Message-ID: <34830asstr$1011399004@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: 18 Jan 2002 07:18:02 GMT X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 17 Jan 2002 23:18:01 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Natural Mom's Organic Son (3/5) [no-sex, inc, panties, cum] Date: Fri, 18 Jan 2002 19:10:04 -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 3 I know that in my own orgasmic throes, I yelled Clifford's name, but I immediately tried to bury my treason with, "...your dad is the best fucker in all the world!" Melvin took the compliment and poured his semen into my cunt. "I love you my darling!" He kissed and kissed me. I quivered and quaked to a tumultuous series of orgasms, whipped up by a storm of fantasy: Clifford on top, from behind, in my ass, forcing himself down my throat! I was lost to the idea of whoring myself out to my son. The tempest subsided, and I drew myself away from my husband, wracked with guilt and tears. After all, they were only fantasies. Every day I imagined ridiculous things that would never happen. I was an adult woman, capable of withstanding intense traumas and temptations. I knew who I was and the difference between right and wrong. No twelve year old child would cross that line while I was on duty! Life will continue, I told myself. The very next day saw the beginning of my downfall. I was in the kitchen preparing spaghetti. I listened to Clifford playing with his more expensive toys in the living room. Since his dad was away at work, and he was out of school on spring break, it was okay to have fun with them. Before his father returned, they would be piled up in the closet with Melvin's muddy shoes. I called him to lunch, and heard him call out, "Oh boy!" "Mmmm, I love spaghetti, mommy." He made a point of hugging me before plopping himself down in his kitchen chair. With every bite he rubbed his tummy and grinned at me, but I wasn't buying any of it. All of his smoke and mirrors allowed him to eat at a snail's pace. I easily finished my plate before he was done. Then he enacted the brilliant part of his extemporaneous plan. "I'll get you some more." He jumped up and ran to the stove. "But I don't want any mo-..." I warned after him, but he was already lifting the pot and hauling it over to me. "It's too hot! Uh oh, whoa! Whups!!" And suddenly the entire pan of simmering sauce splashed over my back. The thick fabric of my house dress repelled it from soaking in just long enough. I jumped up and tore it away from my skin. I ran into the living room, steaming sauce dripping everywhere. My dress was off of my torso in record time as I raced into the bathroom. Grabbing the shower hose, I opened the cold tap and poured water down my naked back. Thank goodness I don't wear bras. It might have caught the fluid in the worst of places. My moment of crisis fled, but I sat shivering on the lip of the tub realized I had thought only of my own salvation. I had scarcely looked at Clifford to discover if he too had been endangered. I was fully caught off guard. Clifford ran into the bathroom and hugged me. Tears flowed from his eyes. (He was quite convincing.) "Mommy, mommy I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" "I-it's okay. Mommy's out of danger. Did you hurt yourself?" I looked him over, and yes there were a few stains, here and there on his clothes, mostly on the legs of his trousers. He looked at himself. Realizing my half naked condition. He began pulling off his own clothes. I over corrected for my mistake and mistook his actions. "Is it burning you? Here!" I aimed the portable shower nozzle right at his clothes as he swiftly removed them. The next thing I knew I had a totally naked, wet boy jumping into my arms, hugging me. "The water's so cold!" I hugged him back to warm him. A few seconds passed before my carefully constructed warning system finally called bullshit. At least I managed to stop him before one of my nipples 'accidentally' fell into his mouth. "Hey, did you spill that deliberately?" My son was not the best of liars. He hadn't seen too many examples to copy, but he gave it a mighty try. "No, it burned my hands." "Let me see them." He fell back on the crying defense. I stood up from the tub's rim, still holding him and reached for a towel. "All right, stinker. Let's get you dry and into some fresh clothes." I carried him into his bedroom. "I think we may have to discuss punishment." He buried his face into my shoulder and upped the volume of his distress. But other, more telling signs exposed his facade. Foremost, he was sporting an erection in his young cock that could have put a dildo to shame. I could feel it pressing against my belly. I hurried to place him on his bed, and I wasn't gentle with the towel either. His sobs quieted but assumed a more sincere quality. However, he continued to contemplate my exposed tits. He knew he was in trouble, and my tits were as inaccessible as if I were wearing a bra, a dress, and a parka. His cock didn't quite follow the logic. As I finished toweling him, I gave his cock a quick swipe before drying his legs. I barely touched it, but upon lifting his leg to get the last wet spots, his pelvis gave a slight twitch and I watched a long spurt of white fluid jump out of his dick and land on the length of my arm. As second jet landed on his left side. The towel dropped from my hands. I was speechless. I couldn't move. All I could do was sit on the edge of my son's bed and stare at the rope of semen that slowly spread around my forearm. It was perfectly white, without a blemish, and I swear I could feel millions of sperm cells swimming, doomed in their search for an egg. Perhaps I was lucky in that I wasn't ovulating that day. Who knows what I would have done? What I did was bad enough. I was absolutely fascinated with what I considered to be the most beautiful, perfect cum I had ever seen. I had only seen my husband's and the cock juice of two other men before him. But Clifford's was like the finest facial cream, heavy and rich. I was sorely tempted to spread it over my tits, into my face, and even taste it. It's smell alone could have seduced a harem of women. "I'm sorry, mommy." "I'm sorry too." I didn't say that I was sorry his gorgeous prick fluid hadn't been shot into my womb at the height of it's fertility. I shook my head, picked up the towel, and walked out of his room without another word. Yes, I cleaned my arm, and I didn't succumb to tasting it, but in one fateful moment, I had learned of the potency of my son's seed. My reaction to his ejaculation hadn't escaped him. Clifford must have been additionally motivated to continue crossing the line. I hadn't even punished him for deliberately spilling the spaghetti sauce, thus forcing me to undress in front of him and provide him with the perfect excuse for not only exposing his rock hard cock but pressing it into my stomach as he hugged me. He renewed his campaign of temptation in subtle ways. Several days passed without incident. Clifford returned to the routine of schooling, but Melvin seemed destined to work later every night. His company continued to flail. Hand made pastas and sauces turned into canned, and then to boxes of foul tasting macaroni and cheese. New clothes hadn't entered our closets for months. As Melvin came home with less and less, he was equally less interested in sex. He had begun to pass on my most concentrated efforts to seduce him, especially during my next fertile period. I told myself, if we didn't conceive in the month following, I was going back on the pill just in case the most ridiculous and fantastic of my worries leapt out of my head and into reality. One afternoon, after Clifford's return from school, I walked past the open door to his bedroom. I heard him mumbling something or other, and I peeked in. He lay on his bed, fully naked, masturbating into my purple panties. Without a word, I retreated, donned a sweater, and went outside for a walk. Half an hour later, I returned to find said undergarments laying on top of the laundry in the basket. I couldn't resist lifting them up and looking at the dark stains and wet clumps of slowly drying cum. In surprising self-revulsion, I immediately dumped the laundry into the washing machine and ran the entire cycle twice, adding detergent each time. A couple days later, we were together on the couch, watching television, waiting for Melvin to return, late from work as usual. Clifford rested along the length of the couch, and I sat up against the back. His head lay peacefully on my lap. We typically left the living room lights off to watch TV, and all I could see was the screen and the side of his face. His bored expression tepidly followed what was a fairly dull movie. At one point in the story, the noisy box quieted. I heard a peculiar sound from my son. It was something like a hiss, but in short bursts. I looked down and saw that he had turned his head slight towards my crotch and was sniffing it. "Clifford, sit up." I said, dutifully. He flashed me a quick pout but obeyed. The next morning, he burst into my room when he knew I would be undressing for the shower. Melvin was already back at work, and my uterus had been left wanting. "Mommy, mommy, look what I can do!" He wasn't fully naked. He was wearing a t-shirt and slippers. He did have a hard on. Please pardon my attempt at humor. He pointed at his buttocks which clenched an ostrich plume borrowed from the arrangement in the living room. "Look, I've got a tail!" "That's nice dear. Go put your pants on." I tried to ignore him. Then he thrust his rampant cock forward and said. "Now I have two tails, one in front and one in back." For half a second I doubted my response. I was holding my doffed dress in front of me. It wouldn't have taken half a second for it to drop to the floor. I backed into the master bathroom and shut the door. After taking a full hour to wash, I covered myself with a large towel, reopened the door, and peeked out. He was gone. I stepped across the threshold into my room. In the middle of the floor, there lay my purple panties. A beautiful white glob beaded up from the dark stain in the middle of them. My heart stopped for two beats, and I gulped unconsciously. I reached my hand down, slowly, and disturbed the glistening pool with the tip of my finger. It felt like the smoothest pudding. I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't been interrupted by my son's voice. "Mom!" I looked up and saw him peering around the end of the bedroom door. "Peek-a-boo!" "Get out and shut that door!" It was the first time I ever snapped at my son. He responded instantly, but he sulked for the rest of the day, even after school. It was time to call Melvin. I didn't actually mention the cum involved in these episodes. "Look honey, yeah, that's not right him peeking on you, but I don't think we have to hire a shrink. His body's changing. He's got all sorts of curiosities and desires for experimentation. It doesn't mean anything." I didn't just hang up on my husband, but I didn't let the conversation linger either. Fortunately, when he returned from work that night we came to an agreement about punishing any future misbehavior. He even made love to me, perhaps as a means of reassuring me. However, he had finally noticed that I was out of The Pill (it only had taken him a year an a half). He sought out an ancient condom relegated to the back of his dresser drawer. I guess it worked well enough. I didn't catch. One day later, I had my first opportunity to discipline my son's growing misbehavior and disrespect. He easily overstepped the mark. I was simply reading a magazine in the living room when he surprised me from behind by placing his hands over my eyes. When I 'guessed who'. He dropped his hands onto my tits and grabbed them. He was actually rubbing them through my house dress before I could summon the patience not to strike out in anger. "Stop that Clifford. Do you hear me?" He stopped. "Yes mommy." spoken with disappointment. "This time, I am going to punish you. Now go to your room and shut yourself in for two hours. I want you to think twice about invading my privacy." "Yes Mommy." He trudged off to his room. I didn't hear a sound from him for two hours. I walked by, once, busy with housework and found my purple panties laying on the carpet like a welcome mat to his bedroom door. The cum on them was scarcely minutes old. I squatted down and lowered my nose right above my own panties, blessedly soiled with sperm I imagined could impregnate the female population of India. I very nearly stuck out my tongue but withheld at the last moment. A terrific effort of my guilt complex compelled me otherwise. I lifted the underwear and carried them into the kitchen. There, I stuffed them into the trash compactor and hit the compact button. Clifford simply moved on to an unadorned, gray, cotton pair. -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+