Chapter 11
Mae watched Penny leave the house, school books under her arm, and an awful sinking sensation churned in the pit of her stomach. Penny had said casually, "Peter says he's sick again, Mom."
Mae's heart had almost stopped. She had said, "I'll see to him ... after you leave." She had finished frying eggs for Penny and Peter. Mae stood at the sink staring at her hands as she washed the breakfast dishes.
She was delaying going to Peter. She dreaded what was going to happen. She knew-he would want her to do that to him again ... That. Mae named "That." I'll be jacking off my son! A hot shame warmed her face.
But maybe he really was sick! Here she was ignoring him! Peter might be writhing in pain! Mae whimpered and stood pressing her belly against the sink. She wavered with indecision. She raised her head and took a deep, determined breath. She took off her apron. She wore her pale green sleeping gown and pink robe. She left the kitchen and went into the hallway. As she approached Peter's door, she slowed. She put a shaking hand on the door knob. She called, "Peter, if you're uncovered, please cover yourself."
"Come in, Mom!"
Something in her quailed. She fought her hand as it turned. Mae entered Peter's room. Her throat was tight. Her stomach was clammy with apprehension.
Peter was sitting up, his pillow against the headboard. He was uncovered again. He was naked. His cock was monstrously hard again.
Mae pleaded, "Peter, please-" Her gaze was drawn to his erection.
"I'm sick again, the same way as before."
"I won't-"
"When you helped me last time, I didn't ache again for two days. You really ... when you do it for me, the relief is very effective." Peter was smiling. His young voice held a shade of mockery, as if he were saying the words but obviously didn't believe them. The words were window dressing, designed to put a veneer of respectability on what had happened ... and what was about to happen.
Mae realized this. She saw it in his hard young eyes. She was helpless. She had to pretend she accepted the lie. She could not admit she had jacked off her fifteen-year-old son just for his pleasure ... and that he had virtually forced her to do it. Mae could not admit that his huge cock held a dreadful fascination and attraction for her. She could only wait in the doorway, white-faced, for his command.
"I want you to relieve the ache again, Mom."
"Peter, do it yourself. I don't care how often you do it."
"But it feels a lot better when you do it, Mom. So come over here and sit on the bed and start doing it again!"
She told herself-just once more. There will be no next time. I won't come to him if he's "sick" again. Mae walked stiffly to the side of his bed. She sat precariously on the edge. She could not touch him. She whispered desperately, "Peter, it isn't right."
He didn't bother to answer her. He said forcefully, gritty-voiced, "Put your right hand on my cock, Mom."
As if drawn by a magnet, her hand moved and came to rest on the hot, throbbing, eight-and-a-quarter-inch length. She hadn't noticed his use of the word "cock." Her mind was jumbled. Mae was resisting with passivity. She simply had laid her open hand on his cock. She would do no more-unless given a direct order. Nevertheless she felt the exciting hardness and thickness and heat of it. She breathed faster. Her thighs pressed together under her gown and robe. She noticed that Peter was very aroused. His hypnotizing eyes were alive with lust and power.
"Close your fingers around it. Now move the skin up and down!"
She obeyed. She turned her face away from the sight. She would never admit she liked the feel of his cock in her hand, or liked the feel of jacking him off. She held tight to his hot thickness and pumped as he had directed.
Peter loved it-the sensations, the gloating knowledge of power and dominance. His belly was tight with pleasure and with a gut-sickening apprehension at what he was going to command his mother to do-very soon now. His gaze was caught by the full wobble of her big, ripe breasts. Her robe was partly open and her gown was low cut enough to show the deep white deepening valley between the loose globes of flesh. Peter said, "Mom, stop what you're doing. Take your robe off."
Mae's head jerked around. Her eyes widened. Her hand and arm drew away from his cock. She drew the top of her robe closed at her throat.
"Take your robe off!"
"Why?"
"Don't ask questions! Take your robe off!"
"Peter-I'm your mother!"
"Do as I tell you!" He sat tense and scared, but not showing it. He glared at Mae. He kept his harsh gaze fixed on her eyes.
When her gaze tried to meet his, her eyes skittered away. She could not resist his will. She could only delay and hope. Mae's hands loosed and fell to her lap. Her fingers plucked at the pink silk sash. She was almost gasping. There were spots of red high on her cheekbones. She loosened the sash and pulled her pink robe open. She sent a despairing, desperate look, but was denied. She dropped her eyes. She flushed and drew the robe off her shoulders. She let the robe droop down and hang from her arms. She shivered and waited.
"Take it all the way off!"
Mae squeezed her eyes shut. She drew her arms from the sleeves of her robe. She crossed her arms over her breasts and felt cold and exposed. The robe puddled beside her hips and hung to the floor on her left side.
"Put your arms down!"
Tears began to accumulate in the corners of her closed eyes. She sniffled. She let her arms sag and tightly clasped her hands in her lap. Mae could not bear to look ... at Peter, at herself, at the room. She wished it was dark. Pitch black! She began to make believe it was midnight, with no moon ... and this was a terrible dream. She was sitting on the edge of her own bed....
Peter looked at his mother. Her grape-like nipples were poking against the thin green material of her sleeping gown. There was a small ruffle along the scoop neckline. The fabric was sheer. He could see hints of flesh tones through it ... the folds clung to her lush, heavy breasts, to her belly, to her thighs. His mind filled with the memory of her breasts when Lars had commanded her to expose herself in the glade, that day beside the creek. Peter's cock was jumping with his arousal. A few strokes of her hand would be enough to bring him off. But he wanted more than her hand. His heart was thudding in his thin chest. Peter swallowed. "Stand up!"
Mae came out of her wish-fantasy. Her eyes flew open. "Why?" For an instant their eyes locked. For an instant she held against Peter's grim, lust-ridden, dynamic glare. Mae recognized the lust. She. had seen it so often in Lars. She knew. She knew why. "STAND UP!"
His voice drilled into her mind. She found herself standing, shaking, beside the bed. She stared down at his massive cock and a terrible shudder passed through her.
Peter bothered to make it a bit easier for her. "I want to see you naked, Mother. I need a little sex education. I need to see a woman ... a full-grown woman ... naked. There's nothing so terrible in a teenaged young man seeing a naked woman. The magazines are full of naked women."
"But I'm your mother!" Her voice was a gasping wail. Her terror sprang from a deep, gut knowledge that there was nothing Peter-her son-could not make her do. There was no limit ... not in herself. She was a quivering jelly, a willless creature who was unable to resist. Mae clung to a feeble hope that there existed in Peter a shred of decency ... a point beyond which his lust would not push him. Dear God, there had to be a limit! Her son could not be so depraved.
"I WANT TO SEE YOU NAKED!" He crossed his arms on his chest. His fists clenched. "STRIP!"
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Dear God-She couldn't resist. Yes, Peter, Mother will strip and let you see her...."I suppose a boy should see his mother naked. I suppose it would be all right. I suppose the harm would be too much modesty in this day and age. "I suppose...." She was babbling and knew it. Her hands were drawing her gown up past her knees ... She had panties on at least-for a moment.
Mae welcomed the brief covering of her head as she bent over and drew the gown up and off. But then she saw the flush of victory and the flare of power redoubled in her son's bright brown eyes. There was no escape. She stood trembling with shame. Her hands made jerking motions at her sides, wanting to cover her full, Slightly sagging breasts. Mae was more ashamed of her erect, purplish nipples than anything. They stuck out so far! They betrayed her!
"I want to see everything!"
She sobbed. She couldn't help it. No pretense of "sex education" could stand in the heat of her son's hot eyes as he gazed at her naked breasts and tried to penetrate the thin nylon of her pink panties. Her hands shook as she at first edged the waistband down her hips. Then she wanted to get it over with! Mae pushed her panties down with one convulsive bending movement. Her panties were bunched loosely at her ankles. She straightened ... and her hands covered her thickly muffed pussy. She huddled, face flaming, yet unable to turn away.
"Take your hands away!"
Her trembling hands parted. She could not look at Peter as he examined her nakedness. Endless moments passed.
"Okay, sit on the bed again and start jacking me off again!"
Mae inwardly sighed with relief. She sat on the edge and quickly took his huge, throbbing cock in her right hand. She couldn't quite watch what she was doing. She pumped him and looked away, to the left. She was relieved that it would soon be over.
Peter's cock was very hard and very warm. Her gripping fingers stroked up and down the length, carrying the layer of skin up over the big head. She pumped hard and fast. Her naked breasts wobbled freely, the bed squeaked. She began to pant lightly with effort. She felt his cock become vibrant. She heard his breath come in quick puffs of increasing excitement. Another few seconds ... He was almost ready to ejaculate....
"STOP!"
Mae jumped with surprise. Her hand stopped, but still gripped his cock. Her heart began slamming. She gasped with dread. She dared not look at him, nor ask why he had commanded she stop.
"Get up on the bed-kneel between my legs, facing me!"
Oh my God! Mae sat as if frozen.
Peter watched his mother narrowly. He had stopped her just in time. Another few seconds of her stroking and he'd have shot off like a geyser. His objective wasn't to come, not primarily. He had to conquer her. He had to break her down. He waited, knowing this was the critical test of his will. She knew what the kneeling position meant. He watched her face drain of color. But her hand stayed glued around his jumping cock. Her big, heavy, large-nippled breasts heaved as she struggled with her emotions.
Peter smiled. "Get up on the bed on your knees, Mother!" He reached out to grab one of her breasts.
She drew back ... and slowly crept up onto the bed. It was worse for him to touch her breast. She made a deal-unspoken.
"Kneel between my legs, Mother!" He loved to keep reminding her of their relationship. Mother-son.
As Mae moved nakedly into that position on the bed her breasts hung like white gourds with short, rounded purplish stems. Mae knelt between Peter's outstretched legs, facing the center of his body-his enormous, erect cock. Her right hand had left his cock temporarily, but now she clamped her hand around it again and began stroking him again, quickly, frantically.
"No! I don't want that!" He grabbed her hand and stopped her movement. He was leaning forward, back curved, tension in every muscle of his body, in his face, in his eyes.
Mae gazed submissively down at his magnificent cock. She began to weep.
"Mother ... look at me. Look into my eyes!"
Slowly, her gaze dragged up to his face. His eyes blazed. She flinched. She could not look away. He had her! Her soul shriveled as his powerful stare drove her defenses back, back, from a point midway between them, back into her skull! Mae knelt, mouth open, sobbing, eyes transfixed, a prisoner.
"MOTHER-SUCK ME OFF!"
The command reverberated in her skull ... horrible, horrible ... A despairing cry was torn from her constricted throat. Mae drew a quavering breath. "No! Oh, God, no! Oh, Peter, don't-don't make me...." She groveled. She abased herself-face pressed against his upper left thigh, left hand clawed on his tensed belly ... but her right hand continued to grasp his cock-as if it was an anchor.
Peter waited, grinning. "SUCK ME OFF!"
All the pretense was gone, a shambles of broken pride and self-respect. She had to suck off her son! Mae's guts roiled with nausea ... but she did not vomit. Her mind reeled with dizziness as she lifted her tear-stained face for one last appeal.
Peter met her shocked, beseeching gaze and turned it back. He whispered softly, almost casually, "Suck my cock, Mother. Do it good."
A shudder went through Mae. Her breasts quivered against the insides of his knees. Her right hand tightened around his cock. She sobbed hysterically for a long minute.
"I'm losing my patience, Mother!"
Mae lifted her head from his thigh. Her eyes were tightly closed. Her right hand brought the head of his cock to her parted lips. Her face was mottled pink. She was gasping, sobbing, crying, yet her lips opened ... and with a low, ululating moan ... she pressed her lips onto his glans, over it, down past it....
Peter sucked a deep, triumphant breath. His eyes burned wildly. His hands fisted. He choked, "Use your tongue! Suck! Suck!"
Mae whimpered in total submission. She sank his cock far into her throat. She gagged and eeled her tongue along the length of the hard, throbbing column of thick shaft in her mouth.
Peter tensed even more! His belly ridged. His cock was half in her mouth-in his mother's hot, sucking mouth! His guts were coiling, tightening, turning molten. He was going to come! "SUCK!"
Mae knew! She felt the super-hardness in his cock, heard the edge of trembling pleasure in his command. She swept her gripping hand up his cock to where her lips clung. She flushed a deep red. Blood congested her face and neck and chest. She wanted to die! But she sucked! In an orgy of shame and humiliation-Mae sucked off her son!
She knelt between his legs and pumped his immensely hard, pulsing cock, and slithered her tongue and plunged her head to take throat-spasming lengths of his shaft. Her tears ran down her nose and dripped to his curly pubic hair. Her saliva drooled from her straining mouth. She sobbed heartbrokenly around the hot bulk sliding in her mouth ... but she sucked!
Peter groaned ... a special gut-deep, body-wracking groan. He watched, bulging-eyed, suddenly shaking with the powerful surge of pleasure that was erupting in his loins-NOW! "JESUS!" NOW! NOW! "OH, CHRIST!"
Mae at the last instant drew her mouth away.
But she kept on pumping his huge, rigid cock. She did not avoid the powerful spurts of semen that splattered on her face. Mae welcomed the awful, slimy gobs of hot stuff that branded her face and ran in thick rivulets to her mouth and chin, and down her neck. She pumped Peter's giant cock until the semen stopped flowing. Her hand was coated, dripping. She trembled in hopeless degradation. She panted, face down, over his loins.
Peter almost could not believe what he had done. He was appalled, sickened, repelled, and ashamed ... for a moment. For a moment only. His contempt for her returned, stronger than ever. And with it-hate. He said disgustedly, "Go wipe yourself off! And bring back a warm washcloth to clean me with!"
Mae crawled off the bed and obeyed.