Message-ID: <34686asstr$1010895004@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: thedisciplen@yahoo.com (DiscipleN) X-Original-Message-ID: Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: 12 Jan 2002 05:52:58 GMT X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 11 Jan 2002 21:52:57 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Natural Mom's Organic Son (1/?) [slow,inc,m/F, M/F, cuck, breast] Date: Sat, 12 Jan 2002 23:10:04 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, hecate The following is a work of FICTION. Natural Mom's Organic Son by DiscipleN Copyright (c) 2002, by DiscipleN. All rights reserved. This work may not be used for any commercial purposes without prior, documented consent from the owner. Chapter 1 My husband, Melvin Gulderson, licked his lips not wanting to waste a drop of pussy juice. "How was that Natalie? I told you I had a surprise for you. Did you like it?" "Dear," I replied, "that was a moment I'll always treasure. I'm so glad you talked me into it. Someday I hope I can surprise you as much or more!" The sincerity in my voice barely avoided the pit of irony which I had been slowly dragged into. I love my husband, but he was terribly naive and already had begun to suffer for it. During the first two years of our marriage, dolphins couldn't have mated often enough to satisfy us. But reality found it's bullseye, and I was shot in the womb with a number one son. Even pregnant I still enjoyed regular sex with Melvin, but the pace slowed with the physical problems of hauling an extra thirty pounds around my center of gravity. After the delivery, I was much more sore than I had been led to believe. My girlfriends just gushed about how modern women literally could jump back into the sack with the mate after every feeding. (You know, all that sucking makes you so horny.) Tell it to the wind. My first son was a beast. He would grind his gums into my nipples so hard, I threatened to bottle feed him. Dear, stupid Melvin begged me to stay the course because of all the natural benefits of breast feeding. And true to the pop-psychology researchers in child development, my son Clifford grew up to be a strong and healthy beast. That's right, I said MY son. He didn't spend a moment with Melvin when he wasn't screaming. My poor man was willing and eager to help with all the chores of baby rearing that would have left most men cowering in their den with TV remotes. His child never gave him a chance. Whenever he showed his admittedly plain face around Clifford, if I wasn't nearby and holding him, the entire neighborhood would become convinced that serial killers had descended en-masse on the Gulderson household. I suppose I was partly to blame. My heart went out to my son first and then my husband. Isn't a mother suppose to protect and soothe her children? I know I showered little Cliff with too much affection. I discovered early on the quickest way to silence the lad was to open my blouse. That boy just loved tit - much to my despair, especially after he began sporting a perfect set of teeth. (Mother's milk is great for teeth!) His screaming would transfer to me, through my breast, but I was the adult and had to suffer the pain of his chewing in silence. Melvin said, the doctors said, all the magazines said, every-bloody-body said to breast feed as long as the child wanted, even into late adolescence. It was nature's way, and science had proved over and over how they could duplicate the form, but rarely the function. I believed it. I also believed that as Clifford grew, he'd learn to prefer solid food. Going into Clifford's sixth year, I stopped wearing bras. Clifford ate his meals from a plate but never slacked his demands at my flowing milk. Right after dinner, his dinner. He'd shout "Meelk, Meelk!", over and over. I'd have to bear tit in the middle of my own meal to shut him up, regardless of who we might be entertaining. If mommy dared to find a moment of peace, even as far away as the other side of the room, Clifford would crawl right over and climb up. Buttons would snap off at his strong groping, and I'd be required for immediate service. Thank heavens I was able to teach him to stop tearing at my nipples by the time he was four! During those years I was less than an ideal lover to Melvin. Having another needy man climbing on my body was often more than I could stand. I warned Melvin that we should constrain our son from the tit, but he shrugged and said, he expected to make sacrifices for the proper rearing of our children. The other problem was that Melvin and I wanted more than one child, and we had wanted them close in years of age, but nature played by it's own rules. You see, breast feeding is a natural form of birth control. It stimulates hormones that delays ovulation much like the pill. I often wondered if Clifford didn't instinctively know this and persisted at his sucking regimen to deny any potential competitor from my arms and my chest. Clifford wasn't quite nine, when his father finally put his foot down. "Now, I want you to know that this has nothing to do with punishing you. I love you son, but Mommy can't be nursing you whenever you want. What would your friends at school say if they found out? They stopped nursing years ago. You're growing up, and soon you'll be a man. You're already a man in your dad's eye, but maybe not yet old enough to drive the car, eh?" Melvin always tried to put a happy face on things. Clifford's reaction was a hundred percent predictable. He screamed. "It's isn't fair! It's isn't fair! It's isn't fair!", and so on. Melvin and I stood up to him that day, even after he had lost his voice from screaming and finally sank into a deep sulk. That night, Melvin and I fucked like new bunnies. I truly love my husband and don't consider his rather un-macho personality to be anything less than completely adorable! The next day, after a surprising realization, I asked my doctor to put me on the pill. I wasn't sure I wanted to be pregnant right away, after finally escaping from Clifford's clutches. I wanted some downtime. I didn't get much. Clifford never did bond with his father. Melvin would take him out to ball games, on short camping trips, fishing, offer to play with him anytime, but the boy rebuffed every attempt. My poor husband was given only a pouty silence and no cooperation for all his earnest fathering. We would hire babysitters. So we could go on our own romantic interludes, usually to be interrupted by some emergency back home. Clifford tried to suck his babysitter's tits. Clifford had tricked the sitter and locked her outside of the house. Clifford set the sitter's purse on fire. Clifford went through babysitters faster than he had gone through diapers. Eventually, nobody was left, except me. Thinking back upon all my misery since then, I realize it was still, largely my fault. I just couldn't handle that kid's energy. When he was with me, I was his whole world. He would make presents for me, string wrapped around paper, bound into funny animal shapes he copied from cookies. He would read stories with me and was a fast learner. (Mother's milk is great for early neurological development!) He would share his toys and even pick them up and put them away properly, as long as I was with him. He never brought friends home from school. His grades were passing to good. Clifford was even willing to chill around his father, as long as the distance between mom and him was shorter than the distance between him and Melvin. The three of us could actually have occasional fun together. We all might have turned out quite well, as a family, if I hadn't gone and made one, unforgivable mistake. You see, secretly, when Melvin was out of the house, Clifford would still try and suck on my tits. It didn't matter that they had stopped offering milk. He was passionate for them! I tried, honestly I did. I barred the gates from his desire for more than a year after Melvin's ultimatum. The boy's requests waned, but they never stopped completely. My downfall occurred, by my own measure, on a weekend during Clifford's tenth year. Melvin was out of town on business, and my son and I spent the whole weekend running around town shopping for clothes. It had started out as a banner year in the Gulderson's household, and Clifford had mostly grown out of his previous year's wardrobe. His body was amazing! It exploded like a weed, a tough one, impervious to pesticides too. (Once, he had found a bottle of it under the sink and had gulped down a mouthful. We didn't even have to take him to the hospital. He threw it up right away and wasn't bothered with aught but a tummy ache and skipped two meals.) Nutritionists would have made him the poster child of natural nursing. My girlfriends all looked at my ten year old boy and wondered when he was going to start college. I bought him two sizes of everything, worried that he might outgrow the first before we got home. I was also worried that we might not have the extra money to splurge on so many clothes again. The reason Melvin was working out of town over the weekend was because his company had begun to feel a new pinch in the local economy. I was exhausted by Sunday's end. Melvin wouldn't arrive until the next day, and after stowing all the new purchases, with Clifford's help, I staggered into my bedroom and collapsed on top of that peaceful harbor. My mind found it's own peace in a very pleasant dream, where Melvin was shaking the bed, but this Melvin was six feet tall and built like a lumberjack. He was my MAN! Very gently he pulled on my dress and tugged the top over my shoulders. I still wasn't wearing bras. (I secretly hoped my breasts would sag so much my obsessed child might loose his desire through pure disgust. Unfortunately, my son got his toned physique from his mother.) I mewled and cooed seductively as Melvin touched one breast and then the other. He pawed them softly and sequentially rolled them under his palm. By the time he started sucking, I was ready for him to tear off the rest of my dress. "Fuck me, oh why don't you fuck me!" I said in my dream, but my manly Melvin was taking his time. He sucked my nipples like they were the sweetest fruits. I wanted to pull up the hem of my dress and show him where to really please me, but my arms lay useless at my sides. The best sensation I could manage in my flowing pussy was to grind my loins together. I wriggled and writhed like a slut in the winning team's locker room. My dream was dashed into glass shards when Melvin suddenly bit down hard into my nipples. I shouted out and convulsed myself awake. My forehead was soaked in sweat, and my cunt shook from a cruelly induced orgasm. My senses reeled, and I opened my eyes, and there was Clifford scrambling away. Clifford was by no means six foot tall nor built like a lumberjack, and his resemblance to his father never did gain beyond a few hints around the ears. Only when he whined did he match his father's rare complaint. "I didn't do nothing. I didn't do nothing!" I watched him race out of the room. I was just tired enough to let it go, but there is no rest for the weary who raise Clifford. I struggled up, still buzzed from my little cum and got to my feet. If the boy's room had been in the opposite corner of the house, I might never have got there. The bathroom was the only barrier Melvin and I had to protect us from his boisterous play in his room. I caught myself from falling at his doorway, which he hadn't closed. I found him facing away, curled up on his bunk bed, an obsolete symbol of optimism for our family's future growth. "Let's just forget about it Cliffod. Mommy's going to lock herself in her room and get some sleep. Don't burn anything down until morning, all right? I'll see you then." That was all I said. I turned back and started to walk myself along the wall. He asked a question. "Mommy, what is 'fuck'?" Without thinking, I replied. "It has to do with sex, honey. Now don't say that word ever again, or I'll wash your mouth out with soap." I imagined I was being fierce, but in my delirious state, who knows how the kid received it. I continued successfully to my room. I even managed to work the lock. I looked forward to a bright morning, energy once again flowing through my body, ready to guard America and the rest of the world from the evil of my son. The new day dawned. I noticed traces of my husband who must have arrived home earlier that morning. The fact gave me a bright start to my day. I luxuriated in the tub, moisturizing and scenting my body, all the long while, planning to kidnap my husband and lock my son in the cellar for the remainder. I found them, uncharacteristically together in the living room, apparently sharing a father and son chat. I was amazed. Then I was horrified. "...and eventually the erect penis, through gentle thrusting and true love for your partner cause you to ejaculate sperm into her uterus where just one of their wriggling, minuscule cells is soaked up by the egg and begins a new, human life." Melvin was even using the psychologist approved picture book we had bought several years ago in the eventuality of our son's important education. I almost fainted. "Golly dad, That's awesome!" "Son, I'm honored to have been the one who could answer your question." Melvin tried a fatherly tossle of his son's wild hair, but Clifford ducked it and was the first to notice me standing in the hallway. My jaw dangled like a dead cat. Clifford froze at the sight of me. His eyes held the only hint of powerful forces marshaling in his head. They were radioactive with curiosity. Melvin followed his son's gaze and smiled warmly at me. "Honey, I think we might be seeing a new change in our son's personality." He got up from the couch and hugged me warmly. I don't think I said anything, but I did manage to close my trap. I might have sub-vocalized, "Oh shit!" -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+