This Mother's Solution

And then there was New Year's Eve.

Neither David nor I had made any plans with other people so we decided to stay at home and celebrate by ourselves. To liven things up, a few days before, on my way back from work, I stopped at the store and bought us a bottle of Champaign. Since I wasn't much of a drinker, that night it only took a couple of glasses before I was feeling tipsy. I'm sure David was too. We should have rented a movie but instead we tuned in the TV to the traditional Dick Clark countdown from Times Square. Of course, that was just as boring as it always is so our attention drifted to other things.

After a little more of the bubbly stuff, we were sitting on the couch cuddling and petting. The only thing that interrupted us was when we'd stop to have more to drink. Unbelievably (to me anyway) after a couple of hours we finished the whole bottle. To call a spade a spade, by then we were both dead drunk.

I don't remember much of anything after that

except

that some how, some way I ended up giving David oral sex. And the only reason I remember even that much is one little detail that registered through my alcoholic fog: the temperature of his cum. Considering that I had done oral several times with other men, which means that I should have known about the particulars in advance, it seems a little odd that the only thing that stuck in my mind is that his cum felt like it had been heated in the microwave.

Naturally, on New Year's Day we talked about what we had done the night before. David seemed to remember a lot more about it than I did and he reminded me of some things that I wasn't particularly thrilled to hear.

"I think last night's going to be my all time favorite New Year's party, mom."

"Really. . . let me ask you something. . . I didn't misbehave by any chance, did I?"

"Oh, I don't know. . . depends on how you look at it."

"Uh oh. . . Did I really. . ." and he knew what I was asking without my even saying it.

"Yes you did."

"I was afraid of that. What else did I do?" I asked him.

"Nothing much really. . . let's see, you tried to swallow my thing."

"I WHAT??? What on earth are you talking about?" I asked.

"You know. . . you tried to take it all the way in your mouth. Deep throat I think it's called."

"Oh my God!"

"But you didn't make it. . . you gagged."

"I can't believe this. . ., " I stammered.

"Who cares," David said, "there's always next time."

"Are you kidding? There isn't going to be a next time. We're not going to do that again. It's too much like regular. . . you know. . . screwing. You know as well as I do, we got carried away. We both had too much to drink."

(As a side note, several years earlier I had managed "deep throat" with a boyfriend. Most likely that was because his penis is quite a bit smaller. He and David aren't even in the same league, size-wise. David's dad is sort of in-between but, even though he likes oral sex, remarkably, he never asked me to do it to him so I never did. I imagine I tried to do it for David simply because I wanted to please him.)

Speaking of oral sex, coincidentally, about a week later my computer crashed and I had to take it to the shop for repair. Not wanting to let my email stack up, I asked David if I could use his PC once in a while to see if I had any messages. One weekend afternoon when I went to his room to do that, I noticed that David had left his web browser running with his "Favorites" list superimposed on one side. I wasn't inclined to snoop but I couldn't help noticing that he had created several folders to categorize the various sites he had bookmarked. One of those folders was titled "Girls". My curiosity got the better of me, so I opened that folder and inside were a half dozen or so web site addresses, all of them, as I discovered when I opened them, porno stuff.

That part didn't surprise me. I knew that boys David's age (or boys of

any

age for that matter) were interested in that kind of thing. What

did

surprise me, however, was that they were all oriented to a very specific kind of sex. Some were collections of still photographs and some were videos. Regardless of the format, they were all what the copy on the web sites referred to as "cum shots". David wasn't home so I spent a bit of time going through them.

After looking for a while, I determined that David was fascinated by this part of oral sex. As long as what we were doing didn't involve him putting his penis in my mouth, I had no problem with that. I wanted to give him as much pleasure as I could so the images I was seeing became a kind of teaching tool for me.

The next time I came to his room, I wanted to treat him to some of what I had learned. Having had a lot of practice, when I was stroking him I could tell when he was close to cumming.

"Are you getting there, sweetheart?" I asked.

"Uh huh."

"Cum on my face, baby."

"Oh, wow."

I leaned over and held my head just inches away from the end of his cock. The first spurt landed on my cheek and the rest close by. I must have been quite a sight with his sperm splashed all over my face.

"Wow. . . that was great! Oh, geeze mom. . . some almost got in your eye," he said and he took his thumb and wiped it away.

"I didn't know you'd go for that," he continued, "I was afraid to ask."

Usually, we took a break of 10 or 15 minutes before David was ready for a repeat performance but this time he was so aroused that he wanted to begin the second round immediately. My hand and his cock were still wet from the first time, so we made a lot of squish, squish, squishing sounds. It was a calendar night for both of us.

Speaking of squishing sounds, at this same time I hit on the idea of occasionally using a lubricant. I didn't have anything appropriate in my toiletries so instead I filled a little glass vial with olive oil. I would pour a stream over his cock as it lay on his abdomen and, just to be sure there was plenty, I would pour some in the palm of my hand. Seeing the oil coating his big, shinny pillar of flesh and watching it ooze between my fingers and run over the back of my hand, gave me a definite thrill.

Starting out each time with this new olive oil thing, over the next several days I treated David to a variety of "cum shots", all of which I borrowed from his bookmarked web sites. Sometimes I would stick out my tongue just before the climactic moment and he would try to deposit his cum there. We usually did this with David standing up. Other times I would position my face maybe half a foot or a foot away. This was a mixed success because a smaller percentage made it to my mouth, which is where he wanted it to go. And then there were times when I positioned myself even farther away and his cum would land who knows where. I know these things were

very

close to being actual oral sex but since I was making him cum with my hand and not with my mouth, that difference made it acceptable to me.

Right around this same time, David started focusing on how I was dressed when we were having our little sexcapades. I discovered from our conversations that he was stimulated by having me wear certain kinds of under garments, especially the old-fashioned kind. Instead of my bathrobe, he liked me to come to him wearing regular clothes. Often I would dress the same as I would before going to work. It was all very kinky but we both loved the erotic charge it gave us.

After we had talked for a while, I would invite him to undress me but I only allowed him to go part way. I always kept my lower half covered. When he took off my skirt or dress or pant suit, I usually had on very skimpy and alluring under things. I never wore a thong for him but I did wear lace trimmed, high-cut panties from time to time. He also liked thigh high stockings. For a change of pace, one time I modeled old style nylons for him, held up with a garter belt. He liked those even better. To finish things off, for shoes he loved to have me wear high-heeled pumps. I kept those, my panties and my stockings on even after he had removed the rest of my clothes.

One time when I was dressed this way, I turned around to pick up a book that I had accidentally knocked off his desk. As I was doing that, David shamelessly confessed to me what he was looking at. My legs were straight and I was bent over at the waist with my butt pointed towards him.

"Geeeze mom. . . dad should have taken a picture of you from this angle. You look so. . . sexy. I love the way your panties stretch across. . . between your legs back there." Even though he expressed it imprecisely, obviously he was referring to the fabric covering his favorite opening in my body.

"You'd like to see under there, wouldn't you." I teased him as I looked over my shoulder in his direction.

Our undressing procedure became a kind of sex all by itself, right from the time he unbuttoned the top button on my blouse until he unzipped my skirt and dropped it to the floor. Every once in a while he would get carried away and place his hand on my pussy, holding it through the silk of my panties and pressing one of his middle fingers inward. While he was doing this, he would embrace me with his other arm, holding his body against mine and nuzzling my hair with his nose. As marvelous as this felt to me, it always ended the same way.

"No darling. . . you know that's not a good idea," I would whisper to him.

Even though it was contrary to what I was saying, I would press my hips against his hand in a couple of little thrusts, giving him the impression that what he was doing was irresistible to me, which in fact it was. Regardless, he knew this was something he was not supposed to be doing so he would stop. Occasionally he was naughty this way but by and large he always respected my wishes.

It was now maybe 4 or 5 months since the first time I had come to David's room and with a few exceptions, things continued pretty much the same way for the next several months. One night was decidedly out of the ordinary because of something David had been pestering me about repeatedly. Our discussion about it usually went something like this:

"How come you get to see me naked all the time but I never get to see you, except for those?" he would ask, indicating my breasts.

"There's all kinds of reasons, David. For one thing women are more modest. For another, I don't want this to get out of hand. Mothers just don't show themselves to their sons that way, now do they."

After a while, though, I got tired of him needling me about it so I caved in and agreed to give him what he wanted. I made it clear that this was going to happen only once.

As it happened, I had a CD with some old instrumental music on it. One cut featured the kind of saxophone music you would expect to hear while buxom girls with tassels glued to their nipples paraded across the stage. I thought this would create an appropriate atmosphere while I treated David to my strip-tease so I brought it with me and had him put his player on "Repeat" while I performed. I explained the idea behind what I was doing and he seemed to like it.

Before I got started, I made him promise to stay on his bed while he watched me from across the room. I made sure that I was wearing all of his favorite undergarments and as I undressed, I exaggerated my movements the same way a stripper in a sleazy night club would. The whole time I was doing this, David was getting into the humor of the situation, mock yelling out inappropriate comments to me as if he was a drunk in the audience.

"Let your hair down you sexy thing," and I did what he asked, taking it down from being pinned up.

"Yeah, that's right," he went on.

Then it was, "hey girlie, show me your tits," so I slowly unbuttoned my blouse, shrugged it off my shoulders, twirled it on my finger and tossed it aside.

"Come on baby, take off that bra."

"Oooooh, nice. Look at that. . . your nips are sticking out."

"Shake those boobs for me," and I bent forward and wiggled them with my hands.

"Aaalll right, you've got nice ones, sweetie!"

"Lift up that skirt. . . higher. . . higher. . ."

"Need help with that zipper? No? Well, take the damn thing off."

"No, no. Leave those nylons on," he said as I started to roll down my thigh-highs.

"Take off those panties instead."

Before I did it, I turned my back to him, hooked my thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down very, very gradually, an inch at a time. When they got to my knees, I let them drop to the floor.

"That's a good girl, now turn around," he suggested.

I put my hands on top of my head and did as he asked. For the first time ever, I was fully exposed to him. I don't keep my pubic hair cropped in a narrow row, the way a lot of women do these days but I do trim it short. I started doing that when I was married to Jim, at his request, and I've kept it that way ever since. For a few seconds I felt self conscious with David being able to see me this way but I got over it quickly.

"Jeeeeeze mom," he said, slipping out of character, "I can't believe it. . . you are one good lookin lady! You know, you're a whole lot more attractive now than you were when dad took those pictures."

"Why thank you. It's nice of you to say so."

"No, really. . . hey. . . remember when you picked up my book off the floor the other day?. . . do that again."

"DAVID!. . . that would be embarrassing," I said.

"Come on. . . who cares. I've just about seen it all anyway. . . go on. . . do it."

"I know what you want to look at, you little devil. That's all you guys think about, isn't it."

I turned my back to him again, put my feet a ways apart, bent over and wrapped my arms around my legs from the inside, grasping the back of my ankles. My hair was loose and hanging down on the floor. David, much to his pleasure, had a bird's eye view of the most personal part of my anatomy. Looking through my legs, I could see him upside-down. He was masturbating like crazy.

As I explained at the beginning of this article, David and I met for our trysts regularly for over a year. Then something happened to change that: he lost his virginity. He started having sex with Kristy and our nightly encounters tapered off. They never stopped completely though. I was disappointed but I was very happy for him. Plus, I was relieved to know that what we had been doing hadn't messed up his natural sex life. Eventually David moved out to share an apartment with Kristy and things between us slowed down even more.

After David stopped living with me, I became reacquainted with a fellow named Ken who had been a good friend in college. Eventually Ken and I got married. David and Kristy eventually split up and after that David met and married a sweet girl named Jessica. I assumed that things between us had come to an end.

Several months later, David stopped by to visit me, one of the many times he had done that since we stopped living together. I was still in our original home because, even though Ken and I were dating, we hadn't yet married. When David got there, we shared a bit of small talk and then he said something I never expected to hear.

"You know mom, this will probably surprise you but I can't get it out of my mind. . . what we used to do in my bedroom. . . ," there was a long pause and then he continued, "I want to do it again."

Hearing him say that stunned me.

"Oh my God, honey. Are you sure? I didn't think. . ."

"The truth is, I've never had it like that with anyone else. What we used to do just turns me on more. . . I can't help it. It just does," he stammered, looking at the floor as he talked. I could tell he was feeling very emotional and having a hard time talking.

"I can't believe you're saying this. . . do you know how wrong that would be? You're married to Jessica."

"Yeah, but it was also wrong before Jessica and I got married. That never stopped us, did it."

"No. . . I guess it didn't," I replied, "You know, I don't think she'd be too thrilled if we did that and she found out about it."

"Well, I won't tell her if you don't," he said.

"Is there something wrong with the sex you have with her?"

"Not really. . . but there's more to it than that. It's because you're my mother. That's what makes it exciting. . . ten times more exciting. Sex with her is OK but what we used to do is something else. It's like two different things. I can't explain it."

"That's OK sweetheart, you don't have to explain it to me. . . I shouldn't tell you this but I know what you're talking about. . . I know EXACTLY what you're talking about because that's the way it is with me too."

"Listen mom. . . no more foolin around. . . I'm so hot for you I can't stand it. . . you know we're gonna do it."

I could feel the excitement tightening my chest. I knew he was right. I hadn't felt this way in a long, long time and thought I'd never feel it again.

"I can't believe this," was all I could reply.

"This time we're going to do something different, though."

"Oh God. . . what's that?"

"You're gonna take me in your mouth," he said.

"OH, no. I can't do that and. . ."

"Yes you can, you already have. . . you did it New Year's Eve and you're going to do it now. I've wanted you to do that for so long that. . . you're just gonna. I'm not taking no for an answer."

His eyes locked on mine. The silence and the tension was unbearable. I knew I couldn't talk him out of it so I didn't say anything. We just looked at each other and I felt this strange calm come over me. I felt like I was floating. Sex with David wasn't over after all. I waited to see what would happen next and when he stood up from his chair and moved in front of where I was sitting, I got my answer.

"Unbutton em," he said and I knew he meant the buttons closing the waist and the fly of his jeans.

Comically, it was difficult to do because he was already erect, making them hard to squeeze through their holes. When I dropped his pants down around his ankles, he pulled down his boxer shorts and there it was, as big and beautiful as ever, sticking out from below hisT-shirt. I raised my arm intending to take hold of his erection but he pushed my hand away before I got there.

He tried to bring me closer by pulling me forward in my chair but it was evident that this wasn't going to work because my knees and the chair seat got in the way so he stepped back and kept moving me towards him. I fell to my knees by his feet. I hoped he couldn't tell but I was starting to shake.

He put his hands on the sides of my head and guided himself towards my lips. I started by kissing the head several times and licking all around it. I had to keep it in place by holding the shaft with my hand. After a while I surrounded the end with my lips and brushed the tip of my tongue back and forth across the opening. And then he started pushing deeper.

Fortunately, he didn't try to force himself in too far before pulling back. As he increased the speed of his thrusts, he moved my head back and forth with his hands. I dropped my hand and kept both of them down at my side so he could dictate the tempo. I looked up at him to be sure I was doing what he wanted. After a while, he pulled himself almost all the way out.

"Suck on it," he said and I did, letting the head pop in and out of my lips. With all the saliva, it made a slurping noise each time it came out. I did this over and over again.

"Harder," he commanded and I took it in a little farther and started sucking more vigorously.

I cupped his scrotum in my hand, squeezing his balls very gently.

"It's been more that a week," he breathed huskily, "this is gonna be a big one."

I grasped the side of his hips and moved my head as fast as I could.

"Here it comes, mom. . ."

His cum burst into my mouth so strongly it made me choke and sputter. I had to pull back. As I tried to clear my throat, I instinctively closed my eyes and I could feel more cum landing on my forehead and in my hair.