. The head is so large and spongey with a thickening at the base that makes it feel enormous. The room gets deathly quiet as the air seems to warm coupled with the thickening smell of sex. She begins to rock back and forth slowly. She is gentle but she seems to be on a mission. Robert is quiet but I can feel his struggle to deny his own pleasure and stay in the present with her. We spent a good deal of time working on this issue of his finishing too fast and this is a struggle for him. Robert closes his eyes as he struggles.

It all seems to be happening in slow motion. A very gentle back and forth with no real sound as she rocks with more and more purpose. The intensity is starting to build. He seems to be a part of the scene but not really a participant as he just lies quietly. She on the other hand, slowly moves from a gentle, almost lackadaisical rhythm to an ever-increasing type of rocking that is destined to satisfy an itch that is buried deep inside her.

She presses both of her hands, small yet meaty, on his shoulders and uses the thick muscles of her upper back and to leverage her movement. She is slowly getting ready to take her pleasure and her breathing, although not yet raspy, is starting to come in gulps. I quietly move from the side to the front of the bed where I can see her face. She is clearly suffering in the very best of ways. I look at her eyes. They are slammed shut and covered with heavy swollen lids as her breathing goes a bit ragged and she gasps. I see the breasts that she tries to hide from me as she no longer cares about modesty at this moment. She is jamming her pussy into his cock and she quickly pulls his hand to her clit.

She says a word I fail to understand it and I lean in a bit to try and hear it. "Finger" she manages to say. She pulls up for a very fast second as she takes his thumb and pushes it between his pubic bone and her clit. She grunts hard. Once, then a second time and her back arches. I bend forward again slowly and see the fullness of her belly. A bit of sag in the right places but all in all, she looks so good. I am caught off guard because I had no expectation that this was going to end so quickly.

She groans deeply, grabs his hand and presses herself into his finger. He is absolutely dead center on her clit

She goes silent for a second and then comes. She goes stiff and shudders gently and then seems to convulse as a long wail escapes her lips. She uses her muscled torso to drive her hips into him. Her throat and upper chest are sunburn red as her capillaries come alive with the passion of release. Her orgasm is almost ugly in its intensity. I feel intoxicated to see this almost muscular woman satisfy her angry brutish need in my presence. She gave him everything. All of it. She rocks gently; takes a deep breath and another wave rolls outward from her warm middle. I am in awe as I sit and simply watch her cope with this pleasure.

I am torn. I love this and I love the work that I do. I love the things I can bring to people who need my very special set of skills but at the same time, I want to get sick because, and it is my belief that a son should not bring his mother to orgasm, let alone one that not only seems to go on forever but is withering in its passion. Crossing this line is a place that gives me deep anxiety and I need to feel good about my work, not question it. I look up from my spot on the bed as I cradle his head. She moans very softly. There is a kindness here and I enjoy seeing this. Her son has been very generous to her sexually and for this, she needs to be thankful. More than that, she needs to be kind to him. I have witnessed a moment of both horror and intimacy, yet I fail to really understand which one is more sacred or even, which is one and which is the other.

The rage from within her seems to ebb and she lays with him still inside her. She is almost timid as she gently bends in the middle and puts her breasts on his chest. Her breathing is calm, and her body feels warm and pliable.