Message-ID: <34885asstr$1011697805@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: 22 Jan 2002 08:43:35 GMT X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 22 Jan 2002 00:43:35 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Natural Mom's Organic Son (4/6) [petting, mom, son, cuck] Date: Tue, 22 Jan 2002 06:10:05 -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: dennyw, gill-bates 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 4 An objective observer would have noted some success after Clifford's time-out. He never again rudely grabbed my body. Sure, he'd run up to me for a hug, but that was good behavior. I said my son was a fast learner. My boy entered the kitchen one day as I put our week's meager supplies into the cupboards. He waited patiently for me to finish, but when I noticed him and gave him an curious glance, he walked over and looked up at me. "Mommy, may I please suck on your tits?" Now I had never said the word tit or tits in front of my son, and I'm pretty sure Melvin hadn't either. We only used the polite vernacular. Of course, if the boy was listening to Melvin's and my lovemaking, his sexual vocabulary would have quadrupled overnight. "What ever do you mean?" I attempted to draw out the origin of his word. "Those." He pointed at my tits. "These are your mommy's breasts dear, and you know you're not supposed to suck on them. Your daddy told you, you're not a baby anymore." "But daddy's not here. Can I be your baby, just once more?" I don't think I realized until that moment how my endless efforts to become pregnant had taken their toll on me. I wanted a baby. I wanted it more than anything. How else had I acquired a perverted fascination with my son's snow white cum? "Oh, my dear son!" My heart melted and I lifted Clifford in my arms. Hugging him, I walked into the living room and carefully squatted down on the couch. I swiftly adjusted my son's position so that I was cradling his body and had his head in the crook of my arm. He looked up at me. I looked down at him. My face was filled with joy. He looked at my covered tit that hung just out of tongue reach. He looked back at me, hoping. "You have the most beautiful breasts in the whole world, mommy." "Son, please just let me hold you. You won't be my baby forever." "On my birthday, you let me feed from them. They tasted so good, I want to suck them again." He reached for the closer tit, but he didn't touch it. His hand made a slow circle over the nipple poking out of my dress. I was in trouble. My body began to respond. I was in love with my son, as a good mother should be, but I was also a highly sexual woman who hadn't been getting her minimal requirements for weeks. Clifford was seducing me with his respectful demeanor, and then he made that endearing motion with his hand. I swooned. I took his child's hand and pulled it into my tit. God help me - I had to let him touch it. He was so gentle. His palm worked silently with its small fingers to grab the nipple and push it into the softer flesh. He rolled the nipple in his fingers and then pressed it with his palm, softly mushing the whole tit flat against my chest. His hand returned to it's earlier, circular motion, but this time he was rubbing my breast round and round. I almost bit my lip from the powerful sensations that coursed through my body at his deliberate touch. My husband was the dearest, gentlest man on the earth, but he could have learned a whole new level of care and attention from his twelve year old son. Clifford acted as if my breast was the only thing in the universe that mattered. From my own perspective, other parts of my body began clamoring for similar attention. I wasn't in the right position to grind my pelvis, however much my cunt begged to be prodded. I had to derive as much pleasure from my son's tit play as I could. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on his actions but that meant deliberately dropping my guard. Clifford became bolder. He lifted his head and opened his mouth right next to his groping hand. With a pinch on my nipple he switched from hand to mouth, and began sucking on my tit, right through the thick cotton of my house dress. At first I didn't notice. I was in blissful separation. Then, once his spit soaked into the dress, I opened my eyes, and suddenly my fears were in full conflict with my desire. It was not too late. I hoisted myself to a straight, sitting position. That jarred my son off of the tit he was nibbling. If my breasts had been bared, his mouth would have stuck like a suction cup. He looked up at me with pleading eyes. I returned only an empty expression. Then I pulled my arms out of my dress and uncovered my heaving tits. His eyes grew round, and he immediately descended. His mouth devoured the original, bespittled nipple, and his hand grasp the dry one. His mother wriggled her free hand under the boy and pressed the folds of my skirt into her thighs. I was lost. On a sunny, spring day in a room darkened by thick curtains, a loving mother allowed her devoted son to pleasure her by sucking and rubbing her tits while she secretly masturbated. I was driven to a single, excruciating orgasm that left me weak and delirious. Suddenly, I imagined my husband kneeling on the floor, sucking me, but he was sucking my cunt. Just before I expired, I heard Clifford say. "Will you be my whore?" The spinning room engulfed me and I blacked out. It was dark when I awoke. I lay stretched on the couch, lengthwise. My exposed breasts were dry, but I could tell that Clifford had sucked on both of them by the lingering smell of his spit. Another fluid he left hadn't fully dried. A great puddle of his cum lay in the dip of my belly. This time I was not shy. I fingered the slimy mess and tasted of it. His flavor was golden and pronounced. It spoke of power and delight. I spent several mindless minutes spreading it's stickiness over my torso, rubbing it into my breasts and nipples as if it were luxurious skin cream. I almost came again, but my reverie eventually expanded beyond my own physical realm, and I spied Clifford lying on the plush carpet. His pants were still pulled down around his knees and his soft prick had fallen to one side. A musical hum surrounded him as he breathed in his sleep. Two spotlights swept across the living room curtains, and the roar of an engine was silenced. Melvin had returned. I picked up my child, secured him in his bed, and shut his door. Melvin found me in the shower. "Hey, shouldn't the man who won the big contract today have first dibs on this part of the house?" "Melvin? You want to shower? I'm almost done. Just a second." I shut off the water and stepped naked into my man's arms. We embraced and he kissed my ear. Then he whispered, "I bought a whole box of condoms for tonight's celebration." My throat involuntarily gulped. I'm not sure why I then said what I did, but I meant it. "Let me think about that. I'm not sure I'm feeling all that well." He gave me a slight look of disappointment. "Whew, my stressed out husband does need a shower! Here, get those pores all freshened up, while I make the man of this house a big supper." At that he smiled. This night happened to be my most fertile time of the month, and I threw the chance of conceiving with my husband all away, literally. Feigning slight physical discomfort, I wrapped a bright, new condom over my husband's eager penis, and I masturbated him until he spewed his watery cum into that receptacle. I then transported his dying seed to the toilet and flushed it into the municipal waste treatment system. In the morning, he tried again, surprising me by squeezing his condom covered dick into my sleeping crotch. I awoke immediately and chastised him. "Melvin, I know in the past, I liked being awakened by my husband's passionate embrace, but today I feel like you should have asked me first." "Oh." He tilted his head in confusion. I hugged him and kissed him, saying that I understood he meant well, but sometimes a woman does change her mind. To compensate, I fixed him a sumptuous breakfast and gave him the royal treatment with hugs and kisses before sending him back into the vicious world of making a living. Clifford appeared sometime in the middle of my wifely duties. He followed me around at a distance, always watching from a doorway, observing my body language, deciphering the tone of my voice, figuring out what I was really doing. I was getting Melvin out of the house as efficiently as possible. As soon as Melvin's car zoomed off into silence, Clifford approached me with a perfectly timed hug. I lifted him up and carried him back to the couch. He helped me pull down the top of my dress and was soon nursing away on my tits and kneaded them with his hands while I pressed fingers into my cunt. This time I reached up under my dress to fuck myself, and I had deliberately failed to wear my panties. Soon, mother and son were swooning in their passionate embraces and succumbing to cumming, at least I did, first. This time I did not faint, but I closed my eyes until their were slits and rested perfectly still. And in that heady aftermath, I watched my son climb off me and unzip his pants. He pulled them down and released his beautifully sized, blood filled cock into the living room air. Clifford surprised me then. I was expecting him to anoint my body with his sanctified liquid, but I expected him to use his own hand. He used mine. He gently lifted up my arm and wrapped my fingers around his cock. Then he moved my hand up and down his flesh, back and forth. Was this a repeat of when he masturbated over me the day before? My aroused son spewed his cum right away, but I almost blew my cover of pretend sleep when his jets of sperm shot out in a high arc and landed directly on my naked navel. I swear shivery aftershocks of orgasm swept through me with each spurt. It seemed to me that he spent more time cumming than he had trying to make himself cum. I was eager to touch and taste it. The dribbled, last drops of cum had run over my hand as he finished his own throes of ecstasy. Muted cries rumbled from his throat. I could hardly wait to stuff it in my mouth. But my son was a perfectionist. He wanted to leave only the pool of his love as his offering and thanks. Clifford licked his cock juice from my hand until it was perfectly clean. Then he replaced my arm back on the sofa. I wanted so much to grab him and hug him, but I was afraid of disturbing his work of art glistening on my belly in white. Still, my son was not finished with his seduction. He could not have possibly known that I had watched it all, but he sat down on the carpet and waited, his eyes sparkling with devotion. My heart flew out to him. I first mumbled. Next, I flickered open my eyes. I raised my head and looked at my belly. "Oh no, what is this?" I asked aloud, as if to myself in surprise. "Mommy, are you sure you don't know?" My son answered innocently enough. "Did you do this? Oh my goodness, Clifford you're not fully dressed." Like the last time, he had left his pants down around his knees, but this time his cock remained fully erect. I couldn't help but stare at it. Regardless, I had a role to play. "Haven't I warned you about invading your mom's privacy. This is terrible! I want you to put your clothes back on and march to your room. Stay there for the rest of the day. I'm going to tell the school that you have to miss your classes." He pulled on his pants and zipped them quickly before following my orders to the letter. I, on the other hand, remained on the couch until I heard his door close. With both hands I scooped up every drop of his beautiful cum and sucked it into my mouth. I wiped and scraped my belly until the last of it was trickling down my throat. Then I rested in the glow of yet another orgasm. I replayed the morning's follies in my head and fucked one sperm washed hand into my wet cunt and pinched my nipples hard with the other. There was work to do in the house, but not much. As the day ticked and tocked, I occasionally poked my head into Clifford's room and gave him brief lectures about appropriateness. "Masturbation is a healthy pastime. I hope you never feel guilty about it." "Okay, mommy." On my second visit, I told him, "Most people have pretty strong feelings about bodily fluids. You wouldn't ever spit on mommy would you?" "I'm sorry." "We all make mistakes." Later, I remember saying, "You know, semen is a pretty special creation of your body. I hope you respect that." "It makes babies." "Yes honey, it does." I beamed. "I'm sure yours will make wonderful babies." I finally finished my house work and felt that Clifford had been timed out long enough. I knocked on his door, like I always did. "Mommy, can you get me a drinking cup?" He asked through the closed door. "You want a cup of water?" "Can I have just the cup?" "Sure, but if you want, you can get the cup yourself. I know that my good boy won't repeat his naughtiness. You don't have to stay in your room anymore." "Okay." I heard him shuffling on the carpet. He opened the door and walked out. His body was fully naked, and his beautifully erect cock bounced as he moved past me to the kitchen. I didn't know what to do or say. So, I didn't do anything. I heard a cupboard open. A few seconds later his bare ass waddled past me in the opposite direction, cock in front standing like a ship's mast in rough seas. He held a white plastic, cartoon cup in his hand. He walked back to his room, but left the door open. Then he sat down on his bed and commenced to jack off. It wasn't my place to stand and stare, but I couldn't help myself. The very innocence of his demeanor tugged at my skirt like the four year old boy who used to suck on my breasts whenever he wanted. I promised myself, I'd never deny him again. Clifford appeared to enjoy pumping away on his prick meat like a chef enjoyed making a nice salad dressing. He knew I was looking on, but he didn't seem the least bit embarrassed. I was as red as a beet! After nearly a minute of steady jacking, he looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, swallowing my heart as it wrestled it's way up my throat. I wrung my hands spastically, behind my back to keep myself from plunging them up my skirt and into the naked cunt that called their names. Not quite one more minute later, he raised the cup to his prickhead that glistened with precum and he shot several loads of bright cum into the cup. He even used the rim to scrap the last drop off of his cock. Again he smiled at me. A moment of silence passed. My embarrassment only grew. But just as I cleared my throat with an appreciative tone and was about to leave, he stood up and walked directly towards me. "Mommy, if you want this, you can have it." He held up the cup. My eyes lost focus. Moisture there blotted the sweet figure of my son. My arm reached out unbidden. My hand accepted his gift. "Th-thank you." My throat whispered hoarsely. Then he walked back into his room and shut the door. I heard him fumbling with clothes. My husband would return soon. I was washing the cup in hot water and plenty of dish soap when Melvin hugged me from behind and kissed my neck. We made, fabulous, passionate love that night, but I double checked his condom before and after. My cunt was his willing whore, but I refused to even kiss him with my mouth. I couldn't bear the thought of disturbing the salty tang of my son's delicious cum with any flavor of Melvin's. I orgasmed several times lost in the fantasy that my husband was a precocious, twelve year old child of my womb. -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+