This Mother's Solution

The next time I came to his room, as usual David was lying there waiting for me. Instead of hiding himself the way he had at first, the covers were only up to his waist. I walked over and stood next to his bed.

"Mind if I peek under there?" I asked as I lifted the corner of his sheet and folded everything back to his knees.

"My, my, what have we here?" I kidded him, referring to his erection, "Why don't you scoot over so I have a place to sit."

After I sat down I asked, "Would you like to open my robe?"

His hands were a little shaky and he fumbled around a bit as he did it. I didn't do anything to help him and occupied myself with letting down my hair. When he was done, I took his hand and brought it to me.

"These are for you, tiger."

He started out touching my nipples with the tips of his fingers. They stiffened immediately. He raised his eyebrows.

"See. . . just like I said they would," I told him.

Slowly he got more adventuresome. He cupped them in his hands and squeezed them hesitantly.

"Oooooh. . . they LIKE that," I encouraged him.

He moved them from side to side with the palm of his hand then held his hand under the bottom of one and lifted it as if judging it's weight. Of course he repeatedly came back to playing with my nipples. Needless to say, no matter what he was doing, it delighted me.

"That's nice, squeeze it a little," I said, referring to the nipple he had between his finger and his thumb, "that feels sooooo good."

I put my hands over his signaling him that I liked what he was doing and wanted him to keep doing it. He was making me more and more aroused.

"I'll bet I know something else you'd like even better," I said.

"What's that?"

"They like to be kissed."

"Wow, really?. . . Can I do that?" he asked, looking incredulous with his eyebrows raised.

"Sure."

He repositioned himself, leaned across my lap and started kissing the side of my breast with tentative little pecks, gradually working his way towards the nipple. When he got there he took it between his lips and sucked softly, brushing it with the tip of his tongue and letting it pop in and out of his mouth. I put my hand behind his head to hold him against me. I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven.

"You're my little baby again," I whispered in his ear.

"So, I got to do this when I was a baby, huh?" he asked, somehow managing to keep everything in his mouth as he spoke.

"For over a year actually," I clarified for him.

For a while he forgot about anything else and nursed me for quite some time. I could feel his erection pressed against the side of my leg. Eventually he pulled his head away, resumed touching my breasts with his hand and started stroking himself with the other. Because of the side I was sitting on, he had to do it with his left hand but, even though he's right-handed, it didn't seem to bother him.

Before too awfully long he said, "I'm going to cum, mom."

He had begun telling me when it was about to happen, at my request, a few days before. I loved knowing in advance. It made the anticipation all the more delicious.

"Here it comes," he exclaimed in a breathy whisper and his cum landed on both of us, part on his chest and part on mine.

And then the strangest thing happened: I spontaneously did something that I had never even considered doing beforehand.

A fair amount of cum was on my forearm and as soon as I saw it there, I raised my arm and licked it off. David's mouth hung open because he was just as surprised as I was. Neither of us said a word. For a few seconds we froze in place, just staring at each other. I couldn't think of anything earth shattering to say so I made a production of licking my lips.

"Ummm. . . yummy," I murmered.

He gave me a huge smile and then, right after I swallowed it, for the very first time I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. It wasn't a passionate kiss; just a warm, lingering, loving kiss and he kissed me back the same way. We had never kissed like that before. Not ever.

I stayed very close to him and with our lips barely apart I told him, "I love you."

"Can I kiss you again?" he whispered back and as I nodded 'yes' he did, this time much more ardently. Wet and warm our lips glided over each other, back and forth. As I registered that it was my very own son I was doing this with, a tingling sensation went through my whole body. I clearly remember feeling that.

Considering my past experiences, in more ways than one this whole thing was very unusual. I had performed oral sex on my husband a few times but I didn't particularly like doing it. I had always spit out his cum because it seemed like the obvious thing to do. He had never told me that men like it if you swallow it. My best girlfriend told me that years later. I think it implies some kind of acceptance or something. Somehow my son's cum was different. It didn't really have any flavor, kind of the same as egg whites, but taking it into my mouth and swallowing it seemed to be an almost spiritual thing. I know that sounds ridiculous but that's the way I felt.

In the logical sequence of things, I'm sure that the reader can figure out what happened next. With me sitting on his bed every night and my son right next to me, stroking himself to orgasm, it was inevitable. I knew it was going to happen and I anticipated that he would ask. Surprisingly he didn't. Instead of making any kind of request verbally, one time he silently took my hand, placed it on his cock and with raised eyebrows and a half smile on his face, looked at me expectantly. I let my hand lie there and I didn't remove it but I didn't do anything with it either. Of course I knew exactly what he had in mind.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," I said. "You know what happens. . . one thing leads to another and before you know it, we've gone too far."

The whole time I'm saying this my hand is where he put it, lying there, motionless. Even though I wasn't doing anything to stimulate him, I felt his cock reacting to my hand's presence. It wasn't getting bigger, because it was already as big as it could get, but periodically it tensed and lifted a fraction of an inch off his abdomen, lifting my hand with it.

"Oh no, I swear on a stack of bibles," he said, "I'll never ask for anything else. Please, PLEASE."

"I don't know. . . I just don't think I ought to do this," at which point he put his hand over mine, pushed down slightly and tried to move my hand back and forth.

"Oh, come on. . . please. . . I promise I'll be good."

"Well. . . I'm taking you at your word, young man. . . I know I'll regret this but maybe just this one time. . ."

And with that I slid my fingers underneath and slowly started moving my hand back and forth.

"Is that right?" I asked.

"JUUUUST right," he answered and lay back on his pillow grinning from ear to ear. As I proceeded, he clasped his hands behind his head with his elbows sticking out to each side, his eyes focused on what I was doing.

"You've got to tell me what to do," I said, "I've never done anything like this before. Am I holding it firmly enough?"

"That's about right. . . maybe a little bit harder."

A minute or so went by and the whole time I was enjoying more and more what I was doing. I was stroking him more slowly than what I remembered was his usual pace but I thought that would make things last longer. I was having too much fun to want to cut it short. I knew that at that moment, David was totally under my control. It was an exhilarating feeling.

"How fast?" I inquired, "Let me know when you want me to go faster or slower."

"OK. . . keep doing it like that for a while. That feels soooo good, you can't believe it."

There was this kind of slippery bump that my fingers felt as they glided over the ridge between the head and the shaft. The head was noticeably more purple colored. After a while, he spoke again.

"Just a little bit faster. . . yeah, yeah. . . faster. . . faster. . . oh, man."

By now I was moving my hand very rapidly and I was wondering how long I could keep it up. My arm was getting tired so I tried stopping for a few seconds and squeezing him firmly while I rested. I did this a few times and I could see by the expression on his face that he was liking it. Each time I started stroking again, he closed his eyes, pulled back his lips and I could see that he was clenching his teeth together.

At some point I changed how I was holding him so that my fingers wrapped all the way around the shaft. It was like I was afraid I was going to lose my grip. I did manage to keep stroking him, however, and all of a sudden without my knowing it was coming, the spurts began! The feeling was magical.

I pumped him as fast as I could.

I could feel each pulse under my fingers. I was so wrapped up in what I was doing that I unconsciously transferred what was happening to him back to me and I made a grunting noise with each eruption. I was feeling a sexual high that was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It's hard to explain what that felt like but I would imagine that it's similar to the way you would feel if, for the first time in your life and with no training at all, you were given the control of an airplane while it was soaring through the air.

I've totally blanked out on what happened immediately afterwards but by the time I got back to my room, I was shaking. I got in bed gave myself incredible orgasms. I don't believe I had ever been vocal when giving myself pleasure but that night I was. Very vocal with moaning and groaning and whatnot.

The next morning, what David said surprised me.

"You know mom, I heard you last night, after you went back to your room."

When he said this I was sitting at the kitchen table with my back to him, looking at the newspaper. I hoped I had misunderstood what he was saying.

"What do you mean?" I responded, pretending to be distracted by what I was reading.

This was the first time that it had crystallized in my consciousness that I had been making sounds of ecstasy while I was masturbating. Even had I realized at the time what I was doing, it never would have occurred to me that David could hear me, with two closed bedroom doors and a length of hallway in between us.

"You know what I mean, ELLEN," he said.

The way he emphasized my name went off like a gunshot in my ears. He hardly ever called me by name. It was always "mom" or "mother" or "hey, you" or something like that. The way he said it made it sound like he was talking to a girlfriend rather than a parent.

Even though I kept staring at the paper, my attention was totally focused on what he was saying. Unfortunately, no reply came to mind. There was something about the idea of him knowing that I was masturbating that made me extremely uncomfortable so I just sat there, frozen in silence. In spite of what was happening between us, I was still his mother and it seemed like this subject was a little too personal for us to be discussing. Talk about ironies: it was OK for me to know that he was masturbating and it was even OK for me to help him do it but in my mind, the reverse was out of bounds

After a while he said, "I was blown away last night. That was the best ever. From the sound of it, you must have liked it too, huh?"

I thought for a while and then in quiet, drawn out, measured tones, trying to sound severe and not very pleased that he was asking me that, I said, "Y-e-s D-a-v-i-d, I d-i-d."

"So, does that mean we can do it that way again?"

"I didn't know you were going to like it that much, " I lied, "but. . . it just so happens I liked it too. So if that's what you want, I suppose we will. Like I told you before, you're all the sex life I've got."

There was a break in the conversation and after a while I put the paper in my lap, looked over my shoulder at him and continued.

"You're probably thinking I'm a pushover. . . letting you talk me into these things. . . one thing's not going to change though, no matter what. We're never going to have regular sex. . . you do know that don't you? That's not going to happen."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

"I'm glad to hear that," the relief in my voice obvious and I turned back to look at the paper. There was a break in the conversation and I assumed David was getting his breakfast together. After a while he spoke to me again.

"You know mom, I wish you hadn't left so soon last night cause I wanted you to do it to me again."

"Again. . . what do you mean, again? I thought you were done."

"Not really."

As he was saying that, I felt his hand on the back of my head, pulling my hair to one side and then I felt something soft touch the back of my neck. Startled, I turned around in my chair and what I saw surprised me: while I wasn't looking, he had unbuttoned his jeans, lowered his shorts and there he was, hard as a rock! He had touched the back my neck with the end of his cock. He wasn't even holding it with his hand. It was sticking out like a little flag pole.

"David!" I exclaimed, "What on earth. . ."

"If you wanted to be nice you could make up for leaving too soon right now."

"Oh, really? Well, aren't I the lucky one. You know I told you that was going to be a one time thing."

"I was kind of hoping you'd change your mind."

"I'll just bet you were. Besides. . . I had no idea it was even possible for you to. . . you know. . . that often. Are you sure you can do that again, so soon?"

"You bet," and he reached down, took my hand and guided it to him.

"Boy, aren't you the horny one," I said and I started stroking him. "You sure aren't like your dad. It usually took him two or three days to recover."

He was standing right in front of me as I sat there and after a while he rested his hands on top of my head. I could feel his fingers contract and relax as he grasped my hair, keeping time with my motions as my hand went back and forth. I started out looking at what I was doing but after a while I looked up and our eyes met. I opened my mouth slightly and began breathing very deeply, the whole time with us looking at each other. Needless to say, it was a VERY intimate moment between us.

"This is making me very hot, David, are you getting close?" I asked.

"Uh-huh"

"Cum for me sweetheart. . . I want to see it."

I was all dressed up for work and I recall that I momentarily panicked about the possibility of getting my clothes messed up when the inevitable happened. It crossed my mind to keep that from happening by taking him in my mouth but that was out of the question so just in the nick of time I cupped my other hand in front of him.

"Uhhhhh. . . uhhhhh. . . oooooh yeah," he moaned.

Towards the end of his orgasm, his hands were gripping my hair so tightly it hurt a little. Once again, just like the previous night, the feeling of his cock thrusting through my fingers and seeing each spurt of cum from just inches away was mesmerizing. After he was done and he saw the pool of white liquid in the palm of my hand, he wanted me to take it in my mouth. I can't remember how he phrased it but that's what he wanted.

"Not this time, baby. Maybe some other time," I replied.

Cleaning up afterwards wasn't a big job. David wiped himself off with a paper towel; I washed my hands in the sink and we were both as good as new.

Needless to say, after that our get-togethers changed completely. From then on it was always me doing the handiwork. Once or twice I watched him do it to himself, just the way we started out, but that was the exception. Also, that was the first time we did this kind of thing outside of David's bedroom. Naturally it wasn't the last.

Weeks later we went shopping one evening. We both had some things we wanted to buy at various stores so we set out on a trip to the local mall. I was driving. As we drove on a stretch of empty road, David decided to indulge himself. He reached across the car's center console, slipped his hand inside my coat, unbuttoned the top buttons of my blouse and tried to slip his fingers inside my bra. He couldn't quite navigate this maneuver and had to settle for cupping my breast through the fabric. Nevertheless, it was a deliciously erotic thing to do and it stimulated me immensely.

"Careful young man, you're going to get yourself in trouble," I warned him.

When we got to the mall, before we got out of the car, David said, "Hey mom, there seems to be a problem here," nodding down towards his lap.

I looked over to see what it was he was talking about. He had an erection and it was obvious even though it was inside his trousers. There was no way we were going anywhere with him looking like that.

"I think you should take care of it for me," he said.

"WHAT? Right here? Are you kidding? Someone might see us. No way I'm doing anything like that."

"Would you rather walk around with me looking like this?"

I thought about it for a while, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel and asked, "Can't we just wait for it to go down?"

"I have the feeling that's not going to happen. You've got me all worked up."

There was another big pause and then he told me his solution.

"You could park over there where there's no cars," he said, looking towards an empty part of the lot that was farther away from the entrance to the mall.

"We could see someone coming long before they got there," he added.

"Yeah, but. . ."

"No buts. Come on, let's do it."

The more I thought about the idea, the more it was tempting me. It was an incredibly stupid thing to do but I decided to go along.

"OK," I said after a long pause, "but you'd better make it quick. I don't want this to backfire on us."

I started up the car and drove over. David had his pants open before I even parked. Seated the way we were, I would have had to reach over to him with my left hand which I didn't relish doing, plus the console was in the way, so I suggested we switch sides and get in the back seat. He had to zip up again but that's what we did. As soon as he was ready for me, I sat sideways facing him, conjured up as much saliva as I could muster, spit it into my hand and smoothed it over his cock. The image that made, his erection glistening in the light from one of the towers illuminating the parking lot, has stayed with me to this day. I can picture it like a photograph.

I didn't fool around with any build up because I wanted him to cum as quickly as possible, so I stroked him as hard and as fast as I could. The whole time I kept looking back and forth between David and the parking lot to see if anyone was coming but fortunately no one did. My accelerated pace did make it quick but there was a factor that neither one of us had counted on. There was no way for me to get my left hand in position, like I had weeks earlier at the kitchen table, so he spurted all over everything. On his clothes, on parts of the car. . . everything. And to make matters worse, there was nothing handy to clean up with. So the irony was, in spite of what we'd done, we didn't make it to the mall anyway. We had to go back home and erase the signs of our behavior, sinners that we were. Regardless, it was an adventure for the record books.

Right after this, David became noticeably more sexually aggressive. He took to being "fresh" (an old-fashioned term I've always liked) with me. It's like we had a certain kind of sexual familiarity with each other. For my part, I didn't mind at all because I loved the attention.

Of all the things he liked to do when we weren't in his room, probably his number one favorite was playing with my boobs. Even when there was nothing serious to immediately follow, he liked to slip his hand inside my blouse, cup my breast and feel the nipple grow hard. This might happen at any time: when he'd sneak up behind me while I was doing things in the kitchen, when we were sitting next to each other on the couch watching TV, any time at all. Often he'd kiss my neck or stick his tongue in my ear and nibble on my earlobe at the same time. To accommodate him, I took to running around the house with no bra under whatever I was wearing. Even though we weren't having actual sex, David treated me more like a lover than any of my previous boyfriends ever had, including his father Jim.