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From: "Stasya T. Canine" <stasya.nospam@counsellor.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP - Stalking the Stuffer (MF Rom intergen adult-inc redhead) Stasya T. Canine
Date: Wed,  9 Jan 2002 13:10:27 -0500
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This work is released to the public domain 
---
MF Rom intergen adult-inc redhead

My annual 'Christmas Contribution' (this was first posted in Dec 2000)
was inspired by Shon Richard's comment: "It is a well documented fact
that some people can not handle the pure sexual power of a redhead.
Joan of Arc, Rita Hayworth and Nicole Kidman have all had troubles
because men just freaked out when faced with the awesome attraction of
shiny auburn locks. Some people would list red hair as a squick just
save their hearts from exploding."

Thanks Shon. :)
---

Stalking the Stuffer
by: Stasya T. Canine
---

"I really don't care if you're my son. We're adults. I'm hotter than
the oven and you look like a steel post." Are all mothers able to
sound so reasonable when talking about the absurd?

"Mom, I haven't thought about screwing you since..." I blushed. She
managed to get my secret out of me. "I was a teenager." I finished
lamely.

Rather than scold me, she giggled. The giggle made her sound younger.
It also made me nervous. "Not since you started getting laid by the
girls your own age?"

"No, I gave up the fantasy shortly after you and dad got back together
and the two of you screwed each other several times a night. I knew
I'd never have a chance of making my fantasy a reality. There was
another reason, too."

Now it was her turn to blush. "How did you figure out that we were
screwing so often?"

"Mom, you're a screamer. My friends used to tease me about it. 'Think
you can make her scream like that?' Some of them even tried to seduce
you so they could win bets. Sometimes we'd park a few houses away and
walk home so we could sit on the porch and listen to you. Most of my
friends jerked off in time to your screams at one time or another."

She looked at me rather oddly. I could see her nipples were getting
hard. "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Jerk off while I screamed."

I hesitated. Should I tell her the truth? Yes. "No." I hurried on. "By
then I'd given up my fantasies that involved you."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

She looked disappointed. "I dreamed about you back then. That hard,
throbbing cock of yours. Your hands stroking it. I was too scared to
do anything about it."

She paused and then asked me, "The other reason?"

"The other reason?" My lust was increasing my inability to follow my
mother's soft words. All my teenaged fantasies had returned. I wasn't
seeing her as she was now. I was once again seeing my mother through
the eyes of a hellaciously horny teenager.

She inched closer and took my hand in hers. As she placed it on one of
her breasts she repeated her question. "The other reason you stopped
fantasizing about me and jerking off."

I shivered as my desire for her returned. I looked into her eyes and
slowly, gently, began caressing her. "Angela." I saw the question in
her eyes. Angela is my wife. "By then I had met Angela and all my
fantasies involved her."

My mother gently pulled me against her. "I'm glad then."

"You are?" I'll never understand women. Especially my mother.

She pushed me away slightly and untied the belt that held my robe
closed. My robe fell open to reveal my stiff penis. "Look at me." She
untied her robe and shrugged out of it. I marveled. I'd never seen a
woman who could simply shrug herself out of her robe like my mother
did. She was naked. I could see that her pubic triangle glistened with
moisture.

She reached out and tilted my head so our eyes met. "Any mother would
be proud of a son who confined his fantasies to one woman. Especially
if that woman was the one he eventually married."

I was mesmerized as my mother seemed to glide forward. She reached
down and took hold of me. I flinched slightly as her cool hand wrapped
itself around me. "It's ok," she soothed me. How many times had I
heard those same words, in that same gentle tone, when she was
soothing some hurt? Too often to count.

She shifted her fingers slightly and I felt air caress me. Before I
could do anything else she lined me up and glided home. I felt her
moist pubes meet my dry ones. She hugged me and pulled me tightly
against her body. "It's ok," she soothed again. "Angela knows."

I started to pump in reaction to finding myself sheathed. "No." She
gentled me to a stop and then grabbed my butt and pulled me firmly
against her. "I'll do the work. You've done so much for me over the
years."

She started internal muscular movements like none I'd ever felt
before. Squeezing. Rings that rippled along my shaft. Sudden spasms
that felt like they were going to flatten my entire length at once. In
what seemed like seconds I had to grab my mother and hold her as I
tried to force myself deeper. Incredibly, as I orgasmed, her ripples
matched mine and rapidly milked me dry. I felt her clamp around me and
when I tried to pull away I discovered I was locked inside.

She surprised me again. "Besides, Angela has black hair. Ours is red."
She laughed throatily. "You can't leave until I let go." She fluttered
internally. It wasn't an orgasm. I know what a woman's orgasm feels
like. This was incredible control. Control that she used to give me
pleasure.

"What does hair color have to do with it? More importantly, why are
you doing this to me?"

She continued her movements that weren't movements.

At the time I thought her 'answer' - was a 'non-answer'. "Your father
wasn't a redhead. He never understood what it's like to be one. I
wanted you to know too."

She pulled me into a lingering and gentle kiss that renewed me in ways
I'd never felt. When she pulled back I tried to follow her mouth with
mine.

I felt a fingertip on my lips. "Am I your first redhead?"

Instead of saying anything right away I bent forward to taste her lips
again. When I pulled back I looked into her luminous eyes.

"Yes."

* * *

My mother moved in with us later that week. I love Angela. Gods above,
I love her even more than I did before. But, I love my mother just as
much.

When I asked Angela why she let my mother seduce me, she smiled. Her
smile was a bit sad. "You weren't my first redhead. I already knew
that deep down there was a part of you that I could never reach. I
love you. Your mother was my gift that proves how much I love you."

My mother, naked and nestled on the other side of me, got up and
leaned over me to kiss Angela. She giggled that girlish giggle as she
fondled me. "Angela, honey, he doesn't understand - yet. But, he sure
as hell accepts." All three of us laughed as we wrapped our arms
around each other.

She was right.
---

December 9, 2000
Stasya T. Canine
---

"Give a minute...
   Give the gift of friendship to a stranger."
     --Stasya T. Canine, September 14, 2001--
~~~
http://storiesonline.net/Stasya_T_Canine
http://www.furnation.com/Nikkolai - Furry, general audience

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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