A Mother's Needs


Topic: A Mother's NeedsI had never seen my husband so happy and so proud. The first game of the season was over and our son Jason had led the team to victory scoring three touchdowns. Not only had Jason established himself as the star of the team, but he was also just a sophomore, the only sophomore to start on the varsity team, in fact.   At sixteen he was already six feet two inches tall and one hundred and ninety pounds and looked to be the fastest, strongest running back in the state. My husband Mark was so proud he actually wept when he hugged our son after the game. My husband is not the weeping type.
That was around ten o'clock last night.
I had never seen my husband so angry. It was one o'clock in the morning and two police officers were carrying our son into the house. He reeked so badly of alcohol and vomit that one of the officers actually gagged when he dropped him into my arms. They had raided a high school party, the second officer told us. Most of the kids ran but it seems our great tailback couldn't even make it to the door.
"It's too bad," the cop said. He knew as well as we did that Jason would be kicked off the team for drinking. His father was heartbroken, and enraged.
"Let him stew in it!" he barked as he dumped our son on his bed.

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   The front of Jason's shirt was drenched in puke and it appeared that he had spilled at least a full can of beer on himself.   Mark stormed out of the room leaving me to deal with Jason. I was angry, but too much of a mother to just "let him stew in it. "
Jason had been somewhat conscious when the cops had brought him home. Most of what he said was a slur of gibberish, but I made out the words "Jack" and "Daniels" before he finally passed out. I got pregnant with Jason when I was a freshman at college. Mark was a grad student then, teaching my intro to English Literature class. At thirty-four, I'm still in great shape. I run and swim every day and consider myself to be in excellent condition. But all five feet four inches of my one hundred and fifteen pound frame was not prepared to manhandle all one hundred and ninety pounds of my son. Christ he was huge!
As I struggled with his shirt, trying to pull it up over his head, I realized the last time I had played mother like this he was a child and sick with the flu. I had undressed him and put him to bed. I still towered over him then. He was still my little boy. In six short years he had essentially become an entirely new person, and as I finally managed to dislodge his head from the puke stained shirt, I suddenly became aware just how new a person he was.

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I remember, it was just a few weeks ago in fact, my friend Stacy saying how sexy Jason was getting. Sexy! That was actually the word she used, and it shocked me. Jason was my son, my little boy, and here was my friend, a grown woman, calling him sexy. I was embarrassed. I was angry. And then I was proud. All three of those emotions hit me in about a second and left me feeling a bit shaken.
Shaken was how I felt as I stood there wiping down my son's chest with the warm washcloth I grabbed from the bathroom. His body was long and lean and muscular. He was far more developed than most of the boys his age, although his skin was smooth and soft without a trace of hair, like a boy, but so much not like a boy. He had the kind of body you see on guys in Playgirl magazine. Stacy was right, my son was sexy.
"Jesus Christ! Get a hold of yourself!" I actually said the words out loud. I knew I was about to enter the next phase in this motherly task, taking off his pants, and it wasn't helping things to have words like sexy and Playgirl roaming around my head.
Pop! Zip! Done! See, no problem.

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   His jeans were undone. I'm a good mother. I love my son.
I pulled off his right shoe and realized that he wasn't wearing his left shoe. Even more disturbing, he was wearing a sock on his left foot, but his right foot was bare. "What did you get into tonight?" I asked my inebriated son. I stood and lifted both feet by the cuffs of his jeans and I jerked them hard off his legs.
"Jesus Christ!" I said out loud as I stumbled backward clutching his jeans. Shaken could not adequately describe the moment. There were so many things to react to that I simply couldn't react. I just stood there holding his jeans, staring.
First was the fact that my son was not wearing underwear.   Like the missing right sock, this was odd, because I knew for a fact that my son not only wore socks on both his feet, but he also wore underwear.
Second, and more disturbing than the first, was the used condom still wrapped around my son's penis. Sex.

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   My son had had sex. My little boy, my Jason, had had sex with. . ? With someone. With whom? I had no idea. I had wondered if he was still a virgin on occasion, but I didn't even know he had a girlfriend. He's only sixteen, I thought, and it was a ridiculous thought considering that I lost my virginity at thirteen, but still… My son had not only had sex, but he had had it that very night. He had fucked some girl, some cheap slut, and here was the evidence staring me in the face. Was he so drunk he couldn't even clean up or had the cop interrupted him? Good God!
Third, and most disturbing of all, was… Oh my God! My son… My son's… It wasn't a penis. Little boys have a penis. My little boy had a penis. What was lying limp against my son's thigh was not a penis, it was a cock. It wasn't just a cock either; it was the kind of cock you see, not in Playgirl, but in porn, in real honest to God porn. It was huge! Even limp against his thigh and half incased in latex, it was huge.   And as I sat there taking it all in - one, two and three - three quickly overpowering one and two, and it suddenly struck me like a blind force  - It was my father's cock.

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I dropped the washcloth and nearly sprinted from the room.
It was one-thirty in the morning and I lay naked in bed next to my husband, my heart like a riot inside my chest. Mark was awake. I wanted him to talk to me, to fuck me, to do anything to distract my mind, but he was stewing in his silent rage. I lay there staring up at the ceiling, my mind racing with my pulse. Thoughts of my son collided and twisted with thoughts of my father. Thoughts that were always there, lurking on the edge of my waking life and running reckless in my dreams. Thoughts that every now and again I embraced while I was alone, or even during my weaker moments when Mark was making love to me. I would close my eyes and lose my resolve and there would be my father.
My earliest memories of my father's cock came from showering with him as a little girl. I remember it dangling between his thighs, long and thick and funny looking. He had one cuz he was a boy. I didn't have one cuz I was a girl.
Then when I was a bit older, something woke me in the middle of the night, a sound. I climbed out of bed with my blanket and I walked down the hall to my parents' room.

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   The door was open and the light next to the bed was on. My mother had made the sound that woke me. The thing that hung between Daddy's legs in the shower, the thing that made him a boy and me not a boy, wasn't all floppy and funny anymore. It was stiff and long. My Daddy was poking my Mommy between her legs with it and she was crying, but not like I cried when I caught my finger in the door. It was a different kind of crying, and she kept saying, Yes! Yes! Yes! I stood there, stunned and frightened, staring at them. I didn't know what fucking was but I knew I wasn't supposed to be seeing this. I went back to bed.
Then when I was a bit older, Missy Cardoola showed me a video her Dad kept hidden in his closet and I learned what fucking was. That night a sound woke me up and I knew it was my mother. I climbed out of bed and I crept down the hall to their room. The door was open and I watched my Dad fucking my Mom like the people in the video. My Dad's thing was a lot bigger than the guy's in the movie.
My mother was a very quiet, conservative woman by day. But at night, with my father's cock between her legs, she filled the house with sounds that never failed to spark my imagination and ignite a fire inside me.

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   So when I was thirteen and I let Billy Kearns put his fifteen-year-old penis inside me, I was profoundly disappointed. Not once was I inspired to emit a sound that was even remotely close to the sounds my mother made. I gave a slight whimper at best. And the six boys that followed in high school and the three in college before Mark, did little more than change my whimper to a very dull moan.
I felt I was missing out on something. That there was an exclusive club that I, for some unknown reason, had been denied entrance. And, as if it wasn't bad enough that I had a nightly reminder from the time I was under 18 of how amazing sex could be, it was again my mother who drove home the fact that I had been excluded.
"How is Mark between the sheets?" my sweet, quiet, conservative mother asked after her third margarita at my bachelorette party.
"Mother!" I gasped and my friends howled with laughter.
"Come on, you're three months pregnant," she said, "I know you're not waiting for the wedding night. "
"He's good," I answered, blushing red, "He's wonderful. " He was good and wonderful. He was by far the best I had been with and I loved him. But still…
"Does he have a big one?" my mother asked and I literally spit my Cosmopolitan across the table. "Your father's is huge," she declared and I nearly died.


   "That's why we have such a good marriage," she added, "He knows how to keep me happy!"
Despite the hilarity of the moment, I was suddenly almost sick with anxiety. Not simply because I knew that making love with Mark, the last man I would ever make love to, would never be anything more than just "good", but because I was struck with the urge to confess to my meek little mother that I had been listening to her get fucked by my father's amazing cock for nearly ten years, and during those years I began to wish, to imagine, to dream that it was me he was fucking. That his huge cock was between my legs, pounding my cunt until I screamed the way he made her scream all those years. I was very nearly on the verge of my own drunken confession to my quiet, conservative mother that my greatest fantasy, the thing that got me hotter and wetter than any thought, the image that I saw when I closed my eyes and spread my legs for my soon to be husband, was my father. I wanted nothing more in the world than to feel his cock inside me.
If I had ever thought of my son's cock up until that night, and I'm sure I must have at some point, I think I just assumed that he would be like his father. It never occurred to me that he would take after my father. It was three o'clock in the morning and I was laying there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling with those thoughts racing through my head. I was suddenly aware that the sheets were drenched with perspiration and my fingers were wedged between my thighs and dripping wet with my cunt juices. I also realized that Mark had finally fallen asleep. His soft snores hummed rhythmically next to me in the dark.
I don't even remember getting out of bed or walking down stairs to his room. I was just suddenly there, standing at the foot of his bed, my naked body trembling from the cool night air and the adrenaline that was tearing through me.
He had moved just enough to get his legs up on the bed, but he was basically in the same position as I left him. I picked up the washcloth from the floor.

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   It was icy cold. I went to the bathroom and ran it under warm water. The heat seemed to spread through me and steady my nerves.
I started at his arms, wiping them from the shoulder down to his fingertips with the warm rag. I sat next to him on the bed with one leg up and as I released his fingers, his unconscious arm came to rest on my thigh, warm and heavy. I washed his chest again, taking more time but trying not to think of what I was doing. I slid the rag over his hard stomach and lower beneath his belly button. I moved the rag to his side and down over his hips to his thick, muscular thighs. I wiped and cleaned all around the area I was trying desperately to ignore. I was doing my best to stall, like a good mother.
God, am I really going to do this? I thought to myself, and as I thought it, I let my eyes fall directly on his cock for the first time since reentering the room. I sat there for what felt like an eternity with that question in my head, my eyes locked on his soft, flaccid organ.
About seven inches, I guessed. Seven inches! Jesus Christ! Even soft it was longer than his father's hard. How long would it be hard? How thick? My son's cock.

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No, I wasn't going to do it. I knew it. The longer I sat there, the more I knew I couldn't do this to my son. Go back to bed, I told my self.
But I didn't move.
You need to clean him up first. You can't just leave him here with a soiled condom wrapped around his… It could get infected.
His hand still rested on my thigh and I put my hand on his thigh. His penis was stuck to his leg and half the condom dangled from the tip. Slowly I slid my hand up his thigh. I gently grabbed the end of the condom between my fingers but before I could pull it free I was stopped cold by a certain realization – the condom was full. The milky bag squished between my fingers filled with my son's cum.
My son's cum. My heart was pumping fast again. I rolled the latex sack slowly between my fingers.


   His cum. I pushed the condom back and my fingers encircled the tip of his cock. My son's cock. A thin layer of latex was all that separated me from my son's cock. I was rolling the head of my son's cock between my fingers underneath the rubber sheath. I pushed the condom back and his cum flowed down over his soft cock. I felt it twitch slightly between my fingers. I slid my fingers to the base of the condom, about half way down my son's soft cock. I peeled his meat away from his thigh and held it upright. My son's cum flowed to the base of the condom and I gently squeezed so his cock slipped free. I held the latex skin so the cum drained out over the rest of his cock and balls. His soft member flopped back against his thigh.
The sweet, pungent smell of my son's cum filled the air and I lifted the empty condom to my nose and sniffed; semen, latex and something else… I held it close and drew in the sent of some girl, of her pussy, of the cunt that had been wrapped around my son's cock that night. I put the tip to my lips and I sucked the empty condom into my mouth, tasting the little slut who had fucked my son.
I twirled the rubber around with my tongue.

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   I bent low over my son, my nose inches above his cock, and I smelled her there too, underneath the aroma of my son's cum. His cock was wet with it and I took him into my hand, wrapping my fingers around the shaft, slowly working the cum into his soft flesh.
"Ungggh…" came a soft moan from my son's lips and he shifted slightly as blood rushed to his cock and it swelled in my hand, his mother's hand.
"Oh, fuck…" I moaned. The condom slipped from my mouth as my fist filled up with his growing meat. His cum was wet and slick and I milked his flesh up and down. The head of his cock flopped over the side of my hand at first but soon it stretched upward making his skin taut and my stroke longer. "Oh my God…" I whispered as my fist, lubed with his cum, slid from his balls to the tip of his cock. My son was fully erect now. He was huge. There was a gap between my thumb and middle finger that I couldn't close as I gripped his shaft. The stroke from the base of his cock to the tip was easily ten inches. I was on fire.
My son's hand rested on my thigh, and with a river burning between my legs, I took his fingers in my free hand and I slid them into my fiery slit. "Oh Jesus…" I gasped.

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   I worked my son's thick fingers against my clit. My face came to rest on his huge cock pressed into his belly. I rubbed it against my cheek feeling and smelling his cum coat my face.
"Ungggh…" he moaned again and shifted under me.
"It's alright, Baby," I whispered to his cock, sliding it over my lips, "Mommy's here," I moaned. My tongue lapped at the thick vein, my lips kissed the soft tip, "Mommy's gonna take care of you. " I lifted slightly and my lips parted. I lowered back down and my son's massive prick filled my mouth. "Mmmmm…" my moans vibrated against his meat, so strong and powerful between my lips. I pressed his fingers into my cunt and all fear disappeared.
I was swallowing as much of his cock as I could fit in my mouth. The taste of cum was strong but I didn't care. Yes! Yes! Yes! cried the voice in my head. This is what I've wanted. This is what I've been dreaming about.

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   His body shifted and twisted under me and the thought that he might wake up both terrified and thrilled me. I pushed my lips down the length of his shaft and stroked his hot flesh with my tongue. I pulled him from my mouth and sucked and lapped my way down the thick vein until my nose and lips were nuzzled in his balls. I frigged my burning clit with his fingers as I rolled his balls across my tongue and stroked his cock above my head.
I was going to cum. I stuffed his cock back into my mouth and jerked the length of his meat.   I vibrated his middle finger against my clit.
"Mom…" The word was barely audible. I felt his limp hand suddenly animated in mine. I opened my eyes and looked up the length of his stomach, over his chest with half his cock in my mouth. He lifted his head from the pillow and was looking down at me, his eyes swimming drunkenly in their sockets as he tried to focus on me. I slid my hand up his muscular body pushing him back down into the pillow.
"It's okay, Baby," I whispered, "Go back to sleep. Mommy's taken care of you. " I slid upward with small kisses on his belly, my tits sliding over his cock.

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   "It's okay," I repeated, "Go back to sleep. " His head rolled back on the pillow and his eyes fluttered and closed. His hand was once again limp between my thighs. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest it hurt. Would he remember this in the morning? Oh my God! What have I done?
I lay there feeling the panic wash over me. Jason's gigantic prick was wedged between my tits. I thought of my father's cock and all of those years of listening to my mother getting fucked by that beast. Those thoughts had led me to this; quarter to four in the morning, sucking my drunk son's cock like a whore. I couldn't even imagine the consequences if I was caught. I lay there struggling with my thoughts when Jason's hips began rocking upward thrusting his cock between my tits. His hand twitched between my legs.
"Sweetie," I whispered in a trembling voice, "Are you awake?"
"Ungggh…" was the only answer he offered as his head rolled on the pillow and his cock continued to work its way through my cleavage.
You'll never get another chance like this, came the voice in my head. When I looked up into my son's sleeping face, I saw my little boy and I felt like a mother. I can't do this.

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   But then I looked down at the cock unconsciously fucking my tits. You have to do this! I craned my neck forward and kissed the tip of his cock as it pumped forward. Fuck it!
"Ungggh…" he grunted again. He was half conscious as I straddled my son's hips. I reached down between my thighs and took hold of his beautiful cock and held it away from his body. Kneeling over him, I rubbed the fat head against my clit and pried apart my dripping snatch.
"Oh Baby," I whispered, "Mommy needs your cock, Baby. Mommy needs to fuck your beautiful cock. " And I lowered my hips and felt my cunt stretch wide as I impaled myself on my son's manhood. "Oh my fucking God!" I gasped as his gigantic prick filled my cunt. I closed my eyes and felt him possess me, inch by exquisite inch. "Oh, fuck…" I moaned as my cunt lips kissed the base of his cock and my clit burrowed into his pelvic bone. This is what my mother felt every night.
I opened my eyes and my son was staring up at me. His eyes were heavy, half lidded, and he looked as though he was lost.

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   "Mom…" the words spilled out of his mouth without purpose or direction. I didn't care. I was as drunk on his cock as he was on alcohol.
"Shhh, Baby," I whispered leaning forward, my hands running over his muscled chest, "Mommy just needs your cock. Just tonight, Baby. Just this once. " And I rocked my hips forward grinding my clit into him and gripping his thick meat with my cunt. "Oh, fuck…" I cried. His eyes fluttered then closed and his head dropped to the side, but his hands slid up over my thighs.   I leaned forward, pressing my tits into his chest and my lips to his ear. "Fuck Mommy, Baby," I hissed, "Mommy needs you to fuck her with that perfect cock. Please Baby. Fuck Mommy, please!"
"Fuck, yes!" I cried as I felt his hips push against mine and his cock pull back then thrust deep into my cunt. "Yes!" and I rose up on my hands, pressed into his chest, and I whipped my hips back and forth, up and down over his huge cock. His head swayed from side to side on the pillow, his eyes opening and closing, his cock slamming up into my cunt like a piston.

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   The bed shook and I held on, my head flung back. His powerful hands were squeezing my ass and every nerve in my body was on fire.
"Oh… my… fucking… Goooooooooooooood!" I cried and my body collapsed over my son, my cunt like a vice around his cock as the orgasm I had dreamed of since I was a little girl watching Daddy fuck Mommy with his horse cock ripped through my body. "Jesus… fuck… oh my God…" I gasped into Jason's ear trying to catch my breath. His eyes were closed and his head was turned to the side. His hands still gripped my ass and he was still trying to thrust his cock up into my cunt despite the grip I had on him with my pussy and thighs.
"Jason, Sweetie…" I started but suddenly his entire body bucked and I was thrown from the bed. My head struck the floor and for a moment I wasn't sure what had happened. "Jason?" I said and I looked up to see him sliding off the bed. He stood up, barely. His legs nearly gave out and he grabbed drunkenly for the dresser to steady himself. I looked up to see his cock, iron hard towering over me. I reached to get up but Jason was suddenly on top of me pushing me to the floor. "Jason," I cried but he grabbed my hips, and before I knew it, he flipped me over on all fours and pulled my ass to him.
"No! Jason," I gasped but there was no saying no.


   He grabbed my hips and aimed his cock. Whether he was too drunk to tell or whether he knew what he was doing, I had no idea, but the hole his cock plunged into was not my cunt. I would have screamed but he shoved my head to the ground, forcing all the air from my lungs. His cock wedged its way into my tight asshole. He gripped me by the hips and buried himself to the hilt.
I had no words of protest. My body felt as if it were being ripped apart. Mark liked anal. I was no stranger to it, but it was hardly a regular activity and I was in no way prepared for the size of my son's cock. I gasped for breath as he pounded my upturned ass with his ferocious monster. I felt like a virgin again being torn open for the first time but in such a violent way that I nearly passed out.
His cock was at least dripping with my cum when he entered, and as he continued to fuck my ass my body started creating it's own lube. I slipped in and out of consciousness and my muscles began to relax. With each new thrust of his powerful cock, pleasure was overtaking pain.
Jason had me by the back of the neck pushing my face into the carpet.

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   I could feel the rug burns on my knees as he hammered away at my ass. He was fucking me like a possessed rapist. My son is raping me, I thought, My son is raping my ass! The thoughts didn't frighten me. Just the opposite. I stretched my hand underneath me and plunged it into my dripping cunt. I could feel his heavy balls slapping my hand as I finger fucked my self. My son is raping me… fucking my ass… raping my ass. . . My son. The words tore through my brain and I felt like a filthy whore being used by my own son as a fuck toy. And I loved it. My orgasms hit me like waves washing over the shore, one after the other, non-stop.
Then his cock was gone. There was a loud crash as Jason fell to his side and hit the dresser.

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   I collapsed to the floor and struggled to sit up, my body limp with exhaustion. Jason was staggering to his feet, his eyes glazed over. He grabbed me by the hair, for support I thought.
"Suck it, Cunt!" his words were slurred but there was no mistaking what he wanted. He had a fist full of my hair and he shoved my face into his crotch.
"Jason…" I attempted to stop him, but even off balance and staggering drunk he was strong. His cock reeked of my cum and my ass. He pushed it against my face and lips.
"Fucking whore…" he stammered and he slapped my face with his cock. Yes! screamed a voice somewhere deep inside me. Yes, you're his fucking, filthy whore! And I opened my mouth and I sucked his filthy fucking cock into my mouth. I'm my son's whore, I told myself and it was as something in me snapped, or better yet, connected. This is what I want! This is who I am!
There had been a moment when I was afraid that Mark would hear the noise we were making, that we would be caught. But that fear vanished. All I wanted was to be fucked and used by my son.


   I wanted to worship his cock and I didn't care about anything else. I would take his cock from my ass and suck it and I would do anything he wanted.
"Fuck Mommy's mouth, Jason," I gasped as he pulled his cock free and slapped my face with it, "Make Mommy your whore, Baby!" I wanted Mark to hear. I wanted everyone I knew to see me right then. I wanted our friends to know my son fucked his mother's ass. I wanted my mother to see me on my hands and knees sucking his shit stained cock like a filthy slut. I wanted my father to see his little girl turned into and incestuous whore. I wanted my father.
"Unggggh!" Jason cried out and his cock erupted spewing a hot geyser of cum into my face. I opened my mouth and caught the head of his spitting cock, slurping and sucking at it, drinking down what I could of his seed, the rest splattering my face and tits. My fingers dug deep into my cunt and my body shook with my own orgasm as my son stood over me, showering me in cum.
Jason stumbled forward and dropped face first onto the bed. I sat there on the floor, cum dripping from my chin and tits, and I waited and watched my son. He didn't move. He was out cold.

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It was five in the morning. I stood in the shower, the hot water pouring over me, trying to remember who I was, trying to forget what I had done. The door to the bathroom opened and my husband was standing there.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Ya," I lied. I'd been crying but I knew he couldn't tell from the water. "Couldn't sleep," I said.
He climbed into the shower with me. His cock was hard. I stood under the water, leaning forward against the wall, my ass pushed out to him. He fucked me slowly, gently from behind. It was good. It was what I needed. It was familiar, and as the water washed over me, I started to recognize myself again.

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