Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Son comes home for Christmas (with Cougargirl)

GenderBender

GenderBender

Star
Joined
May 29, 2017
Christmas Eve.

John was home from Uni for Christmas and New Year.

Dad was out getting some last minute presents, or so he said.

Mom was putting some finishing touches to the tree. They weren't necessary, not so far as her son could see.

John wandered in and sank down on the sofa.

'Mom,' his voice sounded hesitant, 'can we talk, while we're alone? I want you to know that your message has come across loud and clear. And it's OK by me. All you have to do is say the word.'
 
John's mother was kneeling by the tree as he spoke. She tensed, sank on her knees and put down the strand of tinsel she was holding.

She stayed like that for a few moments before twisting to face him. When she did so, her face was composed and her voice, when she spoke, was calm, unnaturally calm.

'Message, John. Now what message might that be exactly? And what is it that you're OK with?'
 
'Message, you want me to list the messages. Right, well they started as soon as I came in the door. You rushed up to me, wrapped your arms round me and hugged me tight. OK, so that's nothing new. Except you weren't wearing a bra. You always wear a bra. And your pressed your breasts against me and held for a long time, longer than you normally do. And I felt your nipples go hard, like small bullets drilling into my chest. Now you've got to admit that was a big message, a sexual message. Right from the get go. Come on, mum, you can't pretend that didn't happen.'
 
'Oh, is that it?'

She relaxed noticeably.

'That's easy. I had had a shower and lost track of time, so when I heard you come in I just pulled on an old shirt. It was that simple. And as for the nipples, well like you say I always wear a bra, so it was just the fabric rubbing on me that made them go erect.'

She'd not been wearing pants either, but there was no need to mention that.
 
'What about the sofa stuff? Every night after supper we settle on the sofa with me at one end and dad the other. There is plenty of space for you, but you always snuggle up next to me, bumping hips and rubbing your thigh against mine. Every night the same. Don't tell me that's just a coincidence.'
 
'No, John, it isn't a coincidence. The spring in the centre of the sofa has gone and it is uncomfortable to sit there. That's why I was shifting position, just to get more comfortable. And that's how I came to be thrown against you. That's all there is to it.'
 
John wasn't finished yet.

'So what about the laundry room, then. This morning. You were bending over by the washing machine and, as I passed, you pulled your dress over your hips and took your pants off. You tossed them into the machine, but you didn't stand up and you made you attempt to cover yourself. You must have heard me coming along the corridor. That was deliberate - no doubt about it. You exposed yourself to me. I saw everything, mum, everything.'
 
'Now, come on, mum, you know that's not true. I've heard you in the night, berating dad for not being up to it any more. You speak so loud that I can hear you from my room, not just outside your door where I used to eavesdrop when I was a kid. You are so loud, you must want me to hear. He's just not satisfactory like he used to be. And from what I've heard, you're right to complain.'

HIs mother hung her head as he spoke and he went on quietly.

'I know why you wanted me to hear. You wanted me to understand all those things you were doing, so I didn't just thing they were chance. And I want you to know that I understand what you need and that you want to keep it in the family. If you're OK with that, so am I.
 
John's mum walked into his bedroom that night. She didn't knock and she didn't close it behind her. Was it to allow her to escape or to persuade herself that this was just an ordinary visit, nothing to hide, or was it so that her husband would be able to hear and, if he wanted, see what was going on.

She was dressed in a faded red towelling robe, which she hugged tight around her.

Her son looked up from his magazine and she came to a halt a couple of steps inside.

'I'm nervous,' her voice was trembling, 'you see I - well I hadn't - not when we first met. I mean. The thing is, this would be the first time. I was a virgin when I met your father and I've never been with another man since. Not once, not ever.'

She moved closer and let her robe fall open.

'And I'm afraid.' Her voice was stronger now. 'I've been thinking. Maybe it isn't your father's fault, not all of it anyway. I'm not as young and fit and attractive as I was. His, er, problem could be that he just doesn't find me attractive any more.'

She shuffled the robe over her shoulders, exposing her pale flesh, the long Caesarian scar, her breasts that were beginning to pendulum, her protruding belly and flabby thighs.

'Not exactly the cheerleader body that you're used to at uni,' her voice didn't quite manage the lighthearted tone she had wanted.
 
John had expected that his mother would be so eager that there would be no need to coax her into his bed or calm her worries and concerns. Now he recognised that he would have to approach this gently or there was a risk that she would turn and run. It would be a mistake to try to rush her or even to approach her.

He simply rolled back the duvet to reveal his toned, muscular quarterback body, and watched his mother's glide from his face, down his chest and over his belly until they came to rest on his crotch. He glanced down to, to see the two inches of soft cock resting on across his balls with its long tag of foreskin.

'It looks like you're not the only one who's nervous, Claudia.' For the first time in his life he used her name, not feeling comfortable with calling her mom or mother when enticing her into his bed.

Hearing her name seemed to break the spell and she stepped forward and slipped into the bed beside, somehow managing not to make contact.

'Actually, I'm not interested in the cheerleaders, they're silly and giggly, just wanting to notch up another member of the team. They have a competition to see who is first to be the entire squad.'

HIs mother made the first move now, resting her warm hand on his chest.

'Who do you fancy, then, if not the cheerleaders?'

Should he admit it? Why not?

'The coach's wife is the one I really like, she must be about your age.'

Her hand moved quickly, down towards his cock, where she tugged playfully at the flap. His cock twitched in response and they both grinned.
 
Relief, that was Claudia's main feeling. Relief that her son wasn't repulsed by her appearance. Relief that he had used her name. Relief that he had invited her into his bed. Relief that his body was so hot and strong. Relief that his cock was responding to her touch and not refusing to rise as the occasion demanded.

She tingled when he told her that he found cheerleaders boring and preferred an older woman. Or was he just saying that because he thought it was what she wanted to hear.

And she thrilled when his cock began to expand. She kept a tight hold on his foreskin, even twisting it to feel the head pushing against her fingers as it tried to expand.

She wished he was on top of her so that she had both hands free to touch him, but that would come later, not too much later she hoped. But she wanted so much to feel those hard muscles and watch them ripple as he thrust into her, to see that sheen of sweat as he worked hard to satisfy her. Not that he wasn't used to energetic exercise on the football field. Or for that better in the coach's bed with his wife.

'What is it that you find attractive about older women, John?' Her voice was low and her mouth so close to his ear that he could feel the words as much as hear them.
 
'They're not hard like cheerleaders who spent their time in the gym and end up with hard bodies. They're not real. Even their tits are silicone.'

John touched his mother's breast for the first time and felt rather than heard her sigh of pleasure.

Her fingers had released his foreskin now and, as his cock expanded, she was pushing her nail under the skin and scratching at his hammer head.

There were so many things he wanted to say, questions he had to ask, but now was not the moment.

'Don't talk, don't even think, just let it happen.' That was what the coach's wife had said to him that first time. That was what he had done then and that was what he did now. Just let it happen. His mother - Claudia, he corrected himself quickly - was in control here and he would go along with that, this time at least.

And that is what she did. Sooner than he expected and with the experience that came with years of practice with his father. His cock had never left her hand and, in a swift movement, she slipped her leg over his thigh and used it to lever herself forward, guiding his cock to slide inside her as their bodies came together.

'Yeah,' She sighed. 'Fuck,' he gasped as the heat of her cunt enveloped his cock.

Then, over her shoulder, his eyes caught a movement, a shadow on the landing and he realised that his father was out there, listening, maybe even watching.

And then a thought came: was that why Claudia had left the door open? Did she want her husband to know what was happening? Was she using John to humiliate her his father.

But that idea quickly faded as she shifted her weight to roll him onto his back.
 
It was so good, indescribably good, to feel him respond when she held his cock, and then to feel a male hand take hold of her tit. She waited as long as she could control herself, just long enough to ensure that John was rock hard before she used her leg to lever herself forward and draw him into her vag. It was then a simple shifting of her weight to put herself on top of him and in control. She held herself poised over him, feeling his cock twitching inside her, dangling her tits for him to play with as she began to grind herself on his pubic bone, rubbing her clit, slowly and gently at first and then steadily faster and harder, harder, oh yes, harder. She like that word. Hard was her favourite word. And her eyes were fixed on his chest, on his muscles, and on his six pack belly. 'Harder,' she instructed him, 'grind those titties harder, keep at it, go on, I can take the pain, I can take it.'

He obeyed her instantly, twisting and pulling at her nipples, clawing at her breasts, not needing to use up any of his precious energy, not yet, not until she had taken the edge of her itch, the itch that had been growing for months now.

What was he thinking, she wondered. What was going through that head?

'Are you thinking of that coach's wife?' she couldn't resist asking. 'Is this what she does to you, ride you until you are satisfied, making you wait your turn?'

She was desperate for him to talk to her, not just lie there, she needed him to talk to her, tell her how he was feeling.'
 
John lay back, watching his mother, Claudia, working hard, her back arched, her lips open, her hips grinding away. There was something that made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, not yet. It wasn’t that this was his mother riding his cock, he accepted that, no, it was something else. It wasn’t the age gap either. His coach’s wife was a good decade or more his mother’s senior, and her body was in nothing like the shape his mother’s was.

It wasn’t even that it was he was being used. No, that wasn’t right. He was being used, but it wasn’t just that. There was something more.

Yes, that was it. He wasn’t actually involved. She hadn’t undressed him. That wasn’t her fault of course, because he had been naked. But she had allowed him to undress her. She hadn’t even worn a string or thong, let alone panties. Nothing to give him the pleasure of revealing her body for the first time.

And she had deliberately made sure her husband would hear what was happening, even be able to peek at them through the open door.

Suddenly, John felt sick and, as the revulsion overwhelmed him, his mother came. The groan burst out of her mouth, loud and long, as he felt her cunt pulse on his cock. And then she slumped onto her hips, his whole body sagging with relief.

She lent forward, kissed him quickly and made to climb off.

But John was not going to allow that to happen. He grabbed hold of her, pulled her back to the bed and rolled on top of her. Her eyes blazed as she looked up at him, defying him, daring him to take her.
 
Claudia reverted now to being John’s mother. She had had the relief she needed, a long awaited, rolling orgasm that was still echoing around her belly and sending tingles along her spine. Now was the time she needed to be left alone, to savour the after glow and relive the experience that brought it to her.

Her look was enough to make her son pause and the hand that rested on his chest was not the warm enticing one that he had felt earlier. This was the stern, controlling hand that had stopped him as a child.

His face fell as his dick shrank and he climbed off her, allowing her to leave the bed and collect her robe from the floor. She had reached the door before she returned to the bed, bent over and kissed him. The kiss said thank you and gave the promise of more to come, but not right now.

‘It was good,’ she told her husband when they lay together in their bed. ‘I’ve waited a long time for that.’

Her husband muttered something, which she ignored.

‘But you know, don’t you. You know that I’ve waited a long time and you know it was good tonight, because you were listening, peeking probably around the door. I left it open for you.’ Her husband said nothing. ‘And if you’re wondering, because I am sure you are, he’s longer than you, and he’s got a good thick stalk.’

Her husband rolled over so that his back was to her and closed his eyes. She closed her eyes too and remembered the look on their son’s face when she stopped him. Disappointment, frustration, puzzlement? All three and more besides. After what she had planned for both these men tomorrow, at least one of them would be cumming in his pants by lunchtime.
 
Was she coming back? Or did she expect him to go to her? Even with his father in the room, and in her bed? Surely not. He couldn’t believe that this was what she wanted, to leave him in this state. The cheerleaders could be bitches. Some were other out for what they wanted; others just wanted to tease and torment a player. There was a story that the whole pack had – but that couldn’t be true, just one of those myths that circulated but always at fourth and fifth hand.

Half an hour later, John’s cock was still throbbing but there was no sign of Claudia. He finally gave in and took hold of his cock, closed his eyes and imaged his mother lying beneath him, her thighs open, her pussy wet and her body straining as he paused before thrusting deep inside her.

It took only a few quick strokes before the jet of sperm landed on his stomach, followed by another, and another, five in all, or was it six. He opened his eyes and was sure he caught a shadow moving outside on the landing.

Had it been his mother, or his father again, or just his imagination?
 
Next morning, Christmas Day, Claudia appeared as if dressed for a party. She was wearing a dress with a flounced skirt and tight-fitting low cut top. Whenever she leaned forward towards either John or his father, which she did frequently and often, it seemed, unnecessarily, her tits dangled until they seemed to be held only by the nipples. When she bent over, the skirt rose to reveal white flesh between the top of her black stockings and the hem of cherry red satin panties. And when she brushed past, she paused to allow her perfume to linger and settle before she moved on.

Her purpose was obvious. She was set on arousing her son to the point of distraction and on tormenting her husband with something he could not have spiced with the knowledge that his son could, and would be as soon as the chance presented itself.

She seemed to be carrying on a separate conversation with each of them. To her son, she was saying, here I am, hold out for as long as you can and then I will tease you even more until you explode. To her husband, she was saying, you’re impotent, you know it and your son knows it, and he is going to take your place.

And through the perfume, noticeable to both of them, although they may not have been conscious of it, was the scent of her body, of her vaginal juices that were flowing inside her and oozing out to form a damp stain on those panties.

She was ramping the tension, deliberately provoking both men and waiting to take advantage of whatever the outcome happened to be.
 
One of them would have to crack, either John or his father.

And it was the father who broke. John had been watching him, trying to imagine how he was feeling. Knowing what his wife was doing, wanting more than anything to give her what she was crying our for, but frustrated at his inability to perform, and humiliated by the knowledge that his son would take his place.

When the end came, it was sudden but no dramatic. John's father simply stood up and said quietly that he would be going out for a walk.

John made no move on Claudia, not sure how she would react. He had learned enough already to know that she expected to be in control. This was new for him. The coach's wife was happy to lie back and let John make the running, while any coupling with the cheerleaders was a mutual act of frantic immediate mutual satisfaction.
 
It was just the two of them. Her husband had withdrawn from the game, leaving her alone with her son. She knew that would happen, although she hoped, sincerely, that somehow the challenge and the competition would stir something in him so that he would take her as he had so often in the past, forcefully, tearing off her clothes and showing her the effect her teasing had had on him. But it had not happened and Claudia was now standing facing her son.

Did he understand that she wanted him to show her how much he desired her, that this wasn't just a favour he was doing for her, that she needed to feel his spontaneous reaction to seeing her like this?

So she stood, waiting, upright, her tits pushed forward, her legs slightly spread, her eyes holding his. He would have to give in eventually, soon, she was sure he could not last much longer, because that was how she was feeling to.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom